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thorne-kreizler-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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Marital Promises

AO3 fic link

Relationship: Thorin×Fem!Reader

Word count: 4099

Summary: Thorin and you fought too hard one day, sending each other into a spiral of not communicating in weeks. One night he tries to make amends, and you hope it’s not too late to save your marriage.

Khuzdul dictionary: -Amrâlimê: My love

-Bunnanunê: My tiny treasure

-Amralizi: I love you

Author's notes: -English is not my first language. I am open to suggestions of fixing grammar/vocabulary and even revising entire works.

-This fic emerged after reading @fizzyxcustard fic “Misunderstanding”.

Suggestions: Enjoy, comment your opinions and share!

***

Thorin Oakenshield was King Under the Mountain, and you were Queen. The good thing about your marriage was that you two loved each other dearly, which wasn't the norm when it came to royalty unions. You and your husband had gone through good and bad situations before, experienced ups and downs and were able to sort them out; that’s how a marriage was supposed to work, encountering difficulties and handling them, always ending together and happy again. But there had been a moment when you two had fought so harshly it didn't look as if it could be fixed easily.

It had been two months ago, during the banquet that was set to celebrate the fifth anniversary of Erebor’s reclaim. It was a special day for Thorin considering how important it had been for him and all dwarves to regain their home, but his joy dissipated entirely after hours of not only not capturing your attention but also not being the first dwarf to take you out to dance. If you were entirely honest, you had been drinking way before the celebration started. By the time everyone was sitting at the big and abundant table, you had a great time getting to know new friends. Most of them were lords, who took your hand and led you through the dance floor before your husband could. Thorin was not amused by the way his wife seemed to ignore him all day during his special occasion, and even worse, because of other dwarves.

The next day, and the following one, and the one after it, he ignored you. Suddenly he was too busy attending different royalty matters; he went to bed after you'd fallen asleep and got out of the room before you woke up. You followed the routine, but he never showed up for lunch nor dinner. Even though you felt lonely, there had been previous occasions in which you two barely saw each other, so you'd thought it'd be over soon, like it had been many times before. But then you started asking the royal workers where Thorin was, and realized he wasn’t that busy at all; he had been eating alone or with friends, pacing the halls boredly, calling for extra public petitions forums and checking in different matters that weren’t completely necessary. He could have definitely taken some time to be with you.

So you confronted him, staying up till late one day to surprise him when he got to the shared bedroom. You had made sure to tell the staff you were going to sleep (because you had the suspicion he would ask them if you had fallen asleep before entering the chamber), and two hours later, around midnight, the door opened. You closed the book (which you could barely read because of how tired you were by that time) and got up from the armchair. Thorin spotted the lit candles and then saw you, standing there, and looked away.

“What are you doing awake so late?” He asked with a casual tone while walking to sit on a chair, which enraged you further because you two hadn’t seen each other in days and he didn’t even smile at your sight.

“I could ask you the same question.” You answered.

Thorin shot you an annoyed look before sitting down and starting to untie his boots.

“Royalty duties. You know I have responsibilities and sometimes they take all day long.” He spoke with some resentment in his voice.

“For three days in a row with no time to eat with me?” You walked closer to him and crossed your arms over your chest.

He finished taking off his footwear before sighing deeply and looking up at you, serious.

“Do you want to reproach me about something, love? Do it quickly, I want to go to sleep.” The king said rudely and got up. He walked past you, heading to his closet.

You were outraged when turning around and facing him. “Yes, I do want to complain.”

“Do you? Then go ahead.” Thorin spoke like he didn’t care one bit about what you had to say.

Then you exploded, accusing him of not living up to the expectations of a married life and being secretive with his own wife. He snapped back at that instantly, despite his attempts of remaining cold and unbothered. The king accused you of being the one who failed to fulfill the marital promises in the first place. He screamed at you, which only made you bite back. With uncontrollable anger on both sides, sleepiness taking over your ability to think before speaking and refusals to listen to the valid points of the other one, the argument escalated until he hurt your feelings, and you hurt his. It was a relief that the walls were made of pure stone; if they weren’t, the whole staff would have heard every harsh word that was screamed inside the royal chamber.

“Do not speak to me of loyalty!” He had said. “You were surrounded by dwarves who approached you unequivocally being suggestive, yet you did nothing to stop them! People might have thought you actually enjoyed it! At my own celebration!! That was an embarrassment. I’m disappointed in you as my wife.”

“I'm so sick of you! Of your pent up anger, cold demeanour and childish behaviour!” You had screamed back with tears threatening to wet your cheeks. “If I’m such a bad wife, to the point in which you do not even want to dine with me, then leave the room and never speak to me again!”

After that night, you two picked new bedrooms to sleep at, separated. The royal workers had been ordered to take the personal belongings of each and rearrange them in the new chambers. From then on, you hadn’t slept with your husband and definitely didn’t go back to the routine of eating together. It had been weeks since that.

You closed your eyes and placed your forehead into your hands, trying to forget about the argument. But the memories kept coming back, like a curse that haunted you. You shook your head, sighing. There definitely was work to do on your outbursts, as well as Thorin needed to work on his repressed anger. Luckily, a knock on your bedroom’s door distracted you from the memories.

“My queen?” You heard Halda's voice, your personal maid.

“Come in.” You said and your voice sounded quiet and wavering.

Your voice was worn out because lately you hadn't talked to anyone. At your request, nobody ever bothered you as you stayed in your chamber alone every day, only going out to read under the sun when natural light was very much needed. Still during those occasions you never came across anyone, avoiding all kinds of contact. The servants were to take dinner to your new cold chamber.

“My queen,” Halda said while entering the bedroom. “I've come to bring your lunch…” She took a pause before speaking again. “And to tell you the King asked me to bring you this…”

“Do not say more.” You interrupted her, looking through the window with a frown, watching the midday sun clean the white rock that held up the mountain high and strong. “Please leave it on the desk and leave.” You said with a brittle voice. The situation hurt you a lot, but unless Thorin apologized in person, you didn't wish to maintain contact with him. That was your pride taking over you.

“My queen,” Halda spoke again, after leaving the tray on the desk and picking the plate she had brought for breakfast hours ago, which was still half full. “he insists on telling you he wants you to join him…”

“Please, get out.” You ordered and closed your eyes. “I do not wish to be bothered.”

“Of course, my queen. Forgive me.” You saw from the corner of your eye that she bowed.

“Do not apologize. It’s not you who started this, and I’m not mad at you.”

“As you wish, my queen.”

When the door closed, leaving you alone and silent again, you laid in bed and allowed yourself to be true to your feelings for the first time in days. You cried your heart out, feeling cold and empty, until you were so exhausted that you fell into a deep sleep.

…

Thorin had been in the dining hall for over an hour. He had tried, since midday, to concentrate on his duties, but the thought of whether you would accept or not his invitation to dinner was unsettling him. Since he couldn’t concentrate on his duties, or in any pleasant distraction even, he showed up to eat before it was planned. The kitchen servants started to run from one place to the other, cooking as fast as possible and preparing the table for the king who had arrived earlier. When dinner was ready, the king asked to speak with Halda.

“Tell me what she said.” He demanded, his voice soft but deep as always.

“My king,” She whispered a bit afraid, knowing what was about to come. “she asked not to be bothered.” Thorin slowly nodded, closing his eyes while growling. “She never gave a clear answer, and she might as well show up when it’s actually time for dinner…”

“You can leave now.” Thorin interrupted.

“Yes, my king.” She rushed out of the dining hall.

“I'm so sick of you! Of your pent up anger, cold demeanour and childish behaviour! If I’m such a bad wife, to the point in which you do not even want to dine with me, then leave the room and never speak to me again!” He remembered your words, and the guilt ate him alive. Were you serious about not wanting to speak to each other anymore? Was the situation that bad?

Your extremist decision of never walking around Erebor had been devastating for him, since he couldn’t cross paths with you and try to talk. Of course he could have simply walked to your room, but he didn’t want to risk another fight that would make the marriage even more unsavable. There was also a bit of pride that participated in the making of the decision, but he was more than used to that feeling, so he didn’t realize. Your complaint of him not wanting to eat with you haunted him, because he knew it was a thing that mattered a lot to you; to share a bit of time together, even if it was only ten minutes, sitting close and enjoying nice meals while updating each other on their days and plans. But he had been so angry that he gave no care to the things that kept the marriage going, even during the busy weeks when you couldn’t see each other at all times.

His way of trying to start a conversation was by giving you what he had so selfishly denied you. But the thought that you had given up in the relationship filled him with an early grief that broke his heart. The big gate of the dining room closed, and to that it followed the sound of plates, cups and food crashing against the ground with loud noises. The king let out a scream from the core of his chest, getting up. He then took the tablecloth and pulled from it until he had thrown every bottle and tray to the ground. The guards flinched and the mess Thorin provoked was heard from nearby rooms, making the servants prepare themselves to clean the dining hall.

The King Under the Mountain left and the place remained silent.

…

You opened your eyes and stood up quickly after realizing you had fallen asleep. When looking around, you saw only darkness. Once your eyes got used to the gloom, you lit the candle from your bedside table and then the fireplace. You sat for a while in front of the big cackling fire, eating the food that had been brought to you hours ago, despite it being cold. You were feeling numb, but not physically. You couldn't think of anything or concentrate on your feelings, only on the rising fire in front of you, warming your body and blinding your eyes with white and red brightness. It was peaceful, really, and you very much needed those few minutes of silencing your brain.

When you were done eating, you decided to read for a while under the moonlight. You took the tray to your desk in order to keep a minimum level of order in the chamber, and there you saw it; a letter. You frowned, and after stirring in your memories, you remembered that Halda had left something Thorin wanted to give you. But that had been many hours ago. You dropped the tray, not minding the broken glass cup, and quickly picked the envelope. The truth was, that even while acting indifferent, you cared about your husband. A lot. No stupid fight could ever make you stop worrying about him or loving his majestic personality. What you had said about his “childish and cold demeanor” wasn’t entirely true; there was way more in him than jealousy and anger, which is why you fell in love in the first place.

You sat in front of the fireplace again and opened the letter. It read:

“Amrlâlimê, love of my life, who I chose as my companion and queen:

I wish to apologize for my manners. What I said wasn't fair, and I haven't been sincere with my feelings nor with you, Bunnanunê. I do not wish for that unleashed fight to keep affecting us. Please, do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight.

Amralizi,

-Your king and husband, Thorin Oakenshield”

You covered your trembling lips with a shaking hand, then looked out the window and deduced that the night was nearing midnight. You sighed with guilt and ran out of your bed chamber, almost forgetting to put an appropriate cloak on. While you headed to the dining hall, rushing down dozens of stairs and running through multiple corridors, many heads turned to look at you. You even met Dwalin while he was coming out of a door in one of the hallways. Well, you rather collided with him.

“My queen!” He exclaimed, surprised.

“I am so sorry, Dwalin.” You sighed, agitated. “I’m in a rush.”

“Then I won't stop you.” He stepped aside with a nod of his head.

You lowered your head too as a quick greeting and kept on running. But before stepping down on another pair of stairs, it occurred to your slow sleepy mind that because Dwalin and Thorin were so close, he might as well know where he was. The king probably hadn’t been sitting at the dining table for hours, waiting for you. So you turned around and shouted so Dwalin could hear you.

“Do you know where Thorin is?”

“I do, my queen.” He said, but didn’t turn to face you.

“Oh…” You walked back and stopped next to him. “Tell me.”

He sighed and looked at you. “He asked to not be bothered by anyone, no exceptions. So I cannot tell you.”

“Dwalin…” You lowered your head with tears in your eyes. “Tell me where he is. I made a mistake and need to make amends with him.” Since you didn't hear an answer, you kept on trying to persuade him. “I think you and everyone knows Thorin and I haven't been… Well.” He looked at you with soft eyes, slightly moved. “You worry about him as much as I do, and I'm sure that if we don't solve our problem now, he might go mad.” Dwalin looked away, sighing and weighing the possibilities.

And when a slight impatience filled your chest with a tightening anxiety, you suddenly remembered: You were the Queen of Erebor. You shouldn't be begging to talk to your husband. Your marital promise had been to stay with Thorin until the end. What kind of royal member would allow their duties to be unfulfilled because of a disobedient friend? So you spoke again, putting on the serious demeanor that you’d been perfecting in order to use it during important political situations: “I order you to tell me where he is. I’m the queen, Dwalin. And Thorin was the one who tied me to him with a marital knot. If he really wished to be alone, he wouldn’t have asked me to be his companion! Now tell me where he is!”

Dwalin looked up, surprise and concern invading his eyes, since it was the first time you snapped at him like that. “He's at the forge.” The dwarf answered, not yet convinced he was doing the right thing by disobeying a direct order from Thorin.

You looked at him with a big smile, whispered a “Thank you” and rushed to the forge.

…

The rhythmic sound of the hammer against the iron and the king's groans filled the place, along with a permanent heat that came from the lit forge. He was still thinking about you. It had not been possible for him to take you out of his mind during the night, so he made it his goal to stay there, crafting and refining to appease his feelings. Even before opening the gate, you could hear your husband’s growls, and it worried you. It wasn't a new thing for him to calm himself down with his crafting, but this time, you knew you were the cause for his anger. You opened the gate slowly, almost not wanting him to hear you. But he did, and the sound of the hammer stopped so suddenly that the utter silence still reproduced the echo of the previous hitting.

“I asked not to be interrupted.” Thorin said with a low but agitated voice. “Now what could be so important…?!” He turned around, and when he saw you, the hammer fell to the ground with a loud noise.

The place remained silent, only the forging fire daring to make a noise. You couldn't look at him, much less talk to him. For a moment you thought of running back to your lonely chamber and locking yourself up. What if he was still mad? And what if he didn't want to see you? What if it was all lost already?

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin whispered and slowly approached you.

In that moment, all fear and doubt vanished. You remembered the times he called you that, kissed you and made you remember you were his one. And when you saw him, you remembered how much you loved and longed to be with him. His lips were parted, threatening to form a smile. His eyes were shiny, big and expectant. There was a sudden light that traveled his face and set hope in him, which turned his expression so soft you could melt like the iron he had just been working with. He had sweat on his face and was almost completely covered in dust from working; despite not being clean, you always thought that look was so masculine and sexy. When you met his gaze, Thorin seemed to take it as a sign that you weren’t going to run away or shout at him, and he quickened his steps. He stood in front of you, took your hands in his and got on one knee, resting his forehead on your wrists while kissing your knuckles.

“Amrâlimê…” He repeated, and you felt his warm breath against your hand. You were frozen despite the heat of the place. “You are here.”

“Yes, I am.” You whispered, not really knowing what to say.

“You sound doubtful.” Thorin said, insecure, and slowly raised his head, linking your gazes. His eyes were so passionate that they filled your own self with strong emotions. “Don't you want to be with me?”

“I do! I do. I do want to be with you.” You said quickly. “The thing is… I wasn't expecting this reaction from you.”

“After many moons of not meeting with you, how else would I react?” He asked, getting up. You could watch him closer then, admiring his bright eyes and paying attention to every one of his handsome features.

“I never thought you would want to see me again.” You said lowly, lowering your gaze.

“Why wouldn't I want to see you?” He asked, confused. “I love you. I asked you to be my wife…”

“And I accepted! Because I love you too… But you’ve pushed me away, love.”

“But why would you think I don’t want to see you for weeks?” Thorin seemed so sincerely confused it annoyed you. How could he not know?

You looked at him raising your eyebrows, outraged. “Allow me to think.” You said looking at the ceiling and crossing your arms. “First you avoided me for days, then you screamed at me, and called me a bad wife. After that you agreed to sleep in separate rooms, then you did not come looking for me in months, and you just told Dwalin not to be bothered by anyone! No exceptions, he said…”

He chuckled lightly at the end and shook his head. He looked so beautiful that suddenly all your pent up desire bloomed and you wanted to jump at him and kiss him hard. “I ordered that to Dwalin because I did not think of the possibility you would look for me.” He explained, a bit ashamed.

“Why wouldn't I look for you? Even though you hurt me…” You swallowed, a cry threatening to come back and making a lump in your throat. “Why would I reject an apology?”

This time Thorin was the one who raised his eyebrows. “Well, allow me to think.” He mimicked your corporal actions and voice tone comically, surprisingly making you laugh. “First you ignored me all day during my celebration feast, then you accused me of not being a good lover, after that you told me to not speak to you ever again. You suggested sleeping in separate rooms, locked yourself in your chamber for months, and on top of it all you did not come to join me for dinner tonight…”

It was your turn to shake your head with an amused smile. “I fell asleep before reading your letter.” You explained, chuckling softly and feeling your body relax slightly; it wasn’t as bad as you had thought it would be. After all, you had chosen a good husband. You could sort things out, even when the situation was bad; that had been your marital promise. So you decided to abandon all your pride by then. “I'm really sorry, love.” You looked at him with sad eyes and lips tightened in a straight line. Guilt had done its damage to you too.

Thorin shook his head and placed your foreheads together, holding onto your hands dearly. It kept surprising you how soft and careful he could be with such big hands, strong body and imposing looking. “I am sorry, Bunnanunê. You were right; I failed to fulfill my husband duties.”

“I also forgot my vows when I abandoned you and refused to fix things immediately.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “I’m afraid both of us have failed to keep up with our promises.”

He was silent for a moment, then whispered “I am working on a ring at the moment. I’ll look for your favorite gem tomorrow to complete it, and we’ll renew our vows when I gift you the ring.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with a big smile and a tear already making its way down your face. You couldn’t believe your ears; after all that happened, he kept finding ways of mending the relationship. You were so, so lucky to have him as a husband. Someone who tried, very hard, to stay with you and be a good companion. You nodded intensely and he smiled too, then lowered his hands to your waist. You both looked at each other, melting in a hug and closing your eyes. Little by little, you got closer and closer until you kissed. It was a slow kiss, deep, loving and letting show how much your bodies had missed each other those past weeks. You two had a lot to talk about Thorin's management of his emotions and your dangerous outbursts, but that kiss told you that you wouldn't have to be alone. You would work together in the amending of your own selves and the relationship you so madly wanted to keep forever. The marital promises had to be repeated, and this time, kept.

***

#my work #thorne kreizler fanfiction #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #fanfic #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #romance #fluff #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3

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echo-bleu · 1 year ago

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Noldor Hair Headcanons (3/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Some lighter Kidnap Fam content, after the downhill freefall that was the last chapter. With a dash of Finrod in Valinor.

Elrond and Elros have never had their hair braided when they end up with Maedhros and Maglor.

They don’t realize what they’re asking when Elros grabs a hairbrush and puts it in Maglor’s hand.

Maglor understands that, but decides that the twins need parental care, even though he has no right. He brushes their hair and leaves it loose at first.

But the twins have watched Maglor braid Maedhros’s hair and they soon start asking for more interesting hairstyles.

Eventually Maglor explains to them that it can only be done by family.

The twins have a whole silent conversation.

“What does it take to be family?” Elros asks eventually.

Well, braiding an unrelated child’s hair is pretty close to informal adoption.

Elros forces the brush into Maglor’s hand again.

Maglor stares.

Elrond shakes his head and runs out.

Of course, Elrond must hate them. He has every right. Sure, Elros has started to warm up to them, but that’s just because he’s affection-starved, probably. They’re still kidnappers.

Maglor is about to put down the brush and try to refuse when Elrond comes back.

He’s holding a second hairbrush.

He hands it to Maedhros expectantly.

Maedhros cries.

Maglor cries.

The twins’ hair really doesn’t hold braids very well, and they’re still kids who run around and play, but damn them if Maglor and Maedhros aren’t going to do their best.

Now all of their people can see that the twins are well-loved.

Maedhros and Maglor also proudly sport a few clumsy, wonky braids each.

They’re less wonky with time, and eventually the twins are doing their fathers’ (kidnappers’) hair as often as not.

Finrod is reembodied shortly before Eärendil and Elwing gets to Valinor. It’s too early and he’s Not Doing Well. While in Middle Earth, he was the one who let basically every one of his friends braid his hair, now he can’t stand the thought of someone touching him that way.

But Beleriandic battle braids feel wrong in Tirion. And he’s desperately trying to reckon with his trauma, with Sauron defeating him by singing about the kinslaying, so he can’t leave his hair loose like the Teleri.

And he can’t quite get the sight of Edrahil’s bloody braids spat out by a werewolf out of his head.

He wears nothing but the very strange-looking (to Amanyar) Mourning Braids he designed after Dagor Bragollach for a couple of years.

Then after an episode of really bad depression and nearly fading, he cuts his hair short.

No-braiding-possible kind of short.

While not unheard of in Beleriand (sometimes former thralls keep their hair very short, like Rog), it’s unthinkable in Valinor, especially for the Crown Prince of the Noldor.

He is stared at a lot, his reputation goes down the drain, but to Finrod it’s liberating.

He does let his hair grow out again eventually, but only when other Exiles start coming back and choose to keep the Beleriandic braid styles, and it becomes a fashion statement rather than a mark of shame.

Finarfin is Very Shocked arriving in Beleriand when he finds his (single remaining) child with her hair loose and everyone else with weird self-braided battle hairstyles.

After a battle or three where he ends up with his hair matted with blood and mud, he caves and gets Galadriel to give him battle braids.

By the end of the war he’s even learned to do them himself! Let it not be said that King Arafinwë Ñoldóran didn’t rise to his calling.

The night before sending the Elrond and Elros to Gil-galad, Maedhros and Maglor undo all of their braids. Everyone cries.

Maedhros and Maglor meant this to minimize the ‘taint’ their names would put on the twins, by making it look like they were still hostages to the end, but the twins stop on the way to do each other’s hair because one does not meet a king with their hair loose, they have manners (which the Fëanorians taught them, so they’re Very Specific Manners), so the effect is lost. Gil-galad has Questions. The twins refuse to lie.

Then, before going to steal the Silmarils, Maedhros and Maglor do each other’s hair, in a style of their father’s that they haven’t worn since the Oath.

Maglor braids a single golden ribbon into Maedhros’s hair.

They have very few pieces of hair jewellery left of their brothers’, but they use all of them.

They both know it’s the last time.

To be continued

I did some sketches for visual reference of a few of the hairstyles mentioned here, if you want to see what I'm imagining!

#noldor hair headcanons #if i am to braid my mystic crown #noldor #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #finrod #kidnap fam #silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #echo's fanfiction

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valardynasty · 10 months ago

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Galadriel et Annatar

Création par Intelligence Artificielle

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searchingforserendipity25 · 8 months ago

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Fearing Not A Shadow Nor A Chill

Day 5 of @elrondweek. Elrond/Celebrían & Children. Here or on AO3.

"I used to long very much," Celebrían had told him once. "For a playmate as near in age as Elros was to you."

Elrond had not answered. He walked beside her, by shores of the Aduin's first strong fountain-streams, and very carefully did not look too plainly upon Lady Celebrían's curved mouth, the yarrow leaf she turned and turned between her fingers.

He needed not to speak. Lady Celebrían, he had learned very quickly, was not one to wait very long to complete her ideas, none of which, she plainly felt, required much counsel or permission at all.

"Amroth was so much the elder, and so much a stranger even to my parents, who loved him as a cousin and as a son. I was lonesome and without companions, and though the joys and secrets of Lórien need not be shared to be true, still I have found them to be the greater when seen by two, and not one alone."

"So it is, in most places I have journeyed to, and not Lórien alone," said Elrond, carefully. It was the early days of their friendship, and already he had learned to be cautious with his mind and words and heart near Lady Galadriel's daughter, grey-eyed Celebrían whose conversations was like the waters of her own lands, leaping, quick and meandering and full of hidden roots to trip upon.

"I suppose, then, you would wish for children, and not one alone. That is good." Celebrían said, as if it were a natural thing to speak of, on the eve of battle, to the king's own herald.

Her eyes shone, too, with a brightness of sun on water, a glimmering laughing attention. Elrond's heart tripped in his chest, slipped from him again and again.

"I said to Elros I would not marry, if I could not present my children to their uncle."

"He must have teased you very badly," Celebrían guessed, looking at him through her lashes rather shamelessly. "I am sorry I shall not meet him; but then he has so very many descendants, some evil and some not, which on the whole may be better. He may not have wished you to know them, but not much can be done on that account; and at least any children of yours shall not lack for kin. How many would you prefer?"

Elrond, more ancient than some of the rivers and mountains of Imladris, wise in languages and laws and magics, stared.

Smiled, too, a little helplessly. He could not ever quite stop turning towards her when she looked at him with all that bare attention, and he never would; and knowing he never would did not much help in delaying love from taking root.

"A maiden," he said. A woman-child, with Elwing's quick hands at the loom, and Celebrian's way of worrying at the corner of her mouth with her thinking - he saw it, that sure alighting of love.

Celebrían nodded. As if it were that simple - as if it were an agreement, a handfasting, a promise.

"It will be good for the boys to have a sister," Celebrían said. "I used to long very much for a playmate near my age, and another a little my elder, to hide mischief from our parents better."

Elrond, old enough to remember when islands rose at the will of the gods, and all the sea-loving birds flew Westwards in a rush, smiled at her, helplessly enchanted.

The days of their early friendship: war ravaged the lands beyond Elrond's hidden valley fortress still. He had not known how to love her. His heart sang, assured from the first, a winged thing certain of its perfect flight - but he had not known her, truly.

He had not meant to be more than a host, her mother's friend - for whatever little that meant. Celebrían was not one to care very much for other people's good intent, when hers was so often an improvement.

For many years they were half-stranger and half-lovers, looking at each other with clear eyes. Over riverbanks and running fountains, desks and dances and the narrow, narrow curving staircases of Imladris, where the brush of a sleeve against a curling palm could be hidden, almost an accident, almost nothing.

To be wed was a thing the Noldor choose only in times of peace, though the the Sindar delayed seldom. Elrond's parents had not waited, and not their parents either; but he did. He was only himself, and too himself to dare otherwise.

Celebrían, he knew, would not have been against a bold flight of passion, not least eloping while her father tarried - would serve him well, she thought.

For Elrond only she delayed. Went patient with her words, and deeds, and the turnings of her mind, as she never had before, or would again.

He thought of it, afterwards, when her ship went where the gulls loved to go, to the place where Elwing's tower rose high, and beyond. All that times spent, that half-time.

There had been a sweetness, too, in the stretching of anticipation, but he could not be certain, afterwards. How they had tasted in his mouth, those kisses ungiven; if his hand had stung to brush her silks, if it had hurt half as much as remembering it would for many centuries.

Twins, they had, on purpose. Celebrían was determined, and determined to wait until Elrond was certain he could stand to want it - two little souls, as near in age as Elros had been to him.

Two were enough, they both agreed. Two sons, alike to each other to the tilt of their noses and the curl of their braids. Celebrían's children, restless and in love with the world.

Elrond's children, too, though it felt marvelous and absurd and terrible, many times, to claim such joy as his own. His children, who held his hands as they crossed the many bridges of Imladris, and brought him small treasures, and shared the same closeness he had once known with his own Elros.

Elrohir liked to run, to sing, to make mischief and pull laughter out of Imladris's people like a spark out of a flint - a brusque little surprise, flaring and vulnerable.

He had Celeborn's mouth, and Celeborn's way with beasts and rooted things, and rarely was he ever alone, pockets full of little lizards and shoulders covered with dark eyed minks, ancient serpents twining around his small, very breakable wrists.

He made friends wherever he went, respectful and cheerful and terribly silly; Glorfindel, once of Gondolin by way of friendship with Turgon and Finrod before him, spoke at times with Celebrían of her uncle.

He never made a comparison, never said the words; but it was perhaps a good thing Elrohir had been born of a people and a time with no need for the raising up of new kingdoms. It was perhaps a sorrow, too, but Elrohir never seemed to feel the lack of greatness very sharply, nor the pulling tides of the past either.

Elladan was not so.

Elladan spent half his childhood trying to escape the valley, and the other half hiding wherever he could, in a dozen secret little places that became veiled even to Elrond's senses far too quickly.

He felt sadness very keenly, his mind open like Elrond's to the many voices of the wind and the water and the earth, yet more like his mother's kin, in how the shadows on the hearts of those near and far struck fear and unease and anger in him.

He wept very often, and afterwards laid on their chests, all exhausted weight and heavy eyelashes. Elrond held him the tightest; Elrond was very determined to do so always.

For comfort, Elladan liked to play with the rings in his father's hands, to follow the trail of Iathrim inkings and hunting scars beneath Celebrían's skin. And then of course his brother came to find him, whenever he was distressed, as Elros had found Elrond in Amon Ereb and Sirion and Mithlond, wherever in dying Beleriand that long terrible war brought them.

"This is very good," Celebrían conceded, pressing her nose against their sons's sweet curls, one after the other.

Celebrían pressed her palm to his, her long marked fingers against his rings, Vylia flaring cold and alive wherever at her touch. Her attention set upon him was no less heady. His breast sang towards it only the most surely, whenever his wife's sly joy pressed against his mind; and for an instant the shadow of what might be was easy on it, nearly easy.

She had always seen him very easily, Celebrían Galadriel's daughter. Braver than he, and less patient, was the Lady of Imladris.

"Very good, and no one left lonesome; but I do recall there is a thing not yet done, that I would like to accomplish, and Elros Peredhel would be sure to tease us both very badly, if we both put it aside, on his account."

She came last, the maiden-child with a worried mouth. Tall and fair and not quick to laughter, eager to learn, his stubborn-minded cupbearer and apprentice and scribe.

Then Elrond was happier still, for many years; he had half-forgotten the old images of foresight. It was a long time before his daughter Arwen took to the loom, sitting intent and silent by her mother's bedside, weaving love into a cloak fashioned for warmth; a traveling garment, spelled against the sting of salt.

#elrond #elrondweek #celebrian #elladan #elrohir #arwen #fic #lotr #silmarillion #tolkien fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #my fics #celrond

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lathalea · 8 months ago

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Congratulations on your followers! 🎉✨🧚🏼‍♀️ I am so happy to see you on my feed that I am not sure what I could even request… Would it be ok to request an Aragorn x reader ficlet with

26. Hurt/Comfort AU and

5. “You did this for me?” (Maybe Aragorn got protective of the reader and she takes care of his wounds… just a little suggestion)

I am really not sure if I did this right and I apologize in advance if I did something wrong or made you uncomfortable. Thank you for doing this 💜 I hope you have a wonderful day Take care <3

Thank you so much and thank you for your wonderful ask! I hope you will enjoy the story I wrote for you... and I hope you don’t mind I tweaked your prompt a tiiiiiny bit ;)

The Golden Hour

The sudden battle with the Ringwraiths at Amon Sûl took a toll on everyone. Frodo’s wound was serious — more serious than you have ever seen. It was a Morgul-blade, after all. The other Hobbits were shaken, but unscathed. What a relief. But then you noticed Aragorn clenching his left hand and giving out a slight hiss.

“You’re wounded!” Instantly, you recalled that he held that burning torch in this hand, attacking the wraiths with it mere moments ago.

“It’s nothing, my lady.” He shook his head and examined Frodo’s wound. “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine.”

“Rivendell?” Your gaze met his. There was a frown on his handsome face when he nodded in agreement.

“We have no time to lose,” he said, looking at Frodo's pale face.

“I’ll take him there,” you stated. Your bay mare whinnied in agreement. It would not be your first race against death, and the Ranger knew it well.

After you placed Frodo safely before you, Aragorn gave your hand a squeeze.

“Ride with the grace of Valar.” He spoke with a glint in his eye.

The coarseness of his skin against yours made you tremble a little, and you looked away. You did not want him to read what hid in your eyes. He was the Strider, the legendary Ranger of the North, and you were… well, just you. A girl from nowhere — or everywhere. You met on the trail a couple of months ago and since then you travelled together. Both of you seemed to enjoy each other’s company. You exchanged tales by the fire, sang songs under the stars, or simply rode in silence, admiring the beauty of the landscape ahead of you.

Then four hobbits joined you in Bree and from their whispered remarks you understood that the Strider was guiding them somewhere. Wandering hobbits were quite unusual, just like their mission had to be, but you never asked any questions. You understood they had their secrets, and you respected it. In the meantime, you scouted the area, took night watches together with Aragorn, and made sure that Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were safe. Now, you were about to do it once again — for Frodo.

And so you rode like the wind, day and night, night and day, fleeing from the black shadows trying to catch up with you. But you and your mare were faster, leaving the dull thudding of their ghastly steeds’ hooves behind.

You crossed the fast-flowing waters of the river Bruinen with haste, and soon you found yourself in the Last Homely House, Lord Elrond’s domain. He was glad to see you in Imladris again and took care of the barely conscious Frodo right away. Elrond’s healing powers were legendary, so you were almost certain that he would succeed. And so he did.

A couple of days later Aragorn and the three hobbits arrived, exhausted and hungry. You could not help but notice how he held his left hand, fisted and close to his chest. There were deep shadows under his eyes.

“Let me see to your hand,” you said, closing the distance between you.

“The hobbits first,” he spoke quietly. You knew his face well by now; it was pale. Too pale for your liking.

That was when lady Arwen arrived, welcoming the new guests. As soon as you exchanged a glance with her, she swiftly moved towards Sam, Merry and Pippin.

“Welcome to Imladris, dear guests. May I offer you a place to rest and something to replenish your strength?” she spoke in her melodious voice, turning to the hobbits. Only then did Aragorn allow you to take him to his quarters.

You rolled up his left sleeve when he sat on his bed, and then you examined his arm. It looked like a large part of his hand and forearm was covered with burns, probably when one of the wraiths attempted his final attack, his robes on fire. You worked slowly, meticulously, and as gently as you could. At the end, you covered his skin with an elvish ointment given to you by lord Elrond and bandaged the worst-looking wounds. It would take some time, but you knew he would be fully healed.

When you were done with your work, he was already asleep. The only thing you could do was to cover him with a blanket and leave him to rest.

***

A few days later you decided to take a walk in lord Elrond’s gardens. Whenever you visited Rivendell, you liked to stroll through this magical place, but this time you were not alone. On the path ahead of you, you saw a familiar figure bathed in the warm light of the evening sun.

“My lady,” the Ranger bowed his head and you saw how differently he looked from the man you had come to know on the road. Gone was the tiredness from his face and the grime from his clothes. Now, he wore green elvish robes, and his freshly washed hair softly fell onto his shoulders. In the golden light of the setting sun he looked more like a ruler of an ancient realm than a travelling swordsman.

“I have been looking for you,” he added. “I would like to thank you for what you did: for saving Frodo’s life, and with him, perhaps even something greater. And for caring for me when I needed it the most.”

“I haven’t done anything unusual. This is what one does when their travelling companions are in need. How is your arm doing today?” You glanced at his freshly bandaged arm.

“It is better, thanks to you.” A small smile appeared on his face, reaching the grey pools of his eyes. There was something in his gaze that made you smile back at him.

“Tomorrow I will have to leave Rivendell and continue my journey,” Aragorn continued. “It is a perilous one, and I do not know when or if I will return. I would like you to have this as a token of my appreciation. Something to remember me by, perhaps.”

“A necklace? Is that a mountain crystal? You made this for me?” you blinked in disbelief, looking at the crystal glinting golden in the sun, and at the elegantly interwoven leather straps that held it.

“I began making it on the road. They call this kind of crystal the elvenstone. May I?”

“Of course.” You bit your lower lip as Aragorn placed the necklace around your neck. He stood so close to you, you felt the warmth of his fingers brushing against the sides of your neck, and there was that smell of herbs, leather, and pipeweed, one that you could recognize even with your eyes closed.

“So very beautiful…” you whispered, touching the glistening crystal with your fingers.

“Very…” added Aragorn, but his eyes were set on your face. You swallowed.

“I will wear it every day with pride.” You heard yourself say. “But it will not remind me of you because I will be by your side.”

“But… My lady, the journey ahead of me is full of danger, I cannot…” He began, taking your hand in his.

“We have survived quite a few dangerous situations together, haven’t we? I believe we will survive a few more,” you smiled at him, finding golden sparks of sun among the grey clouds of Aragorn’s eyes.

“I believe we will,” your Ranger agreed and you knew that at dawn, you would be riding out from Imladris together.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💙

➳➳➳ Here's the HUGE Celebration Masterlist! 💎

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

#lathalea's huge follower celebration #lotr #aragorn #fic request #aragorn x reader #lotr fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #the lord of the rings

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oatmealcraisin · 6 months ago

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Childhood Tales

Art by me here, fic written by the wonderful Aprilertuile!!

Author: @aprilertuileviresse Artist: @oatmealcraisin

Rating: G Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Nerdanel, Fëanor Relationships: Maedhros & Maglor, Nerdanel & Fëanor Warnings: no archive warnings apply Wordcount: 6.3k

Tales of Maglor and Maedhros, as children in Valinor, during the years of the trees.

I loved this idea of young Maedhros and Maglor, and my author did such an awesome job capturing the feel of being kids!!!

@tolkienrsb

#sillmarillion #silm art #tolkien fanart #tolkien fanfiction #trsb24 #trsb2024 #tolkien reverse summer bang #maglor #maedhros #feanor #nerdanel #promo post

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ambitiouspotions · 1 month ago

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BERRIES | ARAGORN SON OF ARATHORN | ONESHOT

summary — aragorn finds it pleasing when his elven wife, y/n, eats berries

word count — 2.0k

warnings — 18+ MDNI, smut

author’s note — yes, i got that idea from my headcanons in my head and RAN with it /: sorry not sorry

“i still remember the moment i first laid my eyes upon you,” aragorn said, his chin brushing against the elf’s jawline as he spoke. her entire body tingled feeling the short beard sweeping into contact with her. “you have changed, yet stayed perfectly the same.” his hand was full of blackberries, occasionally offering one to her lips as he spoke.

y/n was lying on her back, propped up by her elbows to keep consuming the delicious fruit she was provided. every time his palm was empty he would dive into the woven basket to collect more. he had gathered them while she scrubbed their clothing against a rock in the creek. they had stripped their clothing the moment they had gotten to the clearing so the elf could begin her tedious laundering process.

their clothing now hung on a low branch of a tree, swaying with the wind as it passed through the clearing. it was a favorite spot among both of them due to its quiet and secluded nature.

the palms of his hands were splotchy with a dark purple-magenta color. his fingertips absorbed most of the berry juice but the rest of his working hands weren’t immune to the color. his many calluses, scars, the cracks in his knuckles, and even the lines of his palms held the stains from the sweet fruit.

“and you,” y/n started, trying to gather her words to articulate them as beautifully as aragorn. “you have managed a steadfast love that i never believed to be true until you made it so.”

his stained hands now cupped her chin, holding a smirk proudly on his face.

“all other loves are fallacies,” aragorn now leaning closer, his breath hitting her lips as he spoke. he did a slow look from her lips to her eyes, letting himself collect every detail. “they would never love you the way i do.”

y/n paused, her heart only beating faster. she couldn’t count the number of times he had given her that very look. though that look was responsible for her pleasure each time he flashed it. those grey eyes, so warm and inviting, though they were the same color as the lifeless and brutal mountains of the north.

the summer breeze was refreshing as they laid on a tattered blanket that had been taken with them on many of their walks to the creekside. the babbling and stirring of the water mixed with the windy rattle of the tree branches proved to be calming for the couple. their bodies lounging under the canopy of tree branches, letting just enough light in and providing a fair amount of shade to escape the summer heat.

aragorn pushed another berry into the elf’s mouth. he studied her more as she ingested the berry. her eyes were fixed on him, awaiting his next movement. he pushed a berry into his own mouth; his eyes never leaving her’s. he leaned forward, closing the gap between their lips. the berries that were in his hand dropped back into the basket so he could have more control over her body. he held the back of her head as he kissed her, releasing the grip from her chin and moving it to her waist.

the berry juice from both of their mouths mixing and spilling out as she gasped from the sudden connection. he took his thumb and wiped the corner of her mouth. his forehead rested on hers as his hands managed to find another place on her naked body to rest. intentional, every single brush of his fingers and the amount of pressure he used to grab her.

he laid her against the blanket, resting his hands on either side of her now. he was resting on his knees, looking down at the beauty before him. she tried to move a hand to his chest, but he intercepted it, beginning to kiss each of her fingertips and down the palm of her hand, stopping at her wrist. he guided it down to her heat, making her squirm just enough to provide a new desire within him.

he looked to the basket of berries and then to his elven jewel. a thought piqued his interest, and she saw it too. planning and innovating a new idea to make her satisfied. aragorn’s head dipped to her neck, licking columns. though the real enjoyment came when he reached for a berry and crushed it in his fingers to spread it on the areas he had saturated just previously.

he smirked at the creation of the juice running down her skin, making it a challenge to catch any stray juice that was falling. y/n mouth was agape as he continued to make an overwhelming amount of desire run over her body. her hand was stationary in between her legs, feeling the wetness grow into more of an issue, but not bothering to insert her own fingers, only wishing for aragorn to insert his.

she let out a desperate whine, trying to reach for his chest again as he rose from her neck. he still wasn’t allowing it. he placed her hand back in its position and guided her fingers inside of herself, watching them become engulfed in the sweet wetness she provided herself with. it was not scratching the itch she most desired, only making her more desperate. he pulled one of her knees up, allowing her fingers to go deeper. her cheeks were flushed, though she wished she could blame it on the summer day it was because he made her crumble under his every movement.

aragorn was enjoying the sight. her fingers curled in and out of herself as she spilled a slurry of moans and pleads. though aragorn was not willing to give in so easily, he wanted her to become even more vulnerable and helpless as every second passed.

his stained hand held her face again, halting her moans as she focused on him. he pushed another blackberry into her mouth. as she chewed her jaw went slack feeling his free hand guide her fingers inside of her again. her stomach caved in slightly as one of his fingers joined hers.

her head tried to turn to the side, but he kept her gaze focused on him.

“is it too much?” he asked softly, his voice laced with lust rather than concern.

“no,” y/n managed to breathe out. his fingers loosened around her face as she swallowed the berry. he tilted her chin higher, her soft breaths aching for more. his eyes caught a glimpse of her berry-stained tongue.

he took his finger from her cunt and offered it to her parted lips. her eyes were wide with surprise as it entered her mouth. his furthest knuckle scraped past her teeth as she lightly gagged on the digit.

he was pleased watching her taste her arousal. her hands held his wrist as he continued to use her mouth to clean his finger from her wetness. he only stopped when her whines turned louder, the creek’s babbling being drowned out by her need for him.

he pushed his hand through her hair, putting a few strands behind her ear to have a mostly unobstructed view. it was like he was debating his next move while finding an easy way to focus all of his attention on the elf. his mind was frenzied although he wouldn’t reveal it to her. it took immense amounts of self-control not to rush with her, even though he was quietly begging for her.

his erection, on the other hand, was not quietly begging. it was fully stiff and in need of the elf’s deliciously tight walls around him.

aragorn sat back, collecting the elf into his lap and letting out a low and unsteady groan as she slid down onto his shaft. his eyes were closed tightly until he felt her forehead rest against his. she wasn't fully seated before aragorn’s hips picked up trying to force more of his length inside of her cunt.

y/n’s lips were hungrily pressed against her betrothed and choked out indigent moans. her attempt at kissing him was poor until he reciprocated, guiding her back to a stable motion.

she was attempting to control the bounce on aragorn’s lap, but he slowed her pace, wanting to focus on her pleasure more than her working for his own orgasm.

he grasped her lower back with one hand, the other beginning to stimulate her nipples. she was impatiently grinding against him, trying to coax him out of his trance with her body. he only pulled her closer, his head lingering by her exposed ear.

“why must you rush me, meleth nín?” aragorn’s words made her tingle. her pointed ear rested against his lips after he placed a gentle kiss on her tragus.

“i cannot wait any longer,” she spoke softly, though the end of her sentence had a whine buried deep within the word. his cock was solid inside of her, occasionally twitching from the overwhelming feeling of warmth and the secure hold her walls provided.

“please,” she breathed out, her words hitting his shoulder.

aragorn did feel sympathy for the she-elf sitting so full upon his lap. her face now buried in his neck as his hands grasped her hips for stability as he began his upward thrusts.

the sweat against their bare bodies caused a bit of sticking as he continued to pound into her heat. she had her hand locked around her wrist tightly, not wanting his forceful movements to disconnect her from his neck. her head was tilted to the side, her cheek resting on shoulder limply as he pounded into her.

aragorn was panting heavily with every inch that was covered in her wet walls, each time he would reach her cervix he was inching closer, but did not want to give in just yet. his sweet elf was clearly enjoying herself, but not enough for his liking.

he held her tightly as he laid back, now able to see her opening as he continued his thrusts. he licked his berry-stained fingertips, now stimulating her clit with circular motions.

she gasped loudly at the sudden feeling, aching for more as she bounced unsteadily on his length. her thighs were shaking she she continued to be jolted by the man underneath her.

aragorn’s head was back as he praised the elven beauty sitting upon him. his voice was low and lustful as his movements only became more erratic. it was difficult to concentrate as y/n kept allowing his name to spill from her lips. her back was arching, her nails digging into his shoulder.

aragorn couldn't hold on for much longer. though as his cock swelled with more arousal that was when y/n moaned louder than previously. her eyes fluttered to the back of her head as she tried to keep a conscious mind trying not to cause painful marks on her beloved. it was so easy to unwind while he was inside of her. his tight grip on her only made her achieve a greater sense of satisfaction.

as her whines and moans became more spaced out aragorn could finally release. his head dipped into his chest during his final thrusts, kissing her collarbone gently as he slowed his movements.

they laid on the tattered blanket as they were before their marital affairs. aragorn still pushing berries into her mouth as she stared into his eyes. he was more reassuring than before, his touches even more delicate, and his gaze was thoughtful and sweet. he appreciated every inch of the woman lying next to him.

“meleth nín, how is your appetite for berries more insatiable than your appetite for me?” aragorn questioned, placing a kiss against her forehead.

“you are more satisfying.” y/n said, her eyes closing from the kiss.

it was hours before they moved and redressed. they only wanted to enjoy each other, though y/n would not deny any of the fresh berries that were offered to her by aragorn.

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