#Gil fell first

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey:) do you know the Hanahaki Disease?

It would be very interesting if you would write a prompt about Gil getting this disease! It will get pretty badly in the next weeks (Gil can’t tell her that he loves her, she has to find it out herself) and Thena tries to help him. Maybe she realizes that it’s her who he loves when he is very close to dying, having a hard time breathing because he is chocking and coughing flowers and blood.

Would be intense Angst/comfort. You decide if there is an happy ending :)

"How is he?"

Sersi sighed, turning to Thena, who had been in to see Gil constantly since he'd first shown signs of Hanahaki. "You know what I'm going to say."

Thena shrivelled. She did know; ever since Gil had first coughed up that first flower, it had only gotten worse. And Thena had been miserable ever since.

"It's not just buds anymore, Thena," Sersi frowned, holding up one such specimen with some blood at the edge of its petals, "they're full blossoms, now."

Thena grasped the blooming white rosebud, stained red around its edge. Roses were one of the deadliest forms of Hanahaki. The prognosis was not good, to say the least. "Oh, Gil."

"I'll leave you two alone," Sersi whispered softly, resting a hand on Thena's shoulder. "He doesn't have long, I'm afraid. Just...just be here with him."

Thena sat herself right next to Gil, watching the laboured rise and fall of his chest, his face twisted in discomfort as he tried to breathe. She took his hand in hers, "oh, Gil, I'm so sorry."

She had been beside herself when he'd first started coughing. It had lasted weeks, and he had refused to admit that it was more than just a cold. It was all the evidence she needed, and it didn't take her long to catch him coughing up the petals.

At first they were small--little bud petals that were annoying, but mild, all things considered. And Thena was furious, demanding to know who had done this to him (who wasn't returning his affections and letting him suffer).

"Just tell me!"

"You know I can't," he'd argued back at her, and it was the only time she could ever remember him even remotely raising his voice at her.

She had looked up Hanahaki extensively, gone to see experts, read books. But the material didn't vary much, and the end result was always the same: if Gil's love wasn't returned and expressed to him, the flowers would take root in his lungs, and he would...

Thena swiped away a few tears, raising his hand to her lips as he slept. She couldn't imagine what he was going through, but the thought of having to go through life without him was taking up a lot of her head. It was selfish, she knew, not just to Gil, but to whomever had done this to him. She just wished she knew who it was.

Their friends didn't seem to have any idea. They all just got these sad, pitying looks on their faces whenever she brought it up (so she had stopped doing so).

If someone else had contracted Hanahaki because of Gil--that she would understand. Gil was sweet, and charming, and funny, everything a girl could want. And more than that, he was so deeply caring about everyone around him. He really had the biggest heart of anyone she had ever known, and he was loyal, and devoted to a fault.

Who was it that had stolen Gil's heart?

Thena frowned at herself. They hadn't stolen it--it was his to give. She just didn't know...why hadn't he told her? They shared everything! He would have mentioned someone he liked, long, long before Hanahaki could set in...wouldn't he?

Gil's face twisted as his chest shook again. He coughed in his sleep, his throat clenching.

"Gil," Thena sniffled, rubbing his chest as he groaned. "Let it out."

Gil choked, a few petals flying from his mouth, also sheer white. He turned over, coughing out the rest of the rose head before lying back again.

"I'm so sorry," Thena whispered, at a loss for what else to do. Her poor Gil was suffering and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.

And she had thought about it. If she could find whomever had done this to her Gil and force them to love him, then she would officiate their impromptu wedding herself. Anything to put an end to Gil's pain.

But the thought kept bringing up a rather uncomfortable pain in her own chest. She had dismissed it as her sympathies time and time again. But eventually, she had to wonder if that was what really was bothering her.

She had been so focused on learning about Hanahaki in its early stages. But in her sudden and unusual distance from Gil, she had discovered a kind of..uncomfortable feeling.

Who was it that Gil loved? And why wasn't it her?

She had only let the thought cross her mind a few times. She had no right, she told herself. They were friends--the very best of friends. They shared everything with each other, and she was so shocked when he started showing signs of the flowery death that she threw herself into denial.

How could she not have noticed any signs of him falling in love? How did she not even know who it was? And why had she cried when she thought about Gil being in love with someone?

She had been by his side for so long. She knew everything about him, and even things he wasn't sure of himself. His voice was like music and his presence was like the air she needed to breathe.

Why hadn't Gil fallen in love with her?

Thena nestled her face against his shoulder, holding his hand and listening to the whistle of his lungs. It was so ridiculous--now that he was dying, she had lost her chance to love him. Because why love him now just to watch him suffer?

But she couldn't help it.

She loved him. How could she not love him? It was Gil--her sweet Gilgamesh. Her sweet Gil, who would make them food, who would talk with her for hours, who swore he would always be there with her. She had never questioned if she loved Gil before. She thought it was a given.

But apparently he loved someone else, and the flowers in his airway were evidence of that.

Thena brushed her finger over his cheeks. She could see the pallor of his skin, the way his veins were trying to adjust to the disease. Flowers would start bursting through his skin the closer to death he got. Her beautiful Gil would only be more beautiful in death.

Thena moved closer, kissing along his cheek--everywhere she could see the light line of an angry red vein. Why bother trying not to love him, now? She was in love with him, just in time for him to leave her.

"I hope it's quiet," she whispered over him as she kissed his forehead. "I hope it's not painful."

Another kiss.

"I hope I get it next," she admitted without shame, kissing his other cheek. "I hope I find you again."

She kissed away the blood at the corners of his lips.

"I hope you love me in the next life."

Thena leaned over him, pressing her lips to his and tasting the sweet, airiness of roses on him. She vaguely wondered what flower she would grow in her lungs without Gil beside her. Maybe something to remind her of him, like a robust zinnia, or perhaps an orange blossom, to remind her that she would love him far past a single eternity.

"I hope whomever did this to you is suffering tenfold."

"That seems a little harsh."

"Gil?" Thena gasped, sitting up at the melodious sound of his voice. She released her hold on him to look at him properly.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching up to swipe her tears away. He coughed faintly, but no flowers emerged.

"A-Are you," Thena blinked, not daring to believe it as he coughed without a single petal emerging, "are you okay?"

"Better than I was, that's for sure," he even smiled at her, some colour returning to his skin and the redness of his veins fading.

"Gil, I mean it," Thena asserted, her lip wobbling and her eyes unable to stop her tears. She held his cheeks in her hands, trembling as if on the precipice of shattering. "You can't say this and then...and then leave-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Thena," he promised her solemnly, taking one of her hands in his and pulling it to his lips. "Especially not now."

"Oh, Gil," she sighed before leaning in, pressing her lips to his. His hand moved to tangle in her hair, just as desperate to hold her to him. He still tasted like roses. "I love you."

"Just in time," he smiled between kisses, her pulling him closer but unwilling to move him.

"Thena!" Sersi burst back inside. As much as she might like to imagine giving them a sweet moment alone with their lovely revelations, she still had a patient to see. "Thena, it happened!"

"Hey," Gil waved at her, holding Thena's weeping form to his chest on the bed with him. And true enough, signs of Hanahaki were already fading, including any and all specimens of the buds he had coughed up.

"Sersi," Thena looked up, still crying with elation, "is it really gone?"

Sersi smiled, moving Thena away from Gil as gently as possible to place her stethoscope on his chest. She moved it around a few times, looking at Thena clinging to Gil's hands as she did. "That's one hell of a heart rate, but your lungs are clearer than they've ever been."

She was about to tell Thena that the Hanahaki had cleared itself up nicely, but Thena was already in Gil's arms again, kissing his face all over. "I'll leave you two alone."

[goldammerchen]

Gilbert, taunting young Ludwig: You haven't "graduated" from horse riding until you have a nasty accident!

(Ludwig has an horrific riding accident)

Gilbert:

(High pitched) LUTZ!

[irrec]

Because I always feel like running

Not away, because there is no such place Because, if there was I would have found it by now

Because it's easier to run, Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one...who didn't run

Because running will be the way your life and mine will be described As in "the long run" Or as in having given someone a "run for his money" Or as in "running out of time"

Because running makes me look like everyone else, though I hope there will ever be cause for that

Because I will be running in the other direction, not running for cover

Because if I knew where cover was, I would stay there and never have to run for it Not running for my life, because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear

Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from, Not without showing the fear as I see it now

Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer

Because of you and because of that nice That you quietly, quickly be causing

And because you're going to see me run soon and because you're going to know why I'm running then You'll know then

Because I'm not going to tell you now

[irisseireth]

I need you all to know that the poem of the Fall of Gil-Galad lives rent free in my head and has since I was at least like, 12.

That is all

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Lost and Found on The Isle

Prompt: Y/N escapes her cruel life in Auradon and finds herself on the Isle of the Lost, where she unexpectedly finds love and acceptance among villains, especially in the arms of a certain pirate.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1250

Average reading time: 4 min 35 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warning: This story contains themes of isolation, harassment, emotional distress, and the challenges of feeling like an outsider. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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In a world filled with royals, in a place called Auradon, where everything seemed perfect on the surface, lived a girl named Y/N. Her life, however, was far from ideal. Treated as an outcast and burdened by the cruelty of her peers, Y/N felt like a shadow amongst the vibrant crowd. The isolation weighed heavily on her, and she longed for escape a place where she might find acceptance and a sense of belonging.

One stormy night, Y/N made her decision. She packed a few belongings and slipped away, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Her destination? Well... The Isle of the Lost, the dark and dangerous place where Auradon’s discarded villains and their children resided. It was a risky move, but it was her last chance in the hope of finding something different.

As she arrived, the Isle lived up to its reputation. The streets were grimy, the buildings crooked, and the people suspicious. Y/N’s fear only grew with each step. She was an outsider in a world that didn’t welcome her. Wandering through the streets, she found herself cornered by a group of rough-looking guys. Their intentions were clear, and Y/N's heart raced with panic.

Just as the situation grew tense, a loud sound cut through the tension. Uma, the fierce sea witch and leader of the Isle’s pirate crew, emerged from the shadows, followed closely by her loyal crew members Harry Hook and Gil. Uma’s commanding presence and Harry’s rough charm quickly got rid of the threat, and the attackers scattered like roaches under a spotlight.

Y/N’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. Harry, with his signature smirk, approached her, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he saw her terrified state. Uma looked on with a mix of curiosity and amusement, while Gil hovered nearby, ever-ready to support his friends.

“Didn’t expect to find a damsel in distress tonight,” he said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He extended a hand to her, which Y/N hesitantly took. “Name’s Harry Hook. And these fine pirates are Uma and Gil. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Uma’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she gestured to the group. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

In the safety of Uma’s hideout, Y/N felt a strange sense of relief mingled with anxiety. The Isle was rough, but it was also intriguing. Harry, in particular, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He noticed the way she flinched at sudden movements and how her gaze darted around nervously.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N grew closer. They spent time together exploring the Isle, and Harry, with his charismatic pirate charm, showed Y/N the hidden wonders of their world, the secret hideaways and the beauty behind the grim facade. One evening, as they strolled along the mist covered docks, Harry casually slipped his arm around Y/N’s waist. She stiffened at first but then relaxed into his touch, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Harry’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You know, darling, this place looks a bit more enchanting with you by my side.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him. “You always know how to make everything sound so content, so perfect.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with affection as he leaned in closer. “That’s because with you, everything is perfect.”

One day, while Y/N was wandering alone, a gang of troublemakers started to harass her. They advanced with menacing grins, no trace of remorse for what they are about to do, and Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Just as she was about to give in to the panic filling her chest. Harry appeared, his expression fierce. He pushed through the crowd, his protective stance clear as he positioned himself between Y/N and the intruders.

“Back off,” Harry growled, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that left no room for argument. “She’s with me.”

The intruders, clearly intimidated by Harry’s status, fierce glare and confident demeanor, backed away, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the shadows. Harry turned to Y/N, his eyes softening as he gently reached out to caress her cheek. “Are you alright, darling?”

Y/N nodded, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “I… I didn’t think anyone would come.”

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, his strong arms enveloping her. “I’ll always come for you. You don’t have to be afraid here.”

As their relationship blossomed, so did their affection. Harry would surprise Y/N with stolen kisses during shared meals, as they walked through the market, or even as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. One night, under the starlit sky, they lay together on a blanket by the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as Harry pulled Y/N close.

“Look at those stars,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “They’re nothing compared to how you light up my life.”

Y/N turned to face him, her heart aching with love and uncertainty. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re here with me. That someone like you would choose someone like me.”

Harry cupped her face gently in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "You're not just anyone, darling. You're my everything. I chose you because you make me feel things villains aren't supposed to feel. You make me see the world in a way I never knew I could."

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, filled with the promise of a future they could build together. Harry’s hands roamed lovingly over her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

As their relationship progressed, Uma began to see Y/N’s value beyond just Harry’s affection. She had witnessed Y/N’s bravery and kindness and saw how Y/N fit seamlessly into her crew. One day, Uma called Y/N to her quarters, her expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” Uma began, her tone steady, “you’ve proven yourself to be more than just a lost soul here. You’ve got spirit and heart, and you’ve earned your place.”

Y/N looked at Uma with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “What do you mean?”

Uma smiled slightly, a rare show of warmth. “I’m offering you a spot on my crew. You belong here, and you’ve shown that you’re capable of more than you know. You’ve got the grit and the grace we need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, Uma. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Uma said with a nod. “Just keep being yourself. That’s all we need.”

With Uma’s approval, Y/N felt a renewed sense of belonging. She continued to grow closer to Harry, their love flourishing amidst the challenges. Whenever danger threatened, Harry was always there, his protective nature evident in every gesture. He would wrap his arms around her, pulling her close during moments of fear, his kisses always a reminder of his devotion.

As the days turned into months, Y/N and Harry’s love blossomed. They faced challenges together, each obstacle only strengthening their bond. In the heart of the Isle of the Lost, amidst the chaos and shadows, Y/N and Harry discovered a love that was pure and unshakeable, a love that healed old wounds and built new dreams. And in that love, Y/N finally found the acceptance and happiness she had always longed for, wrapped in the arms of a pirate who had stolen her heart and made her feel truly cherished.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

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[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

We already talked about the blood binding, the crown and the devil smile, but there’s a side to the Sauron and Galadriel’s fight that I don’t see mentioned. And that’s Sauron desire to show off how powerful he truly is.

This is not Sauron “being cute”: this is him humiliating Galadriel, actually. Because she’s giving her everything here and he’s just there, entertaining “her nonsense” without breaking a sweat. He allows her to indulge in her “galloping” and violent shenanigans, because it amuses him, he doesn’t takes it seriously. And also because she humiliated him by rejecting him, and now he wants to do the same thing to her.

Galadriel likes to feel powerful, she’s the mighty commander of the Northern armies, she’s Noldor royalty, she’s legendary on Middle-earth, and looked upon with respect and reverence. And Halbrand did made her feel powerful in Season 1. She did wanted to use him for her own ends, and even if she fell in love with him, it doesn’t change her core goals (everyone conveniently forgets this because he turned out to be Sauron). Galadriel is not an hopeless victim here.

And Sauron is doing the opposite of that in this scene because he’s petty, and wants to rub it in her face. There is no worship here. Because Sauron is getting into his “I’m a god” plot on his character arc; he thinks he’s outgrowing the Maia, when, in fact, he’s getting back into Morgoth’s service. And that’s how he self-deceives himself; he thinks he’s doing good (healing Middle-earth) and escaping his bounds to Morgoth, when it’s the other way around.

Galadriel is no match for Sauron, and he wants her to know that. Nor is any other Elf, Men or Dwarf, for that matter. I see this fandom really underestimating just how powerful Sauron truly is. The only being with equal power in “Rings of Power” is Gandalf. And Sauron is not at the peak of his power yet (not even Gandalf, for that matter). I’ve read people call him “pathetic” or how Galadriel was kicking his ass? You are way off mark here, folks. He’s dominating her in this scene.

In the War of the Last Alliance, both Elendil and Gil-galad manage to weak Sauron because he’s already weakened; he’s formless and bound to the One Ring. and that’s why Celebrimbor says that, at the end, one ring will be Sauron’s ruin, because he’s it slave. In “The Hobbit”, Galadriel manages to banish him to Mordor because he doesn’t have the One Ring, and it takes all of her power to do it. What we are seeing in “Rings of Power” is Sauron rise and fall from power.

He does this on purpose. He knows Galadriel will attack him. And she does just that. He knows her mind, after all.

This is a face of “you want to play? Let’s play.” This is game to him. Why? Because he also knows just how much Galadriel craves power. And he deludes himself into thinking that, by showing off just how powerful he is, it might make her reconsider joining him. Odd way of thinking, but that’s Sauron for you.

Until this happens:

Not only she goes for the face, but she rejects him, again. And that’s when Sauron snaps, and he gets violent for real. He’s not longer amused by this. He’s pissed, now. Why? Because Mairon’s love of beauty is corrupted into vanity when he’s Sauron. And Galadriel dared not only to kick him in the face but to cut him. And rejected his power, as if he isn’t powerful enough to her liking.

And then he does what he came there to do, in the first place. He forces them to bind together, and brutally, too. Some have mentioned the subtext here is r*pe, and they are correct. And when she fights back, he gets even more brutal.

And this moment:

This is a silent conversation between them. And we probably only understand what’s truly happening here at the end of Season 3.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

All the Kings horses

Summary: When your injured in Eregion Gil-Galad has to confess his feelings.

There may be a smutty sequel to this in time but for now enjoy another shorter fic.

This morning you were reveling in the beauty of Lindon, admiring the golden leaves drifting through the gentle breeze and singing songs of hope and love with your kin. Now you sat on horse back, clad in your silver armor and preparing to march to Eregion.

You rode just behind your dear friend Elrond with the High King beside him. As the current captain of the King's guard had been sent with most of Lindon's forces to march into Mordor it fell to the few left to take up his mantle. The responsibility weighed heavy on your mind. Sure you weren't the only one who would be ensuring his safety but to you it was a personal matter.

You'd met the young High King when you were a simple foot soldier. You had fought under his banner against the forces of Morgoth. There you saw him on the battle field, his broad form clashing against the enemy. His spear glinting in the light as he spun it with a grace that left you speechless. He was every bit the King you'd imagined and when his firm grasp clasped your hand to help you rise, you swore you'd fight for him until the end.

It had been an age since then and you were sure he had not remembered one soldier from such a battle. Still he had always treated you with respect despite your low rank. Asking your opinion on trivial matters, or sharing with you a book or two to enjoy in your free time.

When the horses stopped to rest, you dismounted and took your post. You were unsure why you'd been ordered to stand guard inside the King's tent. The honor rightfully should have gone to higher ranked guard but you were not about to question your temporary captain. Not when the power had gone right to her head and not when it let you gaze at your King.

Elrond entered and you bowed your head to him with a smirk but there was no levity to be found. His face was serious as he placed a hand on your shoulder. He passed on to speak to your King and you were left feeling more apprehensive about the battle to come.

It was a bad omen indeed and when the fighting began you stayed back with King GIl-Galad and a few of the guards. As Elrond had explained they need only fend off the orcs until dawn. By then Prince Durin would've brought his army from Khazad-dum for much needed reinforcements. Too many had already fallen and you felt your hands itch for your sword.

"Enough!" Your King growled. "I will not stand by as my people are slaughtered."

There was no argument, none of the guards dared disobey and from the firm nods of your kin you knew it was settled. You rode in formation, the bow man taking out threats as you made your way into the fray.

From horse back you struck down at closing in orcs, keeping yourself between them and your King. As your group neared the cleared river bed the bow man was struck. You'd barely known him, just another face you passed in your duties but you'd done so for 200 years. Now that face struck the wet ground with a snap you could hear over the cries of battle. There was a shout and the elleth flanking the King went flying off her horse as it fell. You rode on, catching a glimpse of her fighting against a gathering group of orcs.

You stayed by King Gil-Galad through the night, fighting by his side as the field grew quieter. You met Elrond on the field, loosing a throwing knife to strike an assailant coming up behind him. You lost your 2nd and 3rd in close combat, to the eye and toe of orcs.

You lost the last when it became lodged in the skull of an orc that almost clipped the King's armor. You'd had it in hand and leapt onto the beast, knocking it down and stabbing up through the mouth. You heaved in deep breathes, the prolonged fight starting to wear on you and rose from off the corpse.

Gil-Galad stood, haloed by the first light of dawn. His hair loose and glowing stands dancing in the breeze. Morning had come and a horse stood on the hill. Vorohil had returned and worse for wear. Despite the arrows he managed to ride to you, collapsing into Elrond but he brought no comfort. The dwarves were not coming.

Still your King called you to ranks and the battle continued. Each sword slash felt like you were trying to stop the flow of a great river. No matter how many fell the fight never stopped. You were pushed back past the wall into Eregion, baring witness to the city in ruins. You could not abandon hope now however, with each moment you fought on those within the city were granted time to escape.

Pain erupted from your leg, an arrow piercing into the flesh of your thigh. You screamed before blocking the orc approaching, crashing your head past the joint blades and crushing their nose with your helm. It fell loose and clattered against the stone path, rolling to stop by the feet of an approaching horde.

You stepped back, meeting your King against you. In a moment of silent connection you knew he was seeing much the same thing. You'd lost sight of Elrond some streets back and hoped that somehow he'd appear now. Slaying his way to rescue his King.

You fought on but in the narrow passage you lost your sword. You heard Gil-Galad call your name but you couldn't see him in the mass of orc's beating down on you.

Your mind seemed to swim in to the depths, going dark and blank for many minutes at a time before you surfaced for a moment. In blinks it seemed you went from face down on the carved stone of the street to your arms painfully gripped as your limp body dragged after you. Flashes of carnage, orc, elf, blood, viscera, all blurring into a collage of suffering. In the dark of your mind you smelt burning but couldn't draw the strength to open your eyes. The warm sensation trickling from your hairline, down your face was a likely culprit.

"Lord Sauron said we don't need these ones..." A nasally voice spoke near by.

Your hair was pulled painfully, jolting your head back and for a moment you could see again. Gil-Galad, your King and the only elf to ever take such root in your heart, strained against his captors. Something cold touched your throat but in the haze you were back in Lindon, receiving your armor for the first time since the war. Elrond was there too, shouting, congratulations maybe? Everything was perfect and tranquil. The leaves fell gently on the wind and you shut your eyes.

When they opened again all you knew was pain. So loud it thrummed in your head that all else seemed drowned out by it. You groaned against it, shifting to try assess cause. A large hand landed on your shoulder and you flinched.

"Apologies." A strained voice spoke withdrawing. "Just take a moment."

Your hand came up to your face, rubbing against the brightness of the light ahead. It came away with russet flakes sticking to your fingers.

"And perhaps we don't reopen our head wounds while we're at it." Gil-Galad's voice came crisper now.

"Wher..." You began, jolting suddenly and reaching for your missing sword.

Gil-Galads hands took your own, encompassing them with ease and radiating in you such calm that you forgot your pounding heart.

"Safe, my dearest friend." He smiled, brighter than the sun and no less warm.

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his words. You'd think it was some trick of your injured head but his hands were still holding your own and his face a serene mask. His eyes left your own for a moment, focusing on your lap as his thumb brushed gently over your bruised knuckles.

"I thought I may have lost you. That years of deluding myself that it was for our best interest that I say nothing, would have robbed me of this chance." Gil-Galad murmured.

He didn't sound himself and you began to worry. You shifted your hands in his to clasp them. You gave a reassuring squeeze and kept focused on his softening features. His brow lifted and those dark eyes met your own again.

"Please, If this isn't what you wish say the word and you will never hear another syllable about it." Gil-Galad promised but you kept your lips sealed.

"I have loved you too long from afar. I wish for you to be by my side from now until the end of all things. I wish to hear you sing and laugh and tell those awful jokes that you tell when you think I'm not listening. I want all of you and all I have to give is me and my burdens." Gil-Galad professed.

You had no words, no eloquent speech of your own just a hand taken and laid on his shoulder and lips pressed to his own. Gil-Galad responded in kind, his hand coming to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

"They are no burdens." You manage between kisses. "Not when shared with you."

This seems to spur him on, nipping at your lower lip and moving his hand up into your hair. You hiss suddenly, pulling back as the reminder of your pain pulses to life again.

"Sorry my love." Gil-Galad apologises with a chaste kiss to your temple. "There will be time when you're healed."

You pout at this, earning a hearty laugh and another soft kiss against your lips. You supposed you'd waited this long for him, what was another day.

[prying-pandora666]

Rings of Power is Insidiously Sexist

And I’m tired of pretending none of us can see it.

If you enjoy the show, please don’t take this as an attack on you. All media has problematic elements and we all do the best we can in a messed up world. My ire is reserved strictly for the people making these “creative” choices.

The way the show treats Galadriel is misogynistic.

Turning the kind, matronly sage imbued with divine wisdom by the light of the two trees into a naive, selfish hothead who gets ship baited with both the villain AND her son-in-law for titillation is incredibly sexist.

They wouldn’t have had Elrond kiss his father-in-law to “save” him. Everyone would’ve rightfully been disgusted. So why is it okay to do this to Galadriel?

Elrond wouldn’t kiss Gil-Galad, or Celebrimbor, or his bff Durin to “save” them. We would all recognize this as sloppy OOC writing just meant to stir up shippers. So why is it acceptable to do to Galadriel? Being a female character is not an invitation to use her as fan service ship bait. Not once but TWICE.

The way the score swells and the kiss is deep and framed as romantic (even though he’s handing her something and didn’t need to shove himself on her like that at all!), despite the fact that Galadriel is married and elves are by nature monogamous (so much so that forcing yourself on them can even KILL them). As if everything about the narrative framing is subconsciously telling you to ignore Galadriel’s POV and the discomfort she would be feeling and be moved by how “meaningful” this kiss is. But also it’s a deception so don’t get mad! So incredibly transparent.

The fact that they also made her an arrogant idiot that fell for Sauron’s manipulations, when in Tolkien’s canon she is described as one of first to see through him, is also a telling choice. Especially when it would’ve made more sense to have Celebrimbor be the one manipulated and fooled.

So why have it be Galadriel? Why not do their weird ship-teasing bullshit between Annatar and Celebrimbor? At least it might serve the story then.

It’s because she is “female elf”, and therefore she has to be mean, violent, selfish, and stupid. But she isn’t allowed to be criticized either! That’s their idea of a “strong” female character.

So yeah. Personally I find that incredibly sexist.

So for that, I rate ROP a big old “cast it into the fire”.

[christnarr]

victor madness combat masterpost

everything we know about victor, a co-op exclusive project nexus character

theres a lot of things people dont know about them!! like their connection with the maker, how they interact with the audience, etc. however this information is intentionally kept obscure for narrative reasons (ill explain later) so its understandable if you didnt know about this

full post under the cut since its long ==v

SECTION 1: BURGER GILS

the first appearance of victor was on the official burger gils website, under the "updates" section

the first news update, #207, says that rich (a character we see in "power play") is no longer the employee of the month, thus giving the title to victor.

the next prominent update is #209, which states victor has mysteriously gone missing and gil is setting up a hotline for their return.

judging by the next and final update alluding to the fall of nexus city, and that they can "finally open their doors" due to health inspectors being inoperable, we can assume victor went missing beforehand since the restaurant was functioning at the time of the hotline being released.

the reason for their disappearance is still unknown, but that can lead us into the next and more important section:

SECTION 2: THE MAKER (YES, REALLY)

victor, by the laws of the universe, is not meant to exist in nevada. they are an anomaly.

similarly to the maker, they are likely trying to avoid being spotted by the machine or some other "indestructible nightmare".

we learned in a stream that the maker talks to victor, and won't allow their "story" to be told.

"maybe vic, but his story can't be told. the maker won't allow it. that's why the maker talks to vic all the time. he'll never get near the plot."

victor stays as far away from the narrative as possible, choosing to hide as a co-op exclusive character for MPN. krinkels always emphasizes that there's a meta reason for this. even in things like little doodles, victor seems to want to hide from the public eye.

victor reappeared after the city fell, and was found and taken into sq. there is a reason doc wanted victor to join sq, and that doc knows of their importance. however, krinkels wants to keep this part of the story untold too.

SECTION 3: PERSONALITY + ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

not much comments here since ill leave these up to interpretation. heres some dialogue + other things from them that show their personality.

thanks to CondescendingChaos48s self eater dialogue video for providing these :D - mpn devchat clip of wallium doing a victor voice impression - burger gil plushie ad, which victor appears in

-this screenshot

-victor may be the youngest of the main cast

-the burger gil arg, which victor briefly appears in (their involvement is described in the first section)

and thats all! do what you want with this info, i just want to shed light on stuff about victor that isnt as well known

[descendantofthesparrow]

could i ask for some sort of Harry Hook x reader where she overworks herself and faints? if not thats okay! thanks

here you go! i actually really had fun with this and wrote it within two hours :D

Request-takes place during ‘Rise of the isle of the lost’

=

The waves of the isle shore crashed against the dock, making for an almost pleasant background noise as the crew of the lost Revenge worked tirelessly to get it in working order for its voyage to the isle of the doomed.

Repairing the hull, plugging holes, fixing sails, gathering rope, swabbing the deck-every crew member was hands on deck as they raced around to get it ready in time; which had to be within the day, before anyone else could have a chance to get the trident that rested at the bottom of the bay.

“Raise those sails, make sure tha’t anchor is connected, don’t ye dare let that sludge get on the deck!” Harry ordered the crew, his brow furrowed as he paced the deck-Uma was in the chip shop, unable to command her new crew, though she was far less knowledgeable about being a pirate captain, so Harry-the appointed first mate-was the best man for the job to make sure everything was in top shape.

He was already covered in sludge, a tar-like substance that acted like waterproof superglue-he’d already worked to plug holes and replace some of the hull’s boards but now he needed the crew to finish up the ship before the end of the day.

He turned as he heard a slight struggle from the gangway, seeing (y/n) Smee, one of his oldest friends-even older than Uma-carrying a shit ton of rope for the sails. Harry frowned, seeing how red in the face she was and how exhausted she looked. He looked at his pocket watch, and while he couldn’t exactly tell time-he knew the lass had been working for probably seven hours straight.

“Smee,” Harry barked out, beelining it to her, putting his hands on her back and shoulders as she continued to tug the huge ropes onto the ship. (y/n) panted, tilting her head to look up at him, sweat dripping down her brow as she breathed heavily, almost heaving.

“Harry,” she panted out and Harry frowned, taking the rope from her hands and easily slinging the heavy ropes over his shoulder. “I was doing that,” (y/n) huffed and Harry just ignored her, tossing the ropes by the main mast where they needed to be.

“ye need ta’ take a break,” Harry demanded, grabbing (y/n)’s wrist and beginning to drag her off the ship towards the chip shop.

“I’m-fine-“ (y/n) said, pulling her wrist out of his hand with more force than necessary, and she suddenly felt dizzy and swayed. “-Harry-“ she managed to say before the feeling of fainting took over and her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell backward, hitting the railing of the gangplank and she went overboard.

Harry instantly reacted, not wasting a second as he dove over the rails and into the water after (y/n). “Man overboard!” Bonnie yelled and Gonzo raced to the ladder hanging off the port side of the ship and unlatched it, the ladder unraveling and landing in the water for Harry to climb back up on.

Harry grabbed (y/n)’s unconscious form and tugged her close, pushing off a jagged rock next to him and swimming back up to the murky surface, shaking the water off his face as he broke the surface and swam to the ladder with (y/n) in his arms, still unconscious.

“she okay?” Drey asked as Harry climbed up the latter with one hand, (y/n) limp against his side.

“she will be, she fainted from overworkin’ ‘erself.” Harry said, handing (y/n) to Gil as he reached the top and climbed onto the deck. He shook his head again and took (y/n) back from Gil. “all of ye, take a break, before someone else faints.” He ordered and stormed off the ship to the chip shop.

-

(y/n) woke up less than 20 minutes later, blinking awake to the feeling of a cold cloth on her head and lying down on Uma’s bed in Uma’s room that was above the chip shop. She groaned a bit, feeling like she had a wicked headache, and sat up; the wet cloth falling to her lap as she rubbed her face.

“There ye are,” she looked to her left, seeing Harry entering the room with a cup of water, handing it to her. “what did I say ‘bout overworkin’ yer’self?” Harry asked, sitting at her feet, and giving her a stern look. (y/n) huffed, drinking the water.

“I didn’t want to seem lazy,” she muttered and Harry rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick her forehead and she yelped, flinching her eyes closed. “hey!”

“Yer not lazy, yer not useless, just because you can't keep up physically as the rest of the crew don’t mean yer any less useful, ye just have different uses. Besides, ye helped enough in tha’ morning, and I had told ye ta help Uma in the chip shop instead.” Harry said, flicking her forehead again and she smacked his hand away, making him smirk.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” (y/n) muttered and Harry rolled his eyes, no shit. He instead scooped her up and carried her back down to the chip shop, (y/n) hitting his back on the way down. “put me down! Harrison James hook!”

Harry just snickered and dropped her in one of the chairs at the long table near the kitchen, grabbing a tray and dropping in front of her. “eat, take a break, stay ‘ere with Uma, I’ll be back when the ships done.” Harry ordered, pointing his hook at her as he swaggered out the chip shop.

(y/n) huffed, pouting a bit as some of the patrons chuckled and then turned back to their meals as Uma came out from the kitchen with a mean glare to silence them. “When has not listenin’ to him ever turned out well for you?” Uma snorted as she passed by (y/n), leaving a seaweed smoothie as she did. (y/n) just rolled her eyes, grumpily taking her break.

-end-

[elswing]

we got to see baby's first vilya foresight visions of despair and doom!!!!!!! Woooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!

i love that gil-galad's visions were so vague in comparison to galadriel's. shaky, confusing little shots of dying fish and indecipherable images, whereas nenya's guidance was far more specific and actually useful to the problems galadriel was currently facing. it would definitely make sense within the books' context on osánwë, which (badly) summarised is a type of telepathy that is possible when both parties are willing.

galadriel has spent the entire season vouching for the rings, so that's definitely not an issue on her front, but nenya seemed just as willing to choose her as its bearer (if not more so! it actively fell towards her the same way the one ring did when it was trying to be picked up by someone specific). since we can probably assume that narya did something similar with círdan when his boat rocked before he could toss the pouch (and he showed up already wearing it), that means the only reason gil-galad bears vilya is essentially because it was the only one left.

they weren't drawn together, neither of them chose the other. it would make sense that their bond would be weaker than that of the other ringbearers. there's definitely time for that to change since right now it seems that gil-galad is still a little distrustful/apprehensive of the rings, BUT since we also know he isn't the last person to wear it, it could mean we might eventually get a scene where vilya starts to show some interest in elrond

[softquietsteadylove]

Thenamesh actor au: a female co actress who has big interest in Gil and is constantly by his side and flirting. And Thena who is not amused at all.

Let the fun begin 😂

"Gil is so funny!"

Thena adjusted her dress over her knees, listening to Ashley - playing the queen to whom Gil was playing the guard - shower him with compliment after compliment. She hadn't been shy at all about how much she admired Gil for his action work.

She wasn't shy about grabbing his arm at every possible opportunity either.

The film was big--bigger than usual, and thus, so was the press circuit for it. Its more family friendly rating meant that they were expecting a pretty large profit from it, and were using its A-list cast to its full potential. The press and promotion just seemed to have no end, and it was making Thena extra irritable.

"Handsome too!"

That was it--that was why she was so cranky.

"Hey, come on," Gil shrugged, tugging at his blazer in his seat.

"I mean, I would feel pretty secure if I had a guard like this, right?" the host of the show asked the audience, who clapped obligingly.

Thena shifted from one arm of her chair to the other. It made it harder to see Gil, but then she wouldn't have to watch Ashley try grab another fistful of his bicep.

"And Thena!"

Oh, great.

"You play the fae queen, Titania," the host led with the context to their question. "And you end up at odds with queen Margaret, right?"

"Yes," Thena murmured, glancing down the line of seats, angled as it was. She put on a smile in her best attempt at civility. "We sort of combat each other conceptually, and it ends up bringing this great conflict to a head after what may be eons of time."

"It's a great scene in the final product," Ashley beamed. She had a natural ease to her, even in press releases like this. "Thena does these stunts that are, like--they're so cool, you'll just have to see them."

"Well, I can't wait," the host easily agreed. "And Gil, you've got plenty of stunt work, as always."

"Yeah, despite me taking the roll and being told I wouldn't," he joked, much to the audience's amusement. "But yeah, I ended up having a lot of fun in that last action scene."

"Now, with two queens battling head to head," the host gestured between the two women next to each other and then gave him a little grin, "who would you really pick?"

The audience let out an intrigued 'oooh'.

Gil glared at the host; it was a good question, he just didn't want to answer it. "Come on--no spoilers."

The audience laughed again. Thena smiled to herself, although she startled as Ashley let out a loud laugh next to her. She just barely kept herself from rolling her eyes as the sandy-blonde actress leaned over in her chair to lean against Gil as she laughed.

Gil squirmed.

"Ah, yes, that's a wise answer," the host laughed in good nature. "Maybe we should have put you in the middle, so no one could assume anything."

"Yeah, y'know what-"

Now, Thena laughed.

Gil stood from his chair and picked it up, pulling Ashley's over to his previous spot loudly. He plunked his chair down between them, taking a definitive seat with an actress at either side of him. He looked at her, though. "That's better."

"Is it?" she asked him rhetorically, really teasing him about the super necessary move.

Gil smiled, "much."

"It's rather rude to redecorate for our host," Thena continued to tease him, both of them leaning on the arms of their chairs, chins leaned into their palms.

"Hey, I'm just keeping opinions neutral, here," Gil replied easily, happy just to have some easy conversation in the middle of the overly rehearsed interview questions. "Besides, they asked me a very tough question. This is how I'm keeping the peace."

"Ah yes," Thena laughed quietly, batting her eyelashes at him, "very diplomatic."

The host looked at Ashley, now the closest actor in line, "yes, very impartial seeming."

The audience laughed, but Thena and Gil didn't even seem to notice the remark about them.

Ashely offered a bright smile and a shrug, "they're always like this. They're inseparable."

"Even as his queen?"

Ashley nodded, though, taking the reins of the interview as Gil and Thena continued to flirt for all the world to see. "I have a few scenes with Gil in the movie, and he's an amazing scene partner. But there's this one shot in the final cut--I can't really tell you anything about it. But, I mean, you'll know it when you see it. It explains...so much."

[hollowaluminumvessel]

Post-114 (Still Not Ferin Well) headcanons 🤗

long post, Hcs for gillion, Jay and chibo under the cut ♥

Gillion(real)

-since his lay on hands wasn't an immediate reaction, all of his missing skin and the holes in his hands became scar tissue.

-once they got back to the ship and everything was calm again, his hair was soooo ratty and knotted. The crew spent ages combing it out, washing out the blood and grime, and making sure it was tied up next time they did something like that.

-when doppelgilly was voided and became a husk, Gillion felt bad. He knew that he shouldn't, he knew that doppelgilly was some evil copy of himself but doppelgilly looked, acted, and felt like himself. It was like looking in a mirror.

-to chip, Jay, and the rest of the crew, he has literally never looked worse. He looks exhausted, he looks beaten. To gil thoigh, he thinks that hes seen worse. He hasnt. The moment he was healed, they sent him to the tub.

-he nearly fell asleep in the elevator, and then while Jay and Gryffon helped with his hair.

-Gillion WILL have lasting trauma and you are NOT changing my mind. I mean no chance he doesn't right?? A Triton literally said to him, WHILE CHAINED, "YOU ABANDONED US." COME ON BRO THATS NOT EVEN THE WORST OF IT

-when Gil was first taken, his neck literally broke. It's verbally stated that if he hadn't casted death ward, he would literally be dead. And he was yanked upwards, as if he were hanged. That bitch should be DEAD AF DAWG. DEAD

Jay

-Jay is second guessing herself like the sky literally fell and it's her fault. She's questioning her role, her right to be a leader, even her life. She spends that night crying as quiet as she can. It felt good, she hasn't had a good silent sob session in a few months. She needed to let it out.

-When Jay put together that Gillion was actually doppelgillion, the loud noises started happening and she fuckin BOOKED IT over to the leviathan room. She got them into this mess, if she didn't get them out she'd never forgive herself.

-when gillion was sent to the tub and the rest of the crew left to do whatever they pleased, chip held Jay back. He told her that it wasn't all her fault. He said that he doesn't blame her for indulging on information about her sister, because why else are they going to the hole in the sea? For laughs? No, it's for chip to do the same thing. They hug then. And then they go about their day/night.

-Jay's hair is singed. When they finished with Gillions hair, they turn to Jay's and cut it as short as she'll let them. Her hair used to be around waist length, as she'd ignored it for a while, only doing so much as to brush it every morning and night to prevent knotting, and goddamn that shit was greasy. She wasn't the only one though so they didn't put it past her. Her hair after the cut is probably upper back to shoulder length. Queen comes along and helps her style it so she doesn't look stupid like she thinks she does.

-she denies that she likes it at all. She's lying and they all know it.

Chip

-im gonna be so fr with myself and say I haven't paid the most attention to chibo so if I get anything character-wise wrong, mercy 🙏

-chips bones are weaker now, some even broken from when he opened the drawer and the ringing rang. Griz said it splintered through his bones, I'm not letting that go

-anyway think like Hector from coco. Some bones are split and broken, some are being held together with medical tape, etc. Basically he's more broken than ever.

-in the fight with the holloweds on the ship. One of them managed to get a lucky shot right on the hole in his chest where his heart should be. Later that night, it burns. He scratches, he rubs, he does anything he can to make the burn go away but nothing works. It seems to have lessened the next day though, so he's not worried.

-theres discolored bruising around his neck where the slimy tongue is.

-on the same note, chip was being dragged much slower, so his neck didn't break, but he was held much tighter.

-when chip told Jay it wasn't her fault, it was all he could do to keep from crying. Because deep down, he thinks it was his. He's the one taking them to the hole, he's the one that brought them into this mess in the first place. He wished he'd never met anyone on this ship, so at least they'd be safe, home, and away from this. He's disappointed in himself. He's angry and sad and he's so upset that he's putting his crew through this nonsense.

-chip thinks the fact that doppelgilly pulled some of the worst cards back to back was hilarious. Then he looks at gillion later on and sees how he's contemplating and he rethinks. He doesn't really change his mind, but he rethinks.

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 3

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits)

Part 2

Part 3

The journey to Lindon had given her time to think, but even after several days on the road, Linnea’s thoughts remained a muddle.

Not that she doubted what had happened. It was real, as real as the earth beneath her feet and the air in her lungs and the water that fell from the sky, a light rain on the third day. It was as real as the fire she kindled at night to make her tea. 

But it was…so much.

She had nothing but time to think as they traveled, seated next to one of the soldiers on the small wagon that held her belongings. More than she'd thought, given the damage, but still - two wooden chests, and a large basket, were tiny remnants of her former life. 

The siege itself was a blur. When the trebuchets had begun to fire, there had been no organized efforts to help the citizens; every soldier had been needed for defense. She had fuzzy memories of her father and mother grabbing a few things, shoving them into bags, talking in hurried voices about the best way to try and get out - 

And then nothing. 

By the looks of things, their shop had been hit by a piece of the city wall falling directly on it. She had regained consciousness half-buried in rubble, with no sense of how much time had passed, and she had drifted in and out for what had seemed like hours, until the fighting had stopped. 

When it had, and she had heard the voices of the Elves searching for survivors, she had managed to pull herself free, even with the metal piercing her arm. But she had been able to do no more after that, just sitting there waiting for something to happen. 

Well. Something had happened.

Gil-galad. Ereinion. He’d found her, helped her. Sung to her as the healer had tended to her. His voice had been beautiful, low and soothing, distracting her from how much her arm had hurt.

Would he sing to their children the same way? 

The thought made her cheeks tingle, and she smiled.

Before Gil-galad had left with the majority of the army, he had assigned the promised escort to her: the two soldiers that had begun helping her go through the ruins of her shop, and two more. Three of the four were survivors from Eregion’s armies, and those three had looked slightly terrified at his stern orders.  

She will be your queen. I expect you will guard her as such.

Her family had been of little consequence - crafters, nothing more. No great lineage for her, no famous deeds or epic tales of her forebearers. Just weavers, for the last three generations, perfecting their craft over the centuries. Her parents had chosen each other in childhood and had married young, and Linnea had been their only child. 

And now they were gone. 

The smile faded from her face as the images flashed in her mind, of what they'd found as she and the soldiers had slowly cleared the rubble, moving the stone blocks of the city wall away from the crushed shop and the residence area behind it. 

At least they hadn't suffered. At least it had been quick. 

“Lady? Is all well?”

She’d caught the attention of the soldier driving the wagon that day, and wrenched herself free of her thoughts as she offered him a tentative smile. “It is. Thank you. How much further is it?”

The soldier looked up, evaluating the road ahead of them. “By my reckoning, at this pace we are yet three days from Lindon.”  

Linnea nodded. They were using every second of daylight available, departing the moment the sun touched the horizon each morning. The Elves could have continued well into the night, despite the soldiers still healing from their injuries, but their horses needed both sight and rest. And so each night at dusk, they made camp.

Which was another event that reminded her of how different her world was now.

Somehow, she never seemed to need to put up her own tent. Somehow, she never seemed to have to fetch water. Somehow, there was always enough food made. She brewed her evening tea and shared it, but otherwise, she had barely had to stir save to gather her things and climb aboard the small cart when they were ready to leave.

This level of leisure was completely foreign to her. Her parents’ shop had been prosperous, their goods highly sought after both among the Elves and in trade, but they had still cleaned and cooked and fetched supplies.   

She supposed it would be the same in Lindon. The queen would never need to think about such things as clearing the ash from her fireplace or mending her clothes. But Gil-galad had promised her a workshop; she could still pursue her craft. She knew little of the court; perhaps there were others that might join her, or might like to learn the art. Perhaps there would be a community of weavers that would welcome her.

Yet that idea brought its own uncertainties. 

She did not know any of the other surviving Elves from Eregion, at least not well. A few faces had been familiar, but none of her close friends were among the living. But as she’d lingered in Eregion, packing her things, she hadn’t missed the sideways looks the rest of the survivors were giving her. The questions behind their eyes at the soldiers that shadowed her steps.

Especially at night. 

Messages were flowing freely between Lindon and Imladris, as it was beginning to be known. Even while the army was still on the road, Gil-galad was sending runners back behind him. There had been no secrets in the valley; everyone had seen how the runners came to her fire each night, pressing small folded messages into her hand marked with an unmistakable seal of twelve stars.

I hope you are well, beloved. I think of you, always. I trust that your journey, when you begin it, will be both swift and uneventful.  

Small notes. Small things, but she treasured each of them, refolding them and keeping them among her belongings. After the first, she’d scrounged for paper and ink, and had scratched out replies to send back with the runners.

I am well. We will depart soon. I am…I am anxious to see you again.

Yet another night by the fire, another quiet night only punctuated by the soft sounds of their small group getting ready to retire, the occasional stamp or whicker from the horses. Linnea had already made her tea, and the cup was almost empty; it would be time for bed soon. Three of the soldiers had already done so; the commander of the company, a Greenwood Elf named Arondir, was the only one still awake besides herself. 

Another night, but this night was different. This night was the last night. Tomorrow, they would reach Lindon, and the journey would be over.

Was she ready?

They would arrive, whether she was ready or not.

The time on the road had been a chance to order her thoughts, to understand the new fate that the Valar had laid down before her. But she did not feel much closer to that understanding at all.

How long had it been since the Noldor had had a queen? She didn’t even know. Turgon’s wife had perished before he had been made High King. Fingon had never wed. And neither had Lord Celebrimbor; there had never been a Lady of Eregion. King Oropher of the Greenwood was wed, but she knew next to nothing about his queen. There was no one she could look to to know what her future might be.

Linnea stared deeper into the flames, hugging her arms around her knees as she sat. What sort of wedding could she even have? There would be no meeting of their houses; her parents were dead, her friends too, and her eyes prickled with tears at the thought. A betrothal feast would be impersonal, obligatory because of Gil-galad’s rank, people she didn't know. 

It threatened to sweep her under the tides, as it had every time she'd tried to think of it. She could refuse this; she could step aside, she could tell him that she had chosen not to follow her heart. Those children she had thought of on the wagon, wondering if he might sing to them - they would never be. He would understand, as much as it might pain him.

For it would. And her, too. She would be condemning both of them to being alone forever, because their hearts and their souls had already been woven together. And that warp would never break. 

She could no more do that than command the stars to fall from the heavens so that she might decorate her hair with them. This was her fate. And it might be strange, and hard, and unexpected. But it was hers, and she would claim it, every bit of it. Every bit of him, lord and King and husband, hers forever. 

That made her cheeks heat, and her restless thoughts spin in a new direction.

He had kissed her so tenderly that first time. 

She could still feel the softness of his mouth, the silken strands of his hair. Her lips trembled with the memory of the few kisses they'd had time for, and she shivered with the thought of more, a fire pooling low in her belly. A fire of a very different kind than the one in front of her.

She knew the basics, of course. Every Elf knew that much. But what really happened between a husband and a wife on their wedding night, and the nights thereafter…it was so private. She had assumed she would ask her mother for advice, if the time ever came for her. She knew her parents had thought it likely she would stay unwed, after she had reached two hundred years without finding the right match. And it had been centuries since then; she was now close to seven hundred years. She had been content with her weaving and the community of Eregion, wishing for no more - yet sometimes, seeing Elf children running in the plaza, she had felt wistful that that was not to be hers.

Or so she had thought.

Wife, queen, perhaps mother someday…the new parts of herself swirled and clattered in her head. Her boldness back in Eregion seemed so far away now - she chuckled as she remembered scolding the High King for not taking care of himself. But he hadn't seemed to mind. 

She wanted to please him, so badly. As long as she had been alone, he was so much older than she was. It had been much longer for him, waiting; he deserved for it to be perfect. Perhaps one of the Lindon healers could tell her more about the art of pleasure? But her face burned at even the mere thought of asking; no, this was far too intimate. Better to take what she knew about herself and bring it to her wedding night, with open hands and open heart, and trust that Ereinion would do the same. And that together they would learn.

The sound of rapid footsteps drew her attention, and Linnea looked up. They were the footfalls of an Elf, and Arondir was already standing, looking into the darkness. A moment later, a woman was coming up to the fire, her clothes confirming her as one of the Lindon runners. The sight was a surprise; Linnea hadn't expected one with only a day remaining to the journey.

As the runner stepped into the light, she bowed to Arondir, murmuring “Commander.” And as she straightened, she extended her hand towards Linnea. 

Even from a few feet away, Linnea could see the red wax and the stars that sealed the letter she held out, and the sight of it helped settle her churning mind. She smiled at the runner, taking the letter. “Thank you.”

“My lady.” The runner bowed to her that time. “If there is a reply, I will wait. But the High King’s orders were for me to return at once.”

Arondir nodded. “Come. Refresh yourself. I have my report prepared.”

With that, he led the runner off to the side where their supplies and the water bucket were arranged neatly - giving her as much privacy as possible. Linnea swiftly broke the seal, unfolding the paper, and brought it closer to the firelight.

It was short. But it was exactly what she'd needed.

Beloved,

I find myself waiting for the dawn with a child's excitement, eager to see your face as you behold Lindon. There is much I wish to show you as we begin this journey, and I beg you forgive me if I seem clumsy or my enthusiasm too great. It is not something I thought ever to do, to walk with my queen through our realm. 

I hope it brings you joy to make your home here with me.

I will save the rest of my words for the morrow, but I did not wish to leave you without something tonight. 

I am yours, melethel. 

Carefully, she refolded the letter, pressing the paper to her breast. She wondered if he was experiencing the same swells of emotion as she was, if his thoughts were as restless. Perhaps him sending the notes was his way of both reassuring her and showing her that he needed the same in return. 

She moved to her tent, kneeling down in the opening and rummaging through her bag. She still had a few sheets of paper left, more than enough to send a reply. 

But what to say?

She would see him the very next day. As he himself had pointed out - words could be saved until the morrow. So what to write tonight? What could she tell him that would carry him through the remaining hours?

There will be nothing to forgive, Ereinion. I never thought to do any of this. But at your side, I am ready. 

I am yours. 

She signed the bottom, and then folded the small note. Only a few words, but she hoped it would achieve her intent. And perhaps, keep his heart as much a-flutter as her own.

The runner was coming back, Arondir a step behind her, and Linnea stood up. The runner circled the fire to reach her; she handed the paper across, and watched as the runner tucked it into the message tube she carried, where Arondir’s report presumably already rested. And then, with a final nod to Arondir, she was off, running swiftly through the trees back the way she had come.

Arondir’s eyes moved to Linnea. He had joined the fight at Eregion, and afterwards, instead of making for his home in the Greenwood, had elected to remain with the High King’s forces. He was quiet, keeping his own counsel, but had been nothing but courteous to her during their journey. She offered him a small smile, kneeling back down to put her writing materials away.

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

“For what?”

“You offered hospitality while I wrote. I am sure she appreciated it, since I made her wait.”

“I am sure the High King will be grateful to receive a word from his queen.”

Linnea blinked, surprised. It was true that everyone had been treating her with that level of deference, but no one had actually said it to her face - and she hadn’t expected it, given that she wasn’t, not yet. 

“I - thank you. But you need not refer to me as such, Commander.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, and the corner of his mouth twisted up into a tiny smile. “You do not wish to begin to grow accustomed to it?”

“I…”

Her earlier thoughts about her future teased at her, tempting her. Arondir was old - he had been born in Beleriand, she knew that much about him. And now he lived in the Greenwood, where the king was married. Perhaps he might have some answers for her?

“I am not sure what to become accustomed to,” she said quietly. “I do not know what might be expected of me.”

She had opened the door, and she could see that Arondir had noticed. It was his choice whether to walk through it, and she saw a glimmer of sadness on his face before his expression smoothed out.

“I suppose not,” he replied softly. “I regret I have no counsel to offer you, Lady. Queen Tinnaril lives apart from the King Oropher; I have heard little of her for years.”

Linnea had heard of it, certainly, especially among the elder Elves. Wed for centuries, at times they chose to separate and pursue their own interests and gifts. At the moment she could scarcely imagine such a thing.

“I see,” she answered, offering a small smile. “Then I suppose I shall have to learn as I go.”   

“As it is with many things,” Arondir observed. “But you would not have been chosen were you not equal to the task. And I wish you and the High King every happiness.”

It was touching, especially since she didn’t know Arondir at all, and as far as she knew there was no especial connection between him and Gil-galad. But there was that hint again, that sadness and loss - and it was only a guess, but perhaps his wish was one he could no longer make for himself. 

“I thank you,” she murmured. “And I thank you for your care of our company, and of me, during our journey.”

“I only do my duty, my lady.”

There seemed to be nothing more to say then - and if she was right, if Arondir had lost someone dear to him, then the last thing she wanted to do was to rub his face in her own joy. It felt like a burning star inside her at times, when she remembered: the look in Gil-galad’s eyes, his voice saying melethel, the press of his lips. 

One more night. One more sunrise to wait. And the hours would pass more quickly in dreams.

“Then I bid you goodnight, Commander,” she said quietly. “Until the morning, then.”

“Goodnight, Lady.”

Gil-galad had awoken well before the sun rose, and he watched the dawn from the window of his bedchamber.

He had not yet fully dressed, simply wrapping himself in a nightrobe, his hair loose down his back and his crown left on his dressing table. In his hand he held Linnea’s last note, the one that had just been delivered to him as the runner had returned to Lindon.

I am yours.

It felt like someone had put a belt around his chest and tightened it to the point where he could scarce draw breath. Similar words had been exchanged over the days, but this was different. She would be here in a matter of hours; he could take her in his arms again, he could speak his heart to her face. He could ask all the questions burning in his mind.

Some of them were practical, of course. There had never been a queen in Lindon; the rooms directly below his had been used for other purposes. He had had them emptied out and cleaned and furnished, but she would need to decide what she wanted beyond that, and then there was of course her workshop. 

There was the matter of a crown. 

Perhaps a more delicate version of his own? He knew little of her style; he had seen her in precisely two dresses, one of them bloodstained and ruined. She had not worn any jewels, and her clothes had been simple. She would perhaps prefer the same in whatever she wore as queen - as much as she could, at least.

It would be her choice, as it would for all things that he could give her. Save one.

His own crown was not the only thing of value waiting on his dressing table.

A pouch of white velvet, as pure as starlight, sat there, and he didn’t need to open it to picture what it contained. The ring inside was silver, shaped of swirled and twisted metal, and it was set with a small pearl as the center stone, along with a plethora of tiny diamonds. A ring, his gift to Linnea for their betrothal, the sign worn on her hand that she was his.    

That belt around his chest grew tighter, as he let himself imagine it. Taking the ring from the pouch, showing it to Linnea, taking her hand and gently sliding it on her finger. It would sit there until he replaced it with a slender band of gold, plain and unadorned as was the tradition - as simple for a common soldier as for a queen.

Or a King. He looked down at his own hand, imagining that.

He might have lost all the hours until her arrival to that particular thought, but was saved by a knock on his door. His body servants, arriving to help him bathe and dress, were as punctual as ever, and that was good - it would provide him with occupation, preparing himself for the day. 

And he wished to look his best on this day. 

Some time later, dressed and ready, he settled at his desk. It was still early, and he had ample time before Linnea's company would arrive; Arondir’s final report, delivered by the runner along with Linnea’s note, had indicated mid-afternoon. He looked forward to hearing more detail regarding the roads from Imladris; travel between the two strongholds would need to be easy, and it would do well to plan for repairs or enhancements along with the rest of the work.

He sipped his customary morning tea, enjoying the flavor. The thought of food had been unappetizing to his nervous, jittery stomach, but the tea was pleasant and the warmth was soothing. 

“High King?”

It was the voice of one of his guards, and he turned as the door cracked open. 

“What is it?”

“Commander Galadriel, sire. She asks an audience.”

Apparently he was not the only Elf up early that morning.

Galadriel had returned to Lindon with the army, the better to complete her recovery. He had seen little of her over the last days, and had hoped that she was resting and regaining her vigor. The artificers and healers had said she was doing well, but he knew enough of her to predict that she would cease following their advice the moment that she had the strength to do so. 

“Admit her,” he said, and rose from the desk.

Galadriel came in slowly. It was easy to see that she was still coming back to herself - in more ways than one. She was strong and fierce, but her very soul had been affected. That was not something one recovered from overnight.

“High King,” she said quietly. “I apologize for disturbing you so early.”

“You do not disturb me,” he said. “Please, sit.”

They had reached somewhat of a detente in the days after Eregion. It was a fragile peace, and Gil-galad had no doubt that they would be butting heads again soon enough. Yet for all that, he did not care to think about what would have happened if he and Elrond - if the rings - had failed. 

She settled herself in the chair nearest the fire. Her color was still pale, but she was moving more easily than she had the last time he had seen her.  

“I understand your lady arrives today,” she said softly.

He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face. Word had traveled quickly, especially with the preparations he had had undertaken. His approach had been matter-of-fact, as if it were no more noteworthy than discussing the weather, but word had traveled. 

The Noldor would have a queen, for the first time in thousands of years.

“She does,” he acknowledged. “And it is my hope that all of Lindon will make her welcome.”

“To survive the siege of Eregion, she is possessed of an uncommonly strong spirit,” Galadriel murmured. “What is her lineage?”

Gil-galad tilted his head in curiosity. Galadriel was never one for small talk, and she would not have come here at this hour for that purpose. But he would let this play out; there was something guarded about her tone, something that told him there was more behind her question than it appeared. Fortunately - thanks to one of the soldiers from Eregion - he had an answer to give.  

“A modest one,” he replied. “Her parents joined Celebrimbor when he founded Eregion. There are those here who remember them before they left Lindon. She was born shortly after Ost-in-Edhil was established, and has lived there all her life.”

Part of him wished that he was among that number who remembered Linnea’s parents; they had been weavers, and his path had never crossed theirs. He had seen little of Linnea’s grief, but suspected that that time would come for her, and he regretted that he would not be able to share her memories. But he would be there for her, and that hopefully counted as much if not more.

Galadriel nodded an acknowledgement, but seemed distant, and he peered closer.

“What troubles you, Commander?” 

She didn’t answer him immediately, turning her head and staring into the flames for a long moment.

“He is the Great Deceiver,” she finally said quietly. “And yet, I almost believed him when he said I thought too much of him. That this was not his design.” 

She had spoken little, thus far, of her confrontation with Sauron. Gil-galad had let it be; there was enough to do for the moment, and he knew she would not withhold details that he might need immediately.

“It is not inconceivable that he meant matters to be delayed,” he said. “Completing the forging of the Rings with an army on the very doorstep seems ill-considered. But that he took advantage of the opportunity to gain that army…”

Galadriel nodded. “I agree. And yet we must consider the possibility that what occurred at Eregion is by his design, fulfilling some purpose we cannot yet know even beyond obtaining the rings.” She paused, and - with a clear effort - looked straight at him. “All that occurred at Eregion.”

Rage filled him. 

He saw clearly enough what Galadriel was implying, and it took a long, long moment for the red to fade from his vision. He fixed her with as stern a gaze as ever he had mustered.   

“I would consider your next words very, very carefully were I you, Commander. You question your queen.”

She didn’t flinch, and he was distinctly unsurprised by it. She had faced down much worse.

“I do not question her, High King. Only that Sauron may have been very deliberate in allowing her to live. His plans are laid across the centuries - who knows what he may have set in motion? It may not reveal itself for a dozen lifetimes of Men.”

He didn’t want to see it, but he could find the logic in Galadriel’s mind. She was right, after all; Sauron was one that would be willing to accept a loss now for a gain later. The centuries had taught him patience. 

And Gil-galad also had to admit that there was none better to know the Deceiver.

Galadriel had a point.

And perhaps the strongest reason in favor of the point was that if she was right, it would change nothing. Linnea was his; he was hers. That had been done and could not be undone, wedding or no.   

Gil-galad raised his head, letting his expression soften. “Sauron is a creature of schemes,” he allowed. “But he has never been a creature of the heart. He seeks to corrupt using evil and vice - pride, and greed, and ambition. The best in Elf and Dwarf and Man is a mystery to him, and he fears it. He would not know how to use love as a tool in his hand.”

“He knew how to use friendship,” she whispered.

He could well imagine what it had cost her to admit that, after everything that had occurred. And again, she was not wrong. 

“A twisted form of it,” he said. “Friendship may have served as hammer and tongs, but the metal he shaped was your own desire to defeat your enemy at any cost.” 

“And what if he now shapes your desire, High King? If your union, as joyous as it may be, plays right into his hands? Perhaps he relies on your bride being a distraction - and he may not even have a clear goal in mind, but has opened possibilities for himself that were not present before simply by allowing events to unfold…”

Her voice had risen at the end, and the agitation had clearly cost her strength. She sank back into the chair, breathing in deeply.

The rage had fled, leaving sorrow in its place. That Sauron had twisted Galadriel so, that she was so damaged by his lies. She would heal, he believed that, but it might not ever be truly finished.   

He took a moment to fold his hands in his lap, composing his thoughts, before he answered.

“Love is the province of the Valar,” he said, very softly. “I will trust in their designs in this more than I will seek out shadows where there are none to be found. And I ask that you do so as well, Commander. Think you that I could turn away now? That I could refuse what has been offered to me?”

He had chosen his words carefully. Galadriel still grieved her husband, and he had felt no need to explicitly remind her of Celeborn. Their kind loved once, for all their lives and beyond - she knew how this felt. 

And he could see she took his meaning. 

“No one wishes you joy more than I, High King,” she finally whispered. “I shall welcome our new queen with open heart. And may the Valar grant you every blessing.”

A tear made its way down Galadriel’s pale cheek, and he pretended not to notice. She would be grateful for it.

“I thank you,” he said softly. “Was this what you sought me out for?”

“No. I wish to return to Imladris as soon as possible. It will be easier to protect if at least one of the Rings is present. I sought your blessing to leave with the company of carpenters and masons that departs in three days’ time.”

Gil-galad nodded. She was right; they were managing at a distance, especially now that Cirdan had been advised and had brought Narya to bear. But he could feel the tug of Vilya’s power on him, not draining by any means but still requiring effort. Having Nenya there would ease the burden.

“I trust your judgment, that you are recovered enough to make the journey?”

She let out a soft laugh, looking back to the flames. “Not so long ago, you would have commanded me to remain if you thought otherwise.”

He echoed the chuckle. Yes, it was true - their relationship had perhaps entered a new era after recent events. And perhaps it would be a better one; they shared a stubbornness, more than he might like to admit, but there was an acknowledgment of it that had not been there in the past. They were aligned, and he was not too proud to recognize that knowing she had been right all along had softened his stance.

“It is indeed a time of change,” he said. “For us all.”

Continue to Part 4

[leotanaka]

the amount of people who are still being pedantic about galadriel surviving falling such a long distance when mirdania didn't like...

mirdania SURVIVED the fall. she was bloody and hurt, yes but that was because she fell to the ground head first but she was still alive. the fall itself didn't kill her. she died because she was murdered by an orc. if the orc wasn't there, she probably would have healed and recovered.

same with galadriel.

she was pretty badly injured from falling off the cliff, falling from a great height yes but they literally specify it was the injury from being stabbed with morgoth's crown and her spirit being pulled towards the darkness that they were trying to save her from. gil-galad even describe the wounds to her body from the fall as mere which suggests they weren't as bad as the injury from the crown.

[misspermitted]

I’m on board with the “Adar was/is Celeborn” theory purely because I want this crack exchange -

Adar/Celeborn: You cheated on me with Sauron!

Galadriel: Well you also cheated on me with Sauron so the scales are balanced

Adar/Celeborn: What?? In what-

Galadriel: You left me, your wife, for 1000 years, to have a family and children with him

Adar/Celeborn: Okay, well, you fell in love with him. Which means you weren’t even in love with me in the first place. Which is worse

Galadriel: YOU LITERALLY HAD HIS CHILDREN

Adar/Celeborn: You married me for all eternity wiTHOUT EVEN BEING IN LOVE WITH ME

High King Gil-Galad, to Elrond: Still think he’s fake and they’re not married?

Elrond: Oh no, I take it back, they’re definit- oh my god Galadriel do not challenge him to a duel there is nothing wrong with your womb gods above