#ever after high ost | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ericityyy · 17 days ago

Note

Hiii I was wondering if you could do a choi seung hyun x reader where the reader is also in a k-pop group and they do a callab together and they slowly fall for eachother? Sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐬

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? (𝘈𝘉𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘜𝘛𝘌𝘓𝘠 𝘕𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎)

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘐𝘥𝘰𝘭 𝘹 𝘐𝘥𝘰𝘭

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1525

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Over the years, putting two idols together and creating what some people call a “ship” has become normal in the K-pop industry and its fandom. During the second generation of idols, two particular groups reigned supreme, known as the kings and queens of K-pop then—and even now.

BigBang, the kings, and 2NE1, the queens, each had talented and well-known members. It was the peak of YG Entertainment when these two groups released a song or an album. And due to being in the same company, shipping was unavoidable. T.O.P and Y/N can attest to that.

With every interaction, fans always pointed out how the two looked at each other, how they behaved around one another, how they smiled when the other person was mentioned—everything and anything that related T.O.P to Y/N and vice versa was always watched closely. In times like this, what do fans need? A good collaboration between the biggest, unsinkable ship of the century, as one fan dubbed them during a BigBang interview on a variety show.

“So, what do you both say?” Yang Hyun-Suk, famously known as YG, asked the two idols before him. His usual cool demeanor was evident, his arms crossed as he waited for their reply. “It’s a simple collaboration song for an upcoming hit series, and the music directors specifically asked for both of you. They’d even give you the opportunity to help in the composing aspect, knowing that you are both capable of doing so, right?”

T.O.P looked at Y/N for a moment, her face exhibiting a thoughtful look. His heart started to drum in his ribcage. This was a huge opportunity for him to spend time with her, of course he would take it. “I’d be alright with taking the job, only if Y/N holds the same sentiment.” He tried to act calm and composed, but his mind was repeating, 'Please accept, please accept, please accept.'

His prayers were answered when Y/N smiled up at him. “I would love to. It would be a fun experience.” T.O.P mirrored her look with a smile of his own. YG looked between the two with one of his eyebrows raised, a noticeable smirk appearing on his face.

“Great! That’s settled then. I’ll let them know of your response.” YG stood up from his couch facing them and approached his office chair to face his computer.

T.O.P and Y/N hastily stood up after him, their hands politely placed in front of them. “Sir, if I may ask,” the latter interjected through the sounds of keyboard clicking, “What is the series we’ll be doing an OST for?”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

After eagerly leaving YG’s office, they immersed themselves in planning and discussing the possible feel of the song. They knew that this collaboration would hold high expectations from their fans, who had been requesting it ever since they first saw the two idols interact during their debut days. Meeting with the music directors, composers, and producers of the song, they carved out time for late-night studio sessions, leaving others amazed by their commitment despite their tight schedules.

It wasn’t a surprise when “rumors” of their collaboration sparked the internet, trending for days.

—

Koreaboo

—

[TRENDING] BigBang’s T.O.P And 2NE1’s Y/N Are Rumored To Collab In Upcoming Series “Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo”

Username 1: I JUST KNOW THIS IS GONNA BE HUGE!!! THE WAIT WAS ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT

Username 2: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Username 3: EVERYBODY CALM DOWN! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!

Username 4: WHAT THE FUCKKKK?!?! THE CAST?!?! THE OST SINGERS?!?! I JUST KNOW THIS DRAMA IS GONNA BE ON MY TOP LIST (pun intended)

—

Reading the comments, the two laughed to make up for their sleepless nights. “I love how excited they are; it just makes me more determined to do our best for them,” Y/N said fondly, looking at her phone, her expression failing to hide her soft spot for their supporters. T.O.P hummed in response, feeling exactly the same way.

He flinched when Y/N harshly slapped both her cheeks. “Let’s do this!” Her face looked determined as ever. It made him more fond of her, especially after the few days they had spent navigating the logistics and artistry of their vision for the song. The music directors gave them a beat, a melody, and some unfinished lyrics for the chorus. They trusted the two to make the music together and to help them in every chance they had.

There was never a dull moment between them. T.O.P softly rubbed Y/N’s cheeks with his thumbs, watching as they reddened from the impact. “Don’t do that again. You can rest if you want, but don’t hurt yourself, idiot.” He flicked her forehead lightly.

Y/N deadpanned at him. “Saying that and flicking me on the forehead nullifies your point.” He just laughed in response. ‘Never a dull moment,’ he thought as he felt his heart race at their proximity.

Y/N opened the notebook given to them for ideas and writing lyrics. She hummed in tune to the lyrics with T.O.P looking over her shoulder, adding some lyrics for his own parts as well. After some time passed, Y/N felt a weight on her shoulder, shocking her. She looked and only saw dark, messy hair. Y/N smiled, patting his head, making T.O.P bury his face more into the crook of her neck. She hesitated at first but then leaned her head on his, not noticing the smile that grew on the rapper’s face.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

The shooting of the music video for the OST was simple, with the setting just in the recording studio. The two idols were side by side, singing the song. The director's main instruction was to be themselves and have fun with the song they had played such a major role in creating.

“You ready?” T.O.P asked Y/N as they both put on their headphones, the cameraman ready to capture every moment.

“I’m excited for this; it’s the first time we’re going to sing the song as a whole.” Y/N held T.O.P’s hand for a moment. “I’m proud of us, oppa.” Although he managed to maintain a cool demeanor, he was nervous that his hand might be sweaty, revealing his frantic thoughts.

The director pushed the talkback button. “You guys ready? Remember, this is to give the fans a perspective of your finished song, so just be yourselves throughout the recording. Sounds good?” The two idols nodded. “Yes.”

As the music started playing, Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.

“니 눈앞에 왔잖아 내가 여기 있잖아

너의 입술로 말을 해줘 say yes, say yes”

(I'm in front of you, I'm right here

Tell me with your lips, say yes, say yes)

The two of them looked at each other with endearing smiles as the world around them disappeared, and it was just the two of them enjoying the song. With their group, even in their solo careers, they rarely did types of music that were mellow, romantic, or light. Their music often had a touch of hip hop, so creating this song was a challenge for them, but they were definitely proud of the outcome.

“...love is true.” As Y/N finished her part, it was T.O.P’s turn to lean toward the microphone.

“간지럽게만 느껴지던 눈 빛이

이제는 익숙 하단듯이 웃음 짓지”

(Your eyes that only tickled me

Now make me smile as if I'm used to it)

T.O.P held Y/N’s hand and raised it in front of the camera, making the girl quietly laugh and lightly smack his arm. All the while, the rapper continued his verse.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

After the release of the series, the OST, the music video, the groups’ fandom gobbled everything up like they never ate for weeks.

—

YouTube

—

[MV] T.O.P & Y/N – Say Yes | 달의 연인 - 보보경심 려 OST

Username 5: MY PARENTS ACKKKK!!! WE NEED THIS LIVE ASAP!!! To those who agree, say “I”

↳ Username 7: I

↳ Username 8: I

– see 800 replies –

Username 6: can you all just see how smitten he is with her :(( our tabi is growing up and falling in love

↳ Username 9: “And if he falls in love tonight... It can be assumed…”

↳ Username 10: can somebody tag me if someone makes an edit of them with “can you feel the love tonight?” lion king style

↳ Username 11: @/username10 no

– see 5 replies –

Username 12: i love how he’s so comfortable with her and is the one initiating contact like T^T

↳ Username 13: I thought I was the only one who noticed that lol they’re so sweet istg

Username 14: PETITION FOR THEM TO HAVE THEIR OWN KDRAMA

1k likes

Username 15: But can someone look at how in love she is with him too, i swear JUST SAY YOU’RE TOGETHER

Username 16: no cause if someone looks at me the way she looks at Choi Seung-Hyun I would marry that girl on the spot

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

this is my first choi seung-hyun (t.o.p) imagine! i really hope yall enjoyed this one cause i would keep writing for that man. he deserves the world fr! keep supporting him 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️ also i might do a part 2 on this depends if you all want it 👀

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

none

#x reader #imagines #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader #one shot #request #kpop #bigbang #fem reader #bigbang imagine #kpop kmagine

384 notes · View notes

marshmellin · 2 months ago

Text

Star and Stone, Ch. 7 | Where the Shadows Are 🔥

Silence did not seem to be what he sought. His voice was low. Eager. Hungry. “Would you—”

“If you start talking to me instead of touching me, I will muster whatever strength the Valar have left me with and scream.”

He blinked in momentary surprise, the second-guesses seeming to die on his tongue. But his eyes narrowed as he hiked one of her legs to his side, her skirt falling into a pool against her waist.

-> COMPLETE! F FOR FIX IT: Explicit for rare smut (🔥) between consenting partners. All other content is Mature for language and canon-typical descriptions of angst/violence. Gil-galad x female OC Sindarin elf, Occurs between the Fall of Ost-in-Edhel in Eregion and the Battle of the Last Alliance. Contains references to other Tolkien lore and the Silmarillion with author notes for full explanations.

Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I try to be as canon-compliant as possible except for the whole 'keeping Gil-galad alive part.' No beta, we die like Mirdania.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

🔥 Explicit content under the cut. S for Smut at the END of the chapter. We made it, crew!🔥

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

You are here -> Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

The glow of the hearth was subdued, the flicker of firelight barely reaching the tall shelves and scrolls that lined the walls of Gil-galad’s study. Elaniel stepped inside, her footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath her boots. Gil-galad looked up from his desk, his expression softening as his gaze met hers.

“Elaniel, you did not need to visit so late,” he said, rising. His voice carried a weariness that he could not hide. He was still in his formal robes, draped in layers of gold brocade, crown still pinned into place but slightly askew.

Eyes flicking over him quickly, she noticed several things at once:

He’s still wearing full robes, so he has been in council with ambassadors all day. And likely has not ceased working since morning. That is a tall stack of paperwork. If war is so messy, why is there so much documentation? I doubt he’s had water, much less eaten. He’s broken, mmm, looks like two quills. How long has that crown been digging into his head? It is smaller than what he used to wear, yes, but it still must hurt.

Valar, he is tired.

Elaniel voiced none of these thoughts and instead simply said, “You sent a note for me. I assumed it was important.” Moving toward him, she unpinned her cloak and placed it over the chair that had become hers in front of the fireplace.

“It is important,” he admitted. “But it is not urgent. I didn’t mean to take your time tonight. I’ve heard you’ve been on worksite inspections all day.” He was clasping his hands in front of him, the fingers of one hand flexing tightly around his other hand. A tell of his, she had learned. Something he only did when he was anxious or uncertain.

“And you’ve been here,” she countered gently. “Shall we both agree to share the blame for overworking?”

Gil-galad crossed the room to join her, wrapping his arms gently around her in welcome. She popped up on her toes to kiss him hello, before walking toward the sideboard to pour two glasses of water.

Handing one to Gil-galad to drink, she surveyed the room.

“How has your week been,” she asked cautiously, taking in the scattered scrolls and books on every surface and chair.

Her drafting table seemed to be the only surface he had left untouched, which warmed her heart but did nothing to stop the alarm bells ringing in her mind. Typically, the clutter in their shared space was not his but hers; he was not a messy person by nature.

The study looked like a windstorm had passed through.

An almost embarrassed chuckle escaped him as he allowed his shoulders to slump. “It has been…difficult.”

“Ah, is your crown part of the important-but-not-urgent conversation you’d like to have?” she asked innocently, reaching out to brush a strand of hair over his ear. “Or can we proceed this evening without it? I find you are tall enough without the enchantment...”

Gil-galad’s brow furrowed and he looked up as though he could see the crown through his forehead. “I didn’t realize I was still wearing it,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” she hummed in reply, moving his shoulders to spin him around. He obeyed and tilted his head back so she could remove the crown and the two golden pins that held it in place. Setting it carefully on the desk, she reached up again to rake her fingers through his hair, nails gently scraping his scalp as she worked through a few small tangles. He sighed in gratitude before turning to face her again.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile — a spark of light through the weariness he showed.

“Of course,” she smiled in return. “I doubt it’s the most comfortable thing to wear.” He shook his head gently, looking over his shoulder toward the desk where the crown now sat. And his paperwork. He started to open his mouth, but she had learned his timing by now.

“The robe and cloak combination has to be heavy, too, certainly,” she prompted, tapping her nails against the intricate chest piece he wore. “How does this work? I can secure anything you’d like to stone or iron but this is witchcraft to me.”

Gil-galad’s focus shifted back and he paused from the change in topic. “Oh,” he murmured, lifting up a heavy clasp over his shoulder to show her. “It fastens here—“

“Ah!” She said in delight as she mimicked the motion over his other shoulder. The neck piece and cape fell to the floor in a heap behind him. The thud they made indicated the weight was not insignificant.

A small laugh as Gil-galad looked down at the velvet puddled at his feet. “It is more comfortable without it.”

Murmuring in agreement, Elaniel moved closer. “What about this?” she asked innocently, fingers skimming the edge of an elaborate wrapped belt around his waist. “I am uncomfortable just looking at it. This is why your posture is so straight, you could not bend if you wished.”

Can he even take this off without help?

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow as his hands settled around her hips, but he did nothing to stop her. She dug at the wrap around his waist. His face showed nothing of his thoughts, but something familiar glinted in his warm brown eyes. “One might think you are attempting to undress me, Elaniel.”

“One might be right,” she replied with a laugh and another playful tug at the intricately wrapped belt, pulling him so close their bodies aligned. “But not for the reason you hope. This is a ridiculous amount of clothing to drag around at moonrise. Ready yourself for sleep. Go,” Elaniel pushed again at his chest, moving him toward the door to his chambers.

He sighed and stood still, rendering her efforts to push him useless.

It’s like shoving a wall. I am not weak. Why is he so solid?

She didn’t stop trying, though, kneading her hands against him and muttering “go, go,” over and over. Rich laughter echoed through the room, and Gil-galad’s face finally blossomed with the joy she had worked so hard for.

“I have many more responsibilities to see to tonight before I prepare for sleep. Sit with me for a moment, instead?” he offered as a compromise. Gil-galad moved toward a low couch across from the hearth, gesturing for her to join him.

She pretended to consider, waving her hand at him. “Belt…wrap…painful thing off.”

A heavy sigh. “Belt off,” he agreed, deftly — and she could not for the life of her see how he did it so quickly — unwrapping the intricate belt to let it fall to the floor. He now remained in a much lighter outfit; a simple embroidered robe. He gave a muted sigh of relief and she wondered if he realized how much his crown and robes weighed him down.

They sat in silence, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as the crackle of the fire filled the room.

“I’ve thought about your recommendations for the latest worksite placement,” Gil-galad murmured after a long pause, his voice still laced with exhaustion.

Elaniel reached out, her hand resting on his leg. “There is nothing you could suggest tonight that I can change by morning. The work will wait.” She gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Also, I do not allow meddlers to comment on my worksites.”

He leaned back against the cushions, fatigue etched into his features despite the smile on his face. “I am a meddler, now? Quite the downgrade.”

“Either take up your apprentice seat on the stonemasons council or stay off my worksites. If you can’t shape stone, wood or iron, you’re a meddler,” she ended, her tone light.

Shifting slowly, he laid his head in her lap with a sigh, his long legs dangling off the other end of the sofa in an undignified — but endearing — way. Eyes slipping closed, he breathed out a laugh. “I could fare decently as a mason, given the education you’ve provided. Then again, I have heard the pay is terrible.”

Playing with the collar of his robe, she let her fingers graze his jaw. “Ah, but fear not! For I would not hire you. You don’t really have a craftsman’s build…”

Gil-galad opened one eye to peer up from her lap, a frown on his face.

Her voice turned to honey, a tone she only used for him. “You have the build of a warrior-king, morconinya. Much different, of course,” she smiled. “Masonry would be a complete waste of your strength. And your wardrobe.”

He gave an exaggerated nod, satisfied with her answer.

Elaniel threaded her fingers through his hair. The silky strands caught the firelight. “You should rest,” she said eventually, her voice barely a whisper.

“I am resting,” he murmured, his eyes still closed. He rolled his shoulders, settling against her. “You are far more comfortable than my chair.”

She laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through her fingers, watching the rise and fall of his breathing. Slowly, she stopped running her fingers through his hair, instead contenting herself with smoothing a few dark strands across her lap, mindful not to jostle him. He shifted slightly, his head falling towards her as sleep claimed him.

As she sat there, watching over him, she knew this was what she wanted for the rest of her long life — this quiet companionship, this space to be vulnerable. To lay down their burdens. The world outside might become darker, but here, in this room, none of it mattered. She would do everything she could to protect this future, for both of them.

She would sit up all night, watching over him, if it meant he could rest for one moment longer.

The council chamber hummed with anticipation as Elaniel took her seat at the large stone table, its surface strewn with maps and sketches. The air carried the familiar tang of ink and parchment, mingling with the crispness of Lindon’s sea breeze filtering through high windows. At the head of the table sat Gil-galad, his gaze steady.

Elrond sat to his right, his composed demeanor tinged with curiosity. Halion and Arminas were already discussing…well, who knows what, but there was a lot of gesturing involved. Ristarion leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, radiating barely concealed disapproval.

Gil-galad’s voice broke the murmur of conversation. “We are here to determine the leadership and allocation of resources for the White Towers at Emyn Beraid and Amon Sûl’s fortifications. Both locations, each housing a palantír, will serve as guardians of communication across Middle-earth and a symbol of unity between Elves and Men.”

Elaniel studied the intricate map before her, noting the placement of the towers along the Gulf of Lhûn. Her focus sharpened as she imagined the soaring spires overlooking the sea. Beautiful. Majestic.

Elrond nodded thoughtfully. “Amon Sûl is strategically vital. But its current structure is vulnerable. It was built centuries ago for signaling, not to withstand a siege.”

“Elendil suggests repurposing it entirely,” Gil-galad continued. “Reinforced walls, stone foundations, a keep at its heart. He even proposes diverting masons from Annúminas.”

Elaniel tilted her head, her expression contemplative. “The stones of Amon Sûl are sturdy but uneven. If we begin reinforcing without understanding their weaknesses, the weight of additional structures could cause fractures.”

Gil-galad glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. “You’ve studied its foundation?”

She nodded. “When I first arrived in Lindon to determine fortification sites. Amon Sûl’s base is old—crafted by those who prioritized speed over longevity. It has weathered.”

“We just carved Imladris from bare rock,” Halion added thoughtfully. “We can build Amon Sûl. Clear lines of sight, an opportunity to show strength. The fortifications are the kind of work my team is best equipped for. Master Elaniel, do you object?”

Elaniel nodded in agreement. “I agree. My team is more accustomed to watchtower construction than open fortification. With your leave, Master Halion, my teams will develop plans for the White Towers.”

“Aye,” Halion nodded and they both turned to Gil-galad, who inclined his head in approval. Halion continued, “we could map for structural weaknesses and propose solutions for Amon Sûl within the week. It would delay our start, but we will save resources.”

Gil-galad’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Elendil will not like delays, but he is pragmatic. We will begin immediately.”

As the meeting wore on, Elrond brought up logistical concerns. “If we divert masons from Annúminas, what is to become of their fortification projects?”

Gil-galad nodded, his fingers tracing the map. “We cannot strip one city to bolster another. I will write to Elendil to suggest using local labor where possible. Arnor has skilled workers, even if they lack the training of our craftsmen.”

Elaniel leaned forward. “With respect, local workers could learn from Lindon’s masons. It could strengthen ties between Arnor and Lindon.”

Elrond glanced at her and nodded quickly. “An exchange of skills and culture is also a gesture of trust.”

Gil-galad considered this, his expression thoughtful. “Elendil often speaks of fostering bonds between his people and ours, to correct the rift between us. Master Halion, your thoughts?”

Halion held back a sigh – he does not like visitors on his worksites, either – but nodded. “It would be valuable to train them, for us both.”

Ristarion leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “A moment, please,“ he called out, his tone sharp.

The room fell silent, save for the faint creak of Halion shifting his stance. Elaniel fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Yes, heconna? We are all eager to hear your uninformed opinion on the matter.

Ristarion leaned forward, his voice gaining a pointed edge. “So I am sure I understand: we are discussing how to best divide our precious resources to create two new fortifications — Emyn Beriad and Amon Sûl — to help this…Man and his sons house their palantirí?”

Has he been asleep or….

“Yes,” Gil-galad replied evenly.

“And these seven palantirí, powerful artifacts vital to communication during this time of war, are all to remain entrusted to Men?”

Gil-galad stared at Ristarion. “The seeing-stones belong to these Men. They are not ours to distribute.”

“The seeing-stones were made by the Eldar. These Men use our wisdom to protect their people when no Sindar are afforded such trust. Or power.” His eyes flicked to Elaniel. “Well. Most Sindar are not given such power. Some have sway.”

She could hear the voices of all her foremothers, back to Enelyë herself, telling her to punch the man in the face.

Elves may be immortal, but their noses broke just as easily as Men’s.

Gil-galad pulled Ristarion’s focus back. “If you have a concern to share, I would ask that you speak plainly, Lord Ristarion.”

Ristarion spread his hands in mock surrender. “I only raise concerns that others share but lack the courage to voice. Surely, transparency is what we all value, High King?”

“We do,” Gil-galad said gently. Dangerously so. “Please, share what you have heard. I would have no secrets between any of us tasked with the safety of our people.”

“I dare not, High King,” Ristation continued in an innocent tone, as though being asked to break an Oath. “Many speak to me, and I am known for highlighting their concerns with discretion. I bring these concerns to this council – to you, High King – as I have done in the past, because there are those around this table with the same questions who fear to name them.”

“And those questions are?” Gil-galad prompted again, like an elder speaking to a particularly unruly child.

“We seem to be giving much to Men — our craftsmanship, our resources, our wisdom, our power — to help them flourish. What do they offer in return?”

Elrond tried to interject. Elaniel almost smiled at the effort. The younger elf had truly tried.

Valar, bless him.

“Bodies,” Gil-galad replied loudly, throwing down the scroll in his hands, all restraint gone, his volume rising with each sentence. “They offer us bodies, Ristarion. If every elf in every realm in Middle Earth picked up a sword tomorrow, we would yet fall far short of the numbers needed to defeat Sauron. The Men offer us soldiers to wield swords against orcs. They offer to risk their brief lives to stand with us, despite not knowing their fates after death. For that offered sacrifice alone, I will build as many towers and fortifications as they ask of me.”

Gil-galad’s sharp gaze flicked over the council and he took a steadying breath. Elaniel could see a muscle working in his jaw, open anger on his face. The most expressive she had ever seen him in public. And he was known for being very expressive in public.

At least, when it comes to frustration.

“My decision is final and I will not repeat it. Council dismissed. Ristarion, you will stay to discuss this matter with me.”

Noldor anger, indeed. Are you sure you’re a descendent of Finarfin and not Fëanor, morconinya?

Elaniel stood, gathering her papers. As she moved toward the door, Ristarion stepped into her path, his smirk firmly in place. She met his gaze evenly and spoke quietly, for his ears alone, in accented Sindarin.

I bear ill news, ‘friend.’ He will win.

Ristarion’s expression darkened, but she didn’t wait for a response. The hallway beyond the chamber was filled with light, and as she walked into it, she felt her resolve burn brighter.

And then she felt Elrond yank her by the arm through the doorway to Gil-galad’s study.

Elrond shut the study door behind them with deliberate care, turning to face Elaniel with a measured expression.

Elaniel stood near the desk, her hand idly brushing against the edge as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s trying to make me a weapon against him,” she began, her voice low but firm. “Ristarion wants to use me to weaken Gil-galad's authority. To sow doubt—not just about me, but about his leadership.”

Elrond crossed the room, leaning casually against a shelf but watching her intently. “You are correct. Ristarion is not merely targeting you; he has now moved to dividing fragile relationships between the Sindarin and Noldor realms. if he can frame his arguments in a way that appears to question your suitability, particularly as a Sindarin woman, he believes it will resonate with those who are uncertain. And by provoking him…”

Elaniel exhaled sharply, her fingers curling against the polished wood. “And by provoking him, I risk proving him right.”

Which is why he wrangled me in here.

She turned back to Elrond, a flicker of resolve returning to her eyes. “But we must find ways to shield Gil-galad from Ristarion’s attacks, certainly? He cannot spend all his energy countering political intrigue when there are greater battles to fight.”

Elrond’s expression grew thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the shelf. “Perhaps we can divert Ristarion’s attention. Give him something else to focus on, something that feels like a victory to him but ultimately serves our purposes.”

Before Elaniel could respond, the door to the study opened, and Gil-galad entered. He carried a scroll in one hand, which he smacked down on the table with a decisive gesture.

“Well,” he said, his tone dry, “Predictably, that conversation was unnecessarily difficult and accomplished nothing.”

Elaniel rose from her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What did he say?”

“He insists that Oropher and Amdir demand a palantír each to formally join the alliance and promise their warriors,” Gil-galad said, dropping into a chair with a sigh. “He paints it as a non-negotiable point.”

“A palantír!” Elaniel and Elrond exclaimed in near-unison, both shocked at the request.

Gil-galad nodded in quiet agreement, holding up his fingers. “Two.”

“It is odd that such a significant demand would come solely through Ristarion.” Elrond leaned forward, his tone thoughtful but unconvinced. “If the demand is genuine — and the probability is high it is not — Ristarion’s interference might be undermining direct communication.”

“I am surprised to hear Sindar lords are interested in any object made by Fëanor, to be blunt.” Elaniel folded her arms, staring into the flames. “Seven stones,” she murmured. “And none for any elven realms? It’s not difficult to see why that would breed resentment.”

Gil-galad turned thoughtful. “On its face, I agree. But we do not own the stones to sway how they are used. While Elendil’s stewardship of seven is…surprising, to share them with any other realms would be his choice alone. I suspect he will not agree lightly.”

“And seeing-stones can be dangerous,” Elrond admitted, his tone grave. “They reveal truths and can be used for communication, yes. But they also show half-truths, shadows. A mind untrained can be misled—or worse, fully manipulated by a powerful mind using a paired stone. It is not something every lord with a realm should have access to.”

Elaniel’s thoughts churned. “And yet you trust Elendil with this power?”

“Implicitly,” Gil-galad said without hesitation. “Elendil is wise and unambitious. He seeks no dominion, only unity and safety for his people.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the crackle of the fire the only sound. Elaniel spoke carefully, her gaze steady on Gil-galad. “What if you were to meet Oropher head on? Travel to Greenwood and speak with him face-to-face.”

Elrond shifted in his seat, his brow furrowing. “Direct confrontation might backfire. Oropher is known for his pride. An uninvited visit could be seen as an affront, as though we doubt their intentions and wish to watch them.”

Elaniel felt a surge of conviction. “The stakes are too high for miscommunication or formal dinners or emissaries. If Oropher and Amdír truly demand palantirí to join the alliance, you deserve to hear it from them directly, king to king. And if they do not, they should be told their names were used to demand them, king to king.”

Elrond looked between them, giving a small shrug. “It is a calculated risk. If nothing else, it would demonstrate your commitment to hearing their concerns.”

Gil-galad met her gaze, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Indeed. I will make plans to go to Greenwood and speak with Oropher directly.”

Elaniel shielded her eyes from the setting sun as she gazed up at the towering structure. The stones gleamed, freshly cut and fit together with the precision her teams had worked hard to master.

“They are well on their way,” Alenya said, her voice laced with admiration. She stood beside Elaniel, her posture relaxed but her sharp gaze flicking to every corner of the tower and its surroundings. “The walls look strong enough to withstand a ravisher. Though I wouldn’t bet on those gates around the village yet.”

Elaniel followed her gaze and frowned. The wooden gates hung slightly off-center, the metal hinges not yet properly secured. “We’ll need to reinforce those hinges,” she murmured. “I can speak with the blacksmith before we head back to Lindon.”

Alenya smirked, leaning on her spear. “You’ll have to hurry. I hear the blacksmith is the kind to vanish into the pub after midday and refuse to come out.”

Elaniel laughed. “Understood.” She turned back to the village, watching as children darted between cottages and smoke curled lazily from chimneys. The scene was peaceful.

As new construction sites were built — far away from the walls of Lindon and Imladris — it made sense to plan villages nearby for the workers and their families. These villages often merged with the fortifications once they were finalized, becoming centers of trade on oft-traveled routes with stationed soldiers for protection.

“I think it’s beautiful here,” Elaniel said with a sigh. The sight made her miss worksites from long ago, friends made during a few weeks of hard work building something sturdy. “Almost enough to tempt a woman to give up soldiering, eh?”

Before Alenya could reply, a faint sound reached their ears—a distant rumble. Both women turned toward the forest.

“Did you hear that?” Elaniel asked, her voice tight.

Alenya’s expression darkened. “Yes. And I don’t think it’s thunder.”

The rumble grew louder, accompanied by the faint sound of guttural cries. The villagers began to notice, their movements slowing as they turned toward the treeline.

“Elaniel, get back to the village,” Alenya ordered, her spear already in hand.

Elaniel’s heart leaped into her throat. She grabbed the hilt of her sword, her grip tightening as the first orc ran out of the tree line, weapon raised. By her count, eight - maybe ten - orcs. A raiding band.

“I will not leave you,” Elaniel said firmly, unsheathing the short sword she carried.

“I did not. ask.” Alenya’s tone was sharp, but there was no time for argument. “Get the villagers inside!”

Elaniel turned to the nearest group of villagers, herding them toward the gates. “To the walls! Go, now!” she called, her voice cutting through the rising panic. They obeyed, scrambling toward the gates as Alenya held her ground.

A few scattered orcs came closer toward them, their cries echoing through the air.

Elaniel’s sword clashed against the first orc’s blade, the force of the blow reverberating up her arm. She grit her teeth and pushed back, trying desperately to remember the techniques she had practiced but never had to use in earnest. The creature’s twisted sword sliced her left bicep and she winced in pain. Blood flooded through her sleeve, drenching her in a warmth that cooled quickly in the twilight air. She could taste a metallic tang in her mouth as she managed to bring her sword around to strike the orc, sending him stumbling back.

Alenya fought beside her, her movements swift and precise. Her spear darted like a snake, finding gaps in the orcs’ armor. “Keep moving back!” she shouted.

Elaniel barely had time to process the chaos around her — the blood dripping down her fingers to leave splatters on the stone, the screaming as people headed for the gates, the grunts as orcs began slaughtering livestock — when a scream pierced the air. She turned to see a child hiding underneath a heavy cart near one of the cottages.

Her heart clenched. Without thinking, she broke away.

The cart was heavy, its edges splintered, and it was clear it had rested with its load for many weeks through rain. The child, still a youngling, was sobbing, his hands clutching at the dirt. He was begging for his ada.

“It’s okay,” Elaniel said, kneeling beside him. “I’ll get you out.”

She tried reaching for him first, encouraging him to come toward her, but the fear in his eyes told her she would lose that fight. She wedged her shoulder beneath the edge of the cart, straining against its weight. Pain shot through her as she pushed, but the cart barely budged.

“Elaniel, go!” Alenya shouted, her tone desperate.

“I can’t leave him!” Elaniel yelled back, her voice breaking.

The cart shifted slightly, but not enough. The child’s cries grew louder as the clash of metal drew nearer. A shadow loomed over her, and Elaniel looked up to see an orc raising its blade. Her heart stopped, eyes flicking to the hilt of the sword she dropped.

She would never reach it in time.

The orc’s blade never fell.

Alenya’s spear struck true, and the creature collapsed with a guttural cry, falling forward next to her. Alenya stumbled near, her breathing ragged as she grabbed the haft of her spear to pull it from the orc’s back. “Get the boy,” she said, her voice tight with pain. Blood dripped from a slash on her cheek, and her left arm hung at an odd angle. “Go,” she said, her voice softer now. “Please. I’ll hold them off.”

It felt like time slowed. For an eternity, all Elaniel could see was the determination on every line of Alenya’s face.

They did not speak, but both understood.

Elaniel braced herself against the cart again, making it move back just enough for her to reach the terrified child. She cradled him against her chest, her arm screaming in protest. “It’s okay,” she whispered as she ran toward the village gates, willing herself not to look back. The gates were closing, but she slipped inside just in time.

She turned to see Alenya retreating, her movements slower now but still determined. Two large orcs pressed closer, but her spear had a long reach. A volley of arrows from the village guards rained down, driving them back and felling at least one. Alenya stumbled through the gates, and they slammed shut behind her.

Elaniel ran to her in time to see Alenya give her a weak smile. “Told you,” she said, breathing raggedly. “Told you I’d hold them off.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” Alenya interrupted, her voice hardened. “You did what you had to do. So did I. That is the way of things for us, ohtarwen.” She reached out, grabbing Elaniel’s uninjured forearm in a tight grip – a warrior’s grip.

Elaniel nodded, tears pricking at her eyes, her throat growing tight.

And tighter.

And as she fell to the dirt, all she could think was:

Am I fainting?

Fuck.

Gil-galad paused in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, his voice low but warm as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dimly lit, a small lantern on the table next to her.

“I am resting,” Elaniel replied softly. “Mostly. Why are you here?”

His gaze softened as he crossed the room, pulling a stool close to the bed. “Because you are next door to my rooms and I heard you stir. The healers brought you to the palace from the village,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You were unconscious.”

“Ah, so my wound is that dire, hm? Not the most unfortunate place to die, really,” she laughed, glancing exaggeratedly around the room.

He did not laugh in return. If anything, his frown deepened.

Not in the mood for humor, it would seem.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “A scratch, truly.” Elaniel lifted her arm to show him the bandage, her wound already nearly healed. Elves were hardy beings.

Gil-galad arched a brow, his face leaving no room for argument. “I spoke with the healers. The term they prefer to use is gash. Acquired at the same time as your dislocated shoulder. They said you were quite fortunate the blade did not strike an artery. Particularly because the blade was poisoned.”

“Yet now I am —“

“Again, to your great fortune, a healer nearby was aware of the signs and provided you and Alenya care until you could be brought here.” His voice rose, frustration blossoming across his face. He seemed to have barely – barely – restrained himself from raising his finger or his voice at her. She saw his hands twitch and he clasped them in his lap, one clenching the other.

Ah.

He is afraid.

“I am tempted to shutter the entire project and bring the workers and their families back to Lindon immediately. Clearly there are too many hazards in the area and no gift for Men is worth the risk to my people.” The anger drained from his voice quickly, leaving weariness in its place. “Or you.”

She wanted to tease him, to tell him that his phrasing made it sound as though she was not one of his people. Or to take the tone of a master stonemason and explain why one orc encounter is not nearly enough of a threat to pause a project of this import. Or to offer some of the many ways the worksites could be made safer.

But he was not speaking to her as a king.

So instead, she sighed, her smile fading. “I am safe now. I did not mean to worry you.”

“I know you did not,” he replied. He took her hand in his, careful not to disturb her arm. “Unfortunately, your intent does not make much difference. I will worry regardless.”

For a long time, they sat in silence. She could feel the anger fade from him. The concern was there, still; she could feel it in his hands after he unclenched his own to hold hers. But the intensity of his feelings shifted from bright flames to warm embers. He calmed as he brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

Elaniel found herself leaning up to meet him, their faces close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. She raised her hand to his cheek, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“I am likely to do it again,” she warned, mischief in her eyes.

A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he softened almost immediately, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing it gently to his cheek. “I am high king, despite how infrequently you remember,” he murmured. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I could command it.”

She smiled in return. “I’m likely to ignore your command, as well.” A pause before her voice turned teasing. “And on either account, you are the high king of the Noldor, where as I, a Sindar woman, may not recognize your claim–”

He laughed loudly, his mood lifted. “We will argue later, and I will win. Until then – ”

A knock at the door interrupted them, and a healer stepped in to check Elaniel’s bandages. Gil-galad stood and moved aside respectfully, his hands clasped as he watched the healer work.

After a few moments, a few “yes or no” inquiries, the header stepped back. She seemed satisfied. “Your wounds are well on their way to healing. I foresee no problems, and I intend to release you tomorrow morning. However,” she added, giving Gil-galad a pointed look, “you need to keep your weight off your arm and rest.”

Elaniel murmured her thanks as the healer left, stifling a laugh. Once they were alone again, Gil-galad closed the door and flipped the lock — she noticed that specifically and raised an eyebrow. He crossed the room and sat back down, regarding Elaniel with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You heard the healer,” he said. “One more night of rest.”

“I am not tired and I feel well enough,” she protested, worried the weariness in her voice would betray her.

Stay.

Gil-galad smiled and shook his head. Without a word, he kicked off his boots and removed his cloak. He slid onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her.

He settled against the pillows and gently pulled her toward his chest. Elaniel relaxed against him, her head resting just beneath his chin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her.

“This is hardly appropriate behavior,” she murmured as she shimmied into place against him, sighing contentedly. “Improper. Unethical. Disgraceful. Rumors everywhere in your court.”

“I will risk the scandal,” he said lightly, his hand tracing soothing circles on her back. “I may as well live the life I’m accused of having. Sleep, Elaniel.”

“I’m not sure I can go back to sleep, now that you are here…” she trailed off, biting her lip in what she hoped was a subtle play at being coy.

Stay.

Stay stay stay with me.

Gil-galad tilted his head down to look at her. She saw amusement play across his features. Mild annoyance that she was not going to simply listen to him and fall asleep as she should. And something else.

She saw the moment she won.

“I wonder…” Slowly, he leaned forward and pulled her into a deep kiss. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic as warmth spread low in her belly. A broad hand settled on the curve of her waist; his thumb lazily moved in circles over her hip.

“Would you like help falling asleep?” he asked softly, something low and smoky in his voice. Heat lanced through her. She could smell the salt air on his skin. She wanted to taste him, to lick where his neck met his shoulder and work her way to his ear and back down his chest…

“Ereinion...” Her voice was pleading, but far off, as though she didn’t know what she was asking for.

A lie. We both know exactly what I want.

Gil-galad kissed her again, his fingers skimming down the side of her body, drawing small sounds of pleasure from the back of her throat as she began to thrum for him. She had learned she was, well, noisy when they kissed, to her false shame and to his thorough delight.

Moaning softly, she stretched into the growing warmth she felt between her legs, her hips rolling of their own accord as she flattened her body against his. She resisted the urge to hook her leg over his waist and pull him closer. But only just.

“Ereinion,” she murmured more insistently, moving against him more purposefully now.

Slowly, Gil-galad walked his fingers against her thigh, inch by inch, pulling the hem of her dress toward her waist, fingertips brushing softly against her skin. His hand came to rest on her waist once again, her skirt hiked up, legs mostly exposed. His head tilted, eyes firmly fixed on hers as he waited patiently.

For her approval, for her blessing, for her command…

The heat in her core grew. She stretched into him again, rolling against the hardness she could feel growing against her thigh. A silent invitation.

Silence did not seem to be what he sought.

His voice was low. Eager. Hungry. “Would you—”

“If you start talking to me instead of touching me, I will muster whatever strength the Valar have left me with and scream.”

He blinked in momentary surprise, the second-guesses seeming to die on his tongue. But his eyes narrowed as he hiked one of her legs to his side, her skirt falling into a pool against her waist. She gasped at the sudden movement, at the vulnerability of being so exposed against him. At the friction against her core.

“But what if my goal is to make you scream? Surely you would not let me win so easily.” Her cheeks flushed red and he laughed, soft and low.

“Efficient,” he murmured at her lack of underwear, fingers trailing down the crease of her thigh. She broke out in goosebumps at the sensation, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. Lust thrummed through her.

Effortlessly, he rolled, placing her gently on her back under him, planting a well-muscled thigh between her legs. He hovered over her on his forearms, and she craned up to kiss him again. Long brown hair fell in curtains around their faces, blocking out the rest of the world.

Elaniel bucked, his thigh providing the pressure she desperately sought. She wasn’t fully in control of the motion and that fact clearly thrilled him. She started panting softly as her body found a rhythm against him. Her hands snaked down his stomach to palm the length of him as he rutted against her hand, kissing her frantically. She sat up, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder to wrap her arms around his neck, but he groaned and pulled back.

Her eyes fluttered open, confusion on her brow, as she dropped her hands.

“You are supposed to be resting your arm, not leaning on it. And…” A faint blush rose to his cheeks, his voice so low she could barely hear him despite the keenness of elven ears. “I wish to learn which sensations you find pleasurable.”

Her eyes glinted. “If helpful, I know which sensations I will enjoy.”

All of them. Any of them. Pick. Just touch me.

He gently guided her back down to the bed and began kissing her again. Down her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, earning more noises from her as he did so.

“Mm, indeed,“ he nodded, pretending to look thoughtful, his brow furrowing as he kissed his way softly down her body, hands roving anywhere his lips did not. “You would know. Therefore, it would seem I need to learn. Hands-on experience. You’ve always been a patient and thorough instructor.”

He tugged at the neckline of her dress, gently freeing her breasts as he murmured appreciatively, fingers trailing across her exposed skin. She broke out in goosebumps again at the sensation, whimpering for him as he took one of her nipples in his mouth.

Still, despite the ache building between her legs — and the fact that she would beg for him, right now, in any way he asked her to — she managed to tease him. “If this is how you would like to spend your evening, I am happy to indulge you.”

“Thank you for the learning opportunity,” he replied innocently, stilling for a moment above her. She flushed again, suddenly shy – and keenly aware she was bared to him while he was fully dressed. She gazed up at him, biting her lip, and tugged at the hem of his tunic.

Too much clothing. Let me see you.

Seeming to understand, he straightened above her to undo his belt and tunic, ripping the tunic over his head in one smooth motion to drop it to the floor. His skin almost glowed in the firelight and she drank in the sight of him, broad shoulders, firm muscles, and gods, his arms.

He stared at her with the same appreciation, hungry brown eyes seeming to memorize every line and curve of her. Finally, he leaned down and shifted her legs above his shoulders gently, a hand wrapping around her thigh to hold her in place. Kissing his way down her legs, his head dipped between her knees. He nuzzled deeper, opening her legs more until his nose was almost buried in her curls. Her body writhed slowly, straining to reach him, desperate for contact.

She was already aching for him, wetness running down her leg. She whimpered again — a last resort. Cheating, and she knew it.

Gil-galad laughed and his hot breath fanned against her, causing another spike of desire. She almost glared at him for it. He paused to press more kisses into her skin, so close to her. So close…Elaniel swallowed, holding her breath, waiting to feel him, to feel anything. Every muscle was taut, straining for his touch. She thought she would shatter.

This time, her whimper turned icy, frustrated, and she tilted her hips up to chase him.

“Stubborn,” Gil-galad chided teasingly. His warm tongue suddenly found her, swirling softly against her clit. He brought her body closer, dragging her hips up and burying his face against her to lick her open. Giving her the friction she desperately craved.

Elaniel inhaled sharply, her hand flying to his hair. She forced herself to hold back the wild feeling thrumming through her, to not grab him, ride against him, pull him up…

He hummed against her as her hips jutted again, her body begging for more, faster, harder.

He lifted his head — she huffed at the loss of his tongue — and brought up his hand, locking eyes with her. He put two of his fingers in his mouth, wetting them without looking away from her, the thumb of his other hand still swirling lazily around her clit. He paused, waiting again for her approval.

Her eyes closed again and she murmured “yes, yes, yes,” like a melody.

He glowed under her praise, his own eyes closing as he slid a broad finger into her— oh. so. slowly. Achingly slow. She had to stop herself from chasing his hand, to let him take his time.

He added another finger, teasing her again slowly, his knuckles brushing against the inside of her thighs as he sank into her, She stifled a moan and clenched around his fingers, the aching growing deeper within her.

Softly, he started murmuring praises as he maintained a steady rhythm into her, pressing kisses inside her thighs. His voice was hoarse with want as he told her how wet and warm she was, how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he thinks of her — only her — when he touches himself, how he always finished with her name on his lips, how she tasted like honey and he had known she would.

Another white-hot flash bolted through her as he found some…hidden…spot…. inside her with his fingertips and firmly stroked it. She inhaled sharply, seeing white, clawing at the bedsheets. Her thighs almost snapped shut against his arm, and he used his free hand to gently tap her hip, asking her to spread legs apart again.

As soon as she did for him, his head dipped, tongue twisting into her again, wet and hot and silky. His hand joined his tongue again and mercifully he kept a steady pace this time, fingers curling upward again as his mouth moved over her. Soft hair brushed against her legs, adding to the ocean of sensations she was drowning in.

She clawed at his forearms, his shoulders, clinging to him, holding him in place as she finally came, heat cresting over her. She sang for him without thought to how loud she was — shuddering as the hot, swollen ache inside her turned into silken relief around his fingers, coaxing her through each wave until she lay panting. Her muscles trembled from the strain and release, heart hammering in her chest.

Her mind slowly floated back into her body, a tingle coursing through her, every nerve overstimulated and simmering and satisfied.

Gil-galad reverently moved her legs to rest on the bed, arranging her limbs with a very self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. She felt him crawl up next to her, his weight shifting her slightly. He faced her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest, still mindful of her wrapped arm. He sighed as she sank against him. “And now, perhaps you will sleep.”

Even in her blissful, half-asleep state, she could not stop herself. “High King, I urgently request your counsel. I have been lied to.”

Gil-galad chuckled as he arranged the blankets around them both, ensuring she was covered and warm. “Your king is at your command. What manner of lie have you been told, my Lady?”

She nuzzled into his chest, her eyes drifting closed as she took in the scent of him, his heartbeat still thudding. “That was not the work of an unlearned elf,” she teased. “Far too good. Experienced,” she mumbled in an accusatory tone, gently poking a finger into his shoulder.

A small, light laugh. “No, not experienced. But…perhaps I learned from a book, mmm?” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, drawing a sleepy laugh from her.

“If that was the attempt of a novice, then I am most eager to help you master your craft…”

He shushed her gently. “Sleep. Tell me when you wake.”

As she drifted off, his hand lingering on hers, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She knew he would stay by her side.

They will face tomorrow together.

Author’s Notes:

Regarding the laws and customs of the Eldar: How I am skirting it.

A.K.A How Elves Get Down

Many a writer out there *waves arms broadly* working with elves in Tolkien’s universe may feel the need to write them as a pretty straight-laced race of beings: no open lust, no sex outside marriage, unbreakable oaths. These are aspects aligned with the way Tolkien portrays elves, and so many fics featuring some of our faves will pair elves with OCs who are their betrothed or intended or spouse – a relationship that fits within the provided framework of elven marriages. Sometimes writers will make some complex (and cool!) rationales to allow this character to enter a relationship that way with x character despite abc reason.

Love these fics. LOVE THEM. Give me all the betrothal and intended and sneakylink hijinks you can. ….but don’t keep these lovely people sexually repressed unless you want to.

I will have a separate post on this that I'll come back and link, but my big work-around is "The document says bodily union. Define that for me."

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

You are here -> Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

#gil-galad #the rings of power #gil galad #gil galad x oc #trop fanfiction #lotr rop #gilgadaddy #star and stone #high king gil galad #Erienion Gil-galad #the silmarillion #sindarin vs noldor FIGHT #laws and customs of the eldar #elrond peredhel #elrond #gilgalad

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whenthegoldrays · 6 months ago

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ELLY'S TOP TEN K-DRAMAS (with songs to match!)

10. Queen of Tears (2024)

Baek Hyun-woo is relieved to hear that his wife has only three months to live, which will save him the mortification of divorcing her — what he isn’t expecting is to fall back in love with her in those three months. This show gets a little crazy, but the acting is top tier, and the ensemble cast is one of my favorites ever. (Also, the OST is my new most beloved.)

Song for this drama: Don’t Take The Money

9. Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022)

Woo Young-Woo navigates her career, life changes, and love as a rookie at Hanbada Law Firm and a woman on the autism spectrum. Young-Woo is a darling, and her boy is the greenest flag ever.

Song for this drama: scales

8. Castaway Diva (2023)

After 15 years stranded on a desert island, Seo Mok-ha pursues her dream of becoming a singer while searching for the boy who helped her escape her abusive father. Despite the horrors, this show will make you believe there is good in the world.

Song for this drama: Sweet Chamomile

7. Hometown Cha Cha Cha (2021)

Yoon Hye-jin moves to a seaside town to open a dental clinic and finds the home she always wanted amidst its colorful residents. So funny and the male lead is basically the perfect man.

Song for this drama: Apple Pie

6. Familiar Wife (2018)

A married couple who have fallen out of love get to see each other in a new light after the husband, Ju-hyeok, goes back in time and changes their history. You've never rooted this hard for such an infuriating man.

Song for this drama: No One Knows

5. Marry My Husband (2024)

After being murdered by her husband and best friend, a woman wakes up ten years in the past, months before her wedding, and must fight to prevent her marriage and eventual death from happening again. Swooniest male lead, cutest female friendships, and some of the most legit terrifying villains.

Song for this drama: Funeral

4. Lovely Runner (2024)

Immediately after her idol commits suicide, the devastated Sol is transported back to high school, where she discovers that the two of them used to be neighbors and begins a desperate mission to change the course of his life. Get ready for the most adorable, most pathetic loser of a male lead ever.

Song for this drama: Always Remember Us This Way

3. Crash Landing On You (2019–2020)

After a freak accident lands her in North Korea, Yoon Se-ri must rely on the soldier who saved her life in order to survive, stay hidden, and get back to South Korea. Rips you apart in the best possible way.

Song for this drama: If I Never Knew You

2. Live Up To Your Name (2017)

Renowned acupuncturist Heo Im falls 400 years through time and lands in Seoul, where his life and fate intertwine with that of cardiac surgeon Choi Yeon Kyung. Beautiful, unmatched chemistry.

Song for this drama: epiphany

1. Twinkling Watermelon (2023)

Ha Eun Gyeol is mysteriously sent back in time, where he meets his parents as teenagers and discovers he didn't know as much about them as he thought he did. Peak family feels, peak soft couple, and peak enemies to lovers.

Song for this drama: Long Live

#the updated version! :D #can you tell I love time travel #elly's posts #kdrama #navigation #show recs #and time for all the show tags:#queen of tears #extraordinary attorney woo #castaway diva #lovely runner #familiar wife #marry my husband #hometown cha cha cha #crash landing on you #live up to your name #twinkling watermelon

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starshadyy · 7 months ago

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what your favorite splatoon character says about YOU!

obligatory “this is a joke” disclaimer, please don’t take offense i’m only being silly👉👈

☆ ★ ☆

callie: you are a diehard squid sisters fan. you have an intrinsic sense for design and are probably super creative. you hate it when people misinterpret her. others wouldn’t assume it, but you actually need therapy more than most others on this list…😔

marie: you’re really intimidating but probably super nice. you’re actually good at the game and are well-versed in the meta. you may not be the best at communication, but you have a strong intuition and are good at reading people

pearl: an absolute feral crackhead who needs to be kept on a leash. definitely queer. nasty majesty is your national anthem. you breathe life and energy into every situation you enter, and others appreciate you for it. you are pearlina’s strongest soldier! 🩷🩵

marina: you are a massive nerd /affectionate. you either wanna be her friend or you have a fat crush on her. you listen to splatoon ost all the time. your room is packed with stuff from the media you like, including mountains of plushies

shiver: you join her team during splatfests even when you don’t necessarily agree with the platform. you’re likely very sarcastic and always speak your mind. oh yeah, and you’re a weeb

frye: you loved her from the start and defended her honor back when everyone was clowning on her design. you’re very talented but humble about your accomplishments. you would bite someone if allowed

big man: you act laid back but are probably filled with anxiety. i get the vibe that you would own an unconventional pet of some kind [turtle, frog, ferret, etc.]. you’re for sure the mom friend. you know nothing about splatoon lore

captain 3: you are the BACKBONE of this fandom and i have nothing but respect for you. you’re probably ranked pretty high in competitive and are likely a completionist

agent 4: you grew up on splatoon 2 and were sure that they would show up in side order only to be… uh, half right? i’m so sorry sweet prince /gn. don’t you worry, your day [splatoon 4] is fast approaching…

eight: you’re very analytical and derive great joy from the story aspects of splatoon. you either write or read fanfiction and maybe cosplay too. you LIVE for the found family trope, and also probably ship them with captain 3. you have amazing taste :]

neo agent 3: you think lil buddy is the most adorable creature to walk the planet. you wish their initial outfit was actually accessible in the game. you’ve probably only played splatoon 3

cap’n cuttlefish: you’re an og who’s been around since splatoon 1 but still know next to nothing about the lore. you don’t main a weapon, and instead prefer to bounce around. you are… an inscrutable crackhead who i want to study

dj octavio: you’re willing to die on the hill that he is not a villain and only did what he did to support his people [you’re right btw]. you’re actually really chill and fun and i have a lot of respect for you. also, i’m liable to believe that you ship him with cuttlefish, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!?

commander tartar: you’re… ME??? villainous characters are always your favorites. you think octo expansion is a masterpiece [and you’re entirely right]. you’re a splatoon scholar and scour every obscure twitter post and artbook note to satiate your hunger for that sweet sweet lore. there’s something deeply wrong in your head.

mr. grizz: you play a lot of salmon run but are actually kinda bad at it [shhh i won’t tell]. you suffered through after alterna just for his backstory log and the bear ears. i’m going to go out on a limb here and say… you have daddy issues

smollusk: you LOVE the idea that marina and pearl are its adoptive moms. you’ve beaten side order with every palette. you overuse the “🥺” emoji. you miiight be a little annoying, but your heart is in the right place… probably

acht: either the chillest person you’ll ever meet or the most insane. probably both. you’re 100% queer and probably neurodivergent too. i bet you listen to will wood and / or tally hall. i wanna be your friend

harmony: you know every chirpy chips song by heart. you’re probably really sweet and i know you make banger fanart. you have an affinity for cute things and i bet your favorite pokémon type is fairy. DEFINITELY neurodivergent.

cq cumber: ???you both confuse and frighten me!!! what can i even say? you’re a cryptid! but honestly, you’re kinda iconic. i salute you, you freak of nature🫡

iso padre: I LOVE YOU. you’re accepting of all people and are just an absolute saint in general. daddy issues, but you’re coping way better than the grizz fans. also, i’m betting that you’re neurodivergent

sheldon: i didn’t think you existed, but turns out that you do? you actually listen to his rambles. splatoon 2 is your favorite game in the series. you’re able to see the value in things that others tear down and y'know what? i respect that [not saying i approve of your character choice though]

judd: wait, why him? ohh wait, i know! you probably just don’t care about splatoon’s story at all and / or love cats. there, that’s totally it, right?

lil judd: you either DON’T know his lore and just like the cute little kitten, or you DO know his lore and you’re unhinged. i’m scared of you

spyke: you’d bark for him without hesitation and DON’T pretend you wouldn’t. you clown. you absolute freak. i know what you are. /j

murch: if i had to bet, you’re probably the shy type who prefers to let others do the talking for them. you might secretly be a little freaky though, and i think you should embrace that side of yourself. you’re safe here. be free.

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it-happened-one-fic · 10 months ago

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Genuine With You - Kalim

Author Notes: Someday, I will feel comfortable writing Kalim, but today is not yet that today. In all seriousness though, I wrote this while listening to "Romantic Flight" from the How to Train Your Dragon OST. I really can't quite decide how I feel about this fic, but I sort of thought it was time for me to post it. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral/ fluff/ romance

Word Count: 881

It wasn’t the first time you’d taken Kalim’s hand to join him on a magic carpet ride through the night sky. But something about it felt different this time.

When your hand had slipped into his warm one and he’d tugged you through your window and onto the surprisingly soft fabric, you’d felt strangely shy.

Kalim seemed like his normal self, though, if perhaps a little quieter, as he steered the carpet to take you up higher until you were sailing above the clouds and could see the moon in all its pale glory.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble effort to protect yourself from the cool night air, “Does it ever get old?”

Your eyes were stuck on the moon even as Kalim looked over at you with a surprised expression that soon melted into one of understanding, “Never. It’s just as magical everytime.”

You smiled, oddly comforted by his words. Somehow, being up in the sky with Kalim by your side made everything feel just a little bit simpler. Your problems seemed distant and far away, with even the school itself appearing tiny.

But perhaps distance had a way of putting things into perspective. While NRC often seemed larger than life, it was just a small part of this great, big world.

Amusingly, you never felt closer to anyone than when you were with Kalim, sailing through the sky high over the sleeping campus. There was a strange serenity, and though Kalim was always joyful, his happiness seemed easier and more relaxed when it was just the two of you.

It wasn’t like you thought he put on for others, but he did seem a little more genuine when it was just you and him. After all, it was only when it was just you and Grim around that you’d ever truly heard him voice any sort of complaints.

“It’s funny; you’re easy to be around,” Kalim’s voice interrupted your musings and spoke your thoughts aloud. You turned to look at him with no small amount of surprise, and he had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, “I know it's an odd thing to say…. But I really do feel that way.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face at his words, feeling both touched and relieved that he felt the same way. “It’s not odd; I feel the same way about you.”

Now it was his turn to stare at you with wide, disbelieving eyes that had you letting out a laugh, “Is that really so surprising?”

He let out an almost sheepish chuckle and actually nodded, startling you even as he began to explain, “Yeah, it is. A lot of people seem to think they have to put an act around me because of who I am. Even Jamil….”

He trailed off, looking down as the smile on his face faded at his friend’s name. You’d known for quite some time that the events of winter break…. Jamil’s overblot was still weighing heavily on Kalim’s mind.

And though you entirely understood why that was the case, it pained you that everything that had happened during that time still bothered him so much. But you had no words to comfort the young man, even though you desperately wanted to. So instead, you decided to distract him by continuing on with your previous vein of thought.

“I’ve never felt that way,” You responded honestly and almost immediately regained Kalim’s attention. He no longer looked as sorrowful as before, and the longer you continued speaking, the happier he looked.

“I’ve always thought you’re one of the most comfortable people to be around at this school. I’ve never felt like I needed to be wary or put on an act around you. I can just… exist.” You glanced back at him, a smile on your face as you awkwardly lifted a shoulder.

“You just strike me as a really genuine guy, and I guess I want to be just as genuine with you as you are with me.”

It was like your words had opened some sort of door for Kalim. His eyes shone with both unshed tears and joy, and the next thing you knew, all the cold air that had been blowing around was blocked by his body as he tugged you into a tight embrace.

Because, despite the fact that Kalim was a carefree boy who seemed to do little work, he was by no means small or weak.

You let out a tiny, half-startled laugh as you wrapped your arms responsively around him and received a tiny squeeze in return as you reciprocated his affection.

“Thank you, Y/n; that means so much to me.” The young man leaned bac and you wished you’d had time to brace yourself for the unadulterated affection that shone in his garnet-colored eyes.

“I feel the same way. It’s easy being with you, and I’m so glad you’re here. Even if you aren’t originally from Twisted Wonderland, you mean the world to me.”

He held your hands in his, maintaining eye contact in a way that felt incredibly meaningful, even though you could never read the myriad of emotions that floated through his gaze, though you did catch a few.

Gratitude, honesty, joy, and pure, unfiltered love.

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yamsgarden · 7 months ago

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looong Tales of Symphonia and Tales of Vesperia rambling incoming:

I was chatting with my buddy about Tales of Vesperia and Tales of Symphonia and idk by what miracle this could ever happen, but I truly wish someday Bandai Namco could make a TRUE remake of Tales of Symphonia but with Tales of Vesperia's cel shade graphics

Because so far, all "remakes" are just more or less good ports from what I read/ saw? And TOV still holds up to this day, even 20+ years after even if the animation is a liiiittle stiff it' still works, but yeah TOS could really have a fantstic revamp

I want her so bad to experiement this journey too, but I totally get it that the graphics are a turn off... Which is also so sad because to me they still feel cute and I grew up with them OTL

idk... I understand TOS isn't necessarily the most insane RPG out there, same with Baten Kaitos but they have their own identity and amazing writting and complex stories and charming characters aaa even 20+ years later and I still hold these games in my heart and still listen to their OST, it really feels like magic

It's not like today where you have to constantly play daily for grinding or worry about being tempted to buy micro items in the shop with real money, it was a one time payment and one shot story and had an end... And that's what made it great too imo... if that makes sense, idk what I'm saying anymore, I guess I just miss so much how things used to be haha

Where games had more soul and personnality and passion behind it and ofc you still have that today but i feel it's... Rarer and back then I feel it was still experimental but that's what made it so great, now there are so many copy cats and it feels like a race to which one can be the next lottery... and I know they're all companies BUT LIKE at least I could feel my money was well spent you know?!

Now it's feels like, "we have your money AND you have shitty rushed half-baked product, you're welcome"

If only Llyod could have made it into Super Smash Bros Melee at the time, I feel it could have helped the Tales of popularity even more OTL I remember reading somewhere he was considered to be added to the roaster but maybe it was rumors too... But the thought of it is so cool. I rly don't think it's for nothing TOV and TOS keep getting so high in popularity polls when it comes to general Tales Of games, those two are really memroable and beautiful.

TOS almost feels like the blueprint for TOV to me, so they are very similar but different enough as well. I must have played TOS on my gamecube at least 10 times in my whole life and everytime my gameplay reaches 60h-80h+hours, it's just so much fun everytime

aaa but yeah.. all that to say I just wish it could get the remake of a lifetime so more poeple could experiment it too OTL I don't think it'll ever happen but yeah.... If only if only if only...

and lowkey so i would have more poeple to talk and gush about it.

#delete later #tales of symphonia #tales of vesperia #why is tov always on discount at like 12$ but that one time i reaaally wanted ot finally get it i got it at the full 64$#ARE YOU KIDDING ME #but at least i played like 130h+ so that makes up for it imo hahaaa #Sheena is still my favorite #WHY DOESN'T SHE HAS A BEAUTIFUL HIGH QUALITY FIGURINE TOO #llyod colette and zelos do #ehh SHEENA IS ON THE MAIN COVER TOO #HELLOO aaa my beautiful girl OTL #if i ahd all the moeny in the world #i would finance the remake of it hahaa

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greenleaf4stuff · 24 days ago

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Of Convenience 10.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 10th snippet, part 1. The alliance moves their forces to the city and manages to gain entry. Celebrimbor finds himself confronted with a problem he did not anticipate.

So, this is the (pre-)ultimate chapter of this multi-part adventure of mine. Fear not, I am planning on writing a little epilogue as I am uploading part 10. I still can’t believe I’ve come so far. Thank you guys again for your continued support, your comments, your reblogs and likes, your messages. It means so very much. Also, an additional thank you to @plotdesigner for giving me some pointers for this snippet and cheering me on! That being said, enjoy the (almost) final leg of this journey! <3

Celebrimbor had to admit, he had feared getting into Eregion to be a far more difficult, far bloodier endeavour than it ended up being.

Then again, the combined armies that had marched on Ost-In-Edhil must have looked quite impressive from the city itself – the riders from Lindon were at the front, flanking the High King as well as Elrond, Galadriel, Celebrimbor and Adar. After them came what appeared to be an endless sea of uruk warriors, hundreds if not thousands of them, following close behind.

From what Celebrimbor could see of the city guards, they were all decidedly shaken, mouths hanging open in obvious shock as they shouted warnings amongst themselves, but none of them dared to sound a direct attack.

No archers sent deadly arrows their way. No stones were thrown from the city walls as the elven-uruk troops came close.

The alliance reached the gates without encountering any resistance.

What followed was an exchange between the poor head of the city watch, Gil-Galad and Adar, with the guard’s voice audibly shaking as he tried to deny entry to both the High King of the Elves and his entourage as well as the Lord Father of the uruk with his giant army.

"Lord Annatar has expressly forbidden us from opening the gates – to anyone!" he declared.

Gil-Galad huffed and squared his back, regal as Celebrimbor had ever seen him. "Lord Annatar is not who he claims to be. And even if he were indeed an emissary of the valar, he has no right to forbid me from gaining entry to this city. Open the gates!"

"He has told me that you would believe Lord Celebrimbor, who has abandoned Eregion to conspire with the orcs," a growl from Adar, "in a fit of madness; I reassure you, my king, Lord Annatar has no ill intentions, he has merely been framed. And fears for the safety of the people of Eregion, hence our orders to keep the gates shut."

A pause, during which Celebrimbor could hear both Adar and Galadriel curse under their breaths. He himself had clenced his hands at his sides, quietly fuming at how brazenly their common enemy was yet twisting the truth, how he still kept Ost-In-Edhil under his spell.

The smith only hoped the three elven rings might begin to ease this foul sorcery; Narya, the last of the three, had been brought to Adar’s camp just this morning by none other than Círdan. While worried, the shipwright held a deep conviction that those rings would turn the tide against Sauron and his influence – just as Adar did.

Elrond, who had given Nenya back to Galadriel just after Celebrimbor’s outburst, now held Narya. As Círdan had claimed, Elrond’s skeptical outlook towards these rings made him the most qualified to wear one into battle. The herald, as torn as he had appeared at the suggestion, had ultimately accepted it and now wore the trinket on the middle finger of his right hand.

Celebrimbor felt the subtle touch of another arm against his own, just the pressure of one limb against another. As he looked to the side, he found the face of his husband turned towards him; the smith released his clenched fists at the other’s look, and tried to relax. While Adar tried to keep the look on his face neutral in front of their opposition, it was a reassurance to have his attention.

The elf risked a small smile of thanks and, when that seemed to satisfy the uruk, they turned back towards the head of Eregion’s city watch.

"I have talked to Celebrimbor," Gil-Galad answered, and his voice was beginning to take on a more impatient tone. "He is neither mad nor has he framed anyone. He’s fled this city because he discovered that your Lord Annatar is, in fact, not a giver of gifts but an enemy of all things in middle earth, and I believe his words."

"He is Sauron!" Celebrimbor couldn’t help but add, and stared at directly at the head of the watch, who likely hadn’t recognized him until then. They were all wearing helmets and armor, safe for Adar, who – despite urging from Celebrimbor and the other elves – had refused a helmet. To say that this circumstance was keeping the smith on edge would be putting it mildly.

"Tirithion," Celebrimbor pleaded – he knew this elf, who came from a line of guardsmen and whose forebears had served the house of Feanor. "I know not what he has told you and the others about me, before or after I fled the city, but you do know me – I would never abandon Eregion willingly, not unless I was forced to do so. In your heart, you know this, I am sure of it."

Tirithion looked unsure, now, as he looked at Celebrimbor. He faltered. "M...my lord- I-" He made one last, valiant effort to stand his ground. "That is impossible. He cannot be-"

"Listen to yourself," and this time, it was Adar who had spoken up. Celebrimbor sucked in a breath, and turned towards his husband. The other looked as impatient, nay, angry as Gil-Galad had sounded earlier. "You are arguing with your own lord despite your better judgement. Let me tell you this, too, because I would have had no reason to believe baseless lies – the one in your midst is your enemy, and he is in fact the one who has lied to all of you."

"Your lord speaks the truth. He only wishes to save and protect you. Do not try and turn him away now."

"Open the gates," this was Gil-Galad again. "We will not ask again. I do not wish to besiege my own people, but I also won’t leave Ost-In-Edhil under the enemy’s control one moment longer. It is up to you, now, guard – to decide whether or not there will be bloodshed."

Again, Tirithion hesitated. It was, at last, Adar’s words which began to break his resistance. "Take a look around. The High King of Lindon stands before your city, with his army ready to fight for him. And I have brought mine as well – you cannot possibly hope to resist the force of both. Do not risk your people for some lies."

The guard narrowed his eyes at Adar. "And who are you, then, to so brazenly demand entry, orc?"

The smirk on Adar’s face was audible in his voice. "My name is Adar, Lord Father of the uruk. And I am in an alliance with your High King, for the purpose of driving Sauron from of your city," A pause. "And since he has fled your city, I have become the husband of your Lord Celebrimbor. Therefore, I demand entry not just to his city – but mine."

The guard seemed to finally deflate under the intense scrutiny. "Times must indeed be dire, if the elves and the orcs are willing to attack this city together," the smith heard one of the other guards mutter.

And then, "My lord," the guard was addressing Celebrimbor. "Are you certain that is what you wish? For us to open our doors to a hoard of-"

"Uruk," Celebrimbor interjected before the Tirithion could finish his sentence. He nodded empathically. "Yes, I am certain that I want you to open these gates for my friends and my husband. Please, Tirithion."

A moment of silence, a heavy sigh, and then, "You heard our lord. Open the gates!"

Relief flooded Celebrimbor for a brief moment, even as it was mixed with dread.

The feeling ended up tipping into confusion instead when, as the gates opened and he made to walk into his city, he found an arm blocking his way. When the elf turned to Adar, there was a look of determination on the uruk’s face.

Which was how Celebrimbor came to find out that his friends and his husband had decided that he would not join them in their fight against Sauron. Without consulting him.

"Don’t be absurd!" Celebrimbor wasn’t often indignant, but this certainly felt like the right time for it. "Of course I will."

"No," Adar said. He’d fully turned to Celebrimbor, who stood in a circle of his friends, looking at each of them incredulously. "It is too much of a risk. You are not a fighter. The only outcome for you would be for you to get caught, or worse."

"If he gets his hands on you," Galadriel argued, touching the smith’s shoulder, "Then all of middle earth will be lost. We cannot let that happen."

"This is my city," Celebrimbor seethed. "I have just as much of a right to see this through as any of you. Maybe I am not the commander of the northern armies, but I can wield a sword or a bow just fine. I want to- I need to help."

Gil-Galad spoke up next. "This is not up for discussion."

As Celebrimbor sought out Elrond in the hopes of finding an ally in him at least, the herald squared his jaw and turned his face to the ground. It was clear he wasn’t of the same mind as the others, at least not exactly. But he also wouldn’t argue with his king. "I am sorry, my friend. Their reasoning is sound. You’d be of more use to us behind the frontlines."

When the smith tried to argue once again, he suddenly felt another hand on his shoulder. As he turned back around, Adar was looking at him imploringly. "We need someone to stay behind in case we fail. Someone who can lead both the elves and the uruk to safety, or into an attack, should the rings and the sword not be enough."

Celebrimbor drew a shuddering breath. "That is nonsense. I am not a tactician-"

"I trust you," the smith blinked at those words, momentarily struck mute as Adar stepped closer towards him and grabbed his other shoulder as well. "Unlike any other. Enough that I will place the safety of my children in your hands, for I know you have come to care for them enough to safely guide them away if the worst should come to pass."

It was a sobering confession, and one that threatened to undo the elf’s resistance to the shared decision of the others.

But he feared for them, and he had promised himself especially after whatever had passed between himself and Adar the day before, that he would see to it that none of them perished in this battle. Especially not his husband.

Not before he could- not before he found the words that had failed him the day before.

However, the smith knew further arguing would not help him in that regard. Gil-Galad would forbid him, and his own city guards, his friends and his husband would likely watch him be escorted back to the relative safety of the uruk camp.

He could see Glûg and Gurlak as he peered over Adar’s shoulder. The two were exchanging dubious glances. Glûg, especially, seemed to shoot daggers at the back of his Lord Father’s head with his eyes.

It gave the smith an idea. Daring, yes, but he’d managed to slink his way out of the custody of his own guards before. He’d defied the Deceiver himself, and escaped. He could do it again.

The smith lowered his gaze, struggled with himself – and then affected a slump to his shoulders and a deep sigh, before he looked up again with what he hoped was a convincingly contrite expression. He stared at Adar from beneath his lashes as he said. "I...you are right. I’m sorry."

The other’s expression was too skeptical for his liking, so he laid it on a bit thicker. "You are all right. I am no fighter. I only...I wish I could come with you, to help protect and aid you in your fight. But if you need me to stand down and watch from afar, to make sure our troops can withdraw if worst comes to worst-"

He shuddered as the thought sent a wave of terror through him. He had to fight to get out his next words. "Then I will do that, and I support you this way."

It took a moment, but finally, Adar nodded at him. He squeezed Celebrimbor’s shoulders, and then let one of his hands sink to the elf’s elbow, where he did the same. "I know. You are already helping us – this sword and these rings, they are your doing. Your protection. They are the reason we will win this fight."

Celebrimbor had to bite his lip and nod to hold back his retort, but managed to hide it behind a facade of concern and resignation. "Just promise me you will be careful – all of you. That you will return."

As he looked around himself, they all nodded at his request, but none spoke the promise aloud. It was damning to witness, and again, the smith had to fight to keep his tongue in check.

"Go now," Adar said, and gently pushed the elf in the direction of the forest. "Gurlak! Assemble a group and take Celebrimbor back to the camp."

Then he turned towards her, too. "Listen to his orders. Make sure the others do as well. If anything happens to me- he is my husband. My army is his. He will take care of you and lead you to safety."

Gurlak’s face was completely expressionless, but Celebrimbor guessed that she was as unhappy as he himself felt. "Yes, Lord Father," she simply replied. "Let us hope it won’t be neccessary for him to lead us; no offense intended." The last part was said towards the smith.

"None taken," Celebrimbor answered. He let Adar and Gurlak have their goodbye, and turned to his friends to see them off as well.

"I’m sorry," Elrond whispered to him as they hugged.

"I know."

Finally, the group went to make their way into the city, accompanied by a large group of elves and uruk who were streaming into the city to ensure none of the citizens would interfere in the proceedings. Adar was the last of them, and he turned back to look at Celebrimbor. The elf himself was just getting ready to be walked back to camp.

"Take care," Adar asked him.

"Live," Celebrimbor replied. And then, because he couldn’t help himself. "Come back to me."

Adar seemed to falter for a moment. His face was going through several emotions, too quickly for Celebrimbor to name them, but ultimately caught himself and just said, "I will try."

The elf smiled, sadly, and nodded. It was perhaps the best he could ask for in this moment. Turning his back on the other and asking Gurlak to take him back to the camp felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done, and Celebrimbor felt Adar’s eyes on his back even as the smith and his uruk guardians finally began trudging towards the woods they’d come from.

If a tear slipped Celebrimbor’s eye, and he rubbed it away as he determinedly squared his shoulders, no one but him and Gurlak would have to know.

"Gurlak," he quietly asked her as they walked. She thew him a quizzical look.

"Could we take a slight detour through the forest over there?" He subtly pointed his chin, in case anyone was still watching them.

Her resulting expression was one of confusion, but she nodded. "Sure. Why?"

"Because I got an idea," he willed his face to convey what he did not dare to speak in words, at least not while they were so close to the city still, where someone might overhear.

Judging by her intrigued look, and the raising of her eyebrows, he had managed. "Well. You usually have good ideas," she replied. The smirk that grew on her face was mischievous. "Let’s see where this one takes us."

Despite the circumstances, Celebrimbor felt a small smile steal onto his face in response. He nodded back at the uruk, and allowed for hope to grow in his chest once more.

#that poor city guard - another elf to experience some of the weirdest moments of his entire life #yes I literally named the poor sod “guard son”. I will make no excuses. I am just terrible at coming up with elf names.#also not Brimby fumbling the landing in the last part only for Adar to basically do something similar this time T_T #these two dorks will be the end of me I swear #of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine #political marriage trope #marriage of convenience trope

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autumnslance · 3 months ago

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Dawntrail OST - Smile Official Lyrics

(Got my CD today, any transcript errors are mine)

Music: Masayoshi Soken Arrangement: TomoLow, Masayoshi Soken Lyrics: Michael-Christopher Koji-Fox, Phil Bright Lyrical Concept: Natsuko Ishikawa, Tomohiro Kawasaki, Magumi Onozuka Lyric Translation: Natsuko Ishikawa Vocals: AKINO from bless4

At the crossroads, standing here Not a star in the sky to guide me tonight Left for lost, and lost in fear Deep in darkness drown my cries

All this pain inside of me Don't know where it starts or when it'll end Try and tame the agony As I close my eyes and scream to the wind

Look around and find I'm standing all alone (Look again, we're standing there) 'Cause the storm has taken everything I've known (Leaving loss you needn't bear) Don't know why I thought I'd make it by myself (After all that we've been through) Out of time, I'm runnin' blind. Can't somebody help? (Know we're always there for you)

Learned so much in life I couldn't understand (Understand we're by your side) Standing tall we'll face tomorrow hand in hand (Mine in yours and yours in mine) Weaving mem'ries, through the warp and weft we wend (This, our tale, a tapestry) Never losin' sight of everywhere that we've been (And everywhere we're gonna be)

In lightning's wake did naught but ash remain Yet with the rain, does life's song ring again O'er ancient forests, out beyond the plains It carries on, we'll carry on, whoa

So smile and let the rainbow sing (Red and yellow, blue and green) Alive with everything it brings (Laughter, peace, and harmony) We walk a neverending trail (In our hearts, we carry hence) One love, no, it shall never pale (This is our inheritance)

I turn around and what do I see? (Turn around and there we'll be) A light that guides our way to the key (Do you still remember me?) A silent flame that burns ever bright (What you've lost you won't forget) To see us forward out of the night ('Til tomorrow comes and then…)

Tight! Seize the day and hold on tight The sun is risin' Life, take it slow and take a bite

So high, on the dawn we set our sights A new horizon Fly, ever forward, starry-eyed

Hold tight, this land we call our home (Built upon a common dream) We fight to never let it go (Arm-in-arm, we still believe) Of fire, we have not seen the last (And the storm on which it rides) We'll rise again once it has passed (All for one, we march in stride)

And if you think you're ready to fly (I'll lift you up and carry you) We'll spread our wings and take to the sky (There is nothing we can't do) Come wipe away the tears in your eyes (What we've lost we won't forget) Together for the rest of our lives ('til tomorrow comes and then…)

The path ahead is steep And from the heavens the gods shall grant no relief Still we go on, we carry on, oh Never can we stop Never can we stop

Here come together, this land we'll defend Now and forever, for we won't end

#final fantasy xiv #Dawntrail #music #lyrics #Smile #Masayoshi Soken #Akino

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glorious-sunset · 1 year ago

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LBFAD is the most inspiring series I have ever watched and here is why…

Although Love Between Fairy and Devil (LBFAD) only caught my eye on Netflix in December 2023, I’m so glad it did and that I didn’t miss out on this stunning and thought-provoking masterpiece. It is the most inspiring series I have ever watched for many reasons. Aesthetically, I found the beautiful 4K production quality as enjoyable as high-budget productions such as Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones. I frequently felt the need to pause and admire the well-designed sets, and exquisitely detailed costumes of even minor characters. The acting is superb across the board, and the leads act and respond very naturally to each other. The long hair of male characters is especially well-done, falling naturally with subtle highlights and looks real. All these details breathe life into this fantasy world and make it very realistic.

Every line of each song from the phenomenal OST is brimming with hidden meanings related to the series, adding lots of additional context! The artwork created for the opening and ending sequences is also full of meaning (minor spoilers ahead). Take, for example, the last picture where the OTP are sitting on a boat in the Oblivion River, the junction between their two tribes, the male lead has removed his crown and hence his responsibilities at least for the moment, and they are watching the sunrise together for the rest of eternity after the close of the series (sigh!)

Every single character of note in the series goes through profound character growth, the only exception being the abstract ultimate villain Taisui. Even the secondary villains and dictator of Shuiyuntian have grown and changed their perceptions by the end. It made me believe that anyone is capable of opening their minds and bettering themselves. Both lead and side characters are repeatedly faced with overwhelmingly bleak choices and heartbreaking challenges, especially in the last ten episodes. Yet every time, they show courage, sacrifice and selfless love that is amazing and very inspiring.

It is rare to find this kind of poignance in any production. I used to find Game of Thrones inspiring due to Daenerys freeing the world of slavery…until Season 8 happened. LBFAD tops Game of Thrones in this regard by freeing two distinct realms from conflict. The actions of the OTP break through a hundred millenia of mutual hatred and relentless conflict between their people with no end in sight, to create a new dawn of lasting peace. LBFAD reminds me of Lord of the Rings in terms of its cinematographic beauty and themes of never losing hope and prevailing over overwhelming odds. However, the stronger focus of LBFAD on the lead couple’s development and on creating multidimensional villains and side characters made it, for me, more engaging to watch.

The world-building and depth of characters has many layers in LBFAD, to the extent that much of the context was clear to me only in retrospect on rewatching the series and on deep reflection. The fast pace of the series also means that a lot of action occurs off-screen in between scenes. There are no filler scenes, there is no room for them. Every scene adds new plot twists and depth to characters, making the series highly addictive.

I am not a native mandarin speaker, and came to realise how beautiful the language is only on encountering LBFAD and its OST. It inspired me to learn mandarin, which makes rewatching the series highly enjoyable as I am able to pick up new nuances. I’m embarrassed to be late to watch LBFAD after its release in August 2022, but have thoroughly enjoyed the posts on Tumblr from fellow fans, including enthralling artwork, meta and links to fanfiction. It has encouraged me to post on Tumblr myself. I have started to post my interpretations of artwork, mandarin names, xianxia concepts, and story-format reflections on each episode. I am thrilled to be a part of this wonderful community!

Links to some of my other LBFAD articles:

Character Names in LBFAD - Meaning and Significance

Location Names in LBFAD - Meaning and Significance

LBFAD Opening Artwork - Hidden Meanings

Here is a link to my episode 1 review (contains spoilers). All of my LBFAD articles and episode reviews can be viewed with the tag #lbfad reflections (hyperlinked) and the table of contents to these is here.

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ebbsea · 2 months ago

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finished datv - this is pretty long, oops

[shoutout to bystander ghostzzy who witnessed the hit and run that was this game.]

well. the game felt without teeth, no bite. datv was wrought by a long dev-cycle, a slew of firings, and several rewrites, but i put cynicism aside because i genuinely wanted to give it a chance. unfortunately, it started going downhill pretty quickly from there.

i want to be fair, so i will start with my personal positives:

-robust character customization

-the locations were very beautiful, there were times where i just wanted to stop and soak up the visuals

-the actual gameplay was very fluid and quick, and the rhythm once you find it was fun

-i liked the solas memories, and some more insights into felassan

-i liked that your character could be explicitly trans, but it was so jarring to hear the words trans and non-binary in this setting. i think they did it so there would be no room for plausible deniability, but it still felt so out of place. we understood what it meant when dorian said he preferred the company of other men instead of using more modern terminology. also if someone misgendered me and started doing pushups i would feel so embarrassed for them.

-there were moments where i did feel endeared to characters, even if briefly

now onto the stickier points.

i can not get over the lack of worldstates. it also puts such a sour taste in my mouth that they waited so long to announce there wouldn't be any. it gives veilguard the feeling of being grafted on.

pacing was weird, companion quest beats were at times out of place. some moments did not feel adequately built up or often had us going "that's it?"

man, oh man, do i miss trevor morris' touch. years later i still listen to the dai ost for drawing or walking/biking, and i just do not feel the same compulsion for datv's score.

the chantry has always been a presence in these games, and they're just gone. they were practically breathing down your neck in games previous - where are they now?

i was expecting to be able to go to minrathous' "high town" so to speak. we don't see any slaves or any other magisters. we don't see the black divine. it feels like they were afraid to broach the subject. after years of talking up how corrupt and hard it is to navigate tevinter life, it's disappointing to not see it. additionally it was disappointing to not explore an actual rivaini city.

major lore reveals were treated with such a blase attitude. perhaps it is the ten years of anticipation, but the way it was presented was done so quickly and no one seemed to have much of a reaction.

i hated the waves of faceless enemies that were just evil for the sake of evil. the evanuris’ motivations just didn’t feel compelling. power for the sake of power, and nothing else. was also deeply disappointed in the lack of dread wolf elven movement and the cutting of espionage plots. wish we saw more groups aligning themselves with him, even if he was only just using them. it would have been interesting interacting with an antagonistic group that wasn't outright evil.

choices (or lack thereof)

i sure wish we had the ability to make more difficult choices throughout the game and to have to carry the weight of them. seeing the ruined base and the aftermath of a dragon attack was neat, but the decision itself felt hollow. having to wait until the point of no return to get anymore just made the lack of meaningful decisions before then more obvious.

izzy asked one of the best questions ever. why is rook in charge?

the other protagonists of the dragon age games were very clearly thrust into their role. there's a blight, a betrayal, and the warden and alistair are the only ones who can do something about it. da2 didn't have world ending stakes, but we were clearly following hawke and their contained story. the inquisitor has the anchor and many eyes on them. i think they wanted rook to be just some guy, but it just feels so strange. can't get past the why them feeling.

the game tries to posture rook and solas as equals, a mirror unto the other, but i didn't feel it. other than the faction blurb we start off with, rook is not given any other difficult decisions in which sacrifice is incurred (minrathous/treviso doesn't feel earned to me). the narrative is constantly reminding us that solas got his hands dirty in the pursuit of a goal, doing whatever it takes by any means necessary to achieve it. you would think they would give us more opportunities to make more challenging decisions.

the factions could have been more morally dubious, instead of this weird conflict-free sheen they all have. they all get the sparkling-eyed-rebel retcon. it feels like they’re trying to recapture the vibe of origins, but it shakes out differently. origins gives you the context of your character’s place in the world, and veilguard doesn't. there is no meaningful change we could make within the factions themselves. they feel redundant.

i like decisions where you really have to chew on what’s being offered to you. it doesn’t have to be between being a perfect angel and the mustache-twirlingly evil option. i didn't mind the minrathous v. treviso decision in theory, but it felt too soon. too uneven.

that in turn makes the replayability factor questionable as well. where are the major differences in choices? games previous you could play fully-fleshed out characters with enough variance to be distinct from each other. rook is just rook. no matter how you shake it.

companions

the found-family dynamic feels inauthentic, more forced-family. many moments of sentimentality/opening up feel completely unearned. it takes the fun out of getting to know the companions when they are ready to spill their hearts out from jump. i do miss that we can't be blunt or just sometimes outright mean to our companions or the world at large.

grossly lacking in character reactivity. part of the fun of dragon age is being presented with a choice, and experiencing your companions' various povs. even those who you get along with may have wildly different ideas and philosophies than you do.

there is no way you could miss out on any companions, just refuse to recruit them, get them kicked out, or have them leave autonomously. no one challenges you or your world view, and you can’t really do the same back. the companion quests got tedious after a certain point, and it quickly got exhausting when the bulk of them devolved into rook playing therapist. negatively impacting your companions isn’t something you do by choice, it’s only something that occurs with inaction. which, in a what's-supposed-to-be a choice-driven rpg, is a pretty boring way to negatively affect your companions’ stories.

maybe it’s misplaced nostalgia, but dao-dai companions were so human. sometimes their worldviews clashed with each other or your pc's, or they made terrible mistakes, and you had to decide whether or not you would stand by them or turn away from them. they had a choice to stand by or turn away from you.

in datv there is little friction. there is no human complexity. it’s impossible to get on anyone's bad side. they are seemingly always agreeable. they don't have uncomfortable or ugly facets to them. they don't feel like real people with their own sense of right and wrong. but we also don't have many situations where their values can be challenged. and what are the consequences? slower level ups?

taash's personal questline bothered me so bad. when a character's whole arc is about how they want to escape the binarism of gender, it comes off pretty condescending when, in practically the same breath, you enforce a binary choice on their culture. the choice between qun vs. rivaini comes off even more insidious when the qunari have been explicitly referred to as "islamic borg." it's implied that the non-qun choice is the "better" option. to have that juxtaposed side by side makes it that much more insulting. people have been critiquing the depiction of the qunari for over a decade at this point, so it's disheartening that they haven't paid attention to that criticism, to say the least.

lucanis. the world's softest beige-est pillow. he probably suffers the worst from flanderization - i started getting irritated with him and all his cafelitos. i expected spite to be a much more challenging character, but really it just felt like making sure the kid you’re babysitting doesn’t run out into the street.

i think the climax of emmrich's questline was the first character specific decision i actually really liked. i liked that neither choice was the "wrong" choice, if that makes sense. it reminded me of the cole spirit/human decision in inquisition.

neve's character arc felt thrown together, kind of meandering around a crooked line. i really like how dry she is and how hesitant she is to let go of the worst case scenario. but she she feels like an afterthought to the devs. playing with a hardened neve did not feel particularly different than when we met her earlier.

with bellara i could feel my interest diminishing as soon as her baby brother was revealed to be alive. as soon as cyrian's reintroduced, it becomes more about him than her. would have been cool to see her struggle with the choice instead of him. i kept seeing ghosts of merrill whenever i had her around.

davrin was the character that felt most dragon age to me. additionally he was probably the only one that felt like we were hanging out and connecting vs. being the team's in house therapist. that being said, it did get tedious having to go walk his puppydogbird so often. i wish we had more chances to talk to him about him though. he went into weisshaupt fully ready to die, and the conversation following that felt so lackluster. like we had to hurry up and pivot back to assan.

harding feels like she regressed maturity-wise. i do like how we get some dwarf-specific content, and some more titan info, but overall it felt like something was missing. also at the back end of her questline, she shares titan-visions with the kal-sharok dwarves, and playing as a dwarven rook had me sitting there like. i would also like to see it. hello.

i think my overall issue with the companion quests this time round is how passive they feel. it feels weird that rook has the final say-so in their lives. many of their personal quests don't connect to the main issue at hand, which, when we are supposedly at the behest of a ticking clock, messes with the sense of urgency. i like the companions well enough, they just don't quite itch my brain. it could be a matter of needing more time to think on them, but this is based off first impressions.

the varric twist was goofy. we kept saying he should have died on those stairs and i guess he did but huh. he never left the room, and we immediately attributed it to bad writing instead of hinting towards a twist. we just assumed they only wanted to pay brian bloom for a day's work and didn't bother to record enough lines for him. easy to dismiss as a cheap nostalgia grab, especially when the other cameos (isabela, morrigan, dorian) illicted the same feeling of seeing those folks in cheap mascot suits.

my only real hope for this game was that it would tie up the story in a neat bow. that we would have satisfying closure before moving on - from dragon age altogether or perhaps to a different era in thedas. but with what we were given, i don't know. classic gnawing feeling of is that all? i did start off feeling very hopeful, and there were moments that did shine through to me, but eh. eh. /minor pet peeve but i don't like the trend of always upping the stakes for each installment (if i get into the executors i will simply pass away).

i don't know what would have fixed this game. it's clear from the info in the artbook that they really wanted to do more. and the waves of firings, and having to pivot so many times came at the expense of the quality of the story. headcanons can only carry you so far. when you have to fill in all of the empty gaps with your own load-bearing headcanons, there is a problem. it’s fun to extrapolate on what’s there, but it feels hollow in this instance. i have always had nitpicks with certain details of the dragon age world, but this game really knocked the wind out of my sails. i'm not looking forward to what comes next. maybe i just need time to let it all marinate, but my gut says no.

i still have a lot of love in my heart for dragon age. but still.

overall disappointing.

#believe it or not i have trimmed the fat considerably off of these ramblings #why did my brain have to fixate on dragon age why couldn't i be obsessed with taxes or something smh #i could 'and another thing' this to death but i need to excise this. honey time for dragon age bloodletting. yes dear #genuinely still love dragon age. not packing the bindle yet. just pacing around #datv spoilers #veilguard critical #just in case ig

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marshmellin · 2 months ago

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Star and Stone, Ch. 6 | Preparations

In one swift motion, he lowered his head and kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or uncertain. She had quite literally landed in his lap, and in doing so, erased his hesitation. The soft silk of her dress felt cool as his hand slid to her hip, but he could feel the heat of her skin as he pulled her closer.

They had kissed several times by now. Tender moments under the stars. A stolen embrace in his study.

That was not this.

Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I try to be as canon-compliant as possible except for the whole 'keeping Gil-galad alive part.' No beta, we die like Mirdania.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

You are here -> Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

"...and if the request from King Oropher had been handled with diplomacy instead of arrogance, perhaps we would not be questioning alliances at such a crucial hour!" Ristarion’s voice rang out, his hand slamming down on the polished table for emphasis.

Gil-galad paused just inside the door, eyes sweeping over the council. Elrond sat stone-faced, arms crossed, while Arminas leaned back casually in his chair, observing but remaining silent. The other lords and advisors around the table shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing between Ristarion and the High King.

“It seems we have already begun,” Gil-galad said as he took his place at the head of the table. “Lord Ristarion, was there a point you wished to raise?” He cocked an eyebrow.

If I have to hear about grain one more fucking time…

“The king of Greenwood feels ignored, his needs cast aside in favor of Lindon’s priorities. Your priorities,” Ristarion said, his voice tinged with implied blame.

Fantastic. We’re all going to die because I can not make crops grow in winter.

Gil-galad could feel, rather than see, the I told you so look that was blooming on Elrond’s face. But, Gil-galad had become quite accustomed to the expression, so he did not need the reminder.

“Do you suggest that the loyalty of the Sindarin realms is so fragile that a single rebuke threatens it?” he asked, his voice even, spreading his hands.

“I suggest,” Ristarion said, his tone hardening, “that you do not have their loyalty. To them, you are but another elven king among many – a high king, but not their high king.”

“And you, alone, can earn their loyalty?” Gil-galad asked, leaning back in his chair.

Ristarion snapped back, his voice rising slightly. “I can speak plainly without Noldorin pride clouding my meaning.”

Most of the lords here are Noldo, in whole or in part. His eyes flicked to Elrond, whose face all but glared his disapproval at this conversation taking place in his council hall.

So Ristarion isn’t interested in making friends here.

Ristarion pressed on. “Oropher and Amdír are hesitant. Their people whisper: when have the Noldor truly stopped the darkness? They brought this evil back.”

An angry murmur passed through the room.

Gil-galad’s gaze never wavered, but he cocked his head. “As you say, I do expect hesitation from the Sindarin realms to declare an alliance for open war.” His voice softened dangerously and steel entered his brown eyes. “The Sindar have always done well by hiding behind their walls. Until their walls fall.”

Ristarion did not miss the insult, but Gil-galad pressed on. “I recognize I ask much of them, though I am ‘but another elven king,’ but know that I do not ask it lightly.”

Ristarion’s jaw was set, his eyes ablaze. He met Gil-galad’s threat. “Is dry wit and paperwork the only blade you offer them?”

The silence that followed was heavy. Elrond scowled, his displeasure almost making his hair vibrate with anger. Arminas, his dark eyes fixed on Ristarion’s, moved his hand to rest on the hilt of the dagger at his belt—an unsubtle gesture declaring: No. Wit is not the only blade my high king offers.

Gil-galad felt a headache threatening to form behind his eyes. We are not all of us from the House of Fëanor. No bloodshed in this hall. At the very least.

Posture relaxed, his hands rested lightly on the table, his voice cold. “Your boldness is noted, Lord Ristarion. If you believe you can succeed with the Sindarian realms where others have failed, then by all means, make your overtures. But do not mistake my allowance for approval.”

Ristarion’s expression darkened, but he inclined his head. “As you command, High King. I will accomplish what must be done.”

Gil-galad’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, weighing his options. Elaniel’s suggestion to bring Aeglos to council meetings seemed more and more appealing.

Or I could let Arminas loose at the man and be done with it.

Instead of pulling out a blade, he chose a different weapon. He turned to Elrond, gesturing for the meeting to continue.

“My lords,” Elrond said, his face still flushed with anger but his tone diplomatic as he shuffled maps and stacks of reports on the polished stone surface. “Perhaps we can revisit the specifics of diplomatic efforts with Kings Oropher and Amdír in a future session.”

The rest of the meeting proceeded awkwardly, the undercurrent of tension distracting every advisor present. As the council adjourned, Ristarion lingered for a moment, his eyes cold as they met Gil-galad’s before he swept out of the room.

Gil-galad stood at the head of the long table, his broad fingers tracing the cool edge of the polished stone as he stared at the doorway where Rastarion had exited. Elrond moved around the table to stand next to him, his shoulders tense. Gil-galad acknowledged him with a tilt of his head. ”Do you think Oropher or Amdír had a hand in this? Or is Ristarion acting on his own?”

Elrond all but shrugged, expression thoughtful as he followed Gil-galad’s eyes to the door. “I do not know why he plays this game or what he gains from it, but I think he seeks to back you into a corner— whatever corner he can find. And the divisions of our kin run deep.”

Elven memories do not dim. And some wounds do not heal.

Gil-galad nodded. “And that is what troubles me most. If he undermines the fragile trust between our realms, it will not stop there. The Men who look to us will see our divisions and begin to doubt us as well.”

His eyes darkened at the thought.

Why will no one listen?

This is our only way forward.

In a place of honor in Gil-galad’s private study, near a large arched window that overlooked the palace gardens, stood a new addition: a drafting table, its smooth, wooden surface gleaming in the dying sunlight. It was new, the scent of freshly carved maple lingering in the room.

It was not a standard drafting table; it had been tailored for Elaniel. In her workshop, she had nailed a scrap piece of wood with some simple dividers as a makeshift way to keep items she used most close at hand. Now, the dividers were built into the top of the desk, each container hand-carved with patterns of stars — a much more ornate solution.

Elaniel stood before it now, her fingers lightly tracing the curved edge of the table, her eyes gleaming as she took in the drafting tools, filed in a neat row. “It is beautiful. You did not have to go to so much trouble, Ereinion,” she breathed, turning to face him.

The knot in his chest tugged again. He could not stop looking at her, at the open joy on her face as her fingers brushed lightly against the polished wood. The gratefulness in her tone, the way her cheeks burned cherry-red. The way she softly murmured his name.

He thought his heart would hammer through his chest.

“No, I did not,” Gil-galad replied, forcing his voice to stay steady. “But I found I wished to do so. For you. This is my” – our – “private study, which is” – secluded and secret – “guarded as part of my chambers. I thought I could offer” – a place for us to finally be alone together – “another space that is not so public. I decided to make this space” - good enough for you - “fitting for your craft.”

She turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “Are you suggesting my humble workshop is unfit?”

“Not unfit,” he teased, tilting his head as walked toward her, smile blooming across his face. “But perhaps…your tools have minds of their own, ilmarë. They do seem to travel...”

Elaniel laughed as he scooped up her hands in his, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “I can not be held accountable for where they wander. Perhaps they seek creative inspiration. Who am I to stop them?”

He placed a chaste kiss against her knuckles, smiling broadly as she took her seat at the desk. He walked to his own as they settled in to their late afternoon routine.

“You’ve been busy,” she said after a moment, her tone casual. “I have not seen you in over a week.”

“As have you,” he countered gently. “Elrond tells me your review of the southern watchtower’s safety protocols was meticulous.”

“It’s necessary,” she murmured without looking up from her work. “I have no intention of letting small oversights lead to larger problems.”

He nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. “Alenya has spoken highly of you as well. She mentioned how often you visit the watchtowers to speak with the workers directly.”

Elaniel smiled. “Alenya has become a friend. She convinced me to join her for sparring practice —though I suspect she was simply curious how much of a fight I’d put up.”

Gil-galad’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “And? How did you fare?”

“I held my own,” she said with a laugh. “Barely. I know she used a light hand.”

“It pleases me that you stayed standing,” he said, a note of pride in his tone. “Though I wish I had the chance to observe you. It would only have been fair, after the last session…”

She turned her head over her shoulder to peek at him, eyes bright. “Maybe next time. I do not have armor or experience – I can not put on the same type of show that you can, morconinya.” She paused, turning back to her desk. “Yet, there are other skills I think I would fare better at. Perhaps we can learn them together.”

He felt his face heat again and he started organizing a stack of correspondence on his desk, hiding his joy at the way she said the name she made for him. Only for him. And at her implication.

If we are deciding to learn new skills….

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire burning low in the hearth. Elaniel perched happily on a stool near the drafting table, pulling a blank sheet of parchment from a stack and smoothing it out with practiced hands. Gil-galad settled into his desk nearby, carefully picking up a quill to write a reply to a note from Anarion of Arnor.

The evening stretched on in the quiet sanctuary of the study. Surrounded by the warmth of firelight and the soft rustle of parchment, they found something rare and precious: a moment of peace.

“Do you realize what they say about you?” she asked, her tone mischievous as she spun her chair to face him.

Gil-galad paused, glancing at her with a confused expression. “Who?”

He could feel that quiet peace they had built shattering, but he found did not care. The correspondence could wait…

“Oh, everyone,” she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “I hear things around Lindon.” She pretended to assess him, setting her pencil down. “I confess, I do not know if all I hear is true.”

He laughed, the deep sound bouncing off the walls of the study. “And what things do you hear from everyone? That I have a tendency to chastise ambassadors? Because I assure you, that was necessary...”

Elaniel moved to the chair next to his desk, settling cross-legged on the velvet cushion, arranging her deep blue skirts on her lap. She tapped a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Mmm, nothing about that. I have heard that your hair shimmers in the darkest hours of night because the Valar granted you a gift – you can absorb the radiance of the stars. I am told this is how you received the name Gil-galad, but I confess the story does get murky from there.”

He sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair as if to shield it from scrutiny. “That is not how-- it is hair. Normal hair.”

Elaniel smiled again, her tone still teasing as she reached out to play with a few long stands that had fallen over his shoulder. “Ah-ah, I have not inspected it thoroughly and it is not yet the deep night, so I can neither confirm nor deny the claim. And anyway, why ruin the mystery? Alenya told me she overheard two soldiers debating whether your crown is enchanted to make you appear more graceful. And taller,” she added as an afterthought.

Gil-galad tilted his head, allowing her to brush her hands along his neck, sweeping the rest of his hair over his shoulder. Her fingers carded through the dark strands gently and he leaned toward her, chasing the feel of her hands without realizing it. “First starlit hair and now enchanted grace?”

“And height. According to some, yes, that is the report,” she said with mock seriousness, tucking a lock firmly behind his ear. He fought not to shudder at the touch as she traced her finger down his neck before returning to his hair. “I did not say that I endorsed these observations. I believe you come by your height honestly.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to let Círdan know I owe my ‘grace’ to him yelling at me for slouching when I was younger.” Her fingers brushed the tip of his ear again as she wound another strand around her finger and his eyes fluttered closed.

“After watching you spill a full inkpot in the workshop – all over my latest sketches and your own robes, may I add – I do not know that you should thank anyone for grace you do not have…”

“I find myself more prone to accidents around you than others, ilmarënín,” he said with an amused huff. “Though I can not imagine why I am so distracted—”

She moved fluidly, rising from her chair, and Gil-galad did not have time to register what she was doing before she was already sitting sideways in his lap. Elaniel gripped his forearms, steadying herself as her skirts cascaded across his legs, deep blue silk covering them both.

They both paused for a moment, grey eyes meeting brown. He could feel his heart pounding as he forced himself to breathe steadily, to ignore the heat starting to coil low in his stomach.

Elaniel grinned at him, her shoulders moving in a small shrug. Her cheeks were bright red, and that same lock of hair that always escaped her bun had fallen over her forehead.

And whatever thin thread of resolve he had snapped.

They had kissed several times by now. Tender moments under the stars. A stolen embrace in his study.

That was not this.

The fire cast flickering light around the room, making her eyes shine. He could feel her breath quicken as her arms wound around his shoulders, drawing herself up against him to kiss him again. Her hands tangled in his hair as she shifted her legs to bracket his thighs and now she was higher up than he was, craning down to grab his chin and tilt his head up for her. She moved like she was a wild thing finally released.

As she was, judging by the – quite pleasing – noises she made. Each time he touched her, hands roving over her back, her hips, her waist, up her sides, she moaned for him. Small, contented sounds from the back of her throat, humming into his skin. All he could focus on was learning how to make her moan again.

Elaniel had not stilled either, kissing down the column of his neck, fingers grazing his jaw. Breathing softly, she kissed his ear, nibbling gently on his earlobe before kissing her way to the tip of his ear. He rewarded her with a shuddering moan of his own, pulling her tighter against him. Her hips started to roll against him and he moaned again. He felt the tight heat in his core spread.

If I do not stop….I will not be able to stop.

To his own irritation, he pulled back first.

“It is late,” he whispered, craning back to look at her.

“I have time,” she whispered back playfully, her fingers still curled in his tunic. “And yet,” she sighed. “And yet you are right,” she whispered, planting a small kiss on his temple before untangling herself from him. He immediately missed the warm weight of her and he bit back a sigh. She let her fingers trail down his arm before calmly – how is she calm right now? – returning to her desk and picking up her pencil again.

He forced himself to pace his breathing as she tilted her head to look back at him. He was slouching in his chair with his tunic askew, hair tangled. He could tell he looked half-debauched.

Her eyes were still bright with mischief and something else. Something he had never seen in her before. “Do not become too accustomed to winning, morconinya.”

Gil-galad rode alone, the rhythmic clatter of hooves blending with the soft murmur of the river that ran alongside the path to the Grey Havens. Overhead, the cries of gulls echoed faintly. As he rounded a bend, his gaze drifted to one of the distant watchtower sites. The scaffolding looked delicate against the dense green of the forest, and he could see the builders at home with their craft. Pride swelled in him as he softly pulled his horse back to the trail. The watchtowers were beautiful, and they reminded him of her.

After following the trail up a small rise, Gil-galad entered the workshop, the familiar salt air surrounding him. The scent of cedar dust. A long table was spread with tools, curls of shaved wood littering the table.

One of the first places I found safety…

Círdan had always been a steady guide—a father in all but name. And while Gil-galad’s thoughts spun in circles, Círdan had always calmly pointed toward surefooted paths. He had a way to simplify the complex.

Círdan stood by the window, gazing out at the sea, his silver hair catching the light.

“You’re troubled, High King,” Círdan said without turning.

“I have been shattering the very alliances that I am tasked to create, unable to unify the elven realms, much less the kingdoms of Men. My political opponents are recklessly using the troubled history of Noldor and Sindar to drive division at the one time I need unity most. And because of it, we may all fall to darkness.” He paused. “Oh. And half of my days revolve around trade routes for grain.”

He heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, soft brown eyes vulnerable as he stared at the man who all but raised him. “Why would I be troubled, Círdan?”

Círdan turned, his eyes solemn but his voice light. “Anything else? Groundshakes? Invasion by the Dwarven kingdoms across the mountains? Have the Valar finally raised the sea?”

“If there is a checklist, all three are likely to be next.” Gil-galad sighed, stepping closer. He hesitated, running a hand through his dark hair. “The Sindarin elves. Or rather, Oropher and Amdír. They resist my efforts to unite us. And I…I would seek your counsel. Both as a mentor and as a leader of the Sindar. I cannot afford to lose their loyalty.”

Círdan gestured to two chairs by the window, where the sea breeze drifted through. Gil-galad obeyed, sitting heavily as his shoulders slumped, resignation in every line of his face.

Círdan studied him for a long moment. “You speak of loyalty? What does loyalty mean to you?”

The question gave Gil-galad pause. He frowned slightly. “Reliance. Confidence that they will stand with us and not abandon us when our need is greatest.”

“You speak as though you already know their choice, Erienion,” Círdan said, lowering himself into the other chair. “Have they given you cause to doubt them?”

“Not directly. But they do not hide their disdain for the Noldor. The wounds of the past run deep.”

Círdan’s expression softened. “What purpose does it serve to dwell on that past?”

“It serves to remind me why they refuse to offer me their loyalty now. They murmur that the Sindar realms will not trust a Noldo king.” Gil-galad frowned.

“Perhaps. But you can not stop being a Noldo, just as they can not stop being Sindar. Is your fight truly with them, I wonder? Who do you seek to defeat?”

Gil-galad blinked and his brow furrowed, surprised by the shift. “My fight is against Sauron.”

“Then do not make Oropher and Amdír your enemies,” Círdan said firmly, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. “Even if they doubt you, even if they disobey you. Your task is to stand against the Shadow. Do so, regardless of who stands with you.”

The words sank deep into Gil-galad’s chest, but he found a kernel of annoyance there. “I do not understand why they will not stand with me. I have offered them strength. Unity. Protection.”

“And still they hesitate,” Círdan said gently. “Because what you offer, they cannot yet see. The Noldor have made offers before...the Sindar remember.”

“I can not bear the sins of all the High Kings before me,” Gil-galad said quickly, irritation laced in his tone. “I have followed through on my promises. I have been true to my word in every way. What else must I do to show them I am not Fëanor?”

“You can listen,” Círdan replied simply, with a small shrug. “It is the one thing you have not yet done. Not just to Oropher or Amdír, but to those among their people who speak plainly. Elaniel, she is a Sindarin woman, yes? She seems to have a frankness about her, one shared by our kin.” Círdan’s eyes glittered.

And you know of her…..how do you know of her, old man?

I think he gossips with Ossë and Uinen through the waves.

Gil-galad smiled despite himself. “She does. Though I fear her temper and, ah, way with words can rival my own. She may not offer the most prudent political advice…and I will be tempted to take it anyway.”

“Temper can be tempered,” Círdan replied, his tone lightening. “And she seems to be learning that balance, from what Elrond has shared. Perhaps you could learn it too.”

Ah, so then nothing so poetic as Ossë and Uinen. Just gossiping with Elrond.

Of course it was Elrond…

Gil-galad’s own problematic (part) Maia.

“I think,” Círdan continued, “that she speaks to you with openness because she trusts you enough to do so. And because you have allowed her space to trust you. Perhaps it is time to offer the same space to the other elven kings.”

Gil-galad stilled, absorbing the advice. He found he often did not feel heard. Or certainly not heeded, despite carrying the burden and authority to lead.

Perhaps Oropher and Amdír felt the same.

The two sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them.

Finally, Círdan spoke again, his tone softer. “Ah, I did wish to tell you,” he smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “If you’re waiting for Ulmo himself to come out of the water and bid you to wed her, I must warn you, such sightings are extremely rare.”

Gil-galad blinked at the change in topic. "Wed her?" he repeated, as if the words themselves were in a different language. He quickly turned his gaze out toward the distant sea, as though it might offer him some escape from this conversation.

He knew it wouldn’t.

“I don’t…”

Círdan, ever calm, only raised an eyebrow. "It is written across your face, plain for all to see—though I imagine Elaniel sees more than the rest of us. Your next step is simple. So see it done.”

Still unable to meet his mentor’s eyes, Gil-galad sighed. "I care for her,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “Deeply. But the timing is…impossible. If I ask her to wed me, as I desperately wish to do, I’m unsure how to tell her to plan my funeral in the same breath. It is not simple.”

"And yet, it is simple," Círdan replied, tone unyielding. "Your heart is hers. Your choice is made. What action will you take?”

Gil-galad stared at his Círdan, his face lined with worry. “My fear is that no path I choose will…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I am unsure. What is best. For her.”

Círdan smiled, his eyes full of starlight as he clasped a hand to Gil-galad’s shoulder. “Ask her, Ereinion. Not what is best, but what she wishes. Do not choose for her. Choose with her.”

Gil-galad breathed in deeply, nodding his head. Círdan was right. Elrond was right. His heart told him it was right.

Why can I not simply allow it to happen?

With a deep inhale, Gil-galad stood. “Thank you, Círdan. As always, your words ring true. I will…consider it.”

All I ever do is consider it.

“There is one more thing…” Círdan rose swiftly, walking to his large desk in the corner. He grabbed a scrap of paper and began writing quickly. “Rúmil has some obscure collections of poetry focused quite intently on, ah, couples. I’ve written the names of some of the more tasteful volumes housed in your library. They may prove enlightening.”

Several thoughts bounced in Gil-galad’s head at once as he felt his eyebrows raise.

More tasteful volumes? There are less tasteful volumes?

Why does he know what books are in my library? Why do I not know what books are in my library?

…….are they illustrated?

“Ah.” Gil-galad kept his face impossibly still as he accepted the scrap of paper. Resisting the urge to glance at it, he tucked it into his robes as he turned to leave the workshop.

“Mae glenno, Ereinion,” Círdan called out as Gil-galad mounted his horse, his voice still tinged with amusement.

It was chaos.

Elaniel stood in the center of the village, roaring flames almost drowning out the relentless growls of approaching orcs. The air reeked of smoke and blood.

She moved through the wreckage of a crumbled wall, her face streaked with soot and resolve. A child cried out, cowering beneath a collapsed beam. Elaniel jerked around, glancing over her shoulder as the orcs closed in. Her eyes were steel as she dove toward the child, shielding their tiny form as a massive orc bore down on them both with a twisted, serrated blade.

“NO!” his voice carried, shrill and desperate against the crackling flames.

From a distance, Gil-galad reached out, but he could not reach her in time. She dissolved in front of him and he felt the world shift.

He was on a battlefield now, the ground beneath his feet littered with ash and mud and blood. He could hear the dying groans of Elves and Men around him, the grunts of orcs roving across the field to find and kill remaining survivors as dusk fell. A Man he did not recognize, but clearly a strong fighter with the bearing of a king, lay crumpled next to him. The blade of his sword was broken in pieces, the hilt falling from his hands.

A great shadow loomed over them — Sauron. His armor gleamed like blackened steel in the dying light. Something bright glowed in his hand.

Gil-galad spun Aeglos in an arc, sharp blades whirling as he aimed for a joint in the Shadow’s armor, but he was not fast enough. A gauntleted hand snatched out, gripping Gil-galad by the throat, lifting him in the air. He could not breathe as the metal seared into him, as the silver plates of his armor melted through his gambeson and into his flesh. He heard agonized screaming — the loudest death knell he had heard in over three thousand years of his existence — and wondered where it came from.

Then he realized the sound had been ripped from his own burning throat.

The world flickered, bathed in a white heat he could not escape.

—

Gil-galad woke with a sharp intake of breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. His rooms were quiet, the light of the moon barely breaking through the windows. He panted, bare chest heaving, as he sat up. Night air brushed over his fevered skin from the open window, but he barely felt it. His hand jumped instinctively to his throat, but his skin was cool and whole.

The pain of searing metal. The pain of watching Elaniel as she faced death

He could barely breathe.

Gil-galad stared at the empty space before him without seeing, his heart gripped in a fear he did not know how to name.

He did not fear pain. He did not fear death.

But he feared what he had just seen.

He rose abruptly, walking to the balcony. Through his life, he had found comfort in starlight. The stars simply were. They offered him no answers, but also asked him no questions. They gave him space to think. To examine how he felt.

Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His hands sought the cool stone as though it might ground him.

The vows of Men said “until death,” and death or divorce released them from their oaths. But the Eldar did not make oaths lightly. They wed once, and their vows were unbreakable, even beyond death. Partners would be reunited in the Undying Lands, to live together until the remaking of the world.

If they said their vows now and he were slain, Elaniel would be left alone in Middle Earth until she came to him in Valinor. They would reunite, yes, but she might spend Ages alone, parted from him in a land stained by grief and a growing darkness. The darkness he fell trying to defeat.

I cannot make her my widow before I make her my wife. I cannot.

A question came, unbidden, from a frightened corner of his mind: Could I live with her death? The image of Elaniel falling beneath the blade of an orc haunted him.

The answer came quickly, pain lancing through him: No. I cannot.

He stared up at the stars, hoping that, just this once, they would give him an answer. As his thoughts deepened, a peculiar sensation brushed against his mind. Gil-galad froze, recognizing the faint touch of another’s thoughts. It was not deliberate — elves rarely opened their minds to another without the intent to share thoughts — but ósanwe could sometimes manifest without warning.

He caught a fleeting image: The edges of the vision shimmered with the golden warmth of dreams. Elaniel was carving a simple wooden horse, her expression soft. He could not see the child for whom she crafted the toy, but the knot in his chest tugged at the sight of her.

The image faded as quickly as it had come. His eyes fluttered as he came back to the present. She is dreaming, he thought gently as he smiled. He hoped her dreams were always so peaceful. Even in her sleep she can not stop creating.

And then – finally, under the silver light of the stars – the truth of it settled over him.

Our fëa are bound.

Vows or not, they were connected. The tugging in his chest would be unbroken by time or distance or death. It would gnaw at them both until Arda was remade.

If he fell, she would feel it. If she fell, he would follow. His early resolve to protect her seemed almost laughable now.

Ah, yes, my sound strategy to keep her safely separated from me by visiting her workshop and kissing her as often as she will allow.

He turned back into the study, his eyes falling on the scattered plans and documents that spoke of war and alliances, of a future that seemed ever more dangerous. He sank into the chair, his head falling into his hands.

I am a fool.

“So, I think we have reached the point where we should discuss it,” Gil-galad said suddenly one evening, looking across the study. ‘Or, more plainly, we are well past that point.”

“Mmm?” Her eyes were still firmly glued on her paperwork.

He had not fully captured her attention. She always murmured when she did not focus – or when she was too focused.

“Elaniel?”

“Hmmm?”

He arched an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes. She looked very distracted. Beautiful. Focused on applying her formidable talents to her work.

But very distracted.

“Elaniel, I suggest we outfit the barracks with platters of cake, replaced daily.” He kept his voice steady, despite the glint of mischief in his eyes — a glint she would not notice, because she did not look up at him, as he had predicted. “Raspberry is preferred by the Lindon archers, to my understanding, though the Silvans from Greenwood will accept plain if there are no other options. The Edain have no preference as long as it is far too sweet for elvish tastes. “

“Mmm,” she murmured in absent agreement, turning from the worktable to search through a small pile of scrolls on the bench next to her.

Does she think she agreed to the cake or the archers, I wonder.

Gil-galad could not stop himself from smiling as he leaned back, appraising her. He waited patiently, studying the column of her neck, that same lock of hair that always fell out of her bun, as though a few strands had been cut too short. The curves of her body, occasionally hidden behind the leather apron she wore on her worksites, were now highlighted in firelight. The soft glow illuminated her sky-blue dress from behind and he could see the silhouette of her body.

“Elaniel,” he kept his voice as flat and uninterested as he could. “My question is relatively urgent, I find.”

She didn’t look up but moved back to her worktable, her eyes narrowing. She was flipping between two pages, confusion on her brow.

Then, as if her brain had simply needed a few more moments to catch up, she looked up from the drawings in her hand. “Did you just ask me a question about cake?”

He laughed loudly, unable to contain the joy that she caused to well up inside him. He stood from his desk and moved around it, walking toward her.

“Yes, I did.”

Elaniel’s eyes flicked to the side, her brow furrowed. “I’ve missed something. Why are you asking about cake?”

“Because you were not paying attention, and I want you to hear me very clearly the first time I tell you I love you,” he said smoothly, as if discussing the weather, as he stood in front of her.

“I thought it best, rather than risk confusion.” He lazily waved a finger back and forth in the space between his chest and hers. “The kind of confusion that is happening right now,” he huffed slightly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he felt the tugging in his chest pull harder. He would have fallen to his knees if he was not fighting the pull.

“So, I will state it plainly, Elaniel.” He scooped up her hands. “I love you, deeply, in a way I have never loved another being. I hope you feel the same. But if you do not, I accept your choice, and we would not need to speak of it again.”

Another moment.

And then…

he waited

through

the longest pause

he had ever

experienced

in the entirety

of his already

long life.

Until Elaniel burst out laughing, tugging her hands from his to throw her arms around his shoulders. Her body melted into his as his hands settled on her hips. “You hope I feel the same? Hope?” Bright gray eyes peered up at him, her voice light. “Do you think I often let strange men lurk in my workshop claiming to seek solitude? Or to watch the stars? Or your study…” She blushed furiously.

Gil-galad had the good sense to dip his head in a bashful apology as he felt his cheeks redden at his own insecurity and hesitation. He pulled her closer, hands settling in the small of her back, pressing her against him.

“It is upsetting that you do not realize we are already in a committed relationship, Ereinion.” She narrowed her eyes in an imitation of anger as she swatted playfully at his shoulder. “And then — then! — to say you wanted to avoid confusion! By talking about archers and cake? You are the most infuriating man…”

He smiled patiently, brown eyes crinkling as he let her finish her tirade. He knew her well, and he knew how this conversation would end.

The joy was in getting there.

Elaniel ended her mock outrage in a huff. “Of course I love you,” she whispered softly, fingers playing with a long strand of his hair, smoothing it over his shoulder. “I’m saddened you had any room to question it, when I feel it so strongly,” she said, pressing her hand against his chest.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” he murmured. “If you felt it too…”

He had held himself back for so long. He had held back so much. And she…

“Oh,” she said quietly, a small smile on her lips. “I thought we might…it was clear we...Our people don’t wed in times of war…I thought we would continue as we have until we decided the time was right,” she ended awkwardly as she blushed, her cheeks turning bright red.

He blinked.

She smiled at him.

He blinked again.

Too many ideas bounced in his mind at once. He wanted to scream, to kiss her, to marry her immediately, to mutter against her lips and ask why this had taken them so long – why did this take so long? – to mourn the time he had wasted, to laugh until he cried, to throw something (most likely at himself or in a sparring ring), to pick her up and take her to his bedroom.

I am a fu–

She craned up on her toes, pulling him down by the nape of his neck, capturing his lips in a kiss, her hands fisting in his hair again.

He found he no longer cared, because they were together now.

And that was all that mattered.

--- Author's Notes:

A few notes, since I feel I threw in some context and insults between characters that don't quite hit right:

The Noldor are notorious for being Kinslayers. They killed other elves - in multiple incidents - and famous Noldo Fëanor's life could be subtitled "Elves behaving badly," or even "Fëanor, NO!"

While not all Noldo are related to Fëanor's line, if there's one thing a Noldo can and WILL do, it's fight you.

The Sindar are notorious for not liking the Noldor because of the aforementioned "they slaughtered us to steal our boats and also killed us multiple other times" situation. But they have also needed the Noldor to support them and provide protection. Which the Noldor did.

Gil-galad's quip about walls is referring to Doriath, a Sindarin realm that was protected by a magical barrier put up by a part-Maia (Elrond's momma) using a Silmaril. From Gil-galad's point of view, the Sindar used the Girdle of Melian to hide from the Shadow in safety while the Noldor and other realms fought battles and died without their support or protection.

Gil-ga-daddy is noting their tendency to hide until they are forced to fight, while firmly arguing the time to fight has come.

Círdan is a Sindar man, and had his own Sindarin realm before it was destroyed. He is one of the oldest elves, and he took in Gil-galad and his mother while their city fell. While we do not get much of his relationship with Gil-galad in the books, it would be easy to suggest their relationship is similar to Elrond and Aragorn's -- a mentor figure who took in a young man to keep him safe.

Laws and Customs of the Eldar is an in-universe document that states that two elves can marry immediately if they have "bodily union." So basically, if they had sex in this scene, they would have been married by the end of it -- and they both know this. I am working to keep this novella relatively canon-compliant, so they aren't going to have sex until they are ready to be married. (They're gonna have sexy smutty times before then, tho, don't fear).

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

You are here -> Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]