#Maglor x Reader

[mur4sak1]

What might be the Pokemon of the elves of the silmarillion?

The arts are not mine, the credit goes to the artists.

Hello! I know it’s a very stupid idea but with the end of "Epic: The Musical" all the people started to edit with their favourite pokemon and I immediately thought: "hey, why has no one ever thought about what could be the adventure companions of some of our beloved elves?" (Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3)

Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Rog, Galdor, Caranthir, Fingon

Maedhros: Arcanine

“Arcanine are highly prized Pokémon, admired by many for their beauty and regal nature. Arcanine has been seen storing food (such as Pecha Berries) in the voluminous fur of its mane, and then feeding it to the baby Growlithes when they return to their nest.” I’ll be honest, I don’t see Charizard as a suitable Pokémon for Maaedhros at all. Maybe it would be before Angband when his whole life was centered around fighting and building his character, but after the torture, oh boy, he just needs love. So, why not a giant dog to heal him and distract him from his duties? Then just imagine how it would heal his soul to see him play with Elrond and Elros and feed them berries as if they were his puppies… and yes, those two twins would really be his children in the eyes of the red-haired elf.

Maglor: Lapras

The pokedex describes Lapras as “a social Pokémon that crosses the sea on the surface in large schools and goes into the depths of the sea only when it is looking for food. They are very docile and do not like to fight; they are currently very rare in nature. Their song is known in all the oceans. They are very intelligent and understand human language.” In short, it is literally perfect for Maglor. We all know how he left his land and his mother to protect his brothers from the violent ambitions of his father (I talked about it better in the specific part of Maglor that you can find here), crossing the entire ocean and reaching a completely unknown land. When necessary, however, he did not hesitate to show his hardest and most aggressive side, exactly like the Pokémon in the moments in which he had to venture into the depths of the sea and face all the dangers that it possessed. It is extremely sensitive and humble as an elf, a type of kindness and empathy extremely rare in Tolkien's world. Also, as we all know, Maglor’s distinctive element was his love for music and singing, just like Lapras. Singing melodies was a way for him to unload his responsibilities and frustrations without fear of weighing on anyone. It was also his way of communicating when the words of his language were no longer enough to express the pain he felt. I am sure that seeing so much of himself in a Pokémon would give him an unparalleled relief.

Celegorm: Luxray

“Luxray are extremely fierce predators, but if trained properly, they can become very loyal and faithful enough to protect their Trainer in times of danger. However, if Luxray is overused, it can become antagonistic and vengeful towards its Trainer. Luxray require a lot of pity and praise to feel satisfied, as they are highly proud creatures.” While Celegorm's selfish and proud nature is a perfect fit for a Pokémon like Toxtricity (Low Forme), I believe it would be able to form an even deeper bond with a Luxray. Celegorm seeks loyalty, respect and courage in those around it, and in a Luxray, it would see a partner who shares these same values. Such a bond would be based on a mutual give and take, with shared affection and understanding. Together, they would grow and learn, sometimes making mistakes, but never judging each other for not being perfect. In the end, however, Luxray would reveal himself to be Huan's alter-ego in a new form: he would remain at Celegorm's side, even in death, but would not hesitate to turn his back on him if his actions starts to go against his moral principles. In this way, Luxray would not only be a companion in battle, but also a reflection of the certainties that Celegorm seeks so much, but which, like any loyalty, must be earned and respected.

Rog: Bastiodon

“Despite his aggressive appearance, Bastiodon has a shy and caring nature. Bastiodon will do anything to protect the little ones in the pack.” Don’t ask me why, but in my head their first meeting went something like this: they meet, a little Shieldon without a family sees him, Rog looks him up and down, the pokemon starts to follow him, Rog turns around, tells him to go away, continues walking on his way, but then turns around and finds him still behind. PLEASE THEY ARE PERFECT TOGETHER! Rog is cold, distrustful and lonely, his Bastiodon is shy and clingy. Rog needs to feel useful to someone, Bastiodon needs love and a home. They would work in the dark of the forges together every moment and when the elf started looking for a tool he needed, he would turn around and find it in the mouth of little Bastion, ready to be useful with a smile on his face. Needless to say, they would protect each other's lives.

Galdor: Torterra

“Torterra is a Pokémon that tends to be non-violent. It is calm and patient, and will not be upset even if a Pokémon nests on its back.” Torterra is a solid and powerful Pokémon that represents the strength of the earth and nature. It has a massive and serious appearance, with a figure that suggests resistance and stability. If Galdor needed a partner that symbolizes his determination and commitment to protecting others, Torterra would be an excellent choice. It is also an extremely peaceful and altruistic Pokémon. The Torterra shell is an ecosystem in itself, and often many small Pokémon build a nest on it and remain there for their entire lives, without incurring any anger from the host. “Interestingly, the shell is built in such a way that it can absorb any impacts, so even during battles, the Pokémon that live on them do not suffer any damage.” And then, come on, it has a tree on its shell! I can already imagine Galdor naming his house after his Pokémon.

Caranthir: Marowak

“After evolving, Marowak has overcome the pain it felt in the Cubone state of never seeing its mother. Its behavior has become ferocious and wild.” I honestly don't think I need to add anything else, the description speaks for itself.

Fingon: Lucario

“Lucario are considered proud creatures and are extremely loyal to their Trainer. Lucario also seem to have an innate sense of justice, and given their ability to read the thoughts and emotions of others, they only trust those who have a strong sense of justice.” In short, if we were to only consider these characteristics, Lucario would entrust its very life to Fingon. The relationship between the two would not only be that of allies, but of true soul mates. Lucario, thanks to its ability to perceive and understand the aura of people, would recognize in Fingon the sincerity of his intentions and his refusal to bend to fear or hatred. The elf's persevering and altruistic character is known to all, qualities that would offer him the opportunity to bond with one of the few Pokémon in all of Arda that refused human contact. Fingon, on the other hand, would appreciate Lucario's sense of unwavering loyalty and balance between strength and wisdom. He would see Lucario not only as an ally in battle, but as a companion with whom he could share his mission of building bridges between divided peoples, just as he had tried to do with the sons of Fëanor and the rest of his people. They would be each other’s guides.

[sh1-n0bu]

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

[doodle-pops]

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

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[animatorweirdo]

Feanorians: Being Their Soulmate...

Different soulmate troupes with the Feanorians.

Requested by Anon

Hi animatorweirdo!

Can I send in a request for different soulmate tropes for the Feanorians and when they find their soulmate? (for example, tropes like the red-string of fate, timer countdown, having a tattoo that symbolizes them on your body, etc).

Thank you so much and I can't wait to see what you come up with!!

(Author note: I didn't do Curufin and the twins as I could not come up with anything with them. )

Warnings: mentions of the book events, mentions of Maedhros's captivity, loss of a hand, separation, reluctance, the oath, doom, and rejection.

--------------------------------------------------------

Maedhros —  Tattoo 

- Maedhros would have a small tattoo on the back of his right hand, right below his thumb and index finger. He would have been confused the first time it appeared, but then he would be excited when his parents or someone else told him it was the mark of his soulmate. 

- He had been given a tattoo that represented his soulmate. His soulmate would bear a tattoo on the same spot that represented him and he would know once he had seen them. 

- Growing up in Valinor he would check people’s hands to see if they had a tattoo on the same spot as him. 

- If you two met in Valinor, he would find a small star on the back of your right hand below your thumb and index. 

- He would be delighted to have finally found you, and most likely would have not hesitated to get to know you and start a relationship with you. His family would be happy for him. 

- However, if you two met in Middle Earth. His feelings about finding his soulmate would be much more complicated. 

- For example, the great enemy mocking the mark of his soulmate and threatening to find them would have left him reluctant to ever find his soulmate. Losing his right hand would have solidified his decision. 

- He would stare at his missing hand from time to time, remembering the mark of his soulmate. He would hope his soulmate would never find him as his reputation would certainly tarnish theirs. 

- If you two did manage to meet, he would feel strange pulling toward you. If you two clicked very well, he would mistake it for simple crushing or fondness. However, that would not be the case when he sees the star on your right hand. 

- Realizing you were his soulmate would cause him to distance himself away from you, startled and anxious to realize you were his one. He would then make a hard decision, to either give himself this chance to feel your love or push you away and possibly save you from the doom that followed him. 

- If he decided to embrace the fact and allow himself to be selfish just once, Maedhros would not reveal you were soulmates but enjoy your company. He would have decided to enjoy it while it lasted because relationships would not last during wars. His feelings for you would have grown but he would have kept it as a good friendship, and it would have hurt less when you two had to separate. 

- If he decided to distance himself and cut ties with you, his soul would ache for your presence and he would feel miserable for causing you to feel sad and confused by his sudden distance. He would have most likely been harsh and explained that you two couldn’t talk to each other, growing the drift between you. 

- Making you leave would be the hardest decision he had ever made. However, it would ease his soul to know you would not be doomed by him and his oath. 

- If there was a chance Eru took pity on you, he would either allow you to meet again in better circumstances or let you have someone else for a soulmate. 

Maglor — Red string of fate

- (Because I think Maglor would love tragic love stories, the red string of fate would be fitting for him.)

- Maglor would be blooming with excitement when one day he saw a red string attached to his finger. He would have read all about the red string of fate and would have most likely been eager to go on an adventure to find his soulmate, the red string being his guide. Unfortunately, he was too young to go on his own. 

- Growing up, he would occasionally check on the red string to see if his soulmate was nearby as the red string would extend or become more clear when his soulmate was near. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would have happened during a party or one of his performances. He would be surprised to see the red string suddenly become visible and lead his eyes upon you. However, it would not have been an unwelcome surprise and he would have jumped on the first chance to talk with you. 

- His search would finally be over after meeting you and his family would have to suffer his constant serenading of finding his soulmate. 

- However, if you met on Middle Earth, his feelings would be slightly reluctant, but not opposed to it. 

- After the whole kin slaying and burning of the boats, he would have wished he would not find his soulmate. The red string went more distant, but he would be surprised to find the red string showing itself more one day. 

- He would be curious to find them and one day when he met you, he would feel happy. 

- He would be more open about revealing being his soulmate and having a relationship with you. However, since he and his kin were at war with Morgoth, the relationship would have to be kept as a secret. 

- However, if he decided you two would be better off without each other. He would send you away with good wishes and hopes that fate would allow you to meet again, and thus ends the tragic love story.

 

Celegorm — Dreams/Led by your pets

- As a hunter, I think Celegorm would have a prophetic dream about an animal that would lead him to his soulmate. 

- In his dreams, he would see an animal he is meant to find and follow to find his soulmate. He is a free spirit so he might find the dreams and the thought of having a soulmate slightly annoying. 

- However, if he came to meet with the said animal from his dreams he would not be opposed to following it and seeing what would happen. And when that happens, Huan would go missing and ignore his calls. 

- He would then find you with the animal and Huan who had led you to him. Perhaps that time, he would be more open and excited when he locked his eyes with you, especially if you two met in the woods of Valinor and the animal turned out to be your companion. 

- However, if you met in Middle Earth, I do not think Celegorm would not hesitate to have a relationship with you. If you both were hunters I think the relationship would go pretty smoothly. 

- But, if the oath comes between you, Celegorm might let you go in order for you to be safe from danger, or if you do not agree, and that he made it clear he would not give up the oath even for you. 

- Separation from you might cause him to become slightly more violent, but the thought of you being somewhere safe might ease it just a bit. 

Caranthir — Timer

 - A timer would suit Caranthir. 

- He would have been very confused when one day he found a clock drawn on his hand and it would not go away no matter how much he washed. 

- It would take both his parents to explain he had received a soulmate clock, which tells how long it would take to meet his soulmate: the more hours and minutes the farther away and the less how close his soulmate is. 

- The idea would not wrap around his head for a while, especially if the clock showed several hours, which only meant his soulmate was nowhere near. 

- He would be thrilled to find out when his clock reveals fewer minutes and would look around in curiosity till he found you. 

- I think he would be slightly shy, but would not avoid you. If you two click and you show your timer, then it would be the start of a beautiful relationship.

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, he would be skeptical about having a relationship with you. 

- Seeing there was no hope after his reputation as a kin slayer and war with Morgoth, he saw it would be best not to seek out his soulmate. 

- So, imagine the shock he would feel when he finds his timer running toward the end and eventually finding you. 

- In some parts of his soul he would have been thrilled, but due to his unfortunate circumstances, he might avoid revealing about being your soulmate. However, due to the tugging in his soul, he might make a friendly relationship with you. 

- He would feel ease from his anger, and it would slightly hurt him to know he might have to separate from you. 

- He would enjoy it while it lasted, before sending you off with heartfelt goodbyes. 

Celebrimbor — A strand of hair

- Celebrimbor would be surprised to find a strand of his hair had turned into a different color, but would be delighted when he learned it was the clue of his soulmate and that his soulmate would have a strand of his hair color. 

- He would not mind walking around with the new color and sometimes styling it while searching for the one who had his hair color. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would be joyful. 

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, his feelings on the matter would have died down. 

- But when he suddenly meets you one day and sees the dark strand of hair across your hair. He became frightened as he could feel tugging from within his very soul. 

- He should feel happy by his kin’s standards. He had been blessed by chance to meet his soulmate, but his past and the reputation of his house had left him reluctant. He had hidden the color of your hair in hopes he might not accidentally meet you or anyone who might figure out who his soulmate is. In his mind, you were not worthy to get tarnished by his house’s past, but fate, of course, has worked against him. 

- However, if you were not intimidated by his past, Celebrimbor’s fear might vanish and he might entertain the idea of getting to know you. It would take a lot of time to convince himself to finally reveal your hair color on his hair, and wait for your reaction as your hair colors would match and return to normal.

- If you were happy by the reveal, Celebrimbor might then be confident enough to have a relationship with you. However, he would let you go if you weren't eager by the reveal and decided to leave. He would not blame you, but he would feel a painful aching for your presence and heartache for your rejection.

[lamemaster]

Yandere the Silmarillion Elves

Request: Hello! May I request yandere headcanons for Maeglin and Maglor (separately), perhaps with a human reader? Also, I really love your blog you write incredible stories :))

Pairings: Maeglin x human reader & Maglor x human reader

Genre: Dark themes. Maeglin's is gorey >"<

AN: Thank you for requesting this! I enjoy writing dark themes and this definitely was my cup of tea. I hope you like it.

Next up- Finrod x Valyrian! Reader Fall trope event list

Maeglin- (yandere reader)

A mangled mess of limbs was how you found him, withering beneath the ruins of the fallen city.

Somehow, against all odds, he lived. An amalgamation of mass bound to a body. Condemned to survive in a body tortured by death’s refusal to grant him peace.

He had endured this state for nearly a year, trapped between life and death, as if the world itself were determined to deny him release.

And then, there was you. As a wandering bandit, the sight of Gondolin’s ruins had seemed a fortune, a treasure mine promising riches to last a lifetime.

Yet amid the remnants of shattered stone and splintered wooden furniture, there he lay—the last survivor of the city’s fall. The one who instigated it all.

The incestuous bastard who, miraculously, had survived it. Every elven bards’ latest villain, the one sung of in recent ballads with curses on their lips.

You lifted the broken elf, cradling his twisted form—if his position could even be called that. His eyes, devoid of lids, remained fixed on you, unblinking, raw from months of crying out for help that never came. Gods, even now, he was beautiful.

Thus began your labor. Five days passed as you set bones that had grown crooked with time, wrapped him in scraps of cloth salvaged from the ruins, and nursed him with poppy milk poured into his helpless lips. With his face streaked by dried tears, he grew drowsy, finally slipping into fevered dreams.

As he lay shivering in your arms, lost in visions of a life that had abandoned him, you brushed your hand over his unmarred skin, tracing the contours of his trembling eyelids.

You murmured softly, your voice a mix of promise and threat “I would never let anyone hurt you. They’d have to get through me first... and believe me, they wouldn’t make it.” As if your reassurance could pull him back from his dreams of the past life without you.

Here, in the grave of his past, he was yours. No one would come for the one even death had forsaken. He was yours alone, bound by fate’s cruelty and your own claim upon him.

Cupping his damp cheek, you grinned, a glint of madness in your eyes. “My darling incestuous bastard,” you whispered, a low cackle slipping from your lips.

Maglor- (yandere character)

Maglor would follow you into death. Not even Eru Himself could hope to take you from him. No one would ever take what was his, not again.

The wedding was swift. In fact, the secondborn Fëanorian had insisted upon it within weeks of meeting you, brushing aside your hesitations with fervent kisses.

Your concerns about the doom of mortality were hushed in whispers and promises; if death was a gift granted to Men, then Maglor would seize it back from its giver. His breaths would ebb and flow with yours. Nothing could alter that.

It was all he could do now. Time had sharpened his resolve, even blunted the burns of the Silmaril, leaving behind only faint scars.

He had glamoured away his past, letting his skin heal so he could become the perfect lover for you, forsaking his true name for a new one.

Peldis, he called himself. A mountain elf from distant valleys. By sheer luck, you hadn’t noticed the faint scent of brine lingering about him, nor the care he took in combing his tangled hair until it shone.

You hadn’t glimpsed the quiet ferocity with which he shed his former self to stand before you, a stranger made whole in the reflection of your wants.

It had been one fateful night, when the ache of the Silmaril consumed him, that he’d first seen you.

Or rather, he’d caught sight of you wading in moonlit waters, bare as the light itself, utterly unguarded. He hadn’t looked away. The years had been long, and the Fëanorian had been starved.

The vision of silvery moonlight tracing your body had entranced him, struck him with a longing sharper than any oath. 

You were it, he thought. The Silmaril reborn. Perhaps even better than any of his father’s works. You were more than a cursed jewel.

Like a viper shedding its skin, Maglor transformed himself into Peldis. A convenient presence in your village, a simple trader of carved wooden combs.

It had not taken him long to notice the way your own hair flowed down your back like silk, and he knew, watching you, that you would come to him.

From offering a delicate comb for your hair to placing the ring upon your finger, Maglor had orchestrated each moment, each touch.

The songs of your fairytale romance made it easy to draw you into his arms, into the warmth of your bed, far from prying eyes and whispers.

And there, as he held you close, his touch guiding you deeper into his embrace, he tugged your soul into a quiet submission, bending your will and your mind to his desire.

Maglor knew what was best for you. And in this life, that place was here, wrapped in his arms, your heart tethered to his.

Even in the harmony of the Timeless Halls, yours would be the song he would compose. His muse. His beloved. You were his, now and forever.

[the-daydreaming-show]

(I'm in love with the idea that) Maglor wandered Middle-earth so long that he became the last of the elves on the continent, refusing to die but unable to sail west, and one day he fainted on the beach. It is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last (?), whether due to lack of sleep, dehydration, hunger, or any of the torments that followed him. But when he gets up, he is not on the beach, he is in a cabin in the woods. He quickly deduces which woman of the race of men took pity on him and cared for him in his inconvenience.

Maglor wants nothing more than to return to his self-inflicted exile, to hate himself, and to be nothing more than a scrutiny of his own life, but he is very weak. The woman has placed heavy blankets over him, which are warm and comfortable, so before realizing it, he returns to unconsciousness. He feels from time to time that she feeds him liquid meals and takes care of his badly injured hand, whose pain is already chronic. Maglor doesn't know how long it took him to be able to get out of bed on his own, but it's been a while, and he's a gentleman at the end of the day. His mother raised him well despite all the mistakes he made by choice, but she taught him and his brothers how to treat a lady, regardless of her race.

Maglor helps the women tend to her gardens, makes sure her house is well taken care of while she works (in a job she doesn't talk about directly, is ambiguous about its specifications, and never really says what it is even though he directly asks a couple of times after several weeks of taking care of his voice at his request), and makes sure to be as helpful as possible. He doesn't plan to stay, he's simply staying to settle a debt that an innocent woman shouldn't have created with a relative killer like him. So he only wanted to free her from her presence as soon as possible once Maglor made up for the time she spent taking care of and the resources she used in taking care of him.

He doesn't leave. He stayed. The days pass. And although Maglor feels that his debt to her is paid, since his garden is more beautiful than ever, and he made sure that the house was in perfect condition, to the point that he has had to really look for things to do lately. He doesn't want to leave.

He married once, but she did not follow him to Beleriand. Still, despite the time, he recognizes the feeling that begins to brew in his fea and in his heart with every minute he spends with that woman. One day, when he helps her with the garden, they end up in a closer position than they should, their hands touching without gloves, and he almost loses his breath. There, he decided that he was leaving.

He loved her enough, his sweet human, who had gone out to help a fainted and desolate stranger on the beaches without expecting anything in return, to understand that if he didn't leave her now, he would never leave her. He couldn't allow his own condemnation to affect her. 

(Selfishly, Maglor also knew that he would not want to live beyond the day she joined death, which was the destiny of his race. And he did not believe he deserved the definitive end that was death, he was sure that the empty would not even be enough empty for him and his actions.)

The woman gently tries to convince him to stay, not too hard, as she seems resigned to the fate of him leaving, but she tries. Maeglo looks the same, smiling sadly at him, leaving the cabin behind with his harp on his back and heading towards where the sea should be.

But Maglor can't get to the beach. She can't even get out of the woods. He walks and walks, but three times he is taken back to the cabin, which remains intact but empty. He tries to the point of desperation, but he can't seem to get out. The last time he walks to the cabin, after days of trying to get out of the woods, the woman is waiting for him standing in front of the cabin, and she seems sad and embarrassed, but firm and ready for the conversation to come.

“What are you?” Maglor asks, straight to the point of the conversation, desperate to know what he had gotten himself into.

“I didn't want you to find out like this, I swear-”, the woman tries to explain with shame and desperateness to justify her lies.

“Answer me,” Maglor demands. The woman sighs shakily, but she finally answers.

“I have many names, in all languages ​​and for all races. But your people call me the Gift of Ilúvatar.”

Maglor could have fallen dead right there from fright and shock. Although he could potentially already be dead, he realized that the woman who had won her old and painful heart was nothing less than death itself.

He had fallen in love with the dead.

What does this mean?

How could this end for them?

Why did she lie to him?

Was he dead? Or was he kidnapped in some estrage way?

Did she follow the order of the Valar? Or Maybe of Eru himself?

Does she love him back?

That was really the only question he care about, as crazy as it may be.

[batsyforyou]

Squishing and Kissing the Elves Cheeks pt.2

Tags: dramatic form of affection, crack?

Author's Note: this is the current highest winning and I just decided to do Eonwe, this one as well as the pokémon one and the other. So, basiclly everything lol.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

Squishing and kissing Maeglin’s cheeks 

He has a very thin face so there isn’t much to grab and pinch but when you do grab and squish his face (much to his shock and horror) he’ll gape at you. And when you kiss him? He is so caught off guard he’ll shove you away in a panic. Red finger prints on his pale cheeks and with his labored breathing he’ll look like a cornered animal. 

He’ll demand to know what you were doing, “I was just trying to love on you, love.” You say. 

“Oh.” He gulps, his cheeks flaring with color. “Could you, could you do that again?” 

Essentially he is that meme, “What is this? Affection? Disgusting, do it again.” 

Squishing and kissing Turgon’s cheeks

He is beyond embarrassed 

Hates PDA so if you so much as reach to cup his face while outside he’ll flinch back so hard his face would catch fire. (blushing)

He’ll snap his head around while covering his mouth and look to see if any of his siblings saw you and if no one even glances in his direction he’ll calm down. 

If you try to squish his cheeks alone he’ll be just as embarrassed so he’ll pull back some while mumbling a complaint about having to bend down so far 

But don’t worry all you have to do is jut out your bottom lip and pout before he gives in. 

Letting you pinch and kiss his cheeks as he listens to your giggles with red ears. 

Squishing and kissing Maglor’s cheeks (Not finished) 

“Magpie?” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

Slowly approaches, “Would you be upset if I stole a few minutes of your time?” 

“Not at all!” Glancing up from his music sheets he cocked his head, “My love, I can hear your heart beating from here. What has sent your heart a flutter?” 

Frowning he scooted his chair back, “Celegorm hasn’t done something has he?” 

Giggling, you shook your head, “No, no! I just, you're so cute.” 

He smiled, patting his lap, and you hurriedly took his invitation, lifting your skirt over his legs to comfortably settle against his chest. “I do believe that is a trait to describe you.” 

Giggling, you pushed your face into the crook of his neck as he held you in his embrace. After a few minutes cuddling you pushed yourself back a little to meet his eye. 

Reaching up you squished his cheeks together and kissed his nose and other random spots on his face. 

With one more smacking kiss to his lips you grin, bumping his nose with yours, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over the apple of your cheeks he looked up at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“I love you, enterally.” 

Squishing and kissing Maedhros’s cheeks 

You’ll have to wait and make sure the elf is sitting at his desk if you even want to attempt getting him with your dramatic affection. Thinking Maedhros will shove you off you act fast, giggling as you rush to his side. 

“Melda? What are you-” Quickly taking a hold of his cheeks you squish them together and give him one singularly wet, smacking kiss and race off, laughter trailing in your wake. 

Stunned and confused, Maedhros ponders exactly what happened, a slow smile growing on his lips. 

By the next morning you were struggling to move from your bed, sitting at your bedside and staring at your bedroom floor, no thoughts were entering your mind. Seeing you on the bed Maedhros smirks, yanking on his belt to make sure it's secure he leans over to you and pinches your cheek with his one hand, leaving a passionate kiss onto your lips. 

“There.” He says. “Easy pickings.” 

It very quickly turns into a game of Cat and Mouse. 

It’ll happen in the corridors, at the dinner table and any place that holds no political importance. Leaving his brothers to roll their eyes and groan at their brothers show of sickening affection. 

And as the oldest, nothing makes him more happy, annoying his brothers and loving on his love. 

Squishing and kissing Curufin’s cheeks

You slowly approached him, taking careful sure-footed steps into his office you observed his still form. The constant scratch of his quill acted as a lure to distract your husband from what was about to happen. Feeling laughter bubble inside your chest you tightly bit your lips, 

So close ….. 

The elf grunted, “Don’t even think about it.” 

Feeling your ballooned excitement pierce with a pop, you sighed, his words mimicking his brother’s skill in archery. 

“How did you know?” 

Crossing your arms you gave up on being sneaky, instead strutting right up to his desk and plopping your butt on the corner. 

Counting his papers he licked his fingers and pulled a fresh paper from the stack, “Your first mistake was thinking that I would not recognize your presence in a room. To think I would not recognize your footfalls and the subtle minute traces of your scent, is insulting.” 

You raise a brow staring at him and as the minutes ticked on he sighed, “I could hear you through the wall.” 

You groan, dropping your back to stare at his intricately designed ceiling. Of freaking course he did. 

“Please Curufin? Please, let me have this.” 

Circling a set of numbers he marked Caranthir’s name beside it. 

“No.”

You pouted, “Pretty please? I won’t ask you for anything else all year!” 

“We both know that will never happen.” 

“Curufin.” You beg. 

Dropping his quill he rubbed at his temples, “Would it really make you that happy?” 

“Yes!” 

Sighing he leaned into his chair, burying his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves. 

“Fine.” 

Squealing you grabbed his face and planted a big fat kiss on him. Enjoying every minute  he lets you squish and kiss his cheeks. 

Squishing and kissing Erestor’s cheeks  

Pulls away almost immediately, the elf is snapping his face anyway from you so fast you practically hear the neck snap audio. 

He is so red in the face because he is so angry at himself for actually enjoying it and he feels so embarrassed over the fact that he can feel something grow in his heart. And just knowing that he likes being cooed at and loved so “Childishly” with a dramatic flair, he doesn’t want to look at himself. He is a hardened soldier who faced countless battles and struggles in his long immortal life. So being handled like that by you feels so good and so wrong at the same time. 

Essentially, he is that meme where people go, “This better not awaken anything in me.” lol 

Squishing and kissing Caranthir’s cheeks

Slamming the door to your shared chambers Cara grunted, yanking at his tunic and muttering under his breath. 

Peeking over the sofa you watched your love with interest, setting aside the book you’d been reading. 

“Cara?” 

Taking his boots he stepped on the heels, slipping his feet out and kicking them to the side. 

You tried again. 

“Cara, my love?” 

He grunted, near snorting at you as he fumbled with the buttons, struggling to pop them. His face stood as a testament to his mood, a blister red and his ears seemingly twitching at the heat. 

“Oh, my sweet baby.” You call. “Come sit and I’ll help you.” 

Ignoring you, he huffed and yanked at his clothes with the strength only an elf could carry. The fabric ripping off his back and shoulders, Caranthir pulled the garment from his arms and sighed. 

Finally free of his clothes, save his leggings, Caranthir trudged towards your spot on the couch and climbed into your lap, hiding his face in your stomach. 

Frowning, you gently reached into the small box under the side table and pulled a small brush from its contents. Humming a lullaby in a soothing tone you removed his braids and pins and brushed his hair until the tension in his back melted away. 

“Hard day?” You asked. 

The rumble of his voice hid itself in the folds of your shirt. “Worse than you know.” 

Pushing himself onto his back he rolled over to look up at you.

“Can you?” 

Grinning you tossed the brush into its box and took a hold of cheeks, “I’d love too.”

Masterlist

[lovelylovebug]

*You are a well-known ranger from Doriath and had been sent with the ambassadors to meet with the Noldoran princes for the first time*

Daeron: (Name) I know you love drama, but remember to behave yourself this time.

You: Relax, I'm not in the mood to cause drama. The faster we get this done, the faster we can go home.

Daeron: With you around, it can happen unexpectedly. I know you are supposed to protect us from harm, but you are also good at attracting trouble while keeping it away.

Daeron: We are now here.

You: Great we haven't been here for five seconds and the blond one already looks like a boasting ass.

*You arrive at the meeting place and see Celegorm talking about something. Your eyes are then caught upon someone behind him, and you feel yourself caught like a moth to a flame. You start approaching them.*

Celegorm: Relax brothers. These Sindaring elves do not seem any difficult to handle. I sway them to our side in no time.

Maglor: Brother, you can't even sway a turtle to like you.

Celegorm: Oh really? That Sindaring already looks enraptured by my beauty, and who wouldn't---!

*You swiftly walk past Celegorm and grab Maglor's hand as you kneel before him*

You: My good prince, I may not know your name, and you may not know mine, but I must say that you are perhaps one of the most beautiful men I have ever laid my eyes upon.

Celegorm: ???

Maglor: *faintly blushes*

Daeron: *shaking his head with a sight*

Maglor: Well, aren't you a bold one. We haven't even introduced ourselves and you already praise me with compliments. Are all Sindar elves like this, or do not simply train any restrain?

You: I always say what's on my mind. I had my doubts about your father being called the greatest craftsman ever known, but now I am convinced because you certainly are one of his finest creations.

Maglor also knelt in front of you and pulled his hand out of yours, only to cup your face with both of them. "You're well crafted too, my lady. In fact, I will dedicate my next song to you. But come now." He stood up again and pulled you with him in one elegant movement. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can escape and spend some time alone."

Maglor glanced back at Celegorm, who had merely pressed his lips into a thin line in anger.

[autumnshighlady]

if i wrote reader insert fics with characters from the Silmarillion would anyone read them?

[onthesandsofdreams]

My Heart Is Yours [11/200]

Fandom: The Silmarillion Pairing: Maglor x Modern Fem Reader (Pre-Relationship) Note: This is where I'll be putting the fics I titled 'Ever Love', I had forgotten I already had a series for Tolkien x Reader.

On AO3

You felt Maglor's eyes on you and turned, "What? Is something wrong?"

"Nay, I just…"

It was then when it hit you. "Ah, is my foreignness too obvious?"

Maglor hesitated, "If I say yes, would you be offended?"

You shrugged, "No. In this case, it's the truth. I mean, you go out for… ah patrolling your lands and find an unconscious woman who very clearly doesn't belong, honestly? I would be concerned if you weren't. I can't, for the life of mine figure how I even got here, and you are a Lord, not even mention a Prince, who is under constant attack by an enemy, yeah, I get it, you're weary."

"You are… taking this surprisingly well," Maglor blinked. "I would have expect more… ah, shall we say protestations."

"I can imagine. And under normal circumstances I would, and would be loud, but this is clearly not the world I was born into and I… well, I can hardly be throwing fits, I need your help," you looked around, "and it pains me to admit it, but your protection as well. So, I'll behave."

Maglor fixed his eyes on you and you did your best not to flinch. The elf had one intense stare, but you had not lied. This was not your world, clearly and you needed help, the best thing you could do was to earn the elf's trust just enough to a) not be killed, b) be protected and c) get help getting home. In the end, whatever it was that Maglor was looking for, he found something, he gave you a sharp nod. "Very well, but you do understand that I will need the truth, yes?"

"Of course, I would expect nothing else. And I rather be honest voluntarily than not."

Maglor flinched at that, "I would not torture you for that."

"I would hope not," you shrugged, "but in my world, some would. I rather not take any chances."

"How can you be so calm?"

"Oh, I am not. I am simply pretending to be calm, I'll probably cry and have a freak out when we are back in your… holdfast? Castle? Manor? But as long as we are in open ground, I'm keeping it together."

The Gaze returned, "Very well. And worry not, we are less than half a day ride from my Holdfast."

"Thank you, Maglor."

"You are welcome, my Lady."

"Maglor? Please call me Y/n."

[mur4sak1]

Elves with an insecure reader (part 1)

A/N: I apologize in advance but for this time I preferred to divide the story into two parts because I really wanted to deeply analyze this aspect of insecurity which I care a lot about. For this reason, putting them all together would have been too long and chaotic. There will be 4 characters in this one and 4 in the next one, who do you think they will be? (Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3)

For the following part click here -> Part 2

Characters: Galdor, Maedhros, Maglor, Glorfindel

Galdor: I think we can all agree that with Galdor by your side it would be IMPOSSIBLE to feel insecure. The brown elf is so loving and caring that, whenever you have any insecurity, he would shower you with sincere and affectionate praise, making you feel like the most precious creature in all of Belerian. He would never allow a doubt to creep into your heart, especially when it comes to the way you see or perceive yourself. If your insecurity issues were purely aesthetic, I can assure you that he would never make you doubt your beauty. In his eyes you are an angel, a pure soul that only deserves to be preserved and he would be the last elf in the world capable of making you compete with anyone else. He wouldn't look at any woman and would never do anything disrespectful towards you, so it would be more unique than rare to have this kind of insecurity with him. However, as regards non-aesthetic problems, which therefore come from you, he would be by your side like no other person could. Even before you could say anything, he would already be working on it. In fact, Galdor would have a natural talent in capturing the moments when his beloved is feeling down. He would notice it from the little things; the way your breathing becomes shorter and more held, your gaze lowering, or your body movements becoming slower and less confident. And promptly, as if it were written in his DNA, he would have the most suitable reactions to comfort you and bring you back to him. Even in moments of panic, where you could become aggressive and seemingly intractable, he always managed to make you calm down and realize how far from reality your paranoia was. One thing guys, he would NEVER judge you, he would NEVER belittle any of your fears, he would always and only try to make you understand how distant the monsters in your head were from real life, from you. He was always so kind, so reassuring, so perfect that it seemed unreal. Any praise he would offer you would be genuine, not dictated by the need to make you feel better, but because, in his eyes, your qualities are evident. And it hurts him so much every time to see how much pain he causes you needlessly. How can you not see how perfect you are? He would really like you to see yourself through his eyes…

Maedhros: I firmly believe that with Maedhros, your insecurities would definitely come from his role and family situation. Being the first son of the king he would certainly have countless expectations behind him and his role would require many responsibilities which would inevitably fall on you too. Most likely you didn't come from a noble family, you didn't have a large inheritance and in addition you weren't even a pure elf, so this created quite a few insecurities and shortcomings that couldn't be calmed. However, this did not interfere with your love. Maedhros has always been by your side from the first moment, supporting you and making you understand that he did not want any woman other than you, even if that other met the requirements expected from the wife of a future elven king. There had certainly been some attempt on Feanor's part to match his son with an elf of noble lineage before you were accepted by him, but without success. In fact, he always feared that you wanted his son for money and power, and he was indignant that, not being able to offer anything, you only wanted to rip out his heart and exploit it. But he soon realized that, despite the benefits that marriages between powerful people could provide, the feeling would be in vain, and therefore a useless force (on the other hand, remember that Maedhros never married, so I imagine that was not of vital importance for Feanor). It took a while to change his mind and make him realize that you really cared about him, and when that happened the situation calmed down slightly. Feanor's strong and greedy character was difficult to identify and you never understood if he had ever really accepted you or if he just tolerated you, and not being fully appreciated by him made you suffer a lot. But the fact that he knew how deep your love for his son was, was enough. Furthermore, the redhead would become even more sensitive and sweet after Angband. He himself had fought against his insecurities after his imprisonment and the pain caused by the loss of his hand... precisely for this reason he understood more than anyone else what it meant to feel vulnerable. You had always been by his side, you had never judged him for his fears and weaknesses, giving him all the strength he needed, so he would never have allowed himself to let you suffer alone. Maedhros would be patient, never forcing you to talk about your insecurities if you don't feel like it, but always remaining by your side, ready to offer you his comfort when you are ready to open up.

Maglor: Maglor would be very capable at dealing with an insecure person. Although he wasn't the eldest brother, he was certainly the most mature and empathetic in the family and for this reason he often found himself having to deal with little crying pests or giving them strength when they didn't feel up to Feanor's expectations. I want to clarify one thing, because I believe that in Maglor's eyes, having an insecure person alongside would be a great fortune. In fact, if on the paternal side traits such as strength, determination and pride were strengthened, on her side, Nerdanel placed great emphasis on maintaining humility and humanity, love for life and the attempt to preserve it. Their mother was in fact against all the atrocities that her husband wanted to commit and it was she who had kept his impulses in check for the first period of their marriage. However, when he urged the Noldor to abandon Valinor, she refused to follow him, remaining faithful to his values. The separation, however, caused great pain to Maglor who, in part, felt responsible for following them as the "only maternal and reasonable figure" who could stand by her brothers. He never wanted to leave his home but he was afraid of what could happen to them in the hands of his father's violent obsession with power. Consequently, for him it was like being able to always keep a part of your mother and all of her teachings alive in you, not having to always be forced to pretend to be "detached" to gain respect in a world much crueler than he would have ever imagined. In fact, when your insecurity arose, helping you overcome it made him feel good, made him feel useful. Maglor was also very unsure of himself, not in terms of his diplomatic or artistic skills, but in terms of feeling valid, feeling necessary. In fact, he thought he was not usefull and was a simple secondary character without any fundamental role... but when he helped others he felt important, as being someone's support, as his mother had taught him, becomes the necessary condition that allows your sun to shine, and you surely were all his light.

Glorfindel: Despite his imposing figure and status, Glorfindel would be very attentive to the feelings of the person he loves and would make it his main goal to eliminate even the smallest traces of insecurity or worry in you. But the way he would do it, oh boy, would it really make you laugh. Given how deep the love and the respect he has for you is, just to see you smile and stop the cold tears from staining your face, he would go so far as to embarrass himself; he would never worry about appearing uncomfortable in public if it meant making you feel better. In fact, very often, Glorfindel would resort to gestures that are both exaggerated and unexpected. Imagine finding him in the middle of the square in Gondolin telling some awkward joke or improvising some stupid interaction with the world around you to try to make you smile. If someone looked at him with perplexity, the blond elf wouldn't worry in the slightest: the only thing that matters to him is seeing your face shine again. And if that meant putting aside his heroic and dignified figure for a few minutes, he would do so without hesitation. His clumsiness is not just an attempt to distract you, but also a way to show you that you are much more important to him than his reputation or pride. And when he finally sees your expression relax and your eyes shine again, he would approach you with a disarming tenderness. "You see?" he would say with a playful smile but a very serious tone, "If I can make fun of myself to make you feel better, then no doubt or insecurity should ever faze you. You are much stronger than all of that."

[nataliabdraws]

darling heart, i loved you from the start (I)

pairing: maglor x original female character

summary: at the start of the fourth age, olwyn gets a unexpected visitor on her doorstep

aka maglor gets the cottage core life he doesn't know he needs

warnings: N/A

word count: 3.8k

author's note: this is just a entirely self indulgent fanfic I wrote about my oc olwyn and maglor.

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1.

The man arrives with the storm.

Olwyn sees him first as a dark blot against the horizon, teetering on the white stone cliffs of Langstrand. The wind howls, carrying the crash of waves against the rocks below, but the man walks with no caution. His cloak snaps wildly around his ankles, his bare feet gliding over the slippery, rain-slicked edge as if he does not fear the jagged maw of the sea waiting below.

She watches him for a long moment, rooted by the strangeness of the sight. The old stories creep unbidden into her mind—those whispered tales of spirits who sang with sweet voices to lead the unwary to their deaths. But those stories spoke of grace, of beauty that beguiled.

This man sways like a drunkard.

A gust of wind topples him forward into the grass, the rain drenching him further as he lies motionless against the over-saturated earth. It’s too far to see clearly, his face obscured by the veil of the storm, but the scene jolts Olwyn from her reverie.

Her chair scrapes against the wood floor as she rises, her heart lurching. She fumbles with the thick pelted cloak hanging by the door, the fastenings slipping beneath her fingers. Rain pounds against the windows as she pulls on her boots, rushed and graceless.

The door bursts open under her grip, the wind slamming against her, biting through her clothes and whipping her pale hair into her eyes, into her mouth. The storm roars around her, blinding and deafening as she steps out onto the wet stone path. She blinks hard against the rain clinging to her lashes and braces herself against the wind.

Olwyn starts toward the cliffs, her boots sinking into the slick, muddy earth as she hurries to where she last saw the man.

“You! Are you okay?”

Her voice cuts through the storm, but the wind swallows it whole, hurling her words over the cliffs and into the sea. The squelch of her boots in the mud is drowned out by the crashing waves below, each step splattering her calves with wet earth. The hem of her skirt clings heavily to her legs, soaked through.

She stumbles, her footing faltering on the slick ground, but her fingers catch the man’s elbow just in time. The contact shocks her—his skin is clammy and cold, like ice water soaked through flesh. Like he had been out in this weather far longer than she had spotted him. He shudders under her grip, a faint, involuntary tremor, and the wrongness of it sends a shiver racing up her spine.

When she turns him onto his back, he looks dead. Mud and seawater streak his face and clothes, dark hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes are half-lidded, rolled back into his skull, and for a terrible moment, Olwyn is certain she’s too late. But then she sees it—the faint rise and fall of his chest, fragile and uneven but undeniable.

Above them, the storm howls, a mournful wail that drowns out even her thoughts. Rain lashes against her face, relentless and cold, as she looks back toward the distant shape of her dwelling. The thatched roof barely stands out against the rolling cliffs, but the warm glow of lantern light cuts through the gloom, beckoning her back.

The storm will only worsen—she knows it will. The past few days have been unforgiving, and this stranger won’t last the night out here, not in this.

Olwyn grits her teeth, steeling herself against the weight of what she must do. Looping her hands under his armpits, she braces her legs and pulls.

“Come on,” she mutters, the rain slipping between her teeth as she speaks. The man groans faintly, a weak protest spilling from his lips, but his legs barely move beneath him. “Come on now, you can do it.”

With a grunt of effort, she hauls him upright, his body heavy and unyielding, nearly twice her size. His head lolls against her shoulder, his arms limp at his sides, but he stumbles forward when she tugs at him. The weight is staggering, but Olwyn is struck with sudden gratitude for her brother and the long hours spent wrestling calves and sheep in the past—this man weighs no more than calf her herd ever did, though the stakes feel infinitely higher.

Her humble cottage grows larger with each faltering step, the glow of the lanterns cutting through the storm’s darkness and blazing against her retinas. The light burns faint spots into the night sky behind it, but it promises warmth and safety, and she clings to that thought as her boots squelch through the mud.

At last, they cross the threshold. The door slams shut behind them, muffling the roar of the storm. The man stumbles once more, crumpling into her, his full weight bearing down on her shoulders and chest. She staggers but manages to hold them both upright, his skin like ice through her damp clothes, stealing the little warmth she has left.

The dim light of her home barely illuminates the path ahead, and she moves carefully, guiding them around the low table and through the curtain that separates the bedchamber. The weight eases as she lowers him onto her bed, the mattress groans beneath his weight. His breathing is shallow, each faint inhale barely perceptible, but it’s enough—it has to be.

Rain drips from her hair, trailing down her skin and soaking further into her dress. She shivers, her teeth clattering no matter how hard she clenches her jaw. Still, she pulls off her drenched cloak and tosses it aside, reaching for a dry one.

She wraps the warm fabric around the man’s freezing form, her fingers moving briskly despite their numbness. As she props him up to tuck the cloak under him, she begins rummaging for dry clothes. Her hands fumble, clumsy and slow, but she pulls out a tunic —old ones of her father's. The wool is rough and scratchy against her fingertips, but they're warm, and they'll have to do.

Olwyn works quickly, peeling away the soiled tunic that clings to his skin, the damp fabric resisting her at every pull. She shimmies the dry shirt over his head, yanking it into place with hurried efficiency as his arms flop limply at his sides. It’s far too large for her, and it will swamp him, but warmth matters more than fit.

Her breath catches for a moment as she catches sight of his frame—thinner than she had expected, his ribs stark against his chilled, pale skin. She barely has time to register the sight before he shifts, twisting suddenly away from her hands with a low groan. The sound startles her, her heart leaping, but she lets him go. He burrows into the furs like a wounded animal seeking shelter, and she moves to pull them up higher, tucking them carefully around his neck.

She pauses as her eyes fall on a stray lock of hair. It’s raven black, untamed and tangled, and the damp strands cling to his face. She brushes them aside without thinking, her fingers revealing the pointed tip of his ear beneath.

An Elf.

The thought lands heavy in her mind as she stares, taking him in for the first time with real clarity. There are no Elves in Langstrand—not anymore. Not for a long time. And yet, here one is, lying unconscious in her bed, draped in her father’s old tunic.

Her gaze lingers on the steady rise and fall of the furs over his chest, his breaths soft but rhythmic. Her hand drifts absently to her own ear, tracing the subtle curve of its dull point—a mark of her half-blood lineage, a quiet truth she has carried her whole life.

But he is not like her. He is pure-blooded, unblemished. Older. Other.

Something else entirely.

The dull ache in her jaw, from the relentless chattering of her teeth, pulls Olwyn sharply back to the present. She reaches for a rag and rubs at her face, the rough fabric dragging against her clammy skin. Her hands tremble as she works, clumsy and slow, and the chill bites harder when she begins peeling off her soaked clothes. The damp fabric clings to her skin, reluctant, but she shoves the garments aside and reaches for fresh underclothes.

She gathers her sodden clothes, the fabric heavy and cold in her arms, and drapes them over the back of a chair. The wet material drips onto the floor, dark spots spreading across the wood where the water falls, but she pays it no mind.

Reaching for her brother’s wool blanket, Olwyn wraps it tightly around her shoulders. The texture is coarse but warm, and the weight of it steadies her as she totters toward the kitchen area. The scent of soup, thick with salt and thyme and earth, hangs heavy in the air. It still simmers faintly over the coals where she’d left it hours ago, forgotten in the chaos of the storm. It had been meant to last her for days, but with a second mouth to feed, that feels unimportant now.

She ladles out the broth, the steam rising to warm her face, chasing away the lingering chill. Blowing gently at the surface, she takes a cautious sip. The heat stings her lips, her tongue, but her stomach growls in protest when she sets the cup down. The last of her bread had been eaten two days ago—there’s no sense in waiting now.

Soup in hand, Olwyn makes her way back to the bedchamber. The blanket clings to her as she pulls a chair up beside the bed and lowers herself into it.

The Elf stirs.

The movement is subtle, but it freezes her all the same. His brow furrows faintly, the lines of his features shifting ever so slightly, and she watches with bated breath. His chest rises and falls in shallow rhythm, his lashes fluttering as his eyes roll beneath their lids. The pale cast of his skin has softened, losing some of its waxy sheen, and the harsh lines carved into his face seem to have eased.

Her gaze lingers, tracing the high bridge of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw. The pointed tips of his ears peek through his dark hair, long and unmistakable, even in the dim light.

Then, his eyes open.

They are pale and distant, unfocused, as though he sees her but not entirely.

“I’ve brought you soup,” she says, her voice loud in the heavy silence of the room. She thrusts the cup toward him, as if the gesture alone might help him understand, as if he even speaks her language. “It will help warm you,” she tries again, softer this time, her tone gentle and steady. “Can you eat?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are fixed on the cup in her hand, and his nostrils flare, a subtle movement that gives her pause. Olwyn dips the spoon into the broth, steam rising faintly as she lifts it. She blows gently on the liquid, the warmth wafting between them, and holds it up.

“You have to eat,” she says, the words low but firm, a quiet insistence.

He blinks, his brow furrowing slightly, and for a moment, it seems as though he might speak. The corners of his lips twitch, a faint flicker of effort that never materializes into sound. His gaze drops to the spoon in her hand, and she sees it—a glimmer of understanding.

Encouraged, she presses the spoon forward, close enough to brush against his dry, chapped lips. “Here. Eat.”

There’s a hesitation, his body still save for the flicker of dark eyelashes. Then, his mouth opens, and his tongue darts out, tentative.

He swallows, the motion slow and deliberate. Olwyn nods slightly and dips the spoon back into the bowl, scooping up another measure.

His lips close around it this time, his tongue working as he swallows again. He blinks once, then slowly again, the deliberate rhythm of it matching his movements.

The process is slow, each spoonful a careful exchange, but Olwyn is patient. He eats halfway through the bowl before his lips part and the spoon falls away. He leans back, the furs pulling up around his chin as he shifts deeper into the bed. His eyelids drift shut, and his body slackens, the harsh lines of his face softening once more.

For a long moment, she watches him. The storm rages outside, battering the walls of the cottage, but the rise and fall of the blankets is steady, calm. In sleep, he looks smaller, almost fragile. Her eyes linger on the pale line of his throat, exposed and vulnerable, before she looks away.

Olwyn finishes the rest of the soup herself, the warmth soothing the tightness in her chest. Leaning back in the chair beside his bed, she lets her head rest against the worn wood. What was she going to tell her brother?

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[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

Masterlist

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[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a Telerin child, and accidentally getting taken to Middle Earth

You were a child of a telerin sailor. You and your father were preparing to return to your home island until the darkening happened and the kin slaying followed. Your father hid you, but then you had to watch as he was killed right in front of you. You then get accidentally brought along to Beleriand by the Noldor after they stole your father's boat.

Warnings: Heavy angst, kin slaying, blood, seasickness, starvation, burning of the ships, Tyelpe being the only one nice to you, you technically become an orphan and get adopted by the murder family.

----------------------------------------------------

-  You remember that night like it was yesterday. 

- You and your father were walking across the harbor of Alqualonde, hand in hand, returning from a celebration. You were holding your plushie and a bag of candy after convincing your father to buy you one. He had always been more lenient in getting you candy than your mother who was more strict and insistent in eating healthy food. He had always been a huge softie for you, and you loved him for it. 

- When you were talking about what you wanted for dinner, everything suddenly became dark. The streets were lit by the street lamps, but now the only thing that lit the sky were Varda's stars. You didn't comprehend what was happening, except that it caused a lot of panic and that you heard that something had happened to the two trees. 

-Your father took you to his boat when you started to get scared by the darkness. The cabin was filled with lights, and you were no longer scared when your father comforted you. He tried to explain what was happening and assured you that you would go home once the valars did something about the darkness. 

- You then remember falling asleep. You were tired after playing a lot in the celebration and your father encouraged you to rest, deciding to help those in need at the harbor with his crew in the meantime. 

- You did not know how long you slept, most likely a few hours, but you remember waking up to strange sounds.  Something was happening outside the cabin since you heard loud yelling, and what sounded like metals being hit together. You became scared when you heard someone scream and fall into the water. 

- Your father then slammed through the door. His eyes were filled with fear and you noticed a deep red stain on his arm. 

- You asked what was happening when he suddenly picked you up and told you to hide beneath the floorboard. You did what he asked and he then said that no matter what you had to stay hidden. 

- You heard someone banging on the door of the cabin. 

- Your father closed the floorboard and you heard someone burst through the door. You heard talking and pushed the floorboard just a little to see what was happening. You saw your father and another elf, who was holding a long sharp-looking weapon. Your father pleaded but the other elf then swung the sharp weapon at your father. You slapped your hand against your mouth when you saw your father fall to the floor, motionless and lying on his own blood. 

- You closed the floorboard, and for a moment you thought the elf heard you. You heard him walk above the floor, and you kept quiet despite the tears that fell freely from your eyes. You heard him stay near the floorboard before walking away.

- You held on to your plushie while crying. You kept quiet when you heard more elves walk in, and a voice, telling you to take your father's corpse away. You then listened to your father being dragged across the floor, making you cry harder. 

- You wished this was a bad dream and hoped your mother or anyone from your father’s crew came to get you, but no one came. 

- You did not know how long you were there, but you heard the voices from outside quiet down and many footsteps step on board your father's boat. 

- They said something about sailing and after minutes you felt the boat move. You felt scared since the elves were stealing your father's boat. You did not know what to do and remained quiet for half an hour. 

- But soon you heard the ocean sing in fury and felt your father's boat sail through a furious storm. Your father's boat managed to endure, but you grew sick from getting tossed from side to side. It might have been because you ate too much candy, cried for many minutes, and witnessed your father's death, but you then vomited from the continuous sailing. Whatever these elves were doing, they did not know how to sail a boat.

- Your father never feared storms when Ulmo and one of his maiars became angry, he actually made you fear it less, but with these elves, you felt like you were going to die. 

- After surviving through the storm, you felt sick and thirsty. The smell of your vomit did not help you. 

- Your body felt cramped after so much hiding, so you dared to take a look above the floorboard. You remember your father storing some clean water bottles in the cabin, so you had an idea that if you could sneak in and grab one of the bottles, you could quench your thirst.

- You kept quiet when you saw three elves in the cabin, talking about something. One of them seemed like a kid by their voice. They said something about a curse and the boy wanting to be back with his mother. The elf, his father, said that they could not turn back now and told the boy it was the end of the discussion. You quivered when you realized the elf was the one who killed your father. 

- You saw the two elves leave the cabin, leaving the kid on your bed. You took the chance to quietly climb out and crawl toward the cabinet where the water should be. 

- However, you did not think the elf kid would notice you so quickly and found you hiding behind some boxes. 

- In panic, you tried to crawl back to your hiding place, but he was quick to calm you down and assure you that he was not going to hurt you. 

- He was soft-spoken, so you did not feel immediately threatened. He looked similar to the elf who killed your father, but in his eyes, he held gentleness and barely looked a few years older than you. He handed you your bag of candy, assuring you he did not take any, and since he had a feeling it belonged to you. 

- His presence felt somewhat comforting and when he asked if you were sick since you were pale and still had some spots of vomit on your clothes. You told him you had been hiding beneath the floorboard and puked when they sailed through the storm.

- You half expected him to laugh at you since puking through a storm was seen as pretty embarrassing, but he instead apologized since his kin were not very good at sailing and gave you a blanket to keep you warm and water when you told him you were dying of thirst. 

- After chugging down the water, you asked if they kidnapped him too. 

- He looked ashamed and then told you he was not being kidnapped. His father made him come with the rest of their family.

- You then tried to ask why his kin killed your father and stole his boat, and where were they sailing. 

- He looked even more ashamed and then told you what had happened to his great grandfather and that the dark vala Melkor stole something important from his family. However, he did not know why his grandfather and father decided to harm your kin. 

- You felt scared and asked if they were going to kill you too if they found you. 

- The elf boy seemed startled and quickly assured he would not let any harm come to you. He might not be able to go back home, but he will not let his father and family hurt you. 

- You doubted his words a little but felt comforted. You two then became friends and you learned his name to be Tyelperinquar. It was a bit hard for you to pronounce so he allowed you to call him Tyelpe for short. 

- Tyelpe gave you company and comfort, staying on guard when someone was coming to the cabin and telling you to hide when you had to. You honestly felt more safe with him, and even grew to like him enough to share your candy with him. 

- But then the sailing came to an end. You had reached the land called Beleriand. You stayed hidden when Tyelpe's father and uncle came to fetch him and told him they were going to camp outside on the beach. 

- Tyelpe agreed to go with them and left the cabin, leaving you hiding beneath the floorboard. You didn't dare to peak outside, so you tried to wait for Tyelpe to come back. 

- But after such a long night of hiding and sailing, you fell tired, so you grabbed the blanket and slept under your bed to stay hidden. 

- You did not know how much time had passed but then you woke up to someone gently shaking you awake. You were startled till you realized it was Tyelpe. 

- He told you most of the things had been taken to the beach and that he sneaked out when he had the chance. He said you should come with him to another hiding spot because you had not eaten the whole night. 

- You wanted to reject the thought but your stomach gave an audible answer, crumbling painfully. You could not then deny that real food would taste good. You were kinda getting sick of eating candy. 

- Tyelpe gave you his cloak, telling you it would hide your face and make others think you were just one of the Noldor kids brought along. You felt fearful but agreed to the idea. He gave you his cloak, which was slightly too big but did the job of hiding your features, and then led you outside.

- You were shaking when you saw the Noldor unloading boxes and raising tents on the beach. The idea of them hurting you haunted you as you were not one of them, just an accidental stowaway. 

- Tyelpe helped you out of your father's boat and then led you to his tent. He was able to convince his father he was big enough to sleep on his own, thus he was able to bring you somewhere alone and have warm food without suspicion.  

- You were usually picky when it came to plain bread, but this time it tasted better than candy. You would not have complained if you got your mom's terrible fish soup.

- After having a proper meal, Tyelpe allowed you to sleep on the same bed as him because then he would be able to hide you beneath the blankets if anyone came to see him. You felt tired and thanked him for being a good Noldor instead of a bad one. 

- Tyelpe tried to comfort you when you remembered the moment when your father was killed and even apologized for his father doing something so cruel.

- You said you did not hate him because it was his father who had hurt your dad, not him. 

- Tyelpe then assured you that he would look out for you and not let anything or anyone hurt you, not even his father. 

- You two then shared stories to pass the time, giggling at funny things that happened with your families. You even teased him a little as he was nicer than his father. You then fell asleep on the way and did not remember much of what happened after. 

- Except when you heard yelling and saw something burning outside the tent.

- You woke up Tyelpe and urged him to go outside with you to see what was happening. However, when you two ran outside, to your horror, the Noldor were burning up all your kin's boats, including your father's boat

- Tears ran down your cheek, and when someone noticed you standing with Tyelpe without your cloak on, you ran away into the woods. Anything to get away from the monsters that were the Noldor. 

- Tyelpe followed after you, calling out to you and trying to make you stop before you ended up hurting yourself. 

- You didn't get too far when you realized it was awfully dark, reminding you of the darkness that darkened the harbor of Alqualonde. 

- When Tyelpe caught up with you, you cried in anguish. With your father's boat gone, you will never get back home and return to your mother. The Noldor's cruelty knew no end. 

- Tyelpe tried to calm you down, but you were too deep in your anger and sorrow. He had no idea why his family would do such a thing since half of the hosts were still in Valinor. They were supposed to send someone to sail them over so they could face Morgoth together. 

- You asked what was the difference between them and the dark Valar, they were just as awful as him. 

- Tyelpe tried to comfort you, but the moment was short-lived when you two were found by his father and kin. 

- You trashed against one of the elves, who harshly grabbed you and brought you back to the beach with Tyelpe. 

- You called all types of names, even those your parents would have been appalled to hear coming from your mouth.

- You were brought in front of Tyelpe's family and you were ten times more terrified to look Feanor himself in the eye. But your mouth might have run itself in anger and you continued calling them monsters. 

- They demanded to know why you had come along with them, and you angrily yelled how you were hiding in your father's boat before they killed him in cold blood. You didn't dare to try to flee when they came aboard and then stole your father's boat. You were even more upset by how they had burned it along with other boats they stole from your people. 

- Tyelpe's father then snapped at you when you continued running your mouth, and when he tried to touch you or grab you, you bit his hand, making him yell and pull away. 

- When he looked like he was about to hit you, Tyelpe suddenly ran between you and prevented it from happening, pleading him not to hurt you. 

- His father seemed angry when he realized Tyelpe knew about you, and despite fearing his father's anger, Tyelpe tried to stand his ground, explaining he found you when they had already sailed away from Alqualonde and that you were scared. 

- The situation was intense and you couldn't help but quiver while hiding behind Tyelpe. 

- Then two of Tyelpe's uncles, the tall red-haired one and one dark-haired one turned toward Feanor and told him you possessed no threat to them as you were only a child that got accidentally brought along. And since they were in new lands, there was no reason to throw you out. 

- You did not hear much of what they said. You were certain they were going to kill you like your kin, but apparently, they held some restraint toward children and Feanor decided that the issue was going to be settled later. It was more important for them to chase Morgoth as soon as possible. And the situation was left there. 

- You refused to leave Tyelpe's side as you trusted no one, and the constant hurricane of crying and angrily yelling left you tired and silent. It did not help when you forgot where you placed your plushie, holding it would have eased some of the tension. 

- Luckily, Tyelpe's family allowed you to stay with him and mostly left you alone, and since Tyelpe was still too young to join any battles, he mostly tried to look after you. 

- You had met a few nice Noldor elves before but knew nothing else of them except that they were excellent craftsmen and somewhat prideful. You were not used to that, most telerin were friendly and easy to talk to whenever you were at the harbor with your father. Now these hardened murderers, just gave you looks, somewhat filled with pity and you hated it. 

- You strictly remained with Tyelpe or in his tent, hiding in the cloak you were provided. 

- One of Tyelpe's uncles, Makalaure, if you remember correctly, came one time to see you. You were not really eager to see him since he had been one of those who willingly burned the boats, and simply asked what he wanted. He spoke softly to you that he understood that you were most likely scared and this was not an ideal situation, and then he returned your toy after hearing from Tyelpe that you had lost it. 

- You took your plushie back and uttered a silent thanks before refusing to talk any further. 

- He tried to sound comforting and that no harm will come to you, and that you will have everything you need, but you said nothing to them. You simply asked why he would care when it was so easy for him to hurt people and burn your dad's boat.

- He was quiet but did not seem angry. He then left you alone for now. 

- The rest was pretty much a passing thought. You stayed with Tyelpe most of the time and watched how things went. Feanor ended up ambushed by Balrogs and died, his son, Nelyafinwe then became the high king but then he was captured and taken to Angband. Makalaure then became the regent for the time being. It was kinda a hectic, especially when the rest of the hosts led by Feanor's half-brother came to Middle Earth, having traveled through Helcaraxe. 

-The tensions were high for some time, and then one of their cousins went to Angband and rescued Nelyafinwe. 

- His return eased the tension and the high king title was given to Fingolfin. 

- Your issue was then decided. Apparently, Makalaure was willing to take you in and turn you into his ward. You were not delighted by the arrangement, but knowing his other family members, he was a somewhat less bad option.

- Your life in Middle Earth did not start well, especially when you still held a strong resentment for them. King Thingol then found out what they had done and banned the Quenyan language, which forced them all to get new names in the Sindar tongue, including you.

- You were not happy about it, and gave Makalaure, or Maglor, a hard time when he tried to help you get a new Sindarin name. 

- So here you were now, away from the rest of your family, having to watch your only friend go live elsewhere, and now having to give up using your name. 

- You can only hope things will turn out better from there.

[lamemaster]

The Magician

Request: I feel like it's required for phantom of the opera to be maglor lol! A mask and cloak to hide ears, the light of the Trees,(which could also be why s/o thought of him as an angel!) and his scarred palm. Singing his hauntingly beautiful tragedies into the night, that is where our 'Christine' learned to sing. How very fitting. *Low key inspired by silmapens art of him doing theater*

Pairing(s): Maglor x Reader / (Spoiler) x Reader

Genre: Phantom of the Opera au (hehe)

AN: Fall event yayyyyy~ (Also the way I had half of this thing written before the request is not real. We share the same brain cell anon)

The Shadow, the Wraith—there are many names for the phantom that haunts the halls of Kalis Hala. A sprite whose steps echo at the untimely hours of the night.

Some call him a spirit, others claim he is a man from the East with long, flowing hair, while whispers tell of a doomed elf.

But the theater and its ghost remain inseparable. Entwined in rumors is the Shadow, whose words and music transformed a ramshackle puppet shop into the most esteemed theater in the kingdom.

A legend that holds within it the dreams of hundreds and the tears of thousands. Its backstage hums with the chatter of its artists, its seats brimming with patrons that multiply with each passing day.

Behind the rich, velvety curtains, you stand, clutching a letter. From your confidante, the one whose angelic voice, heard by many, is yet to be linked to a face. The one whose name is engraved on the door of Box Five.

His voice found you in your darkest hour. In the attic of discarded props, you first encountered his mournful notes. And that was how you met him. Ghost to many, the Magician to you.

But tonight, as you prepare to face the crowd for your debut as the lead singer, your heart pounds with uncertainty. In your grasp lies the Magician’s letter—his demands and requirements for tonight’s show.

Your name, written boldly as the lead—a demand that unsettled many. For an unknown nobody from the company to take center stage. Amid the glares and whispers, you murmur his name.

With your eyes closed, you conjure the fleeting image of his flowing black robes of mourning, his nimble fingers wrapped in silken veils, an unchanging presence during your secret meetings. His voice, unlike that of any mortal. His songs that could make you weep, laugh, or slumber at his will.

In the middle of the second act, your eyes find him, and your heart skips a beat.

With renewed fervor, you sing for him, a smile threatening to break across your lips. The rest of the show passes in a blur. As soon as the final note fades, you rush to your changing room, as fast as your feet will carry you.

In the crowded hallway, full of sweaty, euphoric actors, you somehow end up in his arms. You drink in the sight of him as his arms wrap around your waist.

The knight of your dreams.

Tonight, he has decided, tonight will be the night he reveals himself to you—his angel, away from Valinor. The bearer of his songs.

Maglor had watched you perform from the rafters, from the safety of rooms unknown even to the oldest patrons.

Tonight, when the world craves to hold you, he will be the one to claim your time and affection.

And perhaps, in time, you will come to love him—his mask, and beyond. The scars of the Silmaril may yet be healed by the kiss of your lips. You are his salvation.

He waits for you in your changing room, hidden behind the mirror that leads to his secret tunnels. Tonight, you will see him in your reflection.

Barely resisting the urge to claw at his mask, Maglor waits. Any moment now.

From minutes to hours, to the pale sprinkling of dawn, he waits. But you do not come.

His mind races with scenarios—wild, maddening thoughts. Has someone dared lay claim to his prodigy? Did he not make his intentions clear to the patrons?

It isn’t until later that he sees the reason for your absence. The gleaming knight of Rivendell. Once Lord of the House of the Golden Flower—Glorfindel. Seated in the box closest to you, his gaze fixed on you, your careless, fleeting glances in his direction tinkering with your faltering notes.

Your changing room, once overflowing with roses from Maglor, is now invaded by the cheer of the Golden Flower.

With clenched fists, crescent moons imprinted on his palms, Maglor watches as you effortlessly fall into the arms of the golden lord, who tucks back your wayward hair with aching familiarity.

"You must meet him," you prattle cheerfully to the blurred figure of your phantom. "Glorfindel is a friend. A savior. I wouldn't be here—"

Your words die in your throat as an unseen force seizes your lips, silencing you. Panic floods your chest as you look to the Magician. The usual warmth in his presence has been replaced by a chilling cold.

"You skipped four notes tonight," he declares, his voice like ice. "Is this the time for such cheer?" His words echo harshly in the attic.

You stare at him, helpless. It had never crossed your mind that your Magician—the source of your music and song—could wield such cruelty. He had always been your muse, never your fear, despite the rumors that clung to his name.

"Do not succumb to distractions. Stay away from the lordling." His sneer cuts deep, giving you no chance to respond. "Do you understand, my Lark?" he asks, finally releasing the grip he held over your words.

Gasping for air, your gaze meets his, laced with the sting of betrayal. The bond you had so carefully built with the shadow of Kalis Hala now feels fragile, fractured. Beyond the veil, you see him pacing, agitated.

"He is a friend, like you are," you plead, your voice soft. "Glorfindel will cause no harm. He is dear to me." Your words carry the weight of memories—of the time when the elven lord had saved you from the plague that ravaged the village of your birth. "I will not falter again. There will be no err in my music. Not because of him."

"I am the owner of this theater. I am the source of your fame, the music in your words. It would do you well to remember that, my Lark. Do not dismiss my words so willfully." His voice hisses like a venomous snake, fury so intense it feels as though centuries couldn’t contain it.

"Now throw away those jarring yellow flowers and rest for the night," he commands. The rage evaporates, replaced by the familiar tenderness you once knew, leaving you bewildered by the ghost of the opera.

You do not reply. Nor do you offer him reassurance. You will not abandon your friend over an unwarranted tantrum.

That night, you ignore his words for the first time. Leaving the pearls untouched on your dresser, you pull on your shawl and slip into the chilly night, finding yourself on the director’s mare, racing toward the manor on the outskirts of town.

In his arms, you are delightfully human. He can feel the steady rhythm of your heart, and his thumbs trace the warmth of your flushed cheeks. Unbothered by your sweat-slicked brow, Glorfindel presses his forehead gently against yours. "You were marvelous," he whispers, his voice full of elvish delight.

You truly were. Your songs, your voice, the graceful movement of your limbs in perfect sync with the dancers—it was something he would never forget.

Perhaps Lúthien was the fairest elleth to ever walk on Arda, and her dance enchanting enough to lure Beren. But to Glorfindel, you surpassed all legends. He loved you for reasons he couldn’t fully explain.

Why had his reborn heart bound itself to a mere mortal? A woman he had plucked from the very brink of death, whose faint pulse he had nursed back to life.

He loved you because, when everything else in Arda seemed to wither under the corruption of darkness, you lived. You clung to life—and to him.

His thoughts are interrupted by sudden screams. Chaos ripples through the theater, and the sickly sweet smell of death fills the air.

On the stage lies the broken body of a guardsman, crumpled and lifeless. A note is stuffed into his frozen mouth, his face twisted in eternal terror.

Words, elegantly written:

The Elven Lord must return.

The message leaves you pale and trembling in Glorfindel's arms. Your eyes dart around the empty stage, scanning the deserted seats, dread curling at the edges of your mind.

And then as if the familiar sense of dreadful choking returned with the burning gaze of your Magician. His presence- unwavering in the shadows, prowling in on your world.

[definitelynotaria]

Hey, anyone who can write Fëanorians x fem reader platonic? Like, they perceive her as a little sister or an only female friend?... Someone? 🥲 I'll draw an illustration to the result! I can't write and my delulu about it is growing stronger.