#Adar x Reader

[lazyneonrabbitt]

On the morning dew

Adar x elven reader

You've walked middle earth longer than any other. Now when word of one of the Moriondor sounds through Lindon you set out to find out who it is.

Just fluffy goodness with ancient elf reader, Uruk dad and his children who like to misbehave.

You had walked the lands of Middle Earth far longer than many.

Time was barely a thing anymore for the first elves that sprouted way back then.

You lived your live comfortably among your kind, watching new generations come, and now in Lindon surrounded by people whom you attempted to fill the hole in your heart with. A hole left by one long gone but still feared by many.

All those ages ago, when Sauron was recruiting for his new army, he had so effortlessly taken him from you.

You loved him then, before he had left and after still, and you have never stopped. You had tried to love other since then, but none ever felt the same and the ache never left. The short moments of interesting new relations were never bad, but they'd end in feelings of betrayal and you quickly moved on. Again to wander alone.

A mere week ago word came to Lindon, through the lips of the blonde soldier who you were convinced had left for Valinor. Galadriel. She brought words of chaos in the Southlands, where who she thought to be one of the Moriondor was causing destruction with an army of orcs.

Upon hearing the words your mind filled with possibility. Endless scenes of what might be. Could it be him? Even if it wasn't him, but any of the others who were with him at the time then perhaps they could tell you of him, to at least get closure and move on.

The images plagued your mind for days before your thoughts gathered enough to take action.

You changed your nowadays finest garments for something more suited for travel. Something sturdier and less eye-catching. You gathered your supplies and set out without a word, in your mind already having a million excuses ready as to why you were leaving.

Luckily no one wondered and your departure was a quiet one.

For long you walked leaving Lindon behind you, resting only when the area allowed for it and no creatures lurked. You hid your ears around villages, presenting yourself as a simple traveler seeking an overnight stay or a nice cooked meal for a change.

Forests came and went, dark and overgrown between large stretches of field where nothing stood between you and thr sun. Long winding rivers delayed your travels, walking along miles of shore to reach the nearest crossing.

The woods you had entered during the day, now only halfway crossed during nightfall had proven trouble. Since entering the treeline there had been the feeling of being watched, distant gazes burning your skin during the daylight and torchlight catching trees around it during nighttime, indicating whoever was around still followed you.

It was in the dead of night that your stalkers made themselves known,loud snarls and growling voices speaking unknown tongues surrounded you as a group of orcs set out to hunt you down.

It took running, leaping past greenery and climbing trees to stay out of their claws. Arrows just barely missed you until they ran out, having to rely on their sword and spears to eound you.

You ran until the sky behind the trees started changing color ever so slightly, announcing the soon to come sunrise. With everly last ounce of breath you had left in you you forced yourself past the treeline and into the open field, where the attackers would not dare follow.

As they scurried away you let yourself fall down, rolling onto your back to catch your breath for a short moment, the grass cooling your body in the kindest way.

Leaves rustled beside you, making you sit up and look back into the forest that sat unmoving.

The orcs returnes to their troops, having informed their leader of their failure to capture the elf. It did not bother him that they failed, but still set out on his own to see for himself who was swift enough to stay out of his hunters' grasp.

He had caught a familiar scent on the wind, and felt the need to follow it.

The trail his children left was an easy one to follow, leading him to where he could see past the trees to where a figure sat, gazing at the horizon.

"Quite impressive, being able to outrun my Uruks."

A gravely voice spoke and caught you off guard, jumping up and standing face to face with an elf clad in black. He took in your everything as you did the same to him, silence falling over the moment that seemed to had frozen.

As frozen as the time you stood still as he took a step closer, hand raising to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

His palm rested there, on your cheek as he sought your eyes for any sign of recognition. To him you looked as beautiful as those moments you shared in your first days. Even with your garment and hair disheveled from running he found you the most stunning sight.

To you, it was him before you. His once flawless skin now torn and stitched back together leaving patterned scars over his face, his once ever so bright eyes dulled by the darkness.

Your hand rose, mimicing his action of brushing aside his hair. Only you did it to assess the scarring he aquired during your absence. Webbed skin stretching from his brow to above his ear, a thick, branching line following his cheekbone down his jaw.

"What have they done to you?" Tears brimmed your eyes as you imagined the pain he had gone through and feeling the anger well up inside.

The look in his eyes never lost its softness towards you, and instead of truthfully answering you he held you. I his embrace you let yourself take him in fully, the cold metal of his armor beneath your hands and his clawed glove scratching your scalp ever so softly.

With his hands on your hips he looked you in the eyes. There was a plea in them begging to come out but his lips did not dare to comply. Surely after those ages you must have lost those feelings you shared back then. You couldn't be interested in what he was now, a mess of mangled flesh and mind, no longer elven in body and soul.

You musn't still have feelings for the old Uruk that stood before you.

Your hands snuck between you, and Adar fully believed you were pushing him away for a moment, until your arms wrapped behind his neck to pull him into a kiss.

No words were necessary to share your feelings as you poured them all into him with your lips connected.

You had found him, scarred and aged but he was there with you, and that was all that mattered.

You uttered his name but were quickly interupted.

"Adar." He softly spoke just an inch from your lips. "My name is Adar, lord father of the Uruks of thr Southland." His head rested in the crook of your neck, affraid you'd disappear once he let go. But you never did. Your mouth pressed against his scarred temple as you softly swayed to a tune in your mind.

In the glow of the rising sun you hummed the tune as old as time, one you had danced to many nights before.

Adar caught on, joining in and swaying with you. A smile reappearing on his lips.

Together you danced as you did before, held in each others' arms to a tune long forgotten by everyone except you.

Adar wished for nothing but a home for his children. He wished now for you to call it home, too.

"I wish for you to meet my children." The hand on your hip steered you towards the forest, where a group of Uruks had collected, just out of the sun's reach. They no longer looked at you with hunger in their eyes, instead they presented themselves as a welcoming party.

"We apologise, lady." One of them spooe for the group, a skinnier Uruk wearing a chainmail hood. "We didn't know you belonged to Adar."

"B.. belong to?" You gave Adar a glance but he dismissed it, speaking to his company in a language you did not understand.

As you walked the Uruks fell into step beside you one by one, introducing themselves and asking you all kinds of things while Adar and the others conversed in that same unknown language. The further you walked the more Adar's composure seemed to be cracking, the Uruks cackling and almost tripping over brances. It almost looked like they teased him.

A breathy laugh left you that made Adar look over to you. "What was that, dear?"

The way he put emphasis on the term had heat rise to your cheeks and turned the subject of the Uruks' laughter your way.

"Nothing, Lord Father." You faked a bow with a smile and moved on.

One of the Uruks came back to your side, pressed against your shoulder and whispered you some words in black speech. Useful words Adar would want you to learn soon in case of trouble, and a term of endearment to get on his good side.

You took in Adar's frame from the back where you walked, seeing his fists clenched and steps heavy. He was clearly still unhappy with whatever it was the Uruks shared with him.

You were going to be kind to him, hopping over to his side and taking his hand in yours. "Adar, dear." You spoke quietly with your cheek against his shoulder. "I'm glad we found each other again, sharkû."

He halted every movement then, head snapping your way so quick you surprised he didn't break his neck.

"What was that? Because I hope you just mispronounced something." You looked over at Glûg, who had offered you the word and was now, along with the rest of the party trying his best not to burst out in laughter. "Oh come on. You tricked me! That's unbelievable, what did I say??"

"Called him an old man." Bazur, the one failing hardest in keeping his laughter at bay called over to you before doubling over in hysterics.

Beside you Adar snarled, his clawed glove raised at his children. "Whoever thinks they can teach her any new words better make sure she's taught the right ones."

You looked back at your lover. "But, they're not wrong.. You are ancient, so am I." With raised brows you shrugged.

With a long drawn out sigh he dropped the topic along with his hand, turning back around to continue the trek home. A soft smile on his face the second he was sure his children would not see it.

He was glad you all got along so well already.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Ancient Script

This is for my dear friend @bigblissandlove1! Thank you so much for putting up with me screaming about this brainrot! I hope you enjoy this fic, my friend.

I'm not tagging anyone else in this, because the taglist I set up was for a whole other fic outside of RoP. If anyone wants to be tagged in future fics from The Hobbit, LotR, or RoP, please let me know! This is an AU fic in 2 regards: 1.) Soulmate AU 2.) it's set in the early Third Age - Adar is presumed dead by Sauron who has taken control of the Uruks, and he's biding his time in a small village while he concocts a plan.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This is fluff with a couple of mentions of violence, but nothing graphic.]

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Uruk/Human romance, kissing, soulmarks are your soulmate's name in their handwriting, he falls first, he kills a man to protect her but it's not graphic.

~*~

The shop selling arms and armor had been around in our village longer than I'd been alive, and certainly longer than the seven years I'd lived there. The shop owner, a rather private Ellon, wasn't exactly outgoing, at least, not to most people in the village.

But me...he would actively ask how I was when I passed each morning on my delivery route from the baker's shop. Perhaps it was because the scent of freshly baked bread was irresistible. Or maybe his lack of conversation with the others had made him lonely and desperate enough to try and interact with the one person who had never been rude to him.

The others seemed to find it acceptable to be less courteous just because he was different. I never did, though. My parents had taught me to be kind to all, even before we'd picked up and moved from the next village over for an opportunity for my father's business to grow.

So, every morning as I made deliveries up and down the main road, I eagerly looked forward to the moment when he'd open the door to his shop and allow me a brief conversation - that was more than most people got when they weren't discussing the particulars of a transaction with him.

This morning was only slightly different. Usually, I delivered to his end of the road first, but today I needed to make sure I ended there, instead. So, in reverse order, I made my way steadily toward his shop, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw his door open as usual when I was only a few steps away.

"There you are," he rasped as a small smile stretched his lips. "I had begun to wonder if you had forgotten me this morning."

"Oh, no! Never, sir," I said as I pulled his usual weekly order out of my basket, neatly wrapped in baker's cloth and tied with a little string. His fingertips brushed mine as he took it, and I let out a huff of nervous laughter. "Actually, I had a reason to save you for last, today. Assuming that your shop is already open, of course. If not, I can always come back later."

"For you, my door is always open, my lady," he said taking a step back and gesturing for me to come inside. I'd never actually been in his shop before.

"Thank you, sir," I murmured slipping in and trying to stay out of his way.

The scent of leather and metal, polish and grit permeated the air within the store, giving the whole place the feeling of an army at rest. Gleaming plate armor, razor-sharp swords, knives of nearly-infinite variety, and bows that looked lethal even at a glance were all neatly arranged on shelves and wall hooks.

I should've come here sooner.

"Now, what was so important that you felt you must rearrange your entire morning?" The Ellon asked as he laid the wrapped loaf of bread on the desk where he changed coin and made trades.

"Ah, 'tis twofold," I said as I opened my bag and pulled out my small, sheathed dagger. The shimmering blue stone laid into the hilt glinted as brightly in the morning light as it did the day my grandfather had given it to me. "The lower priority of the two would be my dagger. I lent it to one of my neighbors, and, well..."

Carefully unsheathing it, I showed him the now-split blade.

"If it is beyond repair, I certainly understand, but..." I shrugged, and he lifted the blade, inspecting its surface with his experienced eye.

"Not at all. This is easily fixed. I can have it for you by tomorrow morning," he murmured, laying it gently - almost reverently - on his desk and looking at me curiously. "And the second of your needs, my lady?"

Subconsciously, I ran my thumb over the cloth that covered my illegible soulmark. I knew whoever it was likely couldn't be entirely certain that I truly existed or, like me, could not read my name where it was inked upon their skin, but touching it even indirectly was still a comfort.

"I need to find a gift for my father. His birthday is in a fortnight, and I was wondering if, perhaps, I could examine your bows?"

He smiled at that.

"Certainly. Come with me." The Ellon led me to one of the large displays at the side, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic as he did so. When we reached the long line of curved and carved wood, I felt an answering touch through my soulmark - something so delicate that I could never be certain if I was just imagining things or if it was real. "If you already have a particular style in mind, then pay me no attention, but I must admit I am familiar with your father's current - let us say 'well-loved' - weapon. This, perhaps, might suit his needs and accommodate his firing style."

Lifting an intricately-carved bow from the rack, he strung it in one much-too-smooth movement that made my breath hitch. Clearly Elvish in design, that bow was finer than any that either my father or I owned.

"I know that you are an archer yourself, my lady. Come, feel the flex," he said moving around me and coaxing the carved grip into my hand. His chest pressed lightly against my back as I gave the string a pull mimicking aiming an arrow. His breath fanned lightly over my scalp, and when he spoke again, I fought not to blush. "You have excellent form. Anyone who opposed you would be doomed from the beginning."

His voice was low and gentle...intimate, in a way. I tried not to think about how luxuriant it would be to hear that soft, raspy voice murmur my name on a cold winter's night when we were curled up in front of a crackling fire.

A familiar shard of guilt wound through me. What would my soulmate, whoever they were, think of me fantasizing about someone else?

Slowly releasing the bowstring, I tried to tamp down my thoughts.

"This will be perfect." Thankfully, my voice betrayed none of my internal conflict, and I was gifted a small, pleased smile as he led me back to his desk. I'd never seen him smile at anyone else. Solemn yet polite, the Ellon before me seemed rather detached from everything in the village save his work, as if he was waiting for something...as if we were a mere respite from a path he must sooner or later traverse.

Fifty years was a long time to wait, but to him, I supposed, it must be a mere blink. Lives like those around him in the village must be barely worthy of his attention.

I'd be forgotten as quickly as wind whispered through the trees.

What must it be like to be significant enough to warrant even half that recognition in the eyes of one as long-lived as he? I heard my father and one of his business associates discussing the topic over mugs of ale one night in the tavern. Each believed he was several hundreds of years old. My father with all his knowledge of Elves had mused aloud after his friend left that he would not be surprised to find that our resident Ellon merchant had accrued over a thousand years of life.

"Scars like that," he'd said, "are the kind one gets in great wars. The last of which was a very long time ago, indeed."

I was inclined to agree, but where others saw a fearsome, intimidating being not to be approached unless necessity demanded it, I'd found a kindred spirit. He might not be outgoing and overly cheerful, but he was kind. His strength was beyond that of a mortal's, yet he could hold freshly-baked bread so gently that his fingers left no impression.

Even as he wrapped my father's new bow, including a few extra neatly-coiled bowstrings, I couldn't help but wonder how many people had judged him so harshly over the years? How many had feared him so severely that nobody even knew his name? It was true that I knew it not, but that came rather from a sense of embarrassment than fear. After all, what is a tactful way of asking a person's name after years of trying to be respectful without prying into his business? Admitting that nobody in the village knew it would only emphasize how different he was...how lonesome and separate he appeared compared to everyone else.

Oh, damn my fears! I was going to ask him, even if it took all my courage. He deserved to be called by his name as was respectful. For the moment, though, I drew my attention back to the present.

"What do I owe you, sir?" I asked as I reached in my satchel for my little drawstring bag of coins. I'd saved up for long weeks. A quality bow like the one he'd shown me could easily cost fifteen gold pieces. Taking on extra work and small tasks outside of the bakery, I'd managed to save seventeen gold pieces and a few silvers - enough for the bow and repairs for my dagger.

As he tied the wrapping with thick twine, he glanced up at me and, with an entirely straight face, muttered "three gold pieces."

I froze. That couldn't be correct!

"Forgive me, sir, I...I believe I misheard you–" I stammered, but he cut me off.

"No, indeed, my lady. You heard correctly." He looked as serene as the morning dew, green eyes giving away nothing.

"B-But, sir, if I paid such a low price, that would be tantamount to theft! I could not possibly abuse you so!"

He lifted an eyebrow at my assertion.

"Have you, or have you not been instructing the baker to take half of the price of my regular order of bread out of your wages for the last seven years, my lady?"

I blinked, and words failed me for a long beat.

"How did you...?" He gave me a knowing look even as my tongue trailed uselessly off into silence.

"Did you think I would not notice that the price I'd been paying for years was cut in half after a mere week of your employment?"

As a matter of fact, I'd hoped he would assume it was a mere coincidence.

"I have been, but–"

"Then, my lady, please allow me this small liberty," he said walking around his desk to stand before me. "You surely have paid for this bow several times over by now."

My cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze, but I persisted.

"I did not do so with the expectation of repayment–"

"Very well, then," he murmured, "two gold pieces."

My lips parted in surprise.

"Sir–" Silencing me with a raised hand, he smirked.

"The more you argue, the lower my price. I believe we are currently at one gold piece. Shall we descend into silvers?" Mischief danced in his eyes, but he was serious in his assertion.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked before I could think better of it.

"Because it pleases me," he said looking at me with a steady, constant expression. "Does one need a reason to be kind?"

I felt as though I'd been struck. I'd asked him the same question less than a month after beginning my job with the baker. He'd remembered! I'd thought it was a trivial sort of question at the time, but I suppose if he'd remembered it, I must've struck a chord within him.

"But I don't even know your name," I stammered in a last ditch effort to convince him I wasn't worth his losing so much money.

"Do you think I am unaware of that fact? I have not told it to anyone in decades. None here know it, yet you are the only one who cares that you do not know." He brushed an errant strand of hair behind my ear with the sort of delicacy that one would not expect a weapons merchant to possess. "You see me. That is why it pleases me to make this easier for you."

It took every ounce of self-control within me not to tilt my head and lean into his touch. His gaze dropped to my lips, and he licked his own - a barely-there flick of his tongue that I would've missed had I blinked but an instant earlier.

"If...you still wish to know my name when you retrieve your dagger in the morning, I shall tell it to you, my lady," he murmured even quieter than before.

"Surely you will allow me to pay the correct price for that, sir?" I asked, and a measure of mirth flickered across his expression as he lowered his hand.

"The correct price for you, my lady, would be absolutely nothing. In that regard, yes, I will be charging you the correct price," he stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "I look forward to seeing you come the morn. You may wish to take your father's gift home before he returns so that it might remain a secret."

Nodding silently, I laid three gold pieces on the desk and picked up the wrapped package. Thanking him, I made for the door, hoping that he would not notice the extra coins - surely he knew I couldn't allow him to undercharge me so severely? Before I'd made it more than two steps, however, one of his arms slid around my waist, stopping me in my tracks like a bar of steel.

"Not so fast, meleth," he breathed against the shell of my ear, and I heard the clinking of two coins as they dropped back into my bag. "A valiant attempt, I must admit. I shall see you on the morrow."

Throughout the long walk home, I could not rid myself of the sensation of his lips brushing against my ear nor his breath slightly stirring the hair upon my scalp. The ghostly memory of his arm catching my waist stayed with me until I fell asleep at nearly midnight.

--

Adar could remember the day her name appeared on his arm more clearly than almost any other - a feat for a being with many thousands of years under his belt. He'd been preparing to open his shop for the day when pain lanced across the inside of his forearm. His scars ached occasionally, but this pain was so sharp and different that he'd nearly dropped the newly-forged sword he was preparing to put on display.

Tugging his sleeve back, there it was: her name written in curling, shaky, yet careful font - the way her handwriting would look. He'd been so amazed that he had been given a soulmate after so long that he'd simply dropped onto a stool and stared at his arm for a time. Before her name appeared, he hadn't even been certain that his heavily scarred skin would allow him to see a name should one choose to appear, but now that he had his answer, he faced a new problem.

Should his soulmate have to face the burden of his existence when he was so twisted and broken? Morgoth's scars marred nearly every inch of his body, his face inspired fear in everyone he encountered, and he'd even failed his children. They'd fallen under Sauron's control again, and as they believed him dead, there was no chance they'd listen to him. They'd sooner believe he was a fraud than their father.

For several years, he'd covered the mark, barely daring to check if it was still there when he washed himself. Eventually though, as the years passed, he noticed that his soulmate would touch her own mark almost compulsively. Perhaps she was nervous and simply attempting to calm herself...

The first few times it happened, he ignored it, believing the gentle touch to be no more than a figment of his imagination, but after a while, he ached with the thought that she might believe that she was not wanted. He began following her caresses with a gentle one of his own. He hoped that it was enough that she would not give in to that fear.

Her existence was a miracle to him, even if she could not read his name. He knew she would be unable to, for the language to which he was accustomed had not been written in many thousands of years.

The day he first saw her, too, was vividly embedded in his mind.

A knock had sounded at the door to his shop. He'd ignored it the first time. The baker's delivery boy - unreliable as he was - typically knocked, leaving his wrapped bread upon the doorstep before scurrying away from his threshold as if it was diseased. Adar assumed that it was he who knocked that morning, so he went on as usual. After a few seconds, however, a second knock sounded, accompanied by a feminine voice.

"Delivery from the baker," came the call though the wooden door. Adar had been so surprised that he laid aside his work and opened the door without any further hesitation.

She was beautiful. The early morning sun illuminated her kind, smiling face in a manner befitting one of the Valar. Expecting her to flee upon her first glance at his face, the Uruk was stunned when her nervous smile widened a fraction.

"Good morning, sir," she chirped happily as she pulled his wrapped loaf of bread from her little basket. "I kept everything well-covered, so it should still be warm from the oven."

Accepting the bundle from her with a quiet, stunned rasp of 'thank you, my lady,' Adar couldn't help but watch as she gave a little curtsy and headed on toward the next shop. The cool, gentle breeze had teased her hair and skirt, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his softest blanket so that she would not feel the chill.

One as radiant and lovely as she did not deserve to live in anything less than the most luxurious sort of comfort. His heart had not stirred like that in...he could not remember the last time it had.

He'd heard someone call her name that afternoon - the same name that was etched indelibly on his forearm - and that had startled him more than anything ever had before. This warm ray of light was his soulmate? What had he done to deserve her? He, who was cracked and broken, scarred and burned...none could ever be worthy of her, most especially not him.

A servant of darkness, one marred and twisted by its shadows, should have nothing to do with such a being of light and joy.

Merely a week later, he'd placed his usual order with the baker, and he'd been asked for half of what he usually owed. At his own prodding confusion, the rotund little Man behind the counter had told him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that someone thought kindly of him. It was not difficult to guess who it was. With all of her smiles and kind words, her unfailingly cheerful greetings whenever she saw him, Adar knew at once that it was her.

She tried to keep it secret, never once bringing up the topic, but he tried to repay her kindness with conversation. He'd been rusty, at first - he still was - but he didn't know how else to show her his gratitude.

Then, one day, he was afforded an opportunity to do so. Traders came through periodically, both seeking and offering wares. Most were well-behaved, exhausted people who wanted no more than to earn a living, but occasionally, there was an outlier among them. A trouble-maker.

One such passed through barely a year hence, and Adar had not liked the way his gaze lingered upon his lady as she made her morning rounds. He watched her too intently and for too long a duration for one with innocent thoughts in mind. No, the Uruk had seen too many over the years with such a glint in their dark, soulless eyes.

When she reached Adar's shop that morning, he'd glared at her evil shadow before gently grasping her hand and suggesting in a low voice that she keep her dagger handy until that particular caravan had left. She'd given him a reassuring smile and pulled the edge of her shawl back just far enough to show him the hilt where it was already strapped at her waist.

He'd never been so proud in all his life, but that didn't stop him from keeping a close eye on her for the rest of the day. None had noticed that his shop was closed with freshly-scattered alfirin seeds before it that afternoon, nor had the filth watching her seen that he was being followed by death's ruined right hand. The trader had followed her halfway back to her home and had begun to catch up with her when a flash of black and silver tugged him silently behind a tree.

The only sound that heralded the scum's death was a snap. She'd turned to look for what had made the noise, believing it to be a branch, and when she found nothing, she made her way safely home.

Her Uruk protector had disposed of the body beside a field where wild horses grazed, laying an empty bottle of spirits beside him. The next morning when the corpse was found, it was obvious to all that he'd gotten drunk, tried to ride one of the beasts, and had been thrown to his death. Adar guarded her door each night until the caravan left. The alfirin seeds had sprouted within mere days, and if any in the village had known their true meaning, the white blooms would have screamed his deed to the world.

But none were the wiser, and his lady was safe. That was all that mattered to him.

Fixing her dagger now was nothing less than a privilege. He'd told her it was easily repaired. In truth, it needed to be reforged. He'd shut his shop for the day and rolled up his sleeves to begin the work.

In the morning, after sharpening the blade's edge, he unlocked his shop door and awaited her arrival. He'd told her that she'd have his name today if she was still interested, but...he was tempted to give her more than that...to show her his mark. His self-indulgent moments when he showed her the bow and when he'd returned her coins had carved themselves upon his heart, stirring within him the desire to hold her again and never let go.

He'd been alone for so long that he now felt like a drowning man each time her eyes met his. She was so close, yet just out of reach. Could she see how much she meant to him? Could she tell that he would save, burn, or change the world entirely at her behest?

The door creaked inward, drawing him out of his thoughts. She was back. He stood straighter as she approached.

"Good morning, my lady." The tentative smile she gave him showed him all that he needed to know. It was time that he told her everything. If she rejected him, well...he'd come to expect pain. It would not surprise him, though, it would be worse than anything he'd yet experienced.

--

"Good morning," I murmured in return. My heart raced in my chest, and I hoped that my voice didn't sound as nervous as I felt. Smoothing my dress a bit further, I approached his desk. "I hope I haven't put you to any trouble."

"Not at all," he answered with a small smile as he lifted my dagger from his desk. "Come, let me show you what I have done."

I did as he asked, moving closer and paying entirely too much attention to the way his large hands dwarfed my little blade. He pulled it carefully from the sheath, showing me his handiwork. He'd polished it, too. The scent floated through the air in a familiar curl.

"Oh, it looks as good as new!" I exclaimed as he handed it carefully to me. The leather grip on the hilt had been replaced and even the balance had improved! "I cannot thank you enough, sir, truly."

"It was my honor, my lady," he said as I passed the blade back. He slid it neatly into its sheath. "Do be cautious. I gave it a quick pass over the whetstone this morning. 'Tis sharper than before."

"Are you sure you won't accept at least some sort of payment?" I asked, and he gave me a mock-stern look. I raised my hands in surrender. "My apologies."

"Gladly accepted."

After a long pause, I finally asked what I'd wanted to.

"May I still ask your name, sir? If your mind has changed, or if you simply do not wish to reveal it, I swear I will not press you on the matter."

He was quiet for a long enough moment that I nearly began pouring forth apologies.

"You are the only one I have wished to tell," he admitted. "You may call me Adar."

Adar. I knew that word from somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Thank you, Adar. I shan't tell a soul without your permission," I promised, and with an appreciative nod, he held out my sheathed dagger.

"Tell me," he rasped, not relinquishing his hold on my weapon quite yet, "why do you keep your forearm covered?"

I gave a nervous laugh, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

"I...My soulmark is there. I can't read it. Never have I encountered a language quite like it...whatever it might be."

He gave a small smile.

"I can read it." Adar's assertion snapped my gaze up to meet his once more.

"Sir?"

"If you would prefer that I not, that is entirely your prerogative, but I can almost guarantee you that I will be able to read it." When I hesitated, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Let me help you, my lady."

Quickly stowing my blade in my bag, I began to unwrap the fabric I kept tied over my arm. As I did so, the need to explain myself pulled a flood of words from me.

"I'm not ashamed of my soulmate, whoever they might be, but after a while, the looks I got when people glimpsed the writing...the pity, the confusion...the explanations became a bit tiresome. Besides, it is nobody's business save me and my soulmate," I murmured as the last bit of the cloth came free and fell away revealing the stark, black marks on my arm. Adar moved just a bit closer, a small smile stretching his lips as he caught my arm gently in his grasp. "Can...? Do you recognize it?"

For a moment, he was silent, only nodding his head in response, but that was enough to send my heart racing in my chest. That was more than anyone had told me about my mark in all my years.

"I have not seen this language written in an Age," he breathed, and after a long moment, his eyes met mine. "I am certain that if you knew the answer, you would regret inquiring about your soulmate's identity."

I couldn't hide my confusion.

"What do you mean? No matter who they are, if the marks are any indication, I can handle it. I have never known them to be wrong," I said, and he looked back down at my arm. "Please. You are the only hope I have of ever being able to read it."

His grip on my arm loosened somewhat, as if he was expecting me to tear myself from his grasp.

"I...have not used this name in thousands of years," he whispered tracing the first half of the dark runes, "but it was still mine. I prefer Adar, now, but...your mark seems to have taken that into account."

My lips parted in surprise, but I was frozen as he traced his fingertips lightly, carefully over the rest of the marks near my wrist.

"Just after that slight separation is the name you would now recognize as mine," he murmured, then he lifted my wrist and placed a kiss onto my mark, reverent and affectionate. The ancient writing tingled and sparked over and beneath my skin, sending a wave of pleasure through me.

He released my arm and tugged back his own sleeve, showing me my scrawled name on his scarred forearm. Carefully, afraid that he'd disappear, that this would turn out to have just been a dream, I touched him just as he'd done.

"For whole Ages, my arm was blank. There were others whose marks were slow to appear, but those whom I knew waited mere centuries. I was convinced that I was not destined for that fate," Adar admitted as I touched the first letter of my name. "I wondered...if I would even be able to read a name should it appear on my skin, or if it would appear as twisted as my scars."

As a tear slipped down my cheek, I kissed his arm as he'd done to mine. The slight gasp that escaped him was like ambrosia for my soul.

"I'm so sorry. You waited for so long, and all you got for your trouble was a mortal with terrible penmanship..." I trailed off with a sniffle, but he tilted my chin up with his free hand and shook his head.

"It is beautiful, because it is yours. It tethered me to you. This mark meant that I was no longer alone." His soft, rasping voice was filled with emotion. "Do not apologize for giving me hope when I'd dared not cling to it for such a long time. I should be begging your forgiveness, my lady. You do not deserve one as unworthy as I."

I shook my head in protest.

"Only I decide what I deserve. If anything, it is I who does not deserve you," I murmured. "You who have lived so many lives...having seen and experienced things I could scarcely imagine..."

I reached up slowly so that he could stop me if he wished, but he made no move to do so. My fingertips brushed his cheeks as lightly as was physically possible.

"I could want no other but you. I have felt guilt for so long. I could not read my mark, but I felt when my soulmate touched his. And yet, I knew that I had lost my heart to you the day we met." My confession felt like the sweetest relief. "If that name had belonged to any other, I would have been distraught."

Adar leaned into my touch, closing his eyes and drawing a slow breath. Twin tears escaped, dripping down his face in an asynchronous race.

"Now that I have you, I cannot give you back, meleth," he warned as he stepped closer and rested his forehead against mine.

"Then, keep me," I whispered, and his lips finally, finally met mine.

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1

[valar-did-me-wrong]

I hope Sam Hazeldine is mentally prepared for the fangirls.

[ohnogovno]

rings of power season 2 light spoilers. x reader fic ideas for the second season of rings of power, these are more concepts than fully fleshed out ideas, please feel free to use!

celebrimbor: you traveled with galadriel and halbrand in S1, you arrive at Eregion injured, celebrimbor is a good friend and is mortified to see you so injured, helps take care of you as the elvish rings are made (and after). also anything with fluff or him being affectionate. maybe you resided in Eregion for a long time before your travels with galadriel and celebrimbor was worried that he had missed his shot with you.

annatar: met you as halbrand, jealous of your closeness to celebrimbor in Eregion, tries to get your attention, maybe tells you stories of Valinor/ the Valar, etc. maybe when he “reveals himself” to you and celebrimbor he heals your wounds to even further prove he is who he says he is.

adar: you were one of the first age elves taken by morgoth/melkor, before you were fully corrupted by morgoth or sauron, adar lets you go (or can’t bring himself to stop you from escaping). you spend time in lindon recovering, eventually travel with galadriel to help her look for sauron (while you look for adar). you reunite in the southlands before Mt. Doom erupts, he keeps you close to him in Mordor.

elrond: you and elrond were not so easily convinced to whole heartedly support the wearing of the elvish rings. he goes to you for comfort (when he was on the run or when he was back in Gil Galad’s trust). maybe he’s in Eregion when you come back injured from Mordor with halbrand and galadriel and he stays with you as you heal. maybe halbrand starts showing too much interest in you while in Eregion and elrond doesn’t like it one bit.

gil galad: (lord is this man tall, and all the close up’s on his hands are doing me no good) literally anything for gil galad. please.

nsfw ideas: you’ve taking a walk in the outskirts of the forest with one of the elves, you stumble upon a flower (s*x pollen).

[annwrites]

no sound but the wind. part one.

— pairing: adar x fem!reader

— type: part of mini-series

— summary: adar finds personal use for you as a slave of a different kind.

— tw: non-con

— word count: 3,212

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr

“And do you swear allegiance to Adar, father of the Uruks?”

You stare ahead at the man he speaks of—if he is even truly a man at all—observing his long, black, silken hair, his gray, sallow skin, the ruined sides of his face where the skin is pulled taught from scarring due to, you presume, fire—his thin lips tightly pursed while he awaits your answer. And it’s then that you notice his pointed ears.

His is an elf. How—how could he let this happen? How can he partake in it? He is meant to be wise and strong, yet gentle and fair. Not…whatever he has instead become.

It does not much matter how he has come upon the path which he now follows. What’s done is done.

All is now lost that once was to you because of it. That you’d most loved. That which had brought you joy and much more.

Like your village, where trees had flowered and bloomed year-round. Those of almond and chestnut, apple and peaches, sour lemons and limes. Some, which ivy grew upon the trunks of, while blossoms were peppered throughout green leaves that dappled the ground below in sunlight, which rays shone through from a clear blue sky above—white, fluffy clouds slowly floating past.

Or lush, soft, green grass which you would lie upon and nap. Clear, cool running water in streams that were always warm in the summer, and crisp in the autumn when those same sticky apples fell into the soil, feeding it until the year next when farmers would tend their fields of potatoes, carrots, pumpkins, lettuce, and strawberries—the various types of crops nearly endless. Mayhaps a few bushes of berries were to be had, as well.

Animals grazed the fields: cows and sheep and goats alike, and chickens would peck about around the settlement while pigs oinked in their pens, lazy cats slept upon windowsills, and pups ran along after smiling, playful children—their adoring parents watching along after them as young couples in love strolled into the small market in the middle of town to purchase goods.

Like spices and cured meats, colorful fabrics and dresses, woven baskets and pillar candles, pots and pans, and shimmering, beautiful glassware, among so much more.

And there would be gatherings in the square quite regularly: dances and festivals, competitions in archery or axe throwing, or quilt-making and pie baking.  Woodworkers and blacksmiths would presents their creations to all for purchase, for the cost of a pretty, shining coin—celebrations abound. Music and delicious foods were to be had, young maidens with flowers in their hair waiting for a kiss as their dresses of chiffon and tulle swayed round their slippered feet.

In the evenings, fireflies would flit through the air like tiny sparks of light while you and your mother would prepare dinner, your father always tending to something. Whether it was in your household’s small stables outside—where horses would quietly whinny as he fed them or brushed them down—or inside, fixing something in the cottage where the three of you lived contentedly.

And you would listen through open windows to crickets and cicadas while you quietly read your parents a story or two from a novel you’d retrieved from upon the mantle your grandfather had designed when the home had been his and your grandmother’s—the books hers—the three of you sitting before a small fire in the main room’s hearth.

And now… Now the once-fertile and emerald hills are unrecognizable. They have been, instead, replaced by black sludge and darkened, smoking ash—the skies overcast and always looking to be on the verge of an ugly storm as these hideous beasts rape the land for all it is worth.

They take and they take, and for what? Perhaps merely just to destroy for the sake of the act.

You will not willingly partake in ruining your beloved homeland. You would rather die and be with them: your family, your friends—forever to live upon those rolling hills once you shut your eyes for the last time.

You raise your chin, ignoring how it trembles when you meet his black, empty eyes.

He does not react. Does not so much as raise a brow in interest as he gazes back at you.

Something shifts behind you, and you steel yourself—refusing to look. You will not tremble in the face of death which calls you home.

And then he raises a hand from where it rests beside him, upon the arm of his make-shift throne—but barely, at that.

“Wait,” he calls quietly.

You hear something settle into the dirt and gravel behind you once more.

He rises slowly, descending step after step in measured moves, until he’s standing before you.

He places an index finger beneath your chin, tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes.

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Comely little thing, aren’t you?” He says softly, his voice monotone.

You keep your mouth shut.

He nods infinitesimally. “Take her to my tent. Ensure she’s watched carefully. I’ve use for this one.”

One of the monsters he commands takes hold of your upper-arm, his other hand coming to tug at the shackles which bind you, pulling you away.

“Kill me!” You finally shout, tears brimming in your eyes.

He turns slightly from where he’s begun ascending his throne once again, looking at you from over his shoulder.

You tug against your restraints, pulling free of the revolting thing that touches you.

“I want to die, so kill me. I’m of no use you to here. I do not know how to…”

You shake your head, grasping for words in your panic. “How to carve wood, or assemble structures, or break apart stone—”

He chuckles lowly, turning round fully, coming back to you.

He slides his rough hand along your soft cheek before cupping the back of your head. He tangles his strong fingers in your hair, yanking your head back by those same strands, causing you to whimper in pain.

“You think I desire you for hard labor?”

You gulp in fear.

“I have far different plans in-mind for you. You will serve me well in other ways. Ones more…”

His eyes trail slowly along your body, before meeting your own once again. “Suited to your feminine form.”

You choke back a sob, realization filling you, along with an unbridled sense of terror.

He releases you again, nodding toward his crony.

You’re taken in-hand once again, and led away—your pleading cries falling upon deaf ears.

Adar’s tent is nothing exceptional—somewhat opposite of what you’ve expected it to be.

His bed is not a cot, surprisingly—certainly large enough to fit two, if not two-and-a-half—and he has a rather cluttered war table, which you’ve been informed, quite firmly, that you are not to touch. So you look at it, instead, from a distance from the wooden chair you’ve been provided.

You see small metal and wooden figurines placed about—construction plans, you assume.

You fail to understand what he could possibly want with the now-destroyed land, but decide you ultimately don’t want to know. You’d rather remember it as it’d once been instead.

You glance to the entrance of his tent, where an Uruk stands guard—the flap pulled back, allowing you a peak outside as the others like him mill about, coming and going and working.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of them. They’re wretched. Cursed. Vile.

You won’t let him touch you.

You’ll do whatever you must to instead give him cause to drive a blade through your beating heart instead. You will not dishonor yourself—not even for the sake of survival.

You will die as you had lived: as yourself.

You’d waited so long for him to come—rehearsing in your head all the ways you might achieve that which you most desire at his hand; but nevertheless of your own causing—you’d fallen asleep.

You jolt awake when heavy footsteps enter the tent, staring in fear as bastardized elves carry inside a large, wooden tub full of steaming water.

They settle it into the middle of the space, retreating just as promptly as they’d come.

And then he steps inside, the once-open curtain flapping closed behind him.

He settles his arms behind his back as he gazes down at you.

He glances to the tub, then back to you. “Bathe. Once you are finished, I shall next.”

He goes to his war table, seating himself heavily, opening a scroll which lies atop it, and he begins reading over the item in his large hand.

You remain seated, too terrified to move.

“I need…privacy,” you say—your voice breaking, tears filling your eyes.

He keeps his back turned to you. “And you have it. Now, do as I bid you.”

You slowly stand, feeling unsure on your feet—your movements hesitant and wavering—as you come closer.

You study the back of his head, nervously flitting your eyes about the table before him, searching desperately for a weapon.

“I would not attempt it.”

You jerk in surprise.

He sets the parchment aside, retrieving a small, sharply pointed figure in the shape of a diamond. “You’d do well to make things easier for yourself. Obey me, and your days will be easy. Don’t—”

You interrupt. “I’ll never give m-myself to you willingly. I’ll—I’ll kill you,” you say, the threat sounding far more like a question than anything else.

You do not see how his lip twitches in mild amusement.

Finally, he sighs, pushing out his chair, standing.

You shuffle backwards, desperate to get away from him—from this place as a whole—from all of the rot and disease that has now claimed this land you’d once called home. Once you’ve backed yourself into a solid pole, which upholds the side of the tent, you stare up at him.

“So you should instead kill me,” you finish.

He softly shakes his head, cupping your cheek gently, brushing his thumb along the apple of it.

“You merely think that you wish for death. I have quite…creative ways to make you obey, until death is so far from your grasp that all you can see ahead of you is more of whatever I’ve been forcing you to endure. Until you break. Until you are ready and willing to do as I please just to make the pain stop.”

He cups your other cheek, holding you firmly in-place.

“I have been here for a very, very long time. Longer than your young mind may ever comprehend. I am not a man who is easily swayed. Nor am I merciful to any others than my children. It is not in my nature. But, for your sake, if you do as I command, I may consider a more gentle touch.”

He releases you. “Time shall tell.”

Your face crumples and you begin to cry, all hope fleeing you of obtaining a different fate than whatever he has in-store for you.

He seats himself once more.

“Now, do as I’ve told you. I will not ask again.”

You tremble violently and feel distant from your body, but you still manage to strip yourself of your soiled, stained gown, letting the heavy material pool at your feet, before ridding yourself of your smallclothes next.

You keep your eyes on him—never removing them—as you step closer to the tub, and then ease yourself into the hot water, sucking in a sharp breath as you seat yourself.

 You grab the small bar of soap you’ve been provided, lathering yourself.

You wish to be finished sooner than late, but also want to take your time—to savor this final moment of something…nice. Because you will do it: find a way tonight to make him take your life.

You’ll not stop until he does.

The two of you remain silent as you cleanse yourself—desperate to get the stench of this new environment from your skin. It is no longer that of fresh air and flowers. It is now that of something pungent and oily.

Death.

That is what it is.

Eventually, you rise, drying yourself with a small towel, and then you glance around in a panic for clean clothes.

Just as you think to dress once again in your previous garments, he gestures toward the small wooden dresser beside the table where he sits.

“You’ll find clean tunics in the second drawer.”

Once you’ve put one on, you take a step back. “What of…trousers, or smallclot—”

“You won’t be needing them any longer,” he replies, rising, the two of you staring at one another as he unbuckles the belt from his waist which holds his sword, setting it atop the previously-occupied table.

You promptly look away, your nose growing warm and eyes stinging as you seat yourself at the foot of the bed, watching as shadows pass by the curtain at the front of the tent.

You tightly grip the blankets beneath you, considering, watching intently.

You hear water lapping, and then a quiet groan as he leans back, enjoying what heat still remains in the water that fills the tub.

“I wouldn’t,” he states in that rasping voice which barely reaches above a whisper.

You bristle.

“You’ll not make it more than a handful of steps before my Uruks return you to this tent. To me. You won’t enjoy what happens to you next.”

He sighs. “Save yourself some pain.”

“Why’re you doing this?” You ask tearfully.

He begins to wash himself, keeping his eyes trained on you. “What is it which you refer to?”

“You’re an elf. You’re supposed to… Meant to be kind. Wise and—”

“You think I value that which I come from?  You think the high elves of this land care any more for your life than they do my Uruks? Pride is their virtue. They see themselves above all else, including men. Because they’ve made it so. They would see us all sequestered away to darkened corners of Middle-Earth if it meant all could be theirs once again.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “You destroyed my home. Took everything from me. And you think I mean to give myself to you? Willingly? To play at being your—your—”

“You will be my concubine. And nothing else. That is your role now. In time…you may come to see matters differently. Come to see me differently.”

“That will never happen,” you whisper.

He rises from the tub—his damp strands dripping at the ends as he shrugs on a clean tunic, padding toward you.

He grips your chin, forcing you to look up as he towers over you. “In time, I believe it will. For your survival, if naught else. Even if you find such a prospect to be of little value to you now.”

He grabs you roughly by the arm then, forcing you to your feet.

Your chest presses against his own as tears slip from your exhausted eyes—your heart pounding like a hammer against cloth at him being so close.

“I’ll give you one final chance, child. Give your body to me willingly, and be given mercy, or don’t, and I will unleash upon you pain unlike any you’ve ever known.”

You make a split-second decision, praying it be your last.

You swing your free arm upwards, swiftly, and slap him as hard as you possibly can.

He barely reacts as he turns his head back in your direction, shaking it lightly.

“Pain it is, then.”

He throws you back onto the bed, swiftly removing his tunic, settling all his muscled weight atop you, weighing you down—forcing you into place as he forces your own garment up and over your head, ignoring your screaming, pleading, panicked protests as you battle against him.

You squirm and pound your fists against his chest, and kick your legs and wail in terror, but he acts as if he does not even notice.

He grips each of your wrists tightly in his hands, holding them above your head while he knocks your legs apart with his knee.

You suddenly still, fervently shaking your head, choking on your own tears as you struggle to draw in even one steady breath.

“Please—Please don’t. I beg of you! Please, not this! Please, please!” You scream shrilly.

“I gave you another way and you refused it. Now, you will learn.”

He plunges inside of you with one forceful buck of his hips and you choke on your own saliva at the excruciating pain which manifests between your thighs. Burning. You feel as if you are on fire where his body now connects with your own.

And he is anything but gentle, just as he had promised you he would be.

He ruts away inside of you, grunting quietly, his skin slapping against yours as his long, throbbing member plunges in and out of you while he searches for his peak against your will.

You stare upwards, at the billowing canopy, desperate for it to end. Desperate to die. To disappear.

This is nightmare from which you will never wake, and you have naught to comfort you from it.

No home.

No family.

No friends.

No warm bed of your very own where you may rest.

No village which is full of joy and safety.

No nothing.

Nothing is left.

Not even that which you’d hoped to one day give to your husband.

He has taken every single thing, and intends to take even more yet still.

You break then—far sooner than expected, than you'd hoped—resigning yourself to letting him have it.

You will instead go away inside yourself, back to the place you most wish to return to.

And you find peace there. In a quiet field where vibrant butterflies flit about, and chimes which hang upon tree branches tinkle gently in the wind.

You close your eyes, humming in contentment as the sun warms your skin, listening as sheep baa at one another close by.

And then you are ripped from the fantasy and forced back inside that claustrophobic tent as he pours himself deeply inside of you, moaning as he takes his final thrusts—pushing his rotten seed further into your core.

Finally, he collapses beside you, heaving for breath.

You do not move. Not an inch.

Hot tears slip silently from the corners of your eyes while he runs out of you elsewhere. Your body begins to gently jerk against your will in shock, and you sniffle and whimper in pain and fear.

After a moment, he rises, washes himself off, then pours for himself a mug of water, downing it quickly.

He pours himself another, leaning back against the dresser across from where you lie.

“It will get easier when you let it,” he states.

He takes another long drink. “It’s been…many years since I’ve had a woman—a maiden, even more-so.”

You refuse to look at his blood-stained member.

He returns to you, seating himself upon the edge of the bed, his leg bent at the knee as he gently grasps your chin, his fingers ghosting along your hot skin.

“As such, I don’t intend to let you go. So, do what you must.”

He sets his mug atop the bedside table, climbing atop you once more.

“I shall do the same,” he states, sheathing himself inside your slick core once again.

[heilith]

Sage Blossoms

Another something for Scribbles and Drabbles 2023, for this stunning piece of art (clicky) by @clumsycopy. This one suddenly grew into a longfic, so yeah...it's just the beginning. Buckle up, have a pleasant ride.

@fall-for-tolkien

Sage Blossoms, Part 1

Miserable and soaking wet.

Half-dressed. And sorely regretful no one was there to hear the cheerful rhythm your teeth were making in vain attempts to meet.

You could do with a laugh.

Or with an embrace.  

The drawbar had always been too heavy for you. You’d never been able to budge it on your own, not with your ludicrous bony hands.

The horses behind the thick oaken door were still raging. You prayed it was not a rat this time. That last incident with a parton’s horse cost the inn twice your yearly wage. You hadn’t had a new piece of cloth on you since.  

The rainwater was meandering down your face, sprouting new and new rivulets. The skin it touched was quickly turning numb.

The smell came first… A strange blend of dead embers and no longer living flesh. For an instant it seemed to you it was oozing from between the doors to the stables.

The thought of fire was far scarier than the thought of rats.

A horse inside let out a high-pitched shriek, making your hair stand on end.

You shrank back and choked on a short outcry at finding yourself locked between a pair of arms, reaching for the drawbar.  

The presence you’d collided with let out a sound, too, a something you could hear coming out of a mouth curled up in self-ridicule.

Strange as it was, it calmed you down.

A dozen years of serving lord and vagabonds had taught you to know a danger at the first syllable it sent in your direction.

The look you ventured at the man did nothing but add to your surmise. If anything, it was his slouching countenance that reassured you completely. That, and his eyes, the best feature on an otherwise unhandsome face.

He was holding your gaze silently, perhaps, waiting for you to be the first to say something.

It was hard to look away, no matter how troublesome a feeling the expression in his eyes was giving you. He knew exactly how much he had scared you, and what measure you had measured him with, and how by now you had no doubts that unsettling smell was coming off him, after all. And he was jeering at you, you could tell it for sure, in a way a wiseman could jeer at a baby trying to read its first word.

“Why you?” said he at last.

His voice had the same ashy quality to it as his whole self, as if his throat was burnt.  

“The grooms won’t return till the morning.”

The question brought you to the reality where your nightgown and the poor excuse of a shawl were still dripping with cold water and the horses were still going insane, shut in four walls with something that had scared them to death.

“I’m sorry, I have to…”

He didn’t let you finish.

The drawbar came out of the slots without a spare hitch. You couldn’t expect him to dispose of it with enough care, but he did, leaning the thing against the jamb in a weirdly habitual manner.

The dark mouth of the doorframe had swallowed him before you could utter a word of protest.

The beasts screamed so loud you jumped back faintheartedly, giving up the intention of following him.  

A century had passed in feverish struggle with yourself. You had to be there, and you had no courage to step over the threshold.

Your senses were strained to the limit that didn’t seem possible.

To your relief, little by little the clamour started dying down. The horses were falling silent one after another. First there were four of them, then two, then the last one sobbed quietly and all you could hear was a monotonous raspy whisper. Eventually it trailed off, too, leaving the rain the only thing to beget any sound at all.

There was a fresh cut on his cheek, when he stepped out into the yard again. In the scant moonlight the streaks of blood looked almost black to you.   

“Go back to bed, child,” dropped he without any feeling, “You do not wish to die in sickness.”

His breath was coming out weary, too weary for you not to put down your guard once more. With the sense you could find no name for you felt that whatever he had done had cost him more than it was worth.  And you deemed yourself guilty for that.

It was a silly move.

An obvious mistake.

The way his whole body convulsed at the touch of your shawl against his cheek made that clearer than daylight. In that brief moment your eyes met his again, there was such fury in them it made you nauseous.  

But you went on with it till you wiped away all the traces of blood and dirt and could be sure the wound was clean at least by the look.   

“Take care of it, please,” you said firmly.

The stables remained unlocked.

But you didn’t even think of it, as you turned away to leave.

[pinkchaosnight]

as i slowly glide my hands across his face, his ethereal face now bearing the marks of my father's cruelty, i couldn't help but shed a tear. i lived all these years, learning everything from my father; his cunning ways, his strategies so that i can protect the people i love in the future; but that didn't even help a smite when it came to him. this beautiful, scarred elf who lays before me unconsciously. how i longed to be brave and not writhe under the wrath of my father when he insisted on torturing him. how i longed for him to runaway with me, far from this wretched and cursed place, that claimed everything from him. and from claiming everything from him, claimed everything of mine too. if only i could have enough backbone to destroy everything that rots him. tears fall over me as i clasp his hand, vowing that i will get him out of here, even if it cost my life.

i was itching to write something for my bbygirl, omg he deserves so much😭 these are some thoughts that came to my mind, reader being morgoth's daughter . might turn into a full fledged fic if there is enough interest (although i doubt if anybody even wants🥹)

[lordofthescrolls]

All Star Wars characters belong to the Star Wars Franchise.

Adar

Oneshots

Utúvië

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away, towards the lands of the enemy.

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞

When orcs cross your lands you choose survival. After that you choose selfish desire which makes for a nice turn of events.

WC: 2.2k

Part one of the Lets make Adar a dad fic

Waldreg was a rat, always had been.

But nowadays, with evil lurking he was making quite the points to assure survival. 

After Bronwyn gave her speech about fighting and Waldreg had countered it with bowing down for survival you had followed him out of the gates of Ostirith, and during the night, bowed down before your enemy.

Before you, Waldreg made a speech of loyalty but was ignored by the orcs' leader.

Ignored until he had called him Sauron. 

You watched Waldreg be grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground, still offering loyalty to whoever the man before you all might be.

Again he was ignored, as the man took Rowan who stood right before you and was dragged to face the crowd, forced to kneel as the orc leader tossed a dagger at Waldreg's chest. Finally speaking.

"Only blood can bind." 

Before your eyes, in the torch lit town you watched as Waldreg did as instructed, and killed your friend to pledge his loyalty.

Next thing you knew you were following along with orders, listening to Adar give his speech to the Uruks he called his childen. Abd then trying to hide from your now enemies, praying the Uruks recognised you as their ally.

Only the Uruks weren't the biggest of your worries as another troop came in on horseback to aid the oposing forces.

So you hid with the remainder of the troop that managed to escape. You hid in the woods until the ground shook and fire rained from the sky and by the time the enemy fled you were back with Adar and the others and the start of building a new home was done.

The Southlands were no longer, from now on you were citizens of Mordor.

Scouts were sent off and remaining troops arrived with all belongings, ready to build.

But first it was time for celebration.

Uruks howled and feasted on fallen soldiers, even offering you some meat but you politely declined. 

Instead you found the other humans, all getting drunk off whatever survived the onslaught. So you moved on from them too, not feeling like drinking after all that happened. Your last stop was somewhere off at the edge of the town's remains where you stared at the smouldering ashes and low dancing flames on the edge of dying out.

That too didn't bring your mind peace and quiet, so you moved on again. Wandering around until you almost ran into someone after turning a corner. 

"Not of the celebrating kind, child?" Adar himself stood before you, two mugs in hand. He offered one to you as he went to sit on some fallen support beams.

"I'm not really one for getting drunk or feasting on my enemies' flesh, no." You joined his side and sat down. "Don't take me wrong, I am glad your Uruks have a home now." Your words ended with a smile, buried behind the drink. It was bad how you wanted to stare at the man for as long as you could. You had wanted it since you first watched him throw Wardreg and had Rowan killed. No one should look that good doing all of that.

"You know your eyes speak enough. No need to hide, I can read you." His gloved hand raised to lower your mug.

"This is good, what is it?" You tried your best to change the topic of conversation with a genuine question.

"A simple Uruk made red wine the last group brought in. Is it that different from what you served here?" He gestured to the tavern that you sat behind and looked at you with a curious look. 

"It's so nice and warm." It brought you comfort so you sipped away at it, the nerves of everything happening today finally leaving you. "So strange, it's so much nicer than ours." 

This time it was Adar changing the topic again. "Shall we go join the others? Surely you'd warm up to my children quicker that way." His offer was a kind one, filled with elven charm he still possesed even after becoming what he was now. 

"I think I prefer the less chaotic energy here, in all honesty. Being able to talk and drink wine, it's nice." 

And it was nice, even Adar agreed. Now that he and his children had a home there was no need for endless planning and strategizing to keep him busy anymore. 

"I admit, you are right. Having a quiet conversation just for the pleasure of it is something I have not done in a long while." He watched you place your mug down, impressed with how quickly you had downed the wine for a mere mortal who claimed not caring about getting drunk. 

You placed the mug down and thanked the wine for silencing the voice in your head as you sat straight up and murmured something. Adar didn't catch what it was, and questioned you about it.

"I said," With a swift move you flung your leg over his lap and straddled him. "There is probably other things that you have not done for pleasure in a very long time." 

Adar followed your quick movements with ease, hus gloved hand ending on your hip. Metal digging into your skin to steady you as his other hand came up to rest at your jaw.

Your actions intrigued him. "You assume right." His gloved hand sqeezed a bit harder, making you squirm in his lap as the sharp edges pressed deeper against your bones. "Now, what did you have in mind now that you have sat yourself so selfishly onto my lap?" He wasn't actively moving you off him so you took your chances to move along, inching closer to his face and pressing a swift peck to his jawline before nuzzling his neck. 

You only got a confused grunt in response, which had you decide to think more as an Uruk, and bite down on his flesh and grind your hips against his. It earned you a low growl and a sharp pull of your hair that disconnected your lips from his throat. 

"You wish to be rough, little mortal?" His gaze changed into an amused grin, taking your hip and shoulder in hand as he manouvered you onto your back, legs still over his as he moved himself atop of you. 

His legs on either side of the fallen structure with your hips pulled up against his, a sharp metal hand pressing into the soft plump of your cheeks prying open your jaw to push a finger past your lips. 

His ungloved hand went to find the ends of your garment and tear it off your lower half, exposing you to the night air while you struggled to move against the iron grasp on your jaw and the metal digging into your tongue.

"How good of you, to wet your master's fingers for him.." His lips barely an inch from your ear, returning the act of biting down on your earlobe with a soft growl and licking the sensitive flesh. 

You mewled as his gloved hand left your face, sharp fingertips dragging down over your clothed torso as he sat back up, untill it reached bare skin. You gasped as he continued south, two fingers moving just off your centre, pulling a soft plea from you. "P.. please, no.."

 He watched in amusement as he pressed the flats of his fingers against your mound, just the leather of his glove on your skin. He drank in the fear that mixed with your arousal, adding to his own fire and exposing you further, leaving your body bare to see for anyone who'd wander past.

You could feel his hard length press against you as he rutted his hips against you, his hands toying with your chest making you moan out in pleasure. 

He groaned in return, moving to undo his trousers and free his cock, wetting it with your slick. 

"It's been long since I have felt this warmth." He breathed out, postitioning his tip at your entrance. You whined with every inch of his length stretching you open, wrapping your legs around his waist as best as you could. The sounds of the Uruks ans men partying drowned out more with each roll of Adar's hips, forcing a moaned breath out of you each time. 

He stilled as he bottomed out, hips slotted with yours in a near perfect matter. Leaning forward on his hands his hair framed his face, lust blown eyes staring deep into yours. There was a slight pant in his breath. "I will keep you." His gloved hand moved to your chest, metal fingers toying with your nipple making you whine out. "Y.. yes Lord Father.." Pain and pleasure mixed in the best way. "You are mine to seek pleasure with howevever I wish." 

Your hands moves to clas at his thighs in an attempt to make him move. "My body belongs to you, Lord Father." 

Your words spurred him on and with a hand on your hip he started moving, cock leaving you almost fully before thrusting back in and setting a steady pace. 

Cries of pleasure filled the ashen air, groans and pleased grunts joining the choir behind the tavern. "L..lord Father.. Adar.." Your voice was barely abouve a whisper. " your hand found his hair, fingers scratching his scalp. "Plant your seed.. Use me to continue your bloodline." 

His thrusts became more harsh, forcing a gasp from you each time his hips came in contact with yours. "Would you.. truly give up your body.. like that?" He panted between breaths, he hadn't bred in Ages, not feeling the need to produce more offspring. The concept of having a family of his own beside his Uruk children was foreign to him. 

"Please.." You pulled him in closer with your heels pressed into his back, moaning as his cock hit just right inside you.

"Make me a mother." 

Adar's hips stilled entirely as he looked down on you, a grin spread wide on his faceas he lifted his gloved hand and brought a fingertip down below your chest hard enough to break skin. You could not see what he did, only feel the carving of flesh obscured by the plump of your breast.

He did not speak, nor try to show you. Instead resumed his rough pace as if nothing had happened.

"You will bear my children, yes? For as long as I please. Until your body is no longer fit to carry offspring." His raspy voice was right at your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin on your neck as he bred you. 

"Ahh..Adar.. hah.." Your moans increased the closer you got to the edge. They were music to Adar's ears.

Not like the animalistic howls and roars of thr Uruks he had gotten so accustomed to. No, your sounds were addicting. 

Your hand found his ungloved one, guiding it between your legs to press two fingers down on your clit, silently begging him to pull you over the edge. On contact you cried out, pleading over and over until the coil snapped and you came, walls clamping down on his cock in extacy.

With no chance to catch your breath your cries turned into begging for rest, a moment to come down but instead Adar kept playing with your clit, fucking into you at the perfect angle that hit every right spot inside of you. The display amused him, filing it all away for if he ever found himself alone and in need of relief.

Before you he panted, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. His tongue rolled out past his smiling lips, a string of drool lowering and disconnecting from the tip of his tongue, dripping down right above your core. His already slick fingers gathered it and spread it all over where his cock disappeared into your folds. 

It reminded you that you weren't producing a child with an elf. You were being bred by an Uruk. 

Adar's growls and sighs got more frequent along with his thrusts becoming less rythmic. He was as close as you were again.

His hinistrations continued, fingers dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock stroked thr spot that had you see stars from the inside. 

You threw your head back with one last gut wrenching moan, squeezing your walls around his cock once more and pulling him over the edge with you. With a low growled moan he spilled deep within your womb, stilling to catch his breath.

As he tucked himself back into his trousers he watched your close to unconsious form, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

In your current state you could no longer register the Uruks that had gathered because of the noise, watching their Adar who mated with one of the new women. 

He was unsure how long they had been there or how much they saw, but from the howls and cheers he figured they had seen enough. 

With a glare in their direction, Adar sent away his children and covered your bare skin to the best of his abilities. You needed a new set of clothes. 

With you wrapped in his arms he set off to find a place for you to sleep while he sent others on a hunt for clothes. 

[eowyn7023]

Ancient Script

By MyShamefulLove aka @elronds-meleth-nin

Summary: Adar has waited thousands of years for his soulmate, thinking he would never have one. When the name appeared on his arm, he knew she would be more than he could ever deserve. Then he met her, and he fell irrevocably under her spell.

Set in the Third Age, after Sauron separated Adar from his Uruk children for so many generations that they no longer remember him. Highly recommended!

[amfilth]

Simping so hard over this edit OMGGGGG

[annwrites]

no sound but the wind. part four.

— pairing: adar x fem!reader

— type: part of a mini-series

— summary: adar presents you with a gift in return for the many you've given him.

— tw: stockholm syndrome

— word count: 554

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr

— a/n: i think this is the end of my lil adar mini-series. i guess only time will tell, but, nevertheless, thank you for reading!

It is midday when he returns to your shared tent. You stand, instinct overtaking you as you step toward the bed, until he shakes his head, pulling a small package out from where he hides it behind his back.

Silently, he hands it to you—the brown paper crinkling in your hands as you stare up at him.

He nods to it. "Open it."

You tug at the twine which binds it closed, setting it atop the dining table as you push back the wrapping, and you gasp quietly.

He rests a large, steady palm against the small of your back, watching you. "Do you like it?"

Gently—terrified that if your touches are not measured absolutely, you may risk tarnishing it—you lift a gleaming silver hairbrush, cradling it between your palms.

You nod slowly, tears stinging your eyes. "It's lovely."

"Not near as much as you," he replies, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, the back of his forefinger brushing along your soft cheek.

"Turn it over."

You do, and your eyes widen when a small, polished looking glass is revealed to you.

You turn, gazing up at him, tears shimmering in your wide eyes.

"Thank you."

He slides a hand along your stomach, smiling softly. "There is more to come for what you will give me. Such a gift deserves many in return, my love."

You nod, looking back to your new gift with a smile of your own.

Your womb is heavy with child when you decide—for the first time in all your many moons of residing here—to emerge from your makeshift cage.

And it is without being followed.

Nor does he bind your wrists any longer when you sleep.

He knows there is nowhere else you would now rather be.

He trusts you implicitly.

Knows that he holds your tender, mortal heart in the callused palms of his ancient hands.

You are unsure when you bestowed your love upon him. Perhaps it was the first time your eyes met, the first time he touched you, the first time he buried himself inside of you—literal or otherwise.

Perhaps it was the first time you wanted for him.

Even if you now wonder if that has not been always.

Or the night when he told you of his origin, and you wept in his arms before uttering those words he has so long yearned to hear, even if he will never admit it out of fear of being perceived as weak—as he once was upon that mountaintop: I love you.

He has strived to repay the sentiment tenfold in each way he knows how—is capable of.

He rises from his throne, coming to you in measured strides, cupping your face between his hands once he has reached you.

"Are you well, my girl?"

He slides a hand along the swell of your stomach—a crudely made ring of brass glinting on his finger; one which matches your own. "Our child?"

You nod with a soft smile, resting your hand atop his. "We are."

He gives you his arm then, leading you through camp, and much to your surprise, his orcs bow their heads to you in reverence.

They greet he as 'father', and you...as 'mother'.

And in that moment you know, you are home.

[tamariasykes-art]

Adar Headcanons Part 2/?:

A mixed bag, but the primary focus is on affection/ being affectionate. Reader mentioned here is gender neutral as usual.

His love language are physical touch or acts of service. He is not the type to be overly affectionate, but he will show someone how much he cherishes them through little gestures. A soft kiss on your temple, a gentle embrace whenever you feel upset or stressed.

He is very attuned to the needs to people around him and does everything to make sure they are taken care off. Then, he will look after himself. He gives a lot, without asking for much in return.

He wouldn’t feel comfortable with the thought of asking for more of your love or time and merely accepts how much or how little you give him. Even if he treasures every little act of love from you, there will always be a bit of reservation on his part, because he knows that good things can be gone as quickly as they arrive.

When you do spoil him with attention, he practically melts under your touch. You can feel his breath slow down, his eyes become heavy and he will fall silent. He was not aware how much he missed the presence of another person in his life.

And if it is possible, he likes you to be by his side as often as you can. There is no need for words or gestures, if you sit next to him while he watches some of the wargs play fighting with each other.

If you begin to grown closer, he will ask you for permission to touch or hold you. Your comfort and boundaries are very important to him and he would never want to upset or hurt you.

Once you are in a relationship with him and live together, he will start to rest more. He might not sleep every time, but it calms him immensely when he you lay next or on top of him with your face buried in the crook of his neck.

He loves all his children the same, but how affectionate he is with each of them depends on their bond and on their age. He tends to dote on the younger uruks, but is also quick to reprimand them when they are acting thoughtless.

On his mind are often the elders and the weaker members of his family. He spends a lot of time with them, tending to any ailment they may have, offering a helping in hand or exchanging stories of days gone by. 

If one of his children needs him, he will make time for them. If they feel the need to get something of their chest or if they are just in need of his company, he will be there.

A way uruks comfort one another or express their love is by pressing their foreheads together.

[jetiisyandereclones]

Adar x reader

Alright, The Rings of Power fic that absolutely no one asked for, because the interrogation of Adar had me in a death grip.

Spoilers under the cut.

Warnings:

POTENTIAL SPOILERS

Adar x (f)reader

(F)Reader insert, MC (main character)

(F)Character of no description

Smut (semi public)

Nudity

Mentions of blood and injury

Manipulation

This works on the theory that Adar is Maglor, second son of Feanor, with my own idea that he was alive during the Quest to Erebor, meeting reader in the Misty Mountains after she was separated from the company

After its revealed he’s an escaped prisoner that the Elves had been hunting for years, MC goes to him. She refuses to believe what he’s done for her. All the times he’s helped her and saved her had been a lie. A manipulation.

She couldn’t believe that.

—————————————————————————————————————————

The Uruk looks up at her. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Not unusual.

Strangely, he always looks like he’s about to cry. No matter what his emotions may be. But this time he looked much closer to crying than normal.

Mc eyed the black blood drying and flaking on the side of his head. It was from the blow the wizard dealt him when he tried to run. MC kept her eyes on the wound, staunchly refusing to look him in the eye. Another one he wouldn’t have if not for her.

She had been in pursuit when her borrowed horse hit a root and fell, breaking his neck from the fall, trapping her beneath him. Adar had stopped, looking towards the caves before turning back. Prying the horse off of her.

Amazingly, she had avoided injury, and was looking over her. Trying to pull her up. Pick her up.

MC knew she couldn’t do this. He was her friend, she thought.

She couldn’t be the one to stop him, to imprison him. shes far too attached to see him in chains on her account.

“Go. Just, please go. I won’t stop you. But they will!”

Adar looked over her, watching the horizon as he heard howling and hoof beats in the distance, coming ever closer.

“No. I followed you here. I will not give you up now.”

MC squirmed in his arms, trying to fight against his strengthening grip on her body.

“Are you mad?! They’ll kill you!”

Adar was about to retort when he was struck with what looked like a bolt of lightning. Knocking him out and opening a large gash on his temple. Gandalf had been in closer pursuit than he had thought.

Adar fell to the ground, his body crushing MC below him, knocking the breath out of her.

After that day, he was shackled in a tent outside of camp. They had dragged him back and left him there to bleed and starve while they tried to contact the Lady Galadriel.

He had been her prisoner for years and years before he escaped. And by all accounts she was eager to have him in her cells once again.

MC was left to deal with her own conflict. She needed to see him. Talk to him, against everyone’s wishes, especially Thorin’s.

But MC payed them no mind, she had her own quest to find answers, and she would complete it.

Taking a bucket of hot water and a clean rag, along with some antiseptic soap, she made her way to her supposed ‘friends’ cell, entering without so much as a warning, but he showed no shock, if anything, he seemed to relax a little in her presence.

Looking up at her, at the soap in her hands as she put down the bucket, kneeling next to him.

Adar chuckled wryly.

“How hospitable of my enemies to allow me the materials to bath. They are most generous captors indeed.”

MC’s face warmed a little at his speculation.

“Those enemies are my people, my friends and allies. Family even. By association that makes me your enemy too.”

Adar tilted his head back and to the side, a brow arched slightly and a small smirk twisting his features.

“Narrow mindedness is unbecoming of you, Sunlight.”

MC wrung her wash cloth out with a little extra aggression, agitated at the Uruk’s apparent lack of care, even amusement at his predicament, at her.

“Lies and deceit don’t suit you. Besides, they didn’t want me to come here. Unsurprisingly The King and The Elves would much rather see you die from infection. There are guards outside to, in Thorin’s words, ensure I'm not damaged while wasting supplies.”

Adar hummed. His distaste for her company apparent, as it always had been from the start.

“And these are the ones you call allies, friends and family? You are far too giving in your good will. And in any case, how did you procure the supplies if I was forbade from their use? Did the good girl steal them on my own account? I’m flattered.”

MC curled her lip at his mocking, stinging words.

She was well aware that she was seen as being ‘too soft hearted’ for the quest, an image she had done everything to prove wrong. Not that it mattered now, Adar had successfully undone any progress she had made to try and prove herself worthy of ‘The King under the Mountain’s Company.

“You have no right to condemn my ‘good will’ not as the current main receiver of it. Keep in mind it is my ‘Good will’ that keeps you alive right now. And for your information, the supplies are my own. He can’t dictate how I use my own property.”

MC carefully dabs the lathered up cloth against the mans head a little too roughly to be a mistake, expecting him to hiss at the contact. He doesn't blink, staring at her with what she would almost call affection.

“Thank you.” Adar whispered softly, sensing MC’s agitation.

“Huh?” MC questioned, having distracted herself from the conversation by cleaning his head wound.

Adar looked at her, his eyes seemingly sincere.

“I know your will has kept me fed and sheltered these past months. And I am grateful.”

MC nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead she decided to focus on his head wound, the black blood had long stopped and all that was left was to clean his face.

A few minutes passed, MC had moved on from his wound, cleansing his entire face. Adar couldn’t suppress a shiver at the gentle attention she showed his lips.

But it wasn’t meant to last and finally, MC broke the silence.

“Why are you doing this?”

Adar shrugged slightly, rattling chains emphasising the small movement.

“It’s been an age since someone cared for me like this. It feels nice”

MC narrowed her eyes, not in the mood for the Uruk’s games.

“No, Not that. Why are you still here. You could have escaped into the mountains, but you chose to help me.”

“I recall a vow made to ensure no harm came to you. Had I left you there, you would have been devoured by wolves before the wizard could find you.”

MC looked down at the bloodied rag in her hands.

“I wasn’t aware you took your vows so seriously.”

Adar looked sharply at her.

“There’s not much I can still claim to have, but for you, I could discover the last bit of honour in my heart. For you, I will always keep my word.”

MC didn’t say anything, the sheer sincerity and intensity forming a pit if anxiety in her stomach.

Rising the rag of the rancid blood, she looked down at the slightly brown water, then eyed the rest of Adar. Standing up MC went to the entrance of the tent, calling for another 3 buckets from the pot she had boiled at her own campsite

The guards, reluctant and begrudging as they were, agreed to it.

Adar tilted his head at the younger woman.

MC looked back at Adar, noticing his quizzical expression.

“You’re filthy. Do you want me to leave? I can leave the soap if you-”

Adars hand shot out. Making MC jump at his grip.

Slowly he brought her hand up to his shirt, his armour long stripped from his body. The Uruk pressed MC’s hand over his heart. He felt warm under her palm.

“Stay, please.”

MC nodded, throat dry. She took her slightly shaking hand away to slide a bag around to his side. He hadn’t even noticed she had it.

Adar gestured to the bag

“What’s in that?”

MC looked down at where Adar was staring.

“A gift from an old friend of yours. Apparently from before your days as an orc.”

Adar froze, his only movement was the flutter of his eyelids as he looked up and into empty space, mind 1000 miles away.

“Elrond…” He whispered, his eye twitching a little.

MC nodded.

The emotional storm behind Adar’s eyes broke slightly. A single tear slid down his face and she didn’t know if he was angry, sad, jealous, or elated.

She could only describe his expressions the mounting emotions of a thousand years of loneliness and longing.

MC quickly wiped the tear away as the guard came back with the water.

She told the guard him and the others they could go. There was no danger here for her. They hesitated, but eventually complied, having no desire to remain in the corrupted elf’s stench.

Once they were gone, Adar confirming they were back at camp, MC slowly started to cleanse his head and upper torso, starting with his greasy hair, massaging the scalp and loosely tying it up so it didn’t get in the way.

She swore she heard him purr as she rubbed behind his ear. Then working her way down his neck she hit his shoulders, blocked from view by his shirt.

MC couldn’t get it off. Not with his chains. So instead she reached into her skirt, procuring a small dagger. She held it up to the light, showing him the gleaming blade, allowing him to keep it in his sights.

“I'm just going to cut that shirt off okay. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Her face was burning with the implications of her words. MC knew for a fact they were not lost on Adar either, if his sighed laugh was anything to go by.

“Oh sunlight. My body is yours to do what you want with.”

MC nearly choked at this. Both the words, and the fact he seemed so genuine. Even going so far as to lean back, his head tilted to rest against the pole he was tied to, his neck open to her. Completely vulnerable as he closed his eyes to enjoy the woman’s hands working over him

Adar felt the tell tale coldness of steel against his skin,, heard the tear of his filthy undershirt being cut, then the tug of the woman tearing it off. However it took longer to get the shirt off than she thought.

The material was old, but thick and sturdy. It did not tear easy. But MC was determined to have him bare chested.

After several minutes of cutting and ripping in the wrong places, his Sunlight finally managed to get the shirt, Which was now reduced to ribbons, off of him.

She was panting a little from the effort and Adar couldn’t help but smirk a little. He could have told her where to cut, or even offered to rip his shirt off himself.

But what fun was that?

Trying to get her breathing under control, MC went to get her rag, dipping it in the dirty, but still usable water.

She’d get rid of most of the grime with the dirtied water, before cleaning him fully with the cooling clean water.

MC soaped up the rag, and approached the man. She truly did think of him as a friend, but she had to admit.

He stank.

The smell of the road, sweat, blood and orc all over him. Kneeling in front of his pallid, scarred, but still very strong chest, MC decided it was safest to work on his arms first.

Somewhere neutral.

Or so she thought.

He was grabby. Flirty even.

Whenever she brought the soapy rag close to his hand, he'd grab at her, entwining their fingers only fro her to have to untangle herself from him to move on.

His affections did not dim as she moved to his neck and chest.

She stuttered a little when it came to cleaning his chest. The intimacy spooking her, but swallowed and continued on.

If he was displeased by her contact, he wasn’t showing it, preferring instead to just watch her, a hand resting on the floor next to her thigh.

Sometimes he flexed and stretched his fingers, to whatever memory had captured his mind and occasionally, she felt them brush against the skirt of her dress.

Despite the fact that she had him shirtless before her, his chest out on full display, these light touches made her breath catch more than the sight of his broad shoulders.

And if she didn’t know better, shed say he was doing it on purpose, reaching for her through the haze of his daydreams.

Eventually she was done with his chest and back, a massage having coaxed sweet whines and moans from him. The kinds of which she hadn’t heard a man produce before.

The ones she had gotten so close with had been guarded, too concerned with appearing in control that they hadn’t allowed themselves to enjoy her own touches.

An issue that doesn’t seem to effect the man in front of her.

Moving out from behind his back and gently laying him back to lean against the pole, she was faced with another issue...

What was she going to do with his lower body? She couldn’t possibly just undress him fully...

Could she?

Adar noticed the woman’s dilemma and decided to put her out of her misery.

“You may remove them.”

MC snapped her face up to his.

“Huh?”

“I am giving you permission to undress me, lay me bare and Finnish your mission of cleaning me.”

MC swallowed hard, her face warming at an alarming rate.

“Uh, all of you?”

She really didn’t want to gesture down at the bulge between his legs, but it wasn’t needed. He knew what she was getting at.

“All of me, my Sunlight. Do not worry. I will make no advances towards you…”

“Even so, wouldn’t it be better if I left you to clean yourself up for this part?”

Adar laughed.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You're hands are much more pleasurable than mine.”

MC giggled nervously. Trembling hands reached for the strings of his pants, pulling them loose.

Mc looked straight down at Adar’s thighs as she pulled his pants off, him helpfully raising his hips. Absolutely no shame to be found.

MC silently huffed.

She guessed if she lived that long shed probably give no fucks either.

But still. It didn’t escape his notice that she was NOT looking up from her task. The rhythmic and soothing sound or the rag getting dipped in the water bucket and lathered up the only sound breaking the deafening silence.

Adars legs twitched as she ran the rag up his thigh. Cleaning his inner leg before veering off towards his hip bone...

Adar had to smirk at the scene before him.

Without knowing it, she was managing to give him the best tease he’s had in a long, LONG time.

But still, he decided it was time to move this game forward.

“I think my legs are clean enough. Don’t you?”

MC froze.

She had deliberately been avoiding the area between his legs, hoping he’d take over for her.

Not because she didn’t want to touch and care and feel him in his most vulnerable state.

But because she did.

However now he had cornered her.

Adar leaned forward towards MC.

“Don’t be shy. I vow I mean you no harm Sunlight”

Mc hesitated, rinsing the rag before going for one of the clean buckets.

She supposed this area would he more delicate, and would require completely clean water.

Adar watched in amusement.

She was so flighty. So obvious.

He could smell her want from across the camp, the poor thing.

She had been needing for a long time.

However. Determined to save some face, she bravely ignored her own needs, and if he was right, her own heart.

No mind. He’d show her soon.

For now, he would have mercy and guide her.

Adar took the cloth from her hand and left it to the side, taking the soap and putting it into her hands.

At her shocked look of realisation he again tilted his head.

“The material is too rough, sweet one. You may use your hands. Like this.”

Adar took her smaller, soapy hand in his. He wrapped it around his proud, leaking cock gently and guided her hand up and down, taking her free hand to clean down the base of his shaft and his balls.

She must've had some experience cause muscle memory kicked in. And she started gently massaging without his direction.

Adar sighed, his head leaning back as she stroked him.

But soon enough she had deemed him clean, scooping water with her hands in order to rinse off the delicate and sensitive flesh of his manhood.

They were almost done, mc directing him to kneel up, grant her access to the back of his thighs.

He swore she took great pleasure in lathering him up, an ass woman, he supposed.

He also noticed her increasingly bleary eyed expression, the way her face leant against his thigh. Rubbing closer and closer to his cock as her clever little fingers worked their way in between his leg and up towards the base of his spine, dragging soapy water behind them as a thin disguise to her true wants.

Finally, MC’s face was where he had dreamed of it being for so long, lovingly pressed against him, soft lips brushing maddeningly against his shaft, her fingers playing around his ass before moving to squeeze at him, digging her fingers into his skin.

Adar wanted nothing more than to let her have her fill of him, but their first time would not end in him emptying down her throat.

So reluctantly, almost painfully he bid her to back off, stand.

MC whined at the loss of contact before blinking, her eyes widening at what she had almost done.

The woman scrambled away, babbling apologies but Adar would hear None of them.

He grabbed her, snagging her by her cloak, and pulled her to him.

Holding her in a tight embrace he took her face in his hands, crouching down so he was eye to eye with her, hoping that she saw nothing but his adoration.

His devotion.

Gently, he placed a kiss on her forehead then spoke.

“I think, it might be getting too cold to be in this state. Would you mind rinsing me, then helping me redress?”

MC nodded silently, grabbing another bucket.

Looking him over she decided how to do this.

“Can you stand, tip the bucket over yourself?”

Adar nodded as he stood up, the chains keeping him close to the pole with the added height

Somehow being naked only made him seem bigger and more imposing to his human audience.

MC couldn’t say he was perfectly sinewy and lean like the other elves shed seen.

Adar was older. He’d seen more punishment and pain.

Victories and failures painted his sickly pale skin, in areas his flesh seemed to hang off his bones from lack of eating.

But all of these facts MC didn’t see. To her, he was as strong as stone and unstoppable as a raging river. The scares over his body carving their way over his body like the carvings on his armour, almost hypnotising.

A grotesque work of art.

MC watched as she passed Adar the bucket, admiring the shift and flex of his body as he raised it above his head, emptying the water over himself and sighing as he felt truly clean for the first time in the longest time.

Mc broke herself out of her trance, her gaze shifting to the small sack of clothes.

Rifling through it, she found a small, lightweight towel and threw it to Adar, smiling as it hit his face.

MC then picked up his clothes and handed them to him.

“I didnt know you could take an elf by surprise.”

Adar hummed in amusement.

“My lady your attack was cowardly and underhanded.”

MC handed him his pants.

“I'm sure the shame will follow me to my grave. Here.”

Adar looked at the clothing. Eyes far before finally taking them from her.

“These are mine...”

“what was that?”

“These. They are mine. From...so long ago. He kept them all these years. Elrond.”

MC looked at the way Adar brushed his thumb over the soft material in his hands.

“He didn’t tell me what your history was...”

“That’s best left in the past. For now at least. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Adar fastened his pants. Soft and worn in perfectly to him, despite the twisted years reflected on his body.

Mc handed him his shirt.

“What is it the time for then?”

Adar awkwardly wrestled with the shirt, trying to find a way to put it on despite the chains. Eventually simply feeding the thin cloth under his shackles.

“I believe I owe you an explanation. Come, sit.

I was in those caves a long time. Inconceivably long, for someone of your kind. I had forgotten what warmth felt like.

But then you appeared. But it had not been the first time in saw your face.”

MC’s brow scrunched. She KNOWS she had never met adar before.

“Has anyone ever told you elves were prone to prosthetic dreams?

Visions of an ever changing future. As shifting as sand.

Well. I have had one dream. Ever since I was imprisoned by the lady of Lothlorian.

It sent me to those caves. Kept me there until that day came around.”

The sinking feeling returned to MC’s stomach,

“What was the dream?”

Adar swallowed.

“You. I saw you. Us together. Bound by blood and rope and steel.

I waited for 1000 years for you and then suddenly, there you were.

Why, do I keep following you, only to be chained once again for it?

Because you kept me prisoner. All those years in the dark I waited Sunlight. Waited and waited and waited. And then you were there. You held the key to my prison and thought you could just run off with it?

I don’t know why the Valar sent me those visions but they never changed. As steadfast a comfort as they were an unrelenting torment.

But you're here, with me now. And I wish to keep it that way, come hell or high tide.

You were sent to me for a reason. The gods made you for me.

As my doom or my saving grace, we will have to wait to find out. If you'll have me.”

MC was frozen. Whatever she was expecting, it had not been that.

“Adar....”

Adar closed in, his nose bumping against hers gently.

“Maglor. My name is Maglor.”

MC leaned in, bringing her lips so close to his.

“Maglor, kiss me?”

Maglor closed the gap, sealing their lips together. MC moaned into the kiss, only getting louder as they split apart.

Maglor nipped at her bottom lip in reprimand.

“Hush, Sunlight. Do not let them hear.”

MC went to nip back at Maglor’s lips but he pulled back.

“Sunlight, do you want this. If you say yes. I will not stop. Ever.

Elves bond for life, where you go, I will be. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I will have you, Maglor. Uruk or elf, I will have you.”

Maglor groaned almost imperceptibly as he kissed his Sunlight, enjoying the intoxicating warmth of her lips.

MC’s hands fumbled at the draw string of Maglor’s pants, frustrated that she couldn’t get them undone.

Maglor chuckled.

“Peace, my love. Let me do this, you get comfortable.”

MC straddled his lap, facing the man as she went to pull off her dress, fully ready to bare herself to the elf in front of her but he stopped her.

“There is nothing I wish for more than the two of us to he able to love under the sky, naked to the gods with nothing to hide, but I fear this time we shall have to be cautious. Our enemies are listening. Waiting. And you are for my eyes only. The dress stays on.”

MC groaned, but cooperated. His words held truth.

Finally, FINALLY Maglor had freed himself.

He was as ready as he was before and MC wasted no time sinking down onto him, the stretch of him burning and she whimpered, her head buried in his chest. The neck of his shirt exposing his skin to her as she rested her cheek against it.

Maglor shushed her, cooing and rubbing his scarred cheek against her.

Once she felt she had relaxed enough, MC began to rock on Maglor. Slowly and gently.

It was a tender coupling despite the circumstances, full of whispered praises.

However, it was not to last, Maglor had just slipped a hand under MC’s skirt when he heard footsteps, their unfortunate arrival coinciding with the irresistible pulsing of his Sunlight’s warm, wet walls.

The lady of Lorien herself burst into the tent, and saw the position they were in.

She immediately tried to reason with the young, enchanted woman, not daring to come any closer to the dangerous Uruk before her.

“MC, don’t listen to him, he’s bewitching you. You don’t have to do this!”

Maglor sighed, smirking. The slight release of breath the only giveaway to the raging pleasure and love he was releasing into his Sunlight that very moment.

“I'm afraid it is already done, we are bound”

His face was the absolute image of composure as he faced down his long time captor, his orgasm washing over him

Galadriel looked down at the scene in disgust, MC’s legs shaking as Maglor granted her her own release, thumb discreetly playing with her clit under her dress, which covered them both, hiding their actions.

She tucked her head into Maglor’s chest, hiding from the elves in the room as she came down from her orgasm.

Galadriel sneered at Maglor.

“If you are bound, then she is truly lost to us. Chain her, with her lover. They can rot together in lightless cells.”

Galadriel stormed out of the tent, followed by the guards once they had chained the elf and human together, binding them to the pole. She would not admit the guilt that ate her at allowing her cousin to take a human into his web of lies and deception.

Inside the tent, still held tight inside his sunlight Maglor held her close, kissing her forehead before pressing his against the crown of her head.

Looking her in the eye, a whispered “good girl” was all she heard before falling asleep against him.

Come morning, the only thing in the tent were the shackles that helped tie the woman and elf together. Open and empty

[steve-needs-a-hug]

Dating Adar would include...

·       Going for early morning walks in the forest, watching the sun rise together

·       Playing with baby Wargs (Warglings? Warglets? you know what i mean)

·       Painting his nails

·       He teaches you some Quenya

·       He rarely opens up about his past, but when he does, he appreciates you being there for him and not prying too much

·       He lets you brush his hair and put flowers in it

·       The Uruks start calling you mom

(Inspired by this post)

[lordofthescrolls]

Utúvië (Adar x reader)

Ratings: Angst | Fluff

Summary: You believe your fiancé to be dead. After centuries of mourning, you find out something shocking after a battle in the Southlands.

Your boots hit the sturdy ground as you made your way to find your old friend, Galadriel.

You felt relief in your chest as the battle against the orcs fell victorious. They would no longer reek havoc against the humans who lived here. But who was to say that this was a true victory when lives were lost…

You have been alive long enough to know that the peace these humans feel now is only temporary against a greater evil. But not always… Not in Valinor. Not when I had…

“Your poem is quite lovely.” Enel remarked.

“You are just saying that.” You rolled your eyes, amusement gleaming heavily in your gaze.

“Now why would I tell the most beautiful elf in the entire universal a lie?” He asked.

Your blush deepened, “Because you are blinded by my beauty that you cannot see what is truly in front of you.” You motioned to the scroll, the ink still slightly wet as the words of life dried on the page.

“On the contrary my melenith, my sight has never been so clear before.” He murmured leaning closer to you.

“And why should I believe you?” You asked as he brushed his lips against yours.

“Because as your future husband, I have nothing to hide from you.” He answered, “My thoughts and my secrets are yours.”

“And am I yours?” You breathed against his lips.

“Always.” He said before meeting your lips with his.

“General!” A young voice called out to you and broke you from your memories, “Princess!” He called again.

You turned your head towards the elf calling out to you. A calm expression taking over your frown as you greeted the elf with a nod, “Yes?”

“I just wanted to thank you for helping.” He said.

“Of course.” Your smile was gentle, “It is what anyone would have done.”

“It has been a long time since I have seen you. You were helping my group with training.” He explained.

“Ah.” You said in realization as you recognized the young elf, “Arondir.” That seemed to bring a smile to his face as you continued, “I remember that I said I had high hopes for you.” You looked around before settling your eyes back on him again, “It seems that I was correct.”

“Thank you general or Princess.” He bowed.

“We fought in battle together, my name will do just fine.” You recognized golden strands of silken hair of your friend, “It was very nice to catch up but I have some matters to attended to.” You gave him a polite smile.

“Of course my Princess, I mean...” His voice trailed off as redness overtook his cheeks. He nodded once before walking away.

“Riel.” You called out to your friend who spun on her heel with nervous alarm. However, you paid little mind to her timid nature assuming it was just adrenaline from after the battle… but she is rarely nervous. You thought as she approached you. Maybe something happened.

“My squad and I have rounded up the remaining orcs. I believe that we should try and question the leader Adar before trying to get through to one of the orcs.” You reported.

She spoke your name gently as if trying to calm you, but you were too distracted by your report that you missed her furrowed brows.

“I hope that you have found this Adar? I’d rather not like to scavenge these woods tonight looking for a face I do not know.” You looked to the woods with a sick feeling in your stomach. You hated walking through the woods at night.

Galadriel spoke your name louder and finally caught your attention.

“Yes?” You asked as you settled down, “Did something happen out there? Are you alright?” Your motherly instincts kicked in as you gave her a once over but found that she was not visibly harmed, “Is it the queen? Or Halbrand?” You mentioned her new friend in hopes that he was not why she was looking at you with such pale skin right now.

She shook her head and placed hers hand on your back, “You must come with me.” She said carefully as she led you somewhere less populated, close to an old barn.

“Riel, you are scaring me.” You whispered feeling the rise of your heart beat, “Please tell me what is going on… Did someone… Did someone close to us die?” You asked softly.

“My dearest friend…” She began, “You have every right to be emotional for what I am about to say… This news will startle you to your very core.”

You gave her a nervous look, “I… I understand. I can handle it.” You said and waited for her to continue.

She grabbed your hands and in the calmest voice possible she explained, “Your husband… Enel… He is alive. He… He is Adar.”

The world seemed to still at that moment as you took time to process her words fully. It didn’t sound real. Not to you… Not after all this time. It couldn’t be… He couldn’t be… Could he?

“That cannot be.” You shook your head with a frown, “He was killed by Melkor.” You said seriously, “Melkor took him that night. I heard him scream… I…” Your breathing began to pick up as you took a step back from her, “It is a trick or someone who looks like him. That is all. My Enel… He’s gone.” You whispered hurt.

“I understand your feelings, but believe me my friend I would not lie to you.” Galadriel motioned to the barn, “He is in there. Melkor took him and turned him into an Ork.” She said solemnly.

Flashbacks of that dreadful night flooded your mind. You could remember the cool breeze… The heat of the fire… The smell of blood… It was dark and the only thing that gave you light was those dark and twisted flames as they consumed everything in terrible hunger.

Screams could be heard coming from your camp as a battle raged between Melkor and your fellow elves. Monsters entered your safe haven as you tried to find Enel. He was your only thought as you evaded each attack, but with the heavy blow from a tree twisted in darkness, your right leg snapped. That was how Enel found you, slaying the monster that tried to take your life before lifting you from the mossy ground. You muffled your cries in Enel’s tunic as he carried you towards the river away from the screams of your people. He set you down behind two boulders by the rushing waves.

“I need you to stay here and keep quiet.” He said, “I’ll be right back.”

“They are my people too Enel. How can I just stay put and just let you go back?” You grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving, “I will go with you.”

“Your leg is broken melenith. I won’t allow for you to get hurt further.” He placed his hand over yours, his eyes darting ever to search for potential threats, “I will be back soon. I promise.”

The tears that welled in your eyes only burned from the grey smoke, “You could die… Please… Please don’t go.”

“You know that I will return to you. I always do my melenith.” He pressed his forehead against yours before he gently kissed you and for a few short moments you forgot what was about to happen.

You continued to hold onto that even after you were told that he was dead. And for years to come you clung to his smile as you mourned the loss of your love.

But, now there was a possibility that he was alive. He was alive and waiting for you in that barn. He was alive and was now… Adar.

Your breathing quickened as you tried to find the words to speak, but you held your tongue. You couldn’t say another word… Not until you saw for yourself.

“You must understand that he is not the same elf you once knew.” Galadriel tried to explain to you though it was fruitless and she knew this, “He has grown dark and twisted, made into a servant of Sauron.”

You walked passed Galadriel, heading straight for the barn that was currently being guarded by two soldiers.

“No one is aloud to enter.” The one on the right stated as both of their swords crossed over the door.

They barely had time to comprehend what had happened before you were slipping past them. Both of there swords now imbedded into the soil in front of their feet.

“Let her go.” Galadriel commanded when they made a move to attempt to grab you. That was the last thing you heard before you stepped inside and the door slammed shut behind you.

You stared intently at the worn floorboards afraid to look up and find disappointment. You clenched your fists to stop the from shaking as tears filled your eyes. You tried so very hard to look up and you couldn’t until you heard his voice call your name in what seemed to be centuries…

Your gaze darted to him immediately as you looked at the familiar pair of eyes you dreamed of every night. Maybe I had died in battle and now I was home? But, then why would I imagine him older? He was still remarkable handsome even as he was warn down in chains. Maybe I am hallucinating then? A comma?

He spoke your name again already knowing the thoughts racing through your mind. That melancholy sound finally broke you as you let out a heart wrenching cry and ran towards him.

You threw yourself onto him and he struggled to catch you with his wrists chained. You didn’t care though and he didn’t either. Neither of you cared about anything expect the feeling of your bodies against each other. Even if he did smell like he hasn’t bathed in weeks.

Your sobs only grew louder as you felt him wrap his arms around you. You could feel the heat of him, something that was once a fleeting imagination in the brief early mornings was real once again. You gripped the back of his shirt tighter, your arms circling around his neck and your face pressed into the crook of his shoulder.

No other words were spoken for a long while afterwards, The two of you content in just sharing each others precense. Only the shared sobs and sniffles as you clung onto each other as if you were adrift at sea and trying to stay afloat.

“I have been looking for you ever since I freed myself.” Enel whispered gently after a while of calming silence.

Freed… The thought of him being captured… Tortured… Lost to the strength of the light. It tormented my soul.

You pulled away from him and he could see your face stained with tears, “I’m so sorry.” You apologized as the guilt poured from your heart, “I should have known. I should have looked harder for you. I shouldn’t have believed that you were dead. Please forgive me.” You pleaded as you knelt in front of him, palms fisted into your thighs.

He gently placed his hands over yours, bringing you back into his warmth… His safety, “You have no need to apologize, melenith. I have never once blamed you for my capture. You were the only one that kept me from going mad.”

You carefully placed your hands on his cheeks, your thumb gently running over his scars, “Your memory kept me from ending it all and at times I greatly wished I did only to be with you my husband…” You admitted quietly.

He gently placed his hands over yours as he leaned into your touch, “I am glad the you didn’t. I have missed you.”

You leaned your forehead against his, “I have missed you too.” You closed your eyes, “What are we to do now my love?” You whispered, “They will not let you go even if you are my husband.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes and oh how he yearned for this moment that will soon be a distant memory, “Which is why I need you to let me go.” His gaze stared solemnly into yours as you breathed in one another.

You shook your head immediately at his absurd response, “No.” You refused, “I won’t. The gods have just bestowed upon me the greatest gift I could ask for… You. And I will not throw that away. No. We will think of something else, a better plan.” You insisted as you pulled away only slightly to think of a plan.

“I have done terrible things (Y/N).” His urged as his gaze lowered to the small gash on your collar bone from the battle. He ripped off a piece of his shirt to carefully dab at the wound, “I am not the elf you once knew.” He said even though he was doing exactly what he had always done, take care of you.

“That doesn’t change my mind.” Your gaze traced the scars across his skin and you couldn’t help, but fall even deeper in love with him, “You will never be rid of me.”

He cupped your cheek in the palm of his right hand, “I cannot stay here. My children out there…” He looked off to the side, “I promised them a world where they could live freely. They need me.”

You nodded your head as the room fell quiet. If you left with him then you would be betraying your kind… Your home. But he was all of those things and so very dear to you…

It was a while before you spoke again, every word a soft reminder, “Each night I prayed to the heavens to allow me to be with you again and now you are here.” You placed a gentle kiss on the palm of his hand and nuzzled your nose against him, “The heavens have granted me my wish and nothing, I mean nothing will ever separate us again.” Your gaze was sharp and determined as you looked at him with nothing but love.

He pressed his forehead against yours again, your breaths mingling, “Then will you come with me?” He asked.

“I will follow you to the end of the world.” You replied without any hesitation, You are mine and I am yours.”

He smiled as he hummed back, “You are mine and I am yours…” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and you melted into him the same way you always have. When you both parted he spoke again, his words breathless, but his mind and heart clear.

“Then come back here when you feel the ground begin to shake.” He stated.