#TolkienFanfiction

[thewulf]

Hii hope you're having a good day, is it okay if I request a Legolas x reader where reader is Gandalf's granddaughter and joined the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring? They both slowly fell in love with each other along the way and when the incident in Moria happened where Gandalf dies, Legolas comforts her.

No pressure at all for this request and it's also okay if you don't want to do it, thank you!

You most certainly can! This is a wonderful request. You guys are crushing it with the LOTR requests :) big angst but sweet elf!

[burntsecrets]

favorite crime

Pairing: Galadriel x Halbrand x Sauron

Word Count: 1267

Prompt: I thought of this story idea while driving home and listening to “Favorite Crime” by Olivia Rodrigo.

Summary: Galadriel grapples with accepting Halbrand's true identity as Sauron and the fact that everything between them was a lie. Or was it? 

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2, betrayal, emotional manipulation, psychological trauma, self-blame, heartbreak, implied violence, fall from height, grief, identity deception, toxic relationships, existential crisis, power dynamics, introspection on trust and betrayal, disillusionment

The storm had not yet passed when Galadriel stood alone on the cliff's edge, her golden hair whipped by the winds that howled like wraiths. Below, the sea churned and frothed, dark and unforgiving as the memories that haunted her. She had once found solace in these waters, but now they only served as a reminder of what had been lost—and what had been betrayed.

Halbrand.

No—Sauron.

The name was a blade that cut deeper than any sword. She had known him under the guise of a king, a broken man seeking redemption, just as she had sought her own. Together, they had formed an unspoken bond, forged in the fires of battle and tempered in shared ambition. They had walked side by side, the weight of destiny heavy on their shoulders, and in those moments, Galadriel had allowed herself to hope—to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be peace.

She had let herself hope—truly hope—for the first time in an age. He had seemed different, a kindred soul bound by loss and a desire to set the world right. He had been a warrior at her side, the strength she had leaned on when her own faltered. They had stood as equals—or so she had believed.

She remembers the moment after the battle when the dust had yet to settle, and the skies above were still blackened with smoke. Their victory had been hard-fought, their enemies defeated, and for one brief, fragile moment, she had allowed herself to feel something other than her endless drive for vengeance. 

Halbrand had looked at her then, his eyes searching hers with a kind of intensity that made her chest tighten. “What we did today,” he had said, his voice rough, ragged with the weariness of battle, but also something more. “Fighting side by side with you... I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never felt more alive.”

His words had struck something deep within her, something buried beneath layers of grief and anger. It was the same for her. In that moment, with him, she had felt alive too—more than she had in centuries. She had wanted to tell him then, to put words to the storm of emotions that had swirled between them. And she had. Against all her better judgment, she had whispered, “I felt it too.” And she had felt it too—the connection, the spark, the fire that had burned between them.

But that hope had been a lie. He had been a lie.

A lie he had wrapped around her, like chains forged from her own longing. He had let her believe they were fighting the same battle, for the same cause. He had let her believe that he was someone worth saving, someone who could be redeemed. 

But the man she had fought beside wasn’t real. He was a mask, a deception so carefully crafted that even she, with all her wisdom, had been fooled.

She closes her eyes against the stinging wind, but it cannot shield her from the memories. The feel of his hand gripping hers as they sailed to Númenor, the way he had stood at her side in council, his presence a quiet strength she had come to depend on. She had been a willing accomplice, trusted him with parts of herself she had sworn to keep hidden. She had let him into her heart, her mind—had let him believe that he could be something other than what he truly was. She had given him the power to hurt her, and he had done so without hesitation.

It had been foolish, a weakness she could not afford. And now, she paid the price.

Her heart pounds as the memory of their last confrontation resurfaces. The way his true nature had unfurled before her like a storm cloud on the horizon. His face—the last thing she saw before she fell— eyes wide, lips parted in shock. She had thought, for a fleeting moment, that he was reaching for her. But as the bitter truth sank in, she knew better. He wasn’t reaching for her. He was reaching for the ring clutched in her hand.

She remembers falling, the cold air biting at her skin, her body hurtling toward the churning sea below. The storm above her, the chaos in her mind, all of it blurred together as she clung to the one truth that shattered her: Halbrand was an illusion, and Sauron had been there all along.

And yet... she had let him in.

How could I have been so blind?

She hits the ground harder than she expected, her body shuddering on impact, but it’s the pain in her heart that sears the most. When her eyes flutter open, the storm still rages above, the wind howling, and yet, there is a moment of quiet within her—a cold, sinking realization. Sauron hadn’t been reaching for her. He was reaching for the power she held, the power that could tip the balance of Middle-earth into darkness. He had used her as he had used everyone.

She sits up, her fingers still gripping the ring, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The ache inside her chest is heavy, and yet, the betrayal has sharpened her, hardened her. She had fallen for his lies, for his false promises, for the man she thought he could be.

But now, all she feels is a hollow emptiness where hope once resided.

The sea roars beneath her, and she rises on trembling legs, her gaze locking on the horizon. She wonders, not for the first time if he had ever truly cared. If the betrayal was hers alone to bear. Did he regret it? Did he feel anything for her at all?

The answer comes to her with a cold clarity. No. Sauron felt nothing but the insatiable hunger for power, and she had been a pawn in his game. Her loyalty, her trust—he had used them against her, twisted them to his will, until she had crossed lines she swore she never would. She had defended him when she should have walked away, stood by his side when others saw the truth she had refused to see.

Her loyalty had been unwavering. And for what?

For this moment—standing at the edge of the world, the taste of betrayal bitter on her tongue and the knowledge that she had loved the lie he had spun so masterfully.

Even now, as the storm echoes around her, she cannot fully shake the connection they had shared. It lingers, like a shadow, whispering in the back of her mind—a bond built on lies, but real enough to hurt, real enough to scar. Despite everything, despite the betrayal that had cut so deep, she had loved him—loved the man she thought he was. And worse, part of her still does. 

“How foolish I have been,” she thinks, the wind tugging at her as if it wants to pull her into the sea. But she will not let it claim her. No, not yet. Sauron may have left her broken, but she would not remain that way.

She had fought for him once, fought for the man he had pretended to be. Now, she would fight against him. Because despite everything, despite the lies, she would undo the darkness he had left in his wake.

The storm rages on, and so does she.

But even now, as she walks away from the cliff’s edge, there’s a part of her that knows the truth—the cruelest truth of all.

She had been his favorite crime.

And worse still, he had been hers.

[ten-summoners-fails]

Things this chapter has:

Curufin and Thingol bonding over a shared dislike of Eöl

Celegorm doing Orome Things TM

Grief, grief and more grief

People keeping their word, but you wish they wouldn't

So many description of forests, the Professor would be proud

"ThIS i pROmIsE to YoU, ElWe sINgoLLo"

No one finding anything in Doriath, like, ever

Silmarils? Huh? What Silmarils?

Lo and behold: the Doriath part of the story. I thought I'd hate it, but I wish it wasn't over.

[thewarriorandtheking]

Thanks to all who are following, glad you are enjoying my little story! For those that are wondering, there will be a Book 2 after a short break...Stay tuned. It is also available to read on AO3, the version posted there does have some R-rated content, please enjoy responsibly...

[tolkienfanfics]

First things first, happy new year! 😄 To start the year in a good way, Tolkien FanFiction group (https://m.facebook.com/groups/TolkienFanfiction/) is organising Crossover January! Does anyone have any good recs for us where Harry Potter characters end up in Middle-earth or the other way around? Please send them over!

[iamjaynaemarie]

thranduilwithisilrielmoment by Jaynae Miller Via Flickr: Isílriel Elenáre has an early morning moment with her father, Thranduil. Isílriel is found in the alternate version when Thranduil's wife, Êlúriel (Nenluin) survives the orc attack and gives birth to her. She is the youngest of their three children, Tarthôn (foster son), Legolas and Isílriel in the formally named alternate ending (now Extended Version or Ext.).

Little Isílriel Elenáre Thranduiliel (daughter of Thranduil) got her first big bad popular salute--166 views on Flikr. She is her father’s daughter, Ada’s Little Girl.

[shamefuldispleasure]

I don't need these but I want them. #tolkien #tolkienfanfiction #mylifeasanadult

[ten-summoners-fails]

Tyelcano’s blade was pointing to his heart, mere inches away from his chest. His eyes, bright and terrible, bore into his; and his voice was heavy with grief when he spoke. “Do not make me do this, I beg you.” “You would never,” said Laurefindil. “I already have,” said Tyelcano, “and if you force my hand, I shall never forgive you for it.” “You, on the other hand, are already forgiven.” “Cease this!” His friend all but shouted at him; but the blade did not move an inch. “Step aside, Laurefindil, and tell your King that I cornered you. That I was too quick. That you never thought I would betray you so. Hate my memory, if you have to; but let me go before something unspeakable comes to pass.” Laurefindil did not lower his gaze. “If you want this to become an unnecessarily perilous and irresponsible sparring match,” he said, “then so it shall become.” And he drew his blade as well; and their weapons sang a song of ice and fury as they clashed against each other. Laurefindil lost his balance, then found it, then lost it again as they danced their dangerous dance along the edge of the Caragdûr; always hungry and always watching, like a giant, lidless eye. After a time, Laurefindil’s every move felt slowed down and dulled, restrained by the cold. The pressure of his chainmail was uncomfortable against his back, and every clash of the two blades reverberated through his bones; for these were no training strikes, but a real duel with sharpened weapons, wielded with force and will. It was nothing like sparring; it was something terrible, and unnatural, and addictive, in the worst way possible. So they danced for a long time; sometimes closer, sometimes further away from each other, the depts of the abyss an ever-looming threat behind them, or in front of them, and sometimes, on their sides. And then came a moment when Laurefindil’s blade slid down against Tyelcano’s, their swords touching just above the hilt; and their momentum pulled them close, their faces less then an inch away from each other. “I do not wish to fight you, my friend,” said Tyelcano quietly. “Then don’t.” Laurefindil’s mouth pressed into a thin line of concentration and pain. “Put down your sword, and I shall put down mine; and we shall go, and wake Anardil, and drink him out of his tea. He has a song for you.” “I know you want to save everyone, but you cannot. Not me. Not this time. My dreams have spoken, and I have to go.”

My sincere thanks to, and deep admiration for 2fewbookshelves for this absolutely wonderful illustration of my fic <3

>> The Seven Gates, Chapter 34: Blood on the Snow <<

Also available: Chapter 35: The Third Betrayal

[ten-summoners-fails]

Some lost pages from 'The Seven Gates': Amrod and Amras meet Beleg and Mablung. What could go wrong?

[ten-summoners-fails]

Another chapter, because I’m trying to write/ edit as much as I can, as fast as I can. LOL

About this fic: Union of Maedhros; Nirnaeth; Gondolin sideplot; canon-compliant with a few additions and twists

In this chapter: Counsellor Tyelcano excels in politics, and learns an important truth about Fingolfin's sons.

Now Also Featuring: 

"A high stakes game of hide-and-seek between two kings" 

The Good Old Family Feud (Jealousy Edition)  

The concept of "unrequited friendship" is introduced by Master Anardil, One-Time Small Council Member and Perpetual Nuisance

Everyone “being enamoured by Nelyafinwe”

Enjoy! <3

[ten-summoners-fails]

aaand another quick painting(ish) thing for my WIP, The Seven Gates ^^

[ten-summoners-fails]

Maedhros, Caranthir and the Himring ; a quick painting for the next chapter of my WIP, The Seven Gates .

[ten-summoners-fails]

Maedhros frowned. “You have something on your mind.” His cousin nudged him with his elbow as if they were still children, hiding from their parents and duties. “Most incredible. Does that ever happen to you?” Maedhros watched as the remains of the old Western Tower gave in to the flames, and collapsed in a cacophony of rock and soot-smelling debris, then turned his head. “Either you can tell me,” he said, “or you can go on suffering, but with less theatrics.” “It was only a fleeting thought,” said Fingon lightly. “And, contrary to your lute-related ambitions, it was selfish.” “You have always known how to make me curious.” They waited in silence for a while. “So?” said Maedhros softly. “That thought has now been fleeting for a while, you know. Stiff and unyielding, like a grudge.” “Perhaps it is a grudge,” said Fingon. Maedhros stared into the flames. The smoke made his eyes water. “You are incapable of holding one.” “So I have thought, until the Flames.”

New chapter starring: a Most Irresponsible Orc-Hunt, Fingon’s Grudge, Fire and Smoke, The Gratuitous Use of the Word ‘Debris’, and a Cruel Cliffhanger Ending. Enjoy!

Read on Fanfiction.net // Ao3

[ten-summoners-fails]

My contribution to @gondolinweek , day 5

Being,

1,3k words of Pengolodh’s Overthinking (and me realizing I ADORE his POV, but no, we CANNOT have more POV-s in The Seven Gates, we just CANNOT...)

and... I’m not crying, you’re crying!:(

[ten-summoners-fails]

The Seven Gates, Chapter 28 - The Wrath of Maedhros

“Caranthir swallowed. “You know, I used to think that Moringotto’s biggest enemies were the Valar; and that it was the tragedy of our lives that they would do naught against his malice. And I was wrong. It is not the wrath of Manwë Moringotto should fear, Nelyo, but yours.”

“You do not know what you speak of,” said Maedhros sharply. He got on his feet and dusted his cloak off, carefully avoiding his brother’s eyes. “None of you know.”

“Here it comes again,” Caranthir sighed. “The spree of false modesty. Our Father got rash and fearless in his brilliance, and you think that beyond your naturally earth-bound way of thinking, you must as well learn the additional humility that could have saved him. Do not lie to my face! I stood with you in the Flames, Nelyo, as did Tyelcano and the rest of your household. We saw you save what could be saved of Beleriand. We all know what you are capable of; pity enough that you keep forgetting it yourself!”

Read more on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net

[ten-summoners-fails]

My contribution to @gondolinweek day 7

Being,

Glorfindel's corrections of the events in Chapter 2.

Apparently, Ecthelion lied to you! :D