#elrond peredhel x you Tumblr posts

[sun-snatcher]

Your take of Círdan being an old man who enjoys pestering people is my absolute fave bc yeah if I was the oldest elf alive I'd be a little shit half the time too for funzies

( credits to the lovely @peregrintook for this beautiful gifset ! )

✵ — WATER-DAMAGED!

summ.  Elrond arrives at Círdan’s workshop. He finds his heart instead. or:  The Herald and the Artisan fall in love. pairing.  elrond peredhel / f!reader  w.count.  1.2k (a lil baby!) a/n.  set in s2e1, friends-to-lovers kinda , fluff galore , mutual pining , Círdan being a thirdwheel (but highkey enjoying it because he’s a little shit like that)

       YOU’RE QUICK TO attempt to bundle Elrond up like a child when he’d arrived. 

Frantic, almost, at the sight of Lindon’s renowned Herald— drenched to the bone, head-to-toe, and dripping river water from his mess of curls, leaving puddles and a wet track wherever he went on the stone of the workshop.

“He’s not here yet,” is what you’d said, when he’d urged you for Master Círdan. The shipwright had gone off to appraise proper timber for the frames of the vessels prepared for Valinor, now that High King Gil-Galad has decreed preparations to set sail. 

“But he should return by nightfall, latest. So will you please sit down, Elr—”

“I cannot,” he overrides, wholly unconvincing through the chatter of his teeth. “You’ll be at risk if I stay.”

You blink. “…From who?”

“I—”

In the distance, a horse whinnies. 

Elrond tenses instantly.

“…Are you— hiding?” you realise, as he springs to his feet to make headway for the sidedoors. “Elrond, wait!”

“Thank you, truly, for your kindness, but I cannot allow the King’s Guard—”

“That was just Silef,” you say incredulously, muscling the door back shut and stubbornly standing in his way. “My mare, remember? From the stables just uphill?” 

A pause. 

He listens with pricked ears: gates of a stable door squeaking; hooves clopping from paddock ground onto pasture grass; the sound of grain and feed being chewed on, after a moment's pass. A notable absence of marching Elven armour and feet stamping its way downhill towards him. 

Just Silef. You’re right. He’d been paranoid. 

“Á quildessë, Elrond,” comes your quiet voice, gentler now as you chase to meet his anxious gaze. “I will make sure no one comes into this workshop, unless it’s Master Círdan himself,” you assure, resting your hands on his forearms. “Just please, sit down. You’re shaking.” 

…He is. He hadn’t even realised. 

It might have been adrenaline, or the bite of the cold from wind and water— but he’s trembling, nonetheless, like a leaf. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, much, much later, when you’d stoked the coals of the workshop hearth to life, and set him upon a wooden seat beside it.

From the open foyer of the atelier, the sea-reflected hues of the setting sun does little to hide the tentative worry in your features. Your voice is as gentle as the lap of tidewater. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I shouldn’t have… barged in.” 

I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place, and put you at risk for treason for harboring a dissenter.

The firelight paints your face in soft, flickering licks of ochre as you tenderly dry off the dampness in his hair, the water trickling down his face. “You were afraid,” you reason generously.

(You don’t tell him that he looks adorably… pitiful. With eyes like that of a kicked puppy, almost. Even worse that he looks half-drowned.)

Elrond doesn’t argue. You’ve always been a kind friend to him. So, so kind. Ever-ready and steadfast to extend an olive branch, impervious to tactlessness, or even offence, from the sheer tenacity of your patience. Elrond has always admired you for it. Elrond has always—

Liked you. Cared. Loved.

(Too much to allow himself to let you get caught in this tangle he’s been forced into.)

He lays a hand over yours, and you pause mid-wipe of a droplet down his lined jaw. His eyes are shut briefly, as if falling into the comfort of your touch— candid indulgence. It makes your heart stutter.

That you’re allowed a quiet moment to admire him this close, so much so you can see the rings of sundering blue in his eyes; or to touch him this affectionately, so much so you could feel the very change of temperature on his skin— 

You think you’ve been blessed with a handsome vision by the Valar themselves.

“You must be curious,” he says, voice a low murmur. His palm swallows yours entirely. His fingers are warm by now. (You shouldn’t notice such details— but you do. You’re an artisan, after all. Or perhaps hopeless romantic is a better suited term?) “But this is beyond even me.”

He slides your hand down, much to your dismay, and uncurls the pouch he’s been clutching onto since he arrived. Now that it’s infront of you, there’s a pull to it you can’t quite understand.

You reach, almost too keenly— 

—but you close his fingers around it instead.

If Elrond had shown any surprise, you didn’t notice. 

“Must be why you’ve sought out Master Círdan,” you muse, looking up at him. “If it’s beyond you, it’s most certainly beyond me, a mere shipwright’s apprentice.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Elrond adds quickly, realising how he must have come across. 

“I know,” you laugh, before he can take off into a tangent. (It’s bright and musical to Elrond’s ears— thinks if he could drown in its sound, he would have done so willingly.) “You forget I know you.”

Not entirely, he doesn’t say. You don’t know how much my heart sings to be near you. How much your presence— or the very thought of you, even— have always brought comfort to me. 

You don’t know how much I’ve been resisting the urge to kiss you since you first sat me down by the fire.

He feels a little smile coming, the kind he couldn’t help, that would light his whole face whenever he cast his gaze on you. “You do, don’t you?” he whispers, voice sinking into something almost— nostalgic, at the sudden unravelling of old memories shared with you throughout the age.

“Well, when it comes to Kingdom politicians…” you shrug teasingly. “As much as I’m allowed to be privy to.”

He barely laughs, too busy looking at you with rapt, reverent attention. It curls a timidness in your heart. “You are allowed all of me. Always.”

Something takes wing in your chest. Butterflies, maybe. Doves taking flight in your ribcage. 

As are you, to me.

At least, that's what you would’ve said, had your ears not caught the distant clop of hooves headed downwind towards the river edge. “Master Círdan is here,” you say instead, diverted. You recognise the huff of his steed anywhere.

You watch Elrond perk up and tune into the approach: the rustle of saddle and stirrups, the shuffle of robes and footsteps. When the doors squeak open and shut, the Kingdom’s shipwright finds the Kingdom’s herald standing in the heart of his own workshop.

“Elrond,” he says, by way of greeting. There’s naught a hint of surprise in his voice— Círdan had felt a call louder than the sea long before he’d arrived, and now he can understand it’s carried in the herald’s charge. “Have you come to seek a certain apprentice of mine?” he asks, regardless.

It’s playful. Knowing.

“He seeks you, Master Círdan,” you answer politely, rounding from the corner where you’d grabbed your spare pelerine cloak to pass to Elrond. “Here, to keep warm.”

“Thank you.”

You bow your head to them both. “I shall be at the lighthouse just across.”

Your fingertips brush against Elrond’s hand as you leave. It tarries; merely a millisecond— enough, however, for Círdan’s keen eyes to catch— before he watches you depart through the sidedoors to give them the privacy they needed. 

Elrond's hand flexes reflexively. Longingly.

A beat passes.

“…Are you sure it is still me you seek?” Círdan muses, brows shot to his hairline.

The tips of Elrond’s ears burn. 

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[luzriels]

"I was alone. A young, half-elven boy, without friend or kin. You gave me water" GALADRIEL and ELROND for week 5, rings of power summer celebration

[morganas-pendragons]

sweet and soft | elrond peredhel

okay LISTEN

I read this prompt about the elves ears DAYS ago and it has not left me alone. it being their most sensitive part of their body along with touching their ears meaning you want courtship.... and I then had a dream about this with Elrond

not a drop of angst in here, I want to kiss him so bad

enjoy!

***

Sunlight cradles the two of you from where you sit among the gardens in Lindon. It is a rare day where the High King has given Elrond reprieve from his duties as Herald, and you both took the opportunity to spend the time together in the gardens where you’d met.

Elrond only had one condition: You had to play for him. As your skill with a violin was renowned, you’d earned your place as High King Gil-Galad’s violinist who was often called upon for important events. It was what had initially drawn Elrond to you, seeing you playing at Gil-Galad's feast.

That was almost six months ago. Now you find yourself enraptured by the Half-Elven man with his head in your lap, your fingers idly carding through unruly curls as you recite lines of poetry from the book he’d brought to read.

Your first mistake in being so engrossed in your poetry is that you miss Elrond’s breathing hitch when your fingers ghost the tips of his ears. He is aware, as are you, what the implications are behind touching the ears of another elf. Elrond has never made the depth of his feelings for you known.

He is cognizant of one detail, at minimum. Elrond wants to court you.

He is also aware that his cheeks are burning as he turns to press his head into your thigh.

Your fingers curl just beneath the neckline of his shirt before dancing upward once again and repeating the same motion. Out of the corner of his eye, Elrond catches the faint smile upturning your lips as you peer down to meet his gaze. His eyes are astonishing already, but washed in the glow of the morning sun, he almost seems as if he is sent straight from the Valar themselves.

“Is something wrong, Elrond?” You ask innocently. He reaches up to snap the poetry book shut, allowing him the opportunity to sit up and face you. “I thought you were enjoying the poetry. This is our weekly routine, after all.”

He takes those next few beats of silence to allow his eyes to sweep across your face. Elrond has known you to be somewhat of a mischievous person, feigning innocence and naivety in situations where repercussions are demanded if fault is admitted.

“I was simply admiring the person who chooses to spend their waking hours with me instead of making practical use of their time,” Elrond remarks, voice stuttering as you curled your fingers into the lengthening curls at his temples to tug him close to you. “And how devious you are.”

You grin widely at him. Elrond is the only person you have ever allowed yourself to be genuine with. Being in Gil-Galad’s favor means that you so often have to wear a practiced facade of grace and poise. There is no room for child like behaviors.

Being with Elrond allows you to truly, truly embrace the very being of who you are. That is one of the many characteristics you have come to love about him.

“Me? Devious? Surely you are joking." You tease. "All I did was-“

He catches your hand before you can do it again. The two of you sit there in silence for a brief moment as you stare at your hand caught in his own. It’s the first time he’s really taken it. Sure, the two of you have walked with one another in these gardens plenty of times, but only as friends.

You have wanted Elrond for what feels like lifetimes. For the sake of yourself and for him as parts of Gil-Galad’s court, you chose to love him from afar. You didn’t want to impose upon Elrond. He already carried enough.

However, given the way he’s looking at you, part of you quietly wonders if he feels the same way and chose not to speak it for fear of your rejection.

Elrond takes each one of your fingers and spreads them apart, laying a kiss on each fingertip before enclosing your hand with his own. Your breath stuttered in your chest as he leaned impossibly closer.

“You know what it means to touch the ears of another elf,” Elrond said lowly. It almost sounds like barely concealed restraint. “Do not tread upon a path you do not wish to walk down.”

You hum softly and grab his chin with your fingers so he will look at you. Trepidation lingers in the depths of the gray irises that stare back into yours. “And if it is a path I wish to tread upon?” You whisper. “Let it be my choice.”

Elrond shudders as your fingers trail upward to tangle in his hair again, and he finds himself unable to breathe as you slowly shift your positions so you can settle yourself into his lap. It's a bold move considering you have done little else outside of resting your head on his shoulder and holding his arm as you venture Lindon's gardens. You're quietly praying that you have not overstepped a boundary.

Elrond doesn’t push you away. He welcomes it. He welcomes you.

He tries to focus on the sights around him to avoid the fear of disappointing you lingering in the back of his mind. You are a sight to behold among Lindon’s gardens. Despite the wonders of the sights around him, none of the flora and fauna that have grown here over the centuries are comparable to you.

“Hey,” You call softly. “Where did you go, nin mel?”

Elrond is not usually one to fumble over his words, but they roll off his tongue before he can stop his rambling, “I do not want to bring any disappointment if I am not what you wish me to be.”

You’d be lying if you said the statement didn’t make you melt. He was so earnest and sweet when it came to ensuring he lived up to what other people wanted but so often gave himself such little credit. “Elrond,” You began, taking his hands into your own to press them against your waist. “I have wanted you for so long. You could never disappoint me, meleth nin.”

You bend your head to the juncture where his jaw meets his neck and place a kiss thereupon. As you anticipate, Elrond groans low in his throat and grasps you more tightly. “Please,” He breathes, breath hot against your ear as you drum your fingers against his neck. “Please touch me.”

It was the closest to a declaration you were going to get at that moment. He wants you to be near to him, to touch him, to be witness to the rawest and most vulnerable parts that he so often hid from everyone else. He had to hide. Who would want to see the human side of the Half-Elven Herald of the King?

You tilt your head and gently graze your fingertips over his ears as he bends his own head to meet your mouth halfway. It's cataclysmic. You've been dreaming about this moment since the first time he asked you to play for him at the very end of one of Gil-Galad's feasts with the other elves who dwelt in Lindon.

Elrond shudders as you come together and lifts a hand to touch your jaw just beneath your own ear.

The action alone causes you to gasp just enough for him to take the opportunity to kiss you more deeply, licking into your mouth with a low groan as you wind your fingers through his hair.

"Elrond," You breathe. The two of you pull away just enough to feel the warm breath of the other on your skin, your fingers twirling circles against his temples as he worked at undoing the braids that hung over your shoulders. You want more of him. You want to bury yourself in his heart and never let anyone hurt him again. "That was-"

"I would very much like to do it again. And again, and again, until you are rendered breathless," Elrond whispers, reaching to the side to pluck a lily from the flower bed before tucking it behind your ear. There is hope lingering on the edge of his tone as he looks at you. A hidden promise for something that you both can chase, not a futile dream he has to chase alone. "But only after I hear you play."

You stand to your feet and motion for the violin case beside him. "One on condition," You reply as you tuck your chin into the base of the instrument and poise your bow against its strings. "There must be more kisses at the end of this song."

You swallow the knot in your throat as the melody begins to echo in the gardens, allowing Elrond the opportunity to lean back on his elbows and peer up at you from his spot on the blanket. "I believe that can be arranged. Is there anything else?" He asks innocently. You raise a brow and pause as his shirt shifts to reveal the skin beneath. Warm, tanned skin that you wanted to... "You're staring. You're going to mess up your song."

"You are distracting me." You retort. "I do have one more condition."

There are several beats of silence between you two as Elrond goes quietly, enraptured by the melody that seems to encompass your entire being as if it comes from the very heart of you. You are the very essence of what makes music beautiful.

When your final note decrescendos into the serenity of the garden's life around you is when you open your eyes to look at Elrond once again.

"What's that final condition?" Elrond asks.

"A date, Elrond Peredhel." You muse, leaning down to return your violin to its case before swooping in to press a kiss to reddened cheeks. "Anywhere and any time. I will leave the rest up to you."

He does not dare move as he watches you walk back towards your rooms. You truly are a marvel, a sight to behold. You are the brightest light that has entered his life since he lost Elros. He would not dare to dim that light.

"Anytime and anywhere," He whispers to himself as he traces his fingers over his cheek. "For all my life-time."

[lordelrondofrivendell]

"And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself because I could find no language to describe them in."

[feyhunter78]

Hi 💕

If requests are still open can you do something Elrond x reader where reader watches him duelling for sword training (or something similar)?

Can be as sweet or spicy as you want❤️

I know you sent this in ages ago, I'm so sorry!!! Also, I'm so bad at describing fighting, please ignore that

Sparring Sessions

You sit with your friend Taethrien on one of the various stone benches that line the outer circle of the training yard. The open space of packed dirt and training dummies, the sounds of sparring and instruction mingling with grunts of exertion from the younger elves.

“Again.” Elrond calls, his voice sharp, like a whip, his face set in stone, as he jerks his head towards the fallen sword of his sparring partner.

The younger elf, Narion, you believe his name is, picks up his sword, and settles back into a sturdy fighting stance, sweat dripping from his brow.

You know you should intervene, insist that your husband take more care with the younger elves, but you find yourself unable to. Your eyes drawn to his form, the graceful but powerful movements, the controlled strength behind his swings and strikes.

“Elrond is quite intense this morn, is he not?” Taethrien says, watching the pair as they begin, Narion lunging first, seemingly not learning his lesson.

You hum in response, captivated by the easy way Elrond deflects the blow. He has not even broken a sweat, but his hair is disheveled from him raking his hand through it.

There is a smirk, almost cocky, on Elrond’s face as Narion growls and tries to fake right and catch Elrond off guard. He sees right through it, striking Narion’s exposed side.

“Oh, poor boy, he must cease leaving his left side so open.” She continues, frowning as the flat of Elrond’s blade taps against Narion’s ribs.

You hum again, feeling your stomach flip when Elrond spots you and sends you a quick smile, a simple uptick of his lips, but it is enough to make a sudden warmth flood your face.

“Y/N?” Taethrien asks, turning to face you, her brows furrowed. “Are you listening.”

“Yes, yes, I agree, left side, much too exposed.” You say far too quickly, remembering where you are and tearing your eyes from Elrond.

She tilts her head, a catlike smile on her lips, but says nothing of your reaction. “My husband should be along soon, perhaps he will present a finer challenge for Elrond than the young ones do.”

“I am sure it will be a worthy display of both their skills.” You smile, bumping your shoulder into hers. “And it will allow me to see this strength of his you are so very fond of.”

 “I told you of that in confidence.” She whispers, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” You reassure her, patting her hand.

A sudden shout draws your attention back to the ring, where Elrond has Narion at sword point, the young elf on his back in the dirt. You grip your skirts, a flash of heat surging through you as Elrond sheathes his sword with a one-handed, fluid motion, before pulling Narion up from the dirt.

“It seems we both may have something, not to be ashamed of.” Taethrien teases, making a show of pretending to try and unfurl your fingers.

You do not tease her in return when it is her husband against yours, they are newly married, still in a phase of infatuation, still discovering much about themselves and each other. Besides, you are far too focused on Elrond as he and Iandor spar, their swords singing, sparking through the air, throwing bits of sunlight as it glints off their blades.

“Do keep up Elrond, I know you have not tasted battle in ages, but surely you cannot be this out of practice.” Iandor taunts jovially, a bright smile on his face.

Elrond throws him a devastatingly charming smile in response, the gleam of a worthy challenge in his eyes. “No, my friend, I am simply allowing you the advantage, I would not wish to embarrass you in front of your new bride.”

They spar for what feels akin to eternity as well as mere moments until they call it a draw, both men breathing heavily, clapping each other on the shoulder as they return their weapons to the rack.

You meet Elrond halfway, and he wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling at you, his chest still rising and falling harshly. “My starlight, I can only hope we did not bore you.”

“I never tire of watching you train.” You tell him, dusting the dirt from his training leathers, attempting to banish the memory of your wedding night from your mind. The way he looked hovering above you, his curls wild, his pupils blown wide, his bare chest heaving, the sound of your name on his lips. “I always find such interest in seeing more of this side of you. I know my husband the poet, the herald, the romantic, but I see seldom see my husband the warrior.”

“Truly, I prefer the quill to the sword, but I cannot deny a good bout brings a certain sense of joy to me.” He says, as you both wave goodbye to Taethrien and Iandor.

“You fight well, as you always have.” You compliment, leaning your head against his arm as you walk back to your shared chambers. You must cease these thoughts, stifle the heat, lest you become a lecher for your own husband.

“I am better with a bow.” He deflects, ever so humble.

“You are skilled with both, though I would not say you are a better archer than swordsman.” You tease. “That title belongs to Galadriel.”

Though you say it, your mind’s eye still conjures an image. His deft hands wrapped around the bow, his broad shoulder spread, his spine straight, his arms taut as he pulls back the arrow. Heat rushes through you once more, and you bite the inside of your cheek to clear your mind.

“Yes, I know it is your preference, but it is not…” Elrond stretches his arms behind his head, a small groan slipping past his lips, and you all but trip over your own feet.

“It is not what?” He asks, his hands flying out to steady you. His touch is lightning, striking through you, setting fire to the desire that had been bubbling within you since his blade had met its first foe in the early hours of the morn.

“Stars, Elrond, simply—” You grab him by the collar of his leathers and yank him down, your lips melding with his, frantic and fevered.

He melts into your touch, lips parting as his grip tightens on you, dragging you closer.

You press yourself against him, walking him backwards until his back meets the wall, a surprised gasp escaping him.

“We are still along the path; anyone could come upon us.” He breathes, loathe to separate his lips from yours.

“We will hear them before they do.” You assure him, though you doubt your vigilance and his, when your lips leave his own, trailing across his chiseled jaw, up to his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

Elrond lets out a strangled moan, the sound shooting through you, warming you like Dwarven ale. “Fenedhis, y/n, please.”

You press a chaste kiss to the place beneath his ear, and return your lips to his jaw, your fingertips replacing your teeth, tracing the shell of his ear. “Of course, my love, anything you desire.”

He groans lowly, his fingers bunching in your skirts as he tries to calm himself. “My sweet starlight, do not torture me.”

You untangle one of his hands, and slide it beneath your skirts, a shiver running through you when he grips your thigh and drags you closer. “I would never. I want only to give you what you desire, remember?”

His chest brushes against yours with each breath, leather against silk, desire swirling between you, as he leans down to capture your lips, stopping a hairbreadth away. “Let us return to our chambers then, it seems you much to give me.”

TROP tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace, @emmyspov, @elrondswifey, @victoria-styles, @90angiex, @lucypaulette

[anetherealpoetess]

it's vital for my mental health that the show introduces celebrían and we get to see this man fall in love with his wife

[curiouser--and--curiouser]

Elrond Peredhel A-Z Smut Headcanons

Kinktober 2024 - Week 1

Warnings: SMUT, switch!Elrond, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, cum, anal play, toys, dirty talk, etc., x reader, gender neutral reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Such a sweet and attentive boy. Elrond is immediately up on his feet, getting whatever you may desire. Especially if you'd just had a more rough session, he would always double check he didn't hurt you and pamper you. Definitely his body's last hurrah before he eventually falls asleep in your arms.

On the flip side, if you'd taken control for the evening, he would be so appreciative of you taking care of him while he stared at you with loving, glassy eyes, bringing him back down to earth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Elrond likes (how much you like) his hands. They are the link between his mind and the page as a herald, and the thing to make you truly fall apart. Some of his favourite memories feature him crowding you against a wall with his fingers inside you, gently shushing you so you are not caught.

On you, Elrond always comes back to your hips. Stroking them, grabbing them, kissing up and down them. His hands are always at your hips: to manhandle your pliant body into a new position, or just hanging on for dear life as you make him lose his mind.

Also, just a quick point about Elven ears generally: definitely a major erogenous zone for all elves, so if you even lightly brush your lips against his ears, Elrond is ready to give his soul to you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he actually sees it as a sign of connection between you both. Either cumming inside of you and mixing his with your own, or spilling all over both you and himself, he just can't help but stare down between you while trying to catch his breath.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The first time he ordered you to ride his thigh, he came in his pants. The sight of you getting yourself off on him, the power he had over you - it was too much for him. He tried his best to hide it as you were coming down from your own high.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Elven life is so long, so Elrond is undoubtedly fairly experienced, having a fair share of elves and mortals lured by his charm and good looks. But I feel he may not have ever been as experimental as he may have fantasised of late at night, stroking his cock at great pace. However, despite his long life, Elrond had never loved someone so much as you; he is slightly stunned the first time you make love, forgetting for a moment what to do and where to put his hands.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Below you. In awe. Watching you. Seeing you in control in any situation does things to him, and you on top of him, riding him, controlling him, choking him, makes him lose his mind. Nowhere in the whole of Valinor does Elrond expect to see something quite as beautiful as you over him with your head thrown back in pleasure. All he can do is wrap himself around you and hold on.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Elrond can go both ways. He can be all cute smiles and giggling, all in your own little world. Or deadly serious, purely focussed on you and the love you share.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don't believe he is completely shaven, but the small amount of curly hair that is there is very nicely kept and groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Such a hopeless romantic. The first time, he decked out his rooms with rose petals, dimmed lights, silk sheets - everything to give you the most pleasurable and intimate experience for your first time together.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He would always just prefer to find you. But if he is ever away on a mission for Lindon, Elrond can't help but spend nearly every night one hand fisting his cock and the other covering his mouth, muffling his moans and whimpers. He will always take a reminder of you with him, and it stays firmly between his lips when he dreams of feeling your touch again.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

First and foremost, Elrond is a switch - he is overwhelmed the moment you stand over him and use an authoritative tone, but can have you in a puddle on the floor with once single command.

Hair pulling - those beautiful curly locks are too gorgeous to not run your fingers through and grab, and it makes Elrond's eyes roll back in his head every time. And if you ever pull him by his hair, either back to your lips or back to his work under the covers, he's going to cum right then and there.

Face sitting - Elrond would die a happy man, suffocated between your thighs. Nothing is too much for him - he just wants to do good for you - so give him all you've got and watch him buck his hips up and rut against the air like an animal.

Commander kink - need I say more? You were there when Gil-galad ordained him Commander Elrond, and the name immediately went straight through you - and he noticed. Now, he will do barely anything until you have sufficiently begged your commander to keep moving, before he finally slams into you with a power you never thought he could possess.

Overstimulation - it doesn't come out often, but when he is angry with you - and you can't help but fight back - Elrond has no choice but to teach you a lesson. Soon, he has you on his lap, your back to his chest, fingering you harshly as you cum over and over and over again. And he just keeps going, even as your head lolls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, baby, one more. Just give me one more. I want to hear those beautiful moans again. Look at you, finally being so good for your commander."

"Yes, Sir."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Sometimes the simplest is the best: in the confines of your shared rooms and marriage bed, you can take all the time you might desire with each other, completely uninterrupted and focussed on each other. Otherwise, he loves to spend a day with you in the woods; take a picnic, sing to you, and make love to you under the canopy of trees.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Just the sight of you. Also, pretty sure Elrond has a competency kink. Seeing you working and succeeding and leading really makes him weak and submissive. And for any little doubts and anxieties that may crawl there way into his mind, just simply knowing you want him, and only him, really frees his soul.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't believe Elrond would ever be into impact play. He may sometimes grab you with hard hands and leave bruises on your hips, but he would never intentionally hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Elrond is without a doubt a skilled and enthusiastic lover. At any possible opportunity, he will go down on you (or otherwise beg to) and how could you say no to him? His tongue was moulded by the Valar themselves just for you and his eyes close in pleasure as he plays your every string like a lute. Also, he has no gag reflex.

On the other hand, Elrond absolutely loses his mind when you suck him off. He is so overwhelmed and can barely breathe. Definitely when you surprise him by undoing his pants and distract him from work at his desk. And definitely when he stands before you, you on your knees, tears streaming down your face, taking everything he gives you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Elrond has a lot of energy, so he can't help but use it sometimes, pounding into you with his lips connected to your neck. But his roughest side comes out when he is stressed from work or angry with the world, your face pushed into the pillows and body pinned to the bed as he takes you in whichever dark way he may desire. If he is in more of a romantic mood, he takes it slower, deeper, more sensual, wrapped up in each other's bodies. Usually slow and sensual, but loses his mind sometimes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He always needs you, so whenever and wherever possible. In great hallways in between his meetings with the King, pushed up against the wall (something he had been thinking of doing the entire meeting beforehand. In the gardens in a little secluded corner you know, shushing each other to be quiet between giggles and low moans.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If he isn't busy with work, Elrond is always down for a quickie. So, you have both taken a lot of risks in your time with regard to location. He was a bit cautious when you first got together about experimentation, but he has become (very) open with time. Elrond just wants to make you happy, and he will do nearly anything to make that happen.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Elves, y'all… The lot of them have the stamina of the Valar, so you happen to be of a race with any less endurance, then good luck… Elrond is no different: bouncing with boundless energy, ready to go again with very little rest time. He can go all night long. Insatiable.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don't believe his own personal collection would be vast before getting together with you; his primary possession a small metal vibe he teases himself with to thoughts of you. However, he is excited to delve into your own collection, eager to find out what you like and don't like, and which he could persuade you to use on him. He never expected he would ever react like this, but the moment you mentioned it, it lit a fire in him... and so did those nipple clamps he found at the bottom of your box.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He dishes it out but he can't take it. You really both drive each other insane. Private whispers of dirty promises just before he is called away by Gil-galad, or intentionally low-cut robes that make him choke on air when you bend over - you are both insufferable.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's so loud, he just can't help himself. He gets lost in you and your body that he sometimes forgets he's making noises at all. Loud moans all the time, and delicate whimpers when you climb on top of him. But this transforms into low, feral growls when he is jealous or angry, his animalistic and possessive side coming out. Also, no one in the whole of Middle Earth can stop this man's constant dirty talk whispered in your ear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I don't think Elrond had done a lot of anal play before meeting you. He had experiemented with himself, fingering himself with breathless gasps in the confines of his chambers. But never particularly with other people; he had always been more of a giver than a taker. It intrigued him, and you helped to bring him into the light. You started slow, trying to relax his nervous trembling, but soon he was thrusting back against you or the toy, eyes glossed over as you hit the just the right spot again and again. Now, it is a frequent feature of your nightlife together, where he can embrace his little subby side and let go to complete pleasure.

"Please, my love, more, I need more. Fuck. I need you so bad, please give me more, I can take it. I love you. Please."

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is not the longest, but has a fair girth and is slightly curved up in just the right way to make you see stars.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Definitely high. He's so in love. He will physically tell himself to calm it before meetings with the High King (more frequently than he'd like to admit), and then he is able to stay focussed on the job at hand. But when he is writing speeches - and ultimately calm in his beloved art - he can start to feel his mind wandering to you. All the strength in his body is needed to make sure all his work is finished before running off to find you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he has taken of you thoroughly, Elrond gets very sleepy. He tries his best to engage in pillow talk with you, but soon his eyes start to flutter close - not without them leaving your beautiful face.

[the-fiction-witch]

Rescue

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Y/n (Elf Wife) Rating - 18 + Word Count - 1241

WARNING! SA / MENTIONS OF SA/ ABUSE/

The road had been long and difficult. But Elrond knew he couldn't give up.

While travelling to visit other elves, their travelling party was ambushed by orcs several died in the fight but some were captured, One of those captured was Elronds own wife, Y/n. The orcs carried her away with them and ever since Elrond had been stalking them desperate to save her. Elrond knew the horrific things orcs do to captured female elves. They torment them. Torture them. degrade them. And rape them to use as breeding slaves. And once they are out of use for them, they'll eat their flesh and leave them half dead. And Elrond knew that was not a fate he could allow Y/n to have.

But the days grew long, and he began to fear that he would never see her again, He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat and he couldn't think of anything except saving her. No matter what he did hellish screams echoed in his ears, as if from miles away he could hear her fear and he prayed to all the gods of this world that she had only fear to cause her screams… And nothing worse.

he reached a hilltop and stopped to look across the moors, and even in the darkness, he saw them. The band of orcs walked towards the rocks, shuffling about the way orcs often did. And at the back of the pack, two of the four elves were captured from their party both of the women of course.

He saw Y/n and he felt a rage build inside him. She was stripped of her gown wearing only tattered rags to conceal her, forced to all barefoot on the rocks, her feet and body bleeding, rope around her wrists and her neck leading her forward with the orcs, her cheeks stained with tears. She tried to resist them but one orc slapped her across the face almost knocking her to the floor, before grabbing her chest to fondle while she screamed and he laughed at her fear,

Elrond watched as the orcs dragged Y/n along, his anger reaching a boiling point. Every fiber of his being ached with the desire to run down and grab her. The sight of them touching her and causing her pain was almost to much for him to bear. He had to force himself stand still and control his impulses. He wanted to jump down from the hills and run towards them, to grab her and take her away from this hellish nightmare. He wanted to kill every single orc that had touched her and make them suffer for what they had done to her,

His heart was beating faster than ever and his eyes were fixed on her. He couldn't stand to see her in harms way like this. Even her tears were too much for him. This was the woman he loved more than anything in the world and she was suffering at the hands of these monsters. He followed them at a safe distance until they made camp for the coming dawn hiding away in a low mountain cave. They set up their camp and let the prisoners linger outside,

Elrond kept himself hidden, taking note of every aspect of the camp. The cave, the orcs, the guards outside. He needed to find a way to save her. He had to. But the sight of her outside the cave was almost to much for him. He was just a few meters away and yet he felt like a world separated them. He wanted nothing more then to run towards her and hold her but he knew it was too dangerous, he had to bide his time till an oppourtunity came up,

the orcs began to hide away as the sun was set to rise but one large orc came out and looked over the captured prisoners He walked among them, sniffling them, touching them, to select whichever would be the victim of 'the pile'

The pile was a common torment orcs inflicted on female elves, they'd be stripped and tossed to a group no smaller than five, and they'd grab her limbs and take turns to violently rape her piling on her so she had no escape or resistance, they’d grope her, tickle her, humiliate and degrade her in whatever way they could

“That's not going to happen, I swear it. I won't let it” he thought to himself as he looked at the orc. His mind was racing trying to think of a way to save her before it was too late.

"This one." The orc demanded as he picked out the victim. It was Y/n

"No! No! Noo let me go!" She screamed

He watched as the orc picked Y/n. Rage and terror building up inside of him like never before. He couldn't let this happen he had to do something, There was no way he was going to let them hurt her. His heart was racing faster than ever as he frantically tried to think of a plan to stop them without alerting the orcs to his presence. This was the moment, if he didn't save her now he may never get another chance He knew that if he failed it could mean death for them both. But he was willing to risk it all. For her.

he picked up a rock and tossed it over to the other side of the pass, which caught the orcs attention, he grabbed a knife tossing Opheila to the floor before going to investigate leaving her and the other prisoners unattended,

He moved carefully as to not alert the other orcs to his presence and silently stepped towards where Y/n was lying on the ground His heart was in his mouth as he approached her.

She looked up at him and for a moment her eyes widened in disbelief, he could see the pain and fear she had endured in them, but as soon as she saw him a flicker of hope seemed to light them up. she began to silently cry tears of joy to see him, and she quickly moved to her feet, craning her head and holding up her arms so he could cut her binds

He gently began to cut through the ropes binding her with the swiftness of a practised hand. As soon as he removed the ropes he immediately pulled her into an embrace, holding her tight against him. He felt like he could finally breathe again now that she was in his arms. He never wanted to let her go

"Please…we have to get out of here…" she whispered her voice shaking from her broken and bruised lips

He nodded, knowing she was right. Time was running out, he couldn't afford to linger here and risk one of the Orcs coming back. Elrond helped to release the other prisoners letting them go free and he turned back to his beloved Y/n. He held her closer, his arm around her waist as he started backing away towards the mouth of the mountain pass. "Come on, we need to go. Can you run?"

she nodded "For you I can."

He smiled slightly at her response and placed a kiss on the top of her head. He was glad to see that her fighting spirit hadn't been broken even by the worst of torments. "Stay close to me, I'll keep you safe." He took her hand in his and they quickly made their escape into the night.

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

i only pray, don't fall away from me

fandom: The Lord of the Rings

pairing: Elrond Peredhel x Reader

summary: You get injured on patrol outside of Rivendell, as a result of your own inattentiveness. Elrond treats your wound, unaware of your affections for him.

tags/warnings: injury, blood, hurt/comfort, stitches, self-doubt

word count: 1650

As a member of Rivendell’s guard, you are no stranger to injuries. You’ve been shot at, slapped, and stabbed more times than you can count.

So, it’s hardly surprising when an orc blade manages to catch you while you’re out on watch. This time however, it’s your own lack of attention that causes the injury.

Your group is patrolling just beyond the borders of Rivendell, past the protection of Vilya. You ride at the back of the group, keeping your eyes and ears strained for anything out of the ordinary. A strange unease fell over you a while back, but you can’t decide if it’s just natural anxiety from leaving Vilya’s protection.

Before you can mull over it any further, a shout comes from the front of the pack, followed by a strangled growl. Orcs. They have been getting bolder, wandering closer and closer to Rivendell’s borders. You had hoped you wouldn’t run into any today, but that was a tall order.

Spurring your horse onward and into the now intense fray, you rapidly pull your sword and begin to fight. It’s a rather large band of orcs, not quite proficient in their fighting but certainly strong and powerful nonetheless. Already you hear some of your fellow elves grunting in pain as the orcs manage to graze them with their blades.

The battle is quick and dirty, the smell of orc blood thick in the air. As you fell the final orc with a quick jab of your sword, the rest of your comrades gather to clean their own weapons. A few of their flawless faces are specked with blood, but for the most part they seem unharmed. Just as you are about to sheath your own sword once again, a fierce roar sounds from behind you. You attempt to evade the oncoming blade but still, you feel the sharp sting of it against the side of your neck. Immediately, you press a hand to the rapidly bleeding wound, while an elvish arrow pierces the head of the lone orc.

The world spins around you as you hear your comrades calling your name. You wave them off with your free hand, assuring them that everything is fine. “Does anyone have any athelas?” you grunt. Someone hands you a bundle of the plant, and you crush it in your palm without hesitation before pressing it to the wound. The feeling of your blood is warm and slick as it seeps between your fingers. You vaguely register someone asking if the blade had hit your artery, and you manage a weak shake of your head. Your captain suggests heading back to get your wound treated, and you have no fight left in you to argue.

The athelas helps to soothe the sting of the wound, but in such a small quantity, it’s not doing much to slow the bleeding. You keep one hand pressed against your neck, the other on the reins of your horse. The gleaming light of Rivendell comes into view and you feel the gentle embrace of Vilya’s protection around you once again. The warmth of it nearly makes you fall over as your body relaxes. One of the other elves rides up beside you, concern on their face as they hold out a steadying hand. You shake them off and urge your horse on.

The ride is long and painful, mentally more than anything. You’re beating yourself up for missing the final foe, for allowing yourself to be blindsided.

As you step through Rivendell’s gates, you see that a small crowd has already amassed. Your captain and the rest of the company arrived moments before you, and it seems that word has spread quickly. As you dismount, the crowd parts and Lord Elrond steps forward, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Come,” he commands, and you have no choice but to follow as he leads you to the healing halls. You keep your head hung low, shame and embarrassment flooding through you.

As you enter the halls, Elrond turns to look at you inquisitively. “Why do you hide? Your wound is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You hop up onto a tall table. Through the slick of your blood, you can feel your pulse racing rapidly in your neck. “It is not my wound of which I am ashamed,” you murmur.

Elrond tuts and retrieves some healing supplies. The halls are quiet and deserted, which makes you feel even worse. Taking Elrond’s attention like this, when he surely has more important things to do. Elrond returns and stands before you, his voice steady as he reassures, “We all make mistakes. Do not linger on that which you cannot control.”

You try to take his words to heart but there’s a flicker of doubt that remains.

“Let me see,” he urges and gestures for you to remove your hand from the wound.

You withdraw, the cooling effect of the athelas fading as you move away. Immediately, Elrond’s face hardens into that of a healer and his eyes focus on the gash. “You are lucky the blade was not poisoned,” he mutters, still a few feet away as he examines your neck. “This is far too close to your artery for my liking.”

He steps closer, and you unconsciously part your legs to accommodate him within your space. A fierce blush washes over you and you avoid Elrond’s concerned gaze. “Are you feeling feverish?” he questions, attributing your flushed face to your injury.

You swallow thickly and instantly regret the movement as the wound pulses. You wince and rasp out a “no” in response. Elrond’s face softens and he returns his eyes to your neck. He holds a clean, damp rag to the wound to soak up some of the blood. “I’ll have to stitch this,” he says, more to himself than to you. “It will be difficult to heal. The wound will want to reopen with much movement.”

You groan internally at the thought of being removed from patrols while you recover. Your captain will have no qualms about leaving you behind, especially after this incident.

Elrond removes the rag and picks up a suturing needle and thread. You realize all at once how close he is to you, that you can feel his warm breath against your neck as he examines the wound once more. From this distance, you can almost see the twinkle of starlight in his eyes.

You push back the feelings of adoration and infatuation that bubble up within you. All your life you’ve felt… something for the elvish lord, but the discipline of being a warrior has left those thoughts to the wayside. You’ve been treated by Elrond for various wounds before, but never has he been so close. Now, with him standing so near, showering you with such attention, you cannot deny your attraction to him. But this is not the time for such childish feelings – you attempt to control the pervasive thoughts.

Unfortunately, your body is not so easily controlled. Your pulse continues to race, even more so under Elrond’s gentle touch as he stitches the wound. Your skin is flushed and you can’t imagine how red you must be – the tips of your ears feel on fire. Each breath is somewhat of a pant as the adrenaline of your schoolgirl crush courses through you.

Suddenly, one of Elrond’s hands is resting on your abdomen. His fingers splay across the fabric of your clothing, and you can feel the warmth of his palm seeping to your skin. The touch catches you by surprise and you meet his eyes.

“Calm,” he murmurs. “Breathe into my hand. You are in shock, I believe.”

How can he not see? How can he not see that his touch burns like fire, that his proximity only makes things worse in the best way possible? How can be so oblivious to the feelings that, to you, appear all powerful?

Yet, you manage a deep breath and it seems to help. Elrond keeps his hand upon your abdomen for a moment longer, apparently reassuring himself of your safety. His eyes flit back to the wound and he completes the sutures. You focus on the feeling of them tugging at your skin, a sensation which distracts you from the still-burning shadow of his hand.

Finally, Elrond places the needle back down. He secures a large bandage to the side of your neck, covering the gruesome injury. He doesn’t move away, instead bringing his fingers to your wrist to check your pulse. With nothing to distract you now, you have no choice but to feel the warmth of his touch, the electricity.

“Deep breaths, remember,” he reminds you, still attributing your rapid pulse to your injury.

Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so thick.

Sometimes you’re grateful for his obliviousness. It certainly spares you an enormous amount of embarrassment.

“The stitches will need to come out in ten days,” he says, fingers still circling your wrist. His thumb rubs small circles on the back of your hand, and you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. “Come to me immediately if you feel feverish or ill.”

You nod and wait for him to step away, to release your hand. He doesn’t, remaining standing between your legs with his eyes trained on your hand.

“Hîr nin?” you question quietly. The tips of your ears begin to burn again.

He murmurs your name in response, eyes flitting up to meet your briefly. “I hate to see you hurt.” He whispers the words like a secret, like they are just for your ears.

You are silent for a moment as the implications of that statement sink in.

Before you can answer him, he releases your hand and steps away. An admittedly large part of you misses his closeness. “Please do try to be more careful.” With a swish of his robes, he turns and walks away.

[queenstarlight2]

A plan is put in place, and two elves grow hungry

yandere Thranduil and Elrond (4.5K) (NON-CON)(Final chapter, but might pick it back up if people want me to) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 summery: Elrond puts sleeping herbs in your tea, and you meet Thranduil in his chambers alongside Elrond and outcomes ensue

Elrond's mind was a swirling vortex of conflicting emotions as he went about his morning routine. He couldn't seem to focus on anything but the thought of seeing Star for their late afternoon tea. He knew that he had agreed to drug her, and the guilt and unease of that knowledge tugged at his heart, but simultaneously, he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards her, the undeniable attraction that drew him like a moth to a flame.

As the hours ticked by, his anticipation and anxiety mounted, building to an almost unbearable level. The sun rose higher in the sky, painting Rivendell in golden light, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't clear his mind of the thought of her face, her voice, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she looked at him. The thought of seeing her again, of being close to her, was addictive, even as the guilt and doubt continued to eat away at him.

His mind seemed to be a constant battleground, his heart torn between the desire to be near her and the knowledge that he had agreed to do something terrible. He knew he shouldn't, knew that he was betraying her trust and breaking the ethics he held dear as a healer, but the pull was too strong. The thought of seeing her made his heart race.

The knock on the door came at exactly the appointed time, and Elrond's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then opened the door. Standing on the other side, looking beautiful and radiant in the late afternoon sun, was his soon-to-be beloved

Elrond ushered her inside, trying to keep his expression calm and composed. "Welcome," he said, his voice betraying nothing of the conflicted emotions that roiled within him. "Please, come in and have a seat."

As she walked into the room, Elrond couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. She was wearing a simple but elegant dress, the fabric flowing around her like liquid mercury. The sunlight caught in her hair, making it glow like a halo around her face. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, and her lips were lifted in a small smile. She looked both innocent and mischievous, a combination that was both captivating and dangerous.

As she moved further into the room, Elrond felt his heart rate increase, and he had to force himself to remain calm. He motioned to a low table with a teapot, cups, and snacks already laid out. "Please, have a seat," he said again, his voice a little hoarse. "I have some tea prepared if you would like some."

Star looked around the room, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the cozy, homey atmosphere. "This is lovely," she said, her voice soft and pleasant. "Thank you for having me." She took a seat at the table, folding her hands in her lap, her expression polite and eager.

Elrond poured the tea, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His mind was a swirling cesspool of mixed emotions - excitement, fear, and guilt all vying for dominance. He tried to focus on the act of pouring the tea, but his thoughts kept darting to the sleeping herb he had mixed into Star's cup. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming uneven and shallow. He knew what he was about to do was wrong, but the thought of having her all to himself was too enticing to resist.

As Elrond handed her the cup of tea, she noticed the slight tremor in his hand and the way his gaze seemed to dart away from hers before fixing back on her face. Concern flickered in her eyes, and she tilted her head slightly, studying him intently. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and worry.

Elrond plastered a half-convincing smile on his face, trying to push aside the guilt and unease that warred within him. "Yes, everything is fine," he said, his voice a little too bright. "I'm just a little… distracted, is all."

Star's gaze remained on him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of what might be bothering him. Her instincts were telling her that something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She took a small sip of the tea, her eyes never leaving his face.

Elrond's heart was racing as he watched her take a sip of the tea. The sleeping herb he had mixed into it would take effect soon, and he knew that once she fell asleep, he would have her at his mercy. The thought both excited and terrified him, and he had to force himself to maintain his composure.

Elrond took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, then sat down across from Star. He tried to maintain a casual, relaxed expression, but his heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty.

Elrond took a deep, shaky breath and forced himself to focus on the moment. He knew he had to keep up the act, if only for a little longer. He fixed his gaze on Star, trying to look relaxed and charming, and forced his voice to come out steady and steady. "How is the tea? I hope it's to your liking."

Star took another small sip of the tea, her eyes still locked on Elrond's. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off, but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. "It's delicious, thank you," she said, her voice soft. "You are a master of all things, aren't you?"

Elrond's heart skipped a beat at her words, and he couldn't help but bask in the praise. Despite the situation, he was secretly pleased that she had noticed his skills. "I do try my best," he said, forcing a smile. "But there's always room for improvement, isn't there?"

Star smiled back, her eyes still searching his face for any hint of what was bothering him. She took another sip of the tea, her instincts still telling her something was amiss. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" she asked, her voice a little more serious.

Elrond's heart rate spiked at the question, and he had to force down the immediate instinct to say no. "Of course," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Ask me anything."

Star leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked on his. "You seem different today," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Something is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is?"

Elrond's heart constricted in his chest at her words. Her perception was unnerving, and his guilt spiked. But he couldn't tell her the truth, not now. "It's… nothing," he said, the lie sticking in his throat. "Just some work-related stress."

Star's eyes narrowed slightly, her intuition telling her that his answer was only partially truthful. "Are you sure that's all it is?" she asked, her voice quiet. "You can tell me the truth, you know. I won't judge you."

Elrond's mind raced as he tried to come up with a believable excuse. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Finally, he settled on a partial truth, mixed in with a lie. "You're right," he said, his voice quiet. "Something is weighing on my mind. It's just… I feel guilty for being attracted to you. My wife is in the Grey Havens, and I know it's wrong to feel this way."

Star's expression softened, and her eyes filled with empathy. "It's okay," she said, her voice gentle. "We can't always control our feelings, no matter how much we want to. I understand how hard it must be for you."

Elrond couldn't help but feel relieved that Star had accepted his excuse. He had expected her to see through the half-truths and lies, but she had bought his story hook, line, and sinker. A part of him felt guilty for duping her, but the larger part was just thankful that he had managed to keep her in the dark about the sleeping herbs.

As the conversation went on

Star's eyelids began to droop, and she stifled a yawn. "I don't know about you," she said, her voice slightly slurred, "but I'm feeling oddly tired."

Elrond's heart raced as he saw the effect of the sleeping herbs taking hold of her. Her eyes were becoming glassy, and her head was drooping slightly. "Perhaps you're just tired from the day's activities," he suggested, feigning concern.

As the herbs continued to take effect, Star's mind began to become disjointed and unfocused. She looked up at Elrond, her eyelids drooping heavily, and tried to speak. "I… I need to go," she mumbled, her words slurring. "Thranduil is waiting…" She stopped to yawn and then looked back up at him with a smile. "Thank you for the tea… it was lovely… and you are too…"

Elrond felt a pang of guilt and regret as he heard her words, but he pushed it down, knowing that there was no going back now. "You're very welcome," he said, his voice gentle. "I'm glad you enjoyed the tea."

As the sleeping herbs continued to work their magic, Star stood up from the table, her movements unsteady. She wobbled a little, and Elrond reached out to steady her, his heart heavy with guilt. "Careful," he said, his voice still feigning concern. "You look like you need some support."

Star leaned on him a little, her eyes half closed. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I'm just… tired. So tired…" Elrond felt a pang of guilt as he saw the effects of the herbs on her. Her head was drooping, and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. But he kept a firm grip on her arm, guiding her to the door.

"Come on," he said, his voice gentler than he felt. "Let me walk you to Thranduil's chambers. You shouldn't be wandering around alone like this."

Star didn't protest, her mind too fuzzy to think straight. She simply nodded and let Elrond lead her out of the room and down the hallway. She stumbled a little, her footsteps heavy and erratic, but Elrond kept a steady grip on her arm, guiding her toward Thranduil's chambers.

As they walked, a few guards and servants passed by, eyeing the pair with curiosity. Elrond kept his expression composed, his mind racing with excuses in case they asked questions. But luckily, no one seemed to pay them much attention, and they made it to Thranduil's chambers without incident.

Elrond reached the door to Thranduil's chambers and paused for a moment, his hand hovering in the air. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and then knocked on the door.

There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened, revealing Thranduil standing on the other side. His eyes flicked from Elrond to Star, who was leaning heavily on Elrond's arm, her eyes half-lidded and her movements sluggish.

Thranduil's expression remained neutral, but Elrond could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He knew what they had planned, and he was eager to get on with it. Thranduil nodded in greeting, his voice cool and controlled. "I see you brought her," he said.

Thanduil stepped aside and gestured for Elrond to bring Star inside. He watched with a mix of fascination and excitement as Elrond led Star into the room, her steps faltering and her eyes glazed over.

As Elrond guided Star into the room, Thranduil stepped closer to her, his eyes studying her face intently. He reached out and gently touched her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. "How are you feeling, darling?" he asked. "Elrond and I were hoping we could take care of you tonight. Would you like that?"

Star's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Thanduil's voice, and she looked up at him with a confused, unfocused gaze. She didn't seem to fully understand what was being asked of her, but she nodded weakly, her head still foggy from the herbs. "Yes," she mumbled. "Yes, please… take care of me…"

Thanduil led the way to the bed, with Elrond following closely behind with Star still leaning heavily on him. They reached the bed, and with a quick gesture from Thanduil, Elrond gently laid Star down on the bed. She lay there, her eyes half-lidded and her body limp, as Thanduil and Elrond hovered over her. Thanduil's eyes flicked to Elrond, silently communicating his plan.

Elrond nodded in understanding, his heart hammering in his chest. As much as he felt guilty about what he was doing, he knew there was no stopping now. With tentative movements, he reached for the buttons on Star's dress, his fingers shaking slightly as he began to undo them one by one.

Meanwhile, Thanduil stood near the bed, watching with growing excitement as Elrond undressed Star. His eyes glittered with a predatory gleam, and his breath came faster as more and more of her skin was slowly revealed. He reached out and gently ran his hand down her leg, his touch rough yet appreciative.

As they continued to undress Star, the mood in the room grew heated and charged. Thanduil and Elrond's touches grew increasingly intimate, their fingers roaming over her skin with a growing sense of possessiveness. Thanduil's hands slid up her leg, his touch becoming possessive as he spoke. "She's so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "She's ours now… ours to do with as we please."

Elrond watched as Thanduil touched her, a mix of guilt and arousal coursing through him. His own hands were on her body as well, roaming over her curves and caressing her skin. "She's so soft," he agreed, his voice thick with need. "So innocent.."

Thanduil's eyes flicked to Elrond, and he smirked. "You're enjoying this more than you thought you would, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a little mocking. "You're not feeling guilty anymore, are you?"

Elrond felt a pang of shame at Thanduil's words, but he couldn't deny the truth in them. He was enjoying this, more than he had expected to. His hands continued to roam over Star's body, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership and power over her. "No," he admitted, his voice a little huskier than before. "I'm not feeling guilty anymore. I want this just as much as you do."

As Thanduil's and Elrond's touches grew more insistent, Star's body began to respond. She let out a soft moan, her back arching slightly as Thanduil's hand roamed over her curves. Her eyelids fluttered, and her head rolled to the side, her hair spilling over the pillow. She was completely at their mercy, her body reacting to their touch despite the drugged state she was in.

Thanduil and Elrond glanced at each other, both surprised and pleased by the sound of her moan. They could feel her body responding to their touch, and it only heightened their desire for her even more. They continued to touch and caress her, their hands and fingers exploring every inch of her body, leaving no skin untouched. Every moan and whimper that escaped Star's lips was like gasoline on the fire of their desire. Thanduil's hands became more possessive, gripping her body with a rougher edge, while Elrond's touch remained a little more gentle but no less insistent.

As they continued to touch and explore her body, Thanduil's thoughts and desires took a darker turn. He suddenly leaned in close to Elrond, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Isn’t she beautiful?" he asked

With a nod, Elrond replied, "Indeed." His heart raced as he watched Thranduil's hands slide up Star's thighs, teasingly brushing against her sensitive flesh. Despite knowing this wasn't right, Elrond found himself unable to resist the allure of their shared obsession. Their actions were becoming increasingly intimate, fueled by lust and possession.

Feeling emboldened by Elrond's silence, Thranduil moved closer still until their bodies were pressed tightly together against her helpless form. His mouth hovered near her earlobe as he whispered words filled with dark promises into her ear. "You belong to us now," he purred menacingly, sending chills down her spine. At once, he slid his hand beneath her nightgown, tracing slow circles around her navel before dipping lower until his fingertips brushed against her damp folds. Meanwhile, Elrond trailed kisses along her neck, his arousal growing stronger by the second as he watched them together. This was wrong—so very wrong—but neither could deny the powerful pull drawing them deeper into depravity.

Unknowingly, Star slept through the entire encounter. Her mind was clouded by the tranquilizers mixed in with her drink earlier that evening - rendering her limbs heavy and numb, and stealing away what little resistance she might have put up otherwise. But even in sleep, she couldn't escape their clutches entirely. Thranduil's hand carefully slipped underneath her dress, finding its way between her legs where he continued to tease and stroke her already swollen clit without mercy. Meanwhile, Elrond moved closer still, pressing his hardening cock against her bare ass cheek which stirred something deep inside him - an urge to claim what was his whether awake or asleep.

Thranduil and Elrond locked eyes again. There was something feral burning bright in those depths that both frightened and excited the other man. Without breaking contact, Thranduil whispered hoarsely, "She belongs to us now… don't you think?" Elrond didn't hesitate to answer, his voice low and raspy with desire. "Yes," he breathed back, "We should never have denied ourselves this opportunity." There was a dangerous undertone to their conversation but also an undeniable thrill that danced along their spines. They were walking a fine line between sanity and madness, lust and violence – and they loved every second of it.

Thranduil slowly pulled away from Star, his hand trailing lightly across her stomach before reaching behind to release his thick cock from his trousers. It sprang free instantly, standing tall and proud against his pale skin. Without further ado, he positioned himself at her entrance, nudging her to open slowly with the tip of his erection. Her pussy was slick with anticipation, welcoming him inside with eager ease. As he pushed forward, feeling her walls stretching around him, Thranduil groaned deeply, losing himself in the sensation of finally being joined by her after a day of tormented longing. He thrust forward powerfully then retreated slowly, savoring every inch of her warmth surrounding him.

Moans of pure bliss escaped her lips as Thranduil's cock plunged deep inside her. Each thrust caused her to buck wildly against him, her body begging for more as it craved the feeling of fullness and belonging that came with being taken by these two powerful Elves. Elrond couldn't resist joining in, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking greedily while using his free hand to massage her other breast, sending waves of ecstasy rippling throughout her entire being. Thranduil's eyes rolled back in pleasure as he moved rhythmically within her sleeping form. He couldn't believe how tight she felt around him, even in her unconscious state.

Her soft moans filled the air, fueling his lust further. Meanwhile, Elrond watched them intently, his hands roaming over her body before sliding underneath her to cup her firm ass, helping Thranduil's thrusts go deeper. He could feel his release building up, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to the intense desire consuming him. "She fits us perfectly," Elrond managed to choke out between labored breaths. The thought of sharing Star sent a thrill through both of them, only heightening the sensations coursing through their bodies. Their combined pleasure echoed throughout the dimly lit chamber, each movement bringing them closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Unable to bear it any longer, Elrond decided to take his place alongside Thranduil. He knelt beside Star, positioning himself so that he faced Thranduil's chiseled abs, giving him an enticing view of the king thrusting into the girl. Gently nudging Thranduil aside, Elrond leaned over to press a hot kiss against her lips, slipping his tongue past her teeth when she parted them with a soft moan. Feeling Thranduil's cock slide out of her, he replaced it with his own, filling her. Their shared lover writhed in pleasure between them, caught in their intimate embrace. Elrond started moving rhythmically, matching Thranduil's pace as they took turns claiming her. They shared knowing looks, their lust-filled minds syncing perfectly. "She's ours now," Elrond growled possessively against Star's mouth before biting down lightly on her lower lip. The thrill of their illicit act only made him more eager to make her fully aware of what was happening once she woke up. Their plan was set in motion - nothing would ever be the same for her again.

As Elrond continued his relentless assault on Star's lips, his thoughts drifted toward the tantalizing idea of double penetration. He glanced up at Thranduil, whose own passion seemed insatiable. "Imagine taking her together," he breathed into Thranduil's ear. "Both our cocks inside her, filling her." The image sent a shockwave through him, causing his movements to become even more urgent. Thranduil paused mid-stroke, considering Elrond's words. His eyes narrowed as a wicked smirk played upon his lips. "Yes," he agreed, "That would truly mark her as ours." Their gazes locked, and for a moment, there was no one else in the room except for them and the beautiful, vulnerable creature trapped between them. They both knew it was wrong - but that only made it feel so much more right.

Lost in their depraved desires, Elrond and Thranduil couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have Star completely at their mercy – fully aware of their possession. In hushed whispers, Elrond suggested, "Once she's awake…" he trailed off, his eyes sparking with a dangerous hunger as he slid his cock out of her mouth and replaced it with Thranduil's, allowing him to taste her wetness. "We'll show her who she belongs to," Thranduil finished the thought, pulling out from her tight heat so that Elrond could enter her instead. The two elves shared an intense look, their arousal peaking at the thought of having her in every way possible. Elrond thrust into her, burying himself deep as they prepared for what was yet to come. "Double penetration," he said, a hint of malice lacing his tone as he glanced over at Thranduil, "We'll fill her so completely she won't know where one ends and the other begins." Thranduil's breath hitched, and he nodded eagerly, stroking himself as he watched Elrond take her. The anticipation of claiming her fully consumed them, making each movement inside her more urgent and demanding.

Thranduil's gaze remained locked onto Star's beautiful face, her features twisted in pleasure as Elrond claimed her beneath him. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy mixed with pure desire. As Elrond picked up speed, the bedrock beneath them seemed to vibrate in tandem with their movements. The sound of their combined efforts filled the room along with Star's increasing moans – and it was music to Thranduil's ears. His cock ached for release, but he held back, determined to make the most of this moment. He leaned over to kiss Elrond's neck, teeth scraping against his sensitive flesh before he asked hoarsely, "Do you think she'll enjoy it? When we both fill her up?" Elrond groaned in response, the mere suggestion driving him wild. Thranduil's fingers tightened around his shaft as he imagined the sensation of pushing into Star alongside Elrond, stretching her even further and hearing her beg for mercy. "She'll beg for more," Elrond finally managed to say, his voice strained with need. Thranduil smirked at the thought, his body shuddering in anticipation. Their wicked plan took shape in their minds as they continued pleasuring her, every thrust bringing them closer to the edge – and to the moment they'd been waiting for since she first arrived in their realm.

Thranduil's control snapped, and he moaned out his release, filling her already overflowing pussy with his seed. The sensation of their combined cum inside her was almost too much to bear – but it was only a taste of what was to come. As he slowed his movements, the evidence of their liaison started to seep out of her, painting her thighs with a mixture of their pleasure. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned down to kiss her deeply, leaving her lips swollen and glistening. Pulling away, he whispered, "Soon, little one, you'll feel us both taking you at once." His voice was filled with a dark promise that sent shivers down Elrond's spine. They would have her fully aware and begging for more – they would make her crave them like she'd never craved anything before. Their plan was set, and Thranduil knew that once it was complete, Star would never be able to leave their grasp. He couldn't wait for the day she woke up to find herself completely owned by them, her body bearing the marks of their passion and her soul forever entwined with their own.

As Elrond cleaned them up and prepared Star for her eventual awakening, Thranduil couldn't keep his eyes off her – the way their combined cum glistened on her skin, the soft moans that still escaped her lips even in slumber. They had done something unforgivable, claimed her without her consent – but they couldn't deny the thrill it gave them. Their hearts raced at the thought of continuing this illicit affair, of taking her together in a way that would bind her to them irrevocably. As they lay beside her, each lost in their depraved thoughts, they knew that their lives had changed forever. The moment she opened her eyes, their story would truly begin. They exchanged knowing looks, each silently promising the other that they would see this twisted tale through to its conclusion – no matter the cost. Their desire for her had consumed them, and there was no turning back now. They would have her – body, mind, and soul – and nothing would stand in their way.

[queers-gambit]

Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[thelien-art]

Elrond and Celebrian, how I love them~

[jadehaven]

This is not a drill people i just discovered Robert’s Juilliard resume and listed as skills are BALLROOM, TANGO, and THE WALTZ for dancing.

Guys.

Elrond can waltz?

Elrond can waltz!

[blueflipflops]

One thing i like about the Celebrian x Elrond x Gil Galad ship is that Elrond is once again saying "RIP to my ancestors but i'm different". Like , oh Finwe marrying two people caused strife and doom? Cannot be him, he says as he kisses both his spouses on the mouth. Skill issue, he says as he raise their kids together without resentment between them. Its literally so funny to think about him sailing back to Valinor and was like "Well I have two hands so I'm married both of them :)" and nobody knows what to do with that

[child-of-the-nights]

hello! could u maybe write something for elrond where he gets injured saving reader and she shuts off and starts avoiding him because it made her realize she loves him and she panicked? maybe she's a widow like him too? if not thank you anyway <33

I love Elrond so much so of course! Have fun reading!

Warnings: injury, near death experience, battle (so expect killing as well), angst (with happy ending) -> nothing graphic tho

A/N: the reader is an elven woman in this oneshot but let me know if you would like something else ^^

word count: 1676 words

Elrond x Fem! Elf! Reader: Elrond gets injured and Reader avoids him

Although Elrond never enjoyed putting his people's lives in danger, he would never refuse to assist those in need if requested. That is how he ended up in the middle of a bloody battlefield where armor, weapons, and bodies were being flung around like nothing. He was skilled enough in combat to protect himself from the enemy's blades, though. No matter how many orcs tried to attack him, he easily defeated them.

The battle raged on, the sound of blades deafening those involved. Arrows sped through the air and soon struck their victim, whose cries were barely audible. The elves fought with unmatched skill and grace, and Elrond slowly led them to victory. By that time, the orcs were outnumbered, and the elven Lord had some time to look around and aid his kin.

Amidst the chaos, Elrond caught sight of you, a brave and spirited elven woman, fighting alongside your people. You were as competent as anyone on the battlefield, but it so happened that you became trapped, surrounded by enemies, with no way out. Elrond jumped into action and moved swiftly to get to you without even pausing for a second. His blades cut through your foes before they could strike you down. Once they were all dead, he took a glance at you, trying to check if you were hurt but before he could proceed, an awful strike hit Elrond. He stumbled back, clutching his side, his face twisted in pain. The sight of his injury sent a shiver of terror through you.

"Baw (No)!" you yelled as you circled around Elrond to slay the orc. Your opponent died because he couldn't get his sword out of the elf's body in time.

Even though you wished to help Elrond, you were unable to do so since your foes spotted the opportunity and approached him. He fought bravely despite having a serious wound, albeit his posture wasn't as steady as before. You held your ground and defeated as many orcs as you could before the enemy decided to retreat.

When it was safe to do so, Elrond fell to his knees and groaned in pain. You rushed to his side and helped him to find a comfortable position. Shouts could be heard from afar, but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

"Everything will be fine." with great effort, Elrond reassured you, his voice strained but filled with determination. "Mae carnen. (You did well)."

You tried saying something, but words simply didn't come out of your mouth. Some fellow elves came to their Lord's aid as you stumbled back to give them space. It only dawned on you just now that if you hadn't found yourself in this situation, Elrond wouldn't have been injured. Everything after the battle happened so fast, the elven Lord got safely brought back to Rivendell, where the healer's immediately began to work, while the rest of the elves slowly traveled back.

It didn't feel real to be traveling back to your home. It was almost as if you were seeing with your eyes but your head was blank. Seeing Elrond on the ground had left your face pale. Everything that had happened felt too familiar. It seemed like the day's happenings were right out of your nightmares—the nightmares about losing your beloved spouse. You started crying as you thought back to that terrible day. After they passed away, Elrond was the one who helped you recover because he knew how painful it was to lose a loved one—possibly the most precious of them all. Elrond was the one who took the time to help you heal by lending you his wisdom.

Your sobbing became more intense with each thought. You had come to a realisation as you reflected on the time you spent together, the comfort his presence provided you, and the coldness the separation brought you. You suddenly realized what you had been experiencing while around him. It was love. You considered yourself dumb for only realizing that at the last second, just as you might lose him. And you were genuinely horrified by that.

Weeks passed as Elrond received treatment for his wounds in the security of Rivendell. When you learned of his recovery, you felt both relief and anxiety at the same time. Overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you withdrew, avoiding Elrond's presence, afraid of what your feelings meant and the vulnerability that accompanied it. But, Elrond being Elrond, you knew he had noticed it. Since you two were close, visiting him while he was recovering would have made sense. And yet, since the battle, he had not seen you. You ached to be by his side, to console and comfort him, but you were unable to.

As Elrond slowly regained his strength, he sought out your presence. Every time Lindir came by to let you know that Lord Elrond had asked for your presence in the gardens, you would come up with an excuse not to go. You avoided him at every turn, anxiously waiting for him to pass through the corridor. You could see how his gaze searched for you in the halls, but you were nowhere to be found. Elrond became very concerned and yearned to know why you had been avoiding him. It was unlike you to act like this.

Determined to understand the cause of your withdrawal, he sought you out, finding you in the quiet solace of Rivendell's library. You had been reading a book, trying to take your mind off of the elven Lord. That was until a gentle tap on your shoulder turned your attention away from the book. Your stomach dropped as you realised who had disturbed you. He took a seat beside you, without asking you first.

"What are you reading, exactly?" Elrond asked with curiosity.

Suddenly forgetting what you were reading, you looked down to view the cover. "Oh, I just grabbed something off the shelves." You tried to avoid making eye contact as you shook your head.

Elrond grew silent, noticing how even now, you tried to run away from him. It broke his heart that you grew to resent him so. If he had to be honest, Elrond fell for you a long time ago. He never really showed it but he longed for someone who could understand his pain. And then you appeared at his doorstep, asking for support after the death of your spouse. At first he just looked at you as a friend, but those feelings soon grew. If you hadn't expressed your disinterest in dating, he would've said something sooner. But being the gentleman that he is, he respected your bounderies and tried to move on. The problem was that he couldn't.

"Please, mellon nîn (my friend)," he began softly, his voice carrying a mix of concern and vulnerability, "help me understand. Why do you avoid me so? What has come between our friendship?"

Those words stung. You sighed, unable to give him a straight up answer. But you knew Elrond valued honesty so you gathered all your strenght and looked him in the eyes. "I cannot express it, Elrond, for I fear if I do, history will repeat itself."

Elrond looked deep in thought, carefully deciding his next sentence. "I'm not quite sure I follow." he admitted.

You looked away, trying to hide your pained expression. "The battlefield, brannon nîn (my lord). It was my fault."

"It hardly was." he shook his head, slowly sliding closer to you. When you had not moved away, he reached out to grab your hand.

"You nearly lost your life, Elrond!" you yelled. "If that blade was aimed just a bit higher, you would've dropped dead! And it would've been because of me! Because I was incompetent enough, to let myself get trapped!"

"Please, do not think of yourself this way." his pained voice could be barely heard. Elrond's eyes widened in shock at what you were saying. He in no way had blamed you for his injury. "Any of us could've been in your situation. You fought well, you came to my aid when I needed it. Why do you put yourself down?"

"I just..." you sighed. "I can't lose you too, Elrond."

His grip on your hands became firmer. "Is this the reason for your withdrawal?"

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. Although it was difficult, there was a part of you that wanted him to be aware of your worries. No matter how hard you tried to turn it off, that self-indulgent part of you wanted to be comforted by him. "My feelings, they terrify me. It's as if acknowledging them would make my fears come true. After I lost... them, I didn't want to put myself through the pain of loving someone but on the battlefield I had realised that I had already broken that promise. You matter so much to me that I cannot even express it with words. I have fallen in love with you, Elrond. And it scared me."

Elrond took each of your words in carefully. He pondered on them for some time before giving you a nod. Elrond's gaze softened as his hand reached out to gently cup your face. "I understand your fear. Loss leaves deep scars upon our hearts. But shutting ourselves off from love only denies us the chance to heal. I, too, have felt the sting of loss, the ache of a heart once broken. Yet, here we stand, with an opportunity to experience something quite beautiful together."

His words shocked you. "You feel the same way?"

"Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart)." Elrond smiled at you.

Finally, when he whispered those words, you felt the warmth of his presence spread throughout your body. Elrond welcomed your hug as you threw yourself into his arms. Although your worries have not vanished, it helped a lot to know that someone was by your side.