#elrond is so done

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

Lmao imagine if a couple wanted to get married in Lindon or Imladris and saw Elrond and was like “sure why not” and just, asked him to witness their vows in place of any actual maiar or valar.

Like the relationship between the elves in the Valar-Only-Mildly-Care Place and the Valar/Maiar themselves has got to still be stiff since elves are stupidly stubborn about holding grudges, so imagine if a couple just went “fuck the valinor glowsticks, Lord Elrond has been feeding us well and sheltering us for over a century. He’s got some ainur blood anyway.”

So they ask Elrond to be witness and he agrees thinking they just want a lord’s blessing or something and then-

“[Elvish Marriage Vows] we swear in the name of Lord Elrond Peredhel and Eru Illuvatar [More Marriage Vows]”

And at this point Elrond just has to roll with it but he bluescreens later while Erestor and Glorfindel laugh at him (Celebrian and or Gil-Galad too if they’re around)

Bonus points if It becomes a tradition in Imladris/Lindon even though he neutrally suggests a vala instead every time like

Elrond, trying not to get smited as soon as he steps foot into Valinor: hey Lady Yavanna is pretty cool though, right?

Elven Couple, exiled thousands of years ago and still frost-bitten: yes, pity there were no flowers in the Grinding Ice, my Lord. Anyways, would you mind being a witness to our wedding ceremony?”

Elrond starts glowing slightly and never lives it down. He goes to Valinor and people still ask him out of tradition or genuine respect and the Valar just have to put a small tapestry of Elrond as a patron of unions or something so they can claim some sort of control over the situation.

Elrond is mortified, and nobody lets him live it down.

[blahahala]

lotr but elrond just grabs the one ring in rivendell and runs straight to mount doom

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

Glorfindel: I heard you like bad boys.

Erestor:

Glorfindel: Tell him, Elrond.

Elrond, not looking up: He's the worst.

[whorefindel]

this has me in tears yall 😭

[leucisticpuffin]

It's a warm summer's day and Elwing steals a moment from her duties to watch her boys play. As she worries about their future, Elrond's only concern is which of them will end up in the pool first...

For Day 1 of @elrondweek: Childhood and Peace. (Please click to enlarge so you can see all the details properly! I went a bit overboard with the plants and the tiles xD)

Some notes:

Sirion is quite far south in Beleriand, so I imagined it might have a warmer climate and gave them a Mediterranean-ish courtyard garden. The stone swans are Falmari influence.

The little wooden boat was made by Earendil during one of his voyages, and is Elros' favourite toy. While he loves playing make-believe (and splashing other people) Elrond just likes the feeling of the water and the way it ripples when he moves his hand through it.

Elrond's toy seal is made of felt and weighted with a pouch of sand in its belly. He carries it everywhere and can't sleep without it.

[sun-snatcher]

The twins had nightmares often.

Elrond dreamt of an unquenchable fire.

Not the kind that tempered steel and glowed like a light, but the kind that scalded and blistered and burned to the touch. He’d wake up wailing his body was alight, tears in his eyes when he ran for Maedhros’ comforting touch, and would ramble between his weeping about what he’d seen— blinding, searing flames; the smell of ashen flesh and skin.

Elros dreamt of the shores.

Sometimes he was drowned into a black maw by mighty waves of the tide crashing against cliffs, but most of the time he was often gazing into the dimming white eye of a beast, sinking somewhere beneath the abyssal depths of the sea. He never woke up frightened like his brother did, but he always woke up with a grief so profound in his chest it rendered him inconsolable.

And so Maglor took to lullabying them to sleep when he could whenever came nightfall, because they swore his voice seemed the only thing able to calm their dreams into something more restful and peaceable.

(It didn’t always work, though.)

Maedhros and Maglor discerned it early on as the Mannish trait of the Peredhil simply presenting itself in muddled dreams, borne from the horrors of war at too fragile an age; a chimerical hybrid of memories blurring with child-like fantasy.

It will take them a long while later, when the brothers finally stand— one at the foot of a fiery pit, and the other at the heart of the sea— and alas, realise then; the Peredhel twins were terrorised not by their dreams, but by their gift of foresight.

[armenelols]

Idril hearing Ulmo's warning and heading it. Idril building a secret path out of Gondolin, an escape route for the survivors. Idril making sure there would be survivors.

Eärendil, searching for Valinor when so many others have failed, the ban be damned. Eärendil reaching Valinor. Giving up the silmaril — it's just a piece of rock, after all, no matter how pretty it is. When banned from Arda, still managing to show up in time to slay fucking Ancalagon. In some versions, killing Ungoliant. Ungoliant. Guiding the lost as a star of hope.

Elros, whose life had been a mess and who still grabbed it firmly with both hands and didn't let go. Didn't waver. Elros, who knew nothing but war, leading his people to peace; Elros following his father's star and doing his goddamn best to be a good king. Building a realm, preserving lost cultures, starting new ones. The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and Elros made sure to be that to his people.

Elrond, who keeps losing everything, but never loses kindness. Elrond, who is an unbreakable rock in the middle of a wild current, who will always be there, in good times and in bad. Elrond, standing by Gil-galad's side during his reign; Elrond, helping the refugees of Eregion, and every weary traveller who wanders to his home, Elrond making his home a place of rest and healing. Elrond, of whom everyone knows his doors are open, and he is a well of knowledge, and he will share it to make the world a better place.

What I am saying is, getting shit done runs in the family.

[peachblossom-odyssey]

Elrond: “My father turned into a star”

Durin:

Durin: “That’s rough, buddy”

[anetherealpoetess]

if y'all are going to act like petty little bitches, so will i: i'm so grateful i'm not a boring person who blindly follows the belief that sauron's sole desire is power when his love for galadriel is far more interesting and thought-provoking

[dragon-ashes1485]

TROP ep7

I just want to admire how pissed off Elrond looks that the orc got his helmet (I didn't mind, we got to see his floofy hair).

he's so over this shit already, he's done.

I feel like he and Elros did this.

Elros: I got your (random item here)!

Elrond: *that face*

(I'd like to humbly apologise that my mouse is visible on the screen. I do feel like I have ownership of the crappy quality strikes again tag though so if you are looking at my blog you know what to expect😂)

[runawaymun]

Lovers in the garden ❤️

(my ko-fi is open; accepting commissions!)

[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

[noirbriar]

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (Final)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

OOC as always is all on me and canon is super hazy now but ahhh I tried

The final part! Thank you esp @mae-it-be-an-evening-dhros @tamilhobbit @the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur for following this indulgent writing of mine as part of me coping with things and being so kind to my first experiment writing based on Tolkien's works!

Sometimes, its the kindest ones who break the most.

---

6] Elrond Earendilion

Elrond is tired.

Here he sits on Celebrian's favourite bench in their balcony, watching the blazing crimson sun setting over the cliffs of his beloved Imladris. The light flooding the valley with endless red. Like fire, burning the skies, dripping into the water flowing endlessly, the life blood of all in this realm.A swallow chirps and lands on his shoulder, weightlessly and with ease.

Vilya pulses with every breath and each pulse of his fea as Elrond feels the fine well of power entangling around him. The Lord have been feeling the weariness of the ages sinking deep and clinging heavy on his bones.

The dull weight of it all drags on, settling on his spirit, plunging into depths unknown, rolling down and down, pulling into a deep, dark ocean beyond even Ulmo's reach.

Deeper.

And deeper.

And deep-

"-rond? Elrond!"

Elrond gets startled out of his darkening thoughts as the little swallow flutters off and faces the one face that he had always known.

One he and his brother have come to known as warmth and safety since they were but tiny elflings. Against the burning sky, Erestor stands before him, bent low with a gentle hand over his own, the one that bears the weight of power. The older ellon's cold hands cooling unlike the overbearing heat of his own skin. His slate green eyes dark, filled with a wide array of emotions unspoken, swirling in those orbs.

Right now, his Chief Councillor has forgone his usual heavy black robes, except for his elegant brocade robe of office over a tunic and leggings. The gold earcuff and feanorian earring shinning brightly.His twin blades strapped by his side and a crimson red scarf. No longer a mere advisor, Erestor and a select few of his staff have taken up the duty as the last means of defense of the Valley with the absence of Glorfindel and their troops.

Yet to Elrond, before him is not his Councillor and advisor, but one he and his brother have long recognised as another peredhel and claimed as kin of their own.

"Tor."

Elrond shifts and tugs Erestor down to sit beside him, the Lord of Imladris easing away the persona he carries.In his own private quarters, he cares not. The quiet guardian lets him, allowing Elrond to lean his head on his shoulder, his cold hand holding his own.The rare instance where Elrond feels the suppressed fea of the elder, the cold light bringing him familiar comfort. There was always something about the elder's fea he could never explain and he never knew why Erestor did so. Elrond never asked.

"You should not push yourself, Elrond." Erestor whispers.

"This land and many depend on me. As well as those further west. The darkness grows and without the strength of the land, it will be hard on our forces."

"Glorfindel and our warriors are more than capable of defending our borders against the wretched claws of evil and their ilk."Erestor admonishes gently, rubbing mindless circles on the peredhel's hand."You must rest, it will do us no good should you wear yourself thus. Arwen worries too."

"My precious daughter...always so sensitive and thoughtful. Even if I loathe to part from her, she has grown and found her own path. My sons, even if they have not made their choice to sail, they are finding their own place in this world. I cannot help but wonder...where does this leave me?"Elrond whispers his heartache in melancholy, closing his eyes and tries to ease the tension in him.

He is so, so tired. Like a thin piece of string, tattered and worn as time went on.

How he wished he could return to those innocent days! Safe and warm.There were days where he yearned for vague memories of the arms of nana, the hazy and distant gentleness of his adar's hand. Oh! How he longed for Celebrian's infectious joy and light. The ever smiling Celebrimbor's optimism. The ever practical Erenion and his laughter. In all that he had lost, he misses them the most. Dearest Elros by his side as they played with their strong Atto, with Atya singing enthralling songs and wonderous lullabies into the wild breeze.

His heart is so greedy and wants for them all. Fragments of light out of his grasp. Little fragments is all he craves.

"To be honest, when all is over, I had no desire to sail."

Erestor's words throws Elrond out of his maudlin thoughts like a broken glass, bringing everything to a standstill. The air freezes as Elrond's heart sinks, the younger elf turns harshly around as he hears the feanorian's proclamation.

"What?"

"I have long thought I shall fade here. On this very land where my Atar and my Amil have held me and my siblings in their embrace. " Erestor stares at the crimson dusk, "Where it all began, is where I will find my end. The only home I had. Where all my memories are, and have possessed all that I have ever known."

The string breaks.

"You can't!"

Elrond snarls, grabbing Erestor's arms, clinging almost like a desperate man reaching for a distant shore. The son of Earendil and Elwing feels that the abyss have finally caught him in its cold maw, the endless waves of loneliness and loss, regrets and sorrow that he have kept away for so long, now unchained in its fury. He had long known many of the old feanorians and the noldor have thought to remain in Middle Earth, with Imladris as their final Home. However, to hear those words from his longest friend, protector and kin-

The power beneath this land moans painfully with her master's sorrow, clinging to Elrond like a child seeking solace.

"Everyone I have known and love are lost and gone. Forsaken and abandoned! I cannot! I cannot lose you as well, Tor!"

Elrond gives in as he finally wails, wretched and tormented, ages of heartache and desires bursting forth. The remaining one finally starts to crumble under the weight he has borne.

Dear Erestor who watched over him and Elros, and sheltered them after Maedhros and Maglor were gone. The one they have taken as their older sibling. Who had held them in the cold, somber nights in Lindon, with battered bloodied hands and lustrous raven locks shorn from his head. Who mourned with him the death of their beloved Elros, and the fall of his legacy. The one built with him this haven and held his own children with the same gentle hands filled with scars. The one who kept him and his children going as Celebrain's ship sailed.

Elrond has had enough.

"I don't want to lose anyone anymore. Please, Tor. You are all I have left..." was all Elrond could plead with what selfishness he could find in him.

He is a healer, he has seen broken hurts and deep wounds buried in the soul, mending each unspoken pain little by little with what strength he carries.

But who would bear and heal the pain of the healer then?

"Oh, Elrond..."

The old feanorian caresses his face in tender hold, wiping away the tears he have not realised were there from his redden cheeks. Bathed in ephemeral crimson light, the two companions through the ages holds the other quietly.

"Do not weep." Erestor whispers into his ear as he embraces the younger peredhel in sorrow.

"I will not lie, that was my thought for the longest time, to remain in the land where my amil and my siblings have laid to rest before passing into the Halls. I am tired, truth be told. Yet with all that has happened recently... watching you, the young ones, even Bilbo and the Dwarrow and Edain, and all who have came to this haven we have forged...I find myself wondering, if I could find that courage that you all have shown to walk a different path?"

Erestor then turns back towards Arien, watching the crimson setting sun. While Elrond stares up wonder at this Erestor who is still that calm and mighty guardian, yet different all the same. Within his eyes, they seem to hold a different light. A light that he feels in their shared bond of kinship in their fea, a burning ember chasing away the creeping darkness that have grown far and deep away inside.

And Elrond feels.

Things then swiftly happen in immediate succession, like something in the distance shattered and mended. A change in the air as that unseen miasma of dread it lifts as the birds cry. Vilya shudders, the elven ring trembling in resonance, before finally dimming itself into almost nothingness.

The horn of the Valley resounds.

An age ends. Another shall soon begin.

---

The residents of Imladris awaits at the square for the troops returning, bearing the wounded and the lost, but triumphant still with news of the destruction of Sauron and his Ring. Elrond bears his mantle once more with his circlet and heavy robes embroidered with patterns of gliding stars, hollow still but no longer in deep woe.

Vilya remains silent.

Their Lord descends to welcome their armies and the Edain back Home. Arwen remains close by his side, dressed in silver and silk. His daughter, ever empathic and sensitive. Her quiet presence a balm after that release of emotions welled up and sealed in him through the ages, bringing about much relief to his weary heart.

Bilbo Baggins, even with his body growing old and frail now that the final connection as Ringbearer is lost, hobbles slowly beside him in careful steps. The Hobbit probably hopeful for some news of his nephew and the fellowship.

A long welcoming horn sounds and there beyond the bridge, they see Glorfindel, glowing with the light of Aman, leading their victorious warriors and the last of their wounded home. Elrond's heart gladden to see them safe once more. As the Lord of Imladris, Elrond breathes in deeply the refreshing clean air, ready to give a speech to welcome them all home-

Right before he could get a word out, a blur of a shadow darts out, his Chief Councillor leaps elegantly past the many steps and simply crashes straight into his Captain dismounting Asfaloth. His favourite crimson scarf falling and lays forgotten in his wake.

The Golden Lord would have fallen over by the sudden unexpected impact from being pounced upon him if not for his unnatural strength. The Balrog-slayer dropping his helm and swiftly catching the dark haired elf with a hand on his back and another placed almost naturally on his assailant's bottom with no hesitation. The startled warrior's surprised noise also does not hinder Erestor in the slightest as he wraps his arms around the taller ellon and greets him.

Head on with a hard kiss.

Elrond nearly chokes.

The world seems to stop in that instant. Not a soul breathes. Not even as the caravan and wagons of the wounded behind holler at what was on with the hold up from behind. Asfaloth simply snorts in disbelief with a shake of his great head only a horse can, and wisely chooses to trot further away.

Everyone else remains still. Not even willing to move a muscle as the couple parted after a long heated kiss before a stunned audience, heaving with adrenaline and foreheads touching close.Unbothered and unconcerned.The silence is deafening, before someone finally speaks.

"Marry me, Laure." Erestor whispers, breathless.

Glorfindel gasps. His eyes bright with emotions, wild and free. The Hero of Gondolin could only gaze at his partner wordlessly filled with a fierce passion and endearing love.

"Eres? You are certain? You know we do not have to. I care not for oaths or promises or ceremonies, but only you by my side. My fea knows only you, forever and always. I am content!”

"No!"

Erestor's hands clutches into the white cape of their Captain, his eyes fierce with raw determination, their unbridled Tempest.

"No more I shall fear of the unknown. Neither of Oaths nor Doom. Even if I am damned to the Void, even if I must claw my way out of the abyss, I will find my way back to you! It is you, and only you that I will hold till the end of all of Eru's Songs! I want to be one with you meldanya*. I am ready."

If there was a tear from either of them, no one could say for they were so enthralled by the words they share.

“My brave Eres! Have I not told you before? May it be in the light of grace or endless Void, all I care is you as you are. It will never change! If it is what you desire, then let us become one! None will keep you from me, for what use is my poor existence if I cannot keep my heart by my side?" Glorfindel smiles, holding Erestor close with no concern to the travel-worn state he is in. With a lighter, softer peck upon the soft lips of his partner.

“You need not protect me. Just, stay beside me, as I face what is ahead, that is all I shall ask. ” Erestor whispers softly. It was plain for all to see, even with that cool mein, their ever stern Councillor was basking in the raw light of love.

“That I can do.”Glorfindel returns with a soft laugh, eager and proud in their joy.

"I am sorry. I am sorry it took so long."

"Nay, it matters not for we are here at last, and what do you know? I am ready too." Glorfindel then pulls Erestor into a deep embrace.

"Let us be bound, Eres, and never be apart."

"Aye."

Elrond does not know why or how but watching this all unfold before his eyes, his two friends finally answering to those unspoken feelings that they have all long known felt like a refreshing air of relief for himself. The Lord can only give a loud laugh at the incredulous timing in the whirlwind of it all. Like a chapter coming to an end on its own.

Their happiness is so infectious and warm, that it urges the half-elven on with an unexpected impulsiveness as he descends down the steps to meet the couple. His arms reaching out and pulling them into a hug with his dear friends. Which causes the trio of Lords to nearly fall over into an unseaming heap if not for Glorfindel and Erestor pulling Elrond and each other safe on their feet on the solid ground.

"Mellyn nin! Does this mean we can safely deem that you are both together? After so many years, we are to have a wedding in the Valley then?" The Lord of Imladris smiles, feeling lighter than ever.

The couple shares a an uncharacteristically shy look, probably realising their open affections have been on full on display. The two shuffling awkwardly, as Glorfindel pulls back his golden braid and Erestor straightening his robes. Even as their hands remain clasped together through the motions.

"Aye."

"We are."

With that the dam breaks and there are cheers and roars from all around. The felicitations and laughter blooming and loud, even out beyond the gates, voices echoing far across Imladris.

Elrond even spots several bags of coin being passed around. Looks like the age old wagers have ended, one that he was unfortunately unable to participate out of fairness and status. His foresight definitely did not foresee any of this, Elrond can be certain, despite whatever one may believe. There were some hands passing over even to a rather eager Bilbo and...Arwen!? Elrond gives his daughter a incredulous stare of dismay with a raise of his brow, but Arwen simply wiggles the bag and mouths, "Aragon's!"

Right.

"But we will not be having a wedding."

The sounds all come back to a halt, leaving the birds to continue with their delightful song.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Everyone gets startled by the suddden aggressive shout and turns to its unlikely source. The ever polite and dutiful Steward of the House, Head Minstral of the bards, Lindir, stands in utter dismay and fury. A look of disdain upon his face with a hand clutching his robes in great horror. Elrond is rather certain its overly dramatic and very much out of character for the usually placid minstrel.

"No! No! Absolutely no! I have waited for an age for this and I refuse to accept-Its not how things are done! I made plans! I drafted songs! I will be vindicated! I WILL SEE A WEDDING!" Lindir declares with a glorious wave of his sleeves. Some of the household staff can be seen nodding in agreement.

Alright, he stands corrected with further observation. The little sleeve sweep was so much that he is reminded of Atya. Lindir certainly has enough flair to match with the Noldor he admires.

The couple can only simply blink blankly in response.

"But, we do not have the resources allocated for it, Lindir. Besides, we are short on time, we must prepare for our Arwen's wedding and for our House to journey forth to Gondor. There is also our wounded and our dead to care for, either way, it is not feasible at all." Their ever calculating and planning Councillor explains calmly.

"I politely disagree, my Lord Erestor."

Everyone now turns to Saelbeth who is the one to interrupt his mentor with a bow. His hands tucked in his sleeves as he steps forward from the group of councillors gathered.

"We not only have an abundance of resources stored, our staff and soldiers are more than capable and equipped to run autonomously. In fact, much of the preparations have already begun. Our household is more than proficient to handling the arrangements should our Lords be amendable in our suggestion."

Erestor narrows his sharp eyes at his protege, who is undaunted by the fierce look. As if the feanorian did not expect the efficiency he has implemented in this House to choose now of all times to work against him of all things.

Glorfindel gives a slight cough which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"We are also, able to oversee the duties of our troops as needed, if necessary." Deputies Laica and Thandor concurred from behind without prompt.

Which only earns them a careful glance from their Commander, one that the soldiers have chosen to disregard. Glorfindel rolls his eyes with an unbelivable shake of his head, muttering something along the lines of 'insubordination'.

"To be honest, Eres and I, we have both desired to only be wed simply by bonding. For our kin and friends here in our beloved home to recognise it, is more than enough." Their Captain elaborates, although this answer just seem to infuriate the usually calm minstrel even more, that the sindar is made speechless as he tries to breathe with his staff supporting him behind.

Elrond is a little guilty to find the whole situation a tad comical in any other circumstances.

"You will both not grant me the chance to witness an elven Wedding in my Home before I leave?"

They all turn around and come face to face with his daughter. Their beloved princess, their Evenstar, reaching out to hold their hands in hers. She gazes at her mentors and guardians with those gentle eyes, glimmering and full of hope under the golden rays of a new age of peace.

"Arwen-" Erestor began but Arwen urges him to listen with a shake of her head.

"Uncle Erestor, Uncle Glorfindel. Long have I wished to see you joined and blessed in ceremony. Will you not grant me this? Please?"

With that, Elrond can see the couple's resolve fall. Which was not surprising. For the two loved his daughter as though his children were their own since they were born. Elrond remembers the nights he and Celebrian handed his children to the two, watching them care for the young little elflings with so much care and selfless love.

Although that little spark in Arwen eyes is a little too obvious. Elrond gives his daughter an exasperated but fond look for that. It is somewhat reassuring to know his children all have not lost all of their playful innocence after all they have experienced in life and will carry them forth in what lies ahead.

Erestor manages to resist for a good while before giving a resigned sigh. He shares a knowing look with Glorfindel who returned with a wistful shrug.

"We can compromise, I suppose. Who needs tradition anyway in our haven, a Home for all walks of life?"

And compromise they did.

After mourning for the ones that have passed and comfoting those who grieved, the rest of Imladris sang for all, for those who cry and those who are to heal, and for everlasting peace.

Until the voices cease and raises once more in the flurry of excitement and chaos. The whole of Imladris prepares for the journey to Gondor and Arwen's wedding. Here in Imladris, where all of the elves from every clan have settled and called home for more than an age all prepare in their strange mix of elven customs hashed together in celebration.

On the night before their departure and their supposed wedding ceremony, Glorfindel and Erestor disappears, while Imladris makes merry in the name of the married couple.

The duo only emerges once more at the break of dawn, with Arien's greeting upon them. Glorfindel and Erestor appear, walking down the path from the sea of beech trees serenely, dressed in beautiful robes that Elrond has vaguely remembered from years long ago on one autumn eve. Their hair braided in a mix of noldor and vanyar patterns. They bear no wedding rings, but upon their brow, rests the circlet of their mate, with golden flowers shining against raven dark hair, and an elaborate twisting weaves gleaming upon glowing gold locks. It was plain for all to see, the marriage bond is complete and proud.

They stand before The Lord of Imladris and Arwen by his side, Lindir standing nearby bearing the ceremonial water from the Bruinen with almost the entirety of the Last Homely House welcoming the newly bonded Lords back with flowers. With bended knee, they greeted him and presented each other as their rightfully bonded mate, awaiting for his blessing. One that Elrond is more than eager to give, as he holds their warm hands in his.

Warm?

Under all that happiness, Elrond suddenly senses a familiar light in Erestor as well. Elrond feels, and is surprised to find Erestor's fea dancing unbound, like a little ember on a quiet eve. With Glorfindel's powerful light mingling through like blooming vines, caressing across the shared connection. He simply cannot put a finger to no matter how he tried. Although he is unable to give much thought to it with most of his House eager to approach and congratulate the newly wedded couple until the time comes that they must leave for the long journey to Arwen's future.

Elrond watches it all, as he had done through the ages. A sense of acceptance settles within him as he urges his mount on, taking the first step out of Imladris with his daughter and friends by his side, and the elves of Imladris following behind.

Elrond turns to the boundless skies beyond.

Everyone is finding their own path, its probably time he walks down his own as well.

---

Flags flutter in the wind. Sails are prepared, and the ships are ready. Elrond observes as everyone else bid farewell to friends and kin. He has already made his goodbyes to his children but as a father, it is still difficult to part with them, forever his and Celebrian's treasured little ones. Bilbo and Frodo are huddling with their kin while Galadriel and Olorin speak with Cirdan in quiet voices.

It is hard to comprehend that he himself is finally leaving these shores for some place he has only heard and never seen. May it be from tales in the books or words of others. The unknown seems so difficult to grasp now that he is facing it.

"Elrond."

Elrond turns and sees Erestor and Glorfindel approaching, probably done with overseeing things.

"Tor." Elrond indulges a childish whim, greeting his advisor the nickname out in the open. Before he is pulled into a warm embrace by his old companion.

"Be safe. Be happy."

"I will."

A press of their foreheads, the two part, before Glorfindel hugs Elrond as well.The warrior's arms folding over his form, strong yet gentle. Oh Glorfindel! Fair and selfless, who protected him and his family since the days of old, always cheerful and supportive. The defender of Imladris who sang so beautifully and made the flowers dance. Who also have the terrible habit of enabling little elflings with too much sugar and making him laugh.

He will miss them both dearly. His precious friends who have walked by his side.

"Send my regards to Celebrian and everyone there, alright?"

"Are you both sure you are staying?" Elrond asks once more, just to be sure.

Now that Glorfindel's duty is done, he is to return to Valinor. Erestor, now his husband and mate meant that he too, will sail with his beloved. Yet, the couple has elected to remain in Middle Earth and Imladris for sometime yet.

"Someone has to watch over Elladan and Elrohir. As well as those who seek to sail in the coming years, who will need guidance as they pass through the Last Homely House. Celeborn alone would not be possible!" Glorfindel remarks lightly in jest.

"It would not be long." Erestor reassures.

A bell sounds, and Cirdan calls for those looking to sail to finally board the ship. In that moment, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Elrond like a skipping pebble finally falling into the water.

He looks back at his friends, who returns with an encouraging nod and a wave.With a deep breath, Elrond steps forward and onwards.

As everyone boards, Elrond notices Galadriel turning pointedly towards Erestor without a word. Who simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement to the Lady while Glorfindel keeps a hand proudly on his mate's waist. Galadriel gives a cryptic nod in return, and turns to board the ship.

As the hobbits follow along with Olorin, Erestor suddenly strides up, calling for Bilbo. The old hobbit and his nephew turns back towards the feanorian in wonder. It is then, Elrond sees Erestor removing his treasured earring bearing the feanorian star, bending down and handing it carefully into Bilbo's thin hands.

"I do not know what good this may do, but I hope it will aid you in what you seek in some way."

"And... should anyone ask?"

Erestor and Bilbo share a long moment in silence, before the old hobbit grips onto the gift with a new found strength in his old hands with grateful acceptance. Olorin watches on, curious and full of mirth, but wisely chooses not interfere as they move on.

The anchors are pulled. The wind picks up and the gulls sing an ode to bid them farewell.

Farewell to Middle Earth! Farewell to everything and all! As the Eldar and the ringbearers leave behind all they have known and onwards into another realm, into another journey unknown. The breeze grows strong and the waves rushes, pushing them on and into the light-

"Elrond!"

The Peredhel turns back and sees Erestor running upon the docks, robes in hand and shouting towards the ocean with little care for his usual decorum. Glorfindel following close behind, waving brightly and so enthusiastically, almost like a maniac should one stumble upon the sight.

"Go! My kin! We will be just right behind!"

"The journey will be awhile! Do not miss us! It will not be long and you shall have company to keep you busy, dear Elrond!"

Elrond blinks back a tear at his silly friends and laughs.

---

---

---

There was only so much one can do out in the vast and endless sea in close quarters with many others. However, Elrond has found comfort watching the stars and his Adar sail across the night skies, wondering in the quiet of his mind.

When the shores of the West are finally sighted, many are excited, though for a break in endless voyage or beauty of it, Elrond could not be certain. As they all clamouring and crowding on the bow for a glimpse of the blessed realm.

Yet the unexpected always happen when one least expects it.

With a loud cry resounding into the air breaking the peace, everyone on the ship are soon startled out of their watchful gaze of the their eternal home. Elrond jumps up, sprinting to the bottom of the deck to the storage where lies its source. Where a pale Frodo stares incredulously at an open box.

Galadriel arrives as well and they share a questioning look, leaving Olorin to quickly tend to the startled hobbit on the floor of the ship. Bilbo slowly joins in, offering a pat of comfort to his kin, though the old adventurer seems oddly calm by the chaos. Sounds of movement from the opened box increase with intensity, each rustling and rattling growing louder much like Elrond's own heartbeat. There is no foulness or evil in the air, but age old instincts has them on edge all the same.

With careful steps, Elrond approaches the crate first with Galadriel following close behind.

Cautiously, they all peer inside.

After all these years and in endless joys and unending sorrow, the half elven finds finally feels that burden upon him lifting, a light of hope and his being healing at long last. With quiet tears and a sob of delight, Elrond is finally able to smile again, full and free, as he dives in to embrace the beginnings of healing as his heart soared.

"Atya!"

---

*Quenya: my beloved

A/N: I probably could have polished things more but at this point, I think I shall leave it as it is. A rather odd final part I think but I tried? Thank you all for taking the time to read and comment and reblog, you all made my day with each one!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

In honor of my being welcomed by the horse people I ask you this question that lies at the center of our intersecting interests: does Elrond speak Rohanese/Rohirric, and if so how did he learn? (I do not think there is a canon answer? So your headcanon. I think he does not, a rare linguistic blind spot for this lore master)

Ooh, interesting question! I love to speculate! ♥️ But also, my Elrond lore isn’t super deep (though I am a devoted fan of your Dr. Peredhel, I am but a child in comparison to what people like you know about him!), so please correct me if you think I go astray anywhere.

I think you’re right that Elrond doesn’t know Rohirric as it’s spoken by the Rohirrim. Hardly anyone outside of Rohan seems to know it, and there obviously aren’t any books that he could have acquired for his famous library. There’s also no evidence that there was contact between Rivendell and Rohan in any of the years of Rohan’s existence that would have put a native Rohirric speaker in Elrond’s orbit. The only link there is would have been indirect, and that’s Aragorn. He knows Rohirric and he knows Elrond. But I strongly doubt Aragorn was using his precious time during visits back home to teach Elrond a language he didn’t really have a pressing need for — Elrond isn’t dealing with Rohan and, if he ever had to, the Rohirrim all know the Common Speech anyway (and some of their leaders even speak Sindarin!).

There IS a chance Elrond had heard an older, more archaic version of Rohirric based on contact with ancestors of the Rohirrim or related communities. That’s all speculation, of course, but Elrond did spend time in Rhovanion for the War of the Last Alliance, and that was the home of the Northmen who would become the Éothéod and eventually the Rohirrim. So it’s possible he heard some of their language then? Rohirric is also related in some respects to the languages of the Men of Dale and Esgaroth and the traditional tongue of the hobbits before they wholesale adopted the Common Speech. So if Elrond ever dealt with those communities over the ages, he might have picked up something that would have at least had some commonalities with Rohirric (just as Merry was surprised to discover that he could recognize some Rohirric words because they were related to old, archaic hobbit terms).

So, with that being said, I think my personal HC would be that Elrond knows some random words and phrases that he learned over the years in an older language that’s ancestrally related to Rohirric and might sound vaguely familiar/intelligible to a modern Rohirric speaker, but he couldn’t have a conversation in Rohirric with a Rohirrim without Aragorn to translate. And that was probably fine with him, because he had no practical need for it.

But, once he leaves Middle Earth at the start of the Fourth Age, now he’s got all the time in the world and no burdens of leadership to distract him. Now can pursue languages just for the pure joy of learning (he is that kind of nerd, said with all due affection). So maybe then he got Oromë to teach him some (Béma himself absolutely knows how to understand the language of his people!) once he got back to Valinor?

Plausible maybe? Certainly fun to think about! (I am also that kind of nerd!) And of course, anyone with the more substantive Elrond knowledge, please feel free to let me know where I’ve gone wrong!

[sesamenom]

Ar-Pharazon from the Reverse Gondolin AU and as Witch-King of Numenor - thanks to @who-needs-words for helping develop this idea!

[aran-morinorea]

I’m crazy about a major diplomatic incident. Also, I hope you are doing ok! Sleep studies usually aren’t fun

This took a Hot Minute due to. It Is Finals Week but here you go!

“Just disappearing like that, I have some words for him.”

Celebrimbor turns as he steps onto a landing with a single little door. His face, looking down at Elrond, is flat and uncompromising. “I realize that he probably deserves worse than words from you, but our uncle has had several months of very fragile recovery and I won’t have his health, physical or otherwise, relapse. Are you a danger to him?”