#:: celebrian :: oflorien ::

[ondothlim]

You're in the wind, I'm in the water. . . Nobody's son, nobody's daughter. . .

The reason for my absence the past two days. I was in art mode. Yet here we are: Celebrian and Lómion ( Yes Lómion, not Elrond. ) for @oflorien.

[mvndrvke]

@oflorien gets a starter! ft. celeborn

Wounds were never truly recovered from, even when the scars were long since faded. Celeborn had been looking forward to welcoming his daughter to Lórien after much time away, but he could not blame her for returning home after her capture. Something he would never wish to share with his daughter is this, but it brings his own memories of being a hostage centuries ago.

He does not expect her to attempt the journey again, so he does instead. He is welcome in Rivendell; he pays his respects to Elrond, gives his grandsons his thanks for bringing their mother safely home, and finds Celebrian in one of the delicate gardens overlooking the waterfalls around the sanctuary of her home.

"They told me I would find you out here," he says to alert her to his presence. He walks over and presses a kiss to his daughter's temple. "How are you feeling? We've barely heard from you since your return."

[elrxnd]

LINDONS LEAVES OF SUMMER GOLD floated to the ground from far above, a lovely sight to anyone who visited the realm, this time of peace. He sat within his tree, plans of a feast laid within his lap for the King to entertain that evening. Emissaries were gathering from the major elven realms, from Eryn Lasgalen and Lorien, sent to discuss things which were ‘above his privilege’. It was a technicality, what Gil-Galad knew, Elrond knew, such was their relationship as the King's unofficial ‘heir’.  How many times had Gil-Galad tried to make that change, to make him an official prince of elvendom was beyond count within the thousand years of peace that he had made. The descendant of all thrones, Gil-Galad believed it would be easy to pass it down to him, to unite the realms forever. Turgon, the last king, his great-grandsire, and Thingol being great-great-grandsire--it would end Oropher's annoyance at a Noldor being ‘High King', and unify them all.

ELROND SAW IT AS A DAMN NUISANCE. What did he need titles for, to crowd his quiet and gentle life with the expectations of those who surrounded him? HERALD was his title, the only one he desired. He was not one for speeches and crowds, where his cousin navigated them far easier. There were politics in court that he felt uncomfortable in, best it stayed the way it was for all involved. So he scribbled another set of instructions, seating arrangements which would be the least likely to end in a quarrel. Squabbles were unfitting of the court of the King. 

A messenger approached, and he was informed there were new guests arrived from Eregion, causing his pen and scroll to take a moment of reprieve. As Herald his duties extended to that of welcoming guests, and so he headed to the great hall to do so, passing by a servant to send the papers to his office. Hand over heart, he greeted the guests, smiling widely at the sight of Galadriel, an old friend, whose presence delighted him to see. She, in turn, greeted him warmly, a hand upon his cheek in motherly affection. Amroth followed, recently returned from the north, who clasped him to his breast in a brotherly embrace and spoke of needing to speak to the High King without much more preamble. Elrond simply raised a brow, and movement caught his eye from behind his friend. 

Then, all was SILENT. It was if the moment stopped, and his sight beheld one he was certain he knew her name before she spoke it. HIS HEART TOOK THE MOMENT TO ANNOUNCE ITS PRESENCE, much to his surprise, leaping and making him awkward feeling. A step toward her taken, he bowed slightly in greeting, ook her delicate hand in his and raised it to his lips, keeping his eyes upon her like a blind man struck with the beauty of the stars. "You must be Celebrian," he said with distant voice, grasping at words as if they were eels slipping from his fingers. . "Your family speaks quite highly of you, It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last."

Starter for @oflorien

[whichofsummer]

a kiss on the palm.

It was a moment. —a scene. —an experience.

One that could become ordinary as the days go by, and could easily be drowned by more and more moments that he wanted to experience. But right now?

It was the most important moment, as vaguely as he would come to remember the magnificence of the view before them, the perfectness of the weather, and so many others that would become unimportant. For there was something too big within his chest, and it made him want.

Desperately. To be more.

More than whatever he was now. 'More than lord of Imladris? More than—'

More when all those are lost, he thought as he turned to the woman beside him. He had lost track of what she was talking about, the too big something in his chest only aware that he could feel her presence beside him. Like a brand that he wanted to press even tighter to his skin, for the distance between them was severely too much. 

To be enough when it was just him.

"I—," Elrond heard his voice break the beat of silence, followed by the sound of his own deep breath. His mind had gone through so many possibilities and so many ways, reviewing counsel he himself gave about matters he could think were similar to what he now faced. Round and round, until he had given up. "Celebrian—"

He turned to face her, and telegraphed, he reached for her hand. Relieved when, she let him take hold. Celebrating when she let him raise it close towards him. His knees wanting to buckle, when he was allowed to hold it in both of his. Oh, how daring of him to clasp it palm to palm, with his free hand tracing each finger.

Carve every feature to memory. Burn each sensation to last, to be there when longing rears its head. Let keen eyes see her in the space between my arms, when I dance with shadows.

He raised his gaze to meet hers, as he flipped her hand over. And before her, he bowed, eyes ever hers until the last moment they fluttered close. A kiss upon her palm, far from feather-light. A press as if he wanted to sink beneath her skin, needing to engrave a part of him because he couldn't yet give her his all.

Haunt me.

[menmyth]

Three days had come and passed and finally they were drawing close to the tourney. Whispers had stalked them every mile of the way, eager voices of ladies maids and guards never seemed lacking. Niall can feel the weight of his brow drawn downward, stead keeping pace beside the carriage as it winds and wheels itself closer and closer to its destination. He can feel those gold eyes on him, watching as they continue their journey. Shifting his gaze to his right he steals a glance of the fair blonde seated in the carriage window, the soft curl of her lips given to him in response to his acknowledgement. Letting his gaze return to the road ahead he rolls his shoulders back sitting higher, voice low but enough to carry to her ears. “ Are you excited to watch the tournament my lady? I’ve heard for nonstop these few days that it is surely something to see. “ His remark is laced in a tinge of bitterness, of course to his fellow men and women in service. Their enthusiasm disgusted him, only for the fact they were entertained by such pompous behavior. Warriors did not play fight in arenas to have lords and ladies jeered and encourage them to impale their fellow man; but what did he know after all? “ There are rumors floating about of a particular young lord being interested in your arrival. “ 

@oflorien liked for a thing!

[menmyth]

@oflorien

MY LADY JANE (2024-) 1.08 God Save the Queen

[iriysse]

" you're bleeding. "

Inbox Answered---

--- Haze at last cleared her vision, breathing heavy and daggers still gripped amid the slickness against their hilt. It took a moment to register that it was over, that they were safe at last. Her heart still pounded quickly in her chest and ears, and her eyes frantically searched for Celebrían in worry before at last she saw her.

Safe. Whole. Perfectly alright. And speaking--

The older elleth breathed deeply and took a breath, blinking as she finally heard what was being said. Following her gaze as if still detached from her own form, she finally observed the blood that was her own staining her clothes. A deep breath, another blink, pain blossomed from her arm and side, ragged gashes which she knew would be long to heal. She hissed at the sight of black blood upon one of the wounds, and wiped at it in reflex.

"I'll be alright." She said stoically, examining the younger elleth in motherly worry, daggers sliding into sheaths that she would wash later. "Are you?"

[celevrian]

“  you’re  just  stalling  now.  ”

Inbox Answered---

--- She blew her hair out of her face, eyes peering over her oversized book toward her sister in the doorway. She had been sitting in the window, curled up in the sunlight. The valley of Imladris lay beyond her in full beauty, loveliness in every leaf, blossom, and blade of grass. There were dreams within the walls of its buildings, and a music in its air she wanted desperately to be a part of. Belonging had finally settled in her, and she knew this was where she would stay. Telling her parents, however, who intended to head over the mountains to their kin in the forest beyond was not a conversation she was relishing.

"I don't know what you're talking about. " She replied, giving no indication she had any intention of moving. " I am simply . . . delaying the inevita---oh . . . that is stalling, isn't it. hmm . . . alright. " She closed the book and with a sigh that looked like it took effort heaved herself upright. Nibbling at her bottom lip, she finally decided to speak " nethel . . . I'm not going with ada and naneth. I am . . . staying . . . here. "

[orodrethiel]

" would you like to talk about it ? "

Inbox Answered---

--- Finduilas looked to the forest roof, sighing as she considered her thoughts. It was kind of Celebrian to ask, and she appreciated the gesture, but there was much within her mind that simply sat there like a ghost and not pressing like it used to be. She hummed a little song and shook her head, fingers finishing their weaving of the sunflowers and daisies that she had formed into a crown.

"I'm alright." She said, lifting the crown to Celebríans head and setting it down. "There are many things which have found a certain... dormancy in my mind. It does not do well to dwell in the darkness of thoughts needlessly, especially on such a lovely day."

Her thumb stroked her cousin's cheek and she fondly dropped a kiss onto her brow. "I would rather hear of you and what thoughts buzz about in your mind. Like little bees." Buzzing playfully, she adjusted one flower then tapped Celebrians nose.

[iriysse]

Emotion brings Aredhel nearly to tears at the confirmation Celebrían gives, knowing the fear that haunts her son, his past not yet dead within his own mind. Love had been a doubt for him, so convinced in his own failure at life, yet living proof exists before her. It's a beautiful thing to witness, young love in all it's aspects.

" ah! I would not concern myself with that, little one. There are many who have similar, I've no doubt. Be it protector or dear friend --- the only one who may bring opposition would be your ada. Your naneth likely already knows, as perceptive as she is, and she knows who Lómion is. " it had been a requirement to his protecting of her daughter. Aredhel still recalled how long she had spent trying to convince her cousin to allow it, yet it had been Lómion himself who had spoken at last, and persuaded her he would protect her daughter with his life.

Though Aredhel now wondered just how far her cousins sight had been concerning this. Had she agreed with knowledge of this development? " are you betrothed yet? Or simply speaking of love too early to give title to it? "

JOY  THAT  OVERWHELMS  FEARS,  her  hands  that  squeeze  the  elder's.  a  flash  of  promise  dances  across  her  features,  of  a  future,  inherited  with  her  heart  singing  in  the  cage  of  her  chest.  ❛  he  did.  ❜  so  endearing,  so  gentle  in  speech  and  flush  of  cheeks  as  hearing  his  feelings  confirmed.  beyond  their  hidden  world  kept  as  the  most  sacred  treasure  between  them.  ❛  i  cannot  imagine  myself  without  him.  ❜  even  now  she  longs  but  there  is  safety  here,  by  extension  of  lómion  in  the  one  who  brought  him  into  this  world.  of  perhaps,  even  greater  luck  to  be  gifted  the  presence  of  aredhel  as  source  of  inspiration  and  future  mother.

❛  i  will  not  let  him  go.  ❜  there  is  a  gentle  ferocity  behind  the  declaration,  one  she  had  gained  in  confidence  because  of  the  unyielding  shadow  that  followed  her  every  step.  and  more  to  the  love  shared.  ❛  i  fear  that  because  he  is  my  protector,  some  will  think  it  wrong.  ❜  she  would  evade  them  all  and  run  with  him  if  such  was  the  case.

[ondothlim]

❝ They cannot make me marry him if we are married already. ❞ lomy

Inbox Answered---

--- Jealousy was not easily found in his veins, possessiveness long having vacated his heart in fear of becoming his father. But a shadow remained, which the very words she spoke breathed back to life. It lurched forth with bared fangs, ready to sink into the throat of the elf they were attempting to force upon her. She was already his, promised in bond and word, perhaps not to the lord and lady of the Galadhrim, but between the two of them.

Starlight hair twirled around his long fingers, contrasted with the slight tan of his skin, he pondered her words and decided that her statement would need to become reality. And why not? He loved her with every fibre of his being, and it would end this ridiculous notion that any other would be capable of laying claim.

And so he leaned forward, lips against the curve of her neck in reassurance that he was there, and she did not have to worry. "Then I suppose it's time to break our news with your parents." He murmured against her skin. "For you are mine, Celebrían, as I am yours. We are wed already in the eyes of the Valar, and there is no room for another ellon between us." The very thought made his chest constrict, and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him and whispered into her hair. "Not a grown one, that is."

[ondothlim]

“  you  are  the  brute  squad.  ”

Inbox Answered---

---Five heads looked toward her, a mixture of amusement and confusion upon faces.

Glorfindel was the amusement, sliding over to her with a flower in his hand which he soon found a way to weave into her hair. "I wouldn't say that." He said.

"Of course he wouldn't." Ecthelion groused from his place hovering over Egalmoth's shoulder.

Egalmoth added with a chuckle. "He forgets how big he is."

Ithril hummed and appeared behind Celebrian before she pulled her to the side as Maeglin held up a thread of gold spun like a web with stars which he placed within her hair and lowering to her ear he whispered. "Don't listen to them. You're right. They're absolute nightmares when they want to be. A pair of Feanorians and a. . . " he paused. "Overenthusiastic puppy." A smirk followed. "Do you feel safe?"

[ondothlim]

she’s long settled behind him, softest fingertips carding through darkest tendrils. her thighs squeeze around his torso with a taunting little giggle and a gentle warning. “ meleth nîn, stay still. “ what follows such playful ire is a tender kiss between lomion’s shoulder blades. a lock of silver woven into his hair so delicately at the nape of his neck. she reaches the bottom of tiniest plait, nerves flustered in the swell of her chest. “ I just want the world to see it. at least a piece of my soul to the eye so they know who it all belongs to.”

Inbox answered---

--- Curiosity laid him passively beneath her, a rumbling in his chest of playful protest which he did not mean. He settled his head on his arms and allowed himself to simply enjoy her touch, every sense taking her in. The feel of her upon his back, her kiss between his shoulder blades, her fingers in his hair--every touch gave him patience as he waits to discover what it is she's doing. He could feel her nerves, and his fea reached out to calm her. Whatever it was she was planning, there was no possibility of rejection.

But he stayed still in body as she commanded. Servant of her whim. His thoughts debated the fact that she had such sway over him, questioned whether or not it was too much. Conclusions were met that he did not care, for she could bid him go to the ends of the earth for the most trivial of reasons, and if it pleased her he would without a single question. Her happiness was his chief concern.

At last she finished, and he listened closely to her words, brow furrowed in curiosity as he reached back to his locks to find the hair she'd been playing with, and pulled it back over his shoulder. There, amid the midnight curls was a braid, and silver strands were woven beautifully throughout. Like a ray of starlight shining proudly in the darkness. Woven like she was around his soul.

So they know who it all belongs to. . . he paused. That was not a word he'd ever had a good opinion of. His father had used it most, pertaining to himself and his mother, and a spike of fear struck through him as he recognized something snakelike wish to spin around her and keep her to himself. Yet, some part of his mind wrestled with it. She should not belong to him, she did not, she was and should be her own, no---

A deep breath, he halted his thoughts and shoved the snake into the cage within his mind. Celebrian was born from love, she meant it lovingly, without his childhood to perceive it through. Belonging was natural to her. Desired. He understood that, for it was something they had in common ( though perhaps he would have named it something else ). For there was truth in it. He belonged to her, and for the first time he liked that feeling in spite of fear.

His unrest quieted, and turning beneath her he offered her a smile as he reached up to her face. "A symbol of us both then." He sat up and his fingers threaded through her hair as his smile dropped into utter devotion. "My silver queen, so tangled in my soul, I am as bound to you as you are to me. But I worry, needlessly perhaps, of what that could mean. Promise me that if I ever bring you fear, you do not tolerate it. No matter how you love me. Belong to me," he purred, a thread of greed reaching out and reveling in the words. "but do not allow me to harm you. Agreed?"

[ondothlim]

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb ( lómion )

Inbox Answered---

--- A beast blistered beneath his skin, feral and unhinged, barely restrained as it gnawed at its cage, let loose long enough that now it felt as if it owned him. He was her guardian-- more than her guardian, he was her lover, so bound to her that the beast calmed beneath her touch, and at last lowered it's head-- killing had been an assumption in the role. Yet he had not expected just how vicious he would be.

Black blood spattered his cheeks, he had been crazed, imagining a world in which she'd be touched, hurt. . .dead. It was a world he refused to live in. To be unable to touch her, hold her, rest beside her and with her. To watch a morning, to watch their future. He imagined it gone in an instant. It had been a flurry of thoughts before he'd even established them into words. His light snuffed out in darkness. Every thread within him had simply snapped.

. . . When the dust had settled he worried that when he looked at her again he would find fear in her eyes. Her protector was still a dark elf, cheating in every way against his enemies to trip them into his blade. He nauseated himself at the thought for he had defended her, but at what cost--

Her touch. Lovely and full of light, his hands went to hers, gripping tightly to assure himself that she was there. Nuzzling gently into her hand like a pup, his dark eyes lifted to hers, seeking any fear to meet him in the open. For all his ferality, he was still her Lómion within.

"You are unharmed? They did not touch you?"

[ondothlim]

" shut up and let me help you. " ( endearingly to glorfindel )

Inbox Answered---

--- He was fine, he didn't know why she didn't believe him. Eyes glowed still in internal light, making him look maiarin trapped within an elven body. In a way he felt like a maiar trapped within an elven body, as if his flesh could melt away and finally allow his spirit to burst forth and destroy the creatures which now fled from him. He looked down upon her, and soon began to soothe, her touch bringing him once more within his body.

This body which was injured.

One hand still held his sword, but the other lifted to her face, thumb tracing along the line of her cheek. His head rested gently against hers, and his eyes closed. His body would heal, faster than it used to, and as he breathed he could feel the wound knitting back together piece by piece.

"It's only a scratch, Celebrían." He whispered, green eyes opening to look playfully into her golden ones, reassuring that he was alright. "Though I suppose if you insist, you can help me clean up?"

[menmyth]

❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency to roll your eyes at me.  honestly it's hurtful. ❞ @oflorien

Hurtful?  had  she  forgotten  who  he  was  at  his  roots  entirely. A  long  drawn  out  sigh  slipped  from  his  lips,  dark  eyes  shifting  to  look  from  his  apple  to  peer  at  the  silver  blonde  before  him. They  had  been  so  very  wrong  when  describing  the  lady  before  him. Meek,  frail,  tender  like  a  flower  at  the  first  of  spring  –  how  well  paid  had  they  been  to  lie  such  brazen  lies  is  what  he  wished  to  know. Celebrian  wasn’t  anything  of  the  sort  and  at  best  she  had  grown  to  become  the  thorn  in  his  arse,  but  unlike  many  who  would  pluck  the  damned  thing  out  Niall  let  it  be.      he  let  her  be. Let  her  into  his  space,  and  should  he  ever  be  tortured  he  wouldn't  dare  even  admit  it  then  that  his  world  had  altered. It  was  brighter,  crisper  in  ways  he  didn't  know  possible  –  but  to  confess  such  a  thing  was  foolish. She  was  a  lady,  a  woman  of  title  and  nobility,  someone  who  would  make  a  lovely  wife  and  pop  out  a  few  heirs  if  she  could  manage. Confessions  like  his  own  were  mere  stories  whispered  about  over  tavern  fires  to  wenches  who  would  let  you  pay  them  to  call  them  a  different  name. Rolling  his  tongue  along  his  teeth  he  shoots  her  with  a  narrowed  look,  voice  low  and  rough  as  it  always  had  been. “  shall  i  leap  to  my  feet  and  do  a  dance  of  celebration?  or  have  you  just  realized  that  even  the  best  work  is  still  just  work  that's  needed  to  be  done  my  lady?  “