#family gil

[purzelsims]

One of my favourite things about restaurants is seeing other (played) sims eating there as well.

[sakasakiii]

when i first designed erestor 3 years back i wasnt totally aware of his potential half-elf status, and since then ive come across some more fanon interpretations of him being haleth and caranthir's kid which i really liked!!!! so ive decided to rework him a little by combining my original lore for him into this concept 👉👈 i ended up getting carried away on whole different tangent with his backstory which ive summarised down below HAHA

tldr to expand on some key points under the cut:

born in F.A. 371 to haleth and caranthir; his parents' romance is short but passionate, and while many of the haladin are initially unsure about the nature of this union, they dont oppose it. for 4 years they live an unconventional but happy life together

haleth leaves thargelion in F.A. 375 and raises erestor with her people once they resettle. he's too young to remember much about caranthir. throughout his childhood she never tells him who his father is, but he also never really feels the need to ask.

he's captured in F.A. 460 (40 years after his mother's death) and escapes in F.A. 510. two years later, he finally finds refuge in Amon Ereb-- six years after the deaths of caranthir, celegorm and curufin in the 2nd kinslaying.

is tasked by maedhros to assist maglor with elrond and elros' education after they're taken in following the 3rd kinslaying in F.A. 538. he becomes a weird mix of a nanny/older brother/teacher figure to them, and a strange but sweet bond forms between them.

entrusted to protect elrond and elros following the break out of the war of wrath. he leads them to the Host of the Valar, where the twins are given the choice of the half-elven; to his surprise, he's afforded this choice as well, and decides to remain elven out of compassion for elrond after elros chooses mortality.

remains by elrond's side to watch over him for most of the 2nd age. during this time he resides in lindon as a healer, translator and archivist; later joins elrond in imladris, and partakes in the war of the last alliance as a combat medic.

in the 3rd age, is beset with sea-longing after what he regards to be a long and tiresome existence; he's also filled with guilt for being unable to help elrond heal celebrian’s psychological wounds, and contemplates following her back to Valinor. ultimately decides to stay back a bit longer, however, and lingers until after sauron’s defeat when the rest of the elves finally depart for the West. 

that's just a very condensed version but one day i hope to explore in some 4th age stuff where he finds out who his dad is...?! or will he?!?! who knows lol

[sesamenom]

Gil-galad Variations, featuring all the gil galad theories i've encountered.

[melorambles]

Elrond as Gil-Galad's Herald should be portrayed more often as a polite political fiction. Like, Elrond's heritage should put him in a very important political position, given exactly how many lineages of kings he's related to. But he's basically allergic to being in charge and every time a council member mentions Elrond getting named the heir, Gil-Galad has to spend half a day talking Elrond out of a tree. But they can't disregard it completely because there are plenty of elves whose loyalty is tied closer to Elrond than Gil-Galad no matter how publically Elrond defers to him.

So, they compromised and made him Gil-Galad's Herald, which is an important position that tells everyone he has Gil-Galad's explicit trust but also means he spends more time playing diplomat and messenger than expressing his own political opinions. Also, it'd be funny if Elrond spends more time essentially pioneering healing techniques than anything else and Gil-Galad sending him out on Herald work is essentially him saying "you're not allowed back in the library until you've eaten at least three meals (diplomatic dinners) and talked to ten people, you're the healer why do I have to tell you this."

Also, something with the two of them going to great lengths to try and get people to forget that Gil-Galad isn't actually that much older than Elrond. And at least one political dinner where a bard is about to sing the Lay of Luthien and has to make awkward eye contact with Elrond, because that's his grandma. And the public consensus that Elrond is probably the most forgiving person on middle earth given he acknowledges his technical kidnappers as his technical foster fathers. And how that acknowledgement technically makes him and Celebrimbor cousins (as opposed to the more distant cousin relationship through his grandmother, Idril, daughter of Turgon, son of Fingolfin, brother to Feanor - aka the guy who made the first jewelry wars were started over, Celebrimbor's grampa).

[elffromforests]

Gil Galad : You are still baby to watch such adult scenes in film.

Elrond: But I am 1600+ years old. You were already king at this time!

GG: I. Said. You. Are .Still .very young.

Elrond: Cool...😑 just great

[fantasyquests]

Galadriel and Gil-galad, best moments (S1 and S2)

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Ok so I‘ve heard it’s mentioned that Tyelpë has dark hair but HEAR ME OUT-

Celebrimbor with silver hair from Miriel.

Gil Galad with silver hair from Eärwen.

Celebrian with silver hair from Celeborn.

Silver hair is seen as a rarity, so when the king and his cousins walk anywhere together, they make a *sight.*

But when he joins, it’s Elrond who turns the most heads, an unnatural beauty courtesy of his great grandmother (and the Finwëan genetics aren’t half bad either.) He’s somewhat of an introvert and Does Not Like This but Celebrian and co find it hilarious.

[therukurals]

Unicorn. Angela Carter

My Journey to You 云之羽 (2023)

[sweetteaanddragons]

Second Age De-Aging AU

(Title is a work in progress.)

The workshop looked as if it had recently contained a small to medium sized explosion.

That concerned Gil-Galad a great deal less than what had been left in the wake of that explosion.

Namely, a very small peredhel currently perching catlike on one of the few sets of shelves still standing and who was hurling every throwable object in reach at a wincingly placating Annatar.

The thrown objects were accompanied by what he first interpreted as a yowl, which was really only reinforcing the cat impression, right up until he belatedly realized it was actually a wail, at which point he had to remind himself that it was not at all appropriate for him to throw things at an emissary of a Valar. 

Even if he was almost entirely certain that, despite the seeming impossibility of the thing, the very small peredhel in question was Elrond.

Still. He was king. Kings did not throw things. Kings very calmly and not at all frantically demanded, “What happened?”

Elrond’s wail at last became intelligible words. “He lied!”

Gil-Galad switched his gaze to Annatar.

The maia was holding his hands out in a conciliatory fashion. “Dear Celebrimbor and I have been working on some things to better help Men preserve their minds as they age. Perfectly safe for both elves and Men, I assure you. Lord Elrond expressed a natural interest. I had no idea that with his . . . unique nature . . . it would react this way to his touch.”

“It exploded,” Gil-Galad said flatly.

“Not at all!” Annatar assured him. “It merely . . . affected his fea in an unexpected way. And it seems his hroa followed. At which point, he was unsurprisingly distressed . . . “

Gil-Galad reconsidered the explosion in the context of a highly frightened descendant of Luthien.

“ . . . and I am afraid that the resulting . . . incident . . . led to it . . . ”

Gil-Galad redirected his attention to the scorch marks on the workbench as Annatar very visibly searched for a word that was not “exploding.”

“And at which point in this process did you lie to him?” he asked pleasantly.

Annatar winced even more deeply. “He asked where his brother was,” he said apologetically. 

Gil-Galad went very, very still.

He remembered, very clearly, just how closely the twins had stuck to each other in the early days of their being sent to Balar.

He remembered, very clearly, the grief on Elrond’s face when Elros had sailed.

And he remembered, very clearly, the grief that even still had not vanished when the bond between them at last had fully snapped.

“I’m afraid in my distraction that I said that was an interesting theological question.”

And Elrond, even at this age, had put the pieces together between that statement and the aching void Gil-Galad was sure he still felt in his soul when he reached for his brother.

Maiar, he had to remind himself very firmly, did not view death as Men or elves did. Annatar had not intended his statement to lead to . . . this.

This was even now changing. Whatever expression was on Gil-Galad’s face must have convinced Elrond that it was not a lie after all because there were no more objects being thrown from the shelf.

Unless, of course, you counted Elrond himself, who was slowly but surely turning the color of bleached bone and sliding inexorably off the shelf.

Gil-Galad sprang for him, catching the far too light body just in time.

“Fix this,” he ordered Annatar, clutching Elrond to his chest. Elrond had gone deathly quiet, and he had to move his hand on Elrond’s back until he could feel the heartbeat through the ribs just to be sure it was still pumping.

It was not the correct way to talk to an emissary of the Valar.

Gil-Galad did not have enough left in him to care.

. . .

Several hours later, he still had not determined what precise age this version of Elrond was.

This failure was mainly because of what else he had discovered. Namely, that this version of Elrond did not want to talk.

Or eat. Or sleep. Or do anything, really, but curl up into the smallest ball he could manage and block out the rest of the world.

He did not object to Gil-Galad talking. Or singing. Or pacing.

He did object, after those first few moments, to being touched. Gil-Galad had set him down in the window seat of his borrowed office the moment he could. As far as he could tell, Elrond hadn’t moved since.

He also objected to Annatar’s entrance. At least, that’s what Gil-Galad assumed the infinitesimal tensing of his shoulders meant. It was tempting to drag Annatar into the hallway to just meet there, but that would mean leaving Elrond alone, and Gil-Galad felt . . . uneasy about that.

(The window was narrow. The window was covered with beautifully stained glass that some of the artisans here had apparently been experimenting with. The window was not that high off the ground, really, as elves usually considered things.)

(On the other hand: Elwing. Maedhros.)

(Even if Elrond currently remembered only one of those formative experiences, Gil-Galad was not in the mood to take any risks.)

“You have a solution?”

Annatar shook his head mournfully. “I have a better idea of what went wrong,” he corrected. “A solution will likely take weeks. Longer, perhaps. It is a good thing you accompanied Lord Elrond on this visit; I am not sure a messenger could have found Celebrimbor in time.”

Gil-Galad paused in his pacing. “In time,” he repeated.

“Since the dwarves have been so reluctant to share the location of their sacred places to others in the past . . . ?” Annatar’s voice hinted gently, embarrassed to repeat what Gil-Galad already knew.

He knew full well why a message might take a while to find Celebrimbor; the complications of Celebrimbor’s expedition with the dwarves of Khazad-dum falling, he was assured unavoidably, in tax year, coinciding with a few mix-ups in delegation and communication . . . 

But “in time.”

Were the effects going to get worse or - ?

“He’s a child,” Annatar said, very slowly, in response to the confusion Gil-Galad feared was on his face. “His fea will need to be nurtured. Preferably by a relative.”

“That’s just superstition,” he protested.

Annatar looked at him very oddly.

“ . . . I’ve heard,” Gil-Galad tacked on, like an elf who had certainly had two very present and alive elvish parents to nurture him throughout his childhood, and not at all like a feral former fugitive who had been raised by human bandits in the woods.

“From whom?” Annatar asked incredulously.

“Elrond,” he said after a slightly too long pause. He flicked his eyes hopefully to the child on the window seat; Elrond hadn’t so much as twitched. “He survived the first time around, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Annatar agreed after an equally baffled pause. “Forgive me for any indelicacy here, but you do realize that no matter how forsworn the sons of Feanor may be, they do still count as relatives . . . ?”

Right.

And Gil-Galad . . . did not.

Which shouldn’t matter, he told himself firmly. He had survived, hadn’t he? And he was perfectly fine.

Perfectly alive, at any rate. And any of his various moral shortcomings were just down to his personal failings. And the more practical side of his upbringing.

Definitely.

His eyes flicked worriedly to the very pale, very still, very small figure in the corner.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice in that direction?”

(Annatar did, as it turned out.)

(It did not turn out to be enough.)

. . .

He had felt guilty before about lying about his place in the Finwean family tree.

None of it came close to what he felt watching Elrond slowly wasting away.

He had lied and cheated his way to this point, and if this point got Elrond killed -

No.

He could stay here and pray Annatar finished fixing the device before his own deficiencies got Elrond killed.

Or he could take his company and ride hard for Galadriel.

Probably that would be the end of his masquerade; probably all that sharp edged suspicion in her eyes would turn to certainty and that would be that. Definitely of his career and possibly of his life.

But Galadriel was Elrond’s cousin; Galadriel was a mother. Galadriel would know what to do. Elrond would be alright.

(“I’m sure this isn’t necessary,” Annatar said as Gil-Galad’s guards prepared the horses. Elrond had let himself be hauled like a terrifyingly heartbroken statue onto one of them. “You must be a closer relative to him the sons of Feanor were; surely with a few more days of trying to bond with him - ”)

(He considered just blurting it out. ‘No, actually, he might be more closely related to you, considering that maiar blood.’ ‘No, actually, I wouldn’t know Finwe from a dead toad on the ground.’)

(‘No, actually, there’s something terribly wrong with me. Possible more wrong than there was with thrice kin slaying Feanorians.’)

(He smiled, instead, with a closed mouth. “I’m really not father material,” he said. “Lady Galadriel, I’m sure, will prove as ferociously competent as always in my stead.”)

(Annatar did not argue with this.)

. . .

(There weren’t any Feanorian guards with them. Gil-Galad had insisted after what had happened the last time he had let Elrond bring Farande to Eregion. He wasn’t sure if that was for the better or the worse now; if Elrond would be relieved to have a face he recognized or terrified due to how he recognized it.)

(At least that might be better than the terrifyingly hollow look that was currently in his eyes.)

(But it would be better soon, he assured Elrond. They would reach his cousin Galadriel soon, and wouldn’t that be nice?)

(Elrond remained curled in the tightest huddle he could manage by the campfire. He no longer bothered to wince when he was touched.)

. . .

Galadriel met them at the edge of the forest she had made her new home in, so at least the messengers he had sent had managed to find her. She gave her usual shallow courtesies to her nominal king, but her eyes were locked on Elrond.

Now, at last, was the moment to confess.

Gil-Galad slid from his horse. Carefully, oh, so carefully, he helped Elrond down. 

His ribs had been less prominent when the Feanorians had sent him to Balar.

“I couldn’t help him,” he said, his quiet voice sounding like the crack of doom through the silence.

“Of course you could not,” Galadriel said. 

Of course.

“His fea was orphaned once; it will not accept a replacement again. Not - ” And here, in the face of Elros, even she faltered. “Not under these conditions.”

A different, more dreadful doom wrapped around his heart.

If Celebrimbor had been deemed too difficult to find -

He noticed, dully, that Galadriel had come alone.

And that despite wearing a fine woven cloak against the snap of the late autumn chill she was carrying another one.

And a flute.

“Lady Galadriel,” he said slowly.

“Do you want to help him or not?” she snapped. She paused. “My king.”

“Oh, I want the help,” he said instantly, fervently. “I’ll welcome him into Lindon with open arms if he can do this.”

“Well,” she sniffed. “I don’t know that you need to promise that.”

“Especially since it seems you came well prepared with bribes yourself,” he said, nodding with considerable relief to the goods in her hands.

She looked down at them. “ . . . Yes,” she said. “Bribes.”

[wanderer-clarisse]

high king

day 6 of @arafinwean-week | prompts: Gil-galad, future and legacy

[big-ass-magnet]

KLAUS YOU NEED TO WORK ON YOUR COMMUNICATION SKILLS.

[purzelsims]

Someone decided to harvest forbidden fruits in style ... or something.

[braxix]

Galadriel and Celebrimbor: *Fighting*

Gil-Galad: Please! There are children present!

Elrond: I am not a child, Erenion!

Gil-Galad: I was talking about Celebrian.

Celebrian: I will kick you.

[tolkien-povs]

One thing about Kidnap-Fam?

It's how four broken souls had a few years of reprieve, before they went on to becoming even more broken.

It's about the emotions involved. Maedhros is severely traumatised. Maglor is in immense grief. Both brothers don't even want to live — their only reason for life is the Silmaril, and after Elrond and Elros, they just left it for "later".

Elrond and Elros witnessed the killing and blood spilled of their family, from their adopters. These boys are traumatised. They're too young to understand grief, yet they experience it.

And these broken twins are taken in, adopted, cared for, fostered by the murderers of their clan. On their end, it's trauma, hate, exhaustion, and reluctant trust.

Maedhros and Maglor may have made negotiations with Elwing about her twin sons. They provide for the twins, run behind them, and even foster them — although initially it is reluctant. To these brothers, the twins are mere burdens.

But as they grow closer, as they understand each other, their grief and trauma are festered into a love so deep, they were willing to let go of each other to keep each other safe.

It's how in the beginning, Maedhros and Maglor saw Elrond and Elros as political burdens, but in the end, they were a blessing, and a source of temporary healing for them all.

It's tragic that they don't have a happily ever after. However, they enjoyed every moment spent, and that in itself is a respite, a happiness no matter how twisted it started.

All I can think of are Maedhros's last moments. When he threw himself into the fire, was he thinking that for children like Elros and Elrond, his passing would make the world better? Was he reminded of Eluréd and Elurín, whom he failed to find, and in a twisted turn of fate, found and cared for their nephews? Was he thinking about Maglor, about his family?

All I can think of are Maglor's thoughts when he threw the Silmaril into the sea. Was he cursing himself and his family? Did he think that by drowning the stone, perhaps he and the twins could have had a happier ending? Was he lamenting the lives he took, only for the Silmaril to slip from his hands, all to go in vain, his brothers and father gone, his mother a whole world away, his deeds unforgivable? Did he think he was too horrible for death, so he chose the utter torment of life?

And Elros and Elrond. What did they think when their guardians left? Did they feel abandoned? Angered? Resentful? Or did they understand, and mourn for what they didn't and could have?

For Maedhros and Maglor, time spent with the twins was short. Too short.

For Elrond and Elros, time spent with the brotbers was long lived, but not as long as they thought when they grew older.

They all do have a happy ending, though. Perhaps Maedhros met Elros briefly in death. Perhaps Maglor met Elrond briefly before Elrond left for the Grey Havens. Perhaps, when the world will be remade, or by some miracle wherein the Valar are more merciful and allow the Fourth Age to see the Kinslayers re-embodied, they may have a reunion.

One thing is for certain, in Tolkien's stories, when people love each other, no force in the world can tear them apart. They may be separated, but they will always get back to each other somehow.

[lilcathsmith]

Crime Show Meme - CSI insp [3/5 characters]

"Do you believe in past lives? No, ma'am. How come?. Because I'm just trying to make it through this one." - Nick Stokes (portrayed by George Eads, 2000 - 2015)

[sandwichmustbetasty]

i love this shot

elrond looking at the legacy of eregion, of celebrimbor and house of feanor burning

for elrond this is it. absolute, total defeat. brutal erasure of eregion history and culture, all of it going up in the flames.