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pursuitseternal · 1 year ago

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Spooky, sexy, wolfy “Trespassers Beware” just in time for Halloween…

Fem!Reader (Galadriel) x Sauron |E| 4K Wolf Sex

🎨 by @thebabydragon

Summary: You seek the source of the dark power, following the rumors and the wolf howls to the Old Fortress… he finds you… and does so much more

CW: bestiality, multiple wolves at once, wolf possession, disembodied sorcerers having their way, sex in an old ruin with your forbidden lover

Read on AO3 | Tolkien Masterlist

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

You heard the rumors; they are what drive you to leave the secret realm you worked tirelessly to build. Your haven, your home among the trees. Your safety ensured for an age among the Mallorn trees, you enjoyed the peace while war had raged around you. Your powers of protection had ensured the preservation of light in the darkness.

But it wasn’t enough. Not since you had touched the darkness and left it with a howl in your ears and a slickness between your legs.

You tried to be content with your kingdom of light, but in the dark, you still heard his music. It wafted to you in your dreams, faint, an almost-illusion that haunted you. But it never woke you. Never appeared. Never showed himself aroused and ready to fuck as he had before. He was too preoccupied with war then, and since the Fall of the Enemy, that music had grown silent.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the melody stirred your body, boiling your blood. Tonight you crept along the forest darkness, the edge of your own lands behind you. You still remember that music from your dreams. The way you had just awoken in a sweat, wet and panting like you hadn’t felt in over and age.

You knew the rumors had spread to your door, a spirit dwelling in the shadows of the Old Fortress. Dol Guldur. You had heard tales from travelers that now there were foul things in the darkness, spider webs among the trees and howls in the silence.

But rumors were hollow. You need to see them for yourself. To follow the call of those wolves to their Master.

For you could not deny, part of you hopes it is him. The master of such wolves, the sensual caress of darkness itself.

Your heart beats in your chest, erratic and hard, as you step between the black limbed trees in this part of the Greenwood. Or the Mirkwood as it is now called. Craning your neck, you listen for his song, just a faint wavering that meets your ear.

Your hand flexes, the thin strip of your finger missing the protection of your ring. But you smile, better to seek what you desire without abandon, without distraction or more temptation. For finding the Spirit in the Woods is temptation enough.

Dusty, dead leaves under your feet turn to cold stones. You stand on the bridge to the Fortress, a chill in the air that somehow heats your body, shivers running down your spine to pool between your thighs. You hear that song, that music, faint but real, whining from the distant and crumbling walls. Mists swirl, and you get the feeling of distant eyes watching you, that crawling sensation creeping all across your skin to steal your breath. You reminisce, the feeling of being here before. The ruins of a fortress of darkness, howls in the distance, your body warming at the memory of the same feelings from a thousand years before.

The hush of winds rustle the leaves across the stone bridge, and you push on. Until you hear the scratch of claws in front of you. Suddenly, orange eyes begin to glow in the shadows of arches and derelict walls. Panting, growling, a pack of large, grey wolves file in around you. Their eyes glint in hunger, tongue lapping at their jaws.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling howl overwhelms your ears, commanding his pack to withdraw. Commanding you to come.

And come you do. The way his voice weaves around your body is palpable, shaking into your flesh, riding into your insides with a tremor.

You know that sound in your bones. It is him.

Above you from a parapet, black mist swirls. And then eyes large and red shine, flickering with ridges of orange and flecks of yellow. Made of flame themselves. Two of them, staring unblinking above you. Your blood seems to freeze with fear and boil with desire at once.

That music that settled for ages in your bones now greets your ear, melancholic, weak, and mournful. A baleful howl comes from that patch of shadow, darker than death itself.

“Have you come to taunt me, Lady Light?” his voice scratched inside your ear. “Come to show me the spoils of a lost war? Treasures I shall never plunder the same again?”

Your heart races against your ribs, feeling your body responding to the sound of his voice, the pull of that lamenting music now that fills your ears.

“You come seeking something… or else you would not be here…” those flaming eyes seem to be framed in a tall form, crouching low to the floor of the parapet above you. A shadow of a great wolf, remembering the form you have always craved between your legs.

You step closer, your body humming to life as it had not for centuries. Your body burns despite the cold mist and shadows, your heart beats with lust, not with fear. Even as a dozen eyes shine back at you from the crumbling fortress.

“I may no longer have true eyes to see, or a true tongue to pry your answer from your pretty, pouting lips, but I have my ways even now to make you keen and answer me…”

“Oh?” You dare, sliding your feet through itching dust, your core now turning to liquid, searing and strange, as you meet those eyes of flame with your own arrogant glance. “What would you do to force out my answer as to why I have come? Do you fear I have come to tame you, Wolf?” You toss your words with confidence, arrogance growing with each step you take. Drawn in willingly by his sorcery, his presence.

“Tame me?” he spits down at you, throwing the heat of his gaze in your direction. “No, you will find I am fire and shadow now, untamable, feral, and wild as the dark forest in which you foolishly trespassed…”

Your heart lurches at the meanings. “You mean…?”

“That’s correct, little She-elf, little enemy of mine. I have no form with which to fuck you now, if that was your desire.”

“That is not…”

His howl pierces your ear, splitting your hearing, deafening you with his power. Shadows grow around you, feeling pulled inside the crumbling walls of the Old Fortress. All is mist and shadow and flames and shining eyes.

You feel a hint of fear, heart racing as those wolf eyes begin to draw nearer to you. They shine a white in the distance, but as they draw nearer, they glow like fire. Matching the eyes that still glare unblinking from the archway above you. “Do not lie to me, after all our times together, with only you and me, my fangs in your throat, your body trembling around mine. There is nothing else for it now, it is the punishment you will take for entering my lands. Pleasure or death.”

The black bodies of the wolves draw near, the Wolf Lord’s voice echoing around you from every direction. They circle you, brushing their fur against your legs every so often. Their growls make their own sad music, but one that still fueled the heat between your legs. Each wolf, sable coated and flaming eyes now. Like their Master.

“Which is it, my love,” his voice sounds in your ear, as if his mouth pressed into the curves and point of your ear. “Death—” you feel a snout shoving in your ass, the weight of the beast heaving against you until you fall to your knees. Pain shoots through your body as you hit the rough stone ruin. You pant, swallowing the cry of anguish. Another wolf, eyes of glowing orange and swirling gold, stares into you. Your face matching his height, his maw bearing teeth on one side, as if he smirks. “—or pleasure?” That disembodied voice floats no longer, the smell of smoke settling over this lupine form, that rumbling voice of the Master sounding from its throat.

“You know my answer,” you breathe with a force you did not suspect you could muster as you are stared down by two dozen flaming eyes in the darkness.

“Pleasure it is,” the voice rumbles, so close to the wolf, you can feel its low vibration in your belly. The beast’s hot breath passes over your face, its tongue lolling as it stares, smiling. Massive. You know that wolf will cover you head to toe once the master decides it.

But you force a laugh, reaching a hand to pet it between the ears, trialing your touch down its neck. Fur so thick, so lush, you can’t let go. “Of course, you pick the male almost as big and beautiful as you were to possess…”

“You’re wrong,” his voice sounds from the chest before you. And a dozen other places in the dark. “Why inhabit one body to fuck you in when I can possess them all… possess them to possess you…”

The air grows so cold around you, chilling your skin even under your shift. As if you are already naked. The damp of the mist thickens now, wetting your dress against the goose flesh of your body. You cannot bear it anymore. Ready to rip it off your self.

The Wolf before you takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he prods his muzzle into the neckline of your gown. For a moment, you enjoy the heat of his breath down your bosoms. The beast looks down at you with glowing orange eyes—his eyes. His teeth sink into the fabric of your dress, slowly and deliberately. Undressing you with care. Even if it means tearing the measly fabric from your flesh, rip by rip. He jerks his head, baring your skin to the damp night until it puddles in shreds at your feet.

You look at the beast before you, covered in thick, dark fur that ripples in the stiff breeze. And you want nothing more than to have it cover you head to toe. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling its breath down your back, its muscles flexing in your embrace. The scent of cedar and smoke, the tingle of magic floods you where you touch him. That mournful flow of music curls inside your ear, the wolf resting his head on your shoulders for a moment.

But you are wrong to trust him entirely. His head lifts, dragging that soft, tickling fur against the crook of your neck. His laughter fills your ear, warm and harsh and cruel. Wet fangs replace the blanket of fur on your skin, their points sinking into the flesh of your shoulder with piercing agony. You scream, your voice swallowed by the noise, joining in the rising chorus of howls that echo around you.

Swallowed by the sound of him in his pack of monsters. Consumed by the pain of his fangs pressing into your flesh. Marking you, claiming you as his as your blood covers his tongue and paints his maw.

Your body buckles, bending you on your knees until your bare body lays on the freezing stone. Releasing your shoulder, the great wolf laps at the wounds, cleaning the punctures as soons as your blood begins to trickle. You shiver, from pain and from the cold, but soon it is only your biting fear that races up and down your spine.

Two more wolves approach you, their eyes glowing, his laughter multiplied as many voices when they reach their mouths for your wrists. They don’t bite. At least not hard. But they make you their captive, tongues licking the inside of your wrists as they stretch you out against the ground. Their teeth circled your wrists leaving you nowhere to go.

You breathe, forcing your chest to rise and fall. Feeling your nipples straining painfully hard in the cold. You wish something, anything would take away the chill.

As if to answer your desperate prayer, something hot trails over your mound. All you see is the hulking frame of that Great Wolf, eyes gleaming up from between your legs. “This wolf is strong, hungry,” your lover’s voice caresses inside your mind, as if stoking your desire from within. “A most worthy alpha to use for what I have waited centuries to do to you once more.” His laugh spikes a new sort of shiver down your spine as the animal chuffs and sniffs your folds. “You better beg me to stay in control of this monster…”

“You wouldn’t for one second relinquish control to another,” you snap in return, “no I trust you to be in complete control to enjoy this perverted union.”

“Thousands of years and you finally have learned your fate,” his words brushed like a loving caress. “None shall have you as I have, not in this world or the next….”

His words soften as you feel the cold press of a snout between you folds. Hot and cold mingle in one delicious mix, making your every nerve light on fire. Hot breath, chilled nose. Hot tongues and saliva between your legs and around your wrists as you lay on the freezing ground. An offering to the Wolf Lord himself.

Suddenly you feel heated mouths panting on you. A tongue slips between your folds, lapping and licking with ferocity. A hunger barely bridled. But you can see nothing but black fur now wreathing your vision. More beasts descend upon you, eyes glowing. All under his influence.

“If I must only take what is mine through these wolves, I might as well make use of them all.” His voice tickles in both your ears, sounding from between your thighs, echoing inside your very mind. “And I will use them all at once, in case you doubt my power…”

Maws lower to both your pointed nipples, coating both in matching swirls of wolf-tongues. Your body floods, unable to handle the contact on your skin. The heat and the wet saliva that trickles from your cunt, slipping down the side of your body as all three mouths make sloppy work of your pleasure. A graze of teeth against one nipple sends a scream from your lips, you try to lift your hands, but more fangs press softly into your wrists.

And then you hear that low, throated laugh shiver through your body and mind again.

“Why such a hurry?” he chuckles. “I am starved since last we coupled, as are you from the smell of you. Be still, Princess, my tongues will do you some good.”

You feel consumed, your flesh at his mercy, your pleasure raging unbearable and hot. Everything about you is dripping, your folds leak your arousal faster than the beast’s tongue can lap it up. Your own mouth salivates, and your ears are filled with the wet squelch. Every sense of your body is consumed by heat and flame, going rigid as you writhe on the ground.

For a moment, they all withdraw. For a moment, you feel only cold and wet from their drool and your own cum as it cools in the night breeze. But your guardians hold you firm, binding your wrists in their maws. No escape. But you wouldn’t dream of it now, not as you rub your legs together, unfulfilled and empty. Mewls scratch and whine from your throat, your thighs drenched even as you try to chase the need for him inside you. The walls of your pussy clench on nothing, as your voice cries out only more and more desperate.

And he laughs. A laugh so low, so much like a growl, it shakes your bones. “Are you afraid, little princess? Afraid I’ll leave you for the wolves, or afraid you’ll leave here empty and aching with no cum to drip down your thighs?”

“Both,” you manage to pant, a small thrill of that fear and a massive rush of anticipation as something massive pushes its rippling, fur-coated body between your squirming legs.

“Then let me give you the means of mastering your fear, Princess,” his voice seems to tickle your ears, air brushing past them both as if lips hung not a breath away.

Thick, smooth, and wide…. You are filled, the walls of your innards stretch to the limit. You scream as his cock presses so deep, slipping effortlessly from your slick. Eyes flash down between your legs, seeing nothing but the black of his underbelly and the way your belly swells and bumps. So filled. So aching. He trusts again and again, that rise of him in your cunt protruding over and over. Your hips buck to take him deeper. Beastly breath pants over your head, stands of drool from his slacked maw trickle between your breasts.

And still he thrusts. Your eyes fixed on the bulge of your gut, the way you could take him inside you more and more if your little body could manage it. Pain and pleasure swirl down every nerve, you have never felt more alive, nor more in danger as a dozen eyes glow and a dozen tongues lap their jaws as if they wait for their turn.

His voice growls in your ear, inside your head, a little rumble with each body-splitting thrust he made between your thighs. “Take me,” he rasps in your mind. You feel his tongue lapping at your shoulder, cleaning the blood that begins to run fresh from the rigor of his fucking. Raising your legs, you brace your thighs around his middle and you buck your hips to make him slide deeper. Slam after slam against the end of your cunt. Vision starts to fade until the last thing you see are two glowing eyes of fire in your face, a pink tongue cleaning your crimson blood off its shining teeth.

Then all goes white, your body erupting fire that spasms down your nerves and burns your veins. You stop breathing, the sound of your own scream is swallowed as his tongue laps in your mouth, down your throat. You are suffocating in his rut, possessed just as much as these wolves that pant their lust.

Suddenly, you feel more tongues lapping your body again as the ground of the Old Fortress steadies beneath you. They lick every inch of you, making you squirm and writhe, fighting against the jaws that keep you pinned. You can feel those guards clamp down, their fangs piercing your skin.

The scent of blood thickens.

The sounds of growls and the caws of the carrion birds crescendo. Only sound greater is the way his laugh sounds impossibly loud and impossibly deep in tone. Like gathering thunder.

The thrusts between your legs make your whole cunt numb, the end of your channel unfeeling after he begins to fuck you even harder. More erratic. More feral and wild. You squeeze your thighs harder, trying to leverage against his hip bones, but he only shifts himself against you so rough, you feel the fur of his balls tickling your ass.

Once… twice… you scream despite the lapping, ravenous tongue in your mouth. And then you feel split apart, his knot shoving into your entrance, hard and swollen and bursting. You feel him filling you, pump after pump of cum coating you, overfilling past his cock to squirt from you. The heat that liquid warms your skin as it pools beneath you, and you shiver in the chilling air.

You tremble, wet from their drool, from your blood at your wrists and your shoulder. Sticky and slick even as you wait for his knot to release you. And yet all you can hear are the piercing, chilling cries of carrion birds. Their voices harbingers of death.

“Release me,” you breathe, trembling in voice as your body is wracked with another shiver. “You have given me my fill of pleasure, and I have seen you haven’t lost any of your power…”

“Or my desire,” he rasps in your ear. Another low, consuming howl sounds from the sky, and all the wolves withdraw. That cock tugging free from your folds roughly and suddenly. Your body feels broken, bereft, and cold. Not empty, not as you feel the still heated drips of cum seeping from you. “Join me,” his voice swirls from ear to ear, as if his body hovers over yours on the broken stones of Dol Guldur.

“No,” you pant, trying to lift your body from the ground. But something keeps you pinned still, black mist warm on your skin as you realize it is him around you. On top of you.

“You think you have a choice… how amusing,” you feel a tickle over your collarbone, the black mass taking on a strange orange glow within. “Your arrogance to come to me, to trespass on my domain, has only left you bound to the one being you crave and despise in equal measure.”

You fight to get to your hands and knees, trying to push off the dirt and cum covered stones. Something brushes against your sex as you crawl, as if a cold, damp breath breathes you in. “You can leave, Princess, but you will always be drawn back to me…”

You grit your teeth fighting harder to stand. First one foot, then the other as you crouch beneath the weight of his enchantment. It feels so good, so thrilling, to push back against him for once.

“… you have and will always long for more, another belly swollen with my seed, another empty void filled inside you…”

You press yourself to standing, lifting your head even as the black mist swirls, darts and flickers of orange flames sparking in the midst of it.

“…for you know you are what you have always been…”

“Your mate,” you breathe, “but I will not remain in this chaos and darkness.”

You feel the chill of the air warm at your words. Your admission. The flashes of orange begin to cluster, to take a form, the shape of a man. A smile crosses your lips, feeling the warmth of his magic stealing over your skin, battling the cold that sends goose flesh across your body.

“Then join me…” you feel his voice flutter against your skin, so close and yet unattainable. Intangible.

“You know my answer…” you reply, forcing your words even as that mist trails hotly over your flesh, warming at your nipples, caressing the back of your neck.

You hear him sigh down your skin. “If only I could take true form… if only I could really touch you, convince you…”

“You will have to settle for haunting me, it seems,” you sigh, arching your back as his invisible attentions continue, sending another flood of arousal between your already drenched legs.

“It is you who have haunted me,” his breath, his presence tastes like smoke over your tongue as you gasp. As something prods at your belly and grips your ass. “The least I might do is return the favor, if I can’t keep you as my own, my possession.”

“I fear you will possess me for ages to come,” you wriggle from the center of the black mass, and he lets you. And even as you walk down the cracked path and crumbling bridge of the Old Fortress, you can feel the heat of those glowing eyes on your back. You still feel the slick sliding across your bare thighs as you walk in the darkness.

And all the while, you hum that mystical melody. His song. The melody still clings to your year and fills your throat. You can’t stop, even if you tried, possessed entirely by him. In mind, if not in body. At least not until the next time he calls to you.

One last entry for @hellghoulweek and @thehaladrielfancollective (I’m sure there are five kinks on there for Kinktober 🪦🐺)

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notreallythatlost · 4 months ago

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I BLEED THE SAME

➴ annatar/sauron x female!elf!reader

PART ONE

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, angst, unprotected sex, p in v, slight biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 notreallythatlost

#halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rop x reader #annatar smut

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queers-gambit · 4 months ago

Text

Bait and Switch

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

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

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We did not - "

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What part are we to play in this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's worth more."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Safe with Elrond."

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

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

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

"I can try."

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

"Do not say that!"

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

"Tell him yourself."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

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

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

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

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

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

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only my ego," you assured.

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

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

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

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

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've never seen me wield either."

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

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

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

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

"You so much as twitch - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lord Father - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Orcs hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No more than I you."

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

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

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

"Be smart."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

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

"You!"

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

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

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

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

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

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

"Where is he?"

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

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

"YES!"

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

Exactly why you were separated from them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why was she not with you?"

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

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

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

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

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

"Anything."

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

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

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

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

"Elrond!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

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

"He will kill our own kind!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sister?" You prompted.

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

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

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

"I'm older than you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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thewulf · 10 months ago

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Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

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pinkchaosnight · 5 months ago

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so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

#adar #adar x you #adar x reader #adar rings of power #the rings of power #adar x oc

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 4 months ago

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One Parallel to Rule Them All

I’ve seen a lot of comparisons of Saurondriel to other ships (Reylo, Hannigram, etc.), but to me, what comes closer to Saurondriel dynamic is Vanessa Ives x Dracula in “Penny Dreadful”.

For those not familiar with the story: Dracula has been grouping Vanessa’s mind for ages, because he wants her as his bride and queen. He tempts her with promises of love and power, but Vanessa always resists.

Pretty much like the OG Dracula, he's the progenitor and master of all vampires. His plan is world domination. He's an ancient immortal spirit with, you guessed it: They are many, my names… like the carrion circling Golgotha.

Like Galadriel, Vanessa is also on a hunt for Dracula for a very long time, for personal reasons: he kidnapped her best friend (who’s like a sister to her). Galadriel is on a hunt of Sauron because he killed her brother.

Vanessa Ives is the female lead character of “Penny Dreadful”, and in the outside she’s poised, mysterious and dignified. She is, however, full of secrets, inner demons and dangers: her main struggle is to stay on God's side as she struggles with the darkness within herself, and is tempted by both Dracula and Lucifer (The Devil) to join them. She has several supernatural gifts, which are a burden to her and everyone around her (and they threaten to destroy her very life, and her relationships with others): she’s a medium, clairvoyant, mind-reader, expert on protective magic (to block evil), divination, and white witchcraft, in general. She also gets possessed on occasion. If all of this sounds familiar it’s because it’s pretty similar to “Lady of the Light” Galadriel herself.

One kiss and you're free of all this. In this mortal world you'll always be shunned for your uniqueness, but not with me. They will lock you away in rooms like this. They will brand you a freak and a sorceresses, but I won't. I love you for who you are, Vanessa. Penny Dreadful, A Blade of Grass, 3x04 Context: Vanessa is locked up in a mental asylum in this scene, and Dracula and the Devil possess a worker to speak with her, and tempt her to their side

All others look on you with doubt. I alone can see your greatness. I alone can see your light [...] I would make you a queen. Fair as the sea and the Sun. Stronger than the foundations of the earth. Rings of Power, Alloyed, 1x08

Meeting in Human Form:

When Dracula/Sauron, finally, appears to Vanessa/Galadriel, in the flesh, he hides his true self behind a human form, and poses as “Dr. Alexander Sweet”/Halbrand, a zoologist at the Natural Museum, in London/random dude who hides a secret.

Catching Feelings:

Both Vanessa and Galadriel fall in love with Dr. Sweet (Dracula)/Halbrand (Sauron).

The Reveal:

Eventually, both Vanessa and Galadriel discover Dracula/Sauron true identity, and put a weapon against them. Both villains try to justify themselves, with the truth:

Have I lied? You met a man who marvels wide-eyed at the miracles of nature. So I am. You met a man who has known pain and tragedy. And so I am. You met a man who wanted to possess you for his own ends but, instead, he fell in love. That's the man I am, and the monster. Penny Dreadful, Ebb Tide, 3x07

You told me. After our victory, you said that whatever I'd done before I could be free of it now [...] I told you the truth. I told you that I had done evil, and you did not care. Because you knew that our past meant nothing, weighed against our future. Rings of Power, Alloyed, 1x08

The Proposal:

Here's the catch. Vanessa resisted Dracula several times before (like Galadriel), until she doesn't, and accepts his offer, because she can no longer escape the darkness within herself: I will love you till time has lost all meaning, Dracula promises her.

Galadriel will have to accept the darkness within herself too, as we’ve seen on the Third Age (not sure if it implies her giving up to Sauron, though).

In Penny Dreadful, Vanessa eventually "gets rescued” from Dracula (she’s killed, actually) by an agent of God (Ethan Chandler), who comes to confront Dracula: I suppose I can't blame you. I would feel the same. After all, without her, what do we have left, Ethan?

For the sake of the argument, if this parallel was to continue, and we see Galadriel succumbing to Sauron in Season 3, who could this “agent of God” be in “Rings of Power”? Gandalf, of course. The Maia of Manwë (King of the Valar) sent to Middle-earth to help the Free people defeat Sauron.

#saurondriel #haladriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #galadriel x halbrand #vanessa ives x dracula

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thyras · 27 days ago

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→ of the rings of power

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 5k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → canon divergence

SUMMARY → you have the means to save your people, but can you grapple with what that might mean?

AUTHORS NOTE → so there is MASSIVE canon divergence in this part, it will be righted in the end but I just wanted to clarify this going forward. it needed to be done for the sake of what I have planned. also I had to split up this part because it was already 10k words and I doubt y'all wanted to read all that lol 💕

PARTS → masterlist

“Why am I not surprised?” Gil-galad said, his voice cool and cutting, as you and Galadriel ascended the grand stone steps where he and Elrond stood, framed by the soft golden haze of Lindon’s light. The words hung in the air like an unsheathed blade, gleaming and poised to strike. You swallowed hard against the weight of them, your breath catching at the implication. Your secret—the delicate web of silence you had spun—was unraveling strand by strand.

Galadriel strode beside you, her expression as poised and inscrutable as ever. She knew who he was. She had peered into the shadow he cast but had yet to see how deeply you were entwined with him. The truth, terrible and unrelenting, thudded against your ribs, a drumbeat that would not let you rest.

Yet you could not lie to your High King. Though you had bristled at his decisions, and his ambitions chafed against your own convictions, the ancient bond of elven loyalty coursed through your veins like an unbroken chain. To deceive him would be to sever a part of yourself. And yet… you already had.

The lies you had spun were not mere words but deeds—a betrayal that had cracked like thunder across the Ages, leaving wounds that bled into the present. You had sacrificed two of the most precious things you possessed, binding them into a cause you believed would shield your people. And then Elrond, with his clear eyes and resolute heart, had taken them and fled, not out of spite but duty. A duty you could not begrudge him. He, too, sought to preserve what little hope remained.

You reached the summit of the steps, and together you bowed low before the High King. The light of the sun bathed Gil-galad in gold, and his gaze, sharp as tempered steel, seemed to pierce the very fabric of your being. Galadriel spoke, her voice steady and measured despite the storm brewing in the space between you all.

“High King,” she began, her words cutting through the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

You kept your head bowed, unwilling to meet his eyes. When Galadriel rose, so did you, though your movements were slower, your body heavy with dread. For a moment, you dared glance at Elrond, his expression unreadable as stone. Your own gaze, pained and pleading, went unanswered.

“Herald Elrond carries three Rings,” Galadriel continued, but before she could finish, the words spilled from your own lips.

“A means of halting the fading and saving our people,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute as your eyes finally met Gil-galad’s. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that made your chest constrict. He already suspected, you realized. He would not stop until he unearthed the truth, no matter how deeply you had buried it.

“We will discuss the Rings,” he said, his voice hardening, “once one of you answers the question.”

You saw Galadriel falter under the weight of his scrutiny, her usual composure fracturing like ice under pressure. You clenched your hands, clasping them tightly to stop their trembling.

“Elrond just informed me, Lady Galadriel, that this Halbrand is not who he claimed to be,” Gil-galad continued, his voice rising like a storm. His gaze swept over the two of you, thunderous and unyielding. “Yet you chose to withhold this knowledge. From him, from Lady Thilwen, and from Celebrimbor. Why?” He paused, his piercing eyes locking onto you. “Though by the look on your face, Lady Thilwen, it seems you know the answer to my question.”

Your breath hitched as his words struck home, and you dropped your gaze to your hands. The truth burned within you, a flame you could neither extinguish nor control. You could feel Galadriel’s eyes on you now, sharp and questioning, as if she believed you still unaware of the depths of the deception. But how could you be?

Your heart beat to the rhythm of his. Even now, under Lindon’s radiant light, you felt his presence, a dark tendril reaching for you across the expanse. He pulled at you, whispered promises of healing, of restoration. But you knew better. You had seen the fire smoldering in his eyes, the hunger for power masked by righteousness. He would take the Rings and twist their light to shadow, bending them to his will.

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The Sindarin words tasted bitter on your tongue, and you dared not lift your eyes.

“Who is he?” Gil-galad demanded, his tone unrelenting.

“He is not who we thought,” Galadriel interjected, her voice softer now, tinged with an emotion you could not place. Your eyes met hers for a fleeting moment, and in that shared glance, you found a fragile thread of solidarity—two hearts bruised by the same cruel deception.

Gil-galad shook his head, his patience fraying. “Why do you dance around the truth?”

“High King,” you said in Sindarin, the words flowing from you like a prayer. “You must believe she would never knowingly endanger our kind.” The lie came easily, though it left a bitter ache in its wake. For you could no longer say the same of yourself.

Even now, his presence seeped into your mind, his voice a song you longed to answer. But you would not. You could not. Whatever love you had borne for him, whatever thread still tied your fëar to his, you could not let him have the Rings. Not now. Not ever.

You had already betrayed your people once. You would not do so again.

“I will believe you when I no longer see the lie behind your eyes,” Gil-galad said, his voice sharp as flint, cutting through the growing tension like a blade. His gaze bore into you with an unrelenting weight, and you felt yourself crumbling under the combined force of his scrutiny and Galadriel’s silent grief. The weight of your secret, heavy and jagged, pressed against your chest, and for a moment you thought you might drown in it.

“Now,” he demanded, his voice colder still, “who is this Man?”

“He is no Man,” Galadriel began, her voice calm yet strained, like the taut string of a bow about to snap. But your attention wavered, your focus shifting past the High King’s piercing stare to Elrond, standing just beyond him. You watched as the realization dawned in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. He knew now. He understood.

Galadriel’s words continued, unspooling like a thread unraveling from a tapestry. “He has been… masquerading as one. Appearing in fair form, to hide his true self.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing tighter with each word. The guilt surged through you, a tempest rising in your mind, and for just a moment, your defenses faltered.

And that was all the opening he needed.

“Y/n,” his voice breathed against your ear, low and honeyed, wrapping around you like the velvet caress of shadow. The sound of your birth name on his lips froze the blood in your veins, chilling you to your core. He always wielded it like a weapon, a sharpened dagger aimed at the heart. He used it when he wanted to break you, to remind you of the bond that bound you to him like chains.

“You are going to have to tell them at some point,” he murmured, his voice dripping with malice and cruel amusement. The words coiled around your mind like smoke, suffocating and inescapable. “And they will chastise you.”

The air seemed to thin, your breath hitching as his presence grew heavier. You could feel the brush of his lips, not physical but ghostly and invasive, curling at the shell of your ear. “Exile you… And then where will you go, hmm?” he taunted, his voice dipping into a low growl. “You’ll come crawling back to me.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, spilling hot and unchecked down your face. You fought against the tremor in your hands, against the shadowy hold that wrapped around your throat, his touch intangible but no less suffocating. You could feel him trace the lines of your strained neck, his presence as real as the pounding of your heart.

Across from you, Elrond’s sharp eyes locked on yours. Concern flickered across his face, mingled with wariness. He could see the turmoil in you, the raw emotion that had taken hold. He did not understand its source, but you knew he saw enough to know something was deeply wrong.

“Get out of my head,” you hissed, your voice trembling but defiant, throwing the words like a lifeline into the void where his presence lingered.

“Only when you stop letting me in, divine,” he purred, his voice laced with mockery and sweetness that made you want to scream. His ghostly fingers brushed over your lips, teasing and cruel, before his presence faded like the last whisper of a dying breeze.

And just like that, he was gone—for now. The air around you felt lighter, though the ache in your chest lingered like the phantom grip of his hand around your throat.

You wiped at your face quickly, forcing yourself to stand straighter, to steel your composure. But as you turned your attention back to Galadriel, the words you had been dreading fell from her lips like a death knell.

“He is Sauron.”

The silence that followed was deafening, as though the world itself recoiled at the revelation. You felt the weight of it crash over you, an unrelenting tide pulling you under. And though you had known it was coming, the truth spoken aloud struck like a hammer, reverberating through the hearts of those around you.

Gil-galad stood unmoving, his face a mask of unreadable stone, but Elrond’s expression was a different story. His gaze shifted between you and Galadriel, his disbelief and horror plain as the rising moon.

And you? You stood there trembling, your nails biting into your palms as you fought to hold the walls of your mind upright, to keep him from seeping through the cracks once more. Your truth, your shame, and your devotion to him clung to you like chains, binding you to a shadow you could never truly escape.

“Let me speak with him first,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your chest. Gil-galad, who had begun to swing his leg over his mount, paused at your words, then settled back into his saddle with a measured glance. His silence pressed on you like the weight of the sun at its zenith, but when he nodded, the tension eased only slightly.

After Elrond’s leap from the cliff with the Rings, chaos had followed—the frantic search, the uncertainty, the unanswered questions that hung like shadows over Lindon. While others scrambled to piece together what had happened, you had taken it upon yourself to find him. Not only because you knew him, not only because you bore the weight of responsibility, but because you understood Elrond’s heart better than most.

Galadriel might have been the wiser choice to reason with him, her words as sharp and unyielding as the swords she once wielded. Yet you knew it was not sharpness Elrond needed now. He would turn to Círdan, or to one who carried the wisdom of many long centuries, someone who could temper logic with understanding. Though impartiality was far from your grasp at this moment, you prayed the years of trust you and Elrond shared would be enough.

“Please, High King,” you implored, your voice softer now but no less resolute. “Give me a chance to reason with him.”

Gil-galad’s brows knit together for a moment, his piercing gaze weighing your request as though to test the sincerity of your motives. Finally, he inclined his head, though his tone was clipped as he replied, “Reason quickly.”

You nodded, dismounting swiftly, your shoes crunching against the gravel-strewn path. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks, but it did little to calm the heat burning within you. With each step toward the workshop, your hands twitched, your fingers curling and flexing as if they sought to grasp the right words from the air itself. You rehearsed them silently, each phrase echoing in your mind, turning over every angle, every possible reaction.

The walk stretched out before you, each step drawing you closer to the confrontation you dreaded. The road was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind through your hair and the gentle cresting of the waves against the shore. It gave you too much time to think—of what had led you here, of what had been lost, of the choices that had brought Elrond to this moment.

When at last you reached the door, you paused, your hand hovering over the weathered wood. You exhaled slowly, the breath trembling as it left your lips. For a moment, you closed your eyes, steadying yourself. The weight of everything unsaid pressed against your chest, but you pushed it aside.

You opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in protest as the dim light of the workshop spilled out to meet you. The room smelled faintly of wood shavings and the salt of the nearby sea, a scent that had always brought you a sense of calm. Now, it felt hollow. Elrond sat at one of the craft tables, his back to you, his gaze fixed on the harbor beyond. The gentle lap of the water against the dock seemed almost in rhythm with his thoughts, though he made no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Elrond?” you said softly, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He turned slightly at the sound, just enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his burden, and though his face betrayed no anger, the sorrow etched into his features made your heart ache.

“I have come to coax you out willingly,” you continued, taking a careful step forward. “Please.” You paused, your voice faltering as the enormity of the moment settled on you. “He will remove you by force if I fail to do so.”

Elrond turned away again, his gaze returning to the water. The slump of his shoulders deepened, and you knew then that he was caught in a whirlwind of regret, his mind teetering between the justification of his actions and the guilt that gnawed at him.

“Elrond, we have been friends for centuries,” you said, your voice carrying a quiet urgency. “We have worked side by side, through trials and triumphs alike.”

You stepped closer, your movements slow and deliberate, as though any sudden action might shatter what fragile thread of trust remained. When you reached the table, you noticed a cup resting in front of him, its contents nearly gone. Lowering yourself, you knelt beside the table, your hands resting lightly on its surface to steady yourself. You hoped the gesture would show him the depth of your sincerity, the desperation in your heart.

“Please,” you said again, your voice almost breaking. “I only ask you to trust us. Trust that the Rings will help us.”

Elrond finally turned to face you, his expression a storm of doubt and disappointment. His gaze bore into yours with a piercing intensity that made you falter.

“How can you trust someone who was deceived?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

The question struck you like a blow, and you felt the walls you had carefully constructed around your guilt begin to crumble. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you hesitated. But as the silence stretched between you, you realized you could not carry this weight any longer. If there was to be any hope of mending what was broken, he had to know.

“Because I too was deceived,” you admitted, your voice trembling under the weight of the confession. Tears welled in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as you reached for his hand, clasping it in both of yours. The warmth of his touch was a fragile, though his eyes remained cautious, guarded.

“I met him ages ago,” you began, your voice thick with emotion. “In his first fair form. My fëa sang so heavily for him, like Eru himself had woven us together, destined us to be as one.”

Elrond’s eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening his features, and he pulled his hand from yours abruptly, rising to his feet. His sudden movement startled you, and you looked up at him, the tears on your cheeks glinting in the dim light.

“I married him,” you continued, the words tumbling out now, unbidden and unstoppable. “I loved him, devoted my entire life to him. Morion was him, but back then, there was no trace of shadow in him, no hint of what he would become.”

“Thilwen,” Elrond interrupted, his voice sharp and disbelieving. “How do you think—”

“I am telling you this,” you cut him off, your voice rising in desperation, “because you need to understand how deeply I have wanted to atone for my guilt, for the ruin I helped bring to this world.” Your hands clenched into fists as you looked up at him, raw anguish written across your face. “I sheltered him for centuries, blind to the truth of what he was. And when his master returned, I was cursed—damned to never have my husband back. He burned my city to the ground in a diluted, twisted hope that Morgoth would free me.”

Elrond’s face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared down at you. His silence was louder than any words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with quiet fury.

“How am I supposed to trust you on any subject after this?”

The words struck with the force of a hammer, and your composure shattered. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing against your chest as you struggled to breathe. Yet you did not look away from him, even as your tears fell faster.

“Because,” you whispered, your voice breaking, “I have nothing left to hide.” You stood once more, your legs trembling but steady enough to hold the weight of your resolve. “I sacrificed my most cherished items to make those rings,” you said, your voice firm despite the crack of emotion that threatened to betray you. “I know in my heart that he has not corrupted them, even if they were his gifts to me.”

Elrond’s expression darkened, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, his presence imposing though his voice remained calm, measured. “But are you?” he countered, his tone cutting through the space between you like a blade. “Is your heart still pure, or does he still hold a tight grip on that as well?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You looked down at the stone floor, the cold surface grounding you as the memories you had tried so desperately to bury threatened to rise once more.

“I would not be telling you this if I was still tied to him,” you replied, your voice softer now, but no less resolute. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet Elrond’s, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I loved Morion, not what he became. I mourn my husband, not his shadow.”

You paused, your words sinking into the silence between you. The ache in your chest was raw, exposed, but you would not flinch from the truth. “For all intents and purposes, Elrond, my husband is dead.”

The admission left you hollow yet oddly lighter, as though speaking the words aloud had finally released some small piece of the burden you carried. Elrond’s gaze softened, though his eyes still searched yours for any flicker of doubt, any trace of the shadow you had renounced.

But there was none. Only the pain of loss, the weight of guilt, and the unyielding determination to right what you had once helped break.

“Elrond, where are the rings?” you breathed, your voice trembling with quiet urgency. You took a step closer, searching his face for any trace of honesty, any flicker of the truth he might have been concealing. But as his gaze shifted, avoiding yours, the realization struck you like a wave crashing against the shore. This had all been a stalling game—a deliberate attempt to buy time.

“Where is Círdan?” you pressed, the name sharp on your tongue as your heart began to race. The dim light of the workshop seemed to grow heavier, the air thicker, as the weight of what Elrond had not said settled over you. The faintest flicker of guilt crossed his features, a shadow too fleeting for anyone less familiar with him to catch.

Your breath quickened, dread coiling in your chest like a serpent as you turned to look out at the horizon. Whatever had been set into motion, it was already far beyond your reach.

As the ring rested at the tip of your shoe, the soft singing rose to meet your ears, weaving a melody so familiar it felt as if it were carved into the very essence of your being. The harmony resonated with your soul, a piece of the song that had first called you into existence.

You bent down, your fingers trembling as you picked it up. The silver gleamed brilliantly in your hands, its light radiant and pure. It had once been your hairpiece, a relic of your past, but now it was something far greater: the object crafted to save your people. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

The Valar had chosen you.

A creature who had once been so pure, untainted by the darkness that had swept over so many. You were of Eru’s song, created to exist in harmony, and yet your fëa was bound to the very shadow you now sought to resist. Over countless centuries, you had been tempted by that shadow, tested by its alluring whispers, and yet you had never lost the core of your elven purity.

You saw the beauty in Eru’s design, the passion and love in his song for his Quendi. But you also understood the evil that had twisted the hearts of those who had stayed behind, who had become the Moriquendi. You had never faltered in your belief that even in the darkest places, there was light. Even in shadow, beauty could be found.

Mairon had taught you that.

Though he had been a being of shadow, with you he had radiated light. The centuries you had spent together in the brilliance of his better nature had shown you this truth. And now, as you accepted the ring into your hand, the Valar had entrusted you with a sacred honor. To be the bearer of Nenya.

Your gaze shifted to Galadriel. She stood nearby, her expression a mixture of stunned awe and quiet reverence, her sharp eyes drawn to the way the ring glimmered, as though it encompassed the very light of the stars.

You slipped Nenya onto your fourth finger, letting it rest above your silver band—the one that had once brought you so much pain to even look upon. Now, it bore its delicate blue inscription anew, shimmering in harmony with Nenya’s beauty.

As the ring settled on your hand, the weight of the air around you shifted. The shadow of your curse seemed to lighten, lifting like a veil drawn back from the horizon. For the first time in an Age, there was no taunting whisper, no pull to the Void, only a profound and radiant silence.

The silver chain around your neck, once a reminder of your burden, felt lighter as well, no longer heavy with sorrow. You stepped forward, moving toward Círdan and Gil-galad with a newfound grace. The three rings began to hum in unison, their melodies weaving together, resonating with the deep song that had always sung from within your fëa.

You looked up at them, your smile soft but certain.

The light of the tree grew brighter behind you, its radiance washing over the courtyard. The once-dead leaves began to sprout anew, their golden glow flourishing with a brilliance that defied description. The air was filled with life and energy, a harmony that resonated with the essence of all creation.

You turned, your breath catching in your chest as you took in the sight. Your world—your home—was coming alive again.

A smile of pure joy spread across your lips, the first in an Age untouched by sorrow or longing. The song, the light, the life surrounding you felt like a promise fulfilled, a sign that even in the darkest times, the light would always find its way back.

As it finally had with you.

You carefully covered the seeds, your fingers pressing the soil down gently before you whispered a few soft Quenya words into the earth. Rising, you looked up at the wooden relief of Calandil etched into the tree’s bark. Your fingers brushed away a few vines that had grown over it, revealing the finely carved features of the being who had once saved you.

A fond smile touched your lips as you gazed upon the image. Calandil—the elf who had sacrificed himself so that you, his family, and others might escape the burning city.

A part of you knew, even back then, that he had always known. He had seen through Mairon’s facade, sensed the darkness lurking beneath the golden veneer. But you had been too blinded by the pull of Mairon’s fëa, too consumed by your love, to listen.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you held them back. That final moment with Calandil was forever etched into your memory: the fires consuming the city, the cacophony of screams, and his bloodied, grime-streaked face as he pressed you to leave. You had clutched at the cool metal of his armor, begging him to come with you, but he had refused, knowing his place was to buy you time.

You had never loved him the way you loved Mairon, but Calandil had shown you a kindness and devotion you could never forget. Even after all that had happened, he had stood by you, believing in you when few others did. His sacrifice would never be in vain; you had vowed it.

Your left hand rested lightly on the bark of the tree, and you spoke more words in Quenya, your voice a soft prayer. The faint chime of the ring on your finger joined the melody, and a bittersweet smile graced your lips as you leaned forward to press your forehead against the bark.

“Thank you, my old friend, for everything you did,” you whispered.

A soft creaking of the wood responded, as though the tree itself acknowledged your gratitude, and for a moment, you felt Calandil’s presence, accepting your thanks.

“Talking to the trees again?”

You turned at the sound of Elrond’s voice. He approached slowly, his face impassive, but you could sense the agitation simmering beneath the surface. He was not pleased that you had willingly accepted the ring, knowing what he now knew of your past.

“They talk to me, and I listen,” you replied with a soft smile, but Elrond did not return it. He stopped beside you, his gaze fixed on the relief carved into the tree.

The silence stretched between you until, finally, he spoke.

“If what you’ve told me is true, then you should not return to Eregion,” he said, his voice low and measured.

“But that is why I must go,” you countered without hesitation.

Elrond turned to you then, his gaze sharp as it locked with yours. “You are hardly capable of withstanding his influence, Thilwen. Your very fëa is bound to him. Willing or unwilling, he will take the ring from you.”

“Elrond,” you sighed, turning away to look at Nenya gleaming on your finger. The sight brought a lump to your throat, but you swallowed hard, your voice steady as you continued. “The ring chose me because, out of everyone in Middle-earth,” you paused, tears spilling freely now, “I am the only one he will never see betray him. I have stood loyal to him, devoted to him, for Ages.”

“And what makes you think he won’t manipulate you, twist you into giving him the power of that ring?” Elrond pressed.

You slid Nenya off your finger, and immediately, the weight of Morgoth’s curse descended upon you. Pain shot through your body, the dark tendrils spreading across your forearm like wildfire. Pulling back your sleeve, you revealed the mark to him.

“I was marked by Morgoth so that he could keep his faithful servant at his side,” you said, your voice even but laced with emotion. Elrond’s fingers hovered near the mark, hesitating as though he feared to touch it. “Sauron’s one wish in this world is to see me healed, to see his master’s curse lifted. It is what drives the very core of his being. I am his greatest weakness, and Morgoth knew that. He will not harm me if he believes I can be healed.”

“Thilwen,” Elrond sighed heavily as you slipped Nenya back onto your finger. The pain eased instantly, the tendrils receding as though the ring’s light banished them.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “The risk is too great.”

You reached up, your hand gently brushing against Elrond’s face. “Have trust, Elrond Peredhel, for I have walked these shores longer than your ancestors have.”

A faint smile broke through his worry, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, steadying you. “I have trust in you, my lady, but it is him I do not trust.”

“Rightfully so,” you said softly, a wry smile touching your lips. “But how about you let me worry about that.”

Elrond chuckled lightly, his smile warm but tinged with sadness. The two of you stood in silence for a while, letting the tension ebb between you.

“We will see each other again, my friend,” you said after a time, your voice firm with quiet conviction. “I promise.”

#trop fic #the rings of power #sauron x reader #rings of power fic #sauron #halbrand #halbrand x reader #mairon x reader #mairon

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bbr0wni3 · 2 months ago

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A Quiet Love

(One shot)

♡ -> Legolas x reader

Summary: The fellowship gets on boat, saying goodbye to Galadriel and her land with gifts on their bodies. You step on the firm ground to camp for the night, but you get back in the water to enjoy the day with your "close friend", feelings will reflect on the water you both let get yourselves wet on.

-> Content & warnings: female reader, fluff, love confession, narrated in 2nd person.

-> word count: 1.6k

-> (a/n): hii!! Another legolas fanfic that I had on my drafts for a long time, I hope you enjoy.

I also have another fanfic in the making about eowyn (wlw), that one is a lot longer!

Sorry in advance if there are some misspelled words/grammar/phrases,etc. English is not my first language!!

Divider by @/saradika

The sun hits your skin, and you leave Lórien with a necklace brushing your collarbone. gifted by the lady of the woods, Galadriel. It's one of the most beautiful necklaces you've ever laid your hands on; it holds a green elfstone as a pendant, holded by a shiny silver chain. The other members of the fellowship also received gifts like daggers elven knives, a rope, a bow for legolas, and weirdly gimli asked for some strands of hair from Galadriel, and he was now excitedly telling you and Legolas how it all went down and how beautiful the lady Galadriel was. You three are traveling on the same boat that was also handed by the elves to help us all cross the river

You look down at the water around you. You see your reflection first, and then something else caughts your attention, Legolas is also looking down, and his face reflects on the water too, you smile shyly while you keep watching your "friend", as it's quite easy to notice that this few days the term "friends" seems to wash off as you spend more and more time together. You care a lot about each other and have a very special bound, but neither of vou dares to make the first

You all soon pass the Argonath, and everyone is looking up now, amazed by the statues. You can't help but look behind to see if Legolas is also focused on the two giant statues, but your eyes meet as soon as you turn around, he was already looking at you before, you both smile really joyfully at each other. You turn around again to catch a last glance at the statues, you blush as you connect the dots of what just happened. He was not paying attention to the statues, all this time he was paying attention to you watching them.

You hit the small stones on the shore of the Nen Hithoel Lake. Gimli gets off the boat first, all clumsy and funny of course; Legolas quickly gets off too, so when you lift your head up you see his pale hand offering you help, you grab it and lift your feet one by one to get off the boat as you smile at him, he also smiles as he risks a few caresses to your hand because he saw the sudden opportunity, you let go off his hand slowly. it almost looked like both of your hands were stuck with glue, your fingers traced down his palm until letting go.

After a few minutes, all the group is already settled, and after you help Gimli find some wood, you both light up a fire. You and Legolas are now by the shore again, playing with the little stones and sharing a moment in silence, every one and then you share looks with smiley eyes, your arms are touching from how close you are to each other.

"I have an idea to kill some time," you say to Legolas as you look at the lake while you get up.

You brush all the sand and pebbles that stick to your clothes and palms, and you look down at him playfully as you smile. As a next move, you start unbuttoning your clothes and taking off your skirt, receiving some shy glances from the elven boy. You are left with nothing but your white matching underwear that has a little white bow in the middle of both the bra and panties, a subtle detail that made Legolas' heart skip a beat. You walk towards the lake, giving your back to it while you smile at Legolas as you move your hands back and forth for him to notice that you are telling him to come and join you.

The cold water starts to cover your calves, you turn around to go further in the water, the water gets to your knees, and finally above your belly button; with your arms you swing the water around you from front to back as you watch Legolas take off his clothes quickly and smiling through the suffer as the cold water starts freezing his legs, you laugh at the sight of him, with his arms standing in the air trying to not touch the water, while he looks at it and at you multiple times.

Now, the water touches his elbow as he reaches the same depth that you are in. You have to move your legs and arms slightly to float, while he, because of his height, can almost touch the bottom of the lake. You smile at him, and you let your head fall so you wet your hair completely. He just watches you carefully. You straight up again and playfully swing your arms to splash him and get him wet. You do this and swim faster in the opposite direction while laughing out loud. Little by little, without noticing you end up leaving a distance between the two of you, you stop swimming to face him again from a distance you watch each other now, time seems to stop. lost in each others eyes

sinking motor and more into these unspoken feelings, the tension builds as neither of you seem to not want to stop looking at each other, your heart pounds loud in your ears.

little waves come to you as he starts to swim in your direction. He stops as he feels his knee brush yours down the surface

You don't let your eyes lose his fixated gaze for one second doesn't either. As the stares deepen and he brushes his fingers with yours to hold your hand. You came to the conclusion that no one ever looked at you the way he's doing so, his eyes were filled with love, but you know for a fact that yours are too.

Time has passed since you entered the water. Now is the moment where the sun and the moon meet for a second time, and you couldn't be closer to each other.

You can feel the heat that erupts from his torso and how it keeps you warm from the coldness of the water.

He raises his hand suddenly and gets it closer to your face. He grabs a strain of wet

hair that is covering one of your eyes and tucks it behind his car. His hand doesn't leave your face but now cups your ear between his fingers, his thumb hesitates but ends up gently brushing your lips from one to the other, he watches as they are tinted in a purple tone because of the temperature that surrounds you both, and in this moment you notice that no words were spoken at all, not one time you pronounced a word.

But none of you needed words for as your soft touch spoke louder.

As he keeps his thumb on your lips, you part them slightly. He looks at you in the eyes, and then at your lips, you do the same.

He brings his other hand from beneath the water and cups the other side of your face to finally break the only centimeters that were between you two.

Like a delicate string that was waiting to be Cut.

His lips are soft, as you always imagined. those times that you secretly directed your gaze at them; thin and with a beautiful hint of rose pink, it drives you crazy the way they curve when he speaks elvish with Aragorn or how they widen when he smiles at you.

A kiss filled with passion, love , but also a very sweet and gentle one. You place your hand on his chest, which catches him out of guard, and makes the kiss change its rhythm. You start tracing a lime between his pectorals and down his abs. You stop there, and he slowly separates his lips from you. You both smile as you hug him tightly, your jump to his embrace with your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you laugh and he grabs your waist to maintain this position, but you had other plans in mind, you give him a devilish smile before you let your body fall back into the water, sinking you both and making your teeth chatter from the cold, Legolas goes back up, his hair fully wet and sticked to his face. You both laugh out loud, and he playfully grabs you and starts tickling your sides till you cry from laughter. He stops as he seems to already have got his revenge , you both keep laughing and placing constant kisses on the lips and body of the other.

The stars paint the sky, and the moon

watches from above

"Hey, lovebirds! You should eat and rest, tomorrow an adventure awaits!" Gimli is heard from across the river, you both look while still hugging each other.

You and Legolas chuckle at Gimli's way to call you both, you are sure that they were all watching you both kiss and play in the water.

You get to the shore and start dressing. As you put your shoes and the necklace Galadriel gave you, you look up and see Legolas putting his pants back on, you both smile and he gets closer, pecking you in the lips making you blush and giggle.

You both go where the rest of the fellowship is. They are already eating the rabbits you catch earlier

"Here they are the lovebirds" Gimli teases again

I hope you saved us some meat because I'm starving!" You say and laugh as you take a seat next to Aragorn, Legolas sits next to you. You feel Legolas's arm pass behind your back and high fives Aragorn's hand behind you, you silent chuckle by the boys actions

You lay your head on Legolas's shoulder, and he looks at you and gives you a little kiss on the head. You smile, you are so happy that this day is going and ending this way, better than you could ever imagine

Thank you for reading!

#lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #fanfiction #the fellowship of the ring #fluff #legolas fluff

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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 5 months ago

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Lost (Galadriel x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which she sees you in her 2x02 vision instead of Celebrimbor

Warnings: angst, implied Sauron x reader

An immeasurable weight lifts itself off of Galadriel’s chest when she sees you there, safe and sound in Lindon. Your name leaves her lips as she stands from her brother’s grave.

“They did not tell me you had arrived.”

“Well, here I am,” you say softly. And so you are, but...

Something is not right. The guarded smile you give her does not quite reach your eyes. And whereas before you would not have hesitated to come to her and take her hand in yours, or even embrace her in joy of your reunion, now you make no move towards her at all.

Of course not. You must be cross, she thinks, and you have every right to be. For centuries on end you had fought by her side, believed in her even when no one else would. You were the only member of her company that had not turned against her in the mountains. You had not hesitated to leap into the ocean when she had.

And yet, despite all that, she could not find it in herself to be honest with you when she left you in Eregion. Even when you begged her to tell you what was plaguing her, the words would not leave her mouth.

Sauron is alive. You stood by his side and called him friend. Because of me.

Her shame had been too great. Rather than endure it, she had betrayed your trust. And now you will not come to her because the wound has not yet closed.

So she closes the distance between you instead, wrapping her arms around you the moment you are within reach.

“Forgive me,” she says in a trembling murmur, her regret mingling with relief as she feels you return her embrace. “I should not have left without telling you the truth. I should not have left without you.” She pulls away to look into your eyes. There is still care in your gaze, but now it is tainted by deep sorrow. Your name is heavy with regret on her lips as she says it once, twice, resting her hands on your upper arms as if to brace herself for what she must, at last, confess to you. “The reason why I acted like I did... The reason Halbrand left was because—”

“Because you discovered he was Sauron.”

Your voice is nothing but calm and understanding. Yet your words are a tidal wave, threatening to steal the ground from beneath Galadriel’s feet. Her eyes grow wide, her lips trembling. How do you know...?

Your hands settle beneath her elbows, like you are seeking to soothe her as you answer the question she hadn’t gotten to ask, “We’ve had an unexpected visitor in Eregion.”

“He has returned already?” she breathes out. There is no concealing the dread that chills her bones.

“Yes,” you nod once, “but you must not blame yourself. Had I known, it would have made no difference. I would still be standing here, as I am now.”

A half-sob escapes Galadriel’s throat. Yes, you are here, and you are unharmed. Yes, she knows you are as fierce in battle as she is and just as capable of protecting yourself, but to think how close you have come the Lord of Darkness, to a threat that might have been beyond your skill to escape, tears at her soul in ways she cannot bear.

“Had I lost you...” she murmurs.

“Oh, Galadriel,” you whisper. Your hand cups her cheek with utmost gentleness, catching a tear that had slipped from her eye. She leans into your touch, is painfully grateful for it. Your eyes shine with tears as well, carrying the same pain she feels as you speak. “You have lost me. All is lost.”

“No,” she shakes her head, willing fiery determination back into her limbs and heart as she grasps at your hand on her cheek. “No, it isn’t too late. It cannot be. We shall find the Enemy and—”

The words die in her throat. Because when she touched your hand, she found something that hadn’t been there before, and which at once demanded her attention. Her gaze drops to your hand, and she sees what it is that felt so cold and rough beneath her fingertips.

There is a ring on your finger. One with a gem black as the night, so dark it barely even reflects the sunlight. One she knows, deep in her bones, to be no ordinary ring.

One of his making.

She says your name again, this time in question. She knows the answers, but dares not ask. And you know she knows, but you tell her anyway.

“It is a Ring of Power. The very same as yours.”

“No, not like mine,” Galadriel is quick to deny, voice sharp with anger as well as fear for you. “The Three are free of his influence. Yours is tainted by the dark, poisoned by shadow. It will bring you nothing but ruin. Remove it, I beg you!”

But all that you remove is your hand from within her grasp, a small yet sharp movement which puts what feels like an insurmountable distance between you and her.

“I cannot,” you retort. You glance down at your Ring, and your voice softens. “I will not.”

You sound almost... affectionate. The sort of affection with which you would speak of her.

“You will not?” Galadriel says, barely above a whisper. For a moment, you shut your eyes, breathing as if to steady yourself before you meet her gaze again. It is your turn, now, to make a great confession.

“Because it is a ring of promise as well.”

“Promise? What sort of—?”

But she knows. As the skies darken overhead and the dread settles in her lungs, she knows exactly what you mean. Only, she cannot believe it.

She knew you had come to care for Halbrand, but she had not imagined your feelings ran so deep. Or perhaps she had not cared to see it. But even if you had fallen for the supposed lost king of the Southlanders, surely once you learned of his true nature, you would never so much as consider—

“I know what you must think,” you say, in the same eerily calm tone you did at the beginning. “All the years we spent together... Fought together... Had you asked, I would have been yours in a heartbeat. But there was nothing you wanted more than to find him. You always chose him. Now, so have I.”

“No,” Galadriel says. “No. These are his words, not yours!” She surges towards you, aiming to take hold of your hand again. You let her, but this time it isn’t only the gem that feels cold to the touch—it is your skin itself. “What has he done to you?” she asks, frantic. “Speak to me. Please, tell me what has happened! There must be a way to put this right.”

“All is right,” you insist, shaking your head as if explaining the simplest of things to one who cannot understand. “Do not fight him. Do not fight us. When next we meet, I shall be your queen. And I shall be kind to you. But I cannot be yours.”

Your words cut deep, fueling the flames of despair that have taken hold in Galadriel’s heart. She cannot believe what she is seeing, what she is hearing. You do not have to be hers, she wants to say, even if she wishes desperately that she had told you what you meant to her when she had the chance. You can belong to whomever you wish, so long as you are happy—so long as it is not Sauron himself—

She means to say it. But in a blink, you are gone, and she is back inside Gil-galad’s council chamber.

“And what says the Commander of the Northern Armies?” the High King asks. “Galadriel?”

And so Galadriel knows that the nightmare is over. You truly are in Eregion, and Sauron in the guise of Halbrand may truly be on his way there, or already with you. But the Ring on your finger, and the way your mind had been twisted... She knows that was but a vision given to her by her own Ring of Power, a possible future which has yet to materialize, but which is terrifyingly possible.

She vows to herself, then and there, that she will not let it come to pass.

#galadriel x reader #galadriel x fem!reader #galadriel x female reader #the rings of power #morfydd clark!galadriel

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shirefantasies · 9 months ago

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LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

�� It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

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warriorofthought · 3 months ago

Text

The Pendant

Summary: A Pendant holds memories, but can it bring back your happiness?

Word count: 6461

Warnings: Sentimental but practically no one

Adar x Female Elf Reader

Inside the dimly lit tent, Elrond sat tense yet composed, his gaze fixed on the unsettlingly calm Adar. The distant crackle of fires and orcish murmurs filled the night outside, but his thoughts were solely on Galadriel, held captive nearby, as you and two elven guards stood watch behind him.

“You must release her,” Elrond demanded, his voice low but edged with urgency. “This fight is between us. She has no part in it.”

Adar’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his scarred face barely illuminated by the firelight. “No part? She is woven into the very fabric of this world's decay, just like you, Herald. Her light dims as the shadow rises.”

Elrond stepped forward, eyes hardening with resolve. “You may have twisted your own kind, poisoned them with your hatred, but you will not break her spirit.”

Adar stood slowly, leaning closer, his voice a dark whisper. “Spirit does not survive the darkness, Elf. It withers, like everything else.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but Elrond remained a pillar of strength. “Not her. You underestimate what endures in the light.”

Adar’s eyes narrowed, his smile fading as silence filled the space between them. “Give me the Ring and we can finish Sauron.”

“It would be a foolish act to bring it here,” Elrond replied, his voice serious.

“You are a couturier. More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword,” Adar mocked.

“You’ve never seen me wield either,” Elrond countered.

Your eyes watch both discuss and then Your eyes flicker to your dear friend Galadriel.

Your form is mostly hidden under the cloak.

When she spoke, Adar immediately ordered, “If she speaks again, cut her tongue.”

You and the guards stiffened, hands instinctively moving to your sword handles, a strand of your hair slips from the cloak.

He lets his eyes move back to Elrond.

Elrond watched you intently, silently communicating a warning to keep your composure. His gaze flitted back to Adar, his expression stern and tense, his hands clenching into fists.

Adar leaned on a pole, eyes flickering to you, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “She’s quiet,” he drawled. “A rare quality in these lands.”

Elrond tensed further, anger flickering across his face. “Leave her out of this, Adar.”

Adar's eyes flicker back to Galadriel.

Under the intense gaze of Adar, Galadriel's eyes met his, a storm of defiance and anger burning within them. Adar let out a small chuckle, seemingly satisfied with the reaction.

As Adar walks, a pendant slips out from beneath his clothes, catching your eye.

The pendant, an unusual piece of jewelry, had your curiosity piqued. Adar had turned his attention back to Elrond, seemingly unaware of the item that had slipped out.

“That pendant…. who gave it to you?” The question lands with a weight that leaves little room for an answer.

The Pendant displays a trio of purple, blue, and green stones, seamlessly arranged and etched with intricate elven runes, exuding an air of mystical elegance.

The moment your voice cut through the tense air, Adar's eyes flickered towards you, his face hardening as he became aware of your attention on the pendant. He quickly shoved it back into his clothes, but the damage was done.

"It is none of your concern," he responded gruffly, his fingers still lingering on his chest, where the pendant was hidden.

"It's a rare elven Pendant and clearly doesn't belong to an Orc. From whom did you took that." You snarl.

It looks like the one you have made centuries ago. Could it be your's?

A brief flash of surprise crossed Adar's face as your words hit their mark. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing as he contemplated how to respond.

"It was a... gift," he finally replied, his voice low and guarded. "From an old friend.”

You scoff, about to step forward, but Elrond’s hand catches your arm, grounding you. “Remember, we’re here for Galadriel,” he murmurs, steadying your resolve. With a quiet sigh, you hold back, though the curiosity in your gaze remains sharp.

Adar watched the interplay between you and Elrond, his expression guarded.

"Enough," Elrond said, his voice firm. "We're here to discuss the terms of Galadriel's release. Nothing else.”

Adar's eyes flicked between you and Elrond, his gaze lingering on you both. He took a few steps closer, studying the two of you.

"And what makes you think I'd let my prisoner go so easily?" he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Adar continued "You don't have the ring I want. I see no reason to give Galadriel back to you.”

Elrond took a moment to process Adar’s words, his expression hardening with resolve.

"We cannot give you the Ring," he said firmly. "It is not an object to be used for trades and exchanges.”

Adar let out a bitter laugh at that comment.

"Ah, the honorable Elf. Always righteous, even in defeat," he taunted. "But you forget, this War isn't about honor. It's about survival.”

“If you have no intention of setting her free, then grant them a moment for a proper farewell,” you state.

Adar paused his gaze flickering between you and Elrond, weighing your words. After a long moment, he waved a hand dismissively.

"Very well," he said grudgingly. "Let them say their goodbyes.”

———————————————————

You and Elrond exited the shadowy tent, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere within.

His face was drawn with concern, eyes cast downward as you walked silently beside him.

With the guards, you made your way away from the Orc camp.

Soon after, you settled into a tent at the elven camp, where Elrond soon walked in.

You sat quietly in the simple elven tent, the silence broken only by the rustle of fabric and the quiet breathing of the guards stationed outside.

As Elrond entered the tent, his usually composed face now lined with tension and worry. He sat down across from you, his eyes meeting yours, a wealth of unspoken thoughts reflected in them.

Elrond glanced at you, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes as he realized you had momentarily lost sight of Galadriel’s plight, distracted by the pendant Adar wore.

His gaze searched yours, revealing his concern. He knew you well enough to notice how your attention had shifted, captivated by the pendant instead of focusing on Galadriel's fate.

"You focused more on the pendant than Galadriel," he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of frustration.

“Galadriel is safe. You gave her the key along with your farewell kiss, so she’ll be here shortly.”

Elrond let out a surprised huff at your comment, his frustration replaced by a touch of amusement. "You're more confident in my tactics than I am," he replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You slightly chuckle. "You are smart, Elrond. You should have more thrust in yourself.”

Elrond's smirk softened at your words, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Coming from you, that's quite the compliment," he said, the teasing tone back in his voice. "You've always believed in my abilities more than I have myself.”

The atmosphere between you and Elrond shifted slightly, the tension from earlier melting away in the quiet tent. Elrond leaned back, his gaze softening further as he looked at you.

"Speaking of sharp minds," he said with a touch of wry humor. "You're awfully interested in that pendant.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you reply.

Elrond raised an eyebrow at your denial, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't play coy," he replied, his tone a tad playful. "I saw the look on your face when you first saw that pendant.”

"It's like it held some secret, some hidden meaning," he continued, watching your expression closely. "Why were you so intrigued by an orcish pendant, anyway?”

"That’s an Elven Pendant," you nearly spat.

Elrond's eyes widened slightly at your sudden vehemence. He leaned forward, the previous lightheartedness gone from his expression.

"How can you tell?" he asked, an edge in his voice. "And why does it anger you so much?”

"You can't dismiss it as a filthy orc pendant when it's clearly elven," you retort.

Elrond's surprise at your reaction to the pendant slowly morphed into understanding.

"But why does it bother you so much?" he asked, more gently this time. "It's just a piece of metal and jewels. Why does it matter so much to you?”

“It’s more than just a chunk of metal or jewelry. I created it,” you say, a hint of pain in your voice at being reduced to something so simple.

Elrond's eyes went wide with shock, his composure slipping for a brief second, before it returned.

"You made it?" he echoed, disbelief and realization dawning on his face. "You made that pendant?”

"Tell me, are you slow on the uptake or what? I said I did make it, what's so difficult to understand about that?”

Elrond shot you a glare at the blunt jab to his intelligence, but he took a deep breath, collecting himself before replying.

"No, I'm not slow," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I just can't believe that you, of all people..." he trailed off, his mind still sorting through the implications of your revelation.

"What? Make jewelry. That was centuries ago.”

"I know it was centuries ago," Elrond said, his voice growing more heated. "But you never told me you made jewelry before, and now you're suddenly upset that someone is wearing something you made?"

He stood up, beginning to pace the small space of the tent, his frustration growing with every step.

“Because I gave it to my husband,” you say, frustration creeping into your voice, unaware that you've just revealed something you had intended to keep hidden. The weight of your words lingers in the air, shifting the atmosphere between you.

Elrond's pacing came to an abrupt halt, your words freezing him on the spot.

"Your husband?" he repeated, his voice a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "You were married?"

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense and searching.

“I... What?” you breathe out, struggling to process your own words. A mix of surprise and confusion washes over you, leaving you momentarily speechless.

Elrond stared at you, his mind swirling with questions and realizations.

"You were married," he repeated, a note of incredulity in his voice. "You, the fierce warrior who has been by my side through countless battles and dangers, you never thought to mention having a husband in all that time?”

Your stunned silence confirmed his suspicion. Elrond let out a long breath, his expression shifting from disbelief to something more resembling hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with a mix of disappointment and confusion.

Your mind is racing but you don't get a word out.

Elrond sees the turmoil in your eyes, the struggle to find an explanation written all over your face. His expression softens slightly, but there's still a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

"How many years have we known each other? Fought together, bled together, shared meals and tales and laughter?" he asks quietly, still waiting for an answer.

"Almost 1800 years." You answer with a sigh.

Elrond falls silent for a moment, processing the magnitude of that number. 1800 years. More than a millennium of friendship, trust, and adventures together.

"1800 years," he echoes quietly. "And you never thought to mention a husband. Why?”

You look over at the fire.

Elrond's gaze follows yours to the flickering fire in the center of the tent. For a moment, there's a tense silence, filled only by the crackle of the flames.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions before inquiring further. “Who was he?”

You exhale softly, lost in thought.

“He was a strong elf, mischievous, but with a kind and gentle heart.”

“He had black hair that always caught the light, shimmering like polished obsidian in the sun.”

Elrond listens intently to your description, his face betraying a mixture of emotions as he pictured the mystery man.

"He sounds like an impressive individual," he says quietly, his eyes still fixed on the fire. "And yet I've never met him, nor have you ever mentioned him before.”

“I had a mission to complete, and before I left, I gave him the necklace as a parting gift. Then I set off from the village. When I returned after the mission, I found the village in ruins, completely destroyed.”

Elrond's expression darkened as you related the tragic tale of your return, destruction and loss where there should have been home and comfort.

"You came back to find everything gone?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nod. " I found my parents body, his parents but not him.”

Elrond's expression was grave as he listened to your words. The pain of losing your loved ones was clear in your voice, your eyes distant as you remembered that day.

"You never found him?" he asked softly.

"no, not a glimpse”

Elrond reaches out, a subtle gesture of comfort, his hand gently touching your arm. There's a look of understanding in his eyes, a painful empathy for the loss you've suffered.

"Do you..." he begins, his voice hesitant. "Do you think he survived?”

“That could be possible. He was always stubborn. I suppose it’s possible he simply has amnesia and forgot me or something along those lines. It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t remember.”

A small flicker of hope crossed Elrond's face at your words. The possibility of a loved one lost, but still alive, igniting a spark of optimism.

"It's possible," he said, his voice holding a note of comforting encouragement. "People have survived worse, with their memories intact. And if he's as stubborn as you say, then he may yet be out there, somewhere, waiting to be found."

“It unsettles me to see Adar wearing his pendant,” you say, a knot forming in your stomach. “Every glance at it reminds me of what I’ve lost and the memories I wish I could erase.”

Elrond nodded, his mind returning to the original topic of discussion. The fact that Adar wore the pendant you made was clearly weighing heavily on your mind.

"It must have been a shock to see someone else wearing something so personal," he said quietly, understanding the depth of your emotions.

“I didn’t forget Galadriel, but when it fell from Adar’s clothes, I thought I had lost it for good,” you say, your voice laced with sorrow.

Elrond listened intently, his expression a mixture of sympathy and understanding. He knew you well enough to know that your feelings were complicated and deeply personal.

"I understand," he said softly. "You didn't forget Galadriel, but seeing that pendant brought back memories, emotions long buried.”

"I think you both would have been good friends..”

Elrond gave a small, bittersweet smile at your heartfelt comment. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he responded.

"I agree," he said quietly. "If he were still here, I think we would have gotten along well. And Galadriel would have liked him too.”

For a few moments, Elrond and you sat in silence, both lost in your thoughts. The memory of your lost love hung in the air, a poignant reminder of what had been lost.

Finally, Elrond spoke up, his voice soft and gentle.

"Can I ask you something?” You nod.

Elrond looks at you intently, his gaze full of unspoken questions and emotions.

"Why haven't you ever spoken about him?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. "All the time we've spent together, through battles, feasts, and quiet evenings, you've never once mentioned having a husband, a love who you lost.”

“First of all, you never asked, and second, I don’t want to dwell on it. I searched for centuries and still haven’t found him.”

Elrond listened to your reasons, his expression unreadable as he took in your words.

"I never asked because I never realized," he said quietly. "You're my closest friend, my sister in arms, and yet you've kept this part of your life hidden. I don't blame you for searching, but..." he trailed off, his eyes filled with a mix of understanding and melancholy.

"All those centuries of searching must have been so difficult," he continued. "Did you ever think about giving up? Moving on and finding someone else?”

“Moving on? No, that would feel like a betrayal to his memory and everything we shared.”

Elrond nodded silently, understanding the depth of your loyalty and devotion.

"It must have been lonely, though," he said quietly. "All those years, alone and searching…”

“He could be alive somewhere, still thinking of me, longing for me, and unable to find me. I can’t break the promise we made to each other without knowing for sure that he’s gone.”

Elrond's heart ached at the depth of your devotion to your lost love. The idea that he could still be out there, somewhere, remembering you, aching for you, touched a part of him that understood loss all too well.

"I admire your loyalty," he said softly, his voice filled with both respect and sadness. "But the odds of finding him, after all this time…”

“I don’t want to hear that,” you interrupted, frustration rising in your chest. “It feels like giving up on him, and I can’t do that.”

Elrond fell silent, realizing that his words, though driven by concern, were not what you wanted or needed to hear. He changed tact, his voice softer now.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just don't want to see you hurt any further. But I can see that your spirit is strong, your hope unbroken. I will not question your path any further.”

A bit later Galadriel walks into the tent.

Galadriel's slender figure appeared in the opening of the tent, her gaze immediately falling on you and Elrond. She looked tired but unharmed, a hint of relief present in her eyes.

Elrond stood up, greeting her with a warm smile, his worry for her evident in his expression.

“So, Elrond’s little farewell kiss actually worked...” you chuckle softly, recalling the key he had given her. It had proven invaluable, enabling her escape when she needed it most.

Elrond shot you a look, his cheeks reddening slightly at your teasing comment. Galadriel chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Yes, his little trick came in quite useful," she said, a hint of amused gratitude in her voice.

Elrond rolled his eyes at your playful banter, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

"Well, I'm glad it helped," he said, trying to maintain a hint of dignity. "But let's not make a habit of using my romantic overtures as a tactical maneuver, shall we?”

"Why not?" You slightly giggle amused and make place for Galadriel by the fireplace.

Elrond shot you a mock glare, his lips twisted into a half-smile despite himself.

"Because it's humiliating," he replied, a hint of mock seriousness in his voice. "I have a reputation to maintain as a leader, not a pawn to be used in escape plans."

Galadriel joined you by the fire, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“You can be both a leader and someone who knows how to share a kiss.”

Elrond stifled a laugh at your impudent remark, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"Is that so? I suppose I might have to start a new strategy, then: using kisses as persuasive tactics in war councils," he said, his tone joking but with a hint of challenge.

You laugh. "Would be a surprise for them.”

Elrond chuckled, his earlier embarrassment giving way to a light-hearted banter.

"Yes, it certainly would," he agreed, "imagine a council of hardened warriors being left with a bunch of blushing fools after a particularly effective...tactical kiss.”

The image of a bunch of flustered warriors stammering and blushing after witnessing a strategic kiss was too much. All three of you shared a hearty laugh, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the fire and friendly banter.

————————————————————

A few days later, you slip away from the elven camp, moving quietly into the orc camp undetected. You make your way into Adar’s tent, finding it empty. As your eyes scan the space, they land on the pendant, and you reach for it, studying its details closely.

The familiar sight of the pendant lying innocently on a small table sent a wave of emotions through you. The delicate craftsmanship, the intricate patterns, all spoke of a past you longed for and a love that still echoed in your heart.

You picked up the pendant, cradling it carefully in your hands. The cool touch of the metal against your skin felt strangely familiar, as if it was your own heartbeat against your fingertips.

"the same metal and stones.”

You turn the pendant over, your eyes going over every detail. The metal, the setting, the stones - they were all so familiar, so deeply ingrained in your memory.

"The same," you murmur softly, your voice filled with a mixture of wonder and nostalgia. "As if not a day has passed since I made it.”

Before you can react, a hand seizes your hair, and a dagger presses against your throat. Adar's gaze roams over you, assessing your presence.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you feel Adar's hand grip your hair, pulling you back against his chest. The cold steel of the dagger against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. You had been so focused on the pendant that you didn't hear him enter.

"What are you doing in my tent?" Adar's voice is low and dangerous, his breath hot against your ear. He tightens his grip on your hair, the dagger's edge digging slightly into your skin.

"aren't you seeing what I'm doing?”

"Yes, I am seeing what you are doing," Adar replies, his voice cold and menacing. He gives your hair a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at him. "You're sneaking around in my tent without permission.”

Your eyes meet his. "That's true..”

Adar's gaze locks onto yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and malice. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks.

"And why, pray tell, are you sneaking around in here, looking at my things?”

"The pendant is mine.”

Adar's eyes narrow at your assertion, his grip on you tightening. He gazes down at the pendant in your hand, then up at your face, suspicion in his gaze.

"You're claiming ownership of this pendant?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“I am. I crafted it myself,” you reply, standing your ground despite the danger.

Adar's eyes widen slightly at your declaration, disbelief and intrigue flickering across his face. He gazes down at the pendant clutched in your fingers, the realization of your connection to it sinking in.

"You...made it?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of surprise.

You draw your dagger, but Adar is quicker, forcing you to your knees and disarming you with ease. The sudden shift catches you off guard, and a startled gasp escapes your lips as your dagger clatters to the floor.

The pendant, once clutched tightly in your hand, tumbles onto the pillow, its fragile presence contrasting sharply with the tense power struggle unfolding between you.

Adar stands over you, his tall figure imposing in the dim light of the tent. He looks down at you, a mixture of anger and interest in his eyes.

"You have quite the nerve," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "Sneaking into my tent, trying to claim a pendant as your own, and then pulling a blade on me?”

Adar watches you closely, his eyes taking in every detail of your expression. He can see the frustration in your eyes, the anger and defiance in your body language.

He crouches down next to you, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me," Adar commands, his voice firm and authoritative. "You're in my tent, you tried to steal from me, and then you attempted to attack me. And all because of a pendant you say you made.”

“Hold it to the fire, and the inscription will become visible.”

Adar's eyes narrow as you mention the lettering, his interest piqued. He releases your chin, his gaze flickering to the pendant on the pillow.

"And what does this lettering say?" he asks, his voice suddenly intense.

“In the quiet whisper of the wind through the trees, you may find what my heart dares not speak aloud,” you reply, feeling Adar’s heart lift slightly as he recognizes the words he once heard centuries ago.

As your words float through the tent, Adar's eyes widen, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. The inscription, the words you uttered, hold a significance that can't be denied. It triggers something in him, a memory, a feeling he thought long buried.

Adar's gaze remains fixed on you, his expression cautious, as he holds the pendant over the fire. The metal warms against the flames, and slowly, the familiar lettering begins to become visible.

With each flicker of the fire, the words he once thought forgotten are slowly revealed.

Adar's breath hitches in his throat as he stares at the now-visible lettering, his hand beginning to shake slightly. The sight of the words, written by your own hand, stirs something deep within him, memories and emotions long suppressed bubbling to the surface.

“The pendant isn’t yours,” you declare.

Adar's gaze snaps from the pendant, back to you. There's a flicker of anger in his eyes, as if your words have somehow insulted him.

"And it doesn't belong to you either," he says, his voice quiet but tinged with irritation.

He holds the pendant up in front of your face, the letters now fully visible against the metal's surface.

"This pendant was made centuries ago, yet you claim to be its creator," he says, his voice laced with a strange mixture of curiosity and doubt. "How can I be sure you're telling the truth?”

Adar's gaze roams over your form, taking in every feature, every detail. There's a hint of recognition in his eyes, as if something about you seems both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

His eyes linger on your features - your hair, your beautiful eyes, your elvish ears, your pale skin, your cherry-red lips. Something about your look triggers a memory, a feeling he can't quite place.

He reaches out, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of your ear. The touch is almost tender, his fingers exploring the shape, the texture, as if trying to confirm his own suspicions.

Adar's touch causes your ear to twitch slightly, a small reaction that doesn't escape his notice. A hint of a smile touches his lips, as if he finds this small detail somehow endearing.

He continues to explore, his fingers tracing over your cheek, your jaw, as if committing every feature to memory.

"You look so familiar.." he murmurs, his voice betraying curiosity and a hint of wonder.

As he studies your face, his gaze intent, he slowly circles around you.

"Very familiar.." he repeats, his voice quieter now, as if he's speaking more to himself than to you.

His eyes roam over your hair, your ears, your slender neck, and a frown of concentration forms on his face. Something about you is stirring memories, awakening something in his heart he thought long dead.

He stops in front of you once again, his eyes boring into yours. The expression on his face is a mix of confusion and realization, as if the pieces of a puzzle are slowly falling into place.

"Who.. Who are you?" he asks softly, his voice holding a tremble of uncertainty.

“Y/n”

Adar's eyes widen ever so slightly as you give your name, your simple answer triggering something within him.

"Y/n.." he repeats, your name rolling off his tongue like a long-forgotten melody. The sound of it seems to ignite something deep within him, stirring memories and feelings he'd thought lost to time.

"the pendant, how did it get into your hands?”

Adar's expression hardens at your question, his jaw clenching as if you've hit a nerve.

"That's none of your business," he snaps, his voice sharp. "It belongs to me, and I don't have to explain its origins to you.”

“It belonged to my husband,” you snap.

Adar's eyes narrow, his anger tinged with a hint of curiosity.

“Your husband?” he echoes, disbelief evident in his voice. “You’re claiming this pendant was his?”

“Yes, I gave it to him before I set out on a mission,” you assert firmly.

What neither of you realize is that this moment resonates with a deeper connection, Adar had received a pendant from his own beloved before she embarked on her journey, but neither of you recognizes the shared history that binds you.

As your words sink in, the realization of their significance hits Adar like a ton of bricks. The way you describe giving the pendant to your husband, just as he had received a similar piece from his own loved one, sets something off in his mind.

His eyes widen as the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place.

"Who.. What was your husband's name?" he asks, his voice suddenly shaky.

“Sytal”

Adar's heart seems to skip a beat as you say your husband's name.

"Sytal..." he repeats, the name rolling off his tongue like a long-lost song. Memories, feelings, and realization swirl in his eyes, the connection becoming more apparent with each word you utter.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze intense, studying your face with an almost desperate look.

"Describe him, your husband," he demands, his voice taut with emotion.

You frown slightly.

“He had black hair that shimmered in the sunlight, and a scar on his right ear from when my arrow grazed him. His mind was sharp, a true warrior like me... Mischievous, gentle, and kind.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over you as you remember the moments you shared, each memory a bittersweet reminder of what you’ve lost.

As you describe your husband, Adar listens intently, his expression becoming more and more captivated.

Each trait you mention ignites a memory within him, each word drawing pictures in his mind's eye. The description of the scar on your husband's ear, the one caused by your own arrow, hits him hard, awakening an ache in his heart.

"I have been searching for him, since centuries and now you have his pendant.."

Adar's eyes flicker with a mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion. The realization that the pendant he has cherished for centuries belonged to your husband - the same man you have been searching for - creates a maelstrom of emotions in his chest.

His grip on the pendant tightens, his knuckles turning white as his own memories of his loved one flood his mind.

"Who gave it to you?" You ask again.

Adar hesitates for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Reluctantly, he speaks again, his voice low and heavy.

"A female. A Warrior," he begins, his words slow and measured as if the memory is painful to recall. "She gave it to me before she left on a dangerous mission. She said she would return.”

You slowly stand up from your kneeling position.

"Do you have her name or a nickname?”

As you rise to your feet, Adar tracks your movements closely, his eyes wary and conflicted. At your question, he falters for a moment, as if the memory stings.

“Her nickname...” he begins, his voice rough with emotion. “I called her... moonshine... She adored it.”

“Because she lit up like the moon whenever she saw you, right?” you add, a knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Adar's eyes widen slightly, your words hitting him with an unexpected force. It's like you had read his mind, like you know the very thoughts he had harbored in his heart.

"Yes.. that's exactly why.." he responds, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You look at him and move closer. You know it's a bold move but you cub his face and look at his right pointed ear, having a hunch.

As you approach him, Adar tenses slightly, unsure of your intentions. But your touch is surprisingly gentle, your gaze focused on his ear.

He doesn't pull away, instead he allows you to inspect his ear, his heart hammering against his chest.

The sight of the healed but unmistakable scar on Adar's ear makes your blood run cold. It's the same scar you had inflicted on your husband, a mark as unique as a fingerprint.

"The scar.." you murmur, your voice tight with emotion. "It's the same..”

You meet Adar's eyes. "Who destroyed our village, my love. Who killed our parents? Who was the one that took you away from me?”

Your words strike Adar like a dagger to his heart. They're filled with a mix of anger, accusation, but also love and sorrow.

His eyes widen as he realizes the truth you're hinting at, the words catching in his throat.

"How... How do you know-”

"You are my Sytal.."

Adar's eyes are wide and disbelieving, his mind struggling to process the truth that's crashing down around him. He looks at you, really looks at you, truly seeing you for the first time.

Your eyes, the color of which he could never forget. The way you hold yourself, the familiar curve of your lips... it all resonates with him so deeply, it's like a part of his soul that's been lost is finally being returned.

But alongside the realization, there's a deep well of guilt and self-loathing.

"You were once an elf, right? Centuries ago?"

Adar nods slowly, his expression still one of shock and disbelief.

"Yes... I was once an elf. Before..." he hesitates, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Before I was made like I am now.”

"and your elven name, do you remember it..”

Adar's eyes flicker as he calls upon the distant memories of his past life. It's been centuries since he's dwelt on them, and it takes him a moment to retrieve the name he once held before he was... changed.

"My elven name..." he murmurs, the syllables of his long-forgotten name coming to his lips. "It was Sytal.”

"You are him.. you're really him..”

Adar nods slowly, a mix of guilt and heartbreak etched on his face.

"Yes..." he whispers, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I am... I am him."

The weight of realization settles between you, the truth of your identities and shared past crashing over you both. Emotions churn through you, too overwhelming to bear. Your vision blurs, and before you can steady yourself, everything fades to black.

Adar’s eyes widen as you sway unsteadily, then collapse. Reacting instantly, he lunges forward, catching you before you hit the ground. His arms wrap protectively around you, and he gently lowers you, his hands cradling your head in his lap.

“No... no, no...” he murmurs, his voice filled with panic and regret. He strokes your hair, his heart racing as he gazes down at your unconscious face. Emotions he had buried for decades now break free, shock, guilt, worry, and an ache he can barely contain. The memory of who you were to him, who you still are, pierces through him, raw and real.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he studies your face, taking in every familiar line and feature. Trembling, he lifts a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing tenderly over your skin, as if hoping this touch could somehow bridge the years of separation, the pain he’s caused.

As he holds you, you stir slightly, a faint movement that sends a flicker of hope into his eyes. He cradles you closer, his hand cupping your face with a gentleness that belies his strength.

“Y/n...” he whispers, his voice soft and aching. “Can you hear me?”

As your eyes flutter open, Adar’s face comes into focus above you, his features softened by worry and a tenderness you recognize but thought you’d never see again. His hand rests against your cheek, as if assuring himself that you’re real, here, beside him.

“Y/n,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. You smile faintly, grounding yourself in his presence, and your gaze drifts down to something glinting at his chest, the pendant.

“You kept it?” you murmur, surprise and warmth mingling in your voice.

Adar’s expression falters, and he glances away, shame flickering across his face. “It was all I had left of you,” he admits, voice thick with regret. “But you… you’re unchanged, as beautiful as the day I last saw you. And I.." He hesitates, looking down at himself, the scars and hardened edges from years in darkness weighing heavily on him. “I don’t know if I’m the man you gave it to anymore.”

You tighten your hold on his hand, your voice gentle yet resolute. “Adar, you kept that pendant because you never let go of who you were. And I haven’t, either. You’re still the man I loved, no matter what time and the world tried to do to us.”

A tear slips down his cheek as he looks at you, both surprised and touched by your words. “But… you deserve more than this broken shell,” he whispers, the insecurity in his voice breaking your heart.

“Then let’s be whole together,” you say, reaching up to stroke his face, your thumb tracing a gentle line over the scarred skin. “I spent lifetimes longing to find you again. Nothing else matters to me now. Nothing.”

At this, his composure finally crumbles. With a soft, trembling breath, he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if anchoring himself in the storm of emotions. “I never stopped loving you,” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of awe and relief. “I never will.”

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, a reconciliation, a homecoming. The weight of all those years, all the missed moments, falls away.

When you pull back, you’re both smiling, a shared, quiet joy that speaks of acceptance, of strength, and of an unbreakable bond. You rise together, hand in hand, stepping out of the tent into the fresh light of dawn. The path ahead may still be unknown, but it’s one you’ll walk side by side, as elf and orc, bound by a love that time and trials could never sever.

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