#after some time... some thoughts on the ROP ending.

[lopposting]

So, I have some mixed feelings about the Rise ending. I don't know, it's complicated. At the centre of the game seems to lie a father-son relationship and the lengths of approval. You are "punished", in a sense, if you decide to hand your heart to your father. But it does still technically "reward" you with approval in the good ending with his acknowledgement. I thought it would've been really interesting if Geppetto says the exact same thing as the Free from the puppet string ending ("I knew it, you're just a useless puppet") in the Rise ending, but in a different tone.

[I know this is a complicated subject, and I'm sure that many people may have some personal perspectives on this, but I hope people get what I'm trying to get at]

But after some time, I think that the apology is not really for the audience, it's for P. The apology is a worthy inclusion, not because Geppetto needs to be redeemed, but because without it, the only "wrong" option is to seek his approval. Maybe his acceptance isn't the "right" thing to want, or what we "should" want [I don't mean in a moral way] - but Pino isn't wrong for wanting it.

Or maybe he is, I don't know. But I think, despite everything - it's still what Pino wanted. and I think it does provide him with a bit more closure and peace than something else. (And it can do this while also not portraying it as the "healthiest" thing to want.)

And I think that's what they're showing us with the extra shot of him looking over the balcony. There's no other purpose of this scene [I mean other than establishing the next scene for the audience], and In his reality, it would've been completely silent. He's just looking at the view. Not even listening to music. And then he finally goes to sleep.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

--

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

--

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

--

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

--

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

--

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[everlusts]

my personal review diary with my first thoughts no filter (to no one’s care)

cons:

did not vibe with the ending that much cause this isn’t the avengers we are this close to “galadriel go right elrond to my left 123 we are rings of power!” and well.

the rings just randomly being able to fall out was so stupid amazon do better

hot take but i dont even mind that the fight didnt focus much on the ‘ship’ aspect per se but because it kinda erased the nuance + dynamics haladriel had in relation to s1, watering it down to some 2d caricature ultimate hero vs villain fight written @ 2am

them separating in s3 makes sense but after this season im not convinced the writers know how to make it work properly

im just being salty now but the fight was badly done imo you can’t keep saying shit like “he knows her mind she desires-“ blah blah in interviews, that has to be translated yk

i wish they spent less time reusing dialogue or using references so blatantly when they can’t even work w show material well enough

pros:

HALADRIEL ROMANCE CONFIRMED “not all of it” IK WHAT U ARE SAURON

galadriel freezing after halbrand from temu appears im hollering girl i miss him too dont worry

dead dove saurondriel has never been more alive i bless all the fic writers and i will be there for every single one of them

evil narc sauron was still good food tbh im glad he wanted to stabby stab in glam

liked how they handled adar rip king u will be missed ur aura was unmatched

final thoughts: s1 rop u were a gem we all took for granted time to lock in on ao3

(also babygirl is releasing dec 25 if you want to see haladriel done right!!)

[carmillas-vampiric-rage]

Several Círdan Headcanons | Círdan the Shipwright TROP

⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡

in my rop era again, and I'm just here to say I've claimed círdan as my lover. idk what the rest of you are up to.

⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡

he calls you "my dear" or "my cherished" at like all given times. day and night. sometimes one after the other. like can you imagine his low and serene voice saying something like that to you?? i would d i e

loves to caress your face gently as the two of you watch the water. he feels like he can never be close enough to you.

prays to the valar every single day you won't leave for the west until he is also able to go with you, though he would never -in a thousand years- try and stop you from going to valinor if you wanted to. he loves you too much.

he's kind of a little shit. a menace. I feel like we can agree that being alive as long as this silver fox means you gotta find some ways to entertain yourself. loves how flustered you get when he starts completing your beauty. continues to do it til you cover your blushing face and scream in embarrassment.

in for the long-con and will start to leave things such as tiny seashells around your things, side of the bed, your desk, clothes, etc. until you begin to notice and get confused. once the obvious places are complete he gets even more creative. if you bring up how befuddled you are at how tiny seashells keep ending up in your shoes every morning he will be just as befuddled as you are. it took him a month and a half to finally reveal his evil deeds and you smacked him in the arm for exactly two hours. you thought you were losing your mind.

⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡

going to be thinking of more romantic headcanons for círdan. he's literally taken over all thoughts i poses and i must comply. umm, anyway, thanks for listening to me ramble.

[hurricanek8art]

I have been brought out of lurk mode by the Rings of Power finale on behalf of my brother, resident Tolkien fanatic, because he thinks he's figured out who Adar might be.

Maeglin.

And before you say "but Kate, he died at Gondolin", keep in mind that RoP is playing around with some of the timeline and hear us out. Spoilers for the Rings of Power S2 finale, I guess? The Silmarillion, and a big ol' wall of text under the cut. I don't call my personal tags "K8 Rambles about [X]" for nothing.

Per the Tolkien Gateway wiki, because I like citations with my fandom conspiracy theories; bolded parts are most relevent:

"Maeglin defied Turgon's order to stay within the mountains, and was captured by Orcs and brought to Angbad. Morgoth promised both Gondolin and Idril in return for the location of the hidden city, thus luring Maeglin into the greatest treachery done in the Elder Days.

Maeglin returned to Gondolin saying nothing about his encounter, but many people noticed a change. Most thought it was for the better, though Idril suspected something and began work on Idril's secret way. When the Fall of Gondolin took place, Maeglin laid hands on Idril and on her son Eärendil. But Tuor caught up with him and they fought upon the walls of the city. Maeglin lost and he was thrown down to his death, striking the mountain three times before falling into the flames."

His father Eöl left Thingol's kingdom after Melian raised enchanted fences around the forest of Doriath, so Maeglin would've grown up at least knowing of Melian. He would have learned Fëanorian Quenya in Gondolin as the king's nephew, as well as studied the teachings of Rúmil. Further, Eöl was an expert smith who was one of the only people who knew how to work with galvorn, a jet-black metal—the only other person who knew how to work with it was Maeglin. We've never seen Adar wear anything but pitch-black armor with a rather unique-looking texture.

So, we have a dark-haired Elf with obsessive tendencies that turned on his people on behalf of Morgoth, covered in what looks like burn scars along with the Uruk-ing, wearing fancy, unique black armor. That big ol' gauntlet he's always wearing could easily be explained as protecting a hand that got messed up in the fall, that namedrops Melian and Rúmil. Turgon and Finrod knew each other before they split and Turgon founded Gondolin, so Turgon could potentially have learned Galadriel's Quenya name and mentioned it in passing to Maeglin, and it would be another explanation for how he recognized Elrond right off the bat, since he was related to Elrond's father, grandparents and great-grandfather. It's not impossible to believe that in this version of the tale, Maeglin somehow survives the fall, returns to Morgoth and Sauron, and gets Uruk-ified. And, I mean, Nenya was shown healing fatal wounds and cleansing Adar's Uruk corruption, it's even less of a stretch to think that Nenya somehow healed him of being... well, an obsessive, vindictive and incestuous jerk. Or at least made himself really look inwards and see the evil within.

Again, I'm more of a cinematic Tolkien nerd than literary (I've tried a bunch of times and succeeded in reading The Hobbit, but my brain just... fritzes out at Tolkien prose for some reason. I need cliff notes Tolkien 😭😭😭😭😭), so if you have any questions or points to discuss I'm probably just gonna end up relaying what my brother says. He refuses to join Tumblr and only likes social media for the fanart and the silly pet videos. I feel like a court scribe. 🤣

[thefollow-spot]

hello you're the resident silmarillion fan out of my following list so I'm curious, how bad do you think the Rings of Power is as a Tolkien-world story compared to what was actually written in the book? Like, i get the feeling that the story is the kind of adaptation that would stand up really well on its own as a story if it weren't related to the source material at all?

I started the book (and by that I mean first chapter) years ago and never got to finish it, but i've been meaning to do it after seeing you reblog things about the story. I only saw like three episodes of TROP season two as my father (LOTR fan) watched it and i was laying on his couch sick, and he mentioned that he likes the way the story expands on some things such as how the rings came into being, he says that the book didn't really do that. But I've seen some people say that the show really deviates from the book almost to the point of scoffing at Tolkien's established world and plots. So, I think it's likely that i will watch the show and read the book at some point in time, but i wanted to know, is this a case in which i absolutely must read the book first before the show ruins it, and if so how hard do i need to hold onto my hat?

Hello!! I’m so flattered that I’m your resident Silmarillion fan, even though I’m sure there are more Qualified™️ Tolkien fans on this hellsite <3 And THANK YOU for asking me this; I would LOVE to share my thoughts! Full-disclosure: I’m a self-proclaimed recreational Rings of Power hater. Of course, none of this is really that serious and I bear no ill-will towards fans of the show + hope anyone who likes RoP is out there having the best time, but hating on The Rings of Power is like candy to me so I’m going to be sooo mean about it <3

The short answers are: IMO, Rings of Power is a blatant cash-grab, which reveals itself in every structural choice. It’s an abysmal adaptation, and I personally find it to be an uncompelling piece of original fantasy. I would 100% recommend you read The Silmarillion in general, and definitely before watching RoP!

As someone who loves The Silmarillion, please please please give the book another try, I am begging you!! If you absolutely must only read the relevant sections to RoP, “Akallabêth” and onward + the appendices to The Lord of the Rings are all you need (but you’ll be lacking some really compelling context). The Silmarillion is a book where you get out of it what you invest—the first time I read it, TBH I found it really dry, but the second time I read it, I absolutely fell in love.

I’m in love with Maedhros being the best of his family until he loses it all to grief; I’m in love with Fingon never forgetting how to love people despite always being left behind; I’m in love with Túrin being a damning examination of cultural alienation and queerness (even if Tolkien didn’t 100% know it). I am so so so in love with this book PLEASE try it again 😭

If you do end up watching The Rings of Power first, I feel I need to emphasize a non-exhaustive list of things to keep in mind:

RoP does Elrond a disservice by erasing his past as a child of war

RoP does Gil-galad a disservice of sidelining him when he should be a main character

RoP does Celebrimbor a disservice by depicting him as a stuffy older academic instead of as an ambitious artist clawing for esteem in the shadow of his bloodline being the most infamous noble house in Elvish history

RoP does Galadriel (and women) a disservice by aging her down several thousands of years and portraying her as emotional, unreasonable, and politically ineffectual instead of as celestial, war-sharpened, eldritchly wise, and so so so exhausted with Sauron’s bullshit

You can stop reading here, but if you want longer answers and ✨me being a recreational hater✨, it’s under the read-more:

Is The Rings of Power a good book adaptation of Tolkien’s Second Age?

No!! The Rings of Power is a financial asset owned by Amazon disguised as a television show! We can tell that the production is focused more on marketability than on artistic merit by looking at the character breakdown, plot structure, lore, and themes:

Tolkien’s works are vast in scope, therefore every age of Middle-earth has its own set of key players; a Second Age story should focus on Celebrimbor and Gil-galad, but RoP focuses on Elrond and Galadriel for no reason but name recognition (RoP producers, probably: “No casual LotR fan is gonna watch a show about a cast of randos they don’t know!”). As a result, they are NOT telling the story from the book(s) because they’ve pointed the camera away from the people who are actually doing anything in canon! They are making up plot and lore because the canon plot is unprofitable!!

The showrunners are adamant to give the Second Age the same thematic wash as Peter Jackson’s Third Age story even though the two periods are completely different (they go on and on in interviews and marketing material about it needing to feel like “Tolkien” but what they really mean is, ‘like the successful fantasy media franchise we’re corpse-robbing for nostalgia money’). The Second Age is a transitional period—the Third Age is practically post-apocalyptic. But these writers cannot do thematic textual interpretation beyond beating the Lord of the Rings movies to death and dragging its corpse around… which is actually a win for Amazon because woohoo, that makes these poor fuckers marketable!

If Amazon hired anyone who actually cared about the Second Age, they would have a less familiar property, therefore a difficult-to-market product; a Second Age story written by people who care about the Second Age would feel thematically different from the name they’re trying to capitalize on. I cannot stress enough how disappointing Rings of Power is as an adaptation of one of the most compelling and underexplored periods of Middle-earth history.

Is The Rings of Power a good fantasy TV show?

IMO, no! Because the producers greenlit a show written by two writers who are utterly incapable of doing their own thematic reading, the resulting product is what you get when you throw money at people with no artistic vision. I say this as someone who believes 100% in the value of poorly-crafted TV: I find Rings of Power to be tonally and structurally confused, inescapably derivative, and over-reliant on clichés. Maybe this is just because, as someone who knows anything about the Second Age, it also actively punishes me for knowing what I do but anywayyy.

They jammed a ‘whodunnit mystery’ format onto a fantasy epic, and write dialogue scenes with no stakes and little charm. The world is often lacking in whimsy or gravitas due to their CGI sets and underbudgeted costumes and hair design (RIP to the costume designer Kate Hawley, she’s done some fantastic stuff on productions that give her respect and resources). And every single person talks like Kilgharrah (RIP to the actors who are all putting in a valiant, earnest effort with the under-edited material and poor direction they’re being given). They advertised the show on diversity, yet underwrite their OCs of colour and disrespect their female characters. The best part of Season 1 was when Halbrand almost took his shirt off in the finale, but he didn’t even take his shirt off all the way so that was the worst disappointment of all 😔

Re: how the rings of power were made & does the show scoff at Tolkien’s lore?

It’s true that (at least according to the books I’ve read), there are no in-depth descriptions of the magic or silversmithing techniques used in the forging of the rings of power (but this is unsurprising, given that Tolkien’s magic system is soft-magic rather than hard-magic). In The Silmarillion and in the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, the important part isn’t so much how the rings were made, but why—the political circumstances surrounding their forging. I think it’s evidence that the writers don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing that they’ve focused on the mechanics of smithing rather than the seduction of Celebrimbor.

The Rings of Power does more than scoff at Tolkien’s established world and plots—what it does is treat Tolkien’s writings as an outdated hindrance to their goal of telling the clumsiest, self-aggrandizing, resumé-padding television story known to modern audiences.

Okay, okay—I'll shut up now <3

As you can tell, I am unhinged about this topic LOL!! I hope I’ve answered your question, and if you DO decide to watch Rings of Power, I hope you have a better time than I did and wish you all my best <3 I’ll just be over here in the corner shaking my fist in RoP’s general direction, for enrichment 😌✌️

[elrondapologist]

RoP season 2 episode 5

Thoughts and opinions, because I have nowhere else to ramble about it Heavy spoilers below the cut ofc

Oh so, so we came back to Annatar and Celebrimbor, didn't we? And we begin to see the cracks! The end of the episode was heartbreaking; it is already easy to see the results of Annatar's manipulations and how it takes its toll on Celebrimbor. The poor elf just wanted to make a cute arts and crafts project (~~better than any made before~~) and now his "best friend" NOT ONLY outwards lies to him about dwarven rings, but also tells his protege that it was her master who she saw in the shadow realm? WHAT? Masterful.

I love it already looks like Celebrimbor is leaning a little bit back, looking into Annatar's eyes a little unsure. I was surprised by Annatar's boldness in this episode... I expected more cute smiles and sweet words. But I suppose the main reason behind it lies in time constraints. Time constraints that are also heavily noticeable in different parts of the narration; mainly, the Numenor situation. I was kind of displeased with episode 3 for the whole plot about Numenor being so shallow; it lacked the emotional stakes for me, it felt too rushed, too sudden; we as an audience seemed to lack the appreciation of golden times of Numenor to feel moved by its potential fall. But the shrine scene, if I catch you shrine scene

That was a moment when suddenly I became invested in the Numenorian plot; mostly because of the beautiful portrayal of Elendil by Lloyd Owen, but also because suddenly with the Valandil situation the whole thing became personal. It was actually surprisingly great. I am still of the opinion that this whole coup piece of plot would oh so benefit from being written a little more subtly (the motivations behind it were really hardly developed), but as for what we have in this adaptation, I loved this scene. Although I screamed with Elendil at my screen for Valandil to choose differently. AND NOW ELENDIL WILL THINK IT WAS BECAUSE OF HIS ORDER HIS SON'S BFF HE HIMSELF CALLED SON IS DEAD DEAD Captain, oh my captain The captain scene was also beautiful, because it was an exception to one thing - is it only me or this show has some serious problem with taking lordship quite… seriously? What I kinda got tired of in the plot is everyone disobeying their lords all the time; when I saw this tired face of Gil-Galad I thought he really deserves to have his scowl, it seems to be the worst position to be in Middle Earth right now: a king.

When you think everyone keeps telling you what to do and don't listen to your orders do not worry... There are like five other lords, kings and queens that have the same treatment, one queen is even I believe trapped in her tower after a coup, so it really could have been worse. The last thing about this episode: the dwarves I was kinda unnerved of how quickly the rings negatively impacted king Durin? I did not like the idea of rushing this process that much BUT I really enjoyed the explanation behind it, the idea that it is because of a direct will of Annatar and that he would gaslight Celebrimbor into thinking it was his fault. And it works! The greed and pride and deception as making the ring faulty. And the pride that keeps Celebrimbor from admitting it; the FEAR that he accidently did something not perfect, but even bad; that he may not accomplish the dream, but live the horror. (Well, Tyelpe-) The dwarves. I was to write about the dwarves! It was as always solid visually and in terms of characters, Disa is still a queen and Durin IV really needs to have his emotional Elrond back. I was trying to be upset upon the choices of king Durin, but somehow I was too happy upon him welcoming his son back to be angry. I will still regret it, I fear. 

Watcher of the deep? Also: Elrond run was epicTM

Run Elrond Run Final notes:

although as ever i have my issues with it, I loved the episode ofc

the only minus? One running Elrond scene was not enough, please, more Elrond next!!!

Annatar/Celebrimbor and dwarves plots are solid still

Numenorian plot tries his best

and as once kind of delivers

feel free to share your opinions or correct me in any way, but please let's be civil

in ao3 fashion sorry for any mistakes, I am not a native English speaker and it shows lmao

till next week, maybe? Possibly? If I have as much to say as for this episode XD

Thanks for your attention

[milli-string]

This is just a fun convo I had a long time ago. I had a close friend, and we debated what would P's life go after the Rise of P ending.

My thoughts were, after reviving Sophia, P had the potential of following Geppetto's footsteps (in a good way):

- building puppets

- probably some kind of ambassador for his kind (despite the condition of Krat, but you know what I mean)

- he can adjust his own legion arms later down the game so he has the potential to be a mechanic or engineer himself if he wanted to (may probably be necessary in some part because, well, he's immortal. He won't be having the npcs in the hotel for very long as he will outlive them all, sadly)

There's more to it, but for now, my mind spins.

Mostly because the Rise of P ending isn't really the canonical "happily ever after" like in the original story (i know the game doesn't have a canon ending yet). It is P's happily ever after becoming human emotionally and mentally, but not a "real boy" in a physical sense. The Real Boy ending would be the closest to the canon, but in a twisted way (which is absolutely genius on their part because hell yeah, dark and twisted!). I'm also aware that "Carlo" isn't quite human himself, but rather an obedient "good boy" image Geppetto wanted him to be: to kill and to listen to him at all times. (In this case, Geppetto really lost his sanity to achieve his "happy family.")

But anyway, P carrying Geppetto's legacy in his skills would be a really cool idea. I vision Pinocchio being a "father figure" of some kind to the next generation of puppets with awakened ergo; becoming someone Geppetto couldn't. The ergo he collects, he gives it away to a new body. Of course, this would take time for P to really grow his personality from being a puppet with human emotions to a fully mature person. Technically, he's still learning human emotions even after achieving the endings.

My friend's thoughts were P not going into Geppetto's footsteps, and instead he becomes an artist.

RoP Pinocchio is an expressive puppet, being able to feel and understand human emotions as he reached max humanity points. It reminded me how the artists in the fandom drew P as an artist and a musician mixed together. The more I saw it, the more I found it truly fitting for him. This separates P from Carlo and Geppetto entirely, proving that he grew his own personality and identity. (Of course, we don't know what Carlo is into but many people believe he possibly wanted to go into engineering as well, but chose the Stalker life to despise his dad).

It wouldn't make sense for P to follow Geppetto's footsteps due to P being built to literally kill puppets. Why would P care for his kind?

That's true. Why would he? But also, then again, he's still growing. I believe P hasn't fully developed yet, but only grasped the idea of being human, but not at the mature level yet, if that makes sense.

I'll have more stuff to talk about it in the future, but what do you guys think? Curious to hear your perspectives on post-Rise of P ending 🌼

[nate-fraust]

Some thoughts on Eldar marriage in regards to RoP

So, as perhaps expected, Rings of Power's second season ended with not one mention of Celeborn and yet more Haladriel/Sauriel ship-bait. I could endeavor to detail the many valid critiques and issues voiced by those creators critical of the series in regards to the characterization of both RoP!Sauron and RoP!Galadriel, but for now, I'm more interested in a little bit of exploration into Tolkien's potential thoughts and intents regarding Eldar marriage. Please take note, however, that I am of only middling understanding and comprehension of the full depth and breadth of the Professor's legendarium, and thus my analysis is barely below surface-level. This should not deduct from the importance of this post, but rather should elevate it in its intent frankness on Tolkien's perspective of the subject.

Tolkien the Catholic

As is evident by both the legendarium and the Letters, J.R.R. Tolkien was a Roman Catholic. Though many on this site may take issue with either the Catholic Church in particular or Christianity as a whole due to one reason or another, this fact of Tolkien's faith cannot be disputed. Throughout his letters, Tolkien references "Our Lady" (a reverential title bestowed upon the Virgin Mary/Mother Mary by Roman Catholics) twice, responds to or references [C.S.] Lewis 143 times, and generally espouses Christian or Roman Catholic ideals dozens, if not hundreds of times. In so doing, he makes his thoughts on marriage and divorce rather explicit.

For instance, in Letter 49 - a draft, dated 1943, of a response to Lewis regarding the idea of "'two distinct kinds of marriage': Christian marriage, which is binding and lifelong, and marriage-contracts solemnised only by the State, which make no such demands" - Tolkien writes:

Toleration of divorce – if a Christian does tolerate it – is toleration of a human abuse, which it requires special local and temporary circumstances to justify (as does the toleration of usury) – if indeed either divorce or genuine usury should be tolerated at all, as a matter merely of expedient policy.

Tolkien's stance is typical and representative of common Catholic doctrine regarding the nature of marriage as an eternal bond between man and woman. Indeed, in Letter 43 - a letter, dated March 6-8 1941, to his second son Michael - he writes of the idea of 'destined' love:

In such great inevitable love, often love at first sight, we catch a vision, I suppose, of marriage as it should have been in an unfallen world. In this fallen world we have as our only guides, prudence, wisdom (rare in youth, too late in age), a clean heart, and fidelity of will…..

Taken at face value, then, Tolkien views 'unfallen' marriage - that is to say, a pure form of marriage untainted by the Christian idea of the Fall of Man - as possessing the qualities he categorizes as 'guides' for fallen man.

What, then, does this understanding of Tolkien's deepset notions of marriage mean for his intent for Eldar marriage and familial practices?

Tolkien the (Sub-)Creator

In Volume 10 of The History of Middle-Earth, "Morgoth's Ring", Christopher Tolkien recorded his father's thoughts on the marriage and familial customs of the Eldar under the heading "OF THE LAWS AND CUSTOMS AMONG THE ELDAR PERTAINING TO MARRIAGE AND OTHER MATTERS RELATED THERETO: TOGETHER WITH THE STATUTE OF FINWE AND MIRIEL AND THE DEBATEOF THE VALAR AT ITS MAKING". In "OF THE LAWS", J.R.R. Tolkien writes:

The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part. Even when in after days, as the histories reveal, many of the Eldar in Middle-earth became corrupted, and their hearts darkened by the shadow that lies upon Arda, seldom is any tale told of deeds of lust among them.

Following a detailing of Eldar betrothal, Tolkien writes:

It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete. In happy days and times of peace it was held ungracious and contemptuous of kin to forgo the ceremonies, but it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble. In days of old, in times of trouble, in flight and exile and wandering, such marriages were often made.

Finally, after a section regarding the birth and rearing of Eldar children, Tolkien writes:

Thus, although the wedded remain so for ever, they do not necessarily dwell or house together at all times; for without considering the chances and separations of evil days, wife and husband, albeit united, remain persons individual having each gifts of mind and body that differ. Yet it would seem to any of the Eldar a grievous thing if a wedded pair were sundered during the bearing of a child, or while the first years of its childhood lasted. For which reason the Eldar would beget children only in days of happiness and peace if they could.

When read with the added context of Tolkien's Catholic Christianity, the idea of an eternal Eldar marriage seems self-evident (though he does himself make note of the idea of the 'right of revoking' an Eldar betrothal and the idea of unreturned love early in the essay, as well as the turning of Eldar desires towards other things following the birth and early years of a child that could result in a physical/spatial separation of the couple).

In detailing the form, function, and behavior of Eldar marriage, Tolkien thusly exercised what he described as "'subcreation', a tribute to the infinity of His potential variety, one of the ways in which indeed it is exhibited...". More specifically, he interjected a Catholic ideal of eternal marriage into the core culture of the Eldar of Middle-earth, and thus espoused the human understanding of the Christian God's intent for the practice of marriage.

The Importance of "Celedriel"

With Tolkien's authorial intent thus contextualized and explained, I think it would be fitting to end this post with some thoughts on the importance of Celeborn to the Second Age and the proper story of "The Rings of Power" through his marriage to Galadriel.

Beyond the simple fact that Celeborn exists in "Rings of Power" through Galadriel's naming of him as "my husband", a few things can be inferred about his nature. Though Galadriel's description of him as looking like "a silver clam" whose "armor didn't fit properly" seems to be intended as a moment of brevity in the manufactured heaviness of the scene between her and Theo, a genuine interpretation of the scene would seem to reveal that RoP!Celeborn is:

Willing, if not eager, to go to war in defense of his people/against the forces of Morgoth, and/or

Is so desperate to fulfill his duty to his fellow elves that he would rush off to war in spite of his unreadiness.

Thus, Celeborn can be seen as a reliable and faithful character, at least according to Galadriel's brief description of him. Furthermore, when looking at the Appendices of "The Lord of the Rings", we can trace Celeborn's familial relations, and thus the relationships he would feel blood-bound to defend, beyond Galadriel. In particular, Celeborn is "a kinsman of Thingol" - specifically "Thingol Greycloak of Doriath", the king of the Sindar. Thus, Celeborn is not only husband to Galadriel, but part of the royal leadership of an entirely separate clan of Elves to Galadriel's Noldor clan. Therefore, through Celeborn, there can be a natural expansion of Elven lore and culture outside of what the show has thrown together, with numerous potential storylines and interpersonal conflicts.

Finally, in regard to Celeborn's marriage to Galadriel, the eternal marital bond forged between them precludes and overrides any potential desire for another mate felt by either of them. To return again to Tolkien's words on the matter:

They are not easily deceived by their own kind; and their spirits being masters of their bodies, they are seldom swayed by the desires of the body only, but are by nature continent and steadfast.

While much and more could (and indeed should) be said regarding the anathematic writing and subsequent incongruent portrayal of Galadriel in "Rings of Power", the authorial intent is clear within the allowed adaptable text: Elves are faithful to one another, wise, controlled, and discerning. They do not easily fall for deceit or physical desire. Though their long lives and subsequent long experiences, they are the wisest and greatest of all the races of Middle-earth.

In short: they are not Men, with ever-shifting desires and volatile hearts.

(And now to wonder as to the idiocy of Elven dementia...)

[ann-atar]

12, 19, and 30 for the rop ask game!

Thanks for the ask @flameunquenched!

What colour do you associate with your favourite character?

I’m going to pick Celebrimbor for this one because he was/is definitely a favorite this season, and the color I associate with him is green, a dark vibrant green or a lighter green, like all of the variations of holly leaves. In fact if you look at some holly leaves, the interior is a dark green but the edges are a bright light green, and those colors appeared in the details of some of Celebrimbor’s green robes in the first and second seasons. It’s less to do with nature though and more to do with the creative spark essential to the life of the artist.

Which characters who haven't shared screen time yet would you most like to meet one another?

I really want Disa and Galadriel to meet and to talk, at length, about what’s going on in Middle-earth, and about their own experiences too, and those conversations will hopefully focus on much more than their experiences with the male leads. I just want them to meet and appreciate each other in some way, even if they are wary of each other at first.

Choose three characters (not necessarily your favourite ones). Say three positive things about each of them.

Tar-Míriel: She’s humble and extremely brave. She understands the burden and duty of a ruler more than any of the rulers of realms and peoples we’ve seen so far (close second is Durin II). When circumstances and individuals try to rob her of agency she manages to retain it and continue to choose her path rather than have it chosen for her.

Durin III. He absolutely loves his family and his people. Even though he could have been less stubborn about communicating his reasoning when (Prince) Durin wanted to make different choices, his instincts were good from the start. He came back to himself in the end and died (mostly) on his own terms.

Sauron/Annatar. He’s the character I love to hate, and he’s ingenious and has a deep understanding of what motivates others. He’s a source of inspiration for others, and a good collaborator (heh). He uses individuals cruelly, but so far we’ve seen that, despite his self-serving and violent intentions, he can bring out the best in the people he uses: Galadriel found her purpose and her place again, Celebrimbor was able to see past the illusions and find an amazing inner strength and purpose in the end, and even Adar was motivated, in his own way, by love for his children after he thought he vanquished Sauron.

Third thing? Sauron has impeccable Fana-sense: he knows just want body to wear to get the effect he wants. ;)

[galadriel-blue]

Getting hyped for ROP season 2!!! First off--Galadriel and Nenya!!! Galadriel and Nenya!!! I'm so excited to see my babey with her ring! But!! Do you think just wearing the ring will be enough to shield Galadriel's mind from a certain someone...or will we get some more mind games like we got right after the Big Reveal last season?!!!

I am so excited for season two and I'm so happy other people are getting hyped for it! I haven't watched the episodes yet, but I will tomorrow and I can't wait!

Ugh yes my baby Galadriel with her ring!! 😭

I feel like her ring will make things better and worse at the same time, and she will have to learn how to balance it. Because the rings are so powerful, Nenya will most likely be able to protect Galadriel from many dangers, but on the other, it might cause her more pain as Sauron could attempt to use it against her in some way.

As much as I want the ring to protect her from Sauron's control, I think that it's something that she's going to have to learn to use. As she gets more familiar with the power she weilds, her mind will become stronger, but for now, she's in such a vulnerable state from the end of season 1 that I think she is susceptible to falling into more mind games from her greatest enemy. What I've seen in the trailers seem to suggest that she is going to start having visions, and whether those are given to her by her ring as a warning or by Sauron to attempt to frighten her, I hope that we can watch her untangle all of these complicated emotions she is undoubtedly going to be feeling and come out on the other end stronger than ever.

The mind game sequence in S1 was one of my favorites and it was so cleverly done, and honestly kind of unsettling, so I hope we see it more! That's one of the best parts of Sauron's character: His ability to warp the minds of others to fit his will. Galadriel was able to fight it before, but I don't think my baby girl is going to be strong enough in season 2 to fight him off again after her emotional turmoil in season 1. Hopefully, she will have support from her friends and companions to guide her and protect her through her grief and pain. I just want her to be okay-

Thanks for sending me an ask!! I LOVE discussing TROP with other excited fans of the show, so this really made me happy! Feel free to add any of your thoughts to this if you feel so inclined!

[rey-jake-therapist]

i kinda dislike how the rop fandom is slowly refusing any sort of criticism. and i get it, after 2 years of nonstop harassment from dudebros they’re bound to be more protective of the show. but a lot of the discussion surrounding the last few eps are valid imo and it’s sad to see it be watered down to “you just don’t like it because it didn’t go your way”

eg galadriel’s character arc, how they wrote dialogue for the fight, the marvel-fication type ending on top of the cliff, the pacing of the southern plotline … i think those are fair criticisms tbh.

funnily enough i thought s1 had a bigger enjoyment rate for me than s2 which could be because they took some notes through reddit (crazy to think about) but i think the main problem is that the writers have good concepts but not execution (eg how they envision the dynamics between saurondriel vs what they translated on screen)

I agree with everything you wrote anon. I love TROP but I think it's important to feel allowed to express constructive criticism.

There's a big difference between what the lore-bros do, aka pile on the show without even watching it, calling it "utter shit" and insulting the creators, and looking objectively at season 2, its finale in particular, and point its glaring flaws while remaining respectful towards the director and the writers.

I feel like most viewers actually liked S2 more than S1 tbh. I myself think it's overall better, because there were many moments in S1 that took me out. The Celebrimbor/Annatar arc was incredible, and I didn't even mind that Galadriel and Sauron were separated because it made sense within the story : there was no way for Galadriel and Sauron to share more scenes, they couldn't be physically at the same place, at the same time ! So I really didn't mind it.

But they should have known that after 7 episodes, after showing Galadriel and Sauron being obsessed with each other, their reunion should have been epic. On that point, they simply failed to deliver, and it's not being a "bad fan", or "siding with lore-bros" to point that out.

Also I'm still angry for the way they treated Galadriel all this season. She was not only sidelined but put in positions where she had to be saved repeatedly, she was given shitty lines while the male characters got all the best lines, and the one moment she should have showed a little of bit of vulnerability was the one the writers chose to tell us, "oh look at our heroin who resists so well Sauron's temptation ! She's so badass !" I would have rather seen her be badass and not deprived of her agency through all the season, than seeing her toss away her feelings, and "shut the door", in less than 2 seconds because the writers remembered at the end that she was originally written as a the protagonist and as a feminist character.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Healing Hands

This is just a short little fic, based on this post here. The tall, broad High-King demanded a drabble aside from the ones I'd already started about him, so what else could I do? He is the High King, after all. 🥰👑

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Gil-Galad (RoP) x Half-Elven!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff.]

Warnings: Spoilers for RoP s2e8, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, soft!Gil-Galad, affectionate teasing, romantic tension, healing injuries, Gil speaking Quenya, battle aftermath, minor angst with a happy ending.

~*~

Did she truly think she was being subtle with such a limp in her step? The High King and his Herald had led their soldiers and the survivors of Eregion into a valley, establishing around it a protective, magical barrier using the rings of power.

Together, the pair had healed Lady Galadriel, but as they settled her in a soft, flat spot to recover, Gil-Galad saw his lady, clad in her own black-splattered armor, attempting to limp away unnoticed.

"Go. I'll stay with Galadriel," Elrond volunteered quietly, and with a grateful nod of acknowledgement, the King hurried through the trees after her. He hadn't even remembered seeing her struck, but obviously she had been if she was limping.

She didn't get very far. At the edge of a small clearing, he found her sitting with her back against a tree, struggling to remain conscious. His breath caught when he saw how pale she'd become. She'd clearly been hiding this for quite some time.

Without a thought beyond healing his lady, Gil-Galad dropped to his knees beside her and began slicing a window into the leg of her trousers. The cloth parted easily at the behest of his dagger, and at the waft of cool air over her skin, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ereinion?" Her voice was so shaky and quiet. "I'm sorry. Didn't...want to bother you..."

"Hush, I am here, now," he murmured as he beheld the broken-off shaft of an arrow embedded in her leg. She'd lost quite a bit of blood if the dark, drenched fabric of her trousers was any indication. Thankfully, the arrow was not lodged too deeply, and she'd left enough of it exposed for a healer to grip in order to remove it. "Fool of a girl, you should have come straight to me."

She let out a weak laugh at his affectionate scolding.

"Calling your favorite patient a fool? Ondórëa ingaranya," she murmured cupping his cheek and drawing his eyes to her own. There was no real acidity in her tone. Gil-Galad took courage in the fact that she still had enough clarity of mind to tease him. He had, in fact, healed her before, but the injuries were always insignificant and superficial. And, she'd never actively hidden them from him before.

What cause had he given her to do so? Had she been embarrassed?

Without hesitation, he turned his head just far enough to kiss her palm.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, meldanya." He hoped that she knew he referred to more than his playful jab. He also knew that to call her such, to allow such a slip, would be tantamount to a confession for which he was not certain that he was prepared. But, to call her anything less than his beloved would be a lie. Furthermore, to do so in the aftermath of such rampant death and destruction would summon within his heart guilt in such quantities that he could not abide.

Turning his attention back to her leg, he laid his palm as lightly as he could over her thigh. He whispered in Quenya, allowing the magic from his ring and from his own healing abilities to seep into her skin and numb her pain. Working quickly, he removed the arrowhead and pressed his hand over the wound, murmuring some of the same healing spells he and Elrond had used on Galadriel.

Fortunately, though, this was not a cursed wound as the former had sustained from Morgoth's crown, nor was it as severe. Her skin glowed readily beneath his touch. Within moments, the skin bound itself shut and his lady shuddered in relief as a trickle of light penetrated the canopy of trees overhead to mingle with their own.

Her hand had fallen limply away after mere moments, but Gil-Galad retrieved it once his work was complete, grasping it gently between his own blood-stained fingers. Her pulse beat steady and strong in his grasp, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. She would be alright. She had survived.

"Did you mean it?" She breathed, and he was so surprised that she was conscious that his eyes snapped immediately to hers. Despite the dirt and grime coating them both, he felt entirely exposed beneath her gaze - vulnerable and transparent before her.

He relished the sensation of being known so completely. To everyone else, he was Gil-Galad, the High King of Lindon, the bastion of strength from which his people drew their courage when darkness threatened.

To her, he was simply Ereinion. The feeling was more pleasant and intoxicating than he could possibly express.

"You called me your beloved," she continued. "Did you mean it?"

How could he deny it? He loved her. He had for centuries. Since the moment she set foot in Lindon nearly three hundred years before, Gil-Galad had surrendered to the realization that his heart would settle for no other. Her light was beyond compare, shining into even the most uncertain parts of his heart which he hid from all others. She drew him out so easily, comforted him simply by smiling in his direction. She was his strength, his courage, his most luxuriant pleasure and joy.

But, he was a king. Because she knew him, she also knew better than any other how taxing his position was. Over time, he'd convinced himself that she would not wish to bear the burden of ruling by his side, so he'd remained silent - reluctant to steal her own contentment and joy by forcing the responsibilities of a ruler upon her. She deserved to have a life unburdened by the weight of a crown.

In his secrecy, however, his heart had grown accustomed to a more profound loneliness than he'd ever previously known. On too-silent nights in his chambers, he longed to hold her close and whisper poetry in her ear - he'd composed more verses in her honor than he'd expected his heart to harbor. On tranquil mornings before the rush of the day's duties began, he ached with the need to see her curled peacefully in his arms as the light of the sunrise spilled in through the windows.

No longer. After today's battle, Ereinion could no more hold his tongue than the pair of robins who sang so freely in his gardens each morning.

"Yes. With all of my foolish heart, I meant it," he admitted, his heart singing with every word, and she lifted her free hand, threading it lightly into his hair. The King savored the feeling. Never before had she touched him so brazenly - he'd made it clear that she was more than welcome to, of course, but she never availed herself of such liberties.

He bent lower, hoping to encourage her by making his person easier to reach. He felt her bare wrist brush against the tip of his ear - sharper than her own, thanks to her half-mortal parentage - but he could not hide his blush nor the light groan she tugged from his chest.

"You have tempted me...enchanted me since our first meeting. I have eyes only for you, but if you do not feel the same, I swear on my honor that I will not torment you further." The King's oath came from the most sincere depths of his heart. For her, he would. Much as it would pain him, if she wanted nothing to do with his feelings, he would bury them deep so that only he would feel the ache. She would suffer no discomfort at his hands.

Her lips met his, stopping his spiraling thoughts in their tracks, and all his worries fell away beneath the most delicious relief. They were as soft and sumptuous as they looked - as he'd imagined them to be - and Ereinion didn't hesitate to return her affection. He may have healed her leg, but with that once simple act, she had healed the King's heart.

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

ondórëa ingaranya = my hard-hearted/pitiless high-king

meldanya = my beloved

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge

[jonsaeverafter]

Many thought that this first gave to Fëanor the idea of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees, that later became the Silmarils. He admired her hair so much that he requested a tress three times, but she refused each time and would not give him even a single strand.[1][2]

Millennia after, Gimli of the Fellowship of the Ring was asked which gift he would like before leaving Lothlórien, and he responded:

' There is nothing, Lady Galadriel', said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. 'Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire'. 

Galadriel's response surprised all of the Elves: she granted Gimli's wish and gave him three golden strands of her hair, which Gimli promised to set in crystal as a "pledge of goodwill between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days."[3]Hair of Galadriel - Tolkien Gateway

They really need to do something with this story in ROP. Give some strands to Mairon/sauron ;)

Hair of Galadriel

[nocompromise-noregrets]

3, 5 and 7 for the end of year fic asks? 🩷

wheeeee thank you lovely! <3333333

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.) OH MY GOD IT'S THE ITALIANS. >.< Honestly. It's only been a month, but I have not felt this ludicrously, exhaustingly inspired in YEARS. Also RoP and YOU my darling. <3333333

5. What ship(s) captured your heart? ahahahahahaha it's the Italians again. I am bewilderedly smitten with Pretty Singer Boy/Wee Drummer Boy With The Hair, and they WON'T SHUT UP. Also Hal and Jack absolutely recaptured me for the nth time. <333333

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year? ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. XDDDDDDDD Listen, literally five minutes after I declared to @lemurious that I did not have the time or mental energy for a new fandom (Les Mis, which I suspect will be coming for me sooner or later), I tripped and fell headlong into that pile of needy Italians and now I CAN'T GET OUT. *flails*

Thank you so much for asking (and for enabling my scenery-chewing)! <33333333333 anyone else fancy asking me some 2024 in review questions about fic? :D :D :D

[morgulscribe]

Rings of Power Season 2, Episode 2 Thoughts

Random thoughts while watching the show, not a review.

BEWARE - SPOILERS!!!!

This episode felt a little slower than the first one, but I think that the overall plot is flowing much more smoothly than the first season. Timing and location can be a bit confusing at times, however.

Moria… IT'S THE CRYSTAL LIGHTS FROM LOTRO!!!! And that green, hanging gardens looking area? It reminds me of Clovengap in Gundabad….

They finally let Disa grow some sideburns. Now the other dwarves will not make fun of her so much. (Actually, they won't, because none of the other dwarf women have a true beard.)

There are two fan stances concerning the nature and extent of Galadriel's powers. One group of fans is of the opinion that Galadriel's powers come primarily from Nenya, and her native powers lie primarily in the realm of wisdom and intuition. The other group of fans believe that Galadriel has a great strength of magic and will that is native to her - similar to her brother Finrod, who battled Sauron in song - and that she learned much spellcraft from Melian. This group believes that Nenya only enhances Galadriel's defensive powers, and even without the Ring she can do great feats of magic.

Based upon the portrayal of Galadriel in Rings of Power so far, I feel that the writers fall into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Take this quote, for example: Galadriel: Since the wearing of this Ring, I have felt perceived, glimpses of the unseen world, as dreams unbidden, coming forth to crowd my waking mind. Gil-Galad: You believe the rings have kindled your ability to see that which has not yet come to pass?

Galadriel should already be experiencing these things, without wearing Nenya. She should also see the unseen world quite well, because she has seen the Light of the Trees.

I find myself getting a little confused about what character knows what. So Galadriel tells Gil-Galad that Halbrand is Sauron, but Celebrimbor does NOT know that Halbrand is Sauron. Still, though, he is told that Halbrand is bad news, and so he initially rejects Halbrand's attempt to return to Eregion.

I think maybe I am getting confused by what character is in Lindon and what character is in Eregion. There's a lot of fast travel in this show and I have trouble keeping up.

Rhun…

NAZGUL STATUE!!!!!

::SHRIEK::

OK, so it's a statue of a hooded figure holding what appears to be an orb, but it reminds me of the statues of Nazgul in LOTRO.

In the interactions between Galadriel and Elrond, I wish that the writers had done something to show the age difference between the two characters. When trying to convince Elrond to do something, Galadriel could say something along the lines of "Respect your elders," and Elrond could say something along the lines of, "You're acting younger than me." Or something like that.

The Gray Havens are very pretty. Sort of a seaside cottage vibe.

Why did Cirdan shave his beard??? :( What does this show have against facial hair???)

Stranger slammed the end of his staff down on the ground and basically told the Rhuniags YOU CANNOT PASS!

This scene frightened the cat. I had to ensure her all was OK.

Back to Eregion… Sauron waiting for entry like a lost puppy.

So let me get this straight… Halbrand has to leave Eregion after Galadriel realizes who he is, then he goes to Mordor, gets himself captured and brought to Adar, swears allegiance to Adar, is released, and goes back to Eregion to meet up with Celebrimbor?

Writers have Sauron telling Celebrimbor to make rings for Men and Dwarves… Sadly, this plot device will continue the misinformation that less scholarly fans have been spreading about about the Rings of Power for years. ALL OF THE RINGS WERE MEANT FOR ELVES, NOT MEN OR DWARVES. When Sauron's plan to dominate the elves failed, he decided to try the same trick with Men and Dwarves, using the sixteen Rings of Power that had been made for Elves. It's important here to keep Tolkien's canon and RoP canon separate.

Sauron coming as a god out of a flaming forge. Very on brand for a former servant of Aule. His voice is so calming and soothing here….