#Gil saying absolutely not

[softquietsteadylove]

ahhh can we see protective gil in circus au? there’s no way he’s letting her stay locked up forever!

Eyes followed as Thena finally emerged from the sleeper car. She wasn't dressed for rehearsal, she was wearing a regular old dress. Everyone stared but no one dared say a word.

She walked confidently enough, even though she had a beast of a man trailing behind her. He met every pair of eyes with a glare, practically growling at them all like a dog. Although no one would have described him as the guard dog type. He was the one who had locked her up, after all.

Gil almost cried when he saw her.

Thena looked well, but also terrible. She was dressed in her soft, cream coloured dress, and her hair was free and flying around her shoulders. But she looked exhausted, like she hadn't seen the sun in a week and barely eaten.

Gil had been waiting for her to rejoin them for what certainly felt like a week but he knew was less. He had tried to exchange words with her, whisper through the slats of the car window, anything. But since the kiss they had shared, Kro had hardly left her side.

But Kro didn't cut a protective picture. He looked like the spectre of death, hunched over and looming behind her. Like a gargoyle on an old building watching over something possessively.

"Miss," some of the guys from the crew dared to nod their heads to her as she passed them to reach the stew pots with today's lunch.

Kro stared them down for it.

She nodded back to them, a faint smile on her lips. Gil didn't have to hear her say a word to know she was tired. The way she moved said everything. He set down the supplies he had been helping move and walked over.

"Vet."

"Boss," he greeted with a harsh tone but the right word. He didn't let his eyes drift to Thena at all, but he wasn't about to stand by and let Kro bully her with silence either. "Think we'll be ready for the next show?"

If Kro knew his real intentions, he said nothing. He kept his eyes on him as well. "Replacement wire won't be easy to get. But I don't want to miss any more shows than we already have."

The greatest shock to all of them had been when Kro had not let Thena out of her cage and instead actually cancelled their last show. It was possible to perform without the high wire, technically. And of course any normal show would cancel due to the safety concern.

But Kro wasn't normal, and everyone had speculated even more at the missed opportunity to naturally see if Thena was alive and well with their own eyes.

"You could always let us go into town to find some."

The train always stopped outside of town, for obvious reasons. But if they needed supplies, Kro would go himself, in the past. He didn't let them go into town to meander and mingle. He said it was to prevent them from getting drunk or hungover or god forbid arrested. In reality, it was for the sake of control over them.

"I'll go tomorrow."

Thena set down her bowl. Was just that too tiring for her? "We can do the show without it."

Gil was shocked that the suggestion had come from her. Shouldn't she have been the one most eager to do away with the damned routine risking her life? But he still didn't give Kro the window of opportunity. "Should probably get a net too, right?"

Breaths were held. He was poking the bear, and he knew it. Kro always said he felt strongly about not using a net. A net would imply he didn't have faith in his wife, in his own words. It had nothing to do with the extra expense and set up time.

Kro stepped closer to him. Thena hovered between them distance wise, her back still turned. "I still have faith in my wife, despite the unfortunate incident."

Gil bit his tongue on the subject of faith in his wife. But he couldn't help letting his eyes say a little more as he spoke, "I have faith in Thena. But maybe your faith isn't enough."

Kro leaned right into his vision, baring his teeth at him like a dog. "Are you questioning my wife?"

"Thena is safe," Gil met his eye without fear. He could press their heads together so hard they bled, he didn't care. "That's all that matters."

Thena turned, putting her hand on Kro's arm. "Let's go."

But Kro didn't budge. He kept his eyes on Gil but he moved his hand to grasp the arm she was using. "Don't interrupt, dearest."

Gil gripped Kro's shirt in his fists. "Why did she wince?"

"What?"

But Gil didn't let up. He dragged Kro forward and up and away from Thena. His vision blurred of everything except the monster in his grasp. "You grabbed her arm, she winced. Is she hurt?"

"I would never lay a hand on her!" Kro roared at him. He wasn't exactly lifted off the ground, being taller than Gil even. He grabbed Gil's shirt as well, the two of them pulling nowhere.

"I've seen you do it before," Gil growled. He could remember clear as day when Kro grabbed Thena by the arm - the first night she had kissed him - and dragged her away under the moonlight.

He tossed Kro back, immediately turning to Thena. His hands hovered around the sleeves of her dress, coming just low enough. His fingertips brushed her soft skin. She felt cold. "Are you okay?"

She didn't deny anything, just looked at him. "He didn't hurt me Gil, just grabs sometimes."

His face darkened.

"Don't, Gil," she whispered, trying to talk him down from the precipice. "I know he's a bastard but don't--you don't want this fight."

He just barely pushed her sleeve up, seeing the faint bruising appear from where Kro had taken her entire, delicate arm in his beastly paw of a hand. He snarled.

"Gil," she repeated louder, but it felt like he was hearing her through water. His vision blurred even more. He'd never understood 'seeing red' before. "He will kill you."

As if he could abide something like this.

[babyloniastreasure]

youd think that for how utterly obsessed i am with both fate and the epic of gilgamesh that i would draw gil or enkidu a lot

alas. karna blog

[fivekrystalpetals]

Echo being the sweetest Cinnamon Roll to ever cinnamon roll: a collection

(Change your sleeping spot, Oz! Echo is recommending this course of action)

(she is Not Little Echo 😣 she is not impressed)

(A glimpse from Little Echo's secret diary)

(a low quality Echo)

(a high quality Echo)

(a high quality Echo low quality chibi)

Echo complaining about her 'Master' to 'Mister Jouta'

(Echo and Break should def start a Bash Vincent Nightray Club and bring Emily and Jouta along)

[lilnasxvevo]

I have to say something. Why does every man on Succession either have a homoerotic obsession with another guy or have a guy who is homoerotically obsessed with him

[asmilinghopefullromantic]

#ah...i'm in pain now...ok cool#like...i am just Having Thoughts about how from that moment with the night terror was The Moment™️ for him#bc whenever we see other characters react to his night terrors in-person its either with fear (eve) or concern with a side of snark (jess)#and yet dani's first instincts upon him literally colliding with her is (1) to shield him from other officers who think he's attacking her#(2) to hold onto him and make sure he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else and (3) to wake him up and reassure him that it wasn't real#at which point he clings to her like a lil koala rather than pushing her away despite the fact that pushing ppl away is his usual response#then in the next scene he compares her to jackie which tbh i think would've been v relevant in s3 had we fucking gotten it#bc this show is so much about parents and how their children either become like them or don't#and at (just about) every turn we see that malcolm has grown up to become far more like gil than he ever was like martin#so it would track that he would end up with someone like jackie#i have so many more thoughts on this but it's literally 4am and there's no way any of it would be coherent so that's all for now ig

via @violetsandmagpies' tags say it all

Let him go, Malcolm. I’m begging you. You could have a life. (insp)

[thesummerestsolstice]

How the elves react to Elrond getting sick:

Maedhros & Maglor: Absolutely freak out. Assume Elrond is dying and that the Doom of Feanor's house has finally caught up to them. Maedhros insists he says in bed and makes him soup. Maglor starts planning a lament for his funeral. (He has a cold)

Gil-Galad: Tries to convince Elrond to rest. Always fails. Has resorted to getting Elrond a bed desk so he can do his work while he rests. Frequently checks up on him to make sure he's alright or to bring him little gifts to make him feel better.

Erestor: Also half-elven, so gets it. Inevitably gets sick whenever Elrond does because he refuses to stay away. They always end up sick together, but they are together, and that means something.

Celebrimbor: Has read multiple books on human anatomy for the sake of his cousins (Erestor, son of Caranthir included). Theoretically understands how to care for someone who is ill. *Checks notes* according to this, if I give you chicken soup every day for a week it will cure your *checks notes again* pneumonia. He's trying his best.

Galadriel: Does not understand human or half-elven biology very well. Has taken Elrond on a ten mile hike in the snow when he was getting over a cough. Elrond's Feanorian followers have never forgiven her for it.

Celebrian: I would say she uses Elrond being sick as an excuse for them to stay in bed and cuddle, but let's be honest, she doesn't need an excuse for that. Knows he can take care of himself, and is a lot more Normal about it than everyone else on this list. Elrond loves her very much.

Glorfindel: Fully willing to pick up Elrond (or Erestor) and take them back to bed so they rest. Takes his duty to protect his lord very seriously. A very comfortable pillow for sick half-elves.

Lindir: Absolutely freaks out. You thought his anxiety about the dwarves was bad?? Elrond always has to calm him down and assure Lindir that is, in fact, not about to die. He does sometimes ask Lindir to play for him when he's ill though.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Can I just say this shit is crazy. the little mermaid boat. the gil bioluminescence. their absolutely ridiculous muscles. Jade card WILL be mine

-Pomefiore Admin

[sun-snatcher]

Your take of Círdan being an old man who enjoys pestering people is my absolute fave bc yeah if I was the oldest elf alive I'd be a little shit half the time too for funzies

( credits to the lovely @peregrintook for this beautiful gifset ! )

✵ — WATER-DAMAGED!

summ.  Elrond arrives at Círdan’s workshop. He finds his heart instead. or:  The Herald and the Artisan fall in love. pairing.  elrond peredhel / f!reader  w.count.  1.2k (a lil baby!) a/n.  set in s2e1, friends-to-lovers kinda , fluff galore , mutual pining , Círdan being a thirdwheel (but highkey enjoying it because he’s a little shit like that)

       YOU’RE QUICK TO attempt to bundle Elrond up like a child when he’d arrived. 

Frantic, almost, at the sight of Lindon’s renowned Herald— drenched to the bone, head-to-toe, and dripping river water from his mess of curls, leaving puddles and a wet track wherever he went on the stone of the workshop.

“He’s not here yet,” is what you’d said, when he’d urged you for Master Círdan. The shipwright had gone off to appraise proper timber for the frames of the vessels prepared for Valinor, now that High King Gil-Galad has decreed preparations to set sail. 

“But he should return by nightfall, latest. So will you please sit down, Elr—”

“I cannot,” he overrides, wholly unconvincing through the chatter of his teeth. “You’ll be at risk if I stay.”

You blink. “…From who?”

“I—”

In the distance, a horse whinnies. 

Elrond tenses instantly.

“…Are you— hiding?” you realise, as he springs to his feet to make headway for the sidedoors. “Elrond, wait!”

“Thank you, truly, for your kindness, but I cannot allow the King’s Guard—”

“That was just Silef,” you say incredulously, muscling the door back shut and stubbornly standing in his way. “My mare, remember? From the stables just uphill?” 

A pause. 

He listens with pricked ears: gates of a stable door squeaking; hooves clopping from paddock ground onto pasture grass; the sound of grain and feed being chewed on, after a moment's pass. A notable absence of marching Elven armour and feet stamping its way downhill towards him. 

Just Silef. You’re right. He’d been paranoid. 

“Á quildessë, Elrond,” comes your quiet voice, gentler now as you chase to meet his anxious gaze. “I will make sure no one comes into this workshop, unless it’s Master Círdan himself,” you assure, resting your hands on his forearms. “Just please, sit down. You’re shaking.” 

…He is. He hadn’t even realised. 

It might have been adrenaline, or the bite of the cold from wind and water— but he’s trembling, nonetheless, like a leaf. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, much, much later, when you’d stoked the coals of the workshop hearth to life, and set him upon a wooden seat beside it.

From the open foyer of the atelier, the sea-reflected hues of the setting sun does little to hide the tentative worry in your features. Your voice is as gentle as the lap of tidewater. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I shouldn’t have… barged in.” 

I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place, and put you at risk for treason for harboring a dissenter.

The firelight paints your face in soft, flickering licks of ochre as you tenderly dry off the dampness in his hair, the water trickling down his face. “You were afraid,” you reason generously.

(You don’t tell him that he looks adorably… pitiful. With eyes like that of a kicked puppy, almost. Even worse that he looks half-drowned.)

Elrond doesn’t argue. You’ve always been a kind friend to him. So, so kind. Ever-ready and steadfast to extend an olive branch, impervious to tactlessness, or even offence, from the sheer tenacity of your patience. Elrond has always admired you for it. Elrond has always—

Liked you. Cared. Loved.

(Too much to allow himself to let you get caught in this tangle he’s been forced into.)

He lays a hand over yours, and you pause mid-wipe of a droplet down his lined jaw. His eyes are shut briefly, as if falling into the comfort of your touch— candid indulgence. It makes your heart stutter.

That you’re allowed a quiet moment to admire him this close, so much so you can see the rings of sundering blue in his eyes; or to touch him this affectionately, so much so you could feel the very change of temperature on his skin— 

You think you’ve been blessed with a handsome vision by the Valar themselves.

“You must be curious,” he says, voice a low murmur. His palm swallows yours entirely. His fingers are warm by now. (You shouldn’t notice such details— but you do. You’re an artisan, after all. Or perhaps hopeless romantic is a better suited term?) “But this is beyond even me.”

He slides your hand down, much to your dismay, and uncurls the pouch he’s been clutching onto since he arrived. Now that it’s infront of you, there’s a pull to it you can’t quite understand.

You reach, almost too keenly— 

—but you close his fingers around it instead.

If Elrond had shown any surprise, you didn’t notice. 

“Must be why you’ve sought out Master Círdan,” you muse, looking up at him. “If it’s beyond you, it’s most certainly beyond me, a mere shipwright’s apprentice.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Elrond adds quickly, realising how he must have come across. 

“I know,” you laugh, before he can take off into a tangent. (It’s bright and musical to Elrond’s ears— thinks if he could drown in its sound, he would have done so willingly.) “You forget I know you.”

Not entirely, he doesn’t say. You don’t know how much my heart sings to be near you. How much your presence— or the very thought of you, even— have always brought comfort to me. 

You don’t know how much I’ve been resisting the urge to kiss you since you first sat me down by the fire.

He feels a little smile coming, the kind he couldn’t help, that would light his whole face whenever he cast his gaze on you. “You do, don’t you?” he whispers, voice sinking into something almost— nostalgic, at the sudden unravelling of old memories shared with you throughout the age.

“Well, when it comes to Kingdom politicians…” you shrug teasingly. “As much as I’m allowed to be privy to.”

He barely laughs, too busy looking at you with rapt, reverent attention. It curls a timidness in your heart. “You are allowed all of me. Always.”

Something takes wing in your chest. Butterflies, maybe. Doves taking flight in your ribcage. 

As are you, to me.

At least, that's what you would’ve said, had your ears not caught the distant clop of hooves headed downwind towards the river edge. “Master Círdan is here,” you say instead, diverted. You recognise the huff of his steed anywhere.

You watch Elrond perk up and tune into the approach: the rustle of saddle and stirrups, the shuffle of robes and footsteps. When the doors squeak open and shut, the Kingdom’s shipwright finds the Kingdom’s herald standing in the heart of his own workshop.

“Elrond,” he says, by way of greeting. There’s naught a hint of surprise in his voice— Círdan had felt a call louder than the sea long before he’d arrived, and now he can understand it’s carried in the herald’s charge. “Have you come to seek a certain apprentice of mine?” he asks, regardless.

It’s playful. Knowing.

“He seeks you, Master Círdan,” you answer politely, rounding from the corner where you’d grabbed your spare pelerine cloak to pass to Elrond. “Here, to keep warm.”

“Thank you.”

You bow your head to them both. “I shall be at the lighthouse just across.”

Your fingertips brush against Elrond’s hand as you leave. It tarries; merely a millisecond— enough, however, for Círdan’s keen eyes to catch— before he watches you depart through the sidedoors to give them the privacy they needed. 

Elrond's hand flexes reflexively. Longingly.

A beat passes.

“…Are you sure it is still me you seek?” Círdan muses, brows shot to his hairline.

The tips of Elrond’s ears burn. 

[leletha-jann]

Headcanon future scenario (either postcanon or post-the OT3 getting together) where it dawns on Europa that three of the absolutely most major political powerhouses on the continent are allied - something that would normally be a matter for a library's worth of complicated treaties - on the stated basis of "MINE".

...our cuties are figuring it out, OK, but to the long-suffering bureaucrats keeping the Empire running, this is a political disaster. They do not know what the hell is going on or what the rules are.

But Agatha and Gil and Tarvek do not have TIME to sit down and draft treaties, and they are damn well not going to let anyone else do it FOR them.

What emerges out of this is known as "the Agreement", because that's how the Triumvirate refer to it. Agatha's not supposed to do that? Oh, the Agreement says she can, actually. Does Tarvek have the authority to do that? Sure, it's in the Agreement. Going to take this all the way to Gil? Somehow, whatever it was, it was in the Agreement.

No one actually knows what the Agreement is.

The traveling Heterodyne shows drama it up into a dread document written in demon blood on human skin, dripping with oaths so powerful they scorch the eye. Great special effects, fun prop design work, zero expected accuracy.

Quite a lot of people, including the Valois dynasty, try to insist that the Agreement doesn't actually exist. Or sometimes that they know the terms and they're this-and-such (they do not know. Seffie is going to murder someone with their own teeth).

Except it does exist, because the Triumvirate is acting as if it does, and that carries a lot of weight in Europa.

Very observant people and our main cast, however, know it exists, because they've repeatedly seen Agatha and Tarvek and Gil all check a matching notebook they all seem to have, and write stuff in it. (A copy of the notebook got stolen once. The thief discovered it was in three-Sparks-invented-this-for-fun depths of code, and then did not survive.)

What no one knows is that it's the same notebook, triplicated with the same Skifandrian technology that created Zeetha's expressive headband face...

...aaaaaaaaaaand it's basically a group chat on the theme of guys I did a thing on 100% bluff, here are the details, if someone asks...and they will ask...back me up on this OK?

They'll figure out the formal treaties when Europa is not on fire, and in the meantime, whatever it is...

...it's in the Agreement.

Or it is now, at least.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Why did Galadriel jump off the cliff? #2

We had one explanation, yes. But what about the second explanation?

In one of my previous posts I presented one hypothesis to Galadriel jumping off the cliff: to protect Nenya.

Now, I want to explore a different angle: Galadriel jumps off the cliff to stop herself from joining Sauron.

Strange. Because she hates Sauron, it’s Halbrand she loves and all that jazz, isn’t it?

First things, first: let’s not strip Galadriel of her agency here nor whitewash her character (which I see fellow fans do a lot). Galadriel is aware of what she would become if she joins Sauron. She might self-deceive herself on several occasions to dissociate of her own actions; like the “I was deceived” nonsense. But, deep down, she’s aware that she would, indeed, become a tyrant. She would enslave everyone to her will, and make them all her subjects, to worship her, and love her, and despair.

And what’s worse is: this is what she truly wants. This her true heart’s desire. Ultimate power. The superficial meaning is: she wants Sauron’s power to become hers; the subtext is she wants Sauron himself. And this is what Sauron, the “sharer of gifts”, gives her by forcing them to bind together via Morgoth’s crown.

Galadriel knows the effect her beauty has on others, and she relishes on it, she wants to be worshipped by everyone. She loves to be on power trips, and to feel powerful. This is why we saw her being so arrogant (with pretty much every character) and rub her titles on everyone’s faces back in Season 1. She believes herself to be above everyone else, because she’s royalty, she’s a princess, she’s the only surviving child of High King of the Noldor, Finarfin, she was born to rule. And that’s why she doesn’t respect Gil-galad’s authority on several occasions: not only he’s younger than her, but she wants his title for herself. She should be High Queen of the Noldor. Pride is her main flaw of character in Tolkien lore.

And this is why Sauron offers her this. His proposal was to make her “a” queen; the Queen of all Middle-earth (not “my queen”). She’s the one who says she wants him as her king.

And this is why Sauron humiliates her during their fight in 2x08. His mindset was: you think your are powerful? Your power is no match for mine. Join me if you want to have true power.

Sauron allowing her to indulge in sword fighting instead of using sorcery to disarm her is also a callback to their scene in Númenor prison in 1x04, when Galadriel sarcastically asks Halbrand: “Are you really about to advise me in the art of war?” Me, the commander of the Northern armies of Gil-galad?

And he laughs. Because, of course, he does; Sauron was not only Morgoth’s chief lieutenant, but was also in charge of Angband, Morgoth’s fortress on Middle-earth, and had that thing running like clockwork. And in the entirety of the War of Wrath he has only known one defeat (to Lúthien and Huan, the Hound of Valinor). He’s a sorcerer, yes, but he’s also highly skilled in combat, and with thousand of years of experience ahead of Galadriel. This was never going to be a fair fight.

[she] stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. 

And like Tolkien said about Gandalf, Galadriel would be a far worse tyrant than Sauron himself. Because Sauron is a demigod, he helped shape the world he seeks to dominate and enslave. He’s the ultimate power himself (One Ring), the “precious” (this is one of the meanings of his true name “Mairon”). But what happens when you give this power to someone else? Pretty much what happened to Isildur, Gollum, and even Frodo. But these characters weren’t powerful immortal beings like Galadriel herself, so the end result would be far more terrifying.

We see this with Saruman (who’s also a former Maia of Aulë like Sauron himself). But Saruman is a servant of Sauron and his wingman (wingmaia?); their deal isn’t absolute power like what Sauron offered to Galadriel. Nor was Sauron in love with him.

This comes from a misunderstanding of Galadriel’s character. And it’s kind of hilarious to read Galadriel stans calling Sauron a “narcissist”, when Galadriel herself is the worst case of narcissism in “Rings of Power” at this point of the story. And she and Sauron are so alike in personality, that if you are going to badmouth one, you have to badmouth the other. They are the same. And that’s why Bear McCreary gave them similar themes: The Galadriel and Sauron ostinatos share a similar contour of upward moving minor scales, though they are each rhythmically and structurally distinct. And they are distinct because they are on opposite sides of the battle of good vs. evil, due to their own choices.

Everyone talks about Galadriel’s light, but this is due to Sauron’s self-deceit. Galadriel’s “light” isn’t truly “her light”, at all: it’s the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, Telperion (Silver) and Laurelin (Gold), shining on her eyes and hair, because she was born during the Years of the Trees (before Morgoth and Ungoliant destroy them). This light shines on every Elf that lived under the Two Trees light, not just Galadriel. And that’s why she’ll craft her Phial and her Mirror, and even wears Nenya, to harvest their light for herself.

The true reason why Mairon was intrigued and drawn to Galadriel in Season 1, and why he’ll keep on trying to bring her to his side for thousands of years has nothing to do with “her light”. It’s actually way darker, and Season 1 gave us the answer (and almost everyone chooses to ignore it):

Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror. Adar calls Galadriel out, 1x06

I already talked about this on my Halaldriel post, but I’ll go deeper here: Mairon was attracted to Galadriel because she reminded him of Morgoth. Not because she’s dark or darkness, but due to her chaotic energy. She’s impulsive, aggressive, arrogant and sometimes downright offensive towards the Númenóreans. This is why he wants to be the one doing the talking: Morgoth was the brute force and Sauron the mind. This is why he tells Galadriel not to make any new enemies. This is why he gets impatient with her, and compares her to a “horse in full gallop” and advises a more cunning and subtle approach; Morgoth was “chaotic evil” while Sauron is “lawful evil”.

This mention of “envy” wasn’t random: Morgoth was a envious and petty God. He was envious of the ability of creation, and he wanted it for himself. But since he could not have it, he devoted himself to corrupt Eru’s creation, instead.

Galadriel whole demeanor recalls Mairon, even if on a subconscious level, of Morgoth himself. And this is why Mairon wanted to serve her. He believed it was due to her “light” and saw it as his chance at redemption, but he was deeply mistaken, and deceiving himself, again.

And we even saw Galadriel being the “Morgoth” to Mairon’s “Sauron” several times in Season 1. She’s the one who tempts him with power, when he’s minding his own business, at the forge. This is direct parallel with Morgoth tempting Mairon in Aulë’s forge, thousands of years prior. She’s the one who tempts him into choosing deceit (evil), instead of remaining on his path of redemption.

It has been been confirmed that Eru brought Galadriel and Mairon together. And if this theory is correct, Mawnë sent his Maia and herald Eönwë (in Diarmid form) to bring Mairon home to Aman, and this would be the reason why they were sailing in the Sundering Seas near Valinor. Ulmo, then, sent the sea creature (and it's possible it could be his Maia Ossë, actually), to wreck that ship to test Mairon; will you choose "good" (help Diarmind, who would reveal himself to be Eönwë) or Morgoth (pouch from the King of the Southlands who swore a blood oath to Morgoth)?

He choose Morgoth and run into Galadriel next. The question is: what if Galadriel was his second test? Because what we got with their Númenor dynamic was “the seduction of Mairon” 2.0. with Galadriel instead of Morgoth. And he failed the test, once again.

“You used me. After I all but begged you to let me be.” Mairon tells Galadriel this in 1x05, but it could easily be him thinking of Morgoth when he started to resent him (and probably joining him, in the first place), but, due to his blood oath, it was too late and there was nothing he could do to escape him. And so, he wouldn’t be able to serve any other master, nor gain redemption so easily.

Back to Galadriel, I know many fellow fans have complained she has been “toned down” in Season 2, because Gil-galad and Elrond have taken upon themselves to teach her a bit of humility. But that’s not because of the lorebros, folks. That’s her character arc in Tolkien legendarium. She’s a “repentant sinner” who got banished from Valinor because of her pride and greed (power hungry), as I’ve talked about in this post.

Galadriel has to humble herself and “touch some grass” in order to become the wise leader we know her to be on the Third Age. Her wisdom doesn’t come out of nowhere, she’ll have to earn it and cultivate it over the centuries. As she lets go of her arrogance and pride, the more powerful and wise she’ll become. And this has nothing to do with her being a wife or a mother (like the “lorebros” want, because this is of no consequence to her character arc as written by Tolkien), but with her own power and how she’ll wield it.

The struggle between good vs. evil is within Galadriel herself. She also has to choose good every day, to keep it as a part of her nature. And her pull towards evil and power is represented by her love for Sauron. Because it’s Sauron she wants. When he proposed to make her a queen, she expresses her desire of having him as her king consort, and adds “the Dark Lord”. This is in the literal script, I don’t even know why this “Sauron vs Halbrand” discourse is even a thing anymore.

At the end of the day, Halbrand was a mere mortal man, a Southlander, a “low man”, king or not. Galadriel fell in love with him, but she would always consider him beneath her. Now Sauron is a complete different story. He’s the most powerful being around, with all of his glorious titles: he’s Tar-Mairon, “King Excellent”, King of Kings, Lord of the Earth, the Lord of the Rings. Evil, or not, a mighty being like Sauron lusting after her is an absolute aphrodisiac for her power thirst. And that’s why Galadriel, deep down, is terrified of meeting him, again. Because if she lets him in, she’s doomed. She knows she won’t be able to resist him, again.

At its core, Galadriel’s hatred and anger is not at Sauron per say. She hates and is angry at herself for harboring these feelings for him, and projects this onto him during their fight. She knows she shouldn’t feel anything other than hate and despise for her enemy. This is like Gollum with the One Ring: in spite of how much he craves it, he hates himself for having this want because it destroys him.

She fights Sauron with all of her might in hope of destroying her feelings for him. That’s why she wants to kill him herself, so badly. She wants to prove to herself she can do it. She’s deep in denial about the whole thing. And that’s why Sauron shows her Halbrand. And, in that moment, she stops her violent shenanigans because that’s the face she knows, with whom she has a deep connection with, and the face she loves. But Halbrand is just one of Sauron’s physical forms, he’s the same immortal spirit. But Galadriel knows this, as well.

“I see you. I know your mind” is Sauron saying “I know that you want to join me.” And then he adds:

This is him saying “I know you are angry at yourself and that’s why you fight me, but I don’t hold it against you. You can still join me.”

But she’s still in denial. And he loses his patience. He forces them to bind together and it’s over for Galadriel: he’s in. And she cries. This is not due to physical pain alone, because Elves are tough, and Galadriel herself, being thousands of years old, and a seasoned warrior, has known her share of physical pain.

And now she will join him. I know many speculate this was her deceiving him, but I don’t think so. When we look at the general picture, it’s clear: she’s, indeed, about to join Sauron. And he knows this, too.

Come on, Sauron plays 5D chess, he cannot be deceived (only by himself, really), and nor does Galadriel have the power to do it at this point in the story, and I don’t think she ever will, because that’s not her character arc. She’s growing in wisdom and power, she’ll become the “Lady of Light”, not into a deceiver like Sauron.

And it’s Nenya that snaps her out of it. Nenya has healing powers, which explains her final words of “do you wish to heal Middle-earth? Heal yourself.” And Galadriel’s voice doesn’t even sound like hers. It’s like it’s Nenya talking through her, in that moment. To prevent her from joining Sauron, and it’s Nenya that compels Galadriel to fall. And this also fits with Celebrimbor’s warning that the rings of power will destroy Sauron, earlier in the episode.

When she falls back, Galadriel doesn’t look resolved or determined into doing this, at all. She looks like she’s asking for Sauron’s help to prevent her from falling down the cliff. And he tries to help her, indeed.

He probably “cushioned” her fall too, because there is no way she could have survived that fall in one piece. And when he’s looking down, I think he wants to go down there and get her.

Because when Gil-galad, Arondir and Elrond show up, there is a huge change in his demeanor. He’s pissed, and kills Glûg to drive home this point.

[reccyls]

Beyond the Merging of Then and Now (Gilbert story)

Gilbert's 4th anniversary story sale, where child Gilbert is brought to the future to meet Emma and current Gilbert

---

Today, Prince Gilbert was in an unprecedented foul mood.

Young Gilbert: Miss, play with me.

Emma: Umm...

Gilbert: Absolutely not. Emma is mine, so you should back off.

Young Gilbert: But you're me as an adult, aren't you? So if something is yours, then it's mine too.

Young Gilbert: Ah, sorry. I didn't mean that you were a thing, miss. I'll be more careful with my words.

Young Gilbert: So... we really can't play?

(I have no idea why a child Gilbert appeared...)

(This must be the sweet and innocent version of Gilbert that I kept hearing about.)

(He's so much cuter than I thought, and so polite too!)

Emma: Of course we can. What do you want to play?

Young Gilbert: Really? I want to go for a walk!

Emma: I was just thinking that the weather today was perfect for a picnic.

Young Gilbert: A picnic!

Gilbert: Little rabbit, don't give in so easily.

Emma: I have to. He's just so cute I want to give him everything he asks for.

Gilbert: You don't give me everything I ask for.

Young Gilbert: You're so petty, adult me.

Young Gilbert: I'm feeling fine today. I can do it.

Gilbert: Because you're so useless that it disgusts me, young me.

Gilbert: And yet you still think you can take a single step outside of this room?

Gilbert: You have no idea how badly you're doing.

Young Gilbert: Miss, please believe me.

(That's right. Prince Gilbert had been sickly ever since he was young.)

(In that case, it'd be best for him not to push himself too hard--)

Emma: I... okay.

(Who could say no to those puppy dog eyes!)

Gilbert: ......

Emma: A-as soon as his condition takes a turn for the worse, we'll come back immediately.

Young Gilbert: ...I really turn out like that when I grow up?

Gilbert: ...Do you promise?

Gilbert: I'll sulk if you spend all your time paying attention to that thing instead of me.

Gilbert: You do, you little fool.

Emma: Gil...

Gilbert: You'll understand soon, just how stupid I was as a child.

--scene change, hallway--

Young Gilbert: Hah.... hah.....

Emma: Wha!? Are you okay!?

Young Gilbert: I'm okay...

Gilbert: What did I say? Don't just go along with what he wants.

Gilbert: No matter how healthy he claims to be, a few steps and this is what he's reduced to.

Gilbert: You can see for yourself right now, can't you?

Gilbert: How pathetic.

Emma: Anyway, let's go back inside now!

Young Gilbert: I don't want to.

Emma: But it's going to be really bad if you start getting any worse.

Young Gilbert: Albert says that all the time... He says I shouldn't leave my room...

Young Gilbert: But I want to feel the wind... Real wind, around my whole body. Not just the wind that comes in through the window... *cough*

Young Gilbert: Wait, miss... I'm okay, so just a little bit longer...

Gilbert: Albert told you time and time again why you shouldn't leave your room, and you just don't get it. Honestly, I'm starting to get angry.

Gilbert: Well, it doesn't matter. Time to keep your promise, little rabbit.

Emma: Ah! Right! Gil, is it okay to bring him to your research lab?

(Gil is right, it would probably be better to return inside immediately...)

(But I can't say no to little Gilbert!)

(What to do...)

Gilbert: What?

Emma: It's partially open, you can definitely feel the breeze there.

Young Gilbert: Research lab...?

Gilbert: No way.

Emma: After this I promise to do anything you want.

Gilbert: ...Well, if you put it like that, fine.

Emma: Thank you!

(I feel like I just made a very scary deal, but now's not the time to worry about that.)

Emma: Um, Little Gil? I'll carry you there, come here.

Young Gilbert: Really? Okay then-

Gilbert: You know there's no way I'd actually allow that, right?

Young Gilbert: Waaa!?

Emma: Gil! Don't just yank him up by the collar like that!

Gilbert: It's me, so it's fine.

Emma: Do you want me to break up with you!?

Gilbert: .......

Young Gilbert: Oooh, she got angry at you.

Gilbert: What's that? You want me to drop you?

Young Gilbert: I'm sorry, please don't drop me.

Gilbert: Ugh... Why won't you just disappear?

--scene change, research lab--

(...I thought Gilbert really liked kids.)

(Why does he hate his past self so much?)

Young Gilbert: Wow, this place is amazing! I didn't think the castle could have a room like this!

Young Gilbert: There's so many plants everywhere, and the wind feels really good... I want to stay here forever...

Young Gilbert: I don't feel like I'm really alive when I'm stuck in my room all day...

Young Gilbert: But if I stayed somewhere like this, I really feel alive.

Gilbert: ...You say that, and yet you're running a fever after just a few minutes in the breeze.

(He really, really wanted to go outside.)

(Is that why Prince Gilbert had this room made as an adult?)

Emma: Huh?

Young Gilbert: I-I don't have a fever.

(And that's not a suspicious denial at all... Come to think of it, his face does seem a little flushed.)

Emma: Little Gil?

Young Gilbert: This is normal.

Emma: Let me feel your forehead for a bit.

Emma: Oh no, you really are warm...

Gilbert: Of course I am. I'm not weak like you .

Young Gilbert: Ugh...

Young Gilbert: ...But adult me is okay?

Emma: Are you sure? You're not pushing yourself too hard?

Young Gilbert: That means I get all better when I grow up.

Young Gilbert: So I'm okay.

(...To say that to a young child...)

Young Gilbert: Mmhm. Um... I've always been weak, since I was born.

Young Gilbert: The doctor told me that I probably wouldn't live for very long.

Gilbert: ......

Young Gilbert: But, if this really is the future, then that means I survive.

Young Gilbert: I'm really happy to know that.

Emma: Gil...

Young Gilbert: Hey, if I can go and walk outside, that means I can help with official work too, right?

Young Gilbert: Is Albert doing okay? Do you help Albert with his work?

Young Gilbert: I always wanted to be able to help Albert when I got better.

Young Gilbert: And mother too... I have to take care of her too, because she always worries about me.

Young Gilbert: Where are they right now?

Young Gilbert: Miss? Why are you patting my head?

(........I'm sorry.)

(...I can't say any more than that.)

Emma: ...You're a good kid, Gil.

(He really doesn't know anything.)

(Not about the darkness in Obsidian, because his brother and mother had kept it hidden from him.)

(That must be why Prince Gilbert can't stand his child self.)

(Because his innocence is a result of ignorance.)

Young Gilbert: I am?

Emma: Yes, you are. I'm rooting for you to get better soon.

Young Gilbert: ...Thank you, miss.

Gilbert: Are you just going to pat him, when I'm standing right here?

Emma: ...Is it okay?

Gilbert: Of course it is.

Young Gilbert: But you're a grown up.

Gilbert: That doesn't matter. All that matters is that I like my little rabbit a lot.

Young Gilbert: I like her too!

Gilbert: Oh? Are you asking for a fight?

Emma: Stop right there, no fighting! Please get along with each other.

(.......)

Gilbert: It's impossible.

Gilbert: ...Looking at myself at this age, it's just too much.

With one hand, I ruffled Little Gil's hair, and the other did the same for the adult Prince Gilbert.

The movements were the same, but the underlying emotions behind each gesture was different...

Looking up at the sky, I felt my eyes blurring, just a little.

[sauronsgirl]

An Elvish Love

Gil Galad x Elf F!Reader

Warning: smut 18+

You are nervous. Even if he is your husband and has been nothing but kind and loving towards you, he is still the High King. You don't want to disappoint him. It's your first time and you want to please him.

-Do not worry Y/N. Our King is kind and patient and he loves you. It won't change because you are a virgin. In fact, I'm sure it will please him. says Galadriel with a soft smile.

-You really think so?

-Absolutely. Now go and don't worry if you are not ready he will understand.

-Thank you Galadriel.

You leave your best friend's room to go to yours, where you know the High King is waiting. Deep down you know he won't pressure you into anything, but still a part of you is insecure and want him to be pleased. You take a deep breath and enter the room.

Your husband is waiting by the window, looking at the stars lost in thoughts. He looks ethereal with the moonlight on his face, still wearing his golden robes and his crown. He is beautiful. And he is yours. The High King turns around when he hears you and smiles.

-Meleth nin. You're here. I've missed you today. he says.

-I've missed you too vero. Busy day as always?

Your husband sigh and you see the tension in his body. Immediately you join him on his side of the room and take his hands in yours, comforting him. He smiles at the geasture.

-Tell me about it, it might make you feel better. you say softly.

-I don't want to trouble you with such problematics matters. No, it's kind of you to offer but I would like to be with you without talking about the kingdom.

-Okay, well I actually had an idea while coming here. you say blushing.

-Tell me. I'm intrigued.

-I though...well since we have been married for quite some time now... well could...consumate our union. you say shyly.

The High King smiles at your shyness and you can see he likes the idea. Very much.

-I would love nothing more than lay with you my love, but are you sure? I don't want to pressure you. he says.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him swilfty.

-I'm more than sure vero. I really want you.

-In that case, I will happily give wife what she wants from me.

The High King leans down to kiss you softly. You moans and put your hands in his longs brown locks. One thing leading to another, it's not long before you are laying naked on the bed, with Gil Galad between your legs. He makes you see stars two times with his tongue and fingers before entering you slowly with his cock.

It hurts at first, but with his preparations the pain soon turns into great pleasure.

-Oh my king... don't stop please.. you whisper in his ear as he moves at a steady pace.

-You're taking me so well Y/N. he praises you.

He kisses you passionately as you grab his hair and back to hold him close to you. That way you feel him much deeper and you are about to come.

-Ereinion I'm going to... you moan in pleasure.

-Let go for me my love. Let me feel you come around me.

You climax at his command, your vision going white in extasy. Your release triggers his and the High King groans in pleasure as he spills his seed deep into you.

You return to reality as your husband pulls out and lay at your side breathless. You are feeling sore but in a good way and really tired.

-Was...was it good for you? you ask him blushing.

-My love, it was more than perfect. I've loved it and adore you more than any word could express it. replies your husband smiling kindly.

He takes your left hand in his and kisses the back of it. You blush then yawn making him laugh.

-Sleep my love, you did so well for me. I'll be here tomorrow morning.

You fall asleep with a smile. You had nothing to fear at all. In fact, you realize now what you've been missing in these last few months.

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Gil-galad is just a big softy under his arrogant and gruff exterior:

He doesn't punish Galadriel for helping Sauron return. I know it wasn't entirely her fault, but she is an army commander! Imagine if an army commander in modern times, even inadvertently, helped a terrorist enter a country, helped said terrorist gain trust and prestige, and then, upon finding out who their new crush was, delayed telling people and therefore left them vulnerable to attacks. People would at least expect the commander to be fired. Gil-galad doesn't do that. He says some harsh, but true, words and lets her go on a journey to Eregion, with the only thing that could vaguely be considered punishment being having Elrond lead the group.

Elrond defied him by refusing to tell him if there was mithril. Then Elrond refused to give him the rings, and even tried to have Cirdan destroy them. What does Gil-galad do? He gives Elrond command over the group headed to Eregion and then over an entire army.

And when all is over, and Gil-galad could have said that by not telling Celebrimbor who Halbrand was, Galadriel left him vulnerable to his attack and that therefore her judgment was questionable, he decided that she'd suffered enough and asked her advice on how to proceed.

Conclusion: Gil-galad is an absolute teddy bear.

[niennawept]

I want to combine my two favorite unhinged fan theory factories into one:

Gil-galad is Adar's son

Okay, now that I have your attention, let's go on a journey that starts with two things:

Thing the first: I really love people's unhinged theories that Adar is a canon character. I don't think he is; I think he's just some guy that Rings of Power made up but it amuses me to no end when people come up with convoluted theories to make him a guy from canon.

Thing the second: The Silmarillion fandom has a long-standing in-joke about who Gil-galad's father really is. Christopher Tolkien told us that it was Fingon in the Silmarillion and later regretted it, because there was so much confusion in his father's notes on the subject and so many different candidates. Cue all kinds of cracky theories of who Gil galad's gil-gal-dad is. I would like to submit mine.

How does this theory work?

Well it's quite simple actually. Adar and some elven thrall lady hit it off in Angband and have a kid together kinda by accident through weird Angband-based magic. That is a problem because now she's got this like elf-looking baby that has black blood and also Angband is no place for an elf-looking baby. This could get them both into extremely capital 'b' - Bad - trouble.

So, Adar takes that baby and he sneaks into an elven camp and he does that old movie trope where he leaves the baby on the doorstep and then makes a noise so that that people inside the house will hear it. Only this time, it's a war tent and the person inside is Fingon.

Fingon picks up this adorable baby and the baby kind of looks like him and he's like well - I could adopt this baby right? So he goes back to a fort with this baby and Fingolfin takes one look at his son and takes one look at that baby and says to himself "my very gay son did probably did not produce this baby. However, it is probably the only grandchild I will get from him and he is my heir." So welcome home, son and grandson.

Is there any evidence?

Exhibit A: The GIF set that started it all. Look at the similarities! Connect the dots! And thank you, @fukutomichi, for starting off this crazy unhinged theory.

Exhibit B: During Season 2, Episode 1 "Elven Kings Under the Sky", there is a moment where the camera lingers on Adar while Gil-galad is singing his song. Now they actually probably did that because they wanted to remind the audience that Adar was formerly an elf, but this is an unhinged theory, so we're going to ignore the obvious reason they did that and assume that they're trying to connect them for some reason. Yes, that's right. They're trying to tell us that Gil-galad is Adar's son.

Exhibit C: Their their armor matches. The gorget that Gil-galad is wearing in Season 1, Episode 5 "Partings" is a perfect match to the river pattern that Adar is wearing on his armor. Coincidence? Normally, I'd say yes, but in this unhinged theory, I think not.

Exhibit D: In one version of the story, Gil-galad is his mother-name. Is that because his father-name is not elven? Is it because it's potentially uruk in origin?! And don't come at me with that Ereinion nonsense."Scion of kings?"* Sounds like someone's trying to underline a point there, eh? Almost like they're worried people won't think he's kingly enough.

Exhibit E: Gil-galad, despite ample time and opportunity, never marries or produces an heir. Why? Because he knows. He knows that if he does, some one will be close enough to learn his deep, dark secret: he has black blood and his child might too.

Are there holes in this theory? Absolutely; all the evidence is circumstantial at best. Do I care? Nope. This is for the pure, unhinged fun of it. Anyhow, if you need me I'll be headcanoning this for the rest of the run of Rings of Power until they show me Gil-galad's blood, mmmkay?

Thank you to @hellofeanor, @fishing4stars, @baddybaddyadardaddy for spitballing with me.

[danger-xylophones]

King’s Herald Part 4

warnings: feminine titles (i.e. princess), Elrond has a slight OOC moment (it's for a reason, I promise)

masterlist | elves | king's herald navi

"Welcome home, ingaranel nin." Elrond's voice seemed to cut through the welcomings of all the other lords and ladies seated at the table.

"Thank you, Herald Elrond." You met his eyes and offered a solemn bow of your head, a sinking feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach.

Gil Galad looked between the two of you, "You've met?"

"Earlier, atar." You answered, thankful for the excuse to pull your gaze away from the young herald's.

"The princess and I met on the outskirts of the gardens earlier today, my lord." Elrond piped up, filling in the gaps you didn't wish to.

"I see," Gil Galad eventually uttered, "Well, I'm glad to hear you are acquainted. Please," he moved back to his seat at the head of the table, "Seat yourself."

With a small nod to your father, you averted your eyes and swiftly scanned for a place to sit. Currently there was one unoccupied seat towards the other end of the table. Away from Elrond so you could avoid any awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, just as you made a move towards it, a courtier seated next to Elrond sprung to his feet. "Oh, please, ingaranel, take my seat. It's at least closer to your father." He waved his hands in a subservient dismissal and scurried over to the chair.

"Oh," you gaped at him for a moment, stunned by the bad luck, "thank you, my lord." But, to keep face, you made towards the seat beside Elrond without raising a fuss. Without making eye contact, you settled into the chair beside him. He pointedly avoided looking at you, eyes fixed on the table. To avoid looking at him yourself, you looked up at Cirdan whose eyes had become set as he glanced between you and Elrond. Your face warmed, recognizing the look. He was disappointed.

"So, anel, tell me - how was the Greenwood?" Gil Galad's warm voice saved you for a moment, allowing you the chance to focus elsewhere.

"Good, atar. I would say I learned much under King Oropher." You began, folding your hands on the table and leaning forward to see around Elrond. "They have started attempts training owls to hunt for them. It's quite fascinating."

"Really?" He hummed, reaching for a goblet of wine. "How are these attempts going?" he took a sip and a courtier on the other side of the table mimicked him.

"Slowly, if I am honest." A servant appeared from seemingly nowhere to pour you your own goblet. You startled at their appearance. "Owls are stubborn creatures by nature. And seem..." you pursed your lips in thought, "disinclined to domestication."

Gil Galad hummed and set his cup down. "I recall Oropher's obsession with owls, he seemed to believe he could turn them into messengers." A bell rang as he finished speaking and a small crowd of servants appeared from the direction of the kitchen. They laid out a small feast on the table in absolute silence before bowing and leaving. You watched them go, hands falling to your lap. "Of course, I can't blame him for wanting a better way to communicate across his kingdom." Gil Galad broke the silence, resuming his thought where he left off. Carefully he served himself a few cuts of what looked to be duck before passing the ornate plate of food to his right. Elrond took it from him with a small nod. "We have been perfecting this with falcons ourselves."

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Elrond served himself and began to pass the plate towards you. "Really?" you hummed, accepting the plate and repeating the same process before passing it off. "And how are those attempts going?"

You saw your father's lips quirk into a swift grin as he procured a roll and started the process of passing food all over again. "Rather well, actually. The falcons are fast learners as well as fast flyers." He took a small bite of what you had correctly determined to be duck. "I am able to announce a decree across the entire kingdom in just four days now."

"As opposed to twenty when I was last here." You joked lightly. Despite Oropher's slow progress, he was making progress. Soon, your father wouldn't be able to be so boastful.

"Thankfully, those days are behind us, anel." A silence descended on the table, making you shift uncomfortably.

When the atmosphere became too suffocating, you looked to Cirdan. "Oh, Cirdan, Prince Thranduil had a question for you."

Cirdan lifted his gaze from his plate, a quizzical look on his face. "Oh? And what might the young elf want to know?"

"He wanted to know the best schematics for a boat that might potentially have to cut through ice."

"Really now?" Cirdan hummed, washing down a bite of greens with what looked to be water. "Quite a specific thing to want to know about."

"He's thinking of establishing trade with a nearby human settlement. Esgaroth? I think? Regardless, they're settled on the other side of the lake bordering the Greenwood." You took a small bite of food yourself. "Problem is, the lake starts to freeze every winter. Never fully, but enough that the people of Esgaroth are hesitant to trade during winter."

"Makes sense," Cirdan hummed, "I'd imagine they've built their livelihoods on fishing. Wouldn't want to risk damaging their boats during the winter then." He paused, a hand to his chin. "I'd have to think about this, ingaranel. I imagine if you could find a way to reinforce the hull you'd be relatively safe-"

"Tell me, anel," Gil Galad's voice cut through Cirdan's quiet musings. "Oropher spoke of how close you and Thranduil have gotten, do you have something to tell me?"

It was like someone had slapped you. You turned your head to your father so fast, skin unbearably warm. "Father, please. There is nothing between me and the prince. I adore him but he is like a brother to me."

Gil Galad raised an eyebrow, his face perfectly placid to contrast your outburst. "Easy, daughter. I meant no offense. I am aware that Oropher hoped you would fall for his son. I am glad you did not."

"I'm sure you are," you muttered under your breath as you shoved a forkful of food into your mouth. Beside you, you heard Elrond let out a funny little breath that you might've described as a laugh.

"Still, are there any courtships I should know about?" Gil Galad pressed.

You looked up sharply,

"What? It is a reasonable question." He pushed back.

You sent Cirdan a dry look only to find the shipmaster laughing into his goblet. You kicked him under the table.

"No. There is no one."

"A pity." He hummed. "Are you looking to find someone?"

"Atar, this is hardly the place-"

"I'm just making conversation-"

"Will you drop it?"

Gasps echoed from the far end of the table and you turned to find the gathered courtiers looking offended on behalf of the king. But, instead of feeling ashamed, you felt the familiar spark of indignation ignite in your belly. Were you not allowed to argue with your father? He was your atar before he became king.

"Sire, if I may-" one of the courtiers began to speak and your attention quickly zeroed in on him. He was a noldorian, tall with a thin, pale face and slightly too-big grey eyes. He was dressed in a deep maroon that brought out the silver of his hair. But you couldn't find it in yourself to appreciate your fellow elf's aesthetic beauty. Not when he was most likely going to tell your father that you were out of line.

"Please, Inariel, I do not need your input." Gil Galad raised a single hand and the elf sunk into his seat. "My apologies, anel. I meant no offense." He lowered his hand to his cup and lifted it in a sort of cheers, "Truce?"

"Truce." You nodded and returned to your plate, your head bowed in a mix of shame and vindication. King or not, Gil Galad was your father and you would speak to him as such. You would not be made to feel ashamed for it....

"May I be excused, atar?" You set your fork down with a quiet clink and raised your head to meet the king's gaze. He nodded a quiet ascent. Placing your napkin on your lap, you pushed your chair back and rose from your seat.

"Do you need an escort, anel?" He asked, eyeing you evenly. You were about to say no but thought better of it since your father knew of your propensity to get lost more than anyone. "Very well. Elrond, since you two are acquainted, would you mind showing my daughter to her room?"

Elrond, who had been just about to take a bite of his meal paused and slowly lowered his fork. "Of course, my king." He rose from his seat and offered an arm to you, "my lady?"

You took it, movements stilted as you tried your best not to show how uncomfortable you were. His arm, in turn, was hooked at an unnaturally sharp angle - jutting out from his side like a protruding bone.

Without need for further fanfare, he escorted you out of the dining hall and down an adjoining hallway.

The halls were darkened, the wall mounted candles dimmed by translucent, cream colored vellum domes placed around them. The softened light was meant to make you feel relaxed but it did little to abate the tension plaguing you and your companion.

Elrond walked with his head held high, his face placid, and posture ridiculously straight - he looked very much the part of a herald. And the part of a stick in the mud.

Gone was the gentle smile and relaxed air from your brief meeting in the gardens. Eradicated and replaced by the dry, boring energy of the elf beside you.

You found yourself worrying your bottom lip, torn between feeling sure that you had every right not to disclose who you were and shame at the thought that you had lied to Elrond and possibly embarrassed him.

"El..." you trailed off, perhaps you should act your role considering he was. "Herald Elrond," you amended, "I am...sorry for my deception earlier." He said nothing but you saw his eyes drift to your face. "While I don't think I needed to inform you of my station, I am sorry if I offended you by not doing so. Truly, it was not my intention."

Elrond made a sound you would liken to a scoff. But he did not speak, not until he had come to a stop before an ornate door you recognized as yours. "Tell me, ingaranel, if that was not your intention then why continue on a path that would ensure it happens?"

Anger surged, the insult not lost on you. "Forgive me, Elrond, I did not wish to be treated like your ruler so I did not disclose myself as such."

"You have made me seem dishonest." Elrond wrenched his arm from yours, his voice biting and exact.

"My choice to surprise my father is not a reflection on you."

"Now he knows I knew you were here and did not tell him."

"So tell him I commanded you not to say anything."

"I do not answer to you, ingaranel, not in the same way I answer to the High King. His word is law, yours is suggestion." The half-elf snapped and you found yourself taken aback.

"I am offering you an explanation for him and you refuse to take it. My father and his retainers will not blame you for following my command. They are used to my ways, and it is on their heads for thinking I would deviate." You found yourself hissing at the herald before you.

"Your ways are not the ways of Lindon." Elrond's voice was clipped, almost dark.

"Precisely, what is that supposed to mean?" you tried to keep your voice level but could hear even for yourself the depth of your seething.

Elrond stood up a little straighter and leveled you with an icy stare unbecoming of his warm eyes. "I have heard of your escapades and lack of decorum and seen them demonstrated for myself. It is of little wonder to me now why Gil Galad sent you to the Greenwood."

Stunned into silence, you could do little but stare at Elrond as you processed what he had said and the seemingly uncharacteristic venom in his words.

You both stood staring at each other, neither speaking whether because you could not think of what to say or because a passing party of elleth's had begun whispering to each other after spying you and the herald.

At length, you had enough and opened the door to your room. You were intending to simply shut the door without another word to the herald but some small, petty part of you screamed a better idea. Before you fully shut the door, you poked your head out at the herald. "Since my word is suggestion, allow me to make one, Herald Elrond," you raised your eyes to his and held him with the iciest stare you could manage, "Mind your tongue. I have no quarrel with you so do not force me to have one." Elrond's lips twitched but you continued before he had the chance to say anything. "Tell Cirdan that I would like to meet with him on the morrow. I will be at the Gray Havens come dawn's light."

"The King's welcoming ceremony for you is supposed to start at dawn." He stated, not breaking your stare.

"A pity, I won't be attending until noon." You started to close the door until Elrond wedged his boot in the way.

"He will not be pleased." The Herald insisted, holding the door open.

"I will not be pleased if I am set on display," you pressed the door harder against Elrond's foot, setting your own up to push his boot back, "He may speak to me about it if it truly bothers him and not through his herald. Good night, Elrond." With a firm kick to the bottom of his boot, you dislodged his foot from the doorway and slammed the door in the herald's face.

[thesummerestsolstice]

I've already shared several of my Elrond in Valinor headcanons, but here's another one: by the beginning of the Fourth Age, so many fragmented stories about Elrond have made their way to Valinor that no one is sure what's real and what's fake.

Some people insist that he speaks Quenya with a decidedly Feanorian accent, while others are sure that he was taught Quenya by Gil-Galad after leaving the Feanorians' custody, and speaks with the same, somewhat nondescript accent instead. Galdor absolutely insists that Elrond spoke Quenya just like Turgon– with an accent that was traditional, but very much not Feanorian.

On the topic of Gil-Galad, some insist that they were friends, but others say they were uneasy allies– partners in crime, says Oropher, but no one listens to him. Gil-Galad made Elrond his herald because he didn't trust Elrond with a higher position– or because he trusted Elrond so much that he refused to let anyone else speak for him on diplomatic matters. Maybe they hated each other. Maybe they loved each other. At least one elf insists that they were, in fact, the same person. (no one puts much stock in that last theory, but still!)

Elrond is a healer, that's clear, but how he heals is a matter of fierce contention. People say he uses healing songs, but if he does, they aren't normal songs of power– none of the Valinorian healers seem to be able to use his songs for healing, and some of them aren't even in an elvish language. Then there are the stories about "healing the wounds of the fea," something that most people say must be some latent Maia power, but when this healing is described, it seems to be mostly just... talking? And medicine, sometimes, but no one can imagine how those things might heal a soul. At least one elf claims to have had her leg sewn back on by Elrond, and most think she's just exaggerating, but so many strange, seemingly-impossible stories about Elrond's healing powers have been told that no one's really sure anymore. (Also, apparently he's also a warrior too? Doesn't fighting usually mess with healing powers??)

Also, several elves have been very clear that Elrond is, in fact, nearly indistiguishable from any other elf, aside from slightly rounder ears. But no, others are absolutely certain that there is something distinctly mannish, in his face, in his body, in the way he moves. And that's not even getting into all the stories of his strange, Ainuric power, or the moments when he seems to be something else entirely. He's a very normal Peredhel, or sometimes he has wings, or you'd think he was any other Sindar, or stars glimmer in his hair, or he looks so Noldor that no one could ignore it. Or the fact that no one can agree on who it is he most looks like– Luthien, Turgon, Earendil, Elwing, Tuor, Melian.

So by the time Elrond shows up in Valinor, you'd best believe that everyone is waiting at the docks, mostly to find out what this "Elrond Peredhel" is actually like, and how many of the rumors they've heard about him are true.

(They all then get ambushed by Bilbo Baggins while Elrond goes to find a nice valley to build a new homely house in.)