#celeborn

[whosthatsilmcharacter]

(All art used with EXPRESS permission from the artist)

[weary-observer]

Waiting for the announcement of Celeborn’s actor like:

[conundrumoftime]

As promised to a few people, the finally finished post about why I enjoy thinking/writing about Celeborn in a Haladriel context. 

[short note to say: this is me, talking about what I personally find interesting/fun. I am not interested in trying to prove anyone else’s likes and preferences right or wrong and I firmly believe that transformative fandom has infinite space for ideas. I won’t be disclaimering every single thing in here with ‘for me!’ and ‘ymmv’ and ‘obviously not everyone’s into this, but personally’ and so on, but the fandom’s been so weird about fandom things lately that I’m adding this here at the start.]

So I am deeply into Haladriel as a ship (this is probably not a huge surprise after two years and 30+ fics). And I’m also really interested in Celeborn, mainly from a books perspective - for now at least! - but also in the potential of him turning up in TROP. And the thing about this is, for me: I can write and chat and think about Galadriel’s relationship with Celeborn without Sauron being much of a factor at all, but when it comes to Haladriel as a show ship it always comes with the spectre of her missing husband there at the back of my mind.

This works great with my general shipping tastes. I don’t care much for love triangles in the traditional ‘heroine must choose between two romantic interests’ sense, but I love ships that get tangled up in each other; I love established relationships being complicated and interesting; I love conflicted feelings and divided loyalties. So it is very much a feature, rather than a bug, to be thinking “but she’s married and the husband’s going to come back at some point, so where does that leave this ship?” Because that’s the fun question: where does that leave this ship? 

When I’m writing Haladriel, Celeborn intrigues me in his absence. I like thinking about what fleeting thoughts Galadriel might have about him, and how that fits in her head with how she’s thinking of Halbrand (before or after she learns who he is). When she describes Celeborn to Theo, her memory of him seems very bound up with her memory of her younger self - they were happy, there was dancing in flowery forest glades, she didn’t really think the war would affect her - and it feels like she’s mourning that younger Galadriel as much as she is Celeborn. 

So how does the idea of feeling close to someone else now, feeling desire for someone else, sit with that? Would she feel guilty? Would she find herself comparing who she is now and who she was then? Does anything she feels for Saurbrand remind her of how she felt about Celeborn - the attraction, the bickering, the sense of being really deeply seen - and is it “this is so different” or “this is disturbingly familiar”? And if it’s the second one, how does she process that with the knowledge that this guy is Sauron? 

And he also intrigues me in his presence, and all the possibilities that creates.

At the moment in TROP canon Celeborn isn’t there. With the exception of Galadriel’s “and my husband” lines to Theo, he isn’t even mentioned. He’s been gone a very long time and it’s unlikely any of the characters we’ve met would have ever even met him other than Galadriel and possibly Círdan (and given that Adar mentioned Melian, possibly him too). Galadriel thinks he’s dead, an entirely reasonable assumption for a soldier who didn’t come back from battles that looked like this:

Which feels like a deliberate echo of the First World War that Tolkien fought in (another one I can think of is the Númenorean volunteer soldiers going off to war through cheering crowds): 

One of the many newly awful things about that war for Tolkien’s generation was the sheer number of the missing, soldiers who were never buried at all or whose graves say ‘Known Unto God’. The Menin Gate memorial to the missing has fifty thousand names; the idea of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier came about after this war, a way to give a grave and a funeral and a ceremony to one soldier who stood in for them all. So the idea of a character who went away to the war and then was never seen again feels fitting.

But the thing is, we know Celeborn isn’t dead. We know he’s going to come back because unlike the characters, we know what happens in LOTR; we know this show’s set up as a prequel; and we know the Tolkien estate has rules in place about how far it’s allowed to diverge from where LOTR ends up, including ‘no killing off characters who don’t canonically die then’, so he’s almost certainly coming back in the show itself. 

So in show canon Galadriel will end up where she ends up in canon-canon. (This is not a show prediction (although I do have those too!), I’m talking about where her story ends up by LOTR). She will have Celeborn back; she will describe him as someone who has stood by her for thousands of years while they have ‘fought the long defeat’ together. And she will be leading the fight against Sauron in a very personal way, stuck in mental warfare with him, ‘ever they strive now in thought’ - and in TROP fic where I’m playing about with that connection as an interpersonal one that goes back to Halbrand, well, what does that mean for her and her returned husband? 

So I like thinking and writing about how those two people and two relationships sit together in her head. I like thinking about how much Celeborn must know about it, three thousand years later. (I joke about Celeborn occasionally being her answering service when she wants some time off from the mind-battle: sitting by her Mirror reading a book with his feet up, saying ’She’s busy just now, please leave a message’, or joining in with the ‘fair as the sea and the sun…’ in a slightly bored tone when Sauron tries to shock him with it. He fell in love with rebellious “I don’t care what the gods say” First Age Galadriel, he knows who he married). 

And for both of these, I find the relationship that TROP has set up for its take on Galadriel and Celeborn to have such potential for playing around with in fic. (Canon might let me down! But there will always and ever be AO3.) Because they’re not the two people they were, so they will to some degree have to get to know each other all over again. How do you reconcile someone who exists to you as a memory with the reality of them back now but changed maybe just as much as you’ve been changed? We know where they started, and we know where they end up, but this whole middle bit of their relationship in TROP canon is hugely uncertain and there are so many intriguing and wonderful ways it could play out. 

And I like thinking about what other angles the presence of Sauron adds to Galadriel and Celeborn’s book interactions, in this take on the story. She calling him “giver of gifts beyond the power of kings”, he calling her his “treasure”, which in his Sindarin would be ‘mîr’ and so could be equally translated as ‘precious’… Because, if he comes back in TROP canon when Sauron is still a very active adversary and antagonist, then they have to rebuild that marriage with his presence as this huge weight that’s just There. What has he been to them both? And where might that go?

[r0cket-lotr]

this is what frodo saw when galadriel and celeborn walked down those steps for the first time

(galadriel is the one on the left)

[conversacomsmaug]

Christmas prompts. Any ideas?

answer me... Pleasee haha

So I can write a good story.

[earthlybeam]

hewwoo~ long time enjoyer here! very excited to see someone writes for celeborn. I just love that malewife elf <3

could you do a cheeky/snarky!reader flirting with celeborn, gil-galad and thranduil please? these are my top 3 elves rn and your writing is soooo dreamy :3

how would the elves react to this?

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Celeborn, Gil-galad, thranduil Versions are below. They are two versions of each.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

First one

𖣂 The tranquil beauty of Lothlórien surrounds you, the golden light of the mellyrn trees filtering softly through their shimmering leaves. The ethereal air of the Golden Wood feels almost otherworldly, a quiet calm that speaks of the millennia of wisdom and magic that have shaped this realm. In the center of it all stands Celeborn, a vision of elven grace and nobility. His silver hair glows faintly in the dappled light, his piercing eyes reflecting a serene yet sharp intelligence. He exudes a quiet dignity, a presence that commands respect without arrogance. You approach him, feeling a flutter of nerves—after all, it’s not every day you stand before the Lord of Lothlórien. But instead of bowing in formality, you decide to take a different approach, a playful glint in your eye. You mocking awe “So this is the great Lord of Lothlórien. Wise, graceful… and probably the reason half the elves here are swooning. Is there a waiting list to get your attention, or do I have to bribe someone?”

𖣂 For a moment, Celeborn’s serene expression doesn’t change, and you wonder if your playful tone has fallen flat. Then, his lips curl ever so slightly into a small, amused smile. His gaze meets yours, steady and unflinching, but with a hint of curiosity. Celeborn slightly amused. “You seem resourceful. I imagine you’d find a way without resorting to bribery.” His voice is smooth and measured, carrying a subtle warmth beneath its calm surface. He tilts his head ever so slightly, as if studying you, his amusement flickering like a spark behind his eyes.

𖣂 You take his response as an invitation to continue the playful banter, stepping closer and lowering your voice conspiratorially. You grinning “Oh, I don’t need to bribe anyone. I’ll just charm you into skipping the line.” A soft chuckle escapes him, rare and quiet, but genuine. He regards you for a moment longer, the faintest trace of a smirk lingering on his face. His demeanor remains composed, but there’s an undeniable twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Charm, is it? A bold strategy, but one that requires confidence… and no small amount of skill. I suppose you believe yourself well-qualified?”

𖣂 You feign offense, placing a hand dramatically over your heart. You mock indignation. “Well-qualified? My lord, you wound me. I’ll have you know my charm has been praised by elves, men, and hobbits alike. But if you doubt me, perhaps I should prove it?” The slight upward twitch of his eyebrow tells you he’s enjoying this far more than he’s letting on. His voice lowers, adopting a playful edge that’s rare for someone so reserved. “Prove it? A dangerous proposition. If I find your proof lacking, I may be forced to remain unimpressed.”

𖣂 The challenge in his words is subtle, but it’s there, hidden beneath layers of calm composure. His tone is light, but his gaze holds yours, unyielding yet inviting. You leaning in slightly. “Then I’ll just have to ensure my proof is flawless. Though, if I may say so, my lord, you don’t seem the type who is easily unimpressed.” For a fleeting moment, Celeborn seems to weigh your words, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curve into a small, genuine smile—a rare and dazzling sight that takes you by surprise. “Perhaps I am not. But you certainly have a… unique approach. Let us see if your charm is as formidable as you claim.” There’s a softness in his voice now, almost teasing but still restrained, as though he’s testing the waters of this exchange. The quiet Lord of Lothlórien, it seems, is not entirely immune to the art of playful flirtation.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Second one

𖣂 The golden light of Lothlórien dances across the delicate leaves of the mellyrn trees, their quiet whispers filling the tranquil air. Celeborn stands at the edge of a silver fountain, his tall figure radiating an air of timeless grace. His silvery hair catches the light, and his calm, thoughtful expression seems almost impenetrable—a mask of serene composure hiding layers of complexity. There’s something undeniably magnetic about him, a mystery you can’t quite resist unraveling. You approach with a playful smile, deciding to push past his reserved demeanor. After all, who can resist a bit of teasing? You playfully, with mock thoughtfulness. “You know, Celeborn, you’re like a riddle wrapped in an enigma… wrapped in very nice robes. Care to unravel yourself for me?”

𖣂 For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his sharp eyes studying you with quiet intensity. Then, the corners of his lips lift in the faintest hint of a smile—a rare gesture from the ever-composed Lord of Lothlórien. His gaze flickers with subtle amusement as he tilts his head slightly. Celeborn calmly, with a touch of humor. ”Perhaps some mysteries are better left unsolved.” His voice, smooth and rich like a stream gliding over polished stones, carries the faintest undertone of mischief. He clasps his hands behind his back, watching you with that infuriatingly composed expression, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.

𖣂 Not one to back down, you step closer, your smile turning into a confident grin. “Oh, don’t be shy. I’m very good at solving puzzles. Especially handsome ones.” He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rare, like a secret shared in the stillness of the woods. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze with a quiet intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. For a moment, his hands shift slightly, as if he’s about to reach for the clasps of his robe. Celeborn with a playful glint in his eye. “You’re certain you’re prepared? Unraveling a mystery often leads to more questions than answers.” For a heartbeat, you freeze, caught off guard by the sudden flicker of teasing in his voice. His fingers hover near the clasp of his elegant robes, and you swear there’s a flicker of humor in his otherwise serene expression. Then, just as quickly, he lowers his hands again, his composure fully restored, as though he’s never broken it.

𖣂 Celeborn with a quiet smirk. “But I fear you’ll have to be content with the mystery for now.” Your jaw drops slightly, and he watches your reaction with subtle amusement, clearly pleased with his ability to turn the tables. His serene demeanor may have returned, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes now—a rare glimpse of the playful side hidden beneath his reserved exterior. You laughing, shaking your head. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But don’t think this means I’m giving up. I’ll unravel you yet, Lord Celeborn.” His gaze softens, his smile lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter before he speaks again “Persistence can be a virtue. Perhaps, in time, you may find the answers you seek. Until then… I shall enjoy watching you try.” With that, he turns, his silver hair catching the light as he walks away with the same composed grace that drives you both intrigued and infuriated. You can’t help but grin to yourself, already planning your next move.

👑𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

First one

🜲 You leaning casually against one of the smooth marble pillars of Gil-galad’s study, your posture relaxed yet deliberate. A mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you tilt your head slightly, watching him pour over a parchment with that signature air of kingly focus. Your voice cuts through the serene quiet, light and teasing, deliberately challenging the stillness of the room. “Is it exhausting being the High King of the Noldor? All that responsibility, all those admirers…”

🜲 Gil-galad His quill pauses mid-stroke, hovering above the parchment as the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly. He doesn’t respond right away, instead straightening slowly, his head tilting with an expression that borders on amused curiosity. His sharp blue-gray eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a moment, he studies you as though he’s weighing the best course of action. With quiet deliberation, he sets the quill down and moves the parchment aside. His gaze lingers, his regal composure softening just enough to betray a flicker of playfulness. Finally, his lips curve into a small, knowing smile—a smile that feels rare and deliberate, as though meant just for you. “The burden is lighter than it seems.” You pushing off the pillar, your steps slow and deliberate as you cross the room toward him. The marble floor cool beneath your feet echoes faintly with each step, but your focus is entirely on him. Your voice drops slightly, playful and edged with a hint of challenge, your eyes locked onto his as you draw closer. “Good. Wouldn’t want you too tired to pay attention to me.”

🜲 Gil-galad His smile widens slightly, though it remains subtle, restrained. He’s a king accustomed to holding himself in check, to hiding emotions beneath layers of composure, yet the faint glimmer in his eyes reveals far more than words could. He leans back in his chair with deliberate elegance, folding his hands in his lap as though truly considering your words. For a brief moment, he remains silent, allowing the weight of his gaze to settle on you, his expression one of thoughtful amusement. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, steady as always but carrying a faint undercurrent of dry humor. “I fear that might be the greatest burden of all,” he muses, his tone calm yet laced with subtle warmth, “To balance the weight of my duties with the demands of someone as… captivating as you.”

🜲 You laughing softly, the sound light and genuine, unable to resist the warmth blooming in your chest at his carefully chosen words. You feel your cheeks flush despite yourself, though you try to mask it with an exaggeratedly skeptical glance. “So you do pay attention, after all.” Gil-galad His gaze softens, and for a moment, the High King standing before you seems more man than monarch. There’s something deeply personal in the way he watches you now, the faintest trace of warmth lingering behind the carefully composed exterior he so often wears. Rising from his chair, he moves toward you with the measured grace of a ruler, each step deliberate, each movement carrying an unshakable authority. And yet, as he closes the distance between you, there’s a subtle shift in his demeanor—a slight easing of the ever-present weight on his shoulders. He stops just a pace away, his posture relaxed yet still commanding.

🜲 “I could hardly afford not to,” he replies smoothly, his voice quieter now, edged with sincerity. “You have a way of ensuring no one forgets your presence.” You crossing your arms, your lips quirking into a playful smile as you tilt your head, pretending to study him with exaggerated seriousness. Your tone takes on an air of mock suspicion as you raise an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment or an accusation?” Gil-galad A low chuckle escapes him, the sound deep and warm, carrying the kind of richness that feels rare, a private melody meant only for you. His usual stoic mask cracks slightly, replaced by an expression of quiet amusement. He leans in just enough to close the space between you, his voice lowering to a tone reserved only for these rare moments—intimate, yet measured in its affection. “Whichever pleases you more, my heart.” As his words hang in the air, there’s a quiet sincerity beneath the teasing tone, a depth to his gaze that speaks volumes more than he says aloud. His presence, as always, is commanding, but in this moment, it feels as though the weight of his kingship has been set aside, leaving only the man beneath.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Second one

🜲 You leaning back against the edge of the grand oak desk in Gil-galad’s study, your fingers lightly brushing the polished surface as you fix him with a teasing smile. The golden light of the setting sun filters through the tall arched windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Your tone is light, playful, but edged with a challenge as you let your words hang in the air for a moment. “Do you always get your way, High King? Or is that just with the elves?”

🜲 Gil-galad Seated across the room, his tall frame is poised in his chair, one leg crossed over the other with effortless elegance. He has been reviewing a series of maps and reports, but at your words, he pauses. His sharp blue-gray eyes lift to meet yours, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. The faintest trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one of those rare, restrained smiles that carry far more meaning than they let on. Setting the map aside, he leans back slightly, his hands resting lightly on the armrests of the chair, his tone calm but laced with playful humor. “I like to think my influence speaks for itself.” You pushing off the desk, you take a slow step toward him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Your voice drops just slightly, a touch more challenging now, as though daring him to rise to the bait. “Mm, I’m not so easily influenced. Care to try your luck?”

🜲 Gil-galad His expression shifts subtly, the amusement in his eyes deepening as his smile widens just a fraction—a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that carries a quiet confidence. He remains seated, perfectly composed, though there’s a distinct shift in his demeanor now, an energy that feels both commanding and utterly unhurried. His gaze never wavers from yours, as though he’s assessing you with the same precision he would an opponent on the battlefield. When he speaks, his voice is smooth, steady, and just a little too calm, as though he’s already several moves ahead in the game. “You underestimate me,” he says, his tone light but carrying a faint, teasing edge. “I’ve persuaded kings, warriors, and even dwarves to see things my way. Convincing you, I suspect, will be far more rewarding.”

🜲 You laughing softly, you step closer still, your hands coming to rest lightly on the back of the chair he’s seated in. You lean forward just slightly, close enough now that you can see the fine details of his features—the faint lines of wisdom and wear, the undeniable sharpness of his gaze. Your tone is playful, but there’s a spark of genuine curiosity beneath it as you tilt your head “Rewarding? Now I’m intrigued. What makes me such a challenge, Your Majesty?” Gil-galad For a moment, he allows the silence to linger, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of quiet intensity. His fingers drum lightly against the armrest of his chair before he finally stands, his movements smooth and deliberate. Rising to his full height, he steps closer, closing the distance between you with a measured confidence that feels almost magnetic. His voice lowers slightly, though it remains as composed and calm as ever, the weight of his presence filling the room. “Because you’ve already decided not to make it easy for me,” he says, his tone laced with a warmth that hints at the depth of his amusement. He leans in just enough to meet your gaze directly, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his lips. “And something tells me you enjoy watching me try.”

🜲 You grinning, your heart skipping a beat at the way his voice dips just enough to send a thrill through you. You lean back slightly, folding your arms as though to regain the upper hand, though the glint in your eyes betrays your delight. “Well, you’re not wrong. But you’ll need to do better than charm if you want to win me over.” Gil-galad Chuckling softly, the sound low and velvety, he straightens, his posture once again effortlessly regal but with a relaxed air that makes him seem a touch more human. His gaze remains steady, filled with that same quiet confidence that somehow manages to disarm you without him needing to say another word. Finally, he tilts his head slightly, his tone light but edged with unmistakable challenge. “Then I’ll just have to prove that my charm isn’t the only weapon in my arsenal.” There’s a moment of tension, warm and playful but charged with the kind of energy that leaves you breathless. As the silence stretches between you, his expression softens just slightly, the teasing fading into something deeper—more genuine. His next words, when they come, are softer, more sincere. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?” Would you like to expand on this dynamic further or explore their growing connection?

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

First one

𐂂 “Is it a requirement for Woodland Kings to look this good, or are you just an overachiever?” The moment the words leave your lips, Thranduil’s gaze sharpens, his sharp features softening just slightly as his eyes lock onto yours. There’s a quiet intensity in his expression, like a king accustomed to being admired yet intrigued by your boldness. He stands tall and unshakable, draped in the finest silks and delicate leathers that reflect the light of the dim torches around him, his crown—woven from intricate threads of ivy and moonstone—sitting like a regal crown atop his silvery hair. Every inch of him seems to radiate an ethereal, otherworldly charm, and you can feel the weight of his presence even before he speaks. He takes a slow, measured step closer to you, the long folds of his cloak trailing behind him, creating a slight rustle that adds to the tension of the moment. His gaze remains steady and unwavering as he tilts his head slightly to the side, lips curling into a smile that is both knowing and a touch condescending, but with a flicker of something more—amusement, perhaps, or even admiration.

𐂂 “It is my duty to embody the finest qualities of my people,” he replies, his voice as smooth and velvety as the finest elven fabric, laced with a sense of quiet authority. His eyes glint with the centuries of wisdom he carries, as if every word spoken is as deliberate as the actions of a seasoned ruler. The corners of his mouth twitch upward as he watches you, clearly amused by the impish challenge in your tone. His presence fills the space, and the air seems to thrum with an ancient energy, a reminder of the weight of his lineage and the depth of his experience. Yet, his response is not one of arrogance, but of confidence—Thranduil is not a man who feels the need to boast because his actions speak louder than any words ever could. You find your heart skip a beat, even as you try to maintain your composure. Thranduil doesn’t break eye contact as he waits for your next move, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this back-and-forth. “And here I thought your finest quality was making my heart race. My mistake.” The words leave your lips with just a hint of teasing, and the moment they do, Thranduil’s smile deepens, the cool elegance of his demeanor shifting, ever so slightly, into something more playful. His eyes narrow, but it’s not in a way that suggests offense—it’s a look of someone who’s been caught off guard but enjoys the challenge.

𐂂 He takes another step closer, his height making you feel small, but not uncomfortable—more like a willing subject in a game with a ruler who knows all the rules. His voice, when it comes, is low, warm, and rich with amusement. “Your heart races, you say?” His voice is almost a whisper now, a quiet challenge. His gaze flickers down to your lips before returning to your eyes, and for a moment, he seems to enjoy the effect he’s having on you. “I suppose it’s not entirely unexpected. I am, after all, a king. Kings tend to have that effect on those in their presence.” You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, but you hold his gaze, refusing to show any sign of retreat. Thranduil leans in just slightly, his proximity sending a quiet, almost imperceptible thrill through your body. His hand rests lightly on the back of his throne, the fingers elegant and graceful, a reminder that every movement of his is deliberate, every action measured.

𐂂 “But I wonder,” he continues, his eyes now twinkling with a mix of mischief and intrigue, “how much longer your heart will race, once you realize the full measure of the danger in such words.” It’s a teasing warning, yet you can’t help but feel the pull of his presence—the way his every word seems to carry weight, but still, there’s a softness behind it, a reminder that despite his regal persona, there’s more to him than just the king. There’s a man, a father, a warrior, who’s just as capable of feeling as he is of ruling. He straightens, his posture as dignified as ever, though the smile still lingers on his lips—one that tells you this game is far from over. The flicker of warmth in his eyes betrays that, despite his cool exterior, you’ve captured his attention in a way few others have.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Second one

𐂂 “You’re so tall and elegant, Thranduil. How do you manage to stay grounded with all that perfection?” Thranduil’s eyebrows arch slightly, and a knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He leans back in his throne, one arm draped elegantly over the armrest, his fingers idly brushing the stem of a goblet. His piercing, ice-blue eyes sweep over you with the air of someone both amused and intrigued, as though he’s indulging in a game he didn’t expect to find entertaining “I do not concern myself with trivialities,” he replies, his voice smooth as the finest elven wine, laced with a soft, amused edge. There’s a flicker of challenge in his gaze, as though daring you to continue this line of conversation.

𐂂 You take a step closer, emboldened by the faintest twitch of his smirk. The warmth of the dim torchlight flickers against the intricate carvings of the throne room, but nothing compares to the heat that rises to your cheeks under his penetrating gaze. “Oh, I don’t know,” you say, tilting your head and letting your own smirk bloom across your lips. “I think you should concern yourself with me.” For the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crosses his features, though he recovers quickly, tilting his head ever so slightly to regard you with renewed interest. The playful amusement in his eyes deepens, like sunlight glinting off the sharp edge of a blade. “Should I?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a lower register, laced with feigned indifference. Yet, the faint curl of his lips betrays his curiosity. “And why, pray tell, should I entertain such… boldness?” His words are clipped, deliberate, but there’s no mistaking the hint of a challenge—an invitation for you to prove yourself worthy of his attention. His gaze is steady, unflinching, and yet you can sense that beneath the stoic façade, you’ve intrigued him in a way he finds both unexpected and irresistible.

𐂂 You draw closer, your confidence unwavering. “Because, my king,” you say, holding his gaze as if you were his equal, “perfection such as yours deserves to be admired by someone who knows how to appreciate it… thoroughly.” For a long moment, there’s silence in the room, save for the faint rustle of the forest beyond the stone walls. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest narrowing of his eyes, and the flicker of a grin that he doesn’t quite suppress. “It seems,” he says slowly, his voice laced with wry amusement, “that you possess the audacity of a dwarf and the finesse of an elf. A most… peculiar combination.”

𐂂 You laugh softly, undeterred. “I suppose it’s only fitting, my king. One must be bold to catch your attention.” He leans forward slightly in his throne, the golden light catching in the silver strands of his hair and illuminating his face like a carved statue brought to life. The faintest flicker of warmth touches his otherwise icy demeanor as he studies you. “Consider it caught,” he says finally, his voice smooth as silk, though the subtle arch of his brow reminds you that he will not be easily won. “But beware, little mortal. Tread lightly, lest you find yourself entangled in matters far beyond your comprehension.” And yet, the faintest smile plays on his lips, an unspoken promise that he finds the prospect of this game far more entertaining than he cares to admit.

[unavidas]

A young Celeborn and Galadriel, sometime during the first age

[sakasakiii]

elrond through the ages based on one glorious panel from chapter 95 of Black Butler (hopefully i got that right....). in the context of this sequence, i always thought it was sad to think abt how many people elrond has lost throughout his life alongside how remarkable he is to remain "as kind as summer" still by the time the hobbit rolls around 🥺

i redrew elrond's poses based on ciel's in the original panels BUT i forgot what page exactly the original panel sequence is... however!! if you scroll down to the middle half of this blog post you can find the original reference pic :D warning that it includes heavy spoilers for the black butler manga so u could just alternatively google 'ciel phantomhive running' and it'd probably be one of the first results that pop up haha

[sapphoismymuse]

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

tom bombadil

aragorn

faramir

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

elrond

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

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

[afanofmanyhats]

One of my favorite things about Tolkien's writing is that he has a very specific, recurring trope. For lack of a better term, I'm dubbing this the Tolkien Wife-Guy.

This is mainly obvious in the Silmarillion, but Tolkien loves to write couples where the man is a notable individual- nobility, commits a great deed, or both- but the wife is at least equally notable, if not more beloved or powerful. Manwe is the king of the Valar and Eru's main representative in Arda? Everyone loves Varda more, and Melkor fears her more than his own brother. Elu Thingol is the king of the Silvan Elves? His wife is Melian, whose Girdle is the magic that keeps Morgoth's forces at bay. Beren is a chief among the Edain, who befriends animals and survives one of the most nightmarish places in Beleriand? His wife is Luthien.

Even in Lord of the Rings we see this occur, though the couples are on more even footing. Tom Bombadil is... Tom Bombadil, but Goldberry is the River-daughter, and Tom adores her above everything else, and the hobbits are completely taken in with her when she's their host. Similarly, while Celeborn is a mighty lord among Elves, Galadriel is one of the only Noldor in Middle-earth who saw the Two Trees, and her hair inspired Feanor to make the Silmarils, not to mention her own accomplishments in the war against Morgoth. Aragorn is the king of Gondor and Arnor, but Arwen is the Evenstar of the Elves, the descendant of three(?) different royal Elven lines. And Faramir becomes the Steward of Gondor and is one of the noblest men alive, but Eowyn killed the Witch-king, so you know. She got the grander moment for the saga.

But with (most) of these couples, we never get the impression that the man views his wife as Less-Than, or as a junior partner. Thingol is the main exception to this in how he dismisses Melian's counsel, and that's made out to be his foolishness within the text. Otherwise, Manwe treats Varda as his co-ruler, Beren never tries to downplay Luthien's achievements, and I'm pretty sure most of Tom Bombadil's dialogue is about how gorgeous Goldberry is. It's really sweet.

All of these examples really testify to how much Tolkien loved his wife. People rightly point to Beren and Luthien as the prime example of that, but I think you can find it in these other couples too. Even though Edith is mainly known to history as Mrs. Tolkien, it's evident to me that Jirt saw her as a whole person worthy of admiration outside of being his wife.

[tripadvisor-said-fivestar-mordor]

Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember in the Silmarillion or the Lord of the Rings any characters who fell out of love (like mutual love not unrequited crushes (and unless death (or presumed death) separated them)). Arwen and Aragorn remained together till death did them part, and so did Beren and Lúthien. Elrond never replaced Celebrían, Celeborn followed Galadriel wherever she went, Eärendil chose immortality and remained by Elwing’s side, Idril stayed with Tuor, I’m not talking about Nimrodel and Amroth, and Gorlim betrayed everyone for Eilinel.

I just feel like that says a lot about Tolkien’s view on love / Edith

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

'Elves are gay'

Yes but NOTHING is as gay. I repeat, nothing is as gay as Celeborn chosing to not go to the undying lands WITH HIS WIFE GALADRIEL, who instead went with Elrond but instead

Get this

Deciding to hang out in the woods WITH KING THRANDUIL for literal years

Sorry but what. Your wife is like 'I am going to Valinor darling please join me so we can be reunited with our daughter. Elrond is also coming to be with his wife'

But he's like, sorry entire family, I'm going to hang out in the woods with King Thranduil to merge our Kingdoms together, not like through marrying our sons and daughters but just two middle-aged men frolicking in the meadows and then presumably leaving on the last ship to Valinor together

????????????????????????????? All the 'cheating' Galadriel did doesn't compare to this honestly that's fully insane lol also this is actually canon as in Tolkien wrote this

[dagordagorath]

17 January: The Fellowship arrives at Caras Galadhon

[conundrumoftime]

"NO DWARVES IN MY FOREST 😡"

"Your wife is hot."

"...THIS ONE DWARF WITH IMPECCABLE TASTE CAN STAY"

[artesdaterramediabykithkerulin]

✨Celeborn✨

[velvet4510]

I don’t think any of us should ever overlook Celeborn’s love for Galadriel, because it’s really something.

Usually in Tolkien’s texts, it’s the girl following the guy. Lúthien followed Beren to Tol-in-Gaurhoth and Angband and later into death itself, Níniel followed Turambar to Cabed-en-Aras, Elwing followed Eärendil to Valinor, Éowyn followed Faramir to Ithilien, Arwen followed Aragorn to Gondor and later into death itself, etc. Not that this is a bad thing, not at all. (It should never be deemed disempowering for a woman to follow a man she loves and who loves her and treats her right, if that is her choice.) But overall, considering the wide variety of couples in Middle-earth, it does get repetitive sometimes.

Yet with these two, it’s the opposite. Celeborn always followed Galadriel.

When Galadriel departed Doriath, Celeborn went with her. He left all his kin behind to be with her. We don’t know for sure how his kin reacted to his relationship with a Noldo, but it could very well be that they eloped. She was just that important to him.

Then for the next 2 ages, they endured all sorts of trials and tribulations together across Middle-earth and eventually settled down in Lothlórien. There, Celeborn never tried to make Galadriel subservient to him. She had as much say in how things were run as he himself did. They were true co-rulers, equals in every way.

Then finally, Celeborn temporarily let Galadriel go. He was alright with her leaving on the White Ship to see their daughter and her parents and brothers again, while he stayed behind to finish what needed to be finished. He didn’t force her to stay with him when he himself could not (yet) leave. He didn’t hold her back from reuniting with people she loved and had lost so long ago.

And ultimately, Celeborn followed Galadriel once again. Though he was a Sinda born and bred, and never before had any desire to cross the Sea, he left his own homeland behind forever to reunite with her in her homeland. She still was just that important to him.

This guy was down bad for this girl. He lived his whole life drunk on wifeguy juice. Respect Celeborn.