#celebrimbor headcanons

[earthlybeam]

Requested by @morganas-pendragons

The elves reacting to the different types of kisses (forehead, cheek, jaw, wrist elven ear, nose, shoulder, lips...)

Celebrimbor version below. enjoy Gurlie as you love Celebrimbor 😉❤️‍🔥🫶✨ (I’m still working on Gil-galad one)

💍𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻

Forehead Kiss

The forge had grown quiet, the rhythmic clanging of metal replaced by the soft crackle of embers in the hearth. Celebrimbor sat on a low bench near the fire, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. His long fingers, so skilled and steady, were now laced together tightly, betraying the weight of his unspoken thoughts. Shadows played across his face, accentuating the lines of exhaustion etched into his features.

You approached him silently, your footsteps muffled against the stone floor, and rested your hand gently on his arm. He didn’t move at first, lost in the labyrinth of his mind, but when you stepped in front of him, his silver eyes lifted to meet yours. There was a flicker of weariness in them, mixed with a quiet gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words.

Without speaking, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger just long enough to feel his tension ease beneath the touch. His breath hitched softly, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the moment. He leaned into you, resting his brow against your chest, and his hands rose instinctively. One cupped your face, his calloused thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek, while the other settled on your shoulder with a grounding weight.

“You steady my heart,” he murmured, his voice a soft, fragile thing in the quiet forge. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to you. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” You stayed there for a moment, the warmth of the fire on your back and the steady rhythm of his breathing against you. In that small bubble of peace, the burdens of the world seemed far away, and the ever-dedicated smith allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability, resting in the quiet reassurance of your love.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Cheek Kiss

The forge buzzed with energy as Celebrimbor bent over his workbench, utterly engrossed in his latest project. The mithril necklace before him glittered under the soft light, its intricate filigree design nearing perfection. His brow furrowed in concentration, and he muttered to himself about symmetry and balance, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

His focus was unshakable, his quill poised midair as he examined the delicate etching in front of him. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this—completely lost in his craft, his silver hair falling messily around his face. Stepping quietly behind him, you leaned in and pressed a quick, playful kiss to his cheek.

The reaction was instant. His quill stilled mid-stroke, and his shoulders stiffened momentarily before he turned his head to look at you, his expression shifting from surprise to warmth. A faint blush crept across his pale cheeks, his lips parting slightly as though you’d momentarily stolen all coherent thought from him.

A soft, unguarded smile curved his lips, and he chuckled under his breath, the sound warm and laced with affection. “Always so sweet with your gestures,” he murmured, setting the quill down carefully as if this moment mattered more than even his most delicate work.

He stood and turned to face you fully, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer. The calluses on his palms brushed against the fabric of your tunic, grounding and gentle all at once. His silver eyes sparkled with a teasing light, though there was no mistaking the adoration behind them.

“But I warn you,” he continued, his voice soft yet laced with amusement, “distracting me like that is dangerous work.” He leaned in, his lips brushing yours briefly before pulling back, his smile widening. “You may find yourself entirely at my mercy if you’re not careful.” His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the world beyond the forge ceased to exist. There was only the warmth of his touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and the love that radiated from him like the faint glow of mithril under firelight.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Lips Kiss

The late evening light spilled through the open window of the forge, its golden hues mingling with the soft glow of the hearthfire, casting a warm, almost ethereal light over Celebrimbor. He stood by his workbench, shoulders heavy with exhaustion but his hands still steady as they gently polished the edge of a newly forged blade. His focus was unwavering, but you could see the toll his work had taken on him—the faint circles under his eyes, the weariness etched into the lines of his face.

“Celebrimbor,” you called softly, stepping closer. He didn’t respond at first, too absorbed in his task, but at the touch of your hand on his arm, he froze. Slowly, he turned to you, his silver eyes lifting to meet yours. There was something disarming in the way his gaze softened the moment he saw you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as if you had brought a moment of peace into his ever-busy mind.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The faint touch made him sigh, his shoulders losing just a fraction of their tension.

He caught your hand, holding it as if it were the most fragile thing in the world, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze lingered on you—your eyes, your lips, every detail of your face—as if committing you to memory. Slowly, with an almost reverent pause, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was unhurried, deliberate, like he was pouring his heart into the act. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch firm yet tender, grounding you in the moment. His lips moved with a gentle rhythm, as though each movement was meant to reassure you, to communicate a love he sometimes struggled to put into words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath came in soft, uneven sighs. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles along your cheekbones as if reluctant to let go.

“You make my world brighter,” he whispered, his voice raw and filled with emotion, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight caress. “You are my brightest star, my light in the darkness.” For that moment, the weight of his responsibilities, the forge, and the dangers of the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the quiet intimacy shared between you.

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Elven ears kiss

The cool night air drifted across the balcony, carrying the faint scents of Eregion’s gardens mingled with the distant smoke of Khazad-dûm’s forges. The stars gleamed like diamonds above, their pale light mirrored in Celebrimbor’s silver-gray eyes. He sat beside you, his posture uncharacteristically relaxed, though the faint crease between his brows told you his mind was still caught on his endless toils.

You studied him quietly, the way his sharp features softened in the starlight, his hand resting idly on the stone ledge beside him. Even in this rare moment of peace, there was an aura of quiet intensity about him—a man whose thoughts were never far from his craft or his duties. Reaching out, you brushed your fingers over the back of his hand, drawing his attention. His gaze shifted to you, and as he met your eyes, the tension in his expression eased. His lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that was reserved only for you, and his hand turned to intertwine with yours.

“You always know how to bring me back,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, and filled with quiet gratitude. A playful glint sparked in your chest at his words. Tilting your head, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the delicate tip of his ear. The warmth of your breath lingered, deliberate and teasing, against the sensitive skin. The reaction was immediate, visceral. Celebrimbor’s entire body stiffened, his breath catching sharply as a shudder ran through him. His silver eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting slightly as though caught between retreating from the overwhelming sensation and leaning into it.

A soft, breathless gasp escaped his lips, followed by a low, uncharacteristic groan that sent warmth pooling in your chest. His hand shot up, gripping your arm tightly as though anchoring himself, while the other rested firmly on your hip. His flushed cheeks stood out starkly in the moonlight, and his breathing turned uneven.

“Vanya…” he breathed, his voice unsteady as he whispered the Elvish word for “beautiful.” His usual eloquence seemed to fail him, leaving him vulnerable, his composure crumbling in the most captivating way. Smiling, you leaned in again, this time brushing your lips slowly along the sensitive curve of his ear. His breath hitched, his grip on your arm tightening as another tremor coursed through him. His fingers splayed against your waist, pulling you closer, as his free hand moved to rest at the nape of your neck. “Cala nórelya,” (light of my life) he murmured through uneven breaths—“You will undo me.” His voice was a mix of playful reproach and raw affection, though it cracked slightly, betraying the intensity of the moment.

When you finally drew back, his eyes blinked open, clouded with emotion, the silver depths reflecting a potent mix of love and longing. He pulled you close, wrapping both arms tightly around you, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his breath against your skin. For a long moment, he simply held you, his composure gradually returning as he basked in the closeness you shared. When he finally pulled back, his smile was soft and unguarded, a rare and breathtaking sight. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“I should warn you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as his lips ghosted over your temple. “Such power in your hands could be the ruin of me, my love.” Though his tone carried a teasing edge, the depth of the emotion in his gaze was undeniable. And as he held you, his body still trembling faintly in the aftermath of your touch, you knew there was no place in all of Arda where he would rather be.

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Nose Kiss

The soft morning light filtered through the windows of Celebrimbor’s study, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. The air was warm and still, broken only by the faint scratch of his quill against parchment. He was hunched over his worktable, silver-gray eyes focused intently on the intricate designs he was sketching. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and yet, despite the weight of his meticulous work, there was a calm serenity about him.

You watched him for a moment from the doorway, a soft smile curling on your lips at how deeply immersed he was in his craft. You stepped closer, your footsteps quiet against the stone floor. “Still working?” you teased lightly, leaning against the edge of his table.

Celebrimbor glanced up, his gaze lifting from the delicate curves of mithril designs to meet yours. The faint lines of tension in his expression softened instantly, replaced by a gentle warmth in his silver eyes. “When inspiration strikes, it does not wait,” he replied, a faint chuckle in his voice. The corners of his mouth quirked in that almost-smile that always made your heart flutter.

You leaned over, pretending to inspect the sketches in front of him. The lines were precise, almost impossibly so, a testament to his unparalleled skill. But your true intent wasn’t to admire his work. Instead, you tilted your head and leaned in closer, pressing a light, playful kiss to the tip of his nose.

The reaction was immediate and utterly endearing. Celebrimbor blinked in surprise, his quill stilling mid-air as his lips parted slightly. A quiet chuckle escaped him, warm and unrestrained, as his hand reached up to brush softly against your cheek. “A bold move,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement. Despite his playful tone, a faint flush colored his pale cheeks, betraying the delight your gesture brought him.

Before you could pull away, he leaned forward, tilting his head slightly to meet yours. His nose brushed against yours in an affectionate nuzzle, the gesture so tender that it left your heart aching. His laughter was soft and warm, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. “You make me feel so young again,” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of unguarded joy. For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities—the forge, the guild, the growing demands of his people—seemed to melt away. All that remained was the golden morning light, the quiet warmth between you, and the love that shone brightly in his eyes.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Shoulder Kiss

The evening was quiet, the gardens of Ost-in-Edhil bathed in soft silver moonlight. The stars above seemed impossibly close, their faint glow shimmering like scattered diamonds against the darkened sky. The scent of blooming flowers drifted through the air, mingling with the cool breeze that rustled through the leaves.

Celebrimbor sat beside you on a wide stone bench, his arm draped loosely around your shoulders. His other hand rested on his knee, fingers occasionally tracing idle patterns against the fabric of his robes. For once, the master smith’s hands were still—no tools, no sketches, no heavy hammer strokes breaking the quiet.

His silver eyes gazed out over the moonlit blooms, his expression relaxed but distant. You could tell his mind lingered on his work, even in this rare moment of rest. The faint crease in his brow and the way his fingers twitched betrayed the thoughts that refused to leave him.

Shifting slightly, you leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder. The tension in his body seemed to ease at your touch, his gaze flickering down to you as a soft, almost shy smile curved his lips. Without a word, you tilted your head and pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of his shoulder, just where the fabric of his robe parted slightly to reveal his skin. The kiss was light, but it carried with it all the affection and comfort you felt for him.

Celebrimbor froze for a moment, his breath catching at the unexpected gesture. Slowly, his silver eyes softened, the faint crease in his brow disappearing as the meaning of your touch sank in. With a quiet sigh, he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world.

His head lowered, and he brushed his forehead against your temple, his voice breaking the stillness. “I feel whole with you beside me,” he whispered, his words a quiet confession of gratitude and love. You felt his cheek rest against your hair as he breathed deeply, as though trying to memorize the moment—the scent of the flowers, the warmth of your presence, and the comfort of your touch. His hand drifted to rest lightly over yours, his thumb brushing small circles over your skin.

In that moment, there was no forge, no looming responsibility, no shadow of the burdens he carried. There was only you and the unshakable bond that held him steady. The faintest smile tugged at his lips as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You are my peace,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but you heard it clearly. It was a truth he carried deep in his heart, one he rarely allowed himself to say aloud—but tonight, he gave it freely.

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Hand Kiss

The forge had grown silent, the once-roaring flames reduced to a low, flickering glow that cast long shadows on the stone walls. The faint scent of smelted metal and burning coals lingered in the air as Celebrimbor stood by the window, his tall frame outlined by the pale light of the moon. His hands rested on the sill, their calloused surfaces illuminated by the silvery glow, and his gaze was distant, lost in the quiet contemplation that often followed his long hours of crafting.

You approached him softly, your footsteps almost soundless on the stone floor. He didn’t turn right away, but you saw the faintest shift in his shoulders, a sign that he was aware of your presence. When you came close enough, his silver eyes flickered to you, and the lines of weariness on his face softened.

Without a word, you reached for his hand. It was warm from hours near the forge, rough and textured from centuries of work. You held it carefully, cradling it as if it were something delicate despite the strength it bore. Celebrimbor stilled, his breath catching as he watched you bring his hand to your lips.

When your lips pressed a tender kiss to the rough skin of his palm, he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. His fingers twitched, curling ever so slightly as though trying to hold onto the sensation. For a moment, he simply stared at you, his silver eyes wide with unspoken emotion. There was no trace of his usual composure, only quiet reverence and a vulnerability that made the moment feel achingly intimate.

He raised his free hand, cupping yours with a gentleness that belied his strength. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted your hand to his own lips. The kiss he placed on your knuckles was lingering and deliberate, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“These hands have forged much,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted with emotion, “but none of it as precious as the love we share.” His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles, as if trying to ground himself in your touch. The way he looked at you—soft, open, utterly unguarded—made your heart ache in the most beautiful way. In that moment, it wasn’t his legacy, his craft, or his burdens that defined him. It was the love you shared, the quiet connection that made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

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Wrist Kiss

The workshop was dim and tranquil, the embers of the forge casting a faint orange glow that flickered across the walls. The scent of heated metal and the faint tang of oil filled the room, mingling with the quiet hum of the evening. Celebrimbor sat at his workbench, his posture relaxed yet focused as his long fingers moved with precision over a piece of delicate filigree. The faint scrape of tools against metal was the only sound, until your footsteps brought a soft rhythm to the quiet.

You stepped behind him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. He paused, his fingers stilling as he leaned slightly into your touch. When he tilted his head to look at you, his silver eyes were warm, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Am I being summoned away from my work again?” he teased gently, though there was no annoyance in his tone. If anything, it was laced with affection. Instead of answering, you slid your hand down his arm, taking his hand in yours. He let you guide it, his movements slow and curious as his eyes followed your every gesture. Holding his hand delicately, you lifted it toward your lips, brushing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of his wrist.

The reaction was instantaneous and visceral. Celebrimbor’s breath hitched audibly, his shoulders stiffening as a visible shiver coursed through him. His eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. When he opened them again, they glimmered with something unspoken, a mix of awe and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

The soft skin of his wrist, rarely touched and sensitive from years of meticulous crafting, seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment. His free hand rose to cradle yours, his thumb brushing over the delicate veins beneath your skin as though tracing the lifeline that sustained you.

“You…” he began, his voice catching slightly as he paused to steady himself. His tone, when he spoke again, was quiet and reverent. “You remind me how fragile yet strong love can be.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours, not with urgency, but with a quiet, grounding need to hold onto the moment. He set his tools aside, turning his body toward you fully as if to give you his undivided attention.

Slowly, he guided you closer, his hand slipping to your lower back as he brought you to sit beside him on the workbench’s edge. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. He simply held your hand, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your wrist as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. His expression was open, soft, filled with a tenderness that few ever got to see.

“You do more than remind me to stop working,” he murmured eventually, a small, almost wistful smile crossing his lips. “You remind me to live.” In your kiss, he had felt more than affection; he had felt trust, warmth, and the weight of a love so deep it could sustain him through even the darkest days. The intimacy of it lingered, leaving him utterly enchanted and more deeply connected to you than ever.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Jawline kiss

The air in the forge was thick with the mingling scents of hot metal and the earthy undertones of ancient stone, yet a soft tranquility hung over the room. The rhythmic hum of the forge had quieted to a low murmur, and the distant clang of hammer on anvil barely registered as Celebrimbor stood hunched over his workbench. His long fingers traced the delicate etching of a bracelet with meticulous care, his silver-gray eyes narrowed in deep concentration. The flickering glow from the nearby hearth cast long shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles and proud demeanor of his features. He was unaware of your presence until you stepped up behind him, your quiet approach undetected amidst the quiet pulse of the room.

With gentle, deliberate steps, you moved closer until you were only inches away. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the warmth of his body filling the space. Without warning, you leaned in, brushing your lips lightly along the edge of his jawline. The tenderness of your kiss caught him completely off guard, and his breath hitched in his chest. His fingers froze mid-motion, the metalwork momentarily forgotten as a shiver ran through him, the soft touch of your lips igniting something deeper inside.

For a long heartbeat, he was still—his heart racing faster than he would admit. He turned his head, eyes meeting yours with a flicker of surprise and something that bordered on vulnerability. His usually composed voice faltered, a breathless quality seeping through. “Teasing me, are you?” His lips quirked into a playful smirk, the rare warmth in his eyes making him seem less the stoic smith and more the man who was utterly undone by you.

His hand rose slowly, a movement that was almost reverent, and he cupped your cheek in his calloused palm, brushing a thumb tenderly across your skin. He pulled you gently towards him, your foreheads meeting with a soft touch. “I will never grow tired of these little surprises,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, warmth, and something more—a deep, unspoken desire.

The playful edge in his tone remained, but there was a sincerity beneath it, one that only you could draw out. His lips brushed lightly over your forehead, and you could feel the smile on his lips against your skin, the rare, unguarded joy he found in your company.

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Temple kiss

The glow of the hearth was the only light in the room now, casting a soft, flickering warmth that contrasted with the growing coolness of the night air outside. Celebrimbor sat in a wide, plush chair beside the fire, his broad shoulders and tall frame relaxed, but his eyes—those silver-gray eyes—were fixed intently on the flames as they danced and crackled in the hearth. His posture, typically so precise, had softened in the quiet of the evening, though there was still an air of gentle tension around him.

You sat beside him, your body close but not touching, savoring the stillness of the moment. The world outside was asleep, and in this brief quiet, you could hear nothing but the crackle of the fire and the soft beat of your own heart. You knew, though, that Celebrimbor’s mind rarely found peace, even in the stillness of such moments. But he was here, with you.

After a long silence, you leaned in, your lips brushing delicately against his temple. The soft, intimate pressure of your kiss on that sensitive spot sent a shiver through him. For a brief moment, his eyes fluttered closed, his breath catching in his throat as his body responded instinctively to the unexpected tenderness. The temple, often a place of sharp focus and thought, was now the site of a quiet vulnerability—a place where he allowed himself to soften, just for you.

His hand moved, fingers brushing over yours as he rested them over the top of your hand, pressing it gently to his chest. He leaned into the touch, a quiet sigh escaping him as the weight of the day seemed to slip away. “You are a quiet storm, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection.

There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but it was undercut by the depth of the emotion there. His hair brushed against your cheek as he leaned his head against yours, his breath warm and steady in the close proximity. “But I could get lost in these moments with you forever.” His words were soft, almost as if he were speaking to himself, as if the act of simply being with you in this quiet moment was a luxury he rarely allowed himself. His arm subtly encircled your

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Back of the neck kiss

The study was bathed in the soft golden light of a nearby fire, the shadows in the room flickering and dancing across the stone walls. Celebrimbor sat at his large oak desk, the room filled with the faint, soothing scratch of his quill as it moved across the parchment before him. His silver-gray eyes were narrowed in concentration, brows furrowed in a way that spoke of the weight of his thoughts. The work at hand was important, but you could tell that even in his focus, a part of him was still burdened by the ever-present duties that came with his position.

The quiet hum of the fire seemed to magnify the stillness of the room, but you entered soundlessly, your steps soft against the stone floor. As you moved closer, the warmth of his presence wrapped around you, drawing you in with a sense of quiet comfort.

Celebrimbor was unaware of your approach, too absorbed in the world of ink and parchment before him. Without a sound, you leaned in, your lips grazing the tender skin at the back of his neck. The sensation was immediate and electric, sending a rush of warmth through his body, breaking the focus he had so carefully maintained. For a split second, he froze—his quill halting midair, the subtle tremor in his fingers a sign of the effect your simple kiss had on him.

A soft, shuddering breath escaped him, and you could feel the heat of his skin as he slowly turned his head to meet your gaze. The silver of his eyes shimmered in the firelight, caught somewhere between surprise and admiration, as though you had revealed a part of him he didn’t often let others see. His lips curved into a slight smirk, the familiar confident composure returning, but now laced with a tenderness that only you could draw out.

“Such a subtle attack,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and something deeper—an appreciation for the unexpected intimacy of your gesture. His hand came up slowly, his long fingers stilling the quill before he placed it gently on the desk, his attention now fully on you. His lips parted as he spoke again, the words carrying an affectionate weight, “Do you know the power you wield over me?”

His voice was thick with something more than simple teasing. There was a vulnerability in his tone, one that you rarely heard, a depth that he only revealed when he was in your presence. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing, as if the sudden surge of affection had momentarily lifted the invisible weight he had carried for so long.

You moved closer, and without a second thought, he cupped the sides of your face with both hands, pulling you in towards him. His touch was gentle yet firm, as though he was claiming you, pulling you into his world of quiet strength and unspoken emotion. His lips brushed against your forehead, a soft, tender gesture that spoke volumes.

“You always know just where to place your touch,” he murmured, his voice now a whisper that seemed to tremble with a rare kind of longing. He pressed his lips to your forehead again, lingering there, a slow exhale escaping him as he absorbed the quiet moment. “It drives me mad.”

His words, thick with both affection and desire, sent a wave of warmth through you. The composure that he so often held—so tightly—was slipping away, and in its place was a man undone by the simple, intimate affection you gave him. His hands gently cupped the back of your neck, his thumbs brushing across your skin in a motion that was both soothing and intimate.

In that moment, his armor of emotional distance seemed to vanish completely, leaving only the raw honesty of how much you affected him. He had always been strong, composed, and carefully guarded, but now, in the quiet intimacy of the moment, he was entirely yours—vulnerable, tender, and completely unafraid. Your kiss had shattered the walls he had built so carefully, and it was clear that, for him, this moment was as much about you as it was about letting go of everything he carried.

“Never have I been so grateful for a tease,” he whispered against your forehead, his voice thick with emotion. His lips brushed against your skin again, and you could feel the pulse of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. There was nothing but this—this closeness, this shared vulnerability—and in it, both of you felt an undeniable connection that transcended words.

[agentflowerpot]

What I think their scent, favorite food, dessert, flower, drink, color, season, animal, guilty pleasure, and spiritual animal.

Headcanons: Gil Galad, Celebrimbor, Thranduil, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Lindir.

Gil~Galad

Scent: He carries the scent of crisp winter air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of ancient wood and the salty tang of the sea. It evokes both the distant chill of the north and the ageless spirit of the Elves, an aura of ancient wisdom and strength.

Favorite Food: He relishes venison roasted over an open fire, a meal that carries with it the essence of the wilds—earthy, smoky, and fit for a king. It is simple yet refined, representing his balance of strength and nobility.

Favorite Dessert: Golden honey cakes, their sweetness balanced with a hint of spice, reflect his deep connection to both the earth and the Elven love for rich, delicate flavors. A treat as elegant and timeless as his reign.

Favorite Flower: White lilies hold a special place in his heart—delicate and pure, they symbolize nobility and purity, embodying the essence of Elven grace and the lasting legacy of the Noldor.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys rich, aged wine from the vineyards of Lindon, its complexity and depth echoing the long history of the Elves. Each sip carries the taste of Elven craftsmanship and the timeless beauty of the land he rules.

Favorite Color: Silver is his chosen hue, the color of stars, regal power, and the quiet nobility of the Elves. It speaks to his high status, his timeless wisdom, and the quiet serenity of his rule.

Favorite Season: Autumn is his favorite season, when the world feels as if it is in a moment of stillness. The changing leaves and the crisp air reflect his deep connection to the passage of time and his quiet contemplation of Middle-earth’s ever-turning cycles.

Favorite Animal: The peacock, with its dazzling plumage, resonates with his sense of majesty, grace, and regal presence. It is an animal that, though rare and striking, moves with a quiet confidence that mirrors Gil-galad’s own commanding yet composed nature.

Guilty Pleasure: Though he is bound by duty, Gil-galad secretly finds solace in spending time in the serene gardens of Lindon, away from his royal responsibilities. In these private moments, he reconnects with the peaceful rhythms of nature, something his kingship often denies him.

Spiritual Animal: The falcon, noble and ever-watchful, is his spiritual animal. Its ability to soar high above, to see the world with clarity and precision, mirrors his own role as a leader who sees both the grand picture and the details of his realm from above, with calm detachment and vigilant responsibility.

Celebrimbor 

Scent: Celebrimbor carries the scent of oak—earthy and grounded—mixed with the metallic tang of the forge. His aroma evokes the intimacy of creation, the warmth of a forge at dusk, where the heat of the fire and the coolness of twilight meet.

Favorite Food: He favors Elven bread, soft and light, often paired with honey and fresh fruit. The simplicity of this food, with its sweetness and delicate flavors, mirrors his appreciation for craftsmanship—refined, yet never overwhelming.

Favorite Dessert: A dish of caramelized figs, warm and fragrant, spiced with a touch of cinnamon. It combines both sweetness and spice, much like his own character—delicate but capable of surprising depth.

Favorite Flower: The Silverleaf, with its delicate and intricate petals, symbolizes the blend of beauty and precision that Celebrimbor values in both his work and the world around him. Its silvery hue reflects his affinity for elegance and refinement.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys a herbal brew that clears the mind, typically something light and refreshing, with notes of mint and thyme. It helps him focus and think clearly, providing clarity before diving into his complex creations.

Favorite Color: Silver, the color of his craft. It shines with a quiet brilliance, much like his work in metal and stone. The reflective hue represents purity, sophistication, and the noble nature of his creations.

Favorite Season: Spring is Celebrimbor’s favorite season, symbolizing the creative renewal of life. Much like the budding flowers and fresh air of spring, it fuels his desire to create, constantly renewing his passion for innovation and artistry.

Favorite Animal: The owl, a creature known for its wisdom and keen observation, mirrors Celebrimbor’s own insightful nature. His quiet, analytical demeanor and ability to perceive things others might miss makes him kin to this nocturnal hunter of knowledge.

Guilty Pleasure: Celebrimbor often loses himself in the designs of new weapons. It’s his secret indulgence—a moment when the pressures of leadership and duty melt away, and he’s consumed by the art of crafting something powerful and beautiful, just for the sake of it.

Spiritual Animal: The phoenix resonates deeply with him. Like the legendary bird, Celebrimbor is reborn from both creation and destruction. His passion for forging, as well as his struggle with Sauron’s betrayal, mirrors the cycle of rising from the ashes to create anew.

Thranduil

Scent: Thranduil carries the scent of pine and fresh dew on the forest floor, a fragrant reminder of his deep connection to Mirkwood’s ancient woods. It’s the smell of tranquility and timelessness, evoking a sense of quiet majesty.

Favorite Food: He enjoys forest mushrooms paired with wild game, a dish that reflects the wild, untamed beauty of his realm. The flavors are earthy and rich, as he appreciates the bounty the forest provides.

Favorite Dessert: Sweet berry tarts, their tangy and delicate flavors satisfy his refined taste for the finest things, while still feeling grounded in the natural sweetness of the world around him.

Favorite Flower: Thranduil favors snowdrops, the delicate flowers that bloom quietly in the coldest months. Their purity and elegance mirror his noble yet reserved nature, and they are a reminder of the strength hidden in quiet beauty.

Favorite Drink: Dorwinion wine is his drink of choice—rich, bold, and refined. The wine’s depth and complexity suit his long-lived nature and his taste for the finer things, reflecting his appreciation for both luxury and tradition.

Favorite Color: Emerald green reflects the vibrant, lush forests of Mirkwood. This deep, rich color symbolizes the strength, mystery, and endless depth of the natural world, mirroring his kingdom and his own regal presence.

Favorite Season: Autumn is his favored season, when the forest is bathed in warm hues of gold and red. It represents a time of change and beauty, much like his own life—a season of reflection and quiet power.

Favorite Animal: The white stag, elusive and proud, represents both grace and strength in the forest. It embodies his own leadership style—majestic, solitary, and deeply connected to the land he rules over.

Guilty Pleasure: Thranduil enjoys his own company more than most, relishing moments of solitude. In these rare moments, he reflects, indulges in his treasures, and experiences peace away from the pressures of his crown.

Spiritual Animal: The lion, powerful and majestic, mirrors his fierce authority and regal presence. Like the lion, Thranduil commands respect and exudes quiet confidence, his strength lying in his measured, controlled nature.

Elrond

Smell: Elrond carries the scent of fresh mountain air, carrying with it a hint of wild herbs and earthy parchment—a blend of nature’s tranquility and the wisdom of his many years.

Favorite Food: His favorite is a hearty stew, simple but satisfying—a meal that represents his practicality and deep connection to the land. It’s both nourishing and comforting, much like his presence in Rivendell.

Favorite Dessert: For something sweet, Elrond enjoys delicate almond cakes—soft and fragrant, with a subtle sweetness that mirrors his gentle yet firm leadership.

Favorite Flower: He favors lavender, its soothing scent and soft purple hue reflecting his calm, patient demeanor, and the peace he brings to his people.

Favorite Drink: A floral herbal tea brewed from the gardens of Rivendell is his drink of choice—light and fragrant, a symbol of his connection to the natural world and the healing qualities he offers.

Favorite Color: The color blue resonates most with Elrond, symbolizing wisdom, peace, and the quiet strength he exudes. It is the color of both the sky and the deep waters—reflective, calm, and enduring.

Favorite Season: Spring is Elrond’s favorite season—a time of renewal, when life begins anew and the world feels calm yet full of potential, much like his own eternal role in Rivendell.

Favorite Animal: The raven holds a special place in his heart—wise, observant, and occasionally brooding. Much like Elrond, the raven is deeply attuned to the world’s mysteries, often seen as a symbol of insight.

Guilty Pleasure: Elrond’s guilty pleasure is losing himself in old scrolls and forgotten histories—the vast knowledge of Middle-earth and its past is something he can never resist, even if it means he spends long hours in solitude.

Spiritual Animal: The swan is his spiritual animal, graceful and serene. It represents his nobility, elegance, and inner calm—a creature that glides smoothly, even though its feet are constantly working beneath the surface.

Glorfindel

Scent: Glorfindel smells like the warm, golden sunlight of the plains, blended with the fresh, earthy scent of wild herbs and flowers. His presence carries the invigorating aroma of nature, like a quiet breeze that moves through a meadow in full bloom. There’s a subtle hint of pine and earth that clings to him, especially after he’s been in the wild.

Favorite Food: His favorite food is a hearty lamb roast, tender and juicy, seasoned with fresh rosemary, garlic, and a hint of salt. The flavors are simple but bold, much like Glorfindel himself—strong, comforting, and full of life.

Favorite Dessert: Berry pies with a golden, flaky crust are Glorfindel’s favorite dessert. The sweetness of the berries contrasts perfectly with the rich, buttery crust, providing a balance he appreciates.

Favorite Flower: Glorfindel’s favorite flower is the sunflower, which symbolizes strength, vitality, and light—traits that he values deeply. The towering, golden blooms remind him of the power and beauty of nature, reflecting his own inner light and unwavering courage.

Favorite Drink: He enjoys a strong, dark elven coffee—smooth but intense, much like his presence. The deep, rich flavors of the brew awaken his senses and provide him with the energy needed to face the challenges of leadership and battle.

Favorite Color: Gold is Glorfindel’s favorite color, representing the sun’s warmth, strength, and vitality. It symbolizes his noble nature, his leadership, and his inner light.

Favorite Season: Summer is Glorfindel’s favorite season, filled with warmth, light, and life. It’s a time of abundance and vitality, much like his own exuberant spirit. He feels most connected to the world around him during this season, thriving in the sunlight and the full bloom of nature, as if the world is alive with endless possibilities.

Favorite Animal: A wild, majestic stallion is Glorfindel’s favorite animal, embodying freedom, strength, and grace. The stallion’s untamed spirit and commanding presence mirror Glorfindel’s own noble yet free-spirited nature. He feels a deep bond with these creatures, often riding into battle with the same fierce independence and power.

Guilty Pleasure: Glorfindel’s guilty pleasure is training for hours, often just because he enjoys the challenge. Whether it’s perfecting his swordplay or pushing himself to new physical limits, he finds joy in the act of pushing his body and mind to the edge. It’s a moment of solitude where he can focus solely on himself, away from the burdens of leadership.

Spiritual Animal: His spiritual animal is the lion—majestic, brave, and protective. Much like the lion, Glorfindel exudes confidence and strength, with a natural leadership that commands respect. He is fiercely loyal and protective of those he cares about, much like a lion safeguarding its pride. His courage is unwavering, and his spirit is one of unwavering protection.

Haldir

Smell: Haldir carries the sharp scent of wood and green leaves with him, a reminder of the forests he guards. It’s the fresh, invigorating scent of the wild, mixed with the earthiness of moss and the crispness of the forest floor after rain.

Favorite Food: He favors dried fish, smoked over a crackling fire. It’s simple, yet satisfying, with the smoky flavors of the forest’s edge filling the air—something hearty and practical for a warrior who lives by the rhythms of nature.

Favorite Dessert: Soft, warm berry tarts bring him comfort, the sweetness of the fruit balanced by the buttery pastry. It’s the kind of dessert that reminds him of quiet moments shared with loved ones in the peaceful calm of the woods.

Favorite Flower: Roses are his favorite, their petals delicate yet strong. Like him, they thrive in the face of challenges, their beauty a testament to resilience. He’s drawn to their quiet strength, much like the guardianship he feels for his people.

Favorite Drink: A strong, earthy tea with herbs from his homeland is Haldir’s drink of choice. Its depth of flavor, grounded by roots and leaves, helps center his mind during long hours of watch or when he seeks solitude to reflect on the tasks ahead.

Favorite Color: Forest green, the color of his heart, is the color that defines him. It’s the hue of the woods he loves, where he feels most at home, a blend of peace and power that flows through every aspect of his life.

Favorite Season: Autumn, when the leaves turn gold and the air is crisp, is Haldir’s favorite season. The quiet change of the world around him mirrors his own introspection, and he finds comfort in the calm that the turning of the seasons brings.

Favorite Animal: The fox, clever and agile, represents Haldir’s sharp mind and quick reflexes. It’s a creature that moves silently through the underbrush, ever watchful and quick to adapt—traits he values as a protector of the forest.

Guilty Pleasure: Haldir’s guilty pleasure is taking long walks alone in the woods, reflecting on his thoughts. In these moments, he is away from the burdens of leadership, allowing the quiet of the forest to clear his mind and help him find peace.

Spiritual Animal: The hawk, swift and focused, is his spiritual animal. It represents his sharp gaze and unwavering determination, as well as his ability to navigate through challenges with precision and a clear purpose. The hawk soars above, always keeping watch over all below.

Lindir

Scent: Lindir carries the scent of sweet-scented wood and aged parchment, a reflection of his scholarly nature. The gentle, earthy notes speak of quiet study, timeless wisdom, and the calming presence of Rivendell’s ancient halls.

Favorite Food: A delicate blend of fruit, sweet with a tangy glaze that balances the flavors perfectly. It’s a dish that mirrors his appreciation for simple pleasures with a touch of refinement.

Favorite Dessert: Lemon cakes, tart but soft, embodying Lindir’s balance of sharp intellect and gentle spirit. Their vibrant flavor lifts the mood, much like his quiet but uplifting presence among friends.

Favorite Flower: White roses, elegant and unpretentious, reflecting his love for simplicity and beauty. The pure, soft petals remind him of peace and clarity.

Favorite Drink: Soft, berry-infused water, refreshing yet light, much like Lindir’s calm and approachable demeanor. It’s a drink that cools the spirit and nourishes the soul.

Favorite Color: Pale blue, cool and serene like a calm river, this color mirrors Lindir’s gentle, composed nature. It reminds him of the quiet moments spent near the water, feeling at peace with the world.

Favorite Season: Spring, a season of renewal and growth. Lindir finds joy in watching the world awaken, much like his own heart, which comes alive with the season’s fresh start.

Favorite Animal: The songbird, delicate and beautiful, a symbol of grace and freedom. Lindir admires its ability to express itself with such simplicity, yet its song can fill the air with meaning and warmth.

Guilty Pleasure: Singing at the top of his lungs when no one’s around. It’s his secret escape, a moment of joy and release where he lets his heart sing freely, without worry or restraint.

Spiritual Animal: The dove, a symbol of peace, grace, and hope. Much like the dove, Lindir is gentle and calm, always striving to bring tranquility to those around him, spreading harmony wherever he goes.

[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.

[asinoeiv]

The first few of the tiny request sketches I do as a warm up and some halenthir!

1st - drawing finrod is really fun, im currently doing a tiny Finrod with Maedhros

2nd - Celebrimbor napping during a meeting in ost-in-edhil @fallensmith @flnno

3rd and 4th - the 4th is actually quite old. it's a half abandoned wip from a few months back i did when I was trying to find out how I would like haleth to look.

[sakasakiii]

when i first designed erestor 3 years back i wasnt totally aware of his potential half-elf status, and since then ive come across some more fanon interpretations of him being haleth and caranthir's kid which i really liked!!!! so ive decided to rework him a little by combining my original lore for him into this concept 👉👈 i ended up getting carried away on whole different tangent with his backstory which ive summarised down below HAHA

tldr to expand on some key points under the cut:

born in F.A. 371 to haleth and caranthir; his parents' romance is short but passionate, and while many of the haladin are initially unsure about the nature of this union, they dont oppose it. for 4 years they live an unconventional but happy life together

haleth leaves thargelion in F.A. 375 and raises erestor with her people once they resettle. he's too young to remember much about caranthir. throughout his childhood she never tells him who his father is, but he also never really feels the need to ask.

he's captured in F.A. 460 (40 years after his mother's death) and escapes in F.A. 510. two years later, he finally finds refuge in Amon Ereb-- six years after the deaths of caranthir, celegorm and curufin in the 2nd kinslaying.

is tasked by maedhros to assist maglor with elrond and elros' education after they're taken in following the 3rd kinslaying in F.A. 538. he becomes a weird mix of a nanny/older brother/teacher figure to them, and a strange but sweet bond forms between them.

entrusted to protect elrond and elros following the break out of the war of wrath. he leads them to the Host of the Valar, where the twins are given the choice of the half-elven; to his surprise, he's afforded this choice as well, and decides to remain elven out of compassion for elrond after elros chooses mortality.

remains by elrond's side to watch over him for most of the 2nd age. during this time he resides in lindon as a healer, translator and archivist; later joins elrond in imladris, and partakes in the war of the last alliance as a combat medic.

in the 3rd age, is beset with sea-longing after what he regards to be a long and tiresome existence; he's also filled with guilt for being unable to help elrond heal celebrian’s psychological wounds, and contemplates following her back to Valinor. ultimately decides to stay back a bit longer, however, and lingers until after sauron’s defeat when the rest of the elves finally depart for the West. 

that's just a very condensed version but one day i hope to explore in some 4th age stuff where he finds out who his dad is...?! or will he?!?! who knows lol

[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?

[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.

[astral-aromance]

Grandchildren

Imagine being Nerdanel, sure that your family is lost to you forever. You're completely alone. Even after over 6000 years, your bed still feels empty without your husband there. There's no noise in the kitchen where the brothers are fighting over the last apple, despite all of them knowing there's a whole apple tree right outside the window. No smoke coming from the smithy, no papers with blue prints and miracles scattered around. No dog hair clogging up the drain. No music at 3 am. Nothing.

But then, one day, this Elf shows up at your door. He's shorter than usual, and he looks older than you have ever seen an elf look. He says, "I'm your grandson," and suddenly, you are not completely alone anymore. Elrond is nice, you like him. The music room gets used again, even if only a little. It brings you joy.

A few decades go by, and a Raven brings you a summon from Mandos. You except Tyelpë is finally coming home to you, but instead, it's an elf you have NEVER met before. Tall, stoic, and dark-haired, Nolofinwëan in all ways, but his eyes are unmistakably those of your husband. Those of your eldest son. He is just as surprised to see you there, as is Anairë, but you work it out. Turns out Ereinion and Elrond always thought of one another as brothers, now they actually are. One morning, you go downstairs for tea, and you hear the King yell at the Lord about stealing his strawberries off his plate.

Elrond goes to the havens to meet his sons. Surprisingly, the Seagull carried a summon for you as well. Two identical faces greet you, and your heart stings with old grief. You turn to leave, but spot something unusual. Another Peredhil, shy and distancing himself from the others. He looks like Elrond in hair and build, but... Elrond didn't have any other children, did he? One of the twins tugs on his arm and tries to pull him into the crowd, and the newcomer scowls at him. His face turns bright red. Soon after, you find detailed descriptions of Finarfin's failure as a king when it comes to finances on your coffee table.

Tyelpë returns too, turns out he knew all of them, and they get along great. Maybe a little too well, because they start shutting you out. They stop talking when you walk into the room. They hastily hide documents beneath their robes when you pass them. You don't know what they're up to, but at least your house isn't silent anymore, and the forge burns again.

You realise that they are indeed of your house when it comes to stubborn determination when on a quiet Tuesday afternoon 8 Ravens show up to your house with summons, and none of the grandchildren seem surprised.

You are happy as you step out the front door toward Mandos, carrying a basket with 8 sets of robes, a blanket, cups, some bread, some cheese, and a very strong bottle of wine.

[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?

[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.

[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.

[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❤️

[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.”

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

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[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.