morganas-pendragons

[morganas-pendragons]

Eve Best and Charles Edwards spar as Beatrice and Benedick in the Royal Shakespeare Companies production of Much Ado About Nothing in 2011.

[morganas-pendragons]

"For a moment, standing there, you were the very image of your father...Do you know, I remember once, he said to me, one day my future would be in his son's hands. He said it quite casually, as if one might speak of tomorrow's rain" - Celebrimbor S1.E4 ∙ The Great Wave / S2.E8 ∙ Shadow and Flame

[morganas-pendragons]

ME @ THIS FIC

what is in a name | celebrimbor

warnings: afab!reader, no spoilers

GIF by @winterswake

author's note: quoting shakespeare in a celebrimbor fic, I am the devil :) special thanks to @morganas-pendragons for being a babe and helping me pick names

all parts of "the craft" series can be read here

-.-.-

 ‘Man cárat, Hîr vuin?’

 The book in your lap lies abandoned when Celebrimbor steps out from the shadow of your room, flustered to have been caught staring. Your keen ear forestalls any knock on your door, and it seems that the Lord of Eregion himself cares little for impropriety, if it will bring him to you faster.

 ‘I was watching you.’

 You smile for him, always.

 ‘What for?’

 ‘To commit you to my memory.’

 ‘Our memory does not fail. You will not forget me.’

 ‘Perhaps, but I wish to be able to recall every detail. Every strand of your hair. Every bead on your dress.’

 ‘You must study me from closer then.’

 He closes the distance as if drawn to you. His hand upon your cheek, where it has belonged ever since the fateful day of his confession. It almost burns to be away from you.

 ‘You might only see my eyes from this distance, my precious heart.’

 ‘I shall cherish every eyelash then.’

 ‘My lovely Celebrimbor! You speak of my tongue, but what about yours?’

 ‘You have taught me.’

 ‘You have taught yourself.’ you whisper. ‘Or, perhaps, love has taught us both.’

 ‘Love,’ he speaks the word, as if tasting it on his tongue for the very first time.

 ‘Does it come as a surprise that I love you?’

 His eyes slide shut of their own accord. He wishes to remain in this moment forever, to have the words echo in his mind until the End of Days.

 ‘It does, my Lady, for I do not know how to be deserving of it.’

 You frown, ‘I would say that you are and always have been, if you did not insist on calling me by title, even now.’

 The moonlight hides the emerald of his eyes, yet his dark irises are maps entire for you to get lost in.

 ‘What should I call you then?’ His kiss falls first between your eyebrows, melting the line of displeasure away. ‘Meleth nîn?’ then on your nose, ‘Guren vell, as I called you on the first eve that we kissed?’ and your cheek, ‘Or, a new name entirely.’ ending with a soft touch of his lips to yours.

‘Melthoreth,’ he whispers, ‘for the honey of your mouth.’

 ‘Melthoreth,’ you cannot help but trace your lips back over his, branding the name upon his mouth. ‘Is my mouth sweet, my love?’

 He lets you take charge, his valiant efforts are rewarded with the generosity of your lips and tongue. There is a sigh; muscles relaxing as if his very soul is being breathed into your being. He would accept that, too, and trust that you keep it safe.

 You part to allow him to breathe, but he would much rather prefer you didn’t.

 ‘As all parts of you, but I venture to say it is my favourite one.’

 You kiss him again, this time slow enough that he might hear his heart beating in his ear. If it is his favourite part, then he should have it.

 ‘A bit uncouth that you might give me a new name, while you get to keep yours.’

 The way you are looking at him might well and truly shatter him.

 ‘I will take whatever name you wish to give me.’

 Your forehead comes to gently rest on his, your lips replaced by the tip of your thumb on his own. He gazes at you like you are the Moon, and flushes at your touch like you are the Sun. You are both, to him. Every heavenly creation.

 ‘Celebrimbor,’ you roll his father-name on your tongue as if to caress it, ‘the silver fist.’

 Your free hand comes to tangle with his own, bringing it to your mouth so you might show your reverence. What has an Elven-smith ever made that was important enough to have his hands kissed by holiness itself?

 ‘The silver fist and the hands of gold,’ you hum, ‘Malthenhir.’

 His eyes shine with emotion.

‘That is the only name I wish to be called when we are alone.’ A single tear escapes him, but you quickly kiss it off his cheek, ‘A name born of your love.’

 ‘I shall call you by many names when we are alone,’ you promise, ‘and they will all be born from my love for you.’

-.-.-

‘Man cárat, Hîr vuin?’’ = What are you doing, My Lord?

meleth nîn = my love

guren vell = my sweet heart

Melthoreth = (poetically translated) she who speaks sweetly

Malthenhir = (poetically translated) master of golden hands

[morganas-pendragons]

😂😂😂😂😂

[morganas-pendragons]

grief | elrond peredhel

a short little thing about helping Elrond through his grief over Elros. Think I may release one more drabble tonight as I am really trying to clear my drafts out. This is an actual drabble this time!!! It's less then 1K LOL

"I not only live each day in endless grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief." - CS Lewis, A Grief Observed

For someone who has believed until this point that you knew Elrond Peredhel well, this may be the only time you can confidently note that you cannot find him in any of his usual hiding places.

That is what causes you to go seeking Galadriel and The High King. To you, it is a normal day. A normal day in Lindon among comrades and friends in which you spend weeks preparing for the next event featuring the court of musicians that Gil-Galad employs for such an occasion. Your free time is spent with Elrond, lingering amid the trees within each other's embrace and whispering poetry among the rays of sunshine and flowers that scatter along Lindon's fields.

You do not find him there today. Not there, not at the waterfall, not in the garden. He is nowhere to be found. The thought of something having happened to him concerns you, and that is what leads you to GIl-Galad's courts where you find him and Galadriel conversing with one another. Their conversation is hardly perceptible enough for you to hear. It does not matter. You stride towards them with haste, intent on finding Elrond before the sun reaches its peak of the afternoon.

Gil-Galad seems to have been waiting for your arrival. He does not look surprised that his violinist has come to meet with him.

"High King," You begin, bowing lowly to him and Galadriel. “Forgive me for the intrusion.”

“It is not an intrusion, dear friend,” Galadriel’s calm voice responds. She is always, to you at least, the perfect picture of composure. You envy that ability. “What ails you?”

“I cannot find Elrond.”

You know something is wrong by the way that Gil-Galad and Galadriel look at each other. Your gut has been telling you all morning that Elrond’s sudden disappearance has a purpose, and it seems you are right.

“This is one day of the year that Elrond does not wish to be found,” Galadriel murmurs, sadness tinging her tone as her eyes fall to the floor. Her fingers skate across where she used to keep Finrod’s dagger at her hip. “We are never able to locate him.”

“Why? What is important about today?” You ask. Dread bubbles in your stomach as you fidget with your fingers. The King will not meet your eyes.

Elrond has been forthcoming about most of his upbringing to you thus far. Being the son of Eärendil The Mariner and Elwing, the Silmarils, Maglor and Maedrhos... All of it.

The one thing he has told you little about is Elros.

For the first time in the time you'd known her, sympathy flickers across Galadriel's face as she crosses the gap between you to take your hands into her own. You are dearest to Elrond. Due to that, she feels a deep obligation to look after you when he can't.

"This is the anniversary of Elrond's twin's death," Gil-Galad interjects before Galadriel can reply. Your fearful aspects crumples into something akin to sadness and a familiarity of grief that makes your heart ache. "I often do not call upon Elrond on this day. I never have found where he hides, but he sits in his solitude to ruminate over the loss of his brother on this day every year."

You square your jaw and squeeze Galadriel's hands before stepping away.

"If you will grant me leave, High King," You remark. "I wish to find my beloved before nightfall."

Of all the people Gil-Galad would expect to successfully find Elrond, you may be the only one on that list who could offer him comfort and bring him home before he caught ill in the chill that lingered in the air. Gil-Galad knows the depths of which Elrond loves you. It is a depth that far surpasses the weight of his upbringing, which he has endured.

He nods.

You are bounding up Lindon's staircases and out into its golden forests before you can hear their farewell, keen Elvish eyes peeled for the familiar form of your lover as you seek him out in all of your secret hiding places.

The lake, the waterfall, the garden, the library. All are empty.

"Where is it that you go to grieve, love?"

"Where the song is heard the quietest, where all the world comes to a halt, and where the heart falls somber."

You find him at the edge of Lindon where a single statue stands amid a small graveyard. You've seen it while coming and going from the city, mostly to Eregion to meet with other musicians and artists. No one would pay attention to it if they were not looking.

You have never truly taken the time to recognize it for what it is.

Elros Tar-Minyatur.

You don't say anything as you approach. Elrond is knelt at the feet of the statue, hands wound in the fabric of his cloak as he weeps. Not a sound escape his lips. This must be what grief feels like. Silent suffering over a face, a name, a heart that the rest of the world will never come to know again because you are what remains of their memory.

You hum softly to acknowledge your presence and rest your hand on his shoulder. He leans into it, seeking out the touch of your comfort, while his hands move upward to hide his face and the tears that stain his cheeks.

You do not shush him. You simply kneel in the dirt and take Elrond into your arms, kissing a head of damp curls as he slides into the part of your legs and clutches at you so hard that you're sure his fingerprints will leave bruises. His grief will slip into your bloodstream, and you too will feel the aching hole that comes with the loss of one so dear to him.

You do little but hold Elrond there. Press a kiss to his temple, to his hair, to his forehead.

There, wrapped in the warmth of the embrace of one who loves him still and will continue to do so, Elrond allows you to see the heart of him that bleeds over a twin who chose mortality, who chose men.

You wonder if Elros would choose him, were he allowed to live again.

You stare up at the statue as if Elros will speak to you.

I will live to love him for you. I promise.

[morganas-pendragons]

I am not kidding you. I absorbed every single word of this fic. It just reads so much like Tolkien’s diction and to be quite fair, I could hear Celebrimbor’s voice in this. It’s just so good 🥰🥹

an almost kiss | celebrimbor

warning(s): afab!reader (use of the word lady), discreet TROP spoilers

GIF by @suguretos

author's note: this is based on @morganas-pendragons' request for a first kiss, which I turned into an almost kiss because I already technically wrote that and her delicious thoughts on touch-starved brimby... I mean, just look at him

this is a prequel to "the craft"

-.-.-

The air is thick from the heat of the forge when you peek inside, expecting to find every smith hard at work, but as the fog clears, only Lord Celebrimbor himself can be seen, completely engrossed in his craft.

 It is a sight.

 You have been inside before, of course, but what could you learn of true creation from a simple visit? Seeing the master Elven-smith at work is a revelation.

 It serves your curiosity to not be discovered, yet guilt eats at you at the thought of taking advantage of his good nature and hospitality to serve your own whims. He looks different here, too, where he is shed of noble duties. The careless roll of his sleeves and his apron serve to remind you that in this little corner of the world, he is nothing but a talented craftsman. A true creator.

 ‘My Lord.’

 The clatter ceases once you make your presence known. A sharp tool you could not possibly think to name rests in his hand, but he quickly lays it aside when he looks at you. The lines of dedication on his face melt away as he smiles.

 ‘My Lady.’

 ‘I am sorry to have startled you.’

 ‘You haven’t.’

 He dares not move, dazed to have you here when he has been absorbed by the very notion of you for hours – days even. It almost makes it seem possible to will his desires into existence. How long need he think about your touch before that too is bestowed upon him? He will offer the time, however long it may be.

 He wonders briefly how he might look to you now. The last member of the House of Fëanor, renowned smith and Lord of Eregion by his own right, caught by surprise and rendered speechless by an offer as simple as your company. You, on the other hand, seem to always be at ease, always drawing nearer.

 ‘I am sorry to disturb your work as well.’

 ‘You aren’t.’

 ‘To disturb you then.’

 ‘Impossible. I was the one to invite you here in the first place, was I not?’

 ‘Oh, but that was an arranged visit. I come now of my own volition, that is an imposition in itself.’

 ‘I only regret that you’ve caught me unprepared and ill-mannered.’

 ‘I don’t believe you could ever be caught ill-mannered, my Lord.’

 ‘Perhaps it is the delight of your presence that ensures it then.’

 His laughter eases the years away from his face and you wish to tell him that. You wish for him to know your thoughts as plainly as they come to you.

 ‘You’ve such a kind and earnest smile, Lord Celebrimbor, as is all else about you. Almost like a warm glow washing over us, akin that of Laurelin itself.’

 He laughs again – bless the Valar! Bless the honey of your mouth and the sharpness of your mind and whatever he has done to earn the gift of your appreciation, of your mere thought to compare him of all elves to the gold tree of Valinor, but oh, curse it too. Curse that he cannot ever find within himself the words to reciprocate, in spite of all the nights he lies awake to thoughts of you.

 How can someone so skilled with a hammer not possess a trace of the skill of the tongue? You must teach him. You must make him worthy of you.

 He watches in silence as you look around. A tentative hand comes to trace the intricate carvings on the furnace.

 ‘Everything in your city seems so carefully crafted.’

 ‘Well, I suppose I have an eye for detail, given my work.’

 ‘Undoubtedly so, but I think it’s much more than just that. It is a labour of great love and dedication to mind such details.’

 ‘A true craftsman recognizes nothing is ever negligible, despite how it may seem. Even from sand, comes glass.’

 ‘What a wise thing to say,’ you turn to him, ‘you truly are most interesting, Lord Celebrimbor.’

 ‘I can only hope to keep up with you, my Lady. You most certainly surpass me in both words and wisdom. Your company is a blessing.’

 ‘As is yours.’

 Your hand is a comfort unlike any other when it reaches for him. He has not been touched in eons, but even if he had, it would not compare. His own hands are filthy with remnants of his work and it brings him shame to dirty such pristine skin. The Valar must have loved you as well, for they, superior creators as they are, ensured your beauty would reach even to your fingertips.

‘Would you show me what you were working on?’

‘Nothing exciting, I fear. I was only cutting out some pieces of emerald from their cluster.’

 ‘How can that not be exciting? Cutting a brilliant, precious gem from what was but a mere piece of rock not long ago.’

 You see as he does. The beauty of things. Their importance. The dark green rock sits large and proud on his workbench, cleaned of any remnants of the earth that birthed it, yet still a long way from its final form. He senses your enthusiasm in the hesitance with which you approach.

 ‘It is mere jewel-craft. Petty work. I aspire to larger projects now that I’ve been provided with a forge suited for them. I have you to thank for that.’

 ‘Hardly. It was the High King’s wise foresight to recognize that your gifts would be of much use in the fight against evil, and the work of Herald Elrond’s persuasion to make it possible.’

 ‘Ah, Herald Elrond does indeed possess quite the persuasive tongue. It is to be envied.’ And envy it he does, especially so when Elrond visits and spends your shared dinners conversing you whilst he himself can only gaze lovelorn. ‘But, please, do not undermine your contribution. You have been the most insightful of councils. I… I, for one, am glad to have you here.’

 For the first time in the weeks that you have known each other, he finds the nerve to approach you first. Not as your host, but as your… friend. It helps to see you distracted by the ore in front of you, too entranced to notice he is studying you in return.

 ‘Do not worry, it is not fragile. You may touch it if you’d like.’

 Your daring hand springs forth.

 ‘It is beautiful.’

 ‘It will be more valuable once it’s cut.’

 ‘More valuable, perhaps,’ you hum, ‘but not more beautiful. I believe the colour is the same as your eyes.’

 Your honeyed mouth renders the elven-smith incapable of sensible thought. You could ask him to cut off his hand and he would happily oblige you, let you pick the knife even. Anything to draw the praise you so generously give, even though he tends to think his eyes are small and beady and their only possible use is looking at you.

 That is why;

 ‘You should have it then.’

 A breath is released. This is not quite the facile manner of speech he had hoped to master. Foolish, traitorous mind going hand in hand with a foolish, traitorous mouth. You, in all your benevolence, simply blink in surprise. Teach him! Teach him how to speak his love.

 ‘I couldn’t possibly.’

 ‘I’m sure you appreciate it far more than any other would. If you want it, I wish for you to have it.’

 ‘You are so generous, my Lord, but whatever would I do with such an ore? Its beauty is undeniable, but I am no craftsman.’

 It is quite a large rock. Childish embarrassment rushes through him, the kind he has not felt since he was but an elfling apprenticed to his father and found comfort in his arms when he was brought to tears by his uncle’s temper.

 Perhaps being in love is a childlike, vulnerable sentiment in itself.

 ‘A piece then.’

 He[ΣΜ8]  does not await your answer. The tool is large and sharp in his talented hands. The piece he cuts is roughly the size of your palm as he presses it inside with reverence.

 ‘There you go.’

 You inspect it with a caress of your lovely finger.

 ‘I can polish it if you’ve changed your mind.’

 ‘No. No, it is perfect just like this.’

 The sunlight is bright and warm as it pours from his window and you take the opportunity to hold the piece up against its rays, revealing hues of forest green. The light reflects off it for a moment, drawing your attention back to Celebrimbor. He, too, looks glorious under the sun’s cast. You wish to study him further. To know all the markings of his face. He wishes it too, so he does not draw back when your feet bring you closer, and allows you to hold up the stone again, this time near his eyes.

 ‘I was right then; they are the same colour.’

 Perhaps being in love is a glorious sentiment instead. The gentle and warm embrace of affectionate words. No one has spoken of his eyes before. No one has come this close either. None but the wind that he can recall. All his memories and senses have been replaced by you, as if he was brought to existence by your meeting.

 All these things, he might never find the words to tell you.

 You do not mind.

 You care only for his kind soul, his emerald eyes and the soft beating of his heart under your palm. Your heads bow together as if in silent communication, foreheads and noses touching so that you might come to breathe the same air. An almost kiss.

 Does he remind you of the gold tree now that your touch has eased the years off his face, and your proximity has once again brought forth the gleeful radiance of his smile? Always, yes.

 An almost kiss, and a joy short-lived when his assistant decides to interrupt you.

 ‘My Lord.’

 You do not fly apart, but separate slowly, painfully instead.

 ‘Thank you, Lord Celebrimbor, for your gift, and for your company.’

 Mirdania lowers her head as you take your leave, perhaps in respect, or, perhaps, in embarrassment. For you, there is none. Not for Celebrimbor either, when he is left gazing at the shadow of you that remains. Her words fall on deaf ears.

[morganas-pendragons]

Questions 1-5 of the ROP ask game 🙂‍↕️

1. Answered

2. Answered

3. Hm…. That’s a hard one. Honestly, part of me wants to say Elrond (I’ve also got a new fascination with Camnir because of one specific author on ao3 who expanded on him quite a lot and I feel like he’d be a fun one too 😭)

4. It’s Eregion. Imladris may be 1st once we start to see it in the show, but for now (despite it being ruins) it’s still gonna be Eregion 😂

5. ANYTHING Sophia Nomvete does. I LOOOOVEEEEEEE the stone singers. Also, y’all are sleeping on Last Temptation from the finale.

[morganas-pendragons]

2, 21 and 29! For the RoP ask game 🤍

2. Favorite character - It’s Celebrimbor. Some of my closest mutuals already know this but for those of you who don’t, here’s the sweet and easy answer: I see a lot of myself in him as someone who’s grown up with music and writing. I’ve been a creator my whole life. I don’t have a mean bone in me. All I’ve ever wanted to do with my writing is have it impact people (it has) and my singing to do the same thing (it did). Celebrimbor endured so much hardship by being descended from Fëanor but also through being manipulated by Sauron.. and let me tell you, whoever sat in the writers room for season 2 understood being abused by a narcissist a little TOO well.

21. Answered!

29. 💔 🪦 💎

[morganas-pendragons]

8, 13 & 21 for the ask game :3

8. Something celebrimbor can make. Probably a hair pin. I want to wear that man’s creations!!!!!

13. Guys. Guys it has to be Isildur. Maxim can already sing. Let him sing about grief so he gets over his mother man!!!!!!! Let him help Theo grieve Bronwyn!!!!

21. Based on the various dinner scenes we have seen so far, to whose table would you most like to be invited as a guest? - honestly? Either Gil-Galad or Miriel.

[morganas-pendragons]

RoP Ask Game! ♡: 6, 19, 26

6. EREGION HANDS DOWN (it’s the musician and writer in me, I’d fit so well there)

19. Answered!

26. What’s up with Sauron’s unhealthy obsession with Galadriel??? Like… what’s the real reason behind it????

[morganas-pendragons]

Questions 1, 19 and 30 for the RoP Ask Game. :-)

1. What drew you to the show? - my mom and dad were watching it right before the big reveal in s1, and as a kid who grew up watching the extended editions ALL the time, I was like…. “Okay I’ll give this a try”

19. Which characters who haven't shared screen time yet would you most like to meet one another? - Honestly, GALADRIEL AND GANDALF

30. 3 characters, 3 positive things:

Ahem.

Gandalf - Kind, wise, compassionate

Celebrimbor - gentle, earnest, would take the weight of the world if he could because it means others would be spared (self sacrificing)

círdan - honest to god he deserves so many compliments for not only just being the oldest elf but putting up with everyone’s crap for so long 😂

[morganas-pendragons]

RoP Ask Game!

We thought it might be a fun to do an ask game. If you want people to send you an ask, simply reblog this post. :-)

THE QUESTIONS

How did you find out about Rings of Power? What was the one thing that drew you to the show?

Who is your favourite character and why? 

If you could spend one day with a character, who would it be? What would you do together?

What’s your favourite location in RoP? 

What’s your favourite song or piece of music from RoP? 

Where would you most like to live in RoP and why?

What minor character would you like to see more of? 

What accessory would you like most to own? (sword, brooch, crown, etc.)

Whose costume would you like most to try on?

Choose three characters. What jobs would they have if they lived in our time?

Which social media site would your favourite character use the most?

What colour do you associate with your favourite character?

There is a lot of music in Tolkien. What character would you wish to sing in RoP? What would they sing about? To whom?

Do you have a song you associate with a favourite character?

Who would you write a poem for in RoP and why?

Name three characters that have dog energy and three that have cat energy.

What do you think “Halbrand” said to the warg puppy?

Which character would you most like to go to a pub with?

Which characters who haven't shared screen time yet would you most like to meet one another?

Name three of your favourite scenes (or lines, or scenes and lines).

Based on the various dinner scenes we have seen so far, to whose table would you most like to be invited as a guest?

Were you familiar with Tolkien's writings before you watched RoP? What’s your favourite, or what might you like to read after seeing the show?

If you could give a present to a favourite character, what would it be?

What is your favourite story line in RoP?

What people or community in Tolkien’s world is your favourite and why?

If you could ask the creative team behind RoP one question, what would it be?

Which person involved in the show would you most like to meet in person? What would you say to them?

Do you have any headcanons about a character, or the world? What are they? 

Describe your favourite character using three emojis

Choose three characters (not necessarily your favourite ones). Say three positive things about each of them.

[morganas-pendragons]

Don’t you dare apologize to me!!! 💙 I’m just eager to read it when you’re ready to release it!

HIIIIIIIII

I just wanted to ask if you still intend to write that Gil-Galad piece!!! I’m so excited for when you post it!!

Thank you so much for reaching out and asking!

I’ve had a lot of things in my quality of life that has impacted my creativity and thus I have been stuck in the middle of chapter one still.

Currently I’m struggling without my ADHD/ Depression meds, as I ran out of refills last month and I’m not able to see my doctor until December.

I also have been having searing hot pain at the top of my spine. (The Atlas bone is out of alignment and causing a herniated disk).

I promise that I think about this story EVERY SINGLE DAY. I’ve even outlined a one shot in the mean time while I’m working through writers block for The Plan.

So yeah, I wish I had a more exciting update my friend.

I’m sorry.

[morganas-pendragons]

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinkin' of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it

Inside, we both know what's been going on

We know the game and we're gonna play it

And if you ask me how I'm feeling

Don't tell me you're too blind to see

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it

Inside, we both know what's been going on

We know the game and we're gonna play it

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

[morganas-pendragons]

holly | celebrimbor

3 pieces in one weekend is alot for me lol

tag: @celebrimbormylove @erebusbabylon @pentaghasm @thesolarangel @celebrimborsapron

prompt: gifts from the forge

You have been wondering about how to ask this again for weeks. You've had desires to learn more about the forge since your earliest days in Eregion, and Celebrimbor always seems to have an excuse to prevent it.

Your inherently stubborn nature is what prompts you to ask him again, this time with the other Gwaith-I-Mírdain present. Mirdania gives you two thumbs up from behind her station as you approach.

"Lord Celebrimbor?" You call over the ringing of hammers against anvils. "Might I have a moment?"

Celebrimbor looks up from his sketches and smiles. You're so taken with him already, but particularly when he's like this, and even more so when there's lead smudged all over his hands from his sketches.

"I did not see you arrive. What are you up to today, dearest?" He asks.

"I'm coming to ask you a question.." You hesitate. "I would really like to learn how to forge. I have an idea, if you're willing to help me craft it."

Celebrimbor's smile wavers slightly. His main reasoning is that he simply does not wish to see you hurt, but all of his smiths have started in your position. The hopeful smile and the way your eyes shine with curiosity...

He sighs. "Very well. Only under my watch, and you must do as I say. Understood?"

You nod eagerly. Finally.

"Absolutely. You have my word. When do we start?"

"Let's start with you telling me more about your idea."

You are many, many things. Subtle? Not one of them. Mirdania snorts as you lean impossibly closer to Celebrimbr, eagerly talking on about your idea of crafting two holly pins.

It had been her input that had given you the courage.

"A holly leaf??" Celebrimbor asks. "That's an excellent project for a beginner! As it happens, there's gold being prepared for another project and I'm sure there's enough to spare. Come."

You follow Celebrimbor throughout the forge as you both gather the necessary components for crafting these leaves. You allow him to talk most of the way, explaining the mechanics of the forge and how he will be guiding your hands.

You wink at Mirdania as you catch her eye. Perfect. This is what you want.

By the time all of the supplies are gathered and ready, it is only the three of you left in the forge. The others have returned home for the evening. Mirdania bids you both a good evening and mouths, ''good luck!" before she too disappears.

After she departs, Celebrimbor peers over his shoulder at his last remaining companion. "I would understand if you want to continue this in the morning," He begins. "I don't want to keep you from something important."

You flash a pointed, though playful look. "You are important to me, you insufferable elf," You tease. "For you, I have all the time in the world." You stand just in front of him and, after throwing on a smith's apron and gloves, reach for the hammer you know is used to shape the metals. "My hands are yours."

Celebrimbor smiles and steps into your space, chest pressed to your back.

"First you must place the mold.."

"Mhm." You keep your eyes solely focused on his hands. If you get too distracted by how this is the closest he's been to you thus far, you're going to embarrass yourself. "Like that?"

"Carefully," He chides. "I don't want you to burn yourself." You can tell he's been doing this for centuries, as his movements are all slow and precise. "And now to pour the gold..."

He's so warm. So warm, and strong, and safe. You don't recall anyone else who has ever made you feel like this.

You surrender yourself to his guidance, absorbing what little time you will have to feel him like this before he shies away again. You'd let Celebrimbor imprint himself on your soul if he asked it.

Once poured, he guides you to move to the mold so the two of you can watch the metal cool. He watches you out of the corner of his eye. You are so trusting, so pliant, so soft.

Two holly pins are starting to take shape beneath them. They're meant to be worn across cloaks, as was your intention because you're aware that's the only way you can get him to wear it.

You lean into his arms around you as the metal cools. It really is quite a fascinating thing to witness.

Celebrimbor presses his chin into your shoulder. "Do you wish to add any detailing or color?" He asks quietly, relishing the feeling of your body so close to his.

"Green," You whisper, desperately trying not to close your eyes because he's now gotten closer and you can feel all of him. "For Eregion."

Celebrimbor smiles as though he already knows your answer. His affections for you have bloomed, budding from a timid bulb into a flowering plant that continues to bloom under your careful cultivation. He knows he loves you. He knows you: your weaknesses and fears and desires and aches.

He is still trying to allow you to know him. He wants to, yes, but it proves difficult. This may be a start.

"If I didn't know better," Celebrimbor teases lowly in your ear. The rasp in his voice is enough to make you shiver. 'I'd say you were trying to flatter the Lord of Eregion."

"You gave me a home," You reply simply. It is the easiest answer you've ever given. "Two of them. You, as the person, and Eregion as the place." Scarlet dusts his cheeks as he hides his face in your shoulder. "Of course, I am trying to flatter you, you ridiculous smith."

You peer at him through your peripheral and wink.

Oh, I am done for.

It is only then in the glow of the forge that Celebrimbor is struck by how beautiful you are.

"May I kiss you, my love?" He whispers in your ear.

It is not often that you are caught off guard. This time you are. You turn around in his embrace and wrap your arms around your neck as you nod. "I would love nothing more, meleth nin." You reply.

Without giving himself the opportunity to second guess this decision, Celebrimbor takes this risk and presses his lips to yours, one hand deftly cradling the back of your neck while the other rests at the small of your back.

All coherent thoughts go flying out the window as you curl your fingers against his chest. This is what you've wanted for weeks now, for Celebrimbor to realize that you want him to touch you as much as you touch him. You want him to let him know you the way you know him. There's already been so much vulnerability, so many nights of whispered confessions hidden in the dark and tears wiped away with the pads of your thumbs, yet he still hesitates to take that final leap.

Until now.

When you pull away, a whimper breaks at the back of your throat, and your fingers have moved to tangle in a mess of dark blonde curls.

Letting you pull away is one of the hardest things Celebrimbor has ever done. All he wishes to do now that he's taken that leap is to pull you back and cover you in his kisses, to worship you like the being of divinity you are, to sweep you off your feet with the heart of the hopeless romantic he knows he is.

"You are ethereal," Celebrimbor breathes against your lips as he rests his forehead against your own. "Unlike anyone I have ever known. I am sorry it has taken me so long to communicate that."

You could say so many things to him in that moment about how much you love him. About how Celebrimbor has become your sole reason for continued breathing, about how his passions and desires and yearning for life have given you a renewed purpose.

You do neither. Not yet.

"Help me finish our pins," You say softly, lightly tugging on his hair as you continue to play with it. He suppresses the groan rumbling in his chest as heavy-lidded hazel eyes meet yours. "And then I will allow myself to echo that same sentimentality to you."

Rationality overcomes him once again. Celebrimbor clears his throat, cheeks reddening. "Right." He coughs into his arm, scratching at the back of his neck as you part just enough to turn back around in his embrace. "The pins. Let us place the adornments."

"I promise they have a purpose. Help me finish them, and then we can talk."

You remain back to chest as two gold holly leaf pins begin to take shape beneath you - adorned with green embellishments that spiral and shatter against gold jewels carefully placed along the length of each pin.

When they cool, you grab the first with careful fingers and turn around, his fingers drumming absently against your hips as you fasten it against his robes. Celebrimbor stares down at the pin in amazement. “You intended this to be for me?” He asks softly.

You press your fingertips against your lips before reaching for your own and reaching out to lay it in his hand. “Will you pin this into my hair?” You ask. He nods, pulling you closer to carefully tuck the holly pin into the hair you have that remains tied up. Celebrimbor exhales softly as his fingers drag against the expanse of your neck. You are so soft. “I told you I’d talk after we concluded. Here’s what I have to say to you.”

You take both of his hands and press them against your hips firmly. Your own fingers drag across his cheeks, tracing the lines of the crows feet around his eyes and the reddening skin that blooms under your touch.

His breathing hitches when you reach his lips. Against the light of the fire, Celebrimbor is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s always so open, so wanting, always quietly craving more of a thing he thinks he can’t have. He has such a deeply personal connection to the world around him and appreciates even the smallest of things that most people would look over and ignore.

You lean inward to kiss him. He responds in kind, a long and slow kiss that slowly grows into one that has you pressed against Mirdania’s work station and his hands on either side of you to cage you in. Celebrimbor has gradually grown more confident in this area, and it often shows when he physically responds to the little sounds you make in response to the depths of his kisses.

You whine softly as he parts for just long enough to venture down your neck, right to your pulse of your right shoulder. “You are my peace,” You whisper, eyes fluttering as you flex your hands in the fabric of his robes. “My hearts safe keeping, my home, my desires and wants and everything I have ever wished for. You are everything good I have sought for so long, Celebrimbor. I wish you’d see it.”

You shiver as his tongue works against the muscle of your shoulder where a red mark blooms, and he only stops when he realizes that there is a tattoo on your skin just beneath your collarbone.

It is a holly leaf.

Celebrimbor has never seen skin markings on anyone, let alone an Elf. It is highly irregular. Nevertheless, he nuzzles your collarbone before laying a featherlight kiss thereupon.

“Where did this come from?” He asks, fascinated by the intricacies of the design and how it stands out against your skin. “It is identical to the pins, and to the holly leaf that is associated with Eregion.”

“I’ve had it all my life.” You remark. “It only gained its color when I met you. No one else knows about it.”

Celebrimbor has no idea what that means, but he is grateful to be knowledgeable of your secret as he pulls away to look at you properly. Your eyes are wide, lips swollen and hair nearly untucked from the pin he’s placed within it. You’re beautiful.

He wants you forever.

I’m going to marry you one day.

"I am going to get better at this," The words are out before he can take them back, and you stare up at him starstruck as his hands again find your face. "Better at communicating the depths of my affection for you. I no longer wish to hide it for fear of insecurities or old haunts coming back to taunt me. These things that say I am not good enough for you," You open your mouth to argue, but Celebrimbor simply places his fingers upon your lips and blushes when you kiss his fingertips. "You have shown me a different truth amidst all of the turmoil and deception that has plagued my life. If I am to keep to any oath, it will be an oath to you, melda."

Tears burn your eyes as you nod and allow him to pull you into a hug. The hour is late, and you are tired, which prompts you to ask the one question you never thought he'd say yes to.

"I do not wish to return home," You say quietly. "May I stay in your chambers with you tonight?"

He does not answer, just simply takes your hand and leads you through the hallways you have rarely stepped into since the tower was completed. You watch each door pass you by before he stops in front of the last one, which is the furthest away and out of sight of curious eyes. Then, he opens the door and allows you inside.

While you take in the sight of Celebrimbor's bedroom - and how nervous it should make you to be in it - he steps away to find something comfortable for you to wear and comes up with a dark-colored shift he'd had made for you months prior that was intended to be a gift.

"Here, darling. This should do it." Celebrimbor calls, turning toward you, only to find that you are already lying in his bed with your body turned toward the door and your hand tucked under your cheek. The comfort you find in him knows no bounds. "Sweet, sweet girl."

He changes his own robes into his nightclothes and slips into bed, wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you closer to him so he can bury his face in your hair.

Rest, Celebrimbor. Allow yourself this. Be peaceful.

Sleep claims him with ease.

The next morning, Mirdania finds the two of you again in the Forge, but this time you are both wearing intricately holly pins proudly on display against your chosen clothes for the day.

She grins to herself and continues to tend to her work.

[morganas-pendragons]

@mrtobenamedlater looking directly at me across like six state lines: but not Kayla, Kayla can’t keep thirsting over old elvish men 😂😂😂

Write the fic you wish to see in the world

[morganas-pendragons]

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐋

elvish armor as commander during the siege of eregion. season two the rings of power.