#Counsel of elrond

[thetiredprometheus]

If Fili was in lotr

[elithilanor]

@runawaymun

the fact that at the council of elrond glorfindel is like “just throw the ring into the ocean” is so funny to me after reading the silmarillion just because it feels like the subtext is him being like “yeah let’s try maglor’s patented and tested method: Just Yeet The Accursed Fucking Thing Into The Water”

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

[shelleysmary]

okay, but in all seriousness, is elrond being too hard on galadriel? the answer is yes. but he is also much younger than her and i think a lot of us can relate to that feeling of being in our early-to-mid-20s and feeling like "right is here, and wrong is there, and why can't these older people see it." sometimes that kind of clarity is needed. this is why generational friction exists, is natural, is necessary to the movements of society. elrond standing up to galadriel and gil-galad after spending s1 mostly in service to them is refreshing because he's finding his voice, he's owning the fact that he is not content to be a herald writing and delivering speeches for others. he cares and he wants to make a difference and speaking out against the rings has been the catalyst for that. at this point in the story elrond is already so many of the things he goes on to be in the third age. he is loyal. he is perceptive. he is wise. but he also lacks experience. he has never been tempted away from the light - probably ever, certainly not by the great deceiver. so it's easy for him to look at galadriel's folly and say "you should have known better. the darkness corrupted you and you let it happen, in part because you wanted it to happen." which technically is a true statement, but the way it feels to galadriel is much different and much more complex, and it's different to us as well because we've been with her every step of the way. we were also seduced by sauron - we were also deceived. but elrond wasn't there. he knows that sauron manipulated his friend; he doesn't know how deeply that manipulation affected her and affects her still, in no small part because galadriel contains a lot of her grief in order to fulfill her roles of commander and self-appointed bulwark against sauron.

we see her in eps1 and 2 desperately trying to make elrond understand her, but elrond doesn't want to hear it. he is frustrated at not being listened to, disappointed in gil-galad and galadriel's willingness to engage with the rings (which, to him, is equivalent to engaging with sauron, for all that he had no hand in their forging), and i would posit that he is also afraid. for middle-earth. for his friends. for himself. because his clarity of vision is being challenged, the right way is becoming obscured, and the stakes have never been higher.

in time, he will learn how easy it is to fall prey to the darkness and - like miv said in an interview - it will make him kinder. the elrond we know in the third age is devoted to healing, unburdening, and the practice of an extraordinary compassion. but those qualities aren't built-in to anyone, not even the first children of iúvatar, not even elrond. they are hard-won - through mistakes made, failures to act as one should. it's natural that he would hurt people along the way - and he has! see durin in s1! what we do know about elrond in the second age is that he tries his best to do good: to act rightly, to keep his word, to seek counsel when he is unsure of the way, to serve all middle-earth and not just elven-kind, to be true to his friends, honor his family... and he isn't afraid to admit when he's been wrong.

if these first eps are any indication, elrond's arc is going to keep carving him into the elf he later becomes and his relationship with galadriel, after these growing pains, is going to come out even stronger, with the mutual trust and near-telepathic understanding we're used to seeing from them in third age media, and i for one can't wait.

[elswing]

"[...] but also having Elrond change throughout the season: physically, emotionally, mentally. He looks different by the end of the season. He looks older."

- Robert Aramayo, via Cinema Express

His arc this season is deeply rooted in being an "outsider in his own kingdom", which a lot of people have mentioned could parallel Galadriel's storyline last season, but I don't think that it's meant to be a hitch or temporary downfall in his case. His friendships have been put in jeopardy, yes, but I don't think this is necessarily an inner struggle Elrond is supposed to resolve so much as a lesson to push through and benefit from. From what we've seen so far, the writers are using his isolation as a tool to propel him into a position of power more akin to the Elrond we eventually see in the Third Age--we see him take counsel from Círdan that he later echoes into Rivendell, we see him promoted to two commanding positions (leading the expedition & then the army) by the king who repeatedly shunned him last season, and we see him exercise his lore-master knowledge to save the life of someone under his command.

TLDR: Here's how my "Elrond will establish Imladris in the season 2 finale" agenda can still win,

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

This is the beginning of Peredhel Family Practice. He specializes in family therapy, but he is experienced in couple's and single as well.

AU where Nolo and Náro get evicted from their houses by their wives (post reembodiment) and have to room together for a thousand years.

That poor apartment is going to burn down I swear.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Let’s talk 1x08 and 2x08 epilogues and how they set up next season

Allow me to explore this idea: what clues can 2x08 epilogue give us on what to expect for Season 3, taking 1x08 epilogue as an example? In TV shows, the epilogues of season finales are meant to set up the events and the tone for the next season.

Let’s start with Season 1 finale, and how it translated in Season 2:

1) Setting up the feud between Elrond and Galadriel in Season 2:

2) Setting up Celebrimbor’s pride as the reason for him to fall prey of Sauron’s deception:

3) Setting up Eregion (mainly the forge) as the one of the major locations of Season 2:

4) Setting up Sauron’s connection to the Three rings of power:

5) Setting up the forging of the rings of power plot in Season 2:

6) The red herring:

Now, let's take a look at Season 2 finale epilogue, and what clues it might give us for Season 3:

Sauron and Fëanor Hammer:

To me, this scene is quite straightforward: it’s foreshadowing for Sauron forging the One ring in Season 3. Because the show can’t postpone that to Season 4 (Fall of Númenor), really. We know this from Tolkien lore. 

"A sanctuary. Protected... by the Elven Rings":

This location will definitely be Imladris (more known as Rivendell), and, if Season 1 finale is anything to do by, it will be one of the major locations in Season 3. With Elrond building it, and becoming an Elf-lord of his own right.

Gil-galad: Sauron's armies are roving across Eriador. All Middle-earth is within his reach now. Even Lindon. We must decide whether to attack and bring the fight to him... or to fall back, to prepare our defenses. Galadriel: The sword or the shield. Elrond: Many of Eregion's bravest fell. The few who survived are all but broken. In body or spirit. They have little strength left with which to fight. They barely had strength to flee. Arondir: What course would you advise, Commander Galadriel? Galadriel: I would remember the counsel of our dear friend, Celebrimbor, Greatest of Elven-smiths. And remind our people... that it is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light. And the sun yet shines.

From Tolkien legendarium we know several things: Sauron will attack Lindon, and lay siege to Rivendell (“First Siege of Imladris”). The Elves will also fight back, and this will culminate in the Battle of the Gwanthló (probably Season 3 finale), where Sauron allows himself to get captured by Ar-Pharazôn and brought to Númenor as prisoner, kicking off Season 4.

Will there be consequences to Morgoth’s crown wound?

What consequences will this wound have on Galadriel?

In “Fellowship of the Ring”, Frodo is injured by the Witch King of Angmar, using a Morgul blade. In spite, of being healed by Elrond, this wound never fully heals, even after the One Ring is destroyed and Sauron is defeated. On the anniversary of receiving the wound, Frodo becomes seriously ill, and he's unable to lead a normal life (like Sam, for instance). This leads him to go to Valinor, at the end of the story.

“Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured," said Gandalf. "I fear it may be so with mine," said Frodo. "There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?” The Return of the King

Frodo: It's been four years to the day since Weathertop, Sam. It's never really healed. The Return of the King (2003)

This wound forever changes Frodo, and it’s only a blade forged by Sauron, what consequences will Morgoth’s very own crown, a object filled with dark magic, have on Galadriel? And can 2x08 already have provided us with some foreshadowing on this?

These shots can imply blood binding theory is correct, and Sauron might have transferred some of his powers to Galadriel. This is not mere “camera work”: in the first screenshot it’s Sauron looking down at Galadriel, and the second is Galadriel waking up. The effect on both is the same; hinting a sharing power between them.

In Tolkien lore, Galadriel is a powerful elf-witch, an Elven queen of great magic and power, however in "Rings of Power" we haven't seen her either dealing nor displaying any kind of magical abilities. Yet. Having her blood bound with Sauron can be the show’s explanation for her source of magical power, as well as to why she never faces him directly, working against him from afar, and why Sauron couldn’t conquer Lothlórien unless he went there, himself; as well, as to Sauron’s grouping of her mind for thousands of years into the future, and how Galadriel is able to see into his mind, too.

The Three Elven rings of power: 

Season 2 finale epilogue also focused on the Three Elven rings of power, and this is not random, because Sauron will try to get them during the “War of the Elves and Sauron”. If blood binding is correct, Sauron might take advantage of this to have Galadriel handing the rings to him.

This scene is meant to symbolize the end of Galadriel and Elrond feud over the rings, but also to showcase that Elrond trusts these rings, now.

I’m not sure if this is also foreshadowing for Elrond getting Vilya next season because it seems a bit premature, so in on the fence with that one.

Gil-galad worried expression:

This expression recalled me of Elrond’s on Season 1 finale, which makes me wonder what it can mean. Is this look connected to the rings of power or with these characters?

Gil-galad is the current ring-bearer of Vilya, and, from that perspective, it doesn’t seem to make sense for him to worry about the rings. Especially since he used its power (+ Nenya) to heal Galadriel, earlier. So, it can be related to the characters, yes. And from his angle, it can point to one in particular: Galadriel.

Where is Gandalf headed next?

Woman: Goodbye, Grand-Elf. Gandalf: Grandelf? Nori: They've never seen an Elf before. Never even left home before. [...] And what to leave. If I had my druthers, we... We'd walk the wastes of this world. Eatin' snails and beetles till the sun run out of days, but it's high time. I walked my path, and you walked yours. Gandalf: We are very different creatures, Nori. When all is said and done. Nori: Not so different at all, if you ask me. Nori and Gandalf part ways, 2x08

Can this dialogue be foreshadowing or set up for Gandalf meeting the Elves in Season 3?

Is there a red herring like in Season 1 finale?

Yes, I believe so. And it’s Galadriel appearing all victorious and light after her fight with Sauron. This can parallel Sauron Season 1 finale red herring; where he arrives at Mordor, also looking victorious and ready to take over the place (we all know how that turned out).

If this is, indeed, a red herring what can it mean? That Galadriel will find herself struggling harder than ever with the darkness in Season 3, as a consequence of Morgoth’s crown wound.

[fantasyinallforms]

✨I did some practice writing angry consort Bilbo, and it didn't turn out half bad. Slightly cracked and a tad occ for Thranduil but it felt good enough to share. 1.1k words. ✨ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo lunged at Thranduil. 

"What is this!" He shouted, clutching a wrinkled piece of parchment in his hands. Things had been so calm. Years of quiet interrupted only by minor disagreements that were always resolved peacefully, but what he held in his hand at present was slander. 

Thorin caught him around the waist before he could connect, and Bilbo fought him like a caged cat, tears of frustration and hurt in his eyes. 

"I had your back! I offered you, counsel! I defended you against others who looked to sow discord between our people! Was this what you thought of me the whole time?" Bilbo had never been this angry. Not at Lily Bottoms for stealing his tart recipe, not at the page who ruined an entire nearly finished book with a dropped bottle of ink, not even at Lobelia for stealing his mother's silver spoons. 

He kicked and demanded that Thorin release him, putting weight behind his attempts, but his husband never let go, only tucking his nose into his hair with a whisper of apology. 

"Was it because our friendship started with dishonesty? Something I needlessly apologized for and made right time and time again? LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!" Bilbo screamed, and finally, the elven king looked at him with a hint of shame in his eyes. 

"I had not thought through my actions or my words," Thranduil replied, unusually cowed by the sight of his rage yet still his eyes were callous. 

"How very evident," Bilbo sneered. "You have always seen conspiracy where none existed. All I did was try to warn you. I tried to counsel you when I knew others wouldn't. You surround yourself with those who revere you and will not hold a mirror to your actions. Anyone who doesn't see you in that light, you outcast." 

"I never asked for your opinions. I simply sought to share the stresses of leading my people without unsolicited advice." Thranduil shot back 

"You never had to ask! Has the definition of friendship strayed in the last 8000 years? I saw your mind swaying dangerously. It was my duty to say something. You are a leader. There is always more than just yourself at stake. If that burden of responsibility has grown too much, then hand the crown to Legolas and be done with it!" 

"You say that there is no conspiracy, yet there you hold the evidence that there are plenty I can not trust." Thranduil spat.

Bilbo balled up the parchment still in his hand and threw it at Thranduil's feet. He was no longer fighting to get his hands on the elf king's person, but Thorin still stood by his side like a ridged statue, his hand on his arm in comfort. He knew Thorin only held him back for his own sake. He wouldn't let him react out of anger, knowing he would regret his action later as much as he might want to let Bilbo blacken an elven eye. 

"I hold this in my hand because I earned the loyalty of the people closest to me. You should have known Bard was honorable, that his conscience would not have let your words go unchallenged. That you would take my kindness and twist it into animosity tells me more than I cared to know. More than that, in the months since I sent you my letter of warning, you acted as though nothing was amiss, sending correspondence and even asking for my opinion as you always have. By spreading these lies, you would seek to shatter the very peace you helped build!" 

"What am I getting out of any of this other than responsibility? I watch from The Greenwood as Dale and Erebor grow in power. None of that prosperity comes my way. You, and those like you seek to take from me all I have built and make me an outcast in lands I have inhabited far longer. I know it in my heart." 

Many times over the years, he worried about Thranduil. Time and stress burdened people in different ways; it mattered not the race they came from. Thorin, Thranduil, and even Lord Elrond had faced hard lives and the same water that softened potatoes hardened eggs. It didn't make the bitter sting of betrayal taste any better. Thranduil should know better, and Bilbo wondered if he was saying that because, to some extent, he always put elves on a pedestal, and to see one act as such was a hard truth that could not be veiled once revealed. Age and intelligence were no measure of wisdom. How do you change someone's mind when they refuse to see past their own version of the truth? 

"You betrayed my trust. You spoke ill of me behind my back and tried to get my friends to think less of me. You would attempt to alienate me from a community that you know sustains me to sate your own vanity. For what? The crime of caring about you, caring about your future! I can tolerate hate and vitriol said to my face, but I can't abide words said behind my back. Trust, once broken, is hard to get back." Bilbo held in the chest-wrenching sobs that lingered underneath his anger. It was a hurt that would sit in his chest for some time after Thranduil returned to his home.

"Then what of this community you claim exists between the elves, men, and dwarves? Even if I made amends, is this to be the end of our friendship?" Thranduil's face was unreadable, and Bilbo wanted to slap him. The bastard couldn't even apologize, not that he had expected one. 

I will not disparage you to others or vilify you further than whatever damage your pettiness has done by itself. I have only ever wanted to build a time of peace where we can trade and practice our crafts. I will not let you steal that vision from me. Dissent would only lead to war, and I have no interest in tearing the lives of my people apart. As far as our friendship, that is to be determined by you and what actions will take from here. Any words you could share beyond that mean little.” 

Everyone in the room seemed to understand that the end of his sentence marked the end of the conversation. Bilbo turned and sank into Thorin's waiting arms, letting his husband do the work of keeping him upright. 

"And Thranduil," Bilbo called, still not looking at him. "Take the soured gift you brought with you. I'm beginning to find your generosity inconsistent." ~~~

(At several points Tumblr auto-correct tried to change Thranduil's name to tranquil and taquito. I find this hilarious)

[stitcherofchaos]

Kidnap Fam vs Earendil and Elwing controversy: Regarding the twins

Maybe I’m too practical-minded, but I see a lot of people either supporting or exaggerating kidnap fam, hating it with all their being, or ignoring the whole ‘love grew between them’ to translate into ‘emotional manipulation, hatred, resentment… etc (being anti-canon)’. I’ll respect opinions, frankly, I really could care less about them, but it does get irritating when people throw canon away for the drama (I certainly get annoyed when extreme pro-kidnap fams fans make it all sunshine and rainbows as if it wasn’t a difficult time or situation).

By the way, I can and will say that the twins can feel emotions, they are allowed to do that. Resentment and love can exist at the same time (for only a period of time) but one or the other must fade in order for the other the linger. One has to be consumed in order for the other to burn.

But just a thought, Elrond and Elros could love all of their parents equally, no more, no less than the others. One became a healer and the other, a king, I think they came to understand their foster father(s) and their bio-parents’ decisions.

(Ay maybe I just suck at emotions and all this feelings stuff and have no idea what I’m tolkien about)

And I’m not trying to call out or bash anyone!

I saw (and wanted to share) the quote,

“if your anger burns the furnace in your soul your whole life, you will be forever cold in the grave.”(I’m paraphrasing, I can’t remember the exact quote)

I cannot imagine Elrond or Elros being resentful to the point were they are vicious or unforgiving, whether it was towards Elwing, Eärendil, Maglor, or Maedhros (I really don’t think he was involved too much but if you swing that way).

I don’t want Elros to be cold in his grave, and I certainly don’t want Elrond's fëa to be burning for the rest of his immortal life.

Then I also had the thought, 'if the Fëanorians had never committed the third, worst, kinslaying, then Elwing would have never flown the Silmaril to her husband and they would have never gotten the help of the Valar.'

I personally headcanon that it was Eru’s work at hand to have Maglor raise Elrond and Elros. Think about it, what if they were spoiled in an alternate universe? What if something worse had happened to the twins? What if? What if?

What if they didn't become who they were meant to be if it wasn't for who they were raised by?

By the way, I read LOTR, I know Elrond refers to Eärendil publicly as his father and he makes no mention of Maglor. I analyzed this in three ways. 1.) Elrond must keep (the memory of) Maglor closed off, locked in his heart rather than talking about him more. 2.) It would've caused drama in his realm and in the counsel. 3.) Elrond really doesn't care, his father is his father, that's it. Zip. Maglor raised him, but Maglor is gone now. In a way, Eärendil is more present than Maglor in Elrond's life by the third age. Elrond can physically see the star, but he can't see Maglor.

I see it in the third way mostly. Eärendil is Elrond father, biologically, so why would he do this "My 'real' father" BS? It just seems like a waste of time. Tolkien probably didn't want to confuse anyone since the Silmarillion couldn't be published with LOTR.

Remind me of that quote from Yondu, "He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn't your daddy." But I really didn't want to refer to that quote considering Peter and Yondu's relationship is not the best example to compare this cluster of daddy issues to. Nevertheless, there is a point to be made in that statement. There is a difference between relation in regard to Nature vs Nurture, and the effects of it.

I guess the whole point of this post is, the fandom tends to take canon lore to the extreme or over analyze things to the point where they're just projecting. Trust me, I've been there, done that. I've learned my lesson (I think) and I wanted to share what I've learned.

Also (this is purely opinion) I don’t think Maglor was manipulative about anything, in the book, he just didn’t come off that way, for as little as he appeared, he actually seemed to be pretty optimistic (*regarding Eärendil) and honest (*the debate with Maedhros). He didn’t try to excuse himself or get the twins to pity him. Maglor raising the twins was out of pity/mercy, yes, but love grew (like what Tolkien said). He probably educated them on the facts and encouraged them to form their own opinions, whether that costed him their love or not. Maglor did have the more accurate moral compass compared to his brothers (in the end of the book!- Put down your pitchforks Maedhros stans!), especially if he knew that the Silmaril was better beyond their reach than where the enemy can also reach it. It was an accurate moral compass, although not a big one.

Argue, agree or disagree, or discuss with me! I want to hear different perspectives or opinions on this matter.

[milk-lover]

I’m about half way through FOTR and Gandalf and Frodos friendship is melting my heart.

Also I would kill for Sam. Who would kill for Frodo. Which is very based of him tbh.

I’m listening to The Fellowship of the Ring and I’m so happy! I tried to read these books several times but I couldn’t get thru them. Now I’m like 2 hours in and further than I ever managed and I actually am invested and understand the story! It’s really good!

[the-elusive-soleil]

Elrond telling the Fellowship "no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will" hits a bit differently once you realize that he grew up in the later part of the First Age and a) lost his parents, b) saw the city where he was born get destroyed, and c) had a front-row seat to Maedhros' and Maglor's issues, all stemming from the last time someone swore a great big Oath pertaining to an object of power.

"Isildur would not listen to our counsel" hits WAY differently when you think about how Isildur was among the last direct descendants of Elrond's twin brother, his twin brother who chose to be mortal and died thousands of years ago, and about how so many people Elrond was close to in the First Age died or were lost because of the trending objects of power back then (except for Gil-galad, who had just recently died because of a different object of power), and how Elrond must have been desperate to not have to go through this nonsense again, please not another person he's close to getting caught up by something like this. And then Isildur keeps the Ring anyway. And he dies.

[chewytoothmeats]

This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it?

I kinda wanted to revisit Elrond. It’s a portrait this time! I wanted to create a sense of tenderness and remorse, I hope it came across!

[tyranasauruslex]

Give me modern AU Thranduil who, after a decade of mourning his wife and some serious grief counselling, has decided to start dating again except he has zero clue what he's doing. He's only dated and been intimate with his late wife so he's not really sure what he's supposed to be doing or how to do it.

His friends suggest dating apps but that feels too overwhelming and dangerous seeing as he still has his son living at home. It would be just his luck to get murdered by a potential suitor on the first date. Next is people he's not spoken to in decades throwing themselves at him or friends trying to set him up with people they know which gives Thranduil such severe anxiety that he always backs out last minute. Nobody seems to believe him when he admits he's actually quite shy.

Everyone keeps telling him that he's so pretty he won't be on the shelf for long which might be true from the neck upwards, but below that his body is a patchwork of burn scars, skin graft scars and holes and dents from various medical procedures he's had to endure. The thought of someone seeing him without his clothes on makes him feel riddled with insecurity. Having sex with someone else whilst on paper sounds great, but the realty is Thranduil hasn't even kissed anyone for a years and would no doubt be an awful bedroom partner.

He's often ill either with a migraine or the damage done to his eye which is a lot for someone else to take on and he has a kid, who comes first no matter what. There's not many people who'd be willing to take on someone with so much baggage as himself.

He tells all this Bard over the soy latte's his friend makes him at the restaurant he owns. Bard has always been nice to him and is also a widower so he understands Thranduil's trepidations about dating. He's also very nice to look at and Thranduil would much rather sit and watch him make coffee all day then go out with one of the suitors Elrond has dug up for him.

It take him three months and a not-so-gentle talking to from Elrond for Thranduil to realise that Bard has been flirting with him the entire time he's been moaning about his awful dating life. It takes him another month to actually do something about it and is genuinely surprised when Bard immediately says yes and spends the evening of their first date riddled with anxiety and speed dialing his therapist.

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

I don't blame Fëanáro what happened to his sons. He didn't make them do anything - not come to Endórë, not swear the Oath. They were adults. Even the twins were, albeit young adults. Everything they did they did themselves.

But I also 100% understand that Nerdanel would have a difficult time rationalizing that, and I don't think Fëanáro would think anyone at fault but himself tbh.

I know you probably didn't intend it, but I can't help but imagine Elrond creating an Eternal Marriage Counseling practice. XD

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

"...and the house of Elrond was a refuge for the weary and the oppressed, and a treasury of good counsel and wise lore. In that house were harboured the Heirs of Isildur, in childhood and old age, because of the kinship of their blood with Elrond himself, and because he knew in his wisdom that one should come of their line to whom a great part was appointed in the last deeds of that Age. " -The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien

This is so heartbreaking.

I think Elrond started to look after the heirs if Isildur in memory of Elros, but that overtime the motive shifted. Oftentimes, he would care for one of his dying foster children and think, "I can't do this anymore."

But each time he kept on because looking after his foster childrens' children and grandchildren was the only gift he had left to give them that mattered.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Fearing Not A Shadow Nor A Chill

Day 5 of @elrondweek. Elrond/Celebrían & Children. Here or on AO3.

-

"I used to long very much," Celebrían had told him once. "For a playmate as near in age as Elros was to you."

Elrond had not answered. He walked beside her, by shores of the Aduin's first strong fountain-streams, and very carefully did not look too plainly upon Lady Celebrían's curved mouth, the yarrow leaf she turned and turned between her fingers.

He needed not to speak. Lady Celebrían, he had learned very quickly, was not one to wait very long to complete her ideas, none of which, she plainly felt, required much counsel or permission at all.

"Amroth was so much the elder, and so much a stranger even to my parents, who loved him as a cousin and as a son. I was lonesome and without companions, and though the joys and secrets of Lórien need not be shared to be true, still I have found them to be the greater when seen by two, and not one alone."

"So it is, in most places I have journeyed to, and not Lórien alone," said Elrond, carefully. It was the early days of their friendship, and already he had learned to be cautious with his mind and words and heart near Lady Galadriel's daughter, grey-eyed Celebrían whose conversations was like the waters of her own lands, leaping, quick and meandering and full of hidden roots to trip upon.

"I suppose, then, you would wish for children, and not one alone. That is good." Celebrían said, as if it were a natural thing to speak of, on the eve of battle, to the king's own herald.

Her eyes shone, too, with a brightness of sun on water, a glimmering laughing attention. Elrond's heart tripped in his chest, slipped from him again and again.

"I said to Elros I would not marry, if I could not present my children to their uncle."

"He must have teased you very badly," Celebrían guessed, looking at him through her lashes rather shamelessly. "I am sorry I shall not meet him; but then he has so very many descendants, some evil and some not, which on the whole may be better. He may not have wished you to know them, but not much can be done on that account; and at least any children of yours shall not lack for kin. How many would you prefer?"

Elrond, more ancient than some of the rivers and mountains of Imladris, wise in languages and laws and magics, stared.

Smiled, too, a little helplessly. He could not ever quite stop turning towards her when she looked at him with all that bare attention, and he never would; and knowing he never would did not much help in delaying love from taking root.

"A maiden," he said. A woman-child, with Elwing's quick hands at the loom, and Celebrian's way of worrying at the corner of her mouth with her thinking - he saw it, that sure alighting of love.

Celebrían nodded. As if it were that simple - as if it were an agreement, a handfasting, a promise.

"It will be good for the boys to have a sister," Celebrían said. "I used to long very much for a playmate near my age, and another a little my elder, to hide mischief from our parents better."

Elrond, old enough to remember when islands rose at the will of the gods, and all the sea-loving birds flew Westwards in a rush, smiled at her, helplessly enchanted.

-

The days of their early friendship: war ravaged the lands beyond Elrond's hidden valley fortress still. He had not known how to love her. His heart sang, assured from the first, a winged thing certain of its perfect flight - but he had not known her, truly.

He had not meant to be more than a host, her mother's friend - for whatever little that meant. Celebrían was not one to care very much for other people's good intent, when hers was so often an improvement.

For many years they were half-stranger and half-lovers, looking at each other with clear eyes. Over riverbanks and running fountains, desks and dances and the narrow, narrow curving staircases of Imladris, where the brush of a sleeve against a curling palm could be hidden, almost an accident, almost nothing.

To be wed was a thing the Noldor choose only in times of peace, though the the Sindar delayed seldom. Elrond's parents had not waited, and not their parents either; but he did. He was only himself, and too himself to dare otherwise.

Celebrían, he knew, would not have been against a bold flight of passion, not least eloping while her father tarried - would serve him well, she thought.

For Elrond only she delayed. Went patient with her words, and deeds, and the turnings of her mind, as she never had before, or would again.

He thought of it, afterwards, when her ship went where the gulls loved to go, to the place where Elwing's tower rose high, and beyond. All that times spent, that half-time.

There had been a sweetness, too, in the stretching of anticipation, but he could not be certain, afterwards. How they had tasted in his mouth, those kisses ungiven; if his hand had stung to brush her silks, if it had hurt half as much as remembering it would for many centuries.

-

Twins, they had, on purpose. Celebrían was determined, and determined to wait until Elrond was certain he could stand to want it - two little souls, as near in age as Elros had been to him.

Two were enough, they both agreed. Two sons, alike to each other to the tilt of their noses and the curl of their braids. Celebrían's children, restless and in love with the world.

Elrond's children, too, though it felt marvelous and absurd and terrible, many times, to claim such joy as his own. His children, who held his hands as they crossed the many bridges of Imladris, and brought him small treasures, and shared the same closeness he had once known with his own Elros.

Elrohir liked to run, to sing, to make mischief and pull laughter out of Imladris's people like a spark out of a flint - a brusque little surprise, flaring and vulnerable.

He had Celeborn's mouth, and Celeborn's way with beasts and rooted things, and rarely was he ever alone, pockets full of little lizards and shoulders covered with dark eyed minks, ancient serpents twining around his small, very breakable wrists.

He made friends wherever he went, respectful and cheerful and terribly silly; Glorfindel, once of Gondolin by way of friendship with Turgon and Finrod before him, spoke at times with Celebrían of her uncle.

He never made a comparison, never said the words; but it was perhaps a good thing Elrohir had been born of a people and a time with no need for the raising up of new kingdoms. It was perhaps a sorrow, too, but Elrohir never seemed to feel the lack of greatness very sharply, nor the pulling tides of the past either.

Elladan was not so.

Elladan spent half his childhood trying to escape the valley, and the other half hiding wherever he could, in a dozen secret little places that became veiled even to Elrond's senses far too quickly.

He felt sadness very keenly, his mind open like Elrond's to the many voices of the wind and the water and the earth, yet more like his mother's kin, in how the shadows on the hearts of those near and far struck fear and unease and anger in him.

He wept very often, and afterwards laid on their chests, all exhausted weight and heavy eyelashes. Elrond held him the tightest; Elrond was very determined to do so always.

For comfort, Elladan liked to play with the rings in his father's hands, to follow the trail of Iathrim inkings and hunting scars beneath Celebrían's skin. And then of course his brother came to find him, whenever he was distressed, as Elros had found Elrond in Amon Ereb and Sirion and Mithlond, wherever in dying Beleriand that long terrible war brought them.

"This is very good," Celebrían conceded, pressing her nose against their sons's sweet curls, one after the other.

Celebrían pressed her palm to his, her long marked fingers against his rings, Vylia flaring cold and alive wherever at her touch. Her attention set upon him was no less heady. His breast sang towards it only the most surely, whenever his wife's sly joy pressed against his mind; and for an instant the shadow of what might be was easy on it, nearly easy.

She had always seen him very easily, Celebrían Galadriel's daughter. Braver than he, and less patient, was the Lady of Imladris.

"Very good, and no one left lonesome; but I do recall there is a thing not yet done, that I would like to accomplish, and Elros Peredhel would be sure to tease us both very badly, if we both put it aside, on his account."

She came last, the maiden-child with a worried mouth. Tall and fair and not quick to laughter, eager to learn, his stubborn-minded cupbearer and apprentice and scribe.

Then Elrond was happier still, for many years; he had half-forgotten the old images of foresight. It was a long time before his daughter Arwen took to the loom, sitting intent and silent by her mother's bedside, weaving love into a cloak fashioned for warmth; a traveling garment, spelled against the sting of salt.