#ecthelion x reader

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin Baking With You For The Holidays

Requests: May I request a baking with the Lords of gondolin for the festive season, sounds both fun and chaotic. Would there be anything to eat other then a mouthful of flour you threw at each other? Probably not. Unless you feel like eating cinnamon goop and crunchy burnt cookies. – anon

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this request, especially with Christmas approaching and the baking season in the air. Thanks for this request anon. Enjoy!

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Galdor

◇ He’s just too good when it comes to averaging ingredients, though he often got distracted by your playful antics each time you tried to eat the ingredients or break his concentration as he poured the vanilla syrup or honey. “Are you trying to sabotage my cookies?” he’ll whine when you throw flour at him.

◇ Might realise too late that you’re missing one of the ingredients—powdered sugar—and have to make a quick rush to the market. This unfortunately turns into a shopping spree where you two would return with extra ingredients.

◇ You’re the one to start a fight while Galdor is attempting to maintain the peace and his station clean, so your extra flour and eggs don’t end up in his bowl of cake batter. At some point, he got dragged into your ruffian behaviour and ended up covered in flour.

◇ Despite being the one making the cake and cookies, his knack for ‘quality control’ resulted in him tasting the batter/dough too often.

◇ When the first batch did come out of the oven, it was burnt which left you questioning all of Galdor’s ‘phenomenal’ cooking abilities he was renowned for. “I thought you were a great chef?” “I am, but when I have a little mouse in the kitchen, what else to expect?”

◇ Offended. At least there were a few cookies saved from the extra crispiness and the cake was decent to still enjoy your day’s labour.

Ecthelion

◇ He takes baking for the holidays the same as any military operation—detailed with a precise layout, and no straying from the outline. You will be gently scolded each time you attempt to do your own thing. Like measuring without measuring cups and spoon. He doesn’t do the whole ‘pour until your ancestors tell you to stop.’

◇ But Thel being Thel, still couldn’t resist breaking his own rules when the chocolate chip cookie dough was looking delicious and sticking his fingers to scoop a dollop. “Just checking to make sure they’re not poisoned.” As he shoves a spoonful in his mouth.

◇ You somehow managed to end up with too much dough? despite the way he was eating the dough each time you turned your back. He decided that you should share it, leading to an impromptu cookie giveaway.

◇ Spends a good portion of the evening walking through the streets of Gondolin handing cookies on trays to the citizens and his servants. Even Turgon is happy to receive his batch of cookies for the holidays.

◇ When it came to decorating, he took pride in it, the same way he takes pride in his appearance. He is in charge of the designs and hands out a sheet of paper filled with patterns for you to follow. Do not diverge from the original patterns, you’re ruining the aesthetic.

◇ At least in the end, you had the perfect batch of cookies to sit by the fireplace and eat with a nice glass of milk.

Glorfindel

◇ You’re never getting anything done on time, and surely your cake or cookies will be burnt because of his distractions. Which leads to you making a fresh batch and shooing him out the kitchen. He comes right back after sneaking in.

◇ Eats the dough like it’s food and gets all puzzled when you scold him for reducing the volume. “Laurë! We’ll have none by the time you’re finished! And you’ll get sick if you continue to eat the raw dough!”

◇ With a mouth full of dough, he looked hurt that you would deny him the right to taste-test the desserts to ensure the quality was up to his standards. “I just wanted to taste the cookies. Don’t have to be so mean.” Guilt trips you into letting him eat more.

◇ You obviously end up with less dough and Laurë earns himself a tummy ache from how much dough he ate raw. Some dough had less of certain ingredients while others had too much because he pulled you to dance in the middle of measuring, so you forgot and mismanaged.

◇ You end up with cookies that were undercooked, overcooked and er…not cookies? Still, it didn’t bother him because he was willing to enjoy the hard labour of your fantastic baking.

◇ “Baking is an art, and although it may not appear the way we intended, there is merit and beauty in the outcome.” He would cheer as he plopped a cookie into his mouth while you stood there with an exasperated look. Like he was the reason for the cookies being that way.

Egalmoth

◇ He wants to make gingerbread houses, cinnamon rolls, a ton of cookies and cake and roast turkey or chicken all on the same day at the same time. He’s elaborate about the activity if you haven’t caught on.

◇ When it comes to designing, he’s in charge and has everything in order, down to how to position the desserts and food on the table. Perfectionist, often redoing the steps to get them right. “Patience is key, darling,” he reminds you and boops your nose with frosting.

◇ Despite his meticulous nature, he loves a good laugh when things don’t go right. The image in his head wasn’t aligning with the image displayed after piping frosting on the cake to resemble the Christmas tree you drew on the paper.

◇ Mentions something about your artistry skills when it comes to drawing needs to be worked on so he could have a better understanding of what he was working with. That was enough for you to dump flour on his head.

◇ Did not take his clothes and hair becoming a mess because he put a lot of effort into appearing splendid to bake alongside you. So, if he had to look like a mess, so did you. “You look cute with all that flour and eggs—I might bake you instead to eat.”

◇ By the time you two were finished, the way you two were a mess, might as well hop into the oven to bake. More ingredients were wasted than used, and you found yourself eating the remaining frosting and dough off your hand.

Rog

◇ Rog’s all about efficiency, turning your baking session into a well-oiled machine. For him, it feels as though he’s back in the forges, about to craft an art piece with meticulous create and precision.

◇ You ought to expect his knack for improvising, often adding unexpected ingredients into the mix with confidence. “Trust me, mírë. It will taste great.” As he throws in peppermint, nuts and extra vanilla.

◇ Between the two of you, you’re the one who steals dough from the bowl when he isn’t looking or bribes him with kisses to have extra cookies. So easily he falls for your charm because he can never say no with those puppy eyes.

◇ Somewhere in the mix, the oven malfunctioned, which was no strenuous task for Rog to fix. You got to stand by and hand him his tools while watching his muscles flex and look like something to take a bite out of.

◇ With his skills and confidence, you two will end up with a variety of cookies, some traditional, others experimental. “A little bit of everything makes the holidays nice.”

◇ You two made just enough cookies to eat and also share with his fellow Lords and craftsmen he works within the forges. He left the wrapping and little notes for you since he prefers your handwriting suitable for the holidays.

Maeglin

◇ He was surprisingly enthusiastic about baking, eager to try new recipes with you and make new memories. The entire time, he would stand close by as he listened to your instructions and your patient voice as you guided him on how to mix or measure.

◇ Did have a tendency to get lost in the process, forgetting to remember the baking or resting period, so you might get burnt cookies and overrisen bread. Can’t blame him, you’re in the kitchen, an obvious distraction.

◇ He compares his crafting to baking cookies and wonders how could something so simple be difficult as he held up a burnt cookie that didn’t match the snowflake stencil.

◇ Discovered that you should leave the decorating to him when you explained piping the frosting on the cake and icing on the cookies. Even the gingerbread house was a masterpiece after leaving it in his hands. He designed an entire castle.

◇ When you happen to run out of frosting and icing, or the edible beads, he suggests a trip to the pastry shop for more items which results in Maeglin growing excited at the assortment of decorations and requests to buy out the entire shop.

◇ By the end, most of your desserts are more decorations than cake and cookies to eat. The layers you might have to bite through before you taste the pastry is immaculate. At least he had fun participating.

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @zheiya @lamemaster @eunoiaastralwings @elficially-done-with-life @addaigio @hermaeuswhora

[lamemaster]

Elves Reaction to a Mythical S/O

Request: I saw the “ Feel free to request “ in the bio and I wanted to ask if you could write something like a Mermaid!Reader Or Fairy!Reader headcanons with Maedhros Celegorm Caranthir Glorfindel and Ecthelion? I would appreciate it <3

Characters: Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir, Glorfindel, Ecthellion

AN: Took some creative liberty with some of these but I hope you still like them. Also, the way I got carried away with Celegorm is not real. I hope you like it and thanks for requesting this! (Divider by @cafekitsune)

Celegorm- Celegorm lay wounded, his lifeblood seeping into the quiet forests of Beleriand. Beside him, Dior's lifeless form grew cold, devoid of the light that once animated it. As he awaited his inevitable end, Celegorm allowed himself a moment to embrace the surroundings. The scent of damp earth, the gentle rustle of leaves in the air, and the murmurs of the horrified trees—all of it reached his senses, and even in his pain, he found solace in these simple pleasures. He dared not contemplate his fate, for whatever awaited him was yet unknown. Suddenly, a subtle thrum of activity surrounded him, a buzz that reverberated through the forest. Even the trees whispered a name he couldn't grasp. And then he smelled it—the sweet, cloying scent of decay. It was reminiscent of rotting grapes, withering to produce wine, or overripe fruits dissolving into the soil. "Oh, look what they left us this time—one still alive," your voice chimed like a symphony of bells in Celegorm's pain-addled mind. From his blurred vision, Celegorm observed as flowers bloomed beneath your every step. And then, you stopped right in front of him. "Help," he managed to croak, and you laughed. Mirroring your laughter, Celegorm felt a surge of mirth course through him, even as his blood continued to flow excessively. "Ah, my pet," you crouched down, and Celegorm instinctively leaned into your touch as your fingers grazed his cheek. "Should I truly save you?" You tilted your head innocently, your silver-hued skin shimmering in the dappled sunlight. A crown adorned with sapphires rested upon your head, complementing the brilliance of your sparkling eyes. "Think carefully," you whispered with a playful smile on your lips, and Celegorm became captivated by their allure. "A bargain with the fae is no trivial matter." As a sharp pain invaded his mind and body, Celegorm's gaze lost focus. Your talons, sharp and unyielding, grasped his wound, prying it open further. Despite the agony coursing through him, Celegorm found himself nodding, his voice barely a plea, "Please…". “Alright, then elf,” in seconds the wound that you had pried open closes and Celegorm stares in disbelief as his skin stitches itself back together under your touch. By the time you are done, there rests a brand where Dior’s sword had once impaled him. Your brand on him.

Ecthellion- Long ago, in the Ages of the Trees, Ecthelion had felt the weight of the ocean, a burden he carries with him even now. However, it is not the brine of the ocean that floods his lungs, but the water of his own fountain, leaving him gasping for breath. The misery he experiences now seems more profound than the incident of his childhood. Back then, he held onto hope that someone would come to his rescue, and indeed, you had come. Through the darkness, you swam with your shimmering green tail, and in your arms, you cradled a young Ecthelion. That single act had been enough to ignite his fascination with Alqualondë, drawing him to its shores in search of glimpses of you, the mermaid familiar with the Teleri's realm. Admiration had blossomed into love as Ecthelion fell for his savior. But now… hope has faded. Ecthelion finds it harder to believe in the possibility of a rescue as he drowns in the shallow waters, mere feet from the depths of the ocean. The day he departed the bloodied shores, he shattered any chance of your care. He knows you would not spare a thought for one who sided with the kinslayers. “I wish I had left you…I wish I hadn’t saved you,” the echoes of your final words haunt his ears, replaying over and over as he envisions your tear-stricken figure on the ravaged shores. Even as he draws in the water, he feels his own tears mingling with it, his heart heavy with regret.

Caranthir- Caranthir sighed in frustration as the thread snapped once again, the fifth time within the last two minutes. "Will you please stop already?" he exclaimed, giving up on the futile game of searching for the elusive cause of his thread's constant breaking. Finally, he looked up towards the branch where you sat, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. "Oh, me?" you replied, feigning an expression of shock, vigorously shaking your head. "How could I have possibly done anything from wayyyy up here?" Your playful act may have fooled others, but Caranthir, after years of knowing you, remained unconvinced. Caranthir's frustration simmered as he contemplated your mischievous presence on the branch above. His impulse to chuck a rock at you was quickly suppressed, knowing it wouldn't deter your playful nature. But you weren't oblivious to his internal struggle. With a dramatic flourish, you folded your wings, mocking innocence evident in your eyes. "Oh, look at you," you taunted, your voice carrying a blend of seriousness and amusement. "What did a poor, dainty little fairy do to you? I hope all your needles break and all your threads end up in a tangle." Despite the biting nature of your words, a glimmer of mirth danced in your gaze. Tired of your antics, Caranthir abandoned his position and began to make his way back. But before he could take more than a couple of steps, he felt a familiar weight land upon his back. Your arms encircled him, and your head rested gently on his shoulder. His hands instinctively moved to support your legs, preventing any chance of you slipping. "Forgive me," you whispered softly, your fingers idly playing with his braids. Caranthir didn't utter a single word in response, but the way he his hands securely supported your legs on each side spoke volumes.

Maedhros- Maedhros found himself engulfed in a sea of grief, his heart heavy as he watched his father burn the ships that were meant to aid their kin. The weight of witnessing his father's gradual descent into darkness, coupled with the burden of blood and oath, had taken its toll on Maedhros. The shores were ablaze with the burning remnants of the ships, and amidst the chaos, he discovered you. Your countenance was hidden beneath the veil of long, flowing hair, but one striking feature remained exposed—a majestic teal tail that identified you as a creature of the sea. Lying on the shore, your body bore the scars of burns, rendering you unconscious and vulnerable. Drawn by an invisible force, Maedhros knelt beside you, gently parting the strands of hair that obscured your face. In that moment, he couldn't discern whether it was love or lust that gripped his heart, but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from you. As he pulled you from the water, your tail transformed into naked legs, signifying a profound change and a bridge between worlds. Draping his cloak over your form, Maedhros carried you to the sanctuary of his tent. With tender and feather-soft touches, he applied a healing paste to your wounds, his eyes fixated on your closed eyes. In that intimate exchange, he felt an indescribable connection. You belonged to him, bound together in mind, heart, and soul, intertwining with his own unguarded being. When the following morning arrived, you awakened, your memories of the past washed away like wet ink fading on a page. A new dawn emerged, and the eldest Feanorian rejoiced. For in your rebirth, he saw an opportunity to offer himself to you completely. The sea had dared to separate him from his home, his mother, his people and so he took away something precious from it. Something he keeps a secret even as he hangs from the cliff of Thangodrim. You are to him as the Silmarils were to Feanor. Even in death, Maedhros' spirit would follow you as you traversed the world, your past forgotten in the depths of ages long gone. You were his eternal companion, a tether to a forgotten era, forever intertwined in the tapestry of destiny.

Glorfindel- "Do you truly think Asfaloth's bells are better than mine?" you ask, your figure delicately balanced on the balcony as you fix a piercing glare upon Glorfindel. He finds himself in a predicament he never anticipated, caught off guard by your sudden confrontation. "It's not a matter of comparison, really," the Balrog slayer tries to deflect, hoping to avoid further conflict. However, you refuse to let him off the hook so easily. "Oh, really? Because if I recall correctly, your past romantic odes were filled with praise for the sweet chimes of my own bells, not those on Asfaloth," you remark, plucking at the tinkling bells adorning your anklet to emphasize your point. "These bells carry the essence of my magic, and yet, you hesitated. You faltered at Elohir's foolish question." Glorfindel winces, inwardly cursing Elrond's son for inadvertently causing this current predicament. Stepping closer to you, he channels his sweetest voice, accompanied by a subtle loosening of the top buttons of his shirt. "Melda," Glorfindel begins, his voice tender and sincere, "there is truly no comparison. Even Asfaloth's bells were born out of the days when I pined for you." He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips, as you instinctively reach out and fiddle with the buttons of his shirt." Is that true?" you inquire, a hint of vulnerability lacing your voice. Glorfindel nods, relief washing over him. Crisis Averted for now. He would make sure to apologize to Asfaloth tomorrow.

[mur4sak1]

What would elves do if you spilled a drink on your dress?

A/N:Hi everyone, this is my first headcanon, I really hope you like it.<3 This idea came to my mind by casually reading other headanons but I think it could be nice and original, in short, something different! (English is not my first language but I hope I wrote in the best way).

Situation: We are at an important party full of elves in a large decorated hall. You accidentally spilled the drink on yourself and you don't know what to do but your elves help you to deal with the situation.

Glorfindel=the blond elf would be the first to notice and he was about to laugh when your expression of sadness and fear about the judgment of others changed his expression. He took a drink off the table, came over to you quickly and spilled it all over himself to make it look like it was his fault: “sorry honey,” he said with a smirk. He turned to the elves he was talking with, saying he would take you to another place to change. Once you get away from everyone, you would both laugh together and realize how lucky you are to have him.

Ecthelion= You had just spilled your drink because of a high elf, who had bumped into you; compared to everyone you were quite short and you were sure that sooner or later someone would have bumped into you but you didn't think it could get you into that mess. Echtelion, who was talking to Duilin turned to ask you if you wanted something to eat but as soon as he saw you in that situation he took off the blue cloak he had around his shoulders and used it to cover you. Then he walked with you to the nearest bathroom so he could help you fix that. "I can't leave you alone for a second". His fake angry voice drove you crazy. You approached him and gave him a kiss on the nose. The elf immediately blushed but continued to clean your dress carefully.

Maedhros= oh boy, this elf is gorgeous. As soon as he saw you wet in front of a whole group of high elves he blushed and immediately thought how pretty you looked trying to dry your dress with a handkerchief. You were so small compared to them that you looked like a helpless child. Fingon, who was with you two, brought him back to reality and invite him to do something to help you instead of standing there because he was starting to look like a maniac. After the embarrassment caused by his cousin, he took you to a room used by those who worked in the castle, sat you on a table and began to dry the fabric with a cloth very calmly. "You do not say anything?" you asked him. “What am I supposed to say,” he replied. "Why are you so red?". He hadn't realized it but he was still blushing from the episode that took place in the hall. He started using the cloth faster, so much so that you had to tell him to slow down or he would break your dress. You both started laughing and after a kiss you went back to the room, with Fingon's satisfied look near the drinks table.

Celegorm= let's be honest, Celegorm could easily laugh in front of everyone at the scene if he wasn't really in love with you, but I'm sure this elf's heart can be won too. In case you were the lucky one, he would have the opposite reaction: he would not try to throw all the attention on you but to act as if you didn't exist. He would look at the elves he was talking with and, after a laugh at the end of the speech, he would walk away taking you by the arm and making his way through the crowd. “You are incorrigible” he would tell you as you walked down a long corridor with irony. He tried to deny it but he loved this side of you

Galdor (warning: anxiety reader) = the sweetness made in person. As soon as he saw you anxious about the stain that had created on the dress he turned to you and asked in a low voice if everything was all right. At your positive answer he reassured himself and very calmly accompanied you away from everyone. The tranquility was only apparent because inside he was afraid you would feel sick with embarrassment; it was an important party and he knew how much you wanted to make a good impression in front of everyone. Once alone he helped you eliminate the stain and you stayed a while together talking about all the lords you had met making huge laughs that put your good mood back. Then you two went back to celebrating. Galdor was proud of you and how, despite your fears, you were able to face all those people head on.

[maedhrosiseverything2me]

Y/N singing in the halls of mandos.

Y/N: OHHHHHHHHHH who drowned in his own fountain?

Glorfindel, pointing at Ecthelion: This. b!tch. right. here.

Ecthelion:

Ecthelion: Well at least I didn't die because of my hair.

Glorfindel:*gasps*

Y/N,hugging Glory: what the hell is wrong with you, you know he is very sensitive!

Glorfindel, nodding: hmm hmm

Ecthelion:

Ecthelion: I'd drown myself on purpose if I weren't dead already.

[lovefairymina]

Oh my god Ecthelion you’re so kind to help me out!!! I didn’t expect that. I was thinking like, “wait a second, this guy is solving my problems now? Gold star!” Bend down so I can give you a kiss on the cheek, my love

Confusion set upon his brow, and soon his entire face followed, with an exhale, he gingerly bowed to grant you his face. “I must say, I am unsure of what I have done to warrant this thanks. Nonetheless, I am thrilled to learn that my assistance has been of great usage.”

[theelvenhaven]

Jealous Ecthelion

Request: May I request a Jealous!Ecthelion? Maybe Reader has been talking about someone she kinda admires and he gets the green eyes 👀💚 of envy. He thought he was your No. 1 :(((

A/N: I wasn't quite sure if this was supposed to be a fic or a set of headcanons but I made it into headcanons.

* * *

⫸ Ecthelion likes to think of himself as someone who isn't capable of getting jealous, and is often times proud of that fact because he trusts you so deeply.

⫸ So when it comes to you speaking about people you admire, Ecthelion usually takes things in stride and doesn't jump to conclusions.

⫸ He enjoys listening to you rave about your favorite whomever- friend, author, artist, etc. that you have had the chance to meet and spend time with.

⫸ If anything he will usually contribute to the conversation, keeping it going until you have spoken about it til your heart is positively content with all that you wanted to say.

⫸ So when you come to Ecthelion one day talking about how you really like another Lord in the Houses of Gondolin, Ecthelion feels a little pang of jealousy strike him right in the chest.

⫸ At first he just ignores it and tries to just focus on listening to you talk about it, because clearly this conversation and admiration you have for this Lord are harmless... right?

⫸ But the more he listens to you speak, the more jealous he becomes.

⫸ Ecthelion knows it is entirely irrational that he is feeling this way about the Lord you are speaking of, I mean you two have a romantic relationship why would he need to worry? Right?

⫸ But when he realizes that you aren't going to stop talking about the Lord you have suddenly come to admire it only serves to make him positively green with envy.

⫸ Ecthelion grows surprisingly short with you about who you are talking about and doesn't take the time to indulge you in questions to keep the conversation going.

⫸ It doesn't take long for you to catch onto the fact that something is wrong seeing as he isn't indulging you like he usually would when you come to him about someone you admire.

⫸ When you ask him what the matter is and if you've done something wrong, Ecthelion plays it off pretty heavily, trying not to clue you into the fact that he's jealous.

⫸ But when you keep pressing he becomes short with you again, not wishing to confess to you that he's jealous of you speaking about another Lord.

⫸ It is only then are you able to put two and two together and realize that he's jealous of whom you are speaking about.

⫸ When you confront him, Ecthelion doesn't confirm nor deny that he's jealous, instead for a long moment he sits in quiet mulling over the fact that, yes he is indeed jealous.

⫸ It is only after a long moment of silence that he tells you that he's jealous hearing you talk about that Lord with such praise and admiration.

⫸ It comes as a shock seeing as he doesn't usually get jealous of anyone that you speak about otherwise.

⫸ When you offer him reassurance that he's the only for you and the only one who has your heart it certainly offers to act as a soothing balm.

⫸ Ecthelion is certainly glad to hear from you that you admire him too and that you love him.

⫸ With a few kisses to spare and holding his hand, it certainly simmers down the jealousy and Ecthelion apologizes to you for behaving the way he did and explains that it was unbecoming of him.

⫸ You simply take it in stride and accept his apology and hope to offer him reassurance again if he ever needs it.

* * *

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[sanisse]

Blindfolding - Ecthelion x fem!Reader!!

KINKTOBER 13: BLINDFOLDING - ECTHELION x FEM!READER

Spice level:  🌶️🌶️ (fairly mild. This is pretty fluffy due to Ecthelion being Ecthelion).

MINORS DNI

Ecthelion ties the strip of fabric like a promise. His fingers are swift and the knot is sure. His fingertips dance over the place where the hem meets your skin and he asks: 

“Is it too tight?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s perfect.”

You can’t see a thing. Ecthelion has drawn the borders of your world for you in silk, soft as sin, blocking out everything, everything for the next few hours. 

(For it will be hours. Ecthelion likes to take his time).

His lips are warm as he kisses the seam of your shoulder, then drags his mouth along your neck to suck at your pulse. You push back into the touch. For now this is all there is: the place where skin meets skin, his mouth against your heartbeat, his hands as they skim your stomach and hips, his chest — you push back against it — solid and safe as a seawall.

“Breathe,” he says in your ear. “Just breathe.” 

He rests his palm to your chest and coaches you to suck in air, to push up into his palm and then to cave back, back, back against him when you let out your next breath. And again: in. And again: out. Until the air in your lungs forms a circle. Until your heart is steady. Your head light. And every single touch is magnified a hundredfold. 

Ecthelion has a way of doing that: of transmuting time to honey, thick and slow and sweet. He lavishes your neck with his kisses, nips at your jaw, breath hot in your ear.

When he dips his hand between your legs, you sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.

“That’s it, meleth,” Ecthelion whispers. “That’s it. Don’t think.” 

Don’t think. 

He makes it easy. He knows how to play your body with the same ease and skill as he can play his flute. You gasp when he pushes two fingers inside of you and curls, fucks in, out, lets you gush around him – his pace is somehow rhythmic while never actually catching on something that you can come on, never touches you in the same way twice, has you guessing, wondering, wanting, begging— 

He croons in your ear when you beg. Shushes you. Tells you yet again: don’t think. Just feel. 

He nibbles at the edges of the blindfold, runs a hand over your chest to swipe his thumb over first one nipple, then another, then guides you — gentle and slow — to lay back against the mattress. 

When he settles over you and rolls his hips, he’s hot and hard against your core. You whine, canting up blindly, seeking him, and Ecthelion just chuckles, fond and syrupy, and dips to kiss the hollow of your throat.

“Mine?” he asks against your skin. 

You melt against the mattress, hands coming to anchor on his chest. Here, in the sweet darkness Ecthelion’s fashioned for you, he is solid and sure. A guiding star against the velvet-black night.

“Yours,” you agree. 

Ecthelion sighs, content, lines the head of his cock up against your waiting heat, and finally, finally sinks home.

[autumnshighlady]

DROP YOUR SILMARILLION CHARACTER X READER REQUESTS! I will mainly write for:

feanor

fingolfin

maedhros (!!!!)

maglor

celegorm

glorfindel

ecthelion

finrod

elrond

melkor (!!!!!)

sauron (!!!!!)

i will possibly write for other characters if requested but these are the main ones i’ll do :)

if i wrote reader insert fics with characters from the Silmarillion would anyone read them?

[doodle-pops]

Alright big BIG question!

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

I really like your blog by the way! 😃

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

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

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

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

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

[ladyoflindon]

Just to be clear, the elves in question include the Fëanorians, Nolofinwëans, Arafinwëans, Lords of Gondolin, Lords of Doriath, and elves from Imladris.

For whichever category you voted for, please comment and specify which elf you would like me to write for. Feel free to elaborate in the comments what kind of story, like the elements you’d like me to include, I should write!

Thanks a lot, everyone!

I want to write a Silmarillion fic. I love romance stories so it will be centered around a Silm elf and an OC! Comment which elf you think I should write about.

[lamemaster]

Ecthellion's Sister Reader

Genre: Fluff and feels

Summary: You weren't supposed to leave...

AN: To all the siblings who have endured the bittersweet pain of separation. (Also Ecthellion as a pouty baby is an adorable image in my head)

Tucked away in the nook of his balcony, Ecthellion gazes far into the horizon. The same direction that you had left. 

His mother and father were now tired of fretting after their youngest, who had given up on eating. He just stood there in his balcony. Waiting for you to return. His elder sister to return to him.

None had told him that the celebrations of your wedding would be succeeded by the gaping agony of your absence. It had come as a surprise, when instead of returning to your room next to his, you left.

And no matter how much he begged for, none helped him find you. Perhaps for the elders around him, his yearning was an adorable childish tantrum. 

How would they know the chasm in his heart. The anguish that leaves him incapable of moving from the balcony that looks in the direction you left in. 

How was this fair? Why did they have to take his sister? Why couldn’t your husband move in with them? Ecthellion for the thousandth time, wiped away the tears that flowed down his cheeks. Were you here, you would have consoled him long ago. And by now, bickered with him ten times.

He misses you.

His elder sister. The one whom he has known since the day of his birth. The sister, who begged for a sibling. The one who claimed him to be her gift. How…how could you leave him?

Was he not a gift anymore?

Clutching the flute you loved in his hands, Echtellion perches on the railing. You weren’t done teaching him yet. He barely knew the notes and the teary hiccups made it harder. 

Why in the blessed realm of Valinor, does his heart hurt? 

“Come back…come back,” he repeats tearfully. He is past the sulking tantrums. All that is left of grief is the sweetness of longing. 

And then in the blink of an eye, he is snatched off the railing into a tight embrace. His arms wrap in a hug and tears come back with great fevor. You were back. Hugging him as the trail of your own tears flowing freely as you pick him up. 

The crumpled letter in your fist that goes unnoticed, contains the words from your mother. A gentle plea for your brother, who seemed to have taken a hit from his sister’s departure to Valmar. 

A just a glance at the letter had been enough to rush back to the streets of Tirion. A canceled honeymoon and a frazzled spouse in tow. 

"Aww, you were absolutely adorable!” You wink at your husband as you both continue grilling the dignified scholar, your brother now claimed to be.

Memories of past still fresh in your mind and heart. “Ah yes love, of course I remember leaving Valmar like the sky had collapsed and a baby ecthellion,” he giggles noticing the bashful look on Ecthellion’s face. 

“You were such a lovely brother,” you squeeze his cheek which is rewarded by a swat, and mumbled ‘I was not’. 

The sight of a sobbing, dispaired Ecthellion had felt like the gravest sin of your life. A burden heavy with the weight of his abandonment. A sin, your mother’s letter saved you from.

[lovefairymina]

How does it feel like to be ancient, Ecthelion?

Feeling as though he was about the suffer a stroke, he swivelled, nearly snapping his neck in the process and glared. “I beg your pardon?! Ancient? I'll have you know that I may thousands of years old, but not ancient. I'm youthful and beautiful, alright.”

[theelvenhaven]

Protective Ecthelion

Request: Protective Ecthelion as a request!!!! He’d make such a great protector high key— And plus I bet it feels heavenly to be in his strong arms 😍 He’d make you feel so safe, you’re his baby lol. 

A/N: Absolutely! I was happy to do this for you! I hope you enjoy anon! :)

* * * 

⫸ Ecthelion is a very responsible and logical elf, always unafraid to take charge and make sure things go smoothly and accordingly.

⫸ Everything he does is methodically planned out and Ecthelion isn’t afraid to shoulder any extra responsibility especially when that responsibility pertains to you.

⫸ You’ll find that despite all the logical things he does, when it comes to you, Ecthelion is pretty protective over you. 

⫸ Even if it might be illogical, considering you live in a very comfortable and safe space such as Gondolin. 

⫸ But before Gondolin, Ecthelion worried constantly about you going off and doing things without him, as he feared that something bad would happen to you.

⫸ So Ecthelion, not taking no for an answer, taught you how to both wield a knife and a sword.

⫸ Sword first seeing as he wanted you to be able to fight off opponents that might be bigger and more scary than you would even want to try and imagine- like Orcs in the event you run into them on your outings outside of Nevrast.

⫸ When Ecthelion was able to go with you ever was he on watch, listening to everything attentively, watching your surroundings and keeping close to you so he could be right there to keep you safe.

⫸ Though there have been times the two of you have gotten caught in an attack, and Ecthelion was quick to step in front of you and shield you from the harm that was coming right at you both.

⫸ It took him no time to dispatch those who intended to harm you, before he brought you into his arms in the aftermath to hold you close and console you.

⫸ When you two get to Gondolin, despite it’s safety Ecthelion still worries on occasion that something bad could happen to you despite knowing that you are safe and sound in it’s walls. 

⫸ He knows it is illogical, but he doesn’t relent on those feelings, simply masking them from any prying eyes and keeping it to himself.

⫸ Ecthelion, because he’s so protective over you, doesn’t do well with the rumors or ill spoken words aimed at you even if they seem harmful. 

⫸ First he will try and get to the bottom of these things and find out whose been saying such crushing words. 

⫸ He grows very stern as he hears these things from others no responsible for starting them, and advises them that it would be in their best interest to refrain from continuing to spread such lies and rumors to be hateful.

⫸ It’s not often that Ecthelion gets so stern, so when he does its enough to keep wagging tongues stilled and not keep on their gossiping.

⫸ When he finds the person that has been causing all the trouble, Ecthelion makes sure to reprimand them strongly with the promise of exposing them would be imminent if they refused to stop.

⫸ He’s an ellon true to his word and is happy to dole out his threat the moment it is broken.

⫸ You’ll always be safe and protected when you are with Ecthelion, no matter what it is that you might facing; whether it’s an orc or the ill words.

* * *

 Tags: @saviorsong​ @lilmelily​ @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101​ @celebrimbor-telperinquar​ @red-riding​ @miriel-estelwen​ @ta-ka-shi-ma​ @nerdysimpy​ @thegirlwithoutaname87​ @anunexpectedsideblog​ @spidergirla5​ @eunoiaastralwings​ @eternalabysss​ @noldorinpainter​

[eunoiaastralwings]

Can I get headcanons on how elves flirt in general or court someone they have a crush on? I'm assuming it's not like how humans do, since they are wise and fairer than most other races. 💘

How Elves Crush/Flirt or Being in Love ft. my original characters

pairing elves x reader (separate)

a/n I put many elves as I possibly could - added my ocs too (in italics). I may have changed it up a little - sorry it just flowed. As always I love for you @theladyvanya for helping me out with characters I haven’t written before

HOPELESS ROMANTICS: Sings songs or dedicates poetry or make handcrafted ornaments or trinkets to win you over - something made their with love and admiration for you. Sometimes stumbles when speaking to you. Showers you with compliments daily - although nervous. Brings flowers or handcrafted delicate hair clip pieces. Hair is important to very elf - but they would make it romantic, if even gifting giving is not your style. They makes things special and mark every little occasion and make it romantic. Basically they show their love to through gifts.

Maglor, Finrod, Nerdanel, Celebrian, Arwen, Galadriel, Celeborn, Fingon, Idril, Ecthelion, Míriel, Aredhel, Pre-Oath Maedhros, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Glorfindel, Lúthien, Beleg, Dior Lúthriel, Cóloniélë

THE OBLIVOUSLY OBVIOUS TO GIFT GIVERS: They are really head over heels in love without you - they are usually very stubborn act stern around most. But the moment you walk through that door, it like you ground them - suddenly whatever stress, frustration or anger they felt melted away with the site of you. They think they are being completely oblivious - but the stares and the visually relaxing of their stress-filled bodies, or how they speak to with the utmost care trying to throw in a few nice words here or there, that speaks volumes to others. They do not know show to show proper affection - or it would take time to learn so instead they showers you with gifts once they have come to terms with their feelings - once the gifts come in they will not stop until you tell them it is too much xD

Caranthir, Erestor, Thranduil, Feanor, Haldir, Feanor, Curufin, Argon, Post-Angband Maedhros, Ixalië

HELPLESSY AND HOPELESSY IN LOVE IDIOTS: The cannot make one sentence out correctly to their crush. They try to be discreet but it never goes as plans - easily when other elves easily point it out. They are blushing mess trying to speak with you. Sometimes they try the way of becoming your secret admirer - trying to build up their courageous through sweet little notes it trinkets, before they try and confess to you. They will stumble and fall over their words - embarrassed and flustered - they might try and make a run for it but hold on to them please.

Lindir, Maeglin, Caranthir, Finarfin, Penlod, Amrod, Amras, Beleg, Cala, Lúthriel

THE CONFIDENT ONES: They can be real flirts - yes the smirking, winking, innuendo jokes and all. They are not ashamed or embarrassed to flirt with you - but rather confident in their feeling of wanting to make you theirs. They try and snatch you up fast too as they are afraid of others trying to whisk you away - the faster your heart belongs to them the better. They will make it very obvious they are interest in you so - except lots of PDA when trying to flirt with you, especially when you fall hard and fast.

Celegorm, Egalmoth, Elladan, Elrohir, Amrod, Amras, Glorfindel, Rog, Angrod, Valinor!Quildalótien

AFRAID TO FALL IN LOVE AGAIN: They are truly and utterly in love with you - but they are afraid of the feeling of love or falling in love again. Especially if you are a mortal - they either cannot give up their immortality and watch you pass away or gain mortality and leave behind their family - but if they are from a high rank family or already have children unfortunately they would need to choose the former and it the hardest choice they ever had to make. They are afraid of getting their heartbroken again - please cherish and love them for as long as you can. While crushing on you - they are very overprotective of you and thats how you will know - perhaps an argument breaks out where they have been bottling it all up. They need to know where you are all times to keep themselves sane too. Their overprotectiveness speaks for their lover for you. They are also afraid to put you in danger by being involved romantically with them.

Turgon, Caranthir, Elrond, Haldir, Nerdanel, Amrod, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Post-Angband Maedhros, Ecthelion, Míriel, Dior, Beleg, Argon, Aegnor, Middle Earth!Quildalótien, Cóloniélë, Cala

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

Imladris taglist: @queenstarlight2

[theerrorofmylife]

Witch Queen Ch. 4

Thorin x Witch!Reader

It took me hours to find the sword types for this stupid chapter, and even longer when I spent a literal week reading about Ecthelion and the fall of Gondolin when I didn’t even need or use any of the information.

I GOT A DOG!! That’s kinda why I haven’t been as active, training and caring for her takes a lot of time, especially when she’s so young. I’ve also been sick for the past several weeks. I’m sick with the flu one week then I catch a shitty chest cold the next, it’s hellish.

I drank a ghost energy drink so I could stay awake and focus at work. Instead, I made this 2-3,000 words LONGER THAN WHEN I STARTED. Hehe whoops, I cut it off so that it wasn't longer than 5,000.... it would have been like... 7,000 if I hadn't.

Warnings: General LOTR/Hobbit danger, chase scene, non-important character death, reader can't run (just like me), Thorin and reader are so soft and in love its disgusting, kissing, smooches, these two get just a tad handsy, cursing, Thorin being rude to Elrond because he can be, elvish translated in italics directly after its said (unless translated by character). If there's any I missed, let me know.

“For you.” Turning to my right, I saw Thorin holding a sword out to me, the hilt glittering silver in the firelight of the ark troll cave. I recognized the thin scrolling designs and the soft, thin wrap of leather around the handle. It was of Elvish make, forged before my time, during the first age. I noticed another, very similar to it, in his other hand.

“It is beautiful, seronil, thank you.” I carefully took the blade from him, examining the sharp edge for nicks as he bound his own to his belt. Along the fine edge were several small places that looked worn, put to good use in battle I’d hope. It was not mine to examine for long before it was taken out of my hands. Looking up, Thorin had taken it and began strapping it to my side. My ears went hot as his hands ghosted my sides and my eyes scattered across the cave, only to find that the others had all left, most likely for shovels to make that ‘long-term deposit’.

“Âzyungâl,” He tightened the belt around my hips, and I lifted my face. I hadn’t even realized I was looking anywhere else besides him.

“These were forged in Gondolin… by the High Elves, of the First Age,” Gandalf spoke up from behind us, and Thorin’s face dropped into a scowl. Something about Thorin wishing we would have just a few minutes more to ourselves only to have Gandalf of all people interrupt him made me laugh silently. “You could not wish for a finer blade.” He was holding his own broad sword, straight and narrow opposed to our matching curved single edge falcatas. Leaning forwards, I pressed my lips to his cheek quickly before brushing past him and making my way out of the cave, paying extra attention to the ground as the reality of what I had done sets in. I hadn’t done that yet… neither had he, not really, I didn’t think kissing my hands counted quite the same.

 I snapped out of my thoughts as I nearly tripped, stopped short and looked up to take account of the others. They were scattered here and there, some talking about the gold in the troll cave, others talking about the journey ahead. It seemed like the calm after the storm had settled around us, as if we were finally going to get back to the monotonous journey once again. I could never be so lucky.

“Something’s coming!” Ori ran down from the rock top he was looking over. My hand reached over to pull my sword from my side as Thorin ran over and placed himself in front of me, his own sword already raised. A tethered pack of rabbits raced over the hill, pulling a sleigh behind it.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” A mad man raved as he came to a screeching halt in front of us. He was of man, not as tall as Gandalf, but younger, with a large nose and lichen growing down the side of his face, as if he were part tree. His hat had strange flaps at the sides, and his brown-greying hair and beard was matted and wild. A crazed look sat in his wide eyes, and he was rumbling nonsense. Gandalf was the first to move, placing his sword back at his side with a sigh of relief.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Radagast? He was one of the other Wizards Gandalf mentioned weeks ago. Relief quickly shifted to suspicion as Gandalf approached this new stranger, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” Radagast was out of breath, whispering bad omens and glancing about like he was scared of being watched.

“Yes?”

“Just give me a minute. Um…Oh! I had a thought and now I’ve lost it. It was…it was- was right there, on the tip of my tongue! Oh! It’s not a thought at all! It’s a silly old… stick insect.” A long green bug crawls out of his open mouth and I have to look away not to be sick at the thought. The two walk off, Gandalf separating Radagast from the prying eyes of the company. An unease settled over us as we lowered our weapons but not our guard. The two talked for some time, and some of the company had sat down, others conversing in small groups, while sat with Bilbo, talking about home.

He missed his home so much and he spoke of it so fondly of his house and his books and his peaceful days. He had many neighbors whose company he enjoyed, family who he dedicated his time to, and even the luxury of six meals a day. I’d like to think that, over the course of these past several weeks, I had found a friend in Bilbo. Much like a confidant, he seemed to be one of the few I could openly talk to about things without the topic of Thorin always coming up. For 13 dwarves who spent much of their lives with him, they sure do ask me about him a lot.

Howling in the distance set the party on edge. No one moved, some didn’t even breathe, all hoping the howling would pass.

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo asked quietly beside me. I shook my head, knowing wolves would be better than what it actually probably was.

“Wolves? No… that was no wolf.” I whispered. Thorin came running down from the cliff’s edge, rocks sliding as he made a fast descend to the rest of the group.

“Warg Scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind.” Everyone began moving so fast, packing things and readying themselves. I stuffed my things into my pack, my mother’s book getting shoved in carelessly. Gandalf was yelling, something about telling someone something, I wasn’t really listening. I was brought out of my frenzied rush by Dwalin brushing past me.

“We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t! We have no ponies. They bolted.” Panic was setting in. In the near distance, the howling and barking got louder. Glancing around the group, I met Thorin’s eyes. He met mine as he looked around the group. He didn’t know what to do, how could he, this was the first time any of us heard about Wargs and Orcs being on our tail.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast spoke up, and Gandalf quickly tried to shut him down.

“These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try.” I didn’t know what Rhosgobel rabbits were, but if it gave us a chance then I’ll take it.

As soon as Radagast’s sleigh cleared the tree line we made a run for it. All of us running low to the ground I don’t remember the last time I ran like this. My chest burned, the air cold on my throat, cheeks flushing. We moved from rock cluster to bolder, dodging the Wargs’ line of sight and praying the Radagast kept them busy enough for us to make it to the next rock cluster. Running up and down hill was killing me. My mind raced with unhelpful thoughts; ‘what if we didn’t all make it?’ ‘What if I didn’t make it?’ ‘Can Wargs be quiet enough to surprise us and kill us off one by one?’ Like I said, very unhelpful. Gandalf was leading us northeast, and something about it seemed familiar. I didn’t have time to ponder it though, because the farther we got from our starting point, the closer Radagast and the Warg pack got.

We were all waiting behind a single large rock cluster when claws scraping against stone and hungry growling slowly crept over the hill to our backs. We pressed ourselves to the stone, clinging to the hope that maybe the Warg and its rider would not see us. Little chips of stone fell on my shoulders as loud snorts made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on point. I think I was shaking, just a little, and my eyes focused on the expanse of yellowing grass, staggered pines, and tall, sharp stones. A hand unfocused my eyes as it came to hover above my collar bone. I followed the wrist, then the forearm, then the bicep, then the strong jawline, to the grey-blue eyes more focused on telling Kili to shoot the damn thing. The second his arrow flew we were made. He didn’t kill the scout, instead it took a second arrow to trip the Warg, and it tumbled off the hill in front of us. The scout got to its feet and ran at us, but Dwalin drove his axe into its side while Nori stabbed it repeatedly. It made so much noise, the sounds of the chase beyond had gone quiet. I shouldered Thorin out from in front of me, stretching my arm out to see the Warg hound clearly as I imagined holding the Warg’s skull in my hand, just above its spine. I pulled at the imaginary feeling until I just nearly felt it tangible and twisted my wrist harshly. The Warg’s neck snapped abruptly, and we all froze as the hills around us fell deathly silent. A horn, yelling in Orcish, and the howling started again, coming for us.

It wasn’t long before we were cornered, surrounded. We were all separated, in little groups of two or three, staggering and breathless. Looking over Nori’s shoulder, I caught sight of the boys and Thorin, a ways out to our left. Kili was shooting them one by one, but it did little to damage them. If he happened to land a successful shot, another Warg replaced it fast. My vision was blurring as I tried to keep track of everything. I couldn’t tell whether we were missing someone or if that was just the dizzying turn of my eyes.

“Where’s Gandalf?” Wait, what, where was Gandalf? He’s taller than everyone, he shouldn’t be hard to miss, so where-

“This way, you fools!” He appeared from behind a rock and the confusion mixed with the fear and the relief and made me sick. All this running was making me dizzy. I wasn’t built for running, I’m 5” with the physique of a relaxed walker… not a runner. One by one dwarves fell into the hidden tunnel, falling on top of one another, elbows, knees, and backpacks clashing down the steep fall. I pulled my arms up to shield my head as I rolled down the slope. My back hit the sharp ground, then my arms, then my back again.

Standing from the gravel littered ground, I began brushing myself off while narrowly avoiding elbows as the Dwarves did the same in the close proximity of the tunnel entrance.

“Kili! Run!” Thorin’s voice echoed down into the cave. The boys, Fili and Kili, were still out there. Fili came sliding first, and I grabbed his arms, pulling him out of the way as Kili followed shortly after. Watching the cave entrance, the longer it took for Thorin to join us, the longer panic took me over. Rocks and pebbles rained down on us as he came skidding to a halt. I breathed, filling my lungs fully for the first time since meeting Radagast. A horn sounded from somewhere nearby, and large hands pushed me back behind the party as a body fell after Thorin. An orc, unmoving, with an arrow sticking out of its back. Thorin pulled the arrow, examining it before throwing it in disgust. “Elves.”

The fear and sudden relief mixing in my chest were starting to make me sick. Looking over, I saw Thorin already looking at me, head tilted slightly as if to ask a question. I smiled and let my chest sink into a sigh as I nodded. I was ok. We were all ok.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin interrupted our silent conversation.

“We follow it, of course!” There was shoving, and the party was slowly forming a line to walk down the path.

“I think that would be wise.” I heard Gandalf mutter and realized that this was part of his plan. He led us here, knowing we would find this place, and he knows where it leads. Thorin realized the same thing.

“Where are you leading us...?” He didn’t get a response, only a strange look before Gandalf walked off to keep the others on track. The others passed me, each nodding towards me, like a gesture of acknowledgement or respect. It was weird but I moved past it. I went to follow, but a hand pressed against my back and on instinct I relaxed back into the warmth. Thorin wrapped his hand from my back around to my side and pulled my back against his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to my left shoulder. “Are you alright, My Lady?”

I smiled again, turning to meet his eyes. “Yes, My King, simply not built for running like that.” He chuckled low nodding.

“You and me both.” He kissed my shoulder again, slowly this time, moving from my shoulder up my neck until he was pressing slow kisses on my pulse point, under my jaw. We really should catch up with the others. His hands held me tighter, holding me fast against his chest. No matter how warm he was against me, he gave me chill bumps along my arms and down my back, my neck slowly leaning to the side as if to open up for him. He littered my neck with his kiss as his hand slowly lowered from my side to my hip bone, grabbing, as if desperate to go lower.

“Thorin?” Dwalin calls from far along the pathway. My whole-body tenses and Thorin lets out a silent laugh. I’m glad he finds getting caught so amusing.

“I’m following, Dwalin. Let me go at my own pace.” His hands moved to my waist to rub circles into my back with his thumbs.

“Aye. And is the Witch moving at your pace as well?” My face flushed red and Thorin kept laughing. This bastard-

“She is.” He called after Dwalin and sighed into my shoulder. “Let’s go, My Lady. I fear I’ve kept you for too long.” We walked along the stone pathway, the rocks towering above us to create a ravine that let the sunlight dance down on top of us. I walked behind Thorin, fingers locked with his, and we trailed behind the others at a distance so that we could talk.

“What are we going to when we get to the end of this? Gandalf knows where we’re going, and I feel like I do to- I just can’t place it.” Thorin nodded.

“Wherever we end up, we stay close together, and we do not let our guard down. I don’t care if it’s a friendly place we’re headed to. If anyone catches wind of our true intentions, to enter the mountain and reclaim it, they will try to stop us.” I hummed in agreement. Since leaving Bag End, I had found it hard to disagree with his rough, secretive outlook on this quest. Clearly things were not as they seemed when it came to the mountain.

“What if it’s the elves? Gandalf had been asking about seeing them before the trolls, is it unreasonable to think he would lure us to them?” Thorin visibly sulked at the thought but shook his head.

“No, that’s most likely exactly what he’s doing. Whatever they want, they will not have.”

“And if they want to help us?” He shook his head again.

“They won’t, and you know it. We must be careful Amrâlimê.” I nodded but suddenly had a thought that had never occurred to me before.

“What does that mean?” He stopped, turning confused.

“What does what mean?”

“Amrâlimê. What is that word? You’ve said other singular words like it too, but I don’t recognize them. And the other A- one and the I- one! I do not know these and yet-”

“What are you talking about?!” He interrupted me and my eyes widened in annoyance. He wasn’t answering me, and I felt like he was doing that on purpose.

"There was one that Kili called me, Irak-something! Thorin, please!” He smiled and shook his head, that rare smile like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Irak’Amad, My Lady, is Aunt.” It took me a second to process but when I realized I smiled so wide my eyes crinkled. Fili and Kili have been calling me Aunt and I didn’t even know.

“And the others?” He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes, his hands coming to sit on my hips again.

“Sanâzyung means perfect love,” he leaned in, pulling my chest against his. The way he spoke his native tongue, deep and rumbling in his chest, it made my head hazy. “and Âzyungâl means lover,” His head tilted down, lips a breath away from mine, so close I could feel him speaking against mine. “and Amrâlimê… means my love.” He gently pressed his lips to mine and suddenly the very thought of not kissing Thorin felt detrimental to my health. We had never kissed like this before; it had always been on the hands or shoulders. We were always with people, or in danger, never alone with no one to interrupt. It was slow, and I gently wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, threading my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He sighed through his nose, and we would have stayed there like that for hours had we not heard the others. Gasps of surprise and Dwalin calling Thorin’s name, sounding mildly panicked, broke us apart once again and this time it was I who sighed in agitation.

“We will never be alone, will we.” He gave a wry smile, pressing his lips to mine again, quickly this time. I didn’t want this to end, who knows when we’d get another chance to be so close. But the mission pressed on, and the road was long before the end of our journey.

 We caught up with the others and I was stunned at what I saw. Tall, spiraling, elegant towers, graceful waterfalls under delicate bridges stretching across the great expanse of the mountain’s edge. Great halls with high arches and curving stone glittered in the afternoon light. The great Elven estate was built in the mouth of the valley, looking out over the river as it extends east.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it’s known by another name.” Gandalf spoke over our awe, rounding the ledge as we all looked on.

“Rivendell.” A whisper came from my left and I looked over to see Bilbo, eyes wide.

“Here lies the last homely house, east of the sea.” I remember coming here, once, a long time ago with Thranduil. I was incredibly young, and I don’t remember the details, but I remember the feeling. This is home, without it every having been home. Thorin moved past me, anger masked by narrowed eyes and squared shoulders.

“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy.” ‘Enemy’ was such a harsh word and yet I couldn’t really find fault with his point of view. I disagree, I believe Lord Elrond will help us more than hinder us, but in Thorin’s mind it wasn’t just Thranduil that abandoned his people that day. To Thorin, it was every Elf, every person who aligns themselves with the Elves or calls the Elves friend was liable to Thorin’s distaste.

Gandalf sneered at him, scrunching his nose as he snapped at Thorin, “You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.” The king tilts his head, wryly calling the ancient wizard’s choices into question. Gandalf had none of it, acutely aware of what Lord Elrond would have to say.

“Of course, they will. But we have questions that need to be answered,” He walked through the party, making his way to the stone step path that led down to the first bridge. “If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to me.” I rolled my eyes. Thorin went first and I followed second, taking his hand to step down as the steps became steeper and more detailed. We walked shoulder to shoulder in pairs along the narrow bridges until we came to two tall Elven statues standing guard in front of a large circular courtyard. We filed into the courtyard, slowly regrouping and breaking off to talk separately in smaller groups. I stayed near Thorin, my hand resting against his shoulder as he and Dwalin discuss escape routes. From the steps above, a young Elf passes by two guards and almost don’t recognize him.

“Mithrandir.” Lindir was the right hand of Lord Elrond and had been for some time now. I had known him when he was younger, and to think that he had risen so far was surprising. He was always so… carefree as a young Elf. The two stepped closer, speaking Quenya in hushed tones. Thorin turned his head to Dwalin and I.

“Stay sharp, and you stay behind me.” I snapped my head towards him.

“I know the people here. Lord Elrond is a kind man, he will help us I know it, please trust me.” He met my eyes with skepticism, but I stared him down, knowing I was right. Suddenly a horn sounded behind us, and the clattering of dozens of horse hoofs spooked the company.

“Close ranks!” I was pulled back into a crowd of dwarven elbows as they close in around each other. The hunting party circles us until they have is hidden by rings of Elven warriors. A man I had met only a few times in my life dismounts from the head of the hunting party and approaches Gandalf happily.

“Gandalf!” He smiled wide and it felt like I was in the presence of peace and tranquility. Like he polluted the air with a calm demeanor and made everyone feel safe. Everyone except the dwarves. Gandalf bowed and began speaking with him in Quenya, too fast for me to easily translate. I slipped my hand into Thorin’s, pressed so close to each other that no one noticed. Until I was addressed.

“(Name), Niethir iin Eryn Galen, Thranduilwen!” (name), Niethir of the Greenwood, daughter of Thranduil! Looking up, I met his smile and reciprocated a relived one of my own.

“Hér Elrond!” I bowed my head and slowly eased my way out of the group. Thorin squeezed my hand, and I stopped short of leaving from directly in front of him. He held onto me, and I held onto him. Elrond saw this but made no note of it.

“Quenyalda aryaië?” Your Quenya is improving? My cheeks flushed as I remembered the promise I made to him when I was much younger. I told him I would learn every language I could, and that I’d be able to speak to him in perfect Quenya one day. At the time, I wanted to impress both him and Thranduil.

“Paranya, au lenca.” I am learning, if only slowly.

“Naylë arya malda nyanya,” You are better than most. I smiled widely and nodded in thanks. “Si casar, carltë lenda asillo?” These dwarves, do they travel with you? I looked to Thorin quickly before looking back to Elrond.

“Lá, málonya.” Yes, my friends. He nodded and grinned. Looking past me, he focused on someone else behind me and I felt Thorin’s hand tighten in mine.

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.” Thorin came to stand beside me as he was addressed.

“I do not believe we have met.” I almost sensed haughty arrogance from Thorin, like he was waiting to make some snide comment.

“You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain.”

“Indeed? He made no mention of you.” Ah. There it is. I rolled my eyes and met Elrond’s once again. The right corner of his lip quirked upwards so fast and so little that I almost missed it. Almost.

“Si gonnhirrim arldë alatulyaië imi Rivendell. Silómë merenlmë, málonlda arldë fúmë hí.” I sighed and smiled brightly, nodding happily in thanks. He turned and began walking back up the stairs but was stopped when Gloin spoke up in rage.

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” He pushed his way to the front. I jostled as the others moved to make room for him. Gandalf turned to us, obviously tired of the Dwarves’ antics.

“No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food.” The Dwarves froze and suddenly turned in to whisper tightly between each other. Thorin and I leaned in, and my lips just barely brushed his cheek.

“His exact words were that you are welcomed in Rivendell, and that we may feast and sleep here tonight, but Gandalf was never good at translating.” I spoke low and soft, so that he was the only one to hear me. He grinned and turned slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His lips were so close to mine, but the others had already started moving towards the stairs and there wasn’t time. He pressed our foreheads together, the side of his nose against mine, eyes closed. It lasted only a second or two, but it became my favorite thing. We were led up the stairs farther into the estate, past large columns and gorgeous waterfalls, other Elves passing us. They nodded towards me when they recognized me, and the Dwarves started to take notice. Thorin leaned into my side, the little braid that hung by his ear knocking into my shoulder.

“They know you here?” I nodded, still scanning the area as we crossed another bridge with no railings.

“I came here once a really long time ago, but it’s more likely they know me because I’m a witch, one of the last, remember?” There was a pause before he nodded, lips closed tight as if something suddenly bothered him. I saw this, but I couldn’t figure out what it could have been. Thorin was always stoic these days, always looking ahead for the danger, always thinking of what-ifs. Moments like this I remembered just how different he is now compared to when we first met. The carefree, smiling young man who led me down backstreets and alleyways got smothered by time and grief and hurt. “Thorin,” I bumped his shoulder with mine lightly, “What are you thinking?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, looking off in the distance, before looking down at the stone walkway. “You are the last of your kind… that never truly struck me until now. To be the last of your kind, alone in the world, without anyone who truly understands… I’m sorry.” I was shocked. I guess that made sense, though I never really thought of it like that. Yes, I was most likely, almost definitely, the last Witch in Middle Earth, but it didn’t make me as sad as it probably should have.

“Don’t be. As much as it sounds horrible, I don’t feel bad being the last.” His head snapped towards me, eyes wide and worried.

“Why-”

“Come, you are to feast with Lord Elrond. Then, you will be escorted to the bath houses. Lady Niethir, you are welcomed to the separate house for privacy.” I nodded in thanks before lowering my head to speak to Thorin quietly again.

“I’ll tell you later, Ara Nín. Let’s at least have tonight before we step back into the world.” He nodded reluctantly and took my hand in his, kissing the back before pulling me with him into the dining room with the rest of the company. 

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[caliawen]

Haunted

Pairing = Glorfindel x Reader

Genre = Teen and up

General ratings = a twinge of angst, fluff, smut implied (?)

Content warnings = smut implied

Word count = 1,4k

Notes = ……hi 🫣 I haven’t posted in a month 🙃 Life has been really busy and I haven’t really had the time (nor the motivation, truthfully) to write. I had a more regular schedule before, but I think for now it will stay… ‘irregular’. I have no idea when or what I will post next. Hope you can understand!

Glorfindel was being haunted. Not by ghosts- no. By the memories of his past life. Of his mistakes. Of his friends. Of their deaths. Of his death. The searing pain of his scalp as he was tugged down and down and down by the Balrog. Of the heat he felt as he fought for his life, for the lives of Idril and Tuor and Eärendil and everyone. His mind replayed those moments over and over, never leaving him a second of peace.

The slight smile of Ecthelion, Rog’s boisterous laugh, Turgon’s exasperation with them, Elgalmoth’s mischievous eyes as he gossiped, Penlod’s hums as he pretended he was listening, Galdor’s excited chatter about the trees and plants he saw, Duilin’s whistles as he walked, Tuor’s love-struck expression as his eyes followed Idril and Maeglin’s shy smile when someone asked him about his work…

Oh, Maeglin… Glorfindel had hated him, for a time. Hated him for giving Gondolin away to Morgoth, giving away their lives.. But that time had passed. In the halls of Námo, Glorfindel had had plenty of time to think before he was reborn. And think he did : about how Maeglin had lost his mother and father. About how his only parental figure was Turgon, who was too busy to really spend time with his nephew. About how he mistook his love for Idril as romantic and not platonic, and how that strained his friendship with her and Tuor. About how rumors spread that Maeglin was a vile being. About how none of them did anything to defend him. About how lonely Maeglin must have been.. About what impossible horrors he felt at the hands of Morgoth and Sauron. About how they never saw how broken Maeglin had returned. About how he didn’t care if he died anymore.

Yes, Glorfindel had thought, Maeglin had done something wrong. And he forgave Maeglin for what he had done, because Maeglin had been a child. A child who needed to be guided and shown love, but no one had stepped up to take up the role.

He thought about you. About your smile, your eyes, your nose. About the way you moved, how you talked and your passions. And he ached. Because he didn’t know what happened to you. He didn’t know if you had died, if you had suffered or if you were still alive. If you had moved on from him.. And that haunted him. His every waking thought, his every dream and nightmare.

Sometimes, Glorfindel dreamed of you. He dreamed that you were laying in his bed, in Gondolin, smiling at him. That you carded your fingers through his hair and told him that you loved him. And when he woke up, his heart ached and he did not know whether to thank or curse Irmo.

Glorfindel had a mission. He was going back to Arda Marred. And he found himself dreading going back. Dreading seeing how everything had changed and how the language had evolved. Dreading how no one he knew would be there. How he would be alone. At least in Valinor, he saw his mother and father. He found himself crying when he realized he did not remember what being embraced by his parents felt like. They took care of him and he couldn’t be more grateful to have them.

When Glorfindel departed, he stood looking at Valinor until it had been long since out of view. He stood still, wondering if he was dreaming. He thought, how ironic, for he was going back. Not anyone else. Him. Laurëfindelë Glorfindel, an emissary of the Valar, granted powers nearly as strong as that of the Maiar. And he didn’t want to go back. Nienna wept for him, for his sacrifice, for his fear and for his love. He found himself appreciating her understanding. She visited him, before he departed. He listened to her words, without understanding : “Dear Child, your heart is being haunted. Your mind is playing tricks on you, and your heart is rendered blind by your pain. But your gut, your gut is still there and strong. Follow it, follow what it tells you. But do not silence your heart and mind for it, listen to them. Listen, but do not follow.”

~~~

When Glorfindel arrived in Middle Earth, he did not know where to begin. He was tired, but could not sleep. He thought about you. About your lips on his, about your laugh, about your hands in his, about the ring he had passed on your finger. He thought and thought and thought. And his heart ached. He walked on paths and in forests, stopping to wash himself in rivers. And he despaired.

It was later that he found Lindon. Days later. Or weeks, he did not know. He met Elrond, someone who would confuse and amuse him for the rest of their lives. Part man, part elf, part maia. He wore the insignias of Fingolfin and Fëanor with pride, daring anyone to confront him about it. He was a gentle soul with a heart of gold and the patience of the wise. He was as kind as summer and Glorfindel found himself basking in his presence, like a flower who had grown up in shadow feeling the sun on itself for the first time.

Círdan was surprisingly mischievous. Subtle jokes, sarcasm and deadpan looks were all things he threw at others, uncaring if they understood or not. He was calm, but could easily terrorize anyone with his anger, like the sea. Board games were his favorite and Glorfindel spent time playing with him, thinking of strategies to beat the older elf.

Gil-Galad was as confusing as he was funny. His father was unknown and he liked to joke around about it. Glorfindel spent time with him when they could, talking about everything and nothing. When Gil-Galad felt Glorfindel starting to lose himself in memories, he would randomly tell a stupid joke. They made Glorfindel laugh each time.

Celebrimbor had been a bit weary at first. Glorfindel almost laughed at the memory of a small Curufinwë Tyelpërinquar staring at him with the exact same look. It wasn’t long until they became great friends. Celebrimbor understood : he, too, was haunted by his past actions and words. Maybe for different reasons than Glorfindel, but the important thing was that he related to how Glorfindel felt. Having his feelings validated was something that alleviated the pain in Glorfindel’s heart.

~~~

Glorfindel walked around Lindon aimlessly and leisurely, taking his time to look around. You haunted him. Everything he saw reminded him of you. From pretty rocks you would have collected, passing by a stand selling your favorite fruit, to someone wearing clothes the exact color of your eyes. His mind played tricks on him, making him imagine hearing your laugh or seeing your beautiful hair swaying in the wind.

He stopped walking at a bookstore, a feeling bubbling up inside him. He looked at the door, curious. His gut screamed at him to enter that store, for some reason. His mind dismissed the feeling, but his heart held hope. They warred against each other. And then, Glorfindel was reminded of Nienna’s words to him. And he went inside the store.

Inside the store, which was cozy and homey, he felt pulled towards a particular bookshelf. His breath hitched as his mind reeled to a stop, his heart pumping wildly. There you stood, browsing the shelf while smiling. Feeling observed, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw Glorfindel, your husband, your soulmate, standing there. Glorfindel was frozen, his mind scrambling and heart singing with joy. You were the one to make the first move, throwing yourself in his arms, ecstatic. Glorfindel hugged you back, a sense of wholeness overtaking his mind and body as he kissed you long and passionately.

The two of you spent hours upon hours talking, laughing, crying and hugging. This long-awaited reunion was a balm on Glorfindel’s bruised and battered heart. That night, under the stars, in a magnificent glade full of flowers, you rekindled your fëas. Glorfindel made love to you slowly and passionately, kissing every piece of skin revealed as he undressed you, worshiping your body with his hands and mouth. That night, in your arms, Glorfindel had no nightmares. He woke up to your sweet voice and felt free. Free of the thing that haunted him. And he smiled.

End notes : Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments & likes are extremely appreciated 🫶

@theladyvanya