#Ecthelion imagine

[doodle-pops]

Until I Found You

Ecthelion x reader

Request: Ecthelion comfort fic where they discuss all that they went through prior to marrying one another. Reader has a sad family background and had to run away from home at 13 due to abuse (not necessary to get into details if you don’t want to), and yet still made it in life. A lot of mutual reassurance, empathy, and wisdom going forward. Pref cuddling in bed or something but location is up to you <3

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this pretty vague, not going into details or mentioning much about the suffering the reader faced and instead, focused on how Thel handled a resurfacing moment with reader.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, faint reminiscing on reader’s abusive past, mutual comfort and reassurance, some humour

Words: 2.2k

Synopsis: After attending a play which resurfaced old memories of your past, Ecthelion, concerned, sought to provide you with the necessary comfort.

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“You look awfully lost in thoughts.” Came the melodic voice of your beloved husband, standing in the doorway as he removed his gloves, followed by his outer robes. The glimmer of the fire caught in the silver of his attire, flickering fragmented reflections of kaleidoscopic images on the wall.

Swivelling your head around to face him, he was already marching into the room, undressing as he walked—a habit of his—into the walk-in closet. You hadn’t spoken or even returned the faint whisper of a hum his way, eyes fixated on his figure as he whirled around the room like a miniature storm. From the vanity to the closet, then back to the vanity—he was quiet the disarray tonight, far less composed than any other night. Nevertheless, your eyes followed his movements, a ghost smile playing on your lips as he remained focused on removing the stubborn trousers that became a size too small for him, yet he insisted that he would fit perfectly into them. Now, he paid the price, especially after feasting and drinking.

“Are you alright?” he questioned, snapping you out of your trance.

With jerky movements, you inclined your head towards him with a puzzled expression marring your face. “Whatever do you mean?”

He sighed, shuffling out of the last piece of clothing that made him feel compact and walked over to the edge of the bed. Hovering at the edge, his hand reached out, knuckles curling and brushing over your cheek. You leaned into his touch and shutting your eyes at the warmth his hands always provided, you hummed in contentment before opening your eyes to gaze upwards. “How was the dinner?”

He gave a knowing smile and moved to sit at the edge, his hand shifting to hold yours. “It was exactly as anticipated. Egalmoth was the first to become drunk and started stripping, Laurë challenged me to a competition and embarrassingly lost—ended up crying, and Rog was late due to working on some one-of-a-kind piece.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” you jested, squeezing his hand while your thumb idly traced patterns at the back. “I should accompany you next time and see all the antics myself.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid that might traumatise you for the rest of your life. Don’t want that,” he chuckled lightly and looked down at where your hands were entwined, his heart warming at the sight.

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes and threw him an exasperated look. “I doubt that. I’ve faced worse things and still came out on top. If anything, I can endure all the antics that your odd group of friends conjures by the day.”

There was a short pause after your statement, your words nearly falling flat before a sudden, loud laugh escaped him. His head tossed backwards as it grew heartily, a deep rumble from within. “Oh my love, you are full of surprises. But indeed, I’m sure you can put up with them,” he acknowledged, lifting your hand to his lips and imparting a long, sweet kiss to your knuckles, gazing into your eyes lovingly. “But how was your day spent away from me?”

You hummed at the question and his actions, feeling your stomach fluttering and performing cartwheels by the dozens. You fought to control your expression, not wanting to end up like a blushing fool who caves in at the mere contact of their husband kissing their hand—as if you hadn’t had numerous occasions before. Darting your eyes away from him and focusing on the bed, your other hand reached out to idly pluck at the sheets. “It was…well spent,” you began with some hesitation before taking a deep breath and continuing, “went to see a play today—the one I told you about, ‘No Place Like Home?’”

He gave a curt hum and waited for you to continue, always enjoying when you spoke about your day instead of his—the best part about his day. “It was much different from the others we attended. This one…” you paused, trying to find the right words to describe what you felt as you observed the play from start to finish. “This one felt too close to home. I wasn’t expecting it to be so similar to what I experienced…”

Your voice was left to hang in the air, there were no words spoken between you or Ecthelion. Only the faint sound of the firewood crackling in the hearth and your breathing.

The topic of your past was a touchy one, more so for Ecthelion rather than you, having overcome the obstacles and wanting to live your life to the fullest. You made the option to overcome the burdens, facing your memories all for the sake of wanting to never feel weighted by them as you lived in the future. Whereas Ecthelion, well, it was simply a touchy subject that left him torn, even when he had no part to play in your early years. Carrying your burdens as if they were his own. He always seemed to be the one who was more affected by your past than you were.

Realising that he wasn’t planning on responding, you continued in a more upbeat tone to disperse the growing heaviness in the room. “I still enjoyed the play, nonetheless. The songs were well-written and sung—credits to the writers and singers—”

“And the story? Was it also…” His words were left in suspension, waiting for you to pick them up.

“Interesting? Enjoyable?” you inquired, giving his hand a gentle, yet firm squeeze of reassurance. “Well, the story was about a child unable to bear the pressure of high expectations placed upon them, punished brutally in return, and then ran away, finding peace in the comforts of a stranger who offered them a new start. It ended with the child, now an adult, having the happy ending they deserved.”

“And that reminded you of yourself,” he said softly, a statement rather than a question.

You nodded against him. “I hadn’t thought about those days in a long time. But seeing it unfold on the stage tonight, watching it happen to someone else...it brought everything back.”

Ecthelion was quiet for a moment, his grip tightening on your hand. And when he spoke, it was thoughtful. “It is one thing to look back on our own pasts, but another to see them reflected in another’s story. It makes us remember not just the events, but the way we felt—the fear, the pain, the uncertainty.” He exhaled softly. “Did it bring you sorrow?”

You considered that. “Not sorrow. Not exactly. Just...a strange sort of reflection.” You shifted and adjusted the sheet over your lower half. “I thought about how much has changed since then. How I never imagined, back then, that I would one day have this—a home, a life of my own...you.”

“You built this life for yourself,” he murmured with reassurance. “Through hardship and pain, through struggle and determination. You carved your own path, and that strength is something to be proud of.”

“I did come a long way,” you whispered with a small smile. “All thanks to you.”

“And in this play, did they find someone to love them and relieve them of their burdens?” he quietly mumbled, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hmm—” you tapped your chin with your finger, pretending to appear deep in thought, “—well, their beloved appeared to be quite the crybaby, if I must say. Also, very cute, more cute than handsome—”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” he grumbled, disgruntled at your teasing as you reminisced on how teary he was in the earliest when you both met. You would never let him live it down, constantly reminding him at every opportunity you got. “I was not a crybaby.”

“I did not say that you were. I was speaking about the main love interest.”

“You were implying.”

“Your words, not mine.”

He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his lips despite his annoyance. You did have a way of turning the most melancholic conversations into something lighter and enjoyable. That was your charm, your secret weapon that he fell for when he first met you—dispelling all the negativity even when you had yours sitting on your back. To still see light in dark places after everything, it took a lot of courage and hope to get where you are.

Glancing at you once more, his face became serious, lines of concern etched into his forehead, making him appear aged. “Did it trouble you?”

With a dramatic exhale, though you understood his distress, you reached your other hand out to place over his, sandwiching his hand between yours. “Thel. My sweet as honey, Thel,” you cooed and smiled at the way he uncontrollably blushed, “it does not bother me anymore. I have made up my mind to live in the present—I want to live the life I’ve always dreamed of, and I cannot do so if my past is a constant burden at every turn. I have learned to make peace because I have a future to look forward to. A future with you, the one who gave me a chance.”

“The one who fell in love with the apothecary because he was stumbling over his words, asking for herbs for a headache,” he laughed, and you followed suit, joining with your joyous and infectious sounds.

“Indeed,” you confirmed. “The one who, when asked about his headache, began asking me about my day, my name, who I was, as though he was about to hire me for another trade.”

He met your gaze, his expression turning serious. “Because I saw something in you that I could not ignore. And the more I learned, the more I knew I wanted to be part of your life.”

Your heart swelled at his words. "And now you are."

He smiled, relieved. “Now I am. However, I wasn’t a crybaby like the main love interest.”

Without missing a beat, you countered. “I beg to differ. Remember when I told you about—” Your words were cut off by a hand clamping over your mouth to silence the rest of that embarrassing story that would forever haunt him. No one needed to know the horror he would take with him to the grave.

Eyes crinkling at the corners, you gave a muffled, amused laugh as you watched him grow redder by the second at the mentioned memory. You were not one to let him forget such a precious memory. If you could frame it in a picture and hang it on the wall, you would.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help it,” you giggled and reached out to remove his hand from over your mouth. “You were so precious.”

“Hmm, of course, I was,” he muttered half-heartedly, not forgetting to roll his eyes. Redirecting the conversation back to the original topic, he spoke up. “But…I just want to ensure that you’re alright and the play didn’t resurface anything. You always say that you’re alright and then something suddenly happens, and you relapse for a bit. I just want to make sure that you’re not saying this for my cause.”

The air fell silent. You inhaled sharply, looking down at your hands sandwiching his, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. Then, you glanced up at him, meeting his awaiting eyes. The intensity behind his steel-grey eyes made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip. It wasn’t the gaze that left you feeling anxious or guilty, it was one that was warm and inviting—holding no malice or disappointment—just pure safety.

“I can never convince you enough, can I?” You gave an airy, laugh, then took a deep breath and leaned forward, bridging the gap between you until there was nought but an inch of space between your faces. His eyes softened at the closeness. “You’re so good to me. Giving me a chance to experience the love of another person and letting me live my life to the fullest,” you whispered genuinely. “I appreciate that, my love.”

A beat passed, and then he spoke up with a smile. “That answers my concern, then?”

“Thoroughly. Though, I have nothing to hide from you. You are the one soul I will bear myself to without hesitation,” you admitted without hesitation.

“You should have nothing to fear from your past,” Ecthelion murmured after a while. “It shaped you, yes, but it does not define you. You have built something beautiful, something no cruelty could ever take from you.”

Then gingerly, he leaned in to press his lips against your cheek. The kiss was short, simple and sweet. Nothing different from the man who sat before you, cradling your face with his other hand as though you were glass. Pulling away first, Ecthelion tilted his head to meet your forehead and planted a longer kiss on your warm skin, humming against you in contentment. “Why don’t I finish freshening up and then return to you more decently, and we can assess the rest of your comfort?”

“Only if you promise to cuddle me,” you replied.

“I would be a madman to deny,” he laughed, and forced himself away from your warmth, rising to his feet and marching towards the closet to disrobe the remaining clothes he wore.

You, on the other hand, sat there, staring at his retreating figure, feeling all the more content now that you got your thoughts off your chest. You truly could not have been any more grateful for meeting someone like him all those years ago. You wished it could have been under better circumstances; however, you didn’t regret meeting and falling in love with him.

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[lovefairymina]

*Flops on the bed dramatically while Ecthelion was reading*

You: Oh Ecthelion, oh Ecthelion! Where for thou art Ecthelion?

“Are you always this dramatic when lacking attention?” he chuckled and glanced over the top of his book, raising an eyebrow as he set it aside. “Though it seems I may have to rescue you from your dramatic display.”

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello! I love your work and I’m so glad you’re taking requests!!! Thank you so much for doing this! I’d like to use the “Jewels” prompt: If you don’t mind, I had an idea for an EcthelionxFem!Reader smut (she is his wife) featuring pre-negotiated CNC kink, humiliation, light dom/sub dynamics in the bedroom (dom!ecthelion), and possessive sex. He loves her very much but she has some unique desires which have revealed themselves over the course of the relationship. He also seems like the kind of Noldo who would want to see their partner naked wearing nothing but their jewelry, especially with his canonical love for diamonds.

Do not want: sadomasochism, master/slave dynamics, orgasm denial, angst, blood play, bruising/injury.

Do want: rope bondage, sexual training

-⛲️ Anon

Hello ⛲️ Anon! I hope you like this!

When Affections Are Spurned

Pairing: Dom! Ecthelion/Fem. Reader (Second Person POV)

Prompt: Jewels

Themes: Smut | Aftercare

Warnings: Consensual NC | Rope Bondage | Sexual Training | Humiliation (Mild)| Light Dom/Sub Dynamics | Possessive Sex | PIV sex

Wordcount: 2.5k words

Summary: Ecthelion, spurned after giving a wondrous gift, takes what he wishes from his lady and spouse.

Minors DNI | 18+

Prompts for requests can be found here.

Ecthelion ran his finger over a row of immaculate, clear gems. They glittered like fiery little stars in the candlelight. “You accept my gifts with a willing heart,” he began gravely, “and you spurn my desire for your affection when I seek them. If that was not enough, you just gave me a merry chase around our private chambers when I wished to talk to you on the matter.” He drifted to the seat that was not far from the foot of the bed and sat down, one leg crossed over the other. The chair had been a gift from Galdor of the Tree—high-backed, lined with velvet cushions, and ornately carved, a gift befitting the high rank of the recipient it was given to. And its maker knew nothing of the uses it saw. “Such conduct will not do, Y/n,” he continued, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “What do you have to say in your defense?” 

You squirmed upon the edge of the bed, unable to move. Ecthelion did not just seize you after he caught up with you—he bound your arms and feet with lengths of silken rope he took out from a special cupboard by the window. The one around your ankles was secured in a simple fashion, but the one that went down the length of your arms to keep your hands behind your back was fastened into elaborate knots, though not painfully so. They had been tied with a great deal of care.

“Well?” Ecthelion said more firmly, his face a study of calm.

“I offer no excuse for my defense, husband,” you blurted, trembling, but not from the cold. After he had come home, Ecthelion had given you the most splendid array of diamonds you had ever seen. They had been polished to smooth disks, and they had been fastened to strands of white gold no thicker than the shaft of a slender quill. He had undressed you and draped his offering around your throat and shoulders, and he had taken a moment to admire how it fell past your back and knees in a delicate web, leaving the rest of your naked form exposed to the chill in the air and the chill from both metal and stone. After that he sought the kiss that was denied to him. “For I see no cause to offer one. I was not in the mood to reciprocate, so I chose not to.”

“I see,” Ecthelion returned. He sighed and leaned into his chair, pinning you to where you were with his piercing gaze. It was that of a predator, and not an elven lord’s. The sight made your blood thrum in a way you could not describe. “Well, I must tell you, Y/n, that moods should not matter when one’s companion is desirous of one’s affections.” He dusted himself off and stood up. “And now, I believe, I will claim what was denied to me before.”

“And I say no,” you responded defiantly. “You will have no affection from me. Certainly not on this night.”

Ecthelion tilted his head to the side and studied you, more amused than wroth. “You can defy me all you wish, Y/n,” he said, “but I will have what I seek in the end.” He stopped two paces from the bed and went about undressing himself, his nimble fingers making quick work of undoing the clasps of his tunic. “You are my bride, after all,” he added, unfastening them one by one, “and you must be ever-comfortable to my will.” Silk rustled and parted, leaving him bare from belly to throat, before it was tugged off his shoulders and down his arms and thrown onto the floor. “Such is the way of marriage. Surely you must know this.”

“Such is not the way of marriage; I am certain of it.”

“Oh, but it is. No matter. I will take what I hunger from you, whether you will it or not.”

“And what if I decide to try and fight you off?” You declared, watching Ecthelion crouch down on his knees. “There will be no satisfaction to be had then.”

Ecthelion unlaced his boots, his thoughts already fixed on the heady diversions that were to come. “There will be a great deal of satisfaction,” he said, “for me as well as for you, I think.” He straightened and stepped out of them, and his breeches and smallclothes also. Soon, he stood before you, his naked body as flawless as it had been since before he departed Valinor. Seeing him like that, without raiment and unashamed of himself, almost made you want to forget yourself. “Now, stay still. And do not try to defy me.”

He came right up to you and knelt again. This time it was to undo the bindings at your feet. Ecthelion was surprisingly gentle, and his touch was exhilarating. It sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your limbs and up your back, and made you gasp despite yourself. Ecthelion looked up. His face lit up with a triumphant smile.

“Despite all your protests,” he uttered, though not unkindly, “you still welcome my caress. Are you certain you have no need for me?”

“I have no need for you,” you insisted, your cheeks aflame, “and I do not welcome your caress. What you heard was a sign of momentary weakness, nothing more.”

“A momentary weakness, you say,” Ecthelion replied, his eyes burning like stars in the light of the hearth fire. “We shall see about that.”

He got to his feet and cupped your cheek. His palm was warm as it glided down your throat, over your garb of jewels, and back up again. You tried to pull away, but Ecthelion gripped your chin when you did so, hindering your movement and compelling you to look at him. He tutted in disappointment.

“Do not fight me,” he commanded, loosening his hold and allowing his thumb to wander. It glided over your lower lip over, and over, and over again. “Open that pretty little mouth of yours for me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will. Go on. Do not make me repeat myself a second time.”

“I will not. You cannot compel me to obey you.”

“Very well, then.” Ecthelion forced his thumb—though not in an ungentle fashion—past your parted lips the moment you opened your mouth to protest, silencing your words before they could even be heard. He pressed it down against your teeth, keeping your mouth still open, and said, “Close your mouth and take this as far in as you can.”

You obeyed, having no other recourse but to do so. Ecthelion groaned when you heeded him and took him as far in as was possible. Flashes of heat crept up your throat repeatedly when he began to thrust the way he would whenever you pleasured another particular part of him. Ecthelion looked on approvingly, his bright eyes now clouded with unbridled lust.

“Look at you,” he husked. “Yielding to me so easily. So pitiful. But I am not one to offer complaints… not when you please me like this.”

A heavy flush coursed just beneath your skin. Hearing such words inflamed you, though you were not going to say a word about it to him. You could not do so in any event. Not with his finger probing your mouth. Ecthelion did not mind your silence. He preferred listening to the sharp little breaths you took while serving his needs instead.

“Very good,” he whispered, when you instinctively bobbed your head up and down in time with his movement.   

His praise made goosebumps rise all over your flesh. Still, you did your utmost to quell further signs of your arousal. You did not want him to see it. Ecthelion finally withdrew his thumb with a soft, wet plop, having had his fill of the act.

“The night is far from over,” he said, “and we have only just begun. I will help you further up the bed. Then we will couple, you and I. It is only fair, given how you behaved not too long ago.”

“I will not lie with you,” you snapped. “You will have to find some other way to give yourself relief.”

“Defying me again?” Ecthelion said, his hands on his hips. “Did you not hear me the first time? I will take what I hunger from you, whether you will it or not. And since you persist in refusing me, I will take what I wish while you remain unwilling.”

“And as I said,” you spat, “I will try and fight you off. I will not let you have your way with me while I am in this state. Do we understand each other on this?”

“We do not need to understand each other, dearest wife, for you are in no position to defend yourself,” Ecthelion said smugly. “And you are in no position to refuse me. Here. Let me show you.”

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the arms, pulled you up to him, and kissed you. You pursed your lips together, but it was to no avail. His kisses were hungry and demanding, and his tongue forced its way into your mouth to flick against yours. Then, there was his embrace: it kept you to him in a vise-like hold. Ecthelion held you tight as he savored the subtle hints of the wine and honey and berries you had during your last meal. He stopped just long enough to speak.

“You taste sweet,” he breathed, “just as you always do. I wonder if you are now ready for me to take you.”

“I am anywhere but ready,” you lied, shivering when he dipped his head and ran the flat of his tongue up your neck. Fresh arousal gathered between your thighs, making it nearly impossible for you to ignore the needs of your baser urges surging through your veins. Ecthelion did not give you an answer. He sank to the ground, forgetting all notions of the bed, and took you down with him.

“Your words do not concern me,” he said, forcing you down on your back and moving on top of you. His body was almost as hard as the marble floor, and the weight of it made you squirm. “All that truly concerns me is what I will find between your legs.” He reached down to lift the edges of the adornment he had draped you in up to your waist, parted your legs with his, and settled comfortably between them after bracing his arm by the sides of your shoulder. “You can writhe all you want, wife. I will have my way in the end.”

“You will not,” you countered, twisting and struggling in a vain attempt to break free. Ecthelion laughed. It was a chilling sound.

“I will,” he declared, sliding his free hand under your arse and raising it. Then, without a word of warning, he positioned himself and pushed in with one powerful thrust.

Ecthelion was big—uncomfortably yet wonderfully big. He made you cry out—in shock, pain, and even lust—when he filled you completely and groaned out his own pleasure as he sheathed himself within the lush heat of your body. And he laughed once more, this time when he found how ready you truly were, and how your words were nothing but a handful of lies that were told to dissuade him.

“Look at how wet and needy you already are,” he murmured, keeping himself still. “That is a good thing, for I fully intend to use you until I have been satisfied.”

“I give you my word, such will not be the case.”

“I beg to differ, wife.”

Ecthelion moved, pulling his hips back and pushing back in. He showed no concern for your own comfort, and he paid no heed when you thrashed against him. He simply took and he took and he took, his breath hot against your skin as he rutted almost like a wild beast between your thighs. 

“Will you refuse my need for your affections hereafter?” He asked, thrusting deep and striking a place that made you see stars behind your eyes when he did so.

“I—” you began, and faltered. Ecthelion struck that place again, making you moan. That and the sensations brought about by polished stone and metal rubbing against you each time you moved crushed what will you had left to defy him, and made you crave more of what he was unleashing deep within your belly. “I will not refuse you hereafter, husband. I will grant whatever you desire from me with an eager heart.”

“Good,” he cooed. “And do you want me to ravage you while you lie garbed in only my gift for you?”

“Yes, husband. I… I will no longer fight you.”

“I knew you would be eager for me to ruin you. Now stay still and cease your thrashing. It will be over soon.”

It did end soon, with your vision slowly fading to black and a powerful orgasm ripping through you. You could do nothing but arch your back as wave after wave of ecstasy rose and crashed, leaving you drowning in the sheer intensity of it all. Ecthelion did not last much longer either. He grunted out your name as he emptied himself of his spend, and then he went still.

A hush settled over the chamber. Nothing could be heard for a brief while save for the crackling of wood as it burned. Ecthelion stirred. He rose to his knees and drew you up with him.

“Shhh,” he soothed, when you jolted against him. “It is me, my sweet. Your husband. Stay still, and let me untie this rope.”

He kept you steady as his fingers worked on the rope binding your arms. Its knots slackened before they came undone completely, and the rope itself slipped to the ground. There was a new rush of blood, and a dull, throbbing pain, but it went soon enough when Ecthelion rubbed down aching muscles all while showering you with praise. Every part of you felt like it was melting under his tender ministrations, and your body filled with a growing sense of ease.

“Did I go too far?” He questioned, anxious. “Did those jewels cut into your flesh?”

“You did not,” you said, sighing softly when he scooped you into his arms and arose. “And the jewels did not cut. They felt rather pleasant, pressing against my skin when you took me.”

“I confess, it felt strange hearing the acts you desired,” he admitted. “To take absolute power over you into my hands and claim you against your will? It was unnerving to even think of at first. But I am glad that you came to me, and I am honored that you trust me so implicitly with your secrets and your fantasies.” He drifted to the side of the bed and laid you down on soft pelts. “Is there anything you require? Should I fetch some food and drink for you?”

“Some water would be welcome,” you said weakly, nestling among the pillows. “And a bath, perhaps.”

“I shall draw it for you.”

“Thank you. And thank you for this gift. Never have I received anything so beautiful.”

“Then I shall see to it that you receive more,” Ecthelion said, beaming, “for you look glorious in such things, with no other garment to hinder your beauty. Rest for now. I will see to the rest.”

[n0tamused]

"Glorfindel the Reckless"

A/N: Requested by @stormchaser819 ! I hope you enjoy <3 I love Glorfindel so much, I hope I did him justice. Please let me know what you think! If anyone wants to be on my elf tag-list let me know, and mention which character you'd like to be tagged for if you want to be tagged for anyone in particular

Contents: Glorfindel x Elf!Reader, GN reader, fluff. Elvish translations at the bottom

Words: 1448 I Ko-Fi

Sunsets in Gondolin have always been a sight worthy of gazing upon. They never lost their beauty nor their charm and served well in comforting the hearts of many after all the dark news that reached them, be it by word or by letter. It almost caught you unawares now as the same sunset painted the marbled floor in glittering spots of gold and orange around you. 'Has it been so long already?'

Glorfindel sat quietly for once, observing you through tender eyes as you wrapped his injured arm in new dressings, the last of his wounds. Although he had no lack of love in Gondolin, nor the lack of people worried for him, his heart squeezed at the sight of your face when it wrinkled with worry, the tight frown on your lips and the way your teeth marked your lips. His intentions were to shield you, comfort you, but he knew he wouldn’t be doing any of it by sending you away or offering you empty words in hopes to sweep the topic of wounds away. 

“You’re healing quickly..” your words snapped him out of his internal musings, and he blinked once, twice as if your face was only now coming into his vision, cleared away of fog and distance. His lips pull upward at the corners slightly, searching your eyes for something.

“And that is much relief, but also to be expected when I have you tending to all that wishes to ail me” His words were a warm timbre, as gentle as the hearth fire in dusky winter nights. “I have much to thank you for,” he added as he watched you tuck away the excess wrapping, securing it tightly before patting the palm of your hand around the side of his forearm, the motion gentle. 

“The healers have done their due as well, I am not a great healer, but I know how to dress a wound” you told him as you looked up at him after finishing your task, exhaling softly through your nose. Elven blood was enduring, persevering, yet not even that was able to make you feel any less tired, or look the part. For too long did Glorfindel linger outside of your eyes and out of your reach, fighting battles and doing deeds worthy of the praise he got, and more. For too long he left you without a word. All of which you understood, yet it did little to comfort you of his safety. Had you any skill with a sword as he did, perhaps you would have taken a place by his side in the battles. But your weapon was a quill, rather than a blade.

“The healers have gotten their due praise and my gratitude, but you ought not to discredit yourself simply because you do not bear the title of theirs” Glorfindel said, his tone laced with subtle interwoven notes of concern. His head absentmindedly titled to one side, hoping to catch your suddenly fallen gaze. 

Your eyes flickered to his own for a heartbeat before you busied yourself with sorting away the excess wound dressing, ointments and herbs and tools and all else you brought in your healer’s bag. For a healing wound of his, this was much unnecessary. “I am not discrediting myself” you replied, your voice dropping lower despite your efforts to keep sturdy. Secrets were a distant thing between you and Glorfindel, almost as if there was an external force stripping you both bare, feeling so natural yet, at times like these, embarrassing. 

“I only worry you’ll allow the reputation everyone pins on you to get the better of your wits one day”  It was a harmless bite, a proof of your worry you knew not how to express in any other way.

Glorfindel huffed out a laugh, breathing in a good mouthful as his lips quirked upwards as if greatly amused by your words. He sighed as he shook his head slowly, his gaze leaving you for a moment as he took in the sight of the great bedchamber around him. The gold lances of the sun shone through still, slowly transitioning from gold to pale purples and pinks. “Surely, you do not worry yourself to exhaustion because of this?” he looked back to you, “Must I remind you that I am not as reckless as you may think?” he offers gently.

Your eyes met his gaze, noticing the hint of mischief but also.. worry. He may not show it, but you could see it, feel it when his fingers brushed your hand in a silent quest of comfort for both of your hearts. 

“No.. I.. I am fully aware of your skill, Glorfindel” you made yourself chuckle, lips pulling upward in a smile to ease yourself into the sentence. “I just.. hate to see you hurt, surely you understand that I am not exactly myself when I see you like this?” you take his good hand in yours and give a squeeze which he gladly returned. “It pains me to see you off wherever you go to battle, any battle, and to be sure sometimes my heart makes a beast out of a fly, but I.. I just worry for you, melda”

“I know… as do I for you..” he smiles at you again, and his hand slips the clasp of yours to find its way up. His fingers touched the line of your jaw tenderly at first, feather light, before his palm slipped onto your cheek to hold it. Seeing you lean into it made Glorfindel sit up and draw closer to you. His lips found yours in a lingering kiss. He was warm, warm as always, warm as fire and he held yours like nothing else mattered in the world but this very moment. 

After he had pulled back he made slow, sweet motions that brushed the tip of his nose against yours and then pressed your foreheads together.  “Elin nin.. you can have my word that I would never cast aside all the wisdom I have just so another song may be sung about me, not when I know you’d eat yourself from within if I were to do something so stupid” His tone had dropped to a whisper, shared strictly within this small bubble the two of you created. 

“Recklessness does not suit me, as you always love to remind me, and I do not care to try it out again any time soon” he chuckled, sparking a small chain reaction that ended with you chuckling along with him. Your hand found its way over his, holding him glued to you. 

“You said I look like a fool when I am too hasty” he continued, fueling the moment for what it was, so it may melt away the tension.

“Foolish behaviour is not fit for a lord of the house of the Golden Flower” you told him, shuffling closer to him. 

Glorfindel nodded, “Precisely. And I’d be an even bigger fool not to listen to you, Meleth nîn. There’d be many songs sung about Glorfindel the Fool by now.. Hah, I can almost imagine the verses. ‘Glorfindel charged with a mighty shout, but tripped on a rock and his long cape right out’!” 

It was hard to resist laughter, and it all bubbled up to your mouth and shook your shoulders as Glorfindel came up with verses on the spot. 

“ ‘His sword slipped from his hand, stuck in a tree so high, he wondered whether he might just wish it goodbye’ �� 

He did not stop until you slapped him on the shoulder, cheeks dusted with pink from laughter. “Oh, stop! You got your point across, no need to make me suffer any more with these verses of yours” you complained as you doubled over, the top of your head pressing into his shoulder as to hide away the mirth in your face.

“Ecthellion knows how to write and sing better than I, but I am not so bad myself at weaving a rhyme or two” he replied, letting you lean into him while one arm went around you, his good arm pressing you further into him. His chest was shaking with humble chuckles. “Melin ceni hin lîn síla i ‘eladhach! Don’t hide from me” He told you after swallowing a breath and you took courage to face the golden haired lord with all your flushed-face might. 

“There you are” he added and cupped the back of your nape with his hand. “Has my recklessness frightened you?”

“No, but it might annoy me if you mention it any more” you straightened up and kissed his cheek, reveling in the way he glowed when he smiled. 

melda - beloved

Elin nin - my star

Meleth nîn - my love

Melin ceni hin lîn síla i ‘eladhach -I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[imagine-all-the-elves]

Imagine Ecthelion enchanting you with his magical flute.

Author: Anonymous

Artist: Kiki Chan

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

WIP - Ecthelion

[theelvenhaven]

Jealous Ecthelion

Request: May I request a Jealous!Ecthelion? Maybe Reader has been talking about someone she kinda admires and he gets the green eyes 👀💚 of envy. He thought he was your No. 1 :(((

A/N: I wasn't quite sure if this was supposed to be a fic or a set of headcanons but I made it into headcanons.

* * *

⫸ Ecthelion likes to think of himself as someone who isn't capable of getting jealous, and is often times proud of that fact because he trusts you so deeply.

⫸ So when it comes to you speaking about people you admire, Ecthelion usually takes things in stride and doesn't jump to conclusions.

⫸ He enjoys listening to you rave about your favorite whomever- friend, author, artist, etc. that you have had the chance to meet and spend time with.

⫸ If anything he will usually contribute to the conversation, keeping it going until you have spoken about it til your heart is positively content with all that you wanted to say.

⫸ So when you come to Ecthelion one day talking about how you really like another Lord in the Houses of Gondolin, Ecthelion feels a little pang of jealousy strike him right in the chest.

⫸ At first he just ignores it and tries to just focus on listening to you talk about it, because clearly this conversation and admiration you have for this Lord are harmless... right?

⫸ But the more he listens to you speak, the more jealous he becomes.

⫸ Ecthelion knows it is entirely irrational that he is feeling this way about the Lord you are speaking of, I mean you two have a romantic relationship why would he need to worry? Right?

⫸ But when he realizes that you aren't going to stop talking about the Lord you have suddenly come to admire it only serves to make him positively green with envy.

⫸ Ecthelion grows surprisingly short with you about who you are talking about and doesn't take the time to indulge you in questions to keep the conversation going.

⫸ It doesn't take long for you to catch onto the fact that something is wrong seeing as he isn't indulging you like he usually would when you come to him about someone you admire.

⫸ When you ask him what the matter is and if you've done something wrong, Ecthelion plays it off pretty heavily, trying not to clue you into the fact that he's jealous.

⫸ But when you keep pressing he becomes short with you again, not wishing to confess to you that he's jealous of you speaking about another Lord.

⫸ It is only then are you able to put two and two together and realize that he's jealous of whom you are speaking about.

⫸ When you confront him, Ecthelion doesn't confirm nor deny that he's jealous, instead for a long moment he sits in quiet mulling over the fact that, yes he is indeed jealous.

⫸ It is only after a long moment of silence that he tells you that he's jealous hearing you talk about that Lord with such praise and admiration.

⫸ It comes as a shock seeing as he doesn't usually get jealous of anyone that you speak about otherwise.

⫸ When you offer him reassurance that he's the only for you and the only one who has your heart it certainly offers to act as a soothing balm.

⫸ Ecthelion is certainly glad to hear from you that you admire him too and that you love him.

⫸ With a few kisses to spare and holding his hand, it certainly simmers down the jealousy and Ecthelion apologizes to you for behaving the way he did and explains that it was unbecoming of him.

⫸ You simply take it in stride and accept his apology and hope to offer him reassurance again if he ever needs it.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[imagine-in-tolkiens-world]

[sesamenom]

Ecthelion's name was also used as a battle cry in the same battles reembodied-ecthelion fought in

in the two towers book Aragorn shouts "ELENDIL" as a battle cry and I get why and all but its funny to imagine normal people doing that. "GRANDPA STEVE"

[valinorianyears]

Day 6: Reawakening | Relationship with the Ainur | Returning to Middle Earth

How does he handle this experience? What is it like being in a new body, but with the same soul?

I think dying leaves some sort of grief that is hard to overcome. Even healed and more powerful than ever before he must grief for what they have lost. For the safety and dreams that died that morning gondolin was destroyed. Even if its not guilt, he did all he could after all, and he will do even more to keep the elves of Middleearth safe, I can not imagine him not grieving all their losses. And coming back alone? It must be terrible lonely.

(As always, a trinket for Ecthelion. A piece of string (cut or ripped?))

@glorfindelweek

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin Baking With You For The Holidays

Requests: May I request a baking with the Lords of gondolin for the festive season, sounds both fun and chaotic. Would there be anything to eat other then a mouthful of flour you threw at each other? Probably not. Unless you feel like eating cinnamon goop and crunchy burnt cookies. – anon

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this request, especially with Christmas approaching and the baking season in the air. Thanks for this request anon. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Navigation

Galdor

◇ He’s just too good when it comes to averaging ingredients, though he often got distracted by your playful antics each time you tried to eat the ingredients or break his concentration as he poured the vanilla syrup or honey. “Are you trying to sabotage my cookies?” he’ll whine when you throw flour at him.

◇ Might realise too late that you’re missing one of the ingredients—powdered sugar—and have to make a quick rush to the market. This unfortunately turns into a shopping spree where you two would return with extra ingredients.

◇ You’re the one to start a fight while Galdor is attempting to maintain the peace and his station clean, so your extra flour and eggs don’t end up in his bowl of cake batter. At some point, he got dragged into your ruffian behaviour and ended up covered in flour.

◇ Despite being the one making the cake and cookies, his knack for ‘quality control’ resulted in him tasting the batter/dough too often.

◇ When the first batch did come out of the oven, it was burnt which left you questioning all of Galdor’s ‘phenomenal’ cooking abilities he was renowned for. “I thought you were a great chef?” “I am, but when I have a little mouse in the kitchen, what else to expect?”

◇ Offended. At least there were a few cookies saved from the extra crispiness and the cake was decent to still enjoy your day’s labour.

Ecthelion

◇ He takes baking for the holidays the same as any military operation—detailed with a precise layout, and no straying from the outline. You will be gently scolded each time you attempt to do your own thing. Like measuring without measuring cups and spoon. He doesn’t do the whole ‘pour until your ancestors tell you to stop.’

◇ But Thel being Thel, still couldn’t resist breaking his own rules when the chocolate chip cookie dough was looking delicious and sticking his fingers to scoop a dollop. “Just checking to make sure they’re not poisoned.” As he shoves a spoonful in his mouth.

◇ You somehow managed to end up with too much dough? despite the way he was eating the dough each time you turned your back. He decided that you should share it, leading to an impromptu cookie giveaway.

◇ Spends a good portion of the evening walking through the streets of Gondolin handing cookies on trays to the citizens and his servants. Even Turgon is happy to receive his batch of cookies for the holidays.

◇ When it came to decorating, he took pride in it, the same way he takes pride in his appearance. He is in charge of the designs and hands out a sheet of paper filled with patterns for you to follow. Do not diverge from the original patterns, you’re ruining the aesthetic.

◇ At least in the end, you had the perfect batch of cookies to sit by the fireplace and eat with a nice glass of milk.

Glorfindel

◇ You’re never getting anything done on time, and surely your cake or cookies will be burnt because of his distractions. Which leads to you making a fresh batch and shooing him out the kitchen. He comes right back after sneaking in.

◇ Eats the dough like it’s food and gets all puzzled when you scold him for reducing the volume. “Laurë! We’ll have none by the time you’re finished! And you’ll get sick if you continue to eat the raw dough!”

◇ With a mouth full of dough, he looked hurt that you would deny him the right to taste-test the desserts to ensure the quality was up to his standards. “I just wanted to taste the cookies. Don’t have to be so mean.” Guilt trips you into letting him eat more.

◇ You obviously end up with less dough and Laurë earns himself a tummy ache from how much dough he ate raw. Some dough had less of certain ingredients while others had too much because he pulled you to dance in the middle of measuring, so you forgot and mismanaged.

◇ You end up with cookies that were undercooked, overcooked and er…not cookies? Still, it didn’t bother him because he was willing to enjoy the hard labour of your fantastic baking.

◇ “Baking is an art, and although it may not appear the way we intended, there is merit and beauty in the outcome.” He would cheer as he plopped a cookie into his mouth while you stood there with an exasperated look. Like he was the reason for the cookies being that way.

Egalmoth

◇ He wants to make gingerbread houses, cinnamon rolls, a ton of cookies and cake and roast turkey or chicken all on the same day at the same time. He’s elaborate about the activity if you haven’t caught on.

◇ When it comes to designing, he’s in charge and has everything in order, down to how to position the desserts and food on the table. Perfectionist, often redoing the steps to get them right. “Patience is key, darling,” he reminds you and boops your nose with frosting.

◇ Despite his meticulous nature, he loves a good laugh when things don’t go right. The image in his head wasn’t aligning with the image displayed after piping frosting on the cake to resemble the Christmas tree you drew on the paper.

◇ Mentions something about your artistry skills when it comes to drawing needs to be worked on so he could have a better understanding of what he was working with. That was enough for you to dump flour on his head.

◇ Did not take his clothes and hair becoming a mess because he put a lot of effort into appearing splendid to bake alongside you. So, if he had to look like a mess, so did you. “You look cute with all that flour and eggs—I might bake you instead to eat.”

◇ By the time you two were finished, the way you two were a mess, might as well hop into the oven to bake. More ingredients were wasted than used, and you found yourself eating the remaining frosting and dough off your hand.

Rog

◇ Rog’s all about efficiency, turning your baking session into a well-oiled machine. For him, it feels as though he’s back in the forges, about to craft an art piece with meticulous create and precision.

◇ You ought to expect his knack for improvising, often adding unexpected ingredients into the mix with confidence. “Trust me, mírë. It will taste great.” As he throws in peppermint, nuts and extra vanilla.

◇ Between the two of you, you’re the one who steals dough from the bowl when he isn’t looking or bribes him with kisses to have extra cookies. So easily he falls for your charm because he can never say no with those puppy eyes.

◇ Somewhere in the mix, the oven malfunctioned, which was no strenuous task for Rog to fix. You got to stand by and hand him his tools while watching his muscles flex and look like something to take a bite out of.

◇ With his skills and confidence, you two will end up with a variety of cookies, some traditional, others experimental. “A little bit of everything makes the holidays nice.”

◇ You two made just enough cookies to eat and also share with his fellow Lords and craftsmen he works within the forges. He left the wrapping and little notes for you since he prefers your handwriting suitable for the holidays.

Maeglin

◇ He was surprisingly enthusiastic about baking, eager to try new recipes with you and make new memories. The entire time, he would stand close by as he listened to your instructions and your patient voice as you guided him on how to mix or measure.

◇ Did have a tendency to get lost in the process, forgetting to remember the baking or resting period, so you might get burnt cookies and overrisen bread. Can’t blame him, you’re in the kitchen, an obvious distraction.

◇ He compares his crafting to baking cookies and wonders how could something so simple be difficult as he held up a burnt cookie that didn’t match the snowflake stencil.

◇ Discovered that you should leave the decorating to him when you explained piping the frosting on the cake and icing on the cookies. Even the gingerbread house was a masterpiece after leaving it in his hands. He designed an entire castle.

◇ When you happen to run out of frosting and icing, or the edible beads, he suggests a trip to the pastry shop for more items which results in Maeglin growing excited at the assortment of decorations and requests to buy out the entire shop.

◇ By the end, most of your desserts are more decorations than cake and cookies to eat. The layers you might have to bite through before you taste the pastry is immaculate. At least he had fun participating.

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @zheiya @lamemaster @eunoiaastralwings @elficially-done-with-life @addaigio @hermaeuswhora

[lovefairymina]

Ecthelion,

I am absolutely in love with the snow and the cold weather we are having this week! I’ve never been happier!

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he dusted snow from his cloak. He watched your excitement with quiet amusement, his breath misting in the cold air. “It suits you,” he said simply, brushing a stray snowflake from your hair with a gloved hand. “Like you were made for it.”

[earthlybeam]

If you have the time and it isn't that big of s problem, can you do the eyeliner ask with Glorfindel?

Love, 3am anon <3

Glorfindel version below

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

The evening sun filtered through the open balcony, casting golden hues across Glorfindel’s chamber. The elf-lord sat at the polished wooden desk, his golden hair gleaming like spun sunlight as he finished writing a letter. His strong, elegant hands moved with practiced ease, but his brows furrowed ever so slightly in concentration.

You stood behind him, arms crossed, watching with a mischievous glint in your eyes. He had no idea what was coming. As he set his quill down and stretched, you took your chance. “Glorfindel, can I try something on you?” you asked sweetly, moving closer. He turned his head, giving you a wary but amused look. “That depends. What sort of ‘something’ are we talking about?” You held up the small pencil eyeliner with a triumphant grin. “This.”

Glorfindel’s blue eyes widened slightly. “You want to draw on my face?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “That seems… unnecessary.” You tilted your head. “Unnecessary? No, no. Enhancing. Think about it! You already look like you’ve stepped out of a Valar-painted portrait, but a little bit of definition around your eyes? You’d look even more striking. Imagine the intimidation factor in battle.”

Glorfindel scoffed but couldn’t hide his smile. “Intimidation? I think a Balrog was already quite intimidated without kohl-rimmed eyes.” You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on. It’s not about scaring Balrogs. It’s about… finesse! Elegance! Mystery! I bet even Ecthelion would be jealous.” At the mention of his best friend, Glorfindel let out a deep chuckle. “Ecthelion would never let me live it down.”

“That’s exactly why we must do it.” You leaned forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, if you hate it, you can just wipe it off. Where’s the harm?” Glorfindel sighed dramatically, closing his eyes as if in deep thought. He was pretending to be reluctant, but you knew you were winning. “Fine,” he relented at last, “but if I end up looking ridiculous, you owe me a week’s worth of tea.”

“Deal.” You beamed, grabbing his chin gently to tilt his face toward you. “Now, hold still, my golden lord.” Glorfindel let out a soft chuckle, but he obeyed, watching you through lidded eyes as you brought the eyeliner closer. The first touch of the pencil against his skin made him blink, but he quickly adjusted, remaining still. You traced the liner along his upper lash line, smudging it slightly at the corners.

The effect was immediate—his already brilliant blue eyes became even more piercing, framed by the dark contrast. You took a step back, admiring your handiwork. “Oh. Oh, this is good.” Glorfindel arched a brow. “That sounds either promising or concerning.”

You grabbed a small mirror and held it up to him. He studied his reflection, tilting his head slightly. His lips pressed together as if he were trying not to admit something. Finally, he exhaled and gave you a side-eyed glance. “I look… rather dashing, don’t I?” You grinned. “See? Told you.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. You win this round.” He paused, then smirked. “But if Ecthelion sees this, I will tell him it was all your doing.”

“Perfect. Then I’ll convince him to try it next.” Glorfindel chuckled, standing up. As he turned to leave the room, he paused by the mirror once more, subtly adjusting his hair. You caught the motion and stifled a giggle. Yes, he liked it more than he’d admit. As Glorfindel studied his reflection, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. He turned to you with a glint of amusement in his bright blue eyes, then dramatically placed a hand on his hip, tilting his head ever so slightly.

With exaggerated elegance, he struck a pose, flipping a golden lock over his shoulder. “Well then,” he said, voice rich with mock seriousness, “do I make a pretty woman?” You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying (and failing) to stifle your laughter. “Oh, absolutely stunning. The fairest maiden in all of Imladris.”

Glorfindel gave an exaggerated sigh, fluttering his lashes. “Alas, beauty such as mine is both a blessing and a curse.” He placed a dramatic hand against his forehead as if about to swoon. You snorted. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” He dropped the act just enough to smirk at you. “You started it.” With one last playful twirl—his golden hair catching the light like spun sunlight—Glorfindel laughed, shaking his head. “You’re terrible for my dignity.”

“And yet, you keep me around.”

“A regrettable yet inevitable truth.” He grinned before throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Now, tell me—where do we parade my newfound beauty first?”

[sallysavestheday]

Come Dance with Me (and with the Elves)

It's springtime in my hemisphere, and - notwithstanding everything else, which...yeah - part of me feels a little brighter as a result. So let's dance!

I imagine dance as an essential element of Elvish expression (what does your body do when the Song calls you?) and I never get tired of exploring that in writing. Sometimes it's tender, sometimes it's melancholy, sometimes it's angsty, but it's always a delight to write.

Have a few of my related ficlets:

The Fire of the World (T: 450 words). Maedhros and Fingon, discovering one another.

So We Rise (G: 350 words). Elenwë and Vanyarin dance.

Come Round Right (G: 600 words). Idril and Glorfindel, with dance as a bridge-builder.

The Body Speaks Where Words Cannot (G: 600 words). More Glorfindel, Idril, and an appreciative Ecthelion, finding joy in dance in Gondolin.

A New Thread in the Weave (G: 500 words). Indis dances down the mountain to be married to Finwë. Fëanor receives her.

Exodus (G: 300 words). Maglor's dramatic exit.

Enjoy!

[nighttimepatrons]

The Trial of Glorfindel

altered lyrics of The Trial of Lancelot by Heather Dale

King Turgon's lords, they lined the Counsel Hall Save for one who stood before them For once without a weapon, for once he stood in shame The trial's charge was treason and betrayal of an oath, And should his guilt be proven death would fall on traitors both; The lords would counsel Turgon's hard decision. And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I'm tried for love of Erestor, My crime was love.” The first to speak was Rog with sharpest tongue, “He is an elf like any other, The word of kings command him, his heart does not obey For all his strength and boldness this lord's fea is too weak. His crime has no excuses and no favours may he seek; The laws of kings don't bend and can't be broken.” And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I stand for love of Erestor, For pride in love.” “I know this lord right well,” spoke bold Ecthelion, “And he has ever stood beside me, With steel he's answered insults, defended chivalry And oft this elf contended for the honour of your spouse His actions were not proper but should not cost him his life; His service past should earn of you some mercy.”

And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I fought for love of Erestor, I'll fight for love.” Sir Maeglin spoke, “I love Tuor’s dear wife. For her I gladly suffer, she is my heart's delight Idril, the one who tempts me and she for whom I'm pure, My love for her confounds me and is all of which I'm sure; I understand my comrade's contradictions.” And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I cry my love for Erestor, I've cried for love.” Spoke Egalmoth, the purest of them all, “Have no fear of predilection, For though he is my father, he is my source of shame. He joined in sinful union with my unbeguiling mother, And for all his claim at virtue he has gone and bed another; The laws of Eru declare this act damnation.” And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I lie in love with Erestor, I've lied for love.” As Turgon wept, he called the wrath of Ulmo On the lovers who'd betrayed him On the lord he had called brother, thought worthy of his trust On the spouse who'd hid deception yet could say he loved him still; For lost innocence and beauty And in justice for their guilt; King Turgon knew the only price for treason. And Glorfindel, his head held high, Said, “I'll die in love with Erestor. I'd die for love.”

𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

This has been in my little document for months! I really wanted to make an animatic for this but let's be real that is never going to happen.

I've seen a few Glorestor fics where Glorfindel and Erestor meet in Gondolin, but I imagine for this they meet before the great city is founded. Though things end in Gondolin.

I adore Heather Dale and I cannot listen to her songs without thinking about my beloved elves. hehehe :)

Soon to be posted Fingon and Maedhros Thingol and Melien

[iriysse]

✏️ give me five with Ody and whoever. It is bound to be hilarious.

enable me

Odysseus: See, the problem is, Aredhel, you’re playing 3D chess. I’m playing 4D. Aredhel: I’m playing checkers. I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing.

---

Odysseus: look Glorfindel, I'm not slut shaming you but… Odysseus: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

---

Maeglin: I can't imagine what Odysseus is planning. But I can tell you two things. We won't like it and it won't be legal.

---

Arakano: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Odysseus, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

---

Maedhros: Alright, so the vampire's gravestone is— Odysseus: Cenotaph. Maedhros: What? Maedhros: It's only a gravestone if it marks the location of a body. A monument honouring someone whose body isn't present is a cenotaph. Maedhros: I'm… not sure that's how it works if the body gets up and walks away on its own. Odysseus: There's a precedent for gravestones being reclassified as cenotaphs if the body is later removed and reinterred elsewhere. There's no rule that says the body itself can't do the removing. Maedhros: Okay, but the body is very much coming back. That's kind of what we're here to accomplish. Odysseus: So it's a temporary cenotaph. Maedhros: And naturally our greatest concern here is avoiding semantic ambiguity. Odysseus: Semantic ambiguity is how vampires get you.

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Odysseus: Nothing feels better than winning Monopoly. Not love, not sex, not free pizza, nothing! Glorfindel: I’m sorry, have you tried pizza? Odysseus: Yes, and it doesn’t compare to owning half the board and watching the light die from your friend’s eyes as you take their money and feel your friendship slowly deteriorate. Ecthelion: I like you.

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Ecthelion: Did you bring Glorfindel? Maeglin, gesturing to Egalmoth: No, but I brought the next best thing. Ecthelion: Egalmoth? The next best thing would be Odysseus. Egalmoth: I would be offended, but Odysseus is freakishly strong.