#elrond (mentioned)

[serailovesbagelsetc]

looking at Elrond's hands extremely disrespectfully,may god forgive me

[braxix]

Maglor: I'm actually starting to get concerned about what Elrond brings home.

Maedhros: About time. What clues you in? The warg pup or the sixteen orcs he has befriended and folded into society?

Maglor: He came home with a baby dragon this time. Elros said no for us, don't worry.

[sesamenom]

interesting how in the FA "beyond lay the wilderness of Dungortheb, where the sorcery of Sauron and the power of Melian came together, and horror and madness walked", then in the TA the Fangorn-Lorien-Mirkwood triangle of Weird Sorcery Forests exists between the domains of saruman, galadriel, necromancer-sauron, and radagast

[inthehouseoffinwe]

A Meeting in Valinor

Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.

Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)

Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.

Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.

“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”

Elrond’s face slackened.

“It cannot be...”

Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.

“Hello, Ada.”

Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.

“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”

Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.

Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.

“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”

Elrond hugged him again.

“How’s Arwen?”

“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.

“Milady, I-“

Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.

“Mil-“

“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”

The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.

“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”

Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.

“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”

Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”

Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Well this should be interesting.”

“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”

“Is that so?”

Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.

“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”

Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.

“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”

Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.

“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”

Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.

“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“

Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.

“I do not know if I can.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.

“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”

The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.

“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”

A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.

“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Wise advice, no?”

“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”

Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.

“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.

Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s why I’m here.”

[anetherealpoetess]

just discovered that robert aramayo went to juilliard. okay educated king!!

[valacirya]

It is their first battle as commanders. The twins stand at the head of an army hungry for revenge. Names are shouted as war cries by people united through loss. For Fingolfin. For Thingol. For Lúthien and Finrod and Turgon and Denethor. For Beren and Haleth and Bór and Húrin.

For Gondolin and Nargothrond and Doriath. For Dorthonion and Brethil and Hithlum.

For Sirion.

Elros lifts Dramborleg and says, for Eärendil. Elrond draws Aranrúth and replies, for Elwing.

And the battle begins.

[likesdoodling]

Guess what I just finished ehehehe >:D

Oh yeah- the 'I see your wife' was a bit hard to do so I just replaced it with the next best 'murderer plus innocence' parallel I could think of-

(and the tags I got to cover the last few bits got cut off, so I have decided to include the last minute of dramatic commentary here instead-

:(:( Alas alack~ poor Finrod-

Oh look it's Gondolin! And Maeglin too, fancy that. Wonder why he's there, anyway, moving on-

Fingon gets some more screentime, -and no. I am not naming the Balrogs involved. They don't deserve it >:(

And after that it's pretty self explanatory.

I mean.

If you know who Feanor and his sons are you probably get what's going on here. :'(

>:)

[nanawaffles]

*taps mic* Maedhros and Maglor might not have been mentioned as Elronds foster-kidnap dads openly because no rights were bought by them. But as far as I'm concerned, Elrond snapping an orcs neck and defending Celebrimbors work notes with every fibre of his being bmight as well have been explicit references. Thank you.

[sandwichmustbetasty]

yes, hello, can we talk more about elrond's beauty

[ichabodjane]

The Rings of Power S01E04 “The Great Wave”: A Brief Recap Pt 4

[Pt2]  [Pt3]  [Pt4]  [Masterpost]

[stacytea]

Maedhros during the War of Wrath

I've been thinking a lot about it lately. Here comes a big hc drop: For starters let me say, I imagine the War of Wrath as maybe not a really long conflict, at least not very long for elvish standards, but a very devastating one. Beleriand was hardly liveable at this point, so I imagine that most of the supplies they had was what the host of Aman had brought with them. Considering that, they probably started running out of things after the first couple of years of war effort. Yes, the Balar island was still functioning at this point, but I don't think they had strong enough economy to do much more than sustain themselves and I think maybe there were some rare deliveries from Valinor from time to time, but I have this idea that it wasn't nearly enough. The war was consuming way more resources than could've been provided and as the time was going on it was getting gradually worse. Like I think that at the most critical point there were deficiencies of literally everything, from food & medical supplies to clothes & weapons. They stopped sending archers to fight, because there was no material to make arrows anymore, thousands of soldiers were dying from curable injuries, because the healers (there was a very strong shortcoming of them as well) didn't even have things as basic as bandages & maintaining hygiene was nearly impossible ( don't get me started on how it impacted Elrond who I headcanon to be one of the healers there and only something like 18 in human years and had to witness something like 5 out of 6 of his patients die and there was no time to even sleep, not to mention rest, because every wasted second is a lost life and there was just an overwhelming amount of death and despair all around him, and he wasn't able to do anything about it, wasn't able to really help) So let's imagine these thousands of exhausted, underfed, miserable, war-worn, I would even dare to say - halfway dead people, who just want this horror to end.... and then there's Maedhros. Maedhros, who had survived horrors far worse back when he had been a prisoner in angband, had survived hunger that could never be compared by any means to these little food deficiencies he had to deal with now, yeah, he didn't get to eat anything in three days, so what? This guy had watched his own downfall from the front row, had slayed civilians in Doriath and Sirion instead of fighting Morgoth... And now he was back where he belonged. On the frontlines. Leading armies against the enemy. Once again doing what he knew he should've been doing all that time. I believe during the War of Wrath Maedhros was more alive than he ever had been since his husband's Fingon's death. He was literally radiating energy and charisma, his mental state was very much improved. Once again he was Maedhros the tall, the Lord of Himring a Noldorin Warlord, not some heinous murderer, not a monster. For the first time in many years he was doing something that actually felt right.

[orca-worca-woo]

Look, did they absolutely ruin Elrond’s character in the Lord of The Rings movies? Yes, absolutely. That is not Hugo Weaving’s fault. He put his whole elfussy into that performance with what he was given and he deserves to win the @medievalandfantasymelee poll

[raointean]

Elrond Week Day 7 - Sanctuary and Departure

In which Elrond is stubbornly refusing to speak with his parents after arriving in Valinor and Celebrían has a clever solution.

Celebrían sighed exasperatedly as she noticed Elrond reading his book on their couch, pointedly not looking at the letter-writing materials not five feet away from him. “Are you intending to ignore your parents for the rest of time?”

Elrond hardly even glanced up at her as he responded. “No, of course not. I am simply waiting for them to reach out to me first.”

Celebrían pursed her lips and sank down into a nearby chair. Her husband had been in Valinor nearly a year and a half already; this had gone on long enough. “I do not pretend to know Elwing’s mind,” she began, treading lightly on the delicate subject. “But do you not think it is possible that she may be waiting to see if you even wish to speak to her after all this time? You were very young when you were… separated, and she knows this. Perhaps she is trying to be sensitive of the possibility that you have moved on and is trying to give you space so as not to cause conflict...?” 

The ‘As you so often do?’ in her head remained unsaid.

Elrond shot her a look that told her he would not hear any more on the topic and said nothing. They were so much alike, Celebrían thought to herself, although she knew neither of them would admit it. She had only met Elwing once or twice, but even from that she could identify their similarities. Both of them were stern and intimidating people at first glance. Under Elrond’s commanding exterior lay layers upon layers of kindness and generosity and, while Celebrían did not know Elwing well enough to say the same of her, there was no way anyone could genuinely be that stern.

At both of their cores, however, lay deeply wounded, anxious, and insecure people. Celebrían knew from long experience that, while a certain level of healing was possible, the scars of such wounds stubbornly remained. 

Upon their first meeting at a holiday party in Tirion, Elwing had pulled Celebrían aside as soon as she possibly could and questioned her about Elrond. How he was, what he was like and, most importantly, what his opinions of his mother were. Celebrían, taken aback by her directness and still recovering from her… ordeal, had unfortunately answered honestly: Elrond was occasionally curious about her, but usually changed the subject whenever she came up.

The woman had been heartbroken, but concealed it well. Celebrían had tried to reach out a few times after that, but Elwing had always respectfully declined. Now, Celebrían couldn’t help but feel that their current predicament was her own fault. If she had given a kinder report of Elrond’s feelings about her, perhaps Elwing would have the courage to reach out.

But it was no matter, Celebrían had a plan…

Not two seconds later, there came a knock at the door. Right on time.

Elrond rose from his seat to get the door and Celebrían followed close behind, saying, “That must be the geologist I told you about.”

Celebrían had met many of the elves that lived in their area, including a couple that lived on the far end of the valley. She and the wife, Amaurëa, had become dear friends and soon discovered that their husbands both shared a passion for rock, stones, and minerals. While Elrond’s fascination with such things had remained a hobby, her friend's husband, Elcair, had made a profession of it. 

Though they had been visiting Amaurëa's family for the past two years, Celebrían had invited them to call at their earliest convenience to see what Elrond had brought with him from Middle Earth. It was a giant chest of stone and mineral samples, all meticulously sorted, cleaned, and cared for. Elrond had decided to bring it just in case there were elements in Middle Earth that were not present in Aman. Despite the chest being two feet wide and four feet long, he insisted that he had only brought his favorites. 

Celebrían opened the door to see two elves. One, the woman, short and slender with a flattering green dress. She wore no cloak in the warm spring air. The other, her husband, stood head and shoulders above her, his athletic build honed by centuries of hiking, cliff climbing, and spelunking. He examined the ornately carved doorframe instead of looking Celebrían in the eye. 

“Welcome!” Celebrían cried, reaching out to clasp her friend's hand. “How was your visit? I know you have been missing your mother terribly.”

Amaurëa stepped inside with a courteous smile. “It was wonderful. Ammë is well, and so is my new brother.” 

Her eyes slid to Elrond, standing just behind Celebrían's shoulder and he was quick to introduce himself. “I am Elrond, Cel's husband. It is a pleasure to finally meet one I have heard so much about.”

Amaurëa's smile grew wider at his friendly greeting and Celebrían, who knew her well, could see her relax. “Well met, Elrond. This,” she gestured to her husband who had finished examining the doorway and moved into the hallway, “is my husband, Elcair.”

Elcair nodded to Elrond rather stiffly, looking almost nervous. “Well met.”

He didn't go on so, after half a beat, Celebrían invited Amaurëa to the sitting room. “Come, I think I still have some of your favorite tea blend. I daresay Elrond and Elcair should like to get to their rocks.”

At this, Elcair's eyes visibly brightened, although he tried to conceal it. Elrond also noticed and began leading him to his personal study. “Yes, I think we will,” he said to their wives. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Amaurëa.”

Amaurëa nodded her farewell and followed Celebrían into the sitting room. Celebrían set the tea to steep, inwardly rejoicing that her plan had gone smoothly thus far. 

“How long do you think it will take them to realize?” Amaurëa asked her. She was in on the plan, of course. 

Celebrían glanced in the direction of the study. “As clever as they both are, they are discussing rocks so, it could be some time…”

—----

“Do you think the geology of Middle Earth differs much from that of Valinor?” Elcair asked suddenly as they walked down the hall.

He was an odd elf, Elrond observed. Quiet, blunt, absorbed in his own world; Elrond could respect that, even relate to it at times, but still… odd.

“I am not sure,” Elrond replied, opening his office door and ushering Elcair inside. “I have not traveled widely yet, but what I have seen here in this valley is not at all different from what I am familiar with. Although…” he said thoughtfully. “Are there any volcanoes here?”

Elcair chuckled and shook his head. “Alas, no. I have never had the privilege of seeing them in person. My research on that topic has been limited to accounts of those who have seen them, and discussions with Aulë. He is a fountain of geologic knowledge,” he was quick to clarify, “but he has an unfortunate habit of failing to look at the bigger picture.”

Interesting, Elrond thought to himself. He had not thought that the vala of stone and metallurgy would focus on anything narrowly. Then again, Aulë was the creator of the dwarves…

“You are not missing out on much,” Elrond reassured him, unlocking his chest of geological samples. “I spent much time near the volcano, Oroduin, in Mordor during the War of the Last Alliance. I would be happy to share my observations with you, but I do not recommend going anywhere near an active volcano. It took decades for me to breathe easily again.”

Elcair opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly distracted as Elrond opened the chest. Several shelves unfolded from it: one for sedimentary rocks, one for igneous rocks, one for metamorphic rocks, and two for minerals. 

They were separated by type of course, but their order was… unconventional when compared to most geologists’ collections in Middle Earth. They ordered their samples alphabetically or by density, but Elrond- Elrond ordered his collection by Music.

There was Music in everything the Ainur had created, though few were attuned to it. In fact, Elrond had met no one else but his own son, Elladan, who could hear the music of stone as he could. The igneous rock with its quick tempos and sharp sounds, the metamorphic rock with its melodies that bent this way and that, the sedimentary rock with its slow tempos and melodies that told the stories of a thousand different deaths, the minerals with Songs as varied as the colors in the air.

Elrond could listen to them for an Age if no one disturbed him.

Elcair seemed almost equally enraptured, but he eventually turned to question Elrond. They spoke for nearly an hour of volcanic mechanisms and of the types of stone it produced (Elcair found a particular affinity for obsidian), and Elcair told Elrond of the many advances he had made in examining sedimentary samples; separating them out and identifying them one bit at a time.

Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, Elrond asked him a personal question. “When did your family come to Valinor?”

It was entirely possible that he had been born in Valinor, but with a Sindarin name like “Elcair,” his family almost certainly had its roots in Middle Earth or Beleriand.

Elcair gave him a strange look, almost meeting his eyes. “Do you not know?”

That was… an odd response. Elrond did not know who he was related to, although perhaps it was a well known family, but Elcair had not mentioned any family name. “Apologies, I do not. I do not know your family name, and your given name only tells me that you are likely Sindarin or Silvan.”

Slowly, carefully, as if explaining a simple concept to a child who should know better, Elcair said, “My mother is Elwing and my father is Eärendil…”

Oh, oh. Of course! Elwing and Eärendil had been very young when they had fled Beleriand; Elrond had always known that. They had been young and in love and had lost the chance to raise their children; it made sense that they would try again.

In a way, Elrond was happy for them. Happy that they had been able to move on with their lives after everything that had happened, everything they had been through. Alongside that, though, an ancient pit of bitterness reopened in his chest at the thought that they had been able to move on from him.

As soon as that feeling bubbled up into his mind, he tried to push it away. It wasn’t fair to them and it wasn’t helpful to him. He had lived well over six-thousand years without them and become a powerful and well-respected man, loved by many. That would not change, regardless of what his parents thought of him.

“So, Celebrían did not tell you?” Elcair asked tentatively. He seemed anxious, worried that he had offended Elrond.

“No- No, she did not.” This whole time, she had known. Known and said nothing! And yet, Elrond could not find it within himself to be angry with her. He had been stubborn in his refusal to speak to his family, he knew, and if she had mentioned a brother, Elrond knew he would have refused to see him as well.

“You… are my brother, then?” Elrond mused.

Elcair nodded, almost shy now. “Yes, and we have a sister between us, Elinn. I thought you knew about her, but since you did not know that you and I were brothers…”

His rambling trailed off as Elrond tried to digest all of the new information. He was an older brother, with two younger siblings. His parents had had two new children after losing their first two. Even if he did reach out to them now, what sort of place would he have in that family? That of a bastard son with no ties but blood?

As if sensing his turmoil, Elcair picked up an oolitic limestone sample and pressed it into Elrond’s palm. It was highly textured, but the ooids themselves were smooth. More than that, its music was soothing like- well, like sediments coalescing in ocean currents. It brought him back to the present.

Staring at his shoes, Elcair asked, “So, since Celebrían did not ask me here at your behest, may I ask- Why have you not reached out to us yet?

Elrond sighed, examining the limestone in his hand. What he wouldn’t give to be an ooid right now; just a tiny ball of calcium floating in the sea. Things would be so much simpler. “I only knew Elwing- our mother - for the first six years of my life, most of which I cannot remember. Our father, I knew for even less time, and I did not know of you and Elinn’s existence until just now. I fear that forcing myself into… your family- I would simply take up space that isn’t there.”

Elcair looked over at him sharply, though Elrond did not meet his gaze. “Do not say that! Nana has been more anxious than I have ever seen her from the moment we got news of your ship. As soon as Atto returned from his sky-voyage at the beginning of last spring, he was much the same. Elinn has been urging Nana constantly to stop waiting for you to reach out and just write first herself because she wants so desperately to meet you! And I-”

He halted before going on, as if admitting some long-kept secret. “I have been wondering what you would be like ever since I first heard your name. For decades- centuries, I have listened at the docks for news and stories of you. I cobbled together an image of what my older brother might be like and, for a very long time, you have been my greatest role model, even though I have never met you.”

A breath of silence passed between them. Elrond could hardly believe that he had played so large a role in the life of someone he had never met. He knew that he was in history books and there were likely people who looked up to him based on their readings, but never so personally. 

Elcair wasn’t finished. “I never even dared to hope that you would share my passion for stone, however much I idolized you. I- There has always been room in our family for you, Elrond.”

Elrond was nearly overcome. He had only just begun to process the fact that he had siblings (siblings! plural!) and this was just too much. So, he pushed his feelings aside for later, focused on the feeling of ooids in his hand, and fell back on learned politeness. 

“I-” he was forced to pause and clear his throat, his voice was clogged with emotion. “I am sorry for not writing sooner.”

Elcair patted his hand, also feeling awkward and off balance after his burst of emotion. “It is no matter now. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

@elrondweek

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 18: Dream

Elros fell asleep. Unlike Men, he was fully aware of this, but unlike Elves, he no longer perceived the warmth of his tent or the camp noises.

He was home, but it was not destroyed. Just empty. No people, no animals, no dust. Silence. 

Vingilot came to the shore—shining but carried by water, not by air—and Earendil left the ship. Even though it was just a dream, the lack of the gem on his forehead filled Elros with relief. 

His father's shape changed like a mirage, now resembling Elros’s own looks, but as a Man. 

“Why do you cry?” asked Earendil-Elros.

“Because I dream of something I cannot have.”

“‘Has been just offered to me’ is quite a peculiar definition of ‘I cannot have’.”

Dreaming Elros turned to the other one and gave him an angry look, but it had no effect. The phantom’s face was still his own, but also not his. And he was smiling. 

“Who are you?” demanded real Elros.

“A dream. Come.”

They entered a cave—the cave. The air still smelled of the sea.

“What do you see?”

“My past. My pain. A dome of stone. Splashing water.”

“What happens to the drops of water?”

Elros shrugged. “They land on the floor and on my shoes, and everywhere.” 

“And then?”

It was a strange dream, and not a very useful one. 

“They evaporate, I suppose.”

“Tell me, is water useless?”

Elros tried to wake up, but it was harder than usual. 

His dream companion—now looking more like a wisp of pink smoke than a person—stepped back. “Please, don't. I apologize for my directness, or maybe for my indirectness, but please, let me get to the point.”

Elros squatted on the ground, one hand in the water. The memories weren't as painful as he'd expected. He looked again at the visitor. “Fine. So what is your point?”

“I need you to make it. This is your dream, after all. So is the water useless?”

It felt like Maglor teaching him science. Boring. Frustrating. Pointless. Still much better than other things he'd brought into Elros’s life. And less complicated.

“Of course not. Water is necessary for life, and it's singing the themes of the Great Music, and seawater isn't good, but it evaporates and leaves the salt on the ground and then it condenses into clean water.”

“And still, stone is much better.” The visitor looked at Elros with a glint in his eyes. Was there a joke somewhere? If there was, he didn't care.

“It's good for building cities, but when you're thirsty…” He shrugged again. 

The visitor nodded. “Exactly. So why do you feel obligated to be a stone?”

Oh. So that's what this whole riddle was about. 

Elros stood up. “Listen, I don't know what I did wrong with falling asleep to end up here, but you're the most stupid dream I've ever had, and I've had many. To be a stone, really? Make it a pun on our names? As if it was just— water has no friends! Nobody to miss it when it goes away. Nobody who had already lost both his parents and then some more people to whom he shouldn't have gotten attached. To whom I shouldn't have gotten attached. I'm not even sure if it's more that I don't want them to grieve one more person, or that I don't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing yet another of Luthien's line dead... I can't. Even if it wasn't for them— I can't do this to Elrond.”

The visitor withstood the whole argument calmly, and bowed. He looked like an elf now, most likely a Sinda, but his hair had a pearl sheen and in his eyes danced clouds of colors. “I apologize. I have—that's not the best point in my life either. I'm usually better at this. Maybe let's go sit somewhere more comfortable?”

“Where?”

“You lead. It's your dream. I probably shouldn't have been so forceful before.” 

A tension that Elros hadn't noticed before loosened, and the dream became more bendy, as they usually were. He imagined them in a sitting room — not a memory, but something safer: a fantasy based on a painting. A bowl of fruit on a table, surrounded by wine glasses. Carved wooden furniture. 

The visitor took a small pear and bit into it. It smelled more lively than in most of the dreams. “You mentioned Lúthien…”

“She was in love. I have no good reason.” Elros looked at the fruit in the bowl. All of them were more detailed than he'd expected. Maybe it wasn't such an unpleasant dream after all. He would have to remember this room, it was a nice place to dream about.

“So, being in love is a good reason. What's a bad reason then?”

Elros shrugged. “It just… feels right. That's not even a reason. Not anything I could explain. What kind of reason is that?”

“So what kind of reason is it?”

“Foolish? Mine? Why are you so stubborn about it? Why am I —or whatever you are, whoever—why would anyone need that?”

The visitor finished his pear and looked at Elros. “I'm not saying that you should choose the fate of Men. Not this for it's own sake. But I'm saying: please, make the choice that your heart leans into. Are those two the same, it's up to you to tell.”

“They are. And yet, I can't. I can't do this to Elrond. To everyone.”

“And can you do to them whatever shall come from you making the wrong choice?”

Outside, rain started falling, and also in the room drops of water fell on Elros’s head and at his cheeks, fell down, and evaporated.

“And what do you know about any of it? Do you know pain? Do you know how it is to love someone whom you hate? To hate someone whom you love? Do you know death?”

The rain turned to hail, then to snow. “I know as much as you, Elros. Which is still too little, I'm afraid. And yet, we have to make choices. Even if they mean learning more of what we wouldn't want to learn. I wish I had more comforting words for you. I wish I could tell you to not be afraid. And yet, I am also in fear, because the world still hangs in balance.”

Elros looked at him, puzzled. “We won the war.”

“We won a war.” The snow stopped falling and melted, but black clouds still hung in the corners of the room, hiding behind shelves and curtains, twirling. He watched them for a while, until his face was dry again.

“My heart tells me to choose the Secondborn. And yet… What shall I tell everyone? How can I explain it?”

“Tell them what you told me. Your heart calls you there.”

“Will they understand?”

The visitor played with an apple for a while, then put it back in the cracked bowl. “I don't know. I hope your brother will—I believe that he will. Earendil almost chose the same, so I think your parents will too. And while the personal feelings of kinslayers are surely an important factor to consider—”

“Are you trying to provoke me to do it out of spite?”

“I'm trying to help you to choose freely.” The visitor smiled. “Well, maybe provoke you a little. I must admit that I'm not entirely displeased with the thought of a certain singer learning that some people actually can make difficult choices. But that's just a small and secondary benefit.

Elros stood up and came to the window. Behind it now was only darkness, pricked with stars. “I know what I should do. I simply don't want to have to handle what everyone does about it.”

The visitor put a hand on Elros's arm. “You can do it. Or at worst you can leave them and go for a walk. That's what I do when I can't handle more stupid people.”

“Fine.” He opened the window. I'll do it. I'll—”

He woke up with tears. Beside him, Elrond was also crying, but when he embraced Elros there was no anger in his touch, only sorrow.

[tanoraqui]

The Rise and Fall of Empires

Chapter 9: The Downfall of Númenor

24 Days Before the Fall of Númenor

The plan had been, wait for Ar-Pharazón and his fleet to get halfway to Aman, then break every Palantir connection between them and anyone else, cueing everyone else to start their coordinated military campaigns, slave rebellions, etc. On the mighty Isle of Númenor itself, they’d been going to stage a smooth coup in favor of Míriel and get everyone not rabidly a King’s Man off the island, before setting off the volcano in their wake and leaving the rest to Ulmo.

No plan, however, survives contact with the enemy. In this case the enemies were fear, ignorance, and several decades—several centuries—of pent-up aggression between the various political factions of the Númenorean Empire.

“I told you I could’ve started a civil war in just a few years,” Annatar said idly, sitting on the plinth that had once hosted the King’s Square Temple statue of Morgoth-as-Fëanor-as-a-Man. 

[keep reading on AO3]

[ieatwormsandtheytasteverygood]

Could Elrond contract prion disease?

HYPOTHETICALLY, if Elrond were to eat the brain of an orc regularly (I did not come up with the idea Do Not Blame Me), could he get prion disease from it??

Would his 37,5% Manx Mannish blood be enough to allow him to get ill, even though elves can't?

Can elves be affected by prions? I mean, it'd be safe for an elf who's only ever eaten other elves to be eaten by an elf, but what if said elf ate a human or a dwarf or a hobbit or an orc? Would the prion just hang out in the Immune To Illness Of The Hröa brain of the elf??? Would it die????

Would the 3,125% Maiarin blood that Elrond has be enough to negate the effects of his Manx Mannish blood? Can the Line of Lúthien get sick????

Is it still cannibalism if you're a different species, even though both parties are sapient? Did the Þindar Sindar eat the Petty-Dwarves? Did Túrin's followers eat Mîm?

JIRT I NEED ANSWERS

I shall update if HoME mentions anything about Peredhel immune systems.