#el loves elrond

[elis-corner]

maglor dies in this post so only go ahead if you need a shot of angst okay warning done

What if Maglor doesn't die right away? What if he tries to live on, but is so haunted by his mistake, that one day he starts drowning and his fëa and hröa are just too fucking tired to save him, just to live another wretched day of his cursed existence? What if Maglor dies thinking the world had forgotten him as anything but a kinslayer, had shunned his music, his wife moved on, Elrond despising him?

What if Elrond goes to find him, but he's too late, and Maglor is too far gone in grief and pain that he never finds him, not even a trace?

Because Feanorians are cursed to die, and Elrond is always forced to watch.

[elis-corner]

🎶 the cold never bothered me anyway 🎶

Run Elrond Run Game

Let's have fun and try to come up with tag lines for this scene. We need as many as possible. It is known. :-)

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

elrond explicitly preferring his sindarin heritage over his noldorin one and continuing in his own sons the "el-" prefix naming tradition that dior began in honor of thingol... sindar stans we stay winning

[voidselfshipp]

Howdy Jerico! Wanted to ask these for the rolodex ask game :>

8. Bauble: Does your f/o like to collect anything? If not, do they own something that brings them immense joy and satisfaction- if so, tell us about it! For Thandruil!

10. Vociferous: What are some things your f/o is passionate about? Why are they passionate about these things? Do you share their passions? How likely are they to get into a debate over their passions? For Elrond!

3. Izod: How tough is your f/o? Have they ever reached their breaking point and if so, what happened and how did they pick themselves back up afterwards + how did you help them through this time? For Legolas!

Lux @tex-treasures

Thank you Lux!!

Thandruil I see collecting beautiful Stones and gems, things he has hanging on his room because when the light hits them they shine and sparkle. I think something that brings him joy is his son! He May not look like it but his son makes him proud.

For elrond, he has a very strong sense of justice. Hence he is passionate about setting things right, not necessarily by the book but the right thing nonetheless, I think he'd be also passionate about elven philosophy. I share the sense of justice and the need to do things right.

For legolas,hes very thought but incredibly soft. He broke during the movies of The Hobbit. But for what reason I cant remember. But I think failing is what breaks him the most, every time he breaks himself down for failing I like to cuddle with him,pamper him and reassure him, hold him tight and Gently pet his hair, caress the shells of his ears and kiss him, his forehead,the tip of his nose.

When he feels better I urge him to try again and to not give up, hes always a happy elf, afterwards. My Ray of sunshine💞💕💛☀️

He has a Pep in his step,a big calm smile, little giggles and small jumps when he walks. Its adorable to see, my dearest elf Prince!

Thank you for the ask! Only mutuals allowed to reblog.

[wordbunch]

healer's healer [Elrond x reader]

a/n: WELL! look at that. the people want ROP Elrond and of course I give them Elrond ♡ it's short but bear with me - I haven't done creative writing in ages and I feel very rusty, but he deserves good things. 🥹

I didn't watch the S2 trailer bc I never do that, but I did see screenshots of baby El after some battle 😭😭😭 so this vaguely goes off of that. Enjoy! 💞

Your breath hitched in your throat as you hurried down the spiraling staircase from your chambers, having noticed a familiar (and beloved) figure on the horizon. Though he was approaching uncharacteristically slowly, without mistake it was your spouse in the distance, returning from his latest task along with his companions. As fast as your legs carried you, you ran out to meet them - well, Elrond - and your heart clenched at his disheveled and evidently injured state. Immediately you scurried to the horse he was on, all drawn into himself and with scars etched into his handsome face.

“Meleth nín,” you breathed out, helping him down as gently as you could muster. Elrond clung onto you as soon as you came in contact, as he held one arm protectively over his middle.

“Beloved,” he replied, fatigue dripping from his words. “I have returned to you… as promised.” His attempt at a soft smile turned into a painful grimace as you slowly walked to somewhere he could at least sit down comfortably. You helped lower him onto the nearest settee you could find and began anxiously examining his wounded form.

“I knew you would keep your promise, always,” you whispered to him, cradling his face in your hands with a feathery touch. The way he was looking at you was shaking you to the bone - in his storm-colored eyes you could see an echo of many a thing he had seen, found, and been through, and you could all but hear your heart crack. “Breathe,” you attempted to soothe him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he winced, meeting your eyes once again, shakily reaching for your hand laid across his scarred cheek. It was easy to notice his breaths were heavy and uneven. “I love you,” he added hastily, stopping your thoughts in their tracks, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get many more chances to lavish you in his feelings. “I-I did not know whether… whether I would have another opportunity t-to… tell you that… one more time.”

“My brightest star,” you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his and reveling in his presence after the agonizing weeks of uncertainty. Elrond soaked in your warmth and softly nudged his nose against yours. “We will not speak of such things, ever. You are home now, you are safe, and I am here.  We are going to get you healed, I promise. Neither of us is going anywhere, ever” 

“Until the whole Middle-earth is no more than a distant memory,” he quietly echoed the vows you had exchanged quite a few moons ago. You were hoping you could actually sense, and not that you were just deceiving yourself, that he was beginning to feel more at ease (if not less in pain) only through being in your arms once again.

“Meleth nín,” you inched back only slightly to look at his state, “do you think you could be strong enough to get up with me and walk to our chambers? I will hold you the whole time,” you squeezed his chilly hands in encouragement, eliciting a subtle nod from your spouse. “Then we will make you comfortable, warm, and I will do everything in my power to heal you. From the things you are able to tell me, just as much as from the things you cannot speak of yet.”

Immediately his arm was around your shoulders as he reluctantly rose to his feet. You heard him breathe through his teeth, but you knew he could do it. He was as strong as he was kind, and you were more than willing to bring back his joyous laugh and twinkling eyes.

“How strong have you gotten in these weeks, my dove,” he quipped, doing his best to lighten the somber atmosphere. “I have got a true elven warrior by my side.”

“I have only tried to match you, I admit.”

♡

I should try to somehow revamp my taglist too :/

[amethysttribble]

“He resembles Princess Luthien greatly,” Oropher said and Celeborn stiffened on instinct.

He side-eyed his kinsman, bracing for the impact of whatever came next. Oropher never made idle comments. Oropher epecially never made idle comments to him, not without the direct intention of starting a fight.

Celeborn hoped this wasn’t intended to be a fight. He’d promised Gil-galad, and more importantly, Galadriel, that they wouldn’t so much as bicker tonight. They were supposed to stand next to one another in solidarity and pretend like the High Council of Lindon wasn’t fracturing at the seams and about to fall apart, the direct consequence of Oropher’s words and desires and pride.

But right now, Oropher at least wasn’t speaking of their king- ‘I don’t remember choosing him, do you think you speak for all of us?’- but of the one standing next to him on the ballroom dais. Of perhaps the one person whose name and presence between them was just as, if not more, incendiary than Gil-galad’s. Poor Elrond.

“He does,” Celeborn replied mildly, biting his tongue before he could ask why Oropher was bringing this up now. It wasn’t like he’d never seen the young lord- no longer a boy, not a child by any race’s measure, though it was hard to remember- before. It wasn’t like they all didn’t meet and talk often enough.

“More than either Elwing or Earendil. Or her.”

And, ah. There it was.

“True enough,” Celeborn said, and he wasn’t sure if Oropher wanted him to agree or not, but he wasn’t going to lie.

Elrond took greatly after dear Aunt Luthien. In some lights it was slightly nerve wracking.

Oropher crossed his arms rather than reply immediately, his face closed off. Not stony or hard like at council meetings, but his thoughts and feelings were far away from any observer. He actually looked like the lord they pretended he was, rather than the rogue marchwarden he actually was; regal. When Oropher looked like that he reminded Celeborn of Galathil.

He looked away.

“I think, in the details though, they are more present. His cheeks, for example-“

“And it’s funny,” Oropher said, and he even huffed a very sad laugh, trying and failing to make it sound like he actually was joking. The two of them hadn’t shared a joke since… since.

Celeborn certainly wasn’t laughing. He closed his eyes and swallowed his annoyance at being interrupted. He knew Oropher did it on purpose, perpetually the preteen at his brother’s table delighting in ribald and shock.

And there were his words to consider.

“El-Elwing didn’t really take after Luthien very much.”

She didn’t. She’d taken after the person whose presence hung between Oropher and Celeborn like the unlight of Ungoliant, sucking the air out of the room. Which was a horrible legacy for someone they both loved so much, but grief did strange things to already strained relationships.

“I keep asking myself if there’s something about Earendil I’m forgetting.” Oropher was rambling now, highly uncharacteristic. Celeborn drew in a long breath and re-centered himself in anticipation for wherever this was headed. “Has Galadriel said anything about a resemblance to anyone in her family?”

Celeborn raised an eyebrow, but Oropher wouldn’t look at him. His eyes were locked somewhere past Elrond’s head. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

But Oropher acknowledging Galadriel’s family, Earendil’s family willingly?

Oropher had always seemed to operate under some purposeful mental dissonance, wherein he forced himself to think of Galadriel as some Telerin princess who had mystically made her way across the sea alone and by sheer force of will. And Earendil? He might as well have been prince to some lost, entirely independent Elven kingdom- not Sindar, not Laiquendi, certainly not Noldor- for how Oropher acted, for the most part.

He’d slipped in an argument about Gil-galad once when he shouted that, ‘Earendil was the only Noldo I would have ever had for my king and he’s gone!’

“She’s never made any special mention of a resemblance,” Celeborn said carefully. He didn’t want to call attention to the… mannerisms picked up from certain half-cousins that Galadriel had noticed. That wasn’t a resemblance, after all. “Why?”

“No particular reason,” he said, though it was becoming clear that there was a very particular reason, “just, many remark that his brother took after Earendil and I never saw it, so I-“

“I always thought Elros more so resembled Dior.”

Oropher’s head snapped over to finally look at him. He nodded, slow and low, not even slightly upset at being interrupted.

“Yes, I thought the same,” he said. “Funny that. Identical twins, but it’s in the- the bearing. Who they take after. Luthien and Dior.”

Celeborn fought off the shudder that threatened the shake him, to make him crack and crumble under the weight of the thing between him and Oropher that would never go away. He actually looked Oropher in the eye, and in that faraway gaze, this time he saw the same weakness.

“How much have you had to drink this evening?” Celeborn asked.

Oropher shrugged casually, with one shoulder, and that was plenty of answer. Surely he couldn’t be as drunk as either the time Celeborn found his and his friends deep into Galathil’s liquor cabinet or the night they drank themselves into a state in Sirion after… after. Still.

“That’s very unbecoming.”

“You see it though, right?” Oropher said, voice still uncharacteristically even, but when they met eyes…

He was such a weepy drunk.

“Elwing and Earendil’s boys, they carry themselves well,” he said, voice bitter as could be. “Beautiful, kind, clever, magnetic, the both of them. Princess Luthien’s wildness is in Elrond, and Dior’s wonder at the world is in Elros. They stand so tall. And, yes, you’re right, Elwing and Earendil are there in the margins, but there’s also- also them. And so much space is taken up, our- Lothig is eaten whole.”

Hearing Nimloth’s childhood nickname come out of Oropher’s mouth was like being stabbed. There was no more air. Just like that, Celeborn was drowning.

“You should be proud,” he hissed back, trying to keep his head above water. “That is a fine legacy to resemble, our princess, our king. We loved them as well. At least, I did.”

Oropher wasn’t listening. He never did.

“Do you think any of these people-“ he swept his arm out to gesture at the entire room, the entirety of Lindon’s court; Noldor, Sindar, Nandor, Men and Dwarves in the margins, and one peredhil. “-care that they killed her?”

“Don’t put that on him,” Celeborn snapped quietly, “he doesn’t owe you grief for someone he never knew-“

“I don’t care what Elrond feels, I can’t even look at him,” Oropher spat out, every word sounding pained, and there was torment in his whisper quiet voice.

That whisper, more than anything, tipped Celeborn off to the fact that this conversation wasn’t just one of their drunken spats about trading blame.

“I would have raised that boy like we raised his mother and your brother raised me,” Oropher said, “but that didn’t happen, and I can’t look at him. He looks like Luthien. His brother looks like Dior. And that’s a wonderful thing for everyone else in this room, isn’t it? That’s hope. The beautiful king taken too soon reborn and the Nightengale who stole her happy ending walking among us, and that’s such a lovely end to this tale for them. But what about for us, Celeborn?”

For Celeborn? Celeborn was shaking with the effort it was taking to keep his breathing even. Galadriel touched the edge of his fea to ask if he was okay. He gently pushed her away.

Oropher was right about one thing, this was about their family; about Doriath and Menegorth and being the last two members of Thingol’s inner court on this shore.

Eru Iluvatar, how did it end up being them? Just a pair of hot-headed youths with the weight an entire dead kingdom on their shoulders.

“Gondolin and Nargothrond are gone too,” he replied, the words dull even to his ears. “Hithlum and Dorthonion, half of Ossiriand, and even Himlad and Thargelion. It’s about building something new for all of us. Hope is not a bad thing.”

“It’s different for us.”

Yes. It was. Because Doriath and Sirion need not have fallen like that, and the monsters who took their homes and their loved ones from them weren’t even defeated. They faded, sad and pathetic and allowed to escape by everyone and everything but their prize, and there was no catharsis in that.

And in this kingdom they spoke Sindarin, but they took a Noldorin king who ruled through Noldorin traditions- with a few of Cirdan’s lessons thrown in there- in a city built by Noldorin hands. After his death, Thingol had lost his war of cultural influence. Badly.

“No one here remembers her but us, Celeborn,” Oropher urged. “They remember our heroes and our most tantalizing tragedies, but they don’t remember her. They don’t see her. She’s just one more dead wife and mother, if they get that far, but not a cousin, a niece-“

“Enough, Oropher.”

“-an astrologist, a troublemaker, a queen, a girl who was so scared of being outshined-“

“Oropher!” Celeborn snapped, more harshly than he meant to. It made Oropher stop long enough that he could put a hand on his shoulder, though.

“Oropher, you’re weeping.”

He blinked harshly, then brought up a hand to wipe at his cheek. When he pulled away, Celeborn could see how wet the palm was. Oropher glared at the remnant of his tears like they’d personally offended him.

He muttered, half to himself, “Surely you can’t keep living like this. Ignoring what was done to us because it’s awkward and inconvenient for the new age they’re building.”

Could he? Celeborn didn’t know. He was trying. Galadriel was trying; she had as many wounds as him she was trying to swallow for the sake of something new and bright. But it was hard. Lindon made Celeborn feel old, somehow. But with Oropher he was always just a boy again, strutting around Menegroth, trying to make his place, being too loud and too proud and too sure of himself.

Perhaps that was part of why they couldn’t stop fighting. Always just boys when together. And those boys, they had a few things in common.

Doriath, Galathil, and Nimloth were in Oropher. And when Oropher looked at him, those same things were in Celeborn. There was no place for those things in this new world.

Because Doriath, Galathil, and Nimloth were forever gone on this shore. Oropher needed to realize that. Not matter how much it fucking hurt.

“Go to bed, Oropher,” Celeborn told him softly. “You’re drunk and emotional. You’ll embarrass your son. He’s one of those young people looking for something new. Something hopeful.”

And when they looked back towards Gil-galad’s dais and the youths surrounding him, there was Thranduil, charming smile on his face, making Elrond toss his head back and laugh. If anyone took after Nimloth, it was him; her mother and Oropher’s had been identical twins.

Celeborn’s hand was suddenly colder and hanging in the air. He turned back to the kid who showed up one day and took so much of his older brother’s attention and who he’d never forgiven for that small slight. Oropher was composed and looking like Galathil once more.

“I hate that you’re right,” he whispered. “And he probably needs me to be better than this. But I can’t be better here.”

And he left.

The next week, Oropher would formally announce his intention to travel east and settle there, alongside anyone who would join him. Celeborn, to the surprise of every other council member but Galadriel, raised no objection. Very briefly, the thought crossed his mind to join Oropher.

But that desire faded quickly. The envy didn’t, though, not for many, many years.

Not until the day he planted a little silver tree in Lothlorien.

[sallysavestheday]

Tolkien prompt for you: Sea glass glittered in his cupped palms, bright and fine as any jewel.

Thank you for this lovely prompt! It was perfect for @elrondweek, as it turned out. Have some lonely El on the beach, as thanks.

Sea glass glittered in his cupped palms, bright and fine as any jewel. Mithlond’s beaches were littered with it, still: all the delicate work of Númenor’s glaziers and craftspeople worn down to shards and bruised to opacity by the numbing pulse of time.   Elrond sorted through the softened leavings of that hard-edged empire, wondering – as he ever did, helplessly, even so many centuries later – where it had all gone wrong. What might he have done differently; what word or deed or presence might have altered the tide and kept his brother’s people safe? Had he taken Elros’ road, instead, would the end have been the same? The dull ache of that separation was always there: in the back of his mind, in the tender corners of his heart where Elros had made his home from the very first, twinned and twined into him until they breathed and laughed and grieved almost as one. And there was no soothing it, not when he had chosen the memories of the Eldar, ever-clear and bright. A thousand years had not yet fully callused the blister of his loss. Each bright, beloved son of the North-kingdom tore the edges of the hole in his heart anew, treasured though they were. They all carried enough of Elros in them to be mistaken in the mists, or around a corner, or across a fire when his mood was one of particular yearning. A cheeky grin, a turn of the heel in the summer dances, and suddenly he was there: Elrond’s missing other half. He had shaped his grief to love and thrown his home open to his brother’s children’s children, but it would never be quite the same. They floated in and out of his life like moths, or moonbeams – here, for a shining moment, and then gone. Transitory as the fine works of Númenor, in all their glory and impermanence. The weathered glass chips gleamed softly in Elrond’s hands – shards from some chalice, perhaps, or a window, glorious and refulgent in the light from the West. Or chimes: a confection of variegated rods and bells shaped to dance in the wind and make sweet music. Whose hands had made them, praiseful and careful and proud? The red and gold pieces he had gathered from the flotsam spilled across his palms, mingling and shifting as the colors caught the light. Maedhros had worked glass as a youth, he remembered: singing his soul into the heat of the furnace, drawing the transformed silica into strands and spheres and stars. What would he have thought of Elrond’s long grief, who had lost so much, and destroyed as much again? His own twin brothers had died on the docks of Sirion – Amras unwilling to live without Amrod, bound to the very last. And the fire, of course, had claimed Maedhros: unmaking, melting, unmolding. Was there a lesson to be learnt there, about holding tight, or letting go? Elrond sighed as the breeze off the water caught his hair, brushing away the cobwebs of regret and washing his memories clean and bright. He straightened his shoulders and juggled the sea-glass gently, listening to the soft song as the battered drops rolled from hand to hand. That was the truth of it, he thought. Even so worn, they made music. As his own heart still did, and would, until the breaking of the world.

Also on AO3.

[tar-thelien]

My Kidnap fam is getting rewritten, and here is chapter 1

Summary:

Elrond and Elros gets picked up by the Feanorian, some of which are on the bridge of falling into complete insanity. Maedhros is tired of everything, and far from stable, Maglor do as he wants and Erestor watches from as safe of a distance as he can. In the end, they are all just doing their best to stay alive - and love tends to grow slowly in treacherous places.

The third kinslaying happens, Amrod dies

Words:1329

Elrond´s POV

El looked up at the imposing form of the Valarauko with hair of fire, as he trembled behind his brother, who he hoped wouldn´t blame him.

Valarauko. That was what his Ada had called the beasts who had attacked his home, Gondolin, and since this tall fire Raug had attacked his home too, it must be one of the Moringotto´s creatures as well, at the least, it would be in league with him.

And when this frightening beast with imposing mithril eyes, curled back its lips to expose those gleaming, wicked white fangs both he and his brother almost fell into the dirt if not for the pole of the tent behind them kept them standing as the Raug before them threw his heavy fur over them.

“Maitimo! Where art thou!?” Shouted someone loudly from the outside, and the Raug, - ´Maitimo? He did not know enough of his father´s language to know what it meant, but he was sure it was something dreadful and bloody´ - who had found them and forced him along with him from the hiding cave that Glossien had told them to stay in, abruptly left the tent. The opening was guarded by one of the red star soldiers, who shot the two brothers a piercing stare with frowning eyebrows.

“Where are our brothers?” they heard the Valarauko ask in its rumbling voice.

“... They´re waiting ahead of us. They said we should ride towards Amon Ereb and that they would meet us when the time comes.”

-o0o-

The sound of shouting and fighting was so loud that it echoed through the narrow stone streets and the little boy felt a surge of panic, suffocating him as they were ushered through a backdoor that opened into a labyrinth of twisting uneven steps hewn out of the rock that led down to the forest.

“You know that we can't leave without Emel!” his brother cried in such a loud voice that the little boy winced. He was sure that some of the monsters must have heard that, and now they would come to kill them too.

“She will meet us at the cave.”

“NO! How do you know that?” said the brother with a frown, and the little boy began sobbing bitterly, the miserable cries escaping from his small throat and wracking his whole frame in despair.

“Shush!” Glossien hissed and she did not waste any more time, rather she lifted the weeping child up into her arms and tightly grasped his brother´s hand before silently hurrying off, “we have to find a safer place, your Naneth will come when this is over!”

After they had been shown under a small waterfall into the cave to hide a red haired elf showed up, proving Glossien right that someone had been following them, running after them with a gaping wound in his stomach yelling in the same language that Ada had talked in sometimes.

The boy didn´t know what had happened just that suddenly Glossien had screamed and then everything turned quiet as a small stripe of red showed up in the water in the cave.

“Pityafinwe, Pityafinwe-”

The brother peered up at the sorrowful voice, engrossed by it he stood up and began walking towards it, showing the boy back as he grabbed for his brother.

As he appeared out of the cave, he could see a dark haired elf covered in red and eight pointed stars, holding the red haired elf, looking straight into the brother's eye. The brother had seen him before, he had been in their room right before a guard had distracted him and he had left so Glossien could take them away.

Glossien who now lay facing down in the red water.

Not long went as three other red star soldiers came to drag the sobbing one away, only one of the soldiers stayed behind. One soldier who now looked straight at the Child.

“What is your name child?”

“El…” the brother replied much to the boy´s horror. But he agreed, that should they die, they would die being known as what their Emel called them.

“No more? Then I shall call you Elros, until you tell me your full name.”

READ THE REST ON AO3

[jadehaven]

"They might just add him in to please the lorebros, shove elrond to the side and continue on with the og story."

I fear this so much because they've treated Elrond as a main character since season 1, and he has a lot of screen time, like he's in the top 3 I believe. There was a lot of angry reactions to the kiss at first, but I think it has simmered down a bit? I saw the other day on reddit, the land of dudebros, a post that was mostly positive towards elrondriel, and it wasn't downvoted to oblivion. So maybe there is some hope... 🙏🥺

Well well well how the turn tables !!

That is wonderful to hear ‼️

I’ve also seen serval posts and comments who share the same opinion as you and I in their hesitancy towards Celeborn returning.

The thing is, to bring Celeborn back, you don’t just have to make him a neat character, you have to make him outshine Elrond as the knight in shining armour. Think about it, how many times have we seen Elrond save Galadriel? He’s been her closest friend, hero, comforter, and even been like her conscience in a way. All things that a traditional husband is. So, now we have to bring Celeborn in, and in less than 3 seasons convince the audience that he’s worth sacrificing the Elrondriel friendship? I’m not even talking about romantic interest here— just the outstanding support E and G have for fans of their friendship means that Celeborn is indeed a threat. Ironic hey? Because if they didn’t want this,

They could’ve just included him from the beginning.

Literally there was no reason to leave him out except for this. It all works better in everyone’s favor this way.

Keep in mind also, that season 1 and season 2 were written together. So that means several writers, directors, producers and showrunners all sat in a room and agree that in season 1, they’d introduce Gal without a man. Then they’d show her and El being very close. Then they’d mention Celeborn is gone. Then they’d have Elrond save her from being betrayed by Sauron. Then they’d have Elrond kiss Galadriel at the end of season 2– Wait what? They what?

Mhm. Just, THINK about it. That’s all I’m saying.

Elrond is main character, Galadriel is main character, Sauron is main character(opposite to Elrond), and Celeborn is… *checks notes* .. where…? no seriously wait did we forget to put him somewhere? *shrugs* ah oh well, too late now!

Listen, although I have fears, let’s face it. It would just be bad writing for them to introduce him as a major role this late into the show. Plus it would be an entire side plot of a thing, Gal having to figure out if she still loves her husband while trying to fight Sauron in a literal war??? While trying to heal at the same time? What, Kelly’s just gonna show up and try to help Elrond heal her, knowing absolutely nothing about what’s happened in the last thousand years? Bruh. Talk about awkward.

Make it make sense.

Anyyyywho. Y’all know how I feel about this for now. Conflicted, is it. We really just gotta hunker down and wait this one out. We’ll get our answers soon enough, and in the mean time we can sit back, relax and enjoy the *checks notes again*., hand holding, longing stares, tension, intimacy and K I S S ☺️. Either way, we still won.

Tysm for the ask!

xo, Jade

[elis-corner]

me when “the kiss” happened: “THAT SHOULD BE MEEE, HOLDING YOUR HAND, THAT SHOULD BE MEE, MAKING YOU LAUUUGH, THAT SHOULD BE ME, THIS IS SO SAAAAD-“

[balrogballs]

Saying here because I think your comments are off on A03, but I binged your Celrond fics and they are so so beautiful, the love and care between them, how they bicker and argue and how well they know each other for having been married for so long. Like the other commenters, I alsocouldn't help but cry at that one little line which says Elrond slept on the floor beside Celebrians bed every night after her torture so she could dangle an arm off the bed and hold his hand even though she couldn't stand to have males sleep on the same bed as her.

Please write more of them soon, it's like a balm to see Celebrian written like so bubbly and talkative and a big chatterbox and her and El always irritating each other ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

AW thank you, I love writing Celebrìan so much and I'm very glad it resonates — as someone who has been with the same person for ages, I do think it's the little insufferable things that characterise a long term relationship.

And yes, I thought sleeping on the floor to hold her hand was a very Elrond move in the best/saddest way 😩✨

(also my comments are on!)

[rey-jake-therapist]

“for a hot minute I swear I thought you were saying he would wife Elrond up and found the idea very entertaining lol” - yeah, I reread my tags and it definitely sounds like that’s what I was saying at first 😂

look I think Sauron is, above all, a guy who is resourceful and thinks on his feet. If wifeing up seemed like a good idea at some point, I can definitely see him following this plan lmao

Folks ! Forget about Saurondriel and Half Maia Celebrian and embrace El-Sauron and half Maia Arwen ! I mean, Elrond also wore his ring in 2x08...

And you know this little bitch of Sauron would love a harem.

Seriously, I realized reading your post that one thing I really wanted for season 3 was a Elrond/Sauron confrontation. Not necessarily a fight, but when Sauron comes to Lindon for the Rings and his wife, I want Elrond and Sauron to come face to face. In season 1 we didn't even see them interact, it has to happen now.

Also, El-Sauron is really a cool ship name, Amazon make it happen !

[sillylotrpolls]

(Notes on names and translations below poll. Click the read-more link to see, for example, why "star", "noble", and "silver" were used in options.)

I can't be the only person who thinks "Elf-man" is a terrible name, right? Like, I get it Elrond, your family tree is a giant mess and you're like half elf, three-eighths man, and one-eighth demigod, and everyone you know love naming their kids with the same first letters as their own name (thanks for that, Tolkien, I just love trying to keep all those Fi- names in the Silm straight), but maybe you could have broken with tradition and given your boys slightly nicer names? It's not like it's Latin, either, where most people have forgotten what the words actually mean; this is your everyday language here.

At least Elrond and Celebrían wised up by the time Arwen came along, though "Noble Maiden" still isn't very creative. I think Elves just might have something to learn from Mormons in this case.

Pictured: definitely not Jolkien Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien.

Anyway, translations for Elrond's family's names and where I got the names for the poll choices after the cut:

Elladan and Elrohir (Elrond's twin sons)

The name Elladan is Sindarin for "Elf-Man" or "Elf-Dúnadan," referring to his dual descent from both Elves and Edain (a name given to those descending from the three houses of Men from Beleriand).[15] It comes from the words el ("elf or star") and adan, singular of Edain.[16] On the other hand, Elrohir means "Elf-knight", but rochir also means "horse-lord".

Elrond (Elrond)

Elrond is a Sindarin name that means "Star-dome" or "Elf of the cave", from el ("Elf" or "star", interchangeably) and rond ("cave, vault").[17][18][19]

Celebrían (Elrond's wife)

The name Celebrían means "Silver queen"[6], from the Sindarin words celeb ("silver") and rían ("queen").[7]

Arwen (Elrond's daughter)

The name Arwen means "Noble maiden", from Sindarin ar(a) ("royal, noble") and wen ("maiden"). Her epessë Undómiel means "Evenstar", from the Quenya Undómë ("evening twilight") and el ("star").

Elros (Elrond's twin brother who chose to be mortal and founded Middle-earth Atlantis and was, for the record, much better at naming children than his brother)

Elros was a Sindarin word that meant "Elf of the spray", from el ("elf" or "star", interchangeably) and ross ("foam, spray").[8][9] The name came from the Quenya word Elerossë.[10]

And while we're all here, epessë:

The epessë or the "after-name" is the third type. The after-name is given later in life, but not necessarily by their kin, as a title of admiration. In some circumstances, the epessë is chosen by the Elf himself or herself. An Elf could be referred to by any of the three, but the epessë typically took preference.

Galadriel is the Sindarin translation of Alatáriel, the latter being the Telerin epessë originally given to her by Celeborn. Galadriel means "Maiden Crowned by a Radiant Garland". The name itself is an epessë: her father-name is Artanis (noble woman) and her mother-name is Nerwen (man-maiden).

The poll choices were created using this Lord of the Rings Elf name generator. I tried to make sure I picked the Sindarin options, in keeping with Elrond's family's clear preference. I primarily used the "meaning" option, but you could also specify "starts with 'el'", "male", and "Sindarin elvish names" to turn up a list of names like Elunaer ("Light blue bridegroom") or Elanorchanar ("Star sun flower brother").

Although the generator has obvious limitations due to the nature of Tolkien's conlangs, it's a lot of fun to play with. Just be careful or you'll next find yourself on the Parf Edhellen (Elvish dictionary) and from there it's just a hop skip and a jump until you're in a discord chat trying to figure out how to properly conjugate "knitting" or something.

Finally, just because I have always loved this paragraph, a quote from Bigger Things by Blossomwitch on Ao3:

Most people had trouble telling the twin sons of Lord Elrond apart. Gimli did not share this problem. True, they were very similar physically, but to Gimli the difference was plain. The one hanging all over Legolas like the Mirkwood Prince somehow belonged to him was Elladan; the one with enough sense to keep his paws off other people's elves was Elrohir. Simple enough.

[voidselfshipp]

Not elrond wearing a corcet like thing.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Noooow, you wanted asks about Nimloth, you get asks about Nimloth.

Was she frightenend when she learned that she was having twins? And whose idea was it to name them as they were named?

and i receive asks about nimloth (and the rest doriath's royal family) with delight 🤲 hand them over folks 🤲 🤲 🤲

dior and nimloth always intended to have kids in my books; some of their motivation in getting married was that dior might die very soon by elf standards, and they wanted to continue thingol and melian's lineage for succession reasons. though don't get me wrong -- they were very much deeply (and obsessively <3) in love, and would not have gotten married if it was otherwise. so nimloth wasn't frightened, per se -- but she was surprised. twins are an extraordinarily rare occurrence for elves -- amrod and amras would have been an outlier -- but, as i see it, not as much in humans. (i like to imagine that beren and hiril were twins, and the whole familial twin tendency is continued from beren -> dior -> elwing -> elrond, and pops up occasionally across aragorn and arwen's descendants.) so yeah, she wasn't expecting it. during the pregnancy, she and dior are both a little daunted at the thought of raising two kids at once, especially when they're completely new parents. but they also both have this very can-do attitude to life, so they do their best not to stress over it to an undue degree. which also doesn't mean they don't both occasionally freak out if they think too much about it. thingol and melian, and beren and luthien, are all sources of advice and support throughout.

the idea for "elurin" and "elured" as names was from dior, as he wanted to honor his grandfather, but nimloth is even more instantaneously and enthusiastically on board than he hoped she would be. (in inverse, when elwing was named, it was nimloth's idea, but she was a bit surprised at how much dior loved it.) the way i see it, nimloth is someone who loves and takes great pride in doriath, which motivated her greatly when she stepped up as queen under such dire circumstances. she's delighted at the prospect of naming her children as a testament to their heritage and their paternal great-grandfather's identity. (also their maternal great-something uncle lol.) and it doesn't hurt at all that thingol always dotes on her whenever they interact.

and tangent here but this ask gives me the perfect opportunity to vent: the iathrim peredil's "el-" naming tradition is SO important to me. and i love that it's a choice by thingol's descendants, beginning with dior, to actively continue his memory and declare themselves his heirs. and then later with elwing, elrond, and arwen, to keep the legacy of doriath -- which they either never saw or likely can barely remember -- alive. THIS FAMILY. THEM AND THEIR PRIDE IN THEIR HERITAGE.

[polutrope]

About controversial opinions, I don't like when in fanfics, Elronde Elros call Maglor or Maedhros their fathers/dads, I like them having complicated feelings for them, love for Maglor, but still guilt and a little anger, even if they are kind and love them, but it bothers me a lot if Elrond calls Maglor his father, says that Maglor is his father too or if the twins say they see themselves as Feanorians

Whoa now, we like to keep the controversy down at polutrope.tumblr.com! But, to be fair, ambivalence can be controversial 😉.

I feel you, Anon. But I suspect you already know this about me.

The El-twins calling Maglor "Father" is actually a good example of something I have become "radically ambivalent" about. I'm not ambivalent about kidnap fam being complicated, but I have become "meh" about calling Maglor "Father, Atar, Atto," etc. He does, canonically, raise them. "Foster father" imo is the most appropriate term for the role he plays in their childhood.

I can see them only ever calling him by his name, or something else (potentially something rude), but I can also see situations where one or both twins would call Maglor "Father" while still maintaining a very complicated relationship to him and to that word applied to him. I mean, how many people out there have complicated paternal relationships and still call Dad "Dad" or whatever?

I became open to it when I started writing this relationship and struggled to convince myself that they wouldn't have ever called him father.

Here's Elros in my fic Scorched, which kind of summarises my feelings on them:

Maglor is to blame. Maglor who failed to guard them from the monster Maedhros became; who gilded his brother with praise and fond looks and gentle words. Even his anger, when it rose, was sinuous and soft. Elros turns on his heel, sharp and resolute, and with hands bunched tight at his sides he seeks the one who by long familiarity has eroded his resistance to naming father.

I don't think it's impossible that Elrond or Elros in their adulthood would continue to think of Maglor as "father", either, if only out of habit. But I'm with you in that I think with their illustrious and diverse heritage, "Fëanorian" would be the last thing they'd identify as. At least not much past young adulthood.

As for Maedhros, well. I've talked about where I stand on that one before.