#celebrimbor headcanons

[earthlybeam]

There are the extra I did.

elves react to a daring surprise kiss from reader/you while drunk on wine at a festival.

how would the elves react to this?

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Gil-galad, Celebrimbor Versions below.

👑𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

🜲 The Festival of the Two Trees had always been a sacred occasion in Lindon, a time for the Elves to gather and remember the radiance that once illuminated the world in its purest form. The night was alive with the soft glow of lanterns, reflecting the ancient reverence for Telperion and Laurelin, whose light had birthed the stars themselves. Music echoed through the trees, and laughter floated through the air, as the Elves celebrated what had been, and what still remained. Gil-galad, standing among the gathered folk, was a figure of regal calm amidst the lively celebration. His long, silver hair seemed to shimmer in the dimming light, as though it caught the essence of the stars above. The High King, often seen as composed and reserved, allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation this night. His eyes, usually sharp with the weight of his kingship, softened slightly as he observed the revelry around him.

�� You, however, were different from the rest. Over the years, your friendship had become something deeper to him, though he kept it buried beneath the layers of duty and the demands of leadership. There had always been an unspoken connection between the two of you—moments where your laughter intertwined, your conversations shared secrets only the closest of friends could understand. Yet, tonight, after a few too many cups of wine, there was an undeniable shift in the air. Something charged, something that had been building for longer than either of you dared to acknowledge. You wandered closer to him, your footsteps light but sure, the laughter of the crowd around you fading into a backdrop. Gil-galad’s eyes followed your approach, his usually measured expression giving way to a rare flicker of curiosity. “You seem more… lively tonight,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, tinged with an almost imperceptible warmth.

🜲 “I’m just enjoying the festival, Your Majesty,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. The wine had loosened your usual restraint, and a boldness, which you could never quite summon in the light of day, took root in you tonight. The words had barely left your lips before you took a step forward, closing the distance between you and Gil-galad. With a swift motion, driven by some deep impulse that had been brewing all evening, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. It was a daring move—one that surprised even you—but it was the intoxicating freedom of the festival, the shared laughter, and the deep connection you had built with him over time that gave you the courage.

🜲 For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The music and voices of the festival faded into silence, leaving only the echo of your kiss. Gil-galad, normally so composed and unshakable, stood still in shock. His heart raced beneath the cool exterior, his breath catching as the warmth of the moment settled around him. You pulled back, slightly breathless, your gaze meeting his. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, a flash of something that might have been vulnerability—but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. The King, for all his wisdom and strength, was caught off guard. He cleared his throat, his voice low and steady, though his composure wavered for just a heartbeat. “You… surprise me,” he said softly, his words tinged with amusement but also something deeper. Something unspoken. Gil-galad’s gaze softened, and despite the authority he carried as High King, he found himself lost in the moment. “You are a bold one,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

🜲 He had always been a man of duty, of responsibility, but there, in that moment, he was a man caught between what he had always been and the overwhelming pull of something more personal, more human. “Is it truly so surprising?” you asked, your voice teasing yet sincere, still feeling the afterglow of the moment. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, a rare, almost imperceptible smile breaking through his usually stoic expression. “Perhaps not,” he murmured, though the depth of his emotions was veiled beneath his calm demeanor. “But you should know that I am not so easily won over, even by a kiss like that.”

🜲 His tone was both playful and serious, as if he were warning you, but also, in some quiet corner of his heart, wondering if there was more to this than just the unexpected kiss. Gil-galad, despite the years and the wisdom he carried, found himself in unfamiliar territory. He was, for a moment, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in your relationship. But even as the King, whose life had been shaped by duty, he couldn’t deny the quiet stirring in his chest. Something had changed, something had broken through the barriers of his carefully constructed world.

🜲 For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to feel that: the warmth of your touch, the unexpected sweetness of your kiss, and the possibility of something more than the formality of his crown and duty. But the moment was fleeting, and as always, the weight of leadership quickly tugged him back. Still, as he met your gaze again, there was a flicker of something deeper—something that suggested that, despite the barriers of time, honor, and responsibility, he, too, might be ready to explore what this meant.

💍𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻

𖢻 The starlight festival in Eregion was one of the most anticipated events of the year, a night where the Elves gathered to celebrate the craft of creation, art, and beauty. The evening sky was filled with the soft, glowing radiance of a thousand stars, the heavens themselves seemingly woven into the very fabric of the evening’s celebration. Lanterns glimmered along the cobblestone streets of the city, their golden light reflecting off of intricate sculptures, delicate jewelry, and the finest weapons forged by the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. The air was filled with laughter, music, and the rich, complex aromas of Elven wines, aged for centuries in the cellars of Eregion. Celebrimbor stood near a table displaying his latest works—gleaming, flawless pieces of silver, mithril, and gemstones—his eyes glinting with pride as admirers marveled at his creations. His normally composed demeanor had softened slightly with the warmth of the wine he had enjoyed, though his mind remained sharp, ever meticulous in his craft. He was surrounded by friends and fellow artisans, yet his gaze often wandered, seeking the one person who had become a trusted companion in the bustling halls of Eregion.

𖢻 That person was you. As much as Celebrimbor’s intellect and skills had earned him the admiration of his peers, it was your presence that often kept him grounded, your quiet understanding of his passions, and your ability to bring him out of his normally reserved shell. The two of you had shared many quiet conversations over the years, and tonight, amid the joyous chaos of the festival, he found himself enjoying your company more than ever before. You were seated nearby, your laughter mingling with the music, your fingers tracing the rim of your wine glass as you gazed at the stars above. The sweet fragrance of the wine seemed to have emboldened you, and in a burst of playful spontaneity, you found yourself standing and walking toward Celebrimbor, your steps light but purposeful.

𖢻 Celebrimbor, distracted by the latest compliment he received on his work, didn’t notice your approach until you were right in front of him. There was a spark in your eyes, something mischievous yet tender. Before he could speak, before he could register the change in the air, you leaned forward and placed a daring kiss upon his lips. For a moment, Celebrimbor was frozen—his sharp mind scrambling to process the suddenness of it. The warmth of the wine coursed through his veins, making his normally reserved nature give way to a flicker of surprise and confusion. His breath caught in his throat, his usual poise slipping just for a second. The kiss was brief, but the moment it lingered was enough to disorient him.

𖢻 You pulled away, your expression a mixture of amusement and affection, but also a bit of uncertainty, as if unsure how the Lord of Eregion would respond. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated your face, but your presence felt even brighter than any light in the night. Celebrimbor’s pale cheeks flushed slightly, his normally composed demeanor momentarily undone. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked into your eyes, trying to find the words, yet they eluded him. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his usual poise, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him. “Y-you… do not…” He started, but the words failed him. He swallowed hard, his heart racing unexpectedly fast. The usually controlled, calculating elf felt a flutter of something unfamiliar in his chest. “I… I did not expect such a… sudden gesture.” He took a slow, measured breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded you, the glint of stars reflected in their depths. “You, my friend, are a mystery to me,” he continued, his voice soft, yet laced with the slight tension of the unknown. “But I am not entirely displeased.”

𖢻 Celebrimbor’s lips curled upward, just slightly. His sharp intellect and noble demeanor had not prepared him for the spontaneity of the kiss, but beneath his surprise, there was an undeniable flicker of something warmer—appreciation, perhaps. There was no arrogance or harshness in his voice; if anything, the playful vulnerability that had overtaken him made him seem more human than ever before. “Though,” he said, with a small smile, “I must confess, I do not know how to best respond to such a bold act. Perhaps another kiss would clear my head… or at least make sense of this wine-soaked confusion.”

𖢻 For the first time that night, Celebrimbor seemed a little less like the distant, meticulous lord of Eregion and a little more like the young, unsure elf who had once dreamed of creating a world of beauty and peace. He waited, almost expectantly, for your next move, his eyes softening with a trust that came with the quiet understanding you two had shared over the years. He was no longer concerned with the delicate craft of his latest works or the praise of his fellow Elves. All his attention was now focused on you, the one who had surprised him with a kiss, and in that moment, Celebrimbor realized there was a different kind of art to be found in the spaces between two hearts.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

I have this hc that Sauron’s obsession with vanity led him to spend years studying Maedhros’ features and trying to emulate them. When he couldn’t get it right, the proportions always a little off, red hair never deep enough, he took his anger out on Mae and when that option was gone, tried to pull from others also renown for their beauty instead.

Fast forward a few centuries and turns out all that work wasn’t entirely useless. And Sauron knows exactly what to do with the features he was able to recreate. Weaving them into his new face, the line of Maitimo’s smile, the set of his eyebrows, the crease of his eyes, he puts just enough to be familiar, but not enough to set off any alarms.

Celebrimbor doesn’t know *why* he trusts Annatar so easily, just that he’s got a good feeling about him. The Maia reminds him of someone he can’t quite put a finger on, but it’s a good association and he doesn’t think on it too deeply. Grows to call him a brother in all but blood.

Of course we all know how that ends. And the last thing Celebrimbor sees is his eldest Uncle’s smile, a mockery of the warmth it should hold as Sauron finally ends his torture.

(Elrond, on the other hand, never saw Maitimo who used to laugh easily and play silly games with children. Only grim Maedhros. The gentle features Sauron steals are alien to him. A stranger with too many familiar features he can’t quite place, twisted the wrong way, leaving him deeply unsettled. It’s why he immediately tells Gil Galad to send Annatar away, hiding trembling hands in his sleeves.)

[tathrin]

Once again laughing at the idea of how DISTRAUGHT Celebrimbor would be post-reembodiment to discover that Gimli, only dwarf to ever come to the Undying Lands, skilled craftsman and silver-tongued elf-charmer and basically Celebrimbor's new favorite living person in all Middle-earth starting from about ten minutes after he gets off that boat...

That Gimli is married to this absolute disaster of a Wood-elf, who has no smith-craft at all and frankly doesn't even know which end of an iron bar to grab when he is in the forge (hint, Legolas: it's the one that isn't going to burn your skin off you moron!) and is just as likely to trip on his own tongue as to say something actually eloquent and just...

Celebrimbor is distressed, okay. Legolas is a PROBLEM.

And he can't even talk to his best friend about it, because Gimli is the one in love with this idiot! wtffffff! why? HOW!?

Why in the hell isn't Narvi here. Narvi would understand.

[mahtariel-of-himring]

Silm Headcanon:

Battle braids were common amongst the Noldor when they first arrived in Beleriand. The tradition of braids had transitioned from Valinorian family, friendship or marriage braids into ones for battle. New styles were invented and quickly spread across the Noldorian community.

The length, placement, thickness and beads that were added or not added told stories of survival and hardship throughout time.

The most common ones were the following:

First battle braids, a simple three strand braid with a black bead marking that an elf had spilled their first black blood.

Partaker braids, for different big battles that simply marked a soldier as having been apart of said fight.

Fealty braids, openly showing who one’s loyalty lies with.

And at last survivors braids, these were worn by those who survived any type of imprisonment by dark creatures, there was also a more complicated version of this braid for former thralls of Angband.

There were also very rare braids which brought the wearer great respect and honor if an elven warrior wore said braid in their hair.

One of the rarest and most admired was the braid marking the survival of an encounter with Sauron, which on its own was feat enough.

It was a complicated four too five thread braid with multiple smaller or larger beads depending on the length or severity of the meeting.

Another was the one worn by Balrog slayers. This braid however only really surfaced after the first age when Glorfindel returned from Valinor since there were no surviving Balrog slayers to wear it.

One of the few braids that stayed the same from Valinor to Beleriand was the braid of the High King. Having only ever been worn by Finwë, Fëanor, Maedhros, Fingolfin, Fingon and Turgon.

Gil-Galad did not continue this tradition due to his decent from the house of Finarfin who‘s braiding traditions, just as many other elven houses, had faded over the years.

But since braids were mainly worn by the first to arrive in Beleriand after the flight of the Noldor, therefore fëanorians and their loyalists over time battle braids became a symbol of their house which quickly resulted and a fast decline of elven battle braids being seen on daily basis.

After the second and third kinslaying they had nearly completely disappeared in all but those still loyal to the remaining two son‘s of Fëanor and the son‘s themselves.

There were also unique braid, only ever worn by one person.

One of those was Maedhros‘ side braid.

A simple but elegant side braid on his left with no beads or pearls or any decorations whatsoever.

He wore it always after his rescue from the cliffs of Thangorodrim.

This braid was neatly kept, closly against his skull and tightly braided.

The braid of Maedhros became a symbol for the Lord of Himring and only ever associated with him and his qualities.

His formidable talent as a warlord, his unchallenged title as the greatest and fiercest swordsman of Beleriand, his fëanorian heritage and his standing as leader of the followers of house Fëanor.

The orcs, goblins, werewolves and evil men began to fear the braid of the red haired elf and his name became even more devastating to them than it already was.

After Maedhros died none dared ever wear his braid, for it stood for a fury no one dared claim as their own.

The centuries went by and braids got fewer and fewer. The second age was nearly at its end and the war against Sauron in full go.

But then came the day on which Sauron’s forces marched with Celebrimbor‘s dead body used as a flag.

And the infamous fury of the Lord of Himring was set ablaze in another, one who deemed himself close to the deceased elf to this day.

Elrond.

When he saw his beloved cousin’s body, defaced and dishonored that fire his foster father had carried was lit within him, and something snapped.

The next day the entire army was in shock and disbelief as their King‘s herald walked onto the battlefield wearing said infamous side braid, paired with a set of armor made by Celebrimbor, and an ear cuff also known for having once belonged to Maedhros.

That day the orcs of Sauron learned to fear the fury of the half elf, for they had already forgotten what true Noldorian spirit was. Elrond cut them down one by one, killing hundreds of orcs by himself and struck terror into the hearts of his enemies as they watched their companions fall to his blade.

Elrond didn’t stop until nearly all orcs were either dead or had fled from his wrath.

Then he went to find his cousins body. He freed him from the wooden pole he had been bound to and carried him away. Far off into nature, away from Lindon and Eregion, far away from all they once knew and laid him to rest in a peaceful spot where many flowers grew and old trees surrounded them.

To this day Lord Elrond visits his cousin often, for his final resting place is no far from Imladris, and to this day he wears the braid once associated with Maedhros, and he would do so until his arrival in Valinor.

[thesummerestsolstice]

I've always wondered what the latter generation Finweans thought of the Doom of the Noldor. Most of them lived through the horrors of the First Age, suffered alongside their parents, uncles, etc even though none of them were involved with the kinslaying– hell, most of them probably weren't even alive. How do you come to terms with the fact that you are paying for the crimes of your relatives? That you were, before you were even born, doomed to suffering and death?

Did Celebrimbor think his father deserved to be slain for what he'd done during the kinslayings? Did he think he deserved it for being a kinslayer's son?

What did Galadriel think when she was cast out, even though she'd fought in defense of the Teleri? Did she ever resent the Valar for refusing to let her back for so long? Did she feel like her actions were justified, right until the end?

How about Idril? Did she think her mother's death was fair pennance for the Noldor's disobidience and the actions of her uncle Fingon? Did she ever wonder why it had to be Elenwe who suffered, when neither her nor Turgon had any part in the murder?

Earendil? He was no kinslayer, and neither was his mother or his grandfather, but the Doom came for him and Gondolin anyways. Did he resent the Valar for that? Did he resent them for leaving Middle-Earth to suffer?

Elrond? No doubt he saw, far more viscerally, exactly what unnumbered tears looked like when he stayed with the Feanorians. Did he think it was a fair punishment? Did he think his own pain was acceptable collateral damage? Did he think all of Middle-Earth was acceptable collapteral damage?

When Gil-Galad turned Annatar away from Lindon, did he do it because he suspected Annatar wasn't a true emmisary of the Valar? Or did he just not want to speak to a representative of those who had damned his people for something many of them never did?

[thatlittlered]

rings of power men | tropes

warning(s): light TROP spoilers, gn!reader used throughout

author's note: most of these will be turned into actual fics :)

-.-.-

Elrond + friends to lovers

GIF by @fukutomichi

As kind as summer, as gentle as the soft rays of sun upon your faces whilst you sit in each other's company and he is weaving, unbeknownst to you, tales of your wit and beauty in his mind; poems he would never dare show you. It was love long before either of you knew what to call it.

Gil-galad + opposites attract

GIF by @fukutomichi

Born and raised the son of kings, Gil-galad has known nothing but duty during his lifetime. A King neither ventures, nor tries his hand at passing affections, and yet the curse of a still beating heart inevitably finds him when his lieutenant and trusted friend Círdan is apprenticed by a lovely lowly elf.

Celebrimbor + soulmates

GIF by @dailyflicks

It is instant, absolute. As if the two of you were born a mystical creature, bearing two faces, four arms and four legs, until the Valar separated you and forced you to spend eternity searching for your other half. In the worst of times and the most unlikely of places, the search has come to cease. Alas, so has the time of peace.

Arondir + forbidden love

GIF by @lousolversons

The Silvan elf comes to respect the race of men for what they are during his time in the Southlands and whilst he dare not admit it, it does pertain with knowing you. It is hard to care for the hateful gazes of villagers when your own gaze is so tender under the moonlight, your hands cold and decisive when you touch him here where no one can hear or see. Though he has not tasted mortality, it must taste like you and the urgency you kiss him with, as if in fear the sun might never rise again.

Elendil + forbidden love, age gap

GIF by @frodo-sam

This man was born to be your dutiful protector, loyal like no other and sworn to serve you as his ruler with everything he has. Loyalty and love tend to melt into each other, merge so that it is impossible to tell them apart. It is a tormenting, silent agreement that neither of you may speak on these feelings and yet, it... overwhelms.

Valandil + childhood sweethearts

GIF by @fukutomichi

To know and love Valandil comes as easy as breathing air. You have been doing both for just as long, you think. Childish adoration blossoms in time until your souls are tethered and he will commit his life to earning rank and making it official, from the streets of Númenor to the edge of the world, where he hopes to travel with you.

Isildur + love triangle, second chance

GIF by @vidalharkness

Isildur has always held a deep admiration for you, a childish infatuation even, but your bond with Valandil always comes before all and he happily accepts things as they are for a long time. Friendship is of equal, if not grander, worth and he considers both of you his dear friends above all. Until Valandil is killed, that is. The love each of you have for him and each other perseveres until grief threatens to swallow you whole. On the precipice of desperation, a teary kiss is meant to bring comfort. Yes, of course. That is what this must be.

-.-.-

bonus:

Adar + enemies to lovers

GIF by @anthemias

Sauron saw in you every weakness, every earthly, pathetic desire to be appreciated and loved when everyone and everything has been cruelly ripped from you. To be part of something larger than the pain eating away at your chest until your days in Middle Earth are over and you can find refuge in the arms of those who unlike you, gave their lives for a greater cause. He saw and took full advantage. Adar sees it now too when he looks at you; the agony of knowing you have played into the hands of evil itself just as he has. There is always a sliver of affection in understanding another, is there not?

[poetryvampire]

✨️trop men and if they could get you off based mostly on vibes ✨️

💕Now to level the playing field let's give a simple y/n on if they could get the job done during your first time together and the overall mood of the evening. Mildly nsfw (I'm not gonna get too detailed...unless 👀)

Adar💀 Yes. Woof, not to get too crass right off the bat but daddy is the name he earned so yes absolutely. Also brace yourself it will be kinkier than you think and it will awaken something in you. And it would start off painfully slow just easing you into it lightly. Seems like a great opportunity to try things you've been curious about but beware you're getting into like five kinks that haven't even crossed you mind before. One minute you're having a romantic candle lit dinner then Bam youre wearing a chain collar with his name on it.

Elrond 😇 Oh, god bless. No. Baby I'm sorry but no. That being said it would still be a great time with really positive vibes. But Elrond would get too in his own head thinking about options and the best 'plan of attack' to actually deliver. Plus he would play it super safe not wanting to off put you in anyway and thus would kill the passion a bit. Still would be the biggest sweetheart and over all give you a fun time. (Give him time to build his confidence though lotr Elrond Fucks for sure)

Halbrand 🐶 LISTEN Listen listen...No. Hear me out. I just-I feel it in my blood that this guy will rizz you so hard and talk such a big game and than when he time comes it's just ok at best. Like he's made at least one person come before and thinks he has cracked the code. Still his heart's (seemingly) in the right place and its pretty romantic over all. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Annatar 🐱 Yes. And it's amazing but the vibes are terrible. He gets way too intense too fast. He's the kind of guy to say some really weird shit during. Like not even anything dirty just waxing poetic about how you're part of each now and the bond of your bodies is inescapable even in death. And he waaay into talking about how you belong to him now and you're just like?? Is he just talking crazy in the heat of the moment or ?? Also no aftercare and he's 100% gone when you wake up.

Arondir 🏹 Yes. And it's Good but not as romantic as you were hoping. He's into you but Arondir def doesn't realize what a catch he is and is surprised that you're so here for him. Also buddy's got a lot going on so he's still gonna be pretty guarded emotionally. Still he's extremely respectful and such a good kisser like he's got your head spinning and you've barely started.

Elendil 🗡 No. But he tries hard and it's a great time. He's kinda got that big puppy Halbrand thing going on but like genuine. Def more into you than you are him. Elendil will rizz you with care. Pays very close attention to what you like/want. Even if it doesnt happen he's fine with talking about it, even makes a few light jokes at his expense. He's terribly good at putting you at ease. By the end of the night you're more smitten than you first thought.

Celebrimbor 💍 Yes. Are you kidding me?We're talking mastery, we're talking attentiveness, we're talking about a very smitten old man that's going to court you with his whole heart. The vibes are impeccable and he's going to make it known that taking care of you is his top priority. Additionally I can't explain why but you know this man's head game is god tier.

Gil Galad 🏵 Yes. Don't even get me started on how this man is gonna rock your world. The high king is a big guy so it's go big or go home when it comes to love and affection. He doesn't allow himself to pursue romance often but when he does he goes hard. In terms of the act itself and the amount of extravagance and detail he'd put into wooing you. Plus cmon you know he's stressed and pent up as hell. Brace yourself for being be absolutely worshipped All night. You're in for a wicked case of jelly legs and you're not going anywhere.

[queenmeriadoc]

NSFW:

He definitely had you and him “christened ” the new forge by fucking in it.

OMG I just thot about this: Husband!Brimby

Imagine this?????? HCs?

I'm sorry this took so long and it turned out a little bit short...🙏❤️ Here are some reader headcanons for Husband!Brimby:

SFW:

for your 1st anniversary he made you a necklace with a beautiful pendant that you wear every day

he is a total romantic and each anniversary, he takes you to a different romantic spot and tells you how much he loves you and what he loves about you

he makes you breakfast in bed

NSFW:

he likes to switch things up and really likes it when you take the lead and take what you need

but he also likes to spontaneously fuck on the chaise in his workshop when you visit him❤️

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

I love the idea of Gil-Galad just being A Guy while Elrond and Celebrimbor are insane, actually.

Consider;

Elrond, so pissed that the indoor plants are rattling: Fuck That Courtier 👁️⭐️🗡️

Gil-Galad, wondering if he can still eat his salad if it’s sprouted ominous flowers: Yeah, what a bitch.

And

Celebrimbor, setting a jar on Gil-Galad’s desk: I have discovered a new chemical 😁

The Chemical™️: *eats through the jar, eats through Gil-Galad’s desk, sizzling as it tries to eat through the stone flooring*

Gil-Galad, seeing an Opportunity: can you move the jar a little to the left? That’s where the complaints from Lord Oropher are stacked.

Love the idea of Gil being a regular dude while his alleged cousins are the resident eldritch horror and the mad scientist next door.

[doodle-pops]

Alright big BIG question!

Which elves are more likely to fall for a mortal lover and why in your opinion?

I really like your blog by the way! 😃

A/N: I love you for liking my blog 😘. Could have sworn I had an ask like this done before...

Falls for you regardless of your mortality because love is love and all they wish to do is be in your presence…

— Maglor, Celebrimbor, Fingon, Argon, AEGNOR (we all knew this), Galdor, Glorfindel, Rog, Beleg, Elladan, Elrohir, Gil-Galad

Falls but (struggles a bit) has to come to terms with your mortality, and the idea of suffering an endless heartbreaking form of pain scares them, knowing one day you will leave and never reunite…

— Caranthir, Finrod, Ecthelion, Elrond (and I solely believe that he would be frightened because of all the people he loved and easily lost, he doesn’t want to bear the pain of your death)

[earthlybeam]

Request by @stormchaser819

how would the elves react to this?

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Celebrimbor, Glrofindel, Celeborn Versions are below.

three different versions here below

For Celebrimbor

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

𖤓 Caught in the Fires of a Siege During an attack on a stronghold, Glorfindel is trapped in the flames while ensuring others escape. The reader/you braves the inferno to pull him out just before the structure collapses.

𖤓 The air around you was thick with smoke, acrid and stinging, as the great stronghold was consumed by chaos. War had come, and the battle raged across every inch of the fortress. The sound of clashing swords, the war cries of the enemies, and the crackling of the inferno that slowly devoured the buildings mixed in a cacophony of terror. Yet through it all, one figure stood resolute—Glorfindel. Amid the carnage and confusion, his golden form seemed like a beacon in the night. He was everywhere, commanding soldiers with precision and urging the civilians to flee. His voice was calm yet powerful, cutting through the madness like the edge of a blade. Even now, though his once-gleaming armor was tarnished with soot and ash, he radiated an otherworldly presence, his golden hair still catching the dim light of the fire.

𖤓 His movements were graceful but urgent, like an ancient being who had witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, yet was never deterred by the weight of his burdens. As he rallied those around him, you couldn’t help but notice the way the flames danced around him, almost as if they respected him, parting just enough to let him pass. But then, the earth trembled beneath your feet, and the sharp crack of stone and wood splitting echoed through the war zone. You turned just in time to see it—a massive pillar, weakened by the assault, now crumbling from the ceiling above Glorfindel.

𖤓 “Glorfindel!” you shouted, though your voice was swallowed by the roar of flames and battle cries. His back was turned, and he was so focused on aiding his soldiers, unaware of the impending disaster that loomed just behind him. Time seemed to stretch. You could hear the furious crackle of the fire as it consumed everything in its path, the sounds of men shouting in desperation, the clash of steel, and the unmistakable noise of the falling pillar. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest as you assessed the distance—there was no time. You couldn’t think; you could only act.

𖤓 Without a second thought, you sprinted through the smoke, weaving between scattered wreckage and fallen soldiers. The heat was unbearable, the air thick with smoke that made it almost impossible to see. But your focus remained only on one thing—Glorfindel. With all your strength, you launched yourself forward, your body slamming into his just as the pillar began its descent. The force of the impact sent him sprawling to the ground, but you held him fast, your grip unwavering as you dragged him to safety. The pillar crashed just a mere breath away, sending tremors through the ground, a thunderous sound that nearly drowned out everything else. Dust and debris filled the air, choking the both of you, as you pulled him with all your might into the shadow of a nearby wall. Every muscle screamed in protest, but you didn’t stop until the danger had passed.

𖤓 Panting, you both collapsed into the blackened earth, the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh in the air. The fire roared behind you, but for a moment, there was silence. Glorfindel lay there for a long moment, the weight of the near-death experience settling over him. His golden eyes, which were usually filled with strength and unwavering determination, were now wide with a rare emotion—shock. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, eyes flicking over to you with an expression that was part disbelief, part awe. “Why… why did you risk your life for me?” His voice was softer than usual, a tremor in it that you had never heard before. He pushed himself up, wincing as the movement aggravated his wounds, his fingers brushing over a scorch mark on his breastplate. The armor had protected him, but it was clear that the fire had left its mark, even if just a bruise on his soul.

𖤓 You met his gaze, your heart pounding, feeling the weight of his words. “Because it was the right thing to do,” you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I couldn’t just let you die here.” A pause. His eyes softened as he studied you, his usual calm composure slowly returning, but something remained unspoken in his expression. He didn’t speak immediately, instead letting his gaze linger on you, searching your face as if to understand the depths of your sacrifice. “Thank you,” he said quietly, the words more profound than any battle cry or speech. “I would have been lost without you.” His voice held a rawness that you hadn’t expected, and it struck a chord deep within you.

𖤓 His gratitude—deep, unwavering—was not one of the common, polite thanks you were used to hearing. No, this was something more. It was the expression of a soul who had nearly lost everything, only to be saved by someone they had not expected to come. You both sat in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of battle still echoing through the stronghold. The fire continued to rage behind you, but for now, there was a strange peace in the air. Glorfindel looked at you, his face finally softening into a smile. It was faint but genuine, the kind that reached his eyes and made them shine brighter than the flames around you. “You have my gratitude, beyond words.” His hand reached for your shoulder, squeezing it briefly. The simple act was almost too much, a silent gesture that conveyed more than words ever could.

𖤓 He looked down for a moment, his golden hair falling in front of his face as he collected himself. When he raised his head again, you could see the quiet vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet recognition of the connection between you two. “You risked your life not for duty, but for me.” He spoke slowly, the words weighted. “Few would do that… even fewer would survive to say it.” You could feel his words settle in your chest, warming you as he gave you a rare, unguarded look—one that revealed just how much your actions had affected him. In the midst of this chaos, in the midst of war and fire and death, Glorfindel—brave, noble Glorfindel—had been moved. And that meant more than anything. The two of you sat there for a long time, the world around you still burning, but in that fleeting moment, everything else faded. There was only the bond forged between you in the face of death—a bond that would never be broken, no matter what else happened in the battle to come.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

𖣂 Ambushed by Spies in Lothlórien Enemies infiltrate Lothlórien, ambushing Celeborn during a quiet moment. The reader/you intercepts the attack just in time, defeating the spies and ensuring Celeborn’s safety.

𖣂 It was a rare moment of quiet in Lothlórien. The sun filtered through the dense canopy of golden leaves, casting dappled light across the forest floor. Celeborn stood beneath a towering mallorn tree, his gaze drifting upward to the shimmering boughs, where the ancient tree’s leaves glinted like precious metal in the sunlight. The air was still, the only sound the gentle rustling of the leaves and the distant song of birds in the lofty heights. Here, in this sacred space, Lothlórien’s tranquility had always been a refuge for the Lord of the Golden Wood. For a fleeting moment, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the pulse of the forest—the soft, eternal rhythm of the place he had protected for so long. A moment of peace, far from the shadows of war and the pressing dangers of the world outside. But in such a sacred space, peace was always fragile.

𖣂 As Celeborn stood, deep in thought, the faintest sound reached his ears—so subtle it could have been the rustling of the trees. But the air had changed, the serenity replaced with the faintest sense of tension. His eyes snapped open, and for an instant, the calm demeanor that so often defined him faltered. There were no immediate signs of danger, but Celeborn’s instincts were honed by centuries of experience. He could feel it—a disturbance in the natural order, like a ripple in still waters. Before he could move, the first of the intruders made their move, darting from the underbrush with a speed borne of desperation. In an instant, Celeborn was surrounded. Two more spies emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and precise as they encircled him, weapons drawn, aiming for the Elven lord’s unprotected back.

𖣂 The Lord of Lothlórien stood motionless, his expression one of calm composure, but within him, the old warrior stirred. He would not fall easily, not in his realm. Yet, even as the enemies advanced, Celeborn’s posture remained fluid, almost too serene. His hands rested lightly at his sides, his attention on them—but he did not yet act. The ambush was well-planned, but Celeborn had lived through many battles and survived greater threats. However, he had no desire to engage in unnecessary violence, especially not when the sanctuary of his realm was at stake. It was then that the first sign of intervention came, a blur of motion from the corner of his eye.

𖣂 You, ever watchful, had been nearby—moving through the trees, perhaps scouting or simply enjoying the stillness of the Wood. You had sensed the shift in the air as Celeborn had. And now, as the spies drew closer, you were there, as silent as the shadows themselves, stepping between Celeborn and his would-be assailants with the precision of someone who knew the terrain as well as their own skin. The first spy lunged at Celeborn, aiming a dagger at his vulnerable side. But before the strike could land, your blade intercepted, the sharp steel meeting the enemy’s weapon with a metallic ring. The force of the clash caused the spy to stagger back, surprise flashing in their eyes.

𖣂 With swift precision, you dispatched the first spy, your movements fluid and practiced. You spun, knocking another would-be assailant off balance before swiftly disarming him. The third spy, realizing that their ambush had been thwarted, turned to flee, but you were quicker—closing the distance between you with a few rapid steps, your blade a blur. Within moments, the threat was neutralized, the forest now eerily silent once more. Celeborn had not moved a step. His gaze, steady and unflinching, had remained on the spies the entire time, but it was not in anger or fear—it was an expression of quiet appreciation. His calm demeanor had not wavered, even as the danger had passed in the blink of an eye.

𖣂 The soft rustle of your movements settling back into place was the only sound that remained. Celeborn turned to face you, his normally reserved expression now a gentle, knowing smile. He did not rush to speak, but when he did, his voice was low and filled with quiet gratitude. “You have my thanks, my friend,” he said, his voice rich with both reverence and admiration. “Your timing was flawless, and your skill unparalleled. Lothlórien’s safety is not often threatened in such a manner, but it seems I have been fortunate today to have someone as capable as you at my side.”

𖣂 His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and in them, there was something more than just gratitude—something deeper. Celeborn, though ever gracious, was not one to offer praise lightly. He had seen many warriors in his long life, and yet something about your actions had moved him. His admiration for you was not just for the skill with which you had dispatched the enemies, but for the loyalty and courage that had driven you to act. He took a step closer, his movements dignified but unhurried. “You honor me, and the realm of Lothlórien, with your presence. Should the need ever arise, know that I would trust no other to watch over this Wood.”

𖣂 There was a quiet humility in his words, a recognition that although he was the lord of Lothlórien, in this moment, his safety had been secured not by his own hand but by yours. And that, in itself, was a rare and deeply appreciated gift. Celeborn stood still, composed as ever, yet there was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, the kind of warmth that only someone who had witnessed countless dangers and lived through untold years of solitude could truly appreciate. You had proven yourself, and in doing so, you had earned not only his gratitude but his trust. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady but sincere. “You have my deepest respect.”

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finrod and Maedhros in the halls or post embodiment talking about Sauron.

Not about the torture or the agony they went through, more like gossiping on how much of a peacock he was, strutting around and bragging about how beautiful he is.

If you came across them in the street you’d think they’re talking about one of those overdressed Tirion nobles, but then you hear “I preferred his torture to his speeches because dear Eru those were a whole new level of pain-“

“Heard all of two before being mauled. Definitely preferred the werewolf.”

Celebrimbor sometimes joins these sessions but he’s got the additional years of having known Annatar and it’s therapeutic to talk about how self absorbed he was to people who really understand. Safe to say Maedhros and Finrod sombrely commiserate the kid on dealing with that for centuries.

“How did you two become friends??”

“I think his vanity numbed my brain.”

“That’s fair.”

[tathrin]

A thought on Elves and Dwarves (as inspired by my roommate and I and the one place where our brains really don't line up):

Elves with perfect memories, who know exactly where they put that thingamajig even when they last set it down twenty years ago, and thus can always find whatever it is they're looking for amidst what looks like total disarray to everybody else.

Dwarves with perfectly ordered spatial awareness, who are so accustomed to the layout of their workshop or forge that they can lay their hands on any tool in there without even looking, and always set everything back where it belongs out of ingrained habit.

Elves who never ever put things back where they belong, because "put that away neatly so you can find it again" is simply not a concept that exists in elvish minds, because it doesn't need to.

Dwarves who will look right past the thing they're looking for if it's not where it belongs, because it's not where it belongs, why isn't it where it belongs, where did you put it you daft elf...?

Elves and Dwarves in the smithies of Ost-in-Edhil, ready to go to war over the arrangement of their tools, and Celebrimbor on the brink of tears desperately trying to keep the peace here that he never managed to in Nargothrond.

(alt: could easily be done the other way around too, with elves always putting things away because then the thing is always where it's supposed to be, even twenty years later, so you can find it again, because they have so many more important things to hold in their memories than where they last put down their favorite hammer, and after a few hundred years you fall into the habit of expecting things to be where they belong so you don't even look to find them somewhere else; and dwarves who have such an innate sense of their tools and their workspace that they don't need to have "proper places" to put things away, because of course they remember where they put their hammer, what kind of a question is that, can't you just feel where your hammer is wtf???)

[mahtariel-of-himring]

When Elrond stepped upon the ship that was to take him, Galadriel, Gandalf, Bilbo, Frodo and a few others to Valinor he was nervous. So long had imagined what it might be like, and for some time even questioned if he would ever sail.

But here he was, stood upon their ship with the undying lands finally in sight after months of sailing across the unending ocean. He might be a mariners son but he certainly had no great love for boats, he didn’t have a problem with them, but the knowledge of not having ground beneath his feet still made him uneasy.

At their arrival many awaited them, to welcome the newcomers into the blessed lands.

High King Arafinwë, in Middle Earth better known as Finarfin, and his other children had come to welcome Galadriel.

Gandalf reunited with some old Maia friends of his and then escorted the hobbits that had joined them to a nice little cottage for them to spend their days in.

He himself recognized many of the faces in the small crowd. First he spotted Gil-Galad, who welcomed him with open arms. Then his beloved Celebrian, who pulled him into a hug the moment he saw her, she was much better now.

A few soldiers of Rivendell were there as well, happy to see their Lord again.

Elrond ended up settling in Tirion with all the others and moved into Celebrian‘s home. It was a nice house with a good view and easy access to the marked and other nearby shops and market places.

Tirion was flawless. The white towers with their pointy roofs, the elegant guards with their silver spears, the marked place with its various stalls and merchants.

He met many of his ancestors, some he got along with and some he didn’t.

The first he met was Turgon, it took half an hour for them to end up in an argument about the moralities of handling delicate situations within one‘s own city and when to help those in need.

Luckily his second meeting went much better. His great grandfather, Fingolfin, was much more sensible and they got along quickly due to their shared knowledge on leadership and experience of hardships throughout their lives. Though the late High King did comment to his wife Anairë later about how he was sure he‘d bite his teeth out on Elrond eventually, comparing his stubbornness to someone else’s.

When he at last met Fingon it took the elf exactly five minutes to ask if he had been raised by Maedhros. To this day Elrond didn’t understand how he did it, for he himself wasn’t aware of the small details. Like how he did his hair exactly like the fëanorian had or that he held himself with something of Valinorian regalness he definitely didn’t pick up in Lindon.

But as time went on Elrond began to realize something.

Tirion was truly perfect.

Too perfect.

Everyone seemed to have collectively decided to ignore any pains and hardships experienced in Middle Earth or Beleriand and live their lives as if everything was perfectly fine.

When bringing this up to Gil-Galad he just said that they preferred it that way, even if it wasn’t perfect, not everyone had made the journey and seen war, and those who didn’t weren’t comfortable of discussing or displaying it.

The more time Elrond spend in the white city the lonelier he felt. It seemed as if he was the only one prepared to speak of or even mention anything of the things that happened to so many of them.

The more he realized that the more he felt out of place.

Because he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it actually.

He had gone through things most couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares and had seen horrors he wished he could forget.

He had seen his city attacked, had been kidnapped, even though that did turn out positively in the end. Had witnessed war and bloodshed from young on, had served as Herald and later taken on the mantel of Lord. He had seen so much that he just couldn’t ignore.

So one day he mounted his horse and rode out of Tirion. He didn’t have a destination or any idea where he was going but he just kept riding until he was exhausted.

When he looked up he saw a large city with high towers, but no pointy roofs were atop them, instead there stood guards. The walls weren’t made of white stone and marble but steadfast and resistant cobblestone and tall pillars.

The front guards let him in after he explained his situation, and the moment he stepped through those gates it was as if he had entered another world. No excessive jewelry was worn, but rather detailed braids and head dresses or simple circlets.

Scars of all types were openly portrayed instead of covered up and hidden as if they were sometimes to be ashamed of.

Elrond saw elves with walking sticks and missing limbs and crippled bodies. They were warriors, they were survivors, they were the ugly but real truth, and it felt so relieving too see them.

He had no idea where he had ended up in, but he already knew it was much better than Tirion.

No one was putting on a fake mask of perfection and instead just acted as they truly were.

Elrond walked through the streets, talked with some of the locals and listened to their stories.

He heard everything from ex soldiers to healers like him to guards and even some escaped thralls of Angband.

It was so much better than the flawlessly perfect white city. It wasn’t fake.

Elrond ended up in what seemed to be a throne room. At the end of it stood a elf, dressed in a long robe, his hair littered with many braids and a elegant silver hammer in hand.

His eyes were of piercing grey and his hair as black as the night, but his gaze familiarly gentle.

Elrond knew before he spoke.

Elrond knew before he looked up.

Elrond knew before he stepped closer.

Elrond knew before he even acknowledged him.

He knew where he was, and he knew he would stay.

[thesummerestsolstice]

How the elves react to Elrond getting sick:

Maedhros & Maglor: Absolutely freak out. Assume Elrond is dying and that the Doom of Feanor's house has finally caught up to them. Maedhros insists he says in bed and makes him soup. Maglor starts planning a lament for his funeral. (He has a cold)

Gil-Galad: Tries to convince Elrond to rest. Always fails. Has resorted to getting Elrond a bed desk so he can do his work while he rests. Frequently checks up on him to make sure he's alright or to bring him little gifts to make him feel better.

Erestor: Also half-elven, so gets it. Inevitably gets sick whenever Elrond does because he refuses to stay away. They always end up sick together, but they are together, and that means something.

Celebrimbor: Has read multiple books on human anatomy for the sake of his cousins (Erestor, son of Caranthir included). Theoretically understands how to care for someone who is ill. *Checks notes* according to this, if I give you chicken soup every day for a week it will cure your *checks notes again* pneumonia. He's trying his best.

Galadriel: Does not understand human or half-elven biology very well. Has taken Elrond on a ten mile hike in the snow when he was getting over a cough. Elrond's Feanorian followers have never forgiven her for it.

Celebrian: I would say she uses Elrond being sick as an excuse for them to stay in bed and cuddle, but let's be honest, she doesn't need an excuse for that. Knows he can take care of himself, and is a lot more Normal about it than everyone else on this list. Elrond loves her very much.

Glorfindel: Fully willing to pick up Elrond (or Erestor) and take them back to bed so they rest. Takes his duty to protect his lord very seriously. A very comfortable pillow for sick half-elves.

Lindir: Absolutely freaks out. You thought his anxiety about the dwarves was bad?? Elrond always has to calm him down and assure Lindir that is, in fact, not about to die. He does sometimes ask Lindir to play for him when he's ill though.

[junk-whunk-punk]

Silvergifting FINALLY but there's healthy ship of two silly villains

I LUV different interpretations of silvergifting (especially if they have like uhh happy end ok??) and AS I SAID MANY TIMES BEFORE my fav slvrgftng is one with dark!Tyelpe though he's not actually dark! he's just moved to Mordor to be, uh, ✨the Lieutenant of the Dark Lord Sauron himsef✨ ooomggg girl😏 (well sounds like bdsm nickname)

My second fav is dumb but delicious – Mordor + Eregion = Moregion. SKGKEKGKDKVKSLFLDRLLSLFLDS HELP ok why not (gwaith-i-mirdain and orcs die in cry but nobody asked them bc their rulers are kinda bitches and ama bitch too)

Look at these doodles of my favs. And their microelf Narion (prev. Nariel). I must draw and tell more about this cub. I know. Let's wait for it together. mrrmrr😌