#Said by Elrond probably

[dragon-ashes1485]

TROP s2 ep7. A rant.

Firstly, this episode has been such a joy to watch, secondly, my heart rate is concerning.

Galadriel:

I loved the scene where she was in the cage, completely ready to die, because she wants to make things right. The scene with Celebrimbor was fantastic, at any moment I expected it to actually be Sauron, but the gentle way she talks to him and held his face like a child broke my heart. Phenomenal acting on both sides and the music was also amazing. Her kindness towards Arondir broke me. Her advising him against seeking out Adar was pure irony given her hunt against Sauron.

Galadriel sneaking around in that orc cloak was so stressful, even though we know she lives.

She seems kinder than in previous episodes, perhaps a result of no longer being around the ring? Or maybe she's just realising everything is going wrong. Either way, can't wait to see where her character goes next.

Elrond:

This guy. I loved how at first he looked ready for battle, but that he was also terribly afraid. But something seemed to switch in his character when his horse was killed and his pure anger there really shocked me. Also absolute savage for sending that orc flying.

I would like to take a moment to admire that he pauses to briefly mourn his horse.

The stunts that he performed are insane in this episode, and I love how Arondir keeps him safe throughout the later part of the battle.

"Durin will come" was such an important part to me, Elrond really looks like a young boy, as if he were sat on the beach during the third kinslaying again. I think the way that was portrayed was breathtaking.

And how he sits, looking up at Adar, completely ready to give in, broke me, he is utterly defeated. He has been abandoned once more (I know there were reasons but that's probably how Elrond feels). He then tries to stab Adar, but it is clear from where he aims for that he doesn't want to kill Adar, he wants to hurt him. His sigh when Adar got the ring kind of made me laugh, he's so done with all this crap.

I can't wait to see the aftermath of this.

Minor characters:

Camnir: so glad he was not in this episode or I would have cried.

Vorohil: please let this guy live. I will be sad.

Rian: I am sad. But absolute props to her for that savage arrow in her final moments.

Narvi: he just watched his kin be killed by his own king...let Narvi be ok.

Celebrimbor:

Ow. I hurt. Charles Edwards is an absolute gem, no he may not "look right" for Celebrimbor, but his potrayal of Celebrimbors descent was amazing.

Also, props to the set team for the scene where the forge transforms into its true state.

He tries so hard to fight against Sauron, he literally cuts his own thumb off. His own. Thumb. And when he's caught by the guards, he tries so hard to explain. I was so scared they'd just hand him back to Sauron until Galadriel showed her face.

I feel like I need to mention Mirdania. She was another product of Sauron's deception. Her death was horrifying and...I just can't even. Her naivety to believe "Annatar" about Celebrimbor, a man she greatly admired, was so sad, and then for her to spend her last moments believing that Celebrimbor had killed her? Ouch.

Celebrimbor tried so hard to escape, only to do what a true lord of Eregion would do, return to the only place he could protect it from, and the place he had just escaped. His bravery really shines through, and in the end it is he who comforts Galadriel.

ps: shot on the left is fantastic.

Sauron:

Still a bitch. But now with Darth Vader powers for some reason. Probably about to destroy Alderaan. I have no more to say.

Adar:

Yea I'm expecting a full orc rebellion next episode. He doesn't care as much as he did about his children which is why they were loyal to him in the first place. Glûg stayed behind when the others went to fight so I think that says a lot. It'll be interesting to see where that goes. I also hate him now because Arondir.

Durin:

Durin's speech was so middle-earthy I loved it. And then it goes to shit. I love that he got Narvi on side. The scene where he sees Elrond again means so much to me, there has not been enough of these two in this series and I really hope ep8 rectifies that, particularly after what happened (or rather, didn't happen) on the battlefield.

I love that Durin admires Elrond's new hair, as he should, it is fabulous. ALSO WHERE IS DISA. I swear if Disa dies, then I do too.

Look at this dwarf in his element. Also eff his dad, his dad is a prick.

He's really starting to come into his own, fighting against the evil. And you can see later how much his father's actions hurt him because not only does it mean he can't aid Eregion, but his father has killed dwarves. His own kind.

Amazon, please be kind to Durin next episode.

Gil-Galad:

Not much to say except from look at this boi in all his regalia. Love it when you see a monarch actually in the fighting, makes you like them. Especially as Gil-Galad has not been the most likeable chap this series.

Arondir:

Anyone needs me, I will be crying. That's all I have to say.

Overall thoughts on episode:

Battle sequence was 10/10. The effort put into this show amazes me. Fantastic acting from everyone, namely Charles Edwards, Charlie Vickers, Robert Aramayo and Morfydd Clark (ok fine, everyone). Well done to all the stunt horses as well, such good horses. Bear McCreary's soudntrack shone this episode, including so many characters themes. Also the last ballad of Damrod in the credits!

I am both anticipating and dreading next episode. What will happen with Celebrimbor? And what of Khazad-Dum? How will Adar use the ring? And will we need a box of tissues?

[sapphoismymuse]

shoutout to the og wife guy j.r.r. tolkien for making all of his male characters wife guys:

tom bombadil

aragorn

faramir

thranduil (okay the gem thing was a movie thing but still!!)

elrond

celeborn (i had to double check his name that’s how wife guy he is)

legolas gets honorary wife guy privileges (he snuck his “very good friend” into elf heaven i mean c’mon)

[armenelols]

I don't recall the books ever specifying what weapons Elrond primarily fought with and while he is usually given a sword by both the movies and fandom, I think it would be incredibly hilarious if he came out with fucking Dramborleg. They are getting ready for battle and he brings out this huge ass axe his gramps once killed balrogs with. Sir, you were discussing poetry 10 minutes ago, where did that thing come from

[balrogballs]

I love method acting 😌🙏🏽

the funniest thing about hugo weaving being the biggest elrond anti to walk the earth is that elrond is also the biggest elrond anti to walk this earth

[worthyprnce]

I wish I could personally thank everyone responsible for giving us this wonderful gift that was robert aramayo as elrond in armor in the rings of power season two

— close-ups under the cut ✨

[allbycharles]

It was not funny in the first age. Its not funny now.

[minecraftian1213]

Bro is half-elven and he was so far ahead of them it was hilarious

the 0.3 second shot of elrond absolutely booking it through the woods while his entire company is lagging half a mile behind him is so funny to me. no magic ring or anything, he's just powered by the sheer determination to say I FUCKING TOLD YOU SOOOOOOOOOO

[thesummerestsolstice]

I like the idea that the Valar can grant boons to men or elves they favor. Sometimes visible– glowing markings, feathers, claws– and sometimes not. Attitudes of these blessings ranged from fear to reverence to jealousy, often reflecting opinions of the Valar more generally.

Galadriel's special treelight hair came from Finarfin. Finarfin got it as a result of Manwe's favor. Given how rare it was for Manwe to bestow such gifts, this caused quite a stir. Later, Morgoth would spread rumors that Manwe was trying to set Finarfin up as the new Noldor crown prince, bypassing Finwe's older children.

Namo gave Fingolfin a blessing, and no one was particularly sure why, Fingolfin included. The truth was that Namo had already foreseen Fingolfin's death, and wanted to give him the strength to let him wound Morgoth before falling to him. Namo has always felt a sense of responsibility for those who choose to come to his halls, even if he's powerless to change their fates.

Celegorm was blessed by Orome, given the kind of teeth and claws that a few of his best disciples had been granted over the years. Orome couldn't take those gifts back, so Celegorm kept them for all his life. You wouldn't know that looking at paintings of him, though, because none of them show him with the marks of Orome's hunt. Whether this was a choice made by him or by later revisionists trying to minimize his connection with the Valar is unknown.

Varda gave blessings to both Earendil and Gil-Galad in the final years of the First Age. Both of them are said to have shone like stars afterwards, and there were some darker rumors that like the hallowed Silmarils, they would burn any unholy flesh that touched them. Some speculated that the blessings were Varda's way of apologizing for leaving the elves to face Morgoth alone for so long.

Ulmo is probably the Vala who's given out the most blessings– Cirdan, Turgon, Finrod, and Tuor all recieved boons from him, among others. But everyone who's gotten blessings from Ulmo is weirdly secretive about it. There's lots of gossip floating around– Ulmo is the reason Cirdan has a beard, Ulmo is the reason Turgon is taller than Maedhros, Ulmo is the reason that everyone likes Finrod so much, actually everyone blessed by Ulmo gets gills and he has secret underwater meetings with them– you get the idea. Well, probably no reason to consider that last one. I can't imagine any of the Valar using their power for something that foolish.

There is fierce scholarly debate on whether Thingol received a blessing from Melian, and whether her descendants could, theoretically, do the same. Elrond would like everyone to please stop asking him about it. Elrond would also like everyone to please stop talking about Gil-Galad's hair turning silver after the two of them took a very normal hunting trip together.

(Multiple Valar have tried to take credit for just how amazingly luscious and wonderful Finwe's hair is. But no, that wasn't a blessing. He's just like that.)

[tolkien-povs]

Things the Finwëans have definitely said about other Finwëans, PT 1:

Angrod: Caranthir? More like "Crack-anthir".

Fingolfin: Curufinwë isn't even salty at this point. He's just upgraded to "ocean cocaine" now, which probably isn't something I should be joking about because he'd invent it.

Finarfin, seeing Finrod as a newborn fresh from the womb: My Eru, he clearly doesn't have my genes!

Finrod: You see, Tyelkormo is a nice person at heart. You just have to... force yourself to see the good in him. Like, just peel the layers of his heart until you're left with nothing.

Celegorm: Arkáno? Who's he, some spawn of Uncle Nolofinwë?

Aredhel: Oh, Artanis? Well, yeah, when you see her, she's all about fire and swords and stuff, but really, she's about fire and sparkly dresses.

Turgon: Circles? I love circles, especially circle theorems! ...Oh, we're talking about family trees?

Fëanáro: Irissë is the daughter I never had. And no, I did not kidnap her when she was a child, despite everything her father may say.

Caranthir: Last night, I dreamt that Artarestro had me arrested for tax-evasion, which is funny because I never pay taxes.

Galadriel: When I found out that Kanafinwe actually survived, I was surprised. Mainly because I expected him to die.

Elrond: When I came to Valinor, I was shocked when I saw my family. But that's because I expected them to be in the Void.

Maedhros: One thing I hate about being the eldest is that everyone assumes I order the babies around. I do not. The babies order me around.

[raointean]

GUYS!!! Camnir calls Elrond "My Liege"! I googled the term just to verify, and it is IN NO WAY a possible synonym for "Commander." It means either "my lord" or "my king." That, combined with the fact that Elrond and Camdir only speak Sindarin (or English) together, never Quenya, has some Notable Implications!

It probably means that Camnir is loyal to Elrond (politically, at least, though I sense a genuine friendship there too) above everyone else! I would be willing to bet (total speculation from here on out) that he's a Sinda who was loyal to Elwing and then, after she peaced out, decided that the kingship should go to Elrond next.

Obviously, it didn't for whatever reason (I can think of several possible ones,) but instead went to Oropher. If Camnir thinks of Elrond as his rightful king, he obviously thinks of Oropher as a userper. He probably came to Lindon because Elrond was there and is a subject of Gil-Galad in name only because Elrond said so.

Sorry for the ramble, I'm just fascinated by Elrond’s family tree and the political implications that come with it. Also, we hear every once in a while about diehard Elrond-following Fëanorians but I don't think I've ever heard the Sindarin side of things! Hopefully, they'll expand on this, maybe even find a way to bring Oropher himself into the show!

[danger-xylophones]

I am going feral over the costumes in this show

There's a lot of good things going on and for every criticism I have, I can find something good happening elsewhere

Rings of Power’s elven clothing & armour - design appreciation

Requested by @klngfili thank you I hope you like these!! ♥

My favorites are easily Elrond’s blue and gold outfit, Arondir’s chestplate and Galadriel’s armour.

rop design team very good job thank you

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

My headcanon is that Elrond's kindness started as a defense mechanism.

He spent most of his childhood and early adulthood as a captive. I know some fans make a lot of that line about how Maglor cherished them, but it's wrong to think that just because someone loves another means they won't hurt them. Many abusive parents truly believe that there's nothing wrong with what they are doing; in their minds, it's how they were raised, so it's not abuse. And Maglor was not Elrond's parent. He played a key role in murdering Elrond's grandparents and uncles. He slaughtered people Elrond probably knew since he was born. He chased Elrond's mother to the edge of a cliff until she felt her only choice was to throw herself into the sea. Whatever kindness he showed Elrond and Elros after that couldn't erase their memories of what he did.

With Elrond, he realized early on that if he spoke back or had an outburst of anger, he'd get a cuff on the head or a whipping. But if he was gentle and did whatever Maglor said, he was treated more kindly.

Even when he leaves for Lindon that behavior is ingrained in him, so he's more likely to respond kindly to people being rude or even cruel to him. But the longer he is free, the more Elrond begins to feel able to stand up for himself, even if his default is kindness.

So when Gil-galad hears that Elrond punched someone, he generally assumes the person deserved it.

[shirefantasies]

hii! love your writings, I was wondering if you could do a reader x fellowship (plus eowyn and arwen) where reader is usually seen in armor and unkempt garments + dirty hair but then one day they show up (probably for an event) in beautiful fancy clothes, hair did and everything? Thanks!!!!

scREAMS I LOVE THIS YES. Warning: minor blood mention in two

LoTR Characters Seeing You Dressed Up For the First Time

Aragorn

Both of you had only borne witness to the other in times of battle and survival, not exactly the most formal of circumstances, but such had never even occurred to you until the night of celebration in Rohan. King Theoden invited you to the company of his family, offering his niece or nephew to take you to a bathhouse and present you with a new outfit. Aragorn turned your way the moment you stepped out, eyes positively glowing with reverent awe focused entirely on your form, your smile as your gazes met. He said nothing, simply drew closer until you could feel his warmth upon you. "The people of Rohan have been good to us," he said. "Yes," you agreed with a nod, "I wish we can give as much back. But perhaps we should start by enjoying their hospitality, hm?” “Indeed. Let us keep this night for ourselves. I fear if I stray too far, though, I may get lost in you.” “Don’t worry,” you whispered, lips quirking upward as you pulled Aragorn into the fray of dancers, “I’ll be here to pull you back, too.”

Legolas

Legolas managed to seem dressed up in nearly anything he wore, a feat you certainly envied! Your travels left you feeling like a drowned rat half the time or else just dirty and bedraggled. When the elves of Lothlórien offered you housing, bathing, even food and dancing for two nights, no had fled your vocabulary entirely. Taking their hands, you were swept off into a river of luxury, emerging clean and smiling and draped in the finest fabrics. An elf on either side, you made your way down to the lower flet upon which your hospitality lie, the way Legolas turned his head not once but twice unable to escape your notice. "What?" You teased, aware at least of his shock to see you clad so differently. "You didn't know what I looked like beneath my helmet?" "I didn't know you looked so nice beneath it," He conceded with a smile, stepping closer, "Perhaps we ought not to return it after this night."

Boromir

Had someone asked him, Boromir would never have said he wanted someone with blood under their nails and sword in hand. That was him, that was his job. And yet he felt something different when he clapped a hand to your shoulder after you saved him in combat. When you emerged at the party dressed up, though? His heart swelled five sizes. He should have known- you could do anything. “Putting everyone to shame here, aren’t we?” “What do you mean?” You asked, gaze flitting deliciously down to the hand Boromir laud upon your shoulder, all but challenging him. Accepting it, he rested the other on your hip, urging you out into a dance. “Looking better than them in both mail and finery.” “I suppose I’m just lucky.” “No, I am,” Boromir shot back, “For I am the one who gets to have you in my arms.”

Gimli

To use Gimli's words, around each other you two tend to remain "fully armed and filthy". It is Lord Elrond, of course, who offers an alternative state upon your entry to his homely-house, granting you the reprieve of your first bath in far too many days and even a new outfit. Elvish craftsmanship was like nothing else, delicately embroidered and soft and light unlike anything that has ever graced your skin. Reactions were something you hadn’t considered in the slightest, but as soon as you emerged you found yourself giggling at Gimli’s parted lips and removal of his helmet as if in some reverence you had not earned. “Now this,” he nodded with a smile of approval as he swept an arm over your entire form, “This is the one thing the elves have gotten right.”

Frodo

The tailors’ shop was busy this morning. Bilbo needed a new set of threads to replace some tugged-off buttons, but every working hobbit was rushing around before Frodo could even ask if they had a spool of forest green to spare. What were they- “Frodo!” He would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning, he caught sight of you in the middle of a fitting, the tailors having been flitting about your form as they worked on quite a fine outfit for you. “What do you think?” Spinning around and then striking a joking pose, you fixed him right in the eyes, and it was like an arrow struck him, taking the very breath from his lungs. Finally Frodo’s sense and words returned to him, bringing a smile to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Sam

You had worked with Sam plenty of times in the gardens, so he had seen you countless times in things like overalls or pinafores or aprons and thought you looked fit for any king and castle. But then came Fatty Bolger’s birthday party, a bash all his friends were invited to…and plenty of other hobbits would find themselves at anyway. One such was you, and knowing you’d be dancing you got cleaned up quite nice, standing at the edges of the lantern-hung floor hoping you might be noticed. And noticed you were, for you caught Samwise Gamgee as he controlled his gaping expression and shook his head out before he approached you, asking if you’d honor him with a dance.

Merry

Gimli was teasing you as Merry entered the room, feeling his heart shoot into his throat at a mere glimpse. He caught a few spare words from the dwarf, including him asking you if you had someone you’d like to impress. “Hush,” you chastised him, “What if he hears you?” At that, Merry couldn’t resist stepping forward. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress,” he told you, eyes full of wonder, “But he’s an absolute fool if it doesn’t work.” “You really think so?” Your tone, your hopeful look, those beautiful eyes Merry could drown in. “I know so.” “Well,” you glanced away, “That’s good. Very good, since it was you.”

Pippin

Tired and bedraggled, you all but fell into the arms of the elves of Lothlórien, blissfully bathing and shyly accepting the fine garb they offered you. Tugging it into place, you emerged through the doorway, unaware the rest of your fellowship waited beyond the threshold. Soon as his eyes fell upon you, Pippin's jaw dropped, his lips slowly curling upward into a wide smile that had you mirroring it, gaze dropping from his. “Wow," Pippin breathed as you drew closer still, hands hovering in front of him in the space between your bodies, "You- you look- Wow. They’ve certainly given you a fine…wow.”

Faramir

On the battlefield you had fought side by side, faces obscured by steel and focus. Soldiers from two armies melded as one. Yet here you were simply citizens, representatives of your people. Diplomats even on the dance floor. All thoughts of such relations fled from Faramir’s mind, though, as your form filled his vision. “Never did I think I would be granted such a moment as this,” he confessed as you took his hand and gripped about his neck, body swaying against his.

Eomer

Theoden, Rohan's king, was giving a celebration all were to attend. Something of a victory revel, but you must confess that you just looked forward to the dancing. Stuffy as it may have been, it was also quite fun donning a nice outfit, your reflection beaming back at you. The expression carried on all the way into the great hall, shining into the hanging lights. You caught sight of a head turning the moment you emerged. A golden head. Eomer. With a wave, he dismissed the man he spoke to- a fellow soldier, you presumed- and strode before you. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" "To the same thing everyone else does, I suppose," you teased in response, "This revel." "Well, remind me to thank my uncle later," Eomer replied with a wide smile, extending a hand in a clear invitation to dance as his eyes traveled up and down over your form, "Shall we?"

Eowyn

She had worn a smile of surprise when you even removed your helmet for the first time in her presence, let alone donning your finest. When it came time for a celebration with her people, a far different garb hung from your body, all in gorgeous fabrics and colors perfectly complimenting your own hues. As soon as you stepped into the light of Rohan's hall, Eowyn positively grinned, her eyes of soft blue alight. Taking up a cup from the table by which she stood, she crossed over to stand before you and offer you a drink, which you accepted. "The garb of Rohan suits you perfectly," she complimented, "Do you plan on dancing?" It was worth seeing the progression of shock and speechlessness melting back into a grin when you extended a hand and replied, "If you will have me."

Haldir

Working side by side meant seeing each other in some of the worst moments, sleeves slashed and blood seeping from wounds. Armor caked with dirt and quivering devoid of arrows. Body carried to healers with reddening bandages hastily tied around limbs. And yet this, this is what shocks him. Haldir’s breath is utterly stolen, not of concern or fear this time, but in the manner of one first seeing the falling stars. “Stay still,” he breathes, almost pleading, “Let me take you in for a moment.”

Galadriel

You were a warrior by profession. In a way, at least. One such that mail was your garb far more often than any dress or robe. Thus, when you made to visit the elves of Lothlórien, you were shocked to see the fine things they'd lain out for you, pulled gently onto your body as if you deserved servants. In fact you had tried to protest, but they had simply smiled and shook their heads as fine jewels were hung about your neck. That you had earned an audience with the Lady Galadriel, was a testament to your service you would not soon take for granted. Thus, as you stood before them, you made first to lower yourself in reverence. Before you could fully adopt your posture, though, you felt the grip of a soft hand beneath your chin gently pulling you back up. Soon you were raised to meet Galadriel's eyes. "You need not bow to me. I confess I wished very much to see you like this. Come with me, if you please."

Elrond

Some might say the Lord of Rivendell should not look upon a soldier such as he did. Some of those same voices might have spoken up of the love of man and elf that had brought forth his ancestors. Not that he would not have understood. Yet as it was every time you removed your helmet something stirred in Elrond that had not done so for some years. And then one night came the celebration, a festival to which all in his counsel were invited, you included. It was that very night, in fact, that he realized how little he had seen of you outside the patrols you took together, and the same in which he would confess to you how he felt beneath the moonlight, finally spilling forth every word of your beauty you deserved.

Arwen

Had you asked her, she would have thought not at all of your dress. Your heart was what she loved, the way you cared and the way you smiled whenever you looked upon someone dear to you. Yet the day of her birthday, you draped yourself in your very finest, emerging in the view of an Arwen who could not bear tearing her eyes off of you. Grinning her beautiful grin, the elf took your hand and immediately twirled you, viewing you from every angle with her expression never faltering. “You look amazing,” she told you, "For a moment, I thought I was dreaming."

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[shelleysmary]

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

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

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

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

[balrogballs]

The Clean Break

a little take on Aragorn and Elrond’s final meeting, a removed scene from Cast in Stone (no context required; it’s canon compliant) that I liked too much to toss.

Aragorn was Estel when he broke his wrist, somewhere between five and six years old. It was a perfectly ordinary break, which happened for a perfectly ordinary reason: he had been running about on a wet floor, slipped, and crashed over a threshold. Elladan and Elrohir had come running at his wails, picked him up and took him to Elrond.

He remembers how Elrond explained to him that it was a clean break, and a very small one — it would stop hurting in a few days if he kept it still. The twins, those ardent connoisseurs of broken bones, had kept up a steady stream of joking patter to distract him whilst their father slowly applied a pain-relieving poultice and began to wrap up the wound.

Estel had been sobbing and sobbing, regardless of how mild the injury truly was. He was only five years old, and was more frightened than hurt, because he had never broken a bone in his life and he did not understand what everyone was doing, did not understand why his arm was being covered in white cloth, and it did hurt quite a lot, so he wailed.

And at some point in the process, he remembers looking up and realising that his father was crying too. Elrond hadn't made a sound, but his cheeks were awash in silent, indecipherable tears. Aragorn remembers how his expression didn't change at all, blank and beautiful in the white afternoon light: wrought from stone like a weeping statue, a quiet miracle, a promise of faith.

He remembers Elladan's tense, barked-out "Ada! What is it? What is wrong? You said it’s a clean break!"

And Aragorn remembers how Elrond had sat back on his heels and smiled, the motion pulling his features back into familiar lines. He remembers sitting silently, watching the last tears fall down the marble face, as Elrond said: "hush, my boy, you will scare Estel. Nothing is wrong, it is only a clean break. He will be fine tomorrow."

"Then why are you in tears?" Elrohir had asked, equally worried.

"Oh dear, am I? Aha, I am. Truly, it is only because he is," Elrond admitted sheepishly, sniffing. He had stroked a lock of hair back from Estel's face, laughing self-consciously, and his voice shook only a little. "I hate seeing him in pain. It breaks my heart seeing him cry so ceaselessly, even for such a small cause. It is only that, Elrohir, do not worry."

At the time, the twins had laughed, teased their father for his softness as they often did, made so many jokes about it that even little Estel, who didn't really understand the fuss and at the time had just probably assumed Elrond had a broken wrist too, was laughing alongside the three of them for absolutely no reason at all. It was casual, domestic, completely ordinary and commonplace as far as his childhood went: there were funnier incidents, sadder scenes, happier conversations.

But for some reason, this one is Aragorn's first real memory. The day he broke his wrist is the scaffolding he built his life atop, the day he looked at his father and found something sacred within him.

________

"I thought for a very long time," Aragorn says, on the tallest tower in Minas Tirith, their final meeting. "About what I could give you as a parting gift."

"If it is anything extravagant," Elrond warns him, raising a finger. "You know as well as I that I will take it to mean you are offering me a bride price, and I will take deep offence."

Aragorn grins, winks: "it's actually less than worthless, financially speaking" and cackles at how Elrond actually looks somehow more offended at that option.

"And what is this less than worthless thing you are donating to the one who raised you all your life?" he raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "What castoff hand-me-down do you deign to bestow me with?”

"I know you must be weary of rings," Aragorn gestures at Vilya, winking away on Elrond's finger. "But perhaps this one may restore your faith in them."

"I am of a race that thinks nothing: jewels, lives, wars, is eternal," he continues, hair drifting over his face. "Of an old jewelry box my mother had, many trinkets were lost to time, some earrings were without a pair. And such loss of heirlooms never grieved us. After all, they were not ours to grieve."

"The oddest thing in the box was an old, battered golden ring. When I was first given the collection, I was only twenty yet already that ring was far too small for me. I thought that it belonged to a petite woman, perhaps a sister or a mother. Yet more recently, I was thinking of it and it confused me — why would a noblewoman own a cheap, plain ring? The other stones in the box were all precious, valuable, true heirlooms. When my mother died, she told me to pass them on to my children, and I will: but with this ring, I intend to disobey her."

"It was only some weeks ago, as Arwen showed me her own rings, that I realised something," said Aragorn, fishing around in his collar. "That this trinket I carry was no woman's ring, it was made to be worn by a child. You had given me one of these too, if you recall, as per tradition — on my sixth begetting day, a flat gold ring like this with my name carved into the inside. That was when I looked closer at this one, at the inscription on the inside of its hollow."

He unfastens the clasp on the chain, slips a small ring into Elrond's palm. He watches as all the blood leaves the elf's face only to be replaced by a harsh, terrible expression.

"Nothing is eternal, Ada," repeats Aragorn. "But some things should be."

"You are — you are giving me this?" Elrond's voice is strangled, eyes wide. "It —"

"I am. It is not mine to grieve."

Elrond does not say a word, does not even look at Aragorn, instead turning away and walking towards the far side of the balcony where he stood silently, ring clutched tightly in a shaking fist. Aragorn allows him to hold on to dignity.

Dignity, and a small, burnished gold ring.

It was rather battered, some of the plating rubbed off, a groove carved into it from all the times its owner tied it to a string and used it to tease cats with. It had a small dent in the frame, warping it slightly, and if you looked closely you could make out a little tooth mark, as though someone had a habit of gnawing at it. It was less valuable heirloom, more solid proof that the ancient king Elros Tar-Minyatur of Numenor, had once been a messy, careless little boy.

A few minutes pass, in which neither of them speak.

"I had nothing of him," Elrond tells him quietly after a while. "All my life, I had nothing of him at all. It had felt wrong, you see, sailing off to Numenor and demanding his possessions from his grieving children. So for five thousand years, I had nothing of him."

"But I never told you of him," Elrond's voice is searching, harsh and confused, trying to find a justification for the gift. "I had never told you of him, and yes, you had known of him from your lessons but I had tried so hard never to speak of him to you lest you, for one second, thought that I only loved you because you were the heir of Elros. You had no reason to know how I loved him, how fiercely I missed him, how I had nothing of him at all."

Elrond sounds almost angry, wrenching the words through gritted teeth like a scolding, his back still turned to Aragorn: "who made you so kind, Estel? Who made you so selfless — that you — that you give me this without ever being told — that you thought of it — who made you, boy?"

Elrond is breathing in deep, clarifying breaths and Aragorn stands there silently. He does not answer any of the fevered questions. It was Elrond, after all, who once told him over a chalkboard: stupid questions did not deserve answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Ada," says Aragorn at last, when only a sliver of sun is left behind in the sky. "Not for a moment. That is why I had… I had… that is why I had hoped we could have a clean break. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Elrond says, half-smiling as he turns back, composed again yet not entirely unruffled. "But I would rather it hurt in such a way, than it not hurt at all."

"Would you?"

"Of course," Elrond tells him, unconsciously running a finger across the flat, golden surface of the ring he had slid onto his smallest finger. "After all, the most treasured things in the world are only so valued because of how debilitatingly painful it would be to lose them."

Aragorn cannot speak. He has dawdled and delayed, pushed this parting to a cliff-edge, given gifts and made jokes, all the while waiting for a clean break that would never come for those who love like the two of them. He walks forward in a daze, and Elrond takes him into his arms and Aragorn is five again — building a life atop the scaffolding of the heart Elrond offered to him.

"I do not know what divinity made you this way," his father's voice is rough as he repeats his earlier question, but it does not break. "I do not know which of the Valar wielded the knife that carved you out of kindness. But I am glad, Estel, so glad that I know you."

Aragorn stays pressed in that embrace, shaking. He fights a sudden, absurd urge to laugh and roll his eyes, to say don't ask stupid questions, to say who made me kind? oh, I don't know, perhaps the one who loved me so wholly that he beheld a five year old's silly, childish tears, and wept that I shed them at all.

Still, he does not move: he does not want to see Elrond's face, does not want to see his own, not at this moment. Time passes, strains like molasses through linen, slowly and with great reluctance. At last, the king draws away and takes in this final image, the one who raised him standing before his son with an inscrutable expression on his face.

When he was younger, Aragorn used to think it might make it easier for his father to bend with the marred world if he learned how to be as cruel as it was, instead of taking each slap in the face as a surprise. But he understands now that whilst he wasn't looking, the marred world had bent itself to Elrond's gentleness; that it is a strength, an honest one, to be kind when the world not only abides by cruelty but insists upon it.

Aragorn cannot bring himself to turn and leave, wanting to brand Elrond’s face into the back of his eyelids with knife-hot tears. It is anything but a clean break.

“I cannot bring myself to turn,” he admits, the moonlight limning the silver in his hair. “Because when I turn, you'll be gone, and it will be the end of everything. Is this the end of everything now, Ada? Are we done now, you and I?"

Elrond smiles, looking at Aragorn in the same way he had always looked at him, every day since the moment he was put in his arms: eyes bright with unconditional adoration, unashamed pride, and a constant, total faith in him. He shakes his head.

"You and I will never be done,” he says softly; resolute. It is the only oath he ever makes.

[morganas-pendragons]

Twilight | Elrond Peredhel

You guys asked for an Elrond piece, so here's another one! This one will go into the drabbles on my masterlist. I haven't had much inspiration for fics for him (that means if you do, drop that into my inbox PLEASE)

prompt: elrond/you and twilight

tag: @thesolarangel @celebrimbormylove @ladyoflindon @pentaghasm

***

For all the things you have known him as over the years, you have never associated Elrond with darkness. He is the living embodiment of kindness incarnate, wrapped within the confines of an elven body that's also just a little bit too human for his own comfort. The light shines from the very heart of him. It is what makes him so alluring. So... beautiful.

Kind as summer, they say.

''What are we doing out here, my love?"

Where Elrond is kindness and light, you are gentleness and beauty personified. Gil-Galad has said for quite some time now that the two of you are the perfect complement for one another. You have endured the darkest of times, the deepest of grief, the heaviest of guilt and shame.

Yet here you are. Hand in hand, standing on the cliffs of Imladris above the wildflower fields as twilight peaks just over the trees on the other side of the river.

"I thought we could bask in the coming twilight together. Just us. Away from our responsibilities," Elrond teases. Your brow arches slightly to convey your disbelief as he grasps your hands and drags you down the hill toward the wildflowers. He has been so invested in rebuilding within the weeks following the Fall of Eregion that the two of you have scarcely seen each other, seeking the other out in the dead of night when sleep alludes you. "Just us. I miss us."

You smile and run your thumb along the back of his hand as the pair of you come to a stop. The twilight bleeds into the skies above you, casting red and purple shadows across the flowers as you take his hand into your own and lead the other to anchor against your waist.

Something lightens in him then: Something that he's been carrying for far too long that Elrond has been unwilling to let anyone else bear but him alone.

"We are eternal, Elrond. All that is us is eternal. The love we have shared across these years is eternal." You whisper. Your voice carries in the silence of the valley around you as you inch closer and press your toes into the dirt to be able to kiss him. Elrond tilts his head, lips parting of their own accord as he deepens your kiss and curls his tongue around your own. You don't know who is making those little, broken sounds of desperation and desire. It's probably both of you. You pull away first, grinning at him as he runs his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks.

"You believe me one that you could tolerate for all eternity, my dear?"

You would altercate and bleed at the very hands of the Valar themselves if it meant you would be granted the rest of your life to spend with Elrond Half-Elven.

"I would."

You hum softly as Elrond leans in, nuzzling your temple with his nose before he whispers in your ear, "Marry me then."

Gil-Galad stands vigil at the crest of the hill, idly twisting VIlya on his finger as he watches you leap into Elrond's arms, joyous laughter echoing across the fields as the pair of you stumble among the wildflowers.

"It was as I said, Celebrimbor," The High King murmurs quietly to himself. He can almost feel the presence of his dearest friend still lingering at his side if he focuses hard enough. "All we had to do was wait."