#glorfindel x mîr x lindir

[justpostsyeet]

Legolas : I can't wait to meet Lady Mîr, I have heard that she's so beautiful, so patient-

*Lindir scream past him as Mîr chases him down with a fork for calling her tiny cat again*

Legolas : so wise in decision-making-

Mirkwood Elf Guard : That's Lady Mîr, right? She's so unco-

Legolas : Now, Now, Don't we want to keep our jobs?

Mirkwood Elf Guard :

Legolas : so gentle.......oh! I can't wait to OFFICIALLY meet her.

[justpostsyeet]

Glorfindel : I want a baby!

Lindir : Oh no! Its that time of the month again. Hide Mîr.

Mîr enters the room. Lindir throws her over the shoulder and runs with Glorfindel running after.

Mîr : I knew elves got baby fever but never knew it was this bad.

Lindir : At least I'm better at handling such things.

Mîr : Shut up and run faster you soon to be rabbit in heat.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin universe Origin story

Chapter 6 - Mîr, the mime

A/n - I'm so sorry. I didn't updated the story for months.

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The rest of the evening was uneventful for her. She ate and slept. When she woke up, it was already bright sunlight hurting her eyes. "Wow, I slept too well for someone in peril," she muttered. She searched for her glasses. Putting them on, she sat up and saw Feanor standing in the corner, staring at her soul. She let out a strangled gasp. "Feanor, what the hell?" she said. Feanor came close and repeated, "Feanor, what the hell?" with a questioning look. "No, no," she said. "I wouldn't teach you to swear."

She huffed and became silent. Feanor was with another woman. She gave her a tray filled with a water basin, some powder, and tiny clothes. Feanor motioned to her and taught her to clean her teeth. It wasn't her regular toothbrush and paste, but it was still refreshing. They changed her dress. Her new dress was brown with orange and red embroidery at its cuffs. It was a surprising fit for her body. "Don't tell me you sewed it all night," she said to Feanor. Even though Feanor didn't say anything, she just nodded. The lack of communication was frustrating sometimes, but for now, she could deal with it. Feanor called her Mîr. She looked up, knowing it wasn't her name, but the creatures here had started to address her as Mîr. So, whatever floats the boat.

Feanor insisted on combing her hair, but that was a problem. Mîr had been gifted with unruly curly hair, which she stubbornly kept cut in layers. Yesterday, she had tied it in a messy bun as soon as it was semi-dry. Now, it was frizzy and tangled. The poor woman was struggling, and her action hurt Mîr's head.  Mîr was reminded of her poor mother struggling to brush her hair and her grandmother lovingly making her sit down and combing it. She was also hit by a sudden image of herself floating in water with someone calling her hair beautiful from behind. These colliding memories made her head spin. She closed her eyes, finding it hard to remember without two types of memory coming to give her a headache. She opened her eyes to see Feanor giving her a concerned look.  She smiled and guided Feanor to a seat. She took the comb from her and took out a piece of hair, combing it like her grandmother had taught her. Feanor's eyes lit up, and she more or less snatched the comb back, looking at her eagerly. Mîr smiled and sat down. This time, Feanor was seated, and she was sitting by her feet. She repeated the motion to detangle her hair. Mîr wanted to say that her hair had a special affection for getting tangled; it would get tangled in a few minutes. But she was sure Feanor would not understand.

Feanor combed, styled her hair, recombed to detangle, and repeated. Mîr had to agree it did feel nice. When Feanor was done, Mîr couldn't see what she had done to her hair, but Feanor brought two pots. One she patted all over Mîr's face. It was... translucent powder? "Please don't be lead," she thought. "These people remind me so much of medieval times." Then Feanor pulled out a smaller pot and a small brush, putting a red tint on Mîr's lips. When she was done, she was smiling. Mîr couldn't help but smile back. "So, am I your dress-up doll?" she said. Feanor just nodded and said something in her own language, then motioned her to follow.

Mîr was taken across the building, and she couldn't help but appreciate its beauty. There were carved designs, paintings, and beautiful curtains and furniture. It reminded her of many old castles and monuments she had visited. The building seemed to be mostly made of cement with stone pillars, each carved with patterns, the most common being fish scale-like designs. While she was walking and admiring the beauty of the building, she didn't realize they had arrived at a large door. Foolishly, she stood at the door like an idiot, thinking about what kind of wood was used to make it, until Feanor coughed and motioned for her to go in.

Inside were all the people she had met yesterday. On the large stone table were her belongings, all spread out. "So, it's questioning time," she thought, taking a deep breath and readying herself for a round of interrogation.

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Glorfindel watched her with amusement. She looked so adorable, staring at the door as if pondering some deep question. He often wondered what went on in her mind. When she entered the room, her eyes lit up upon seeing her things. She took a deep breath and looked at them, seeming to understand the purpose of the gathering. Glorfindel exchanged a glance with the others, then gestured for her to step forward.

"Please," he said gently, "come closer. We need to ask you some questions about your belongings."

Glorfindel and the others watched her closely, occasionally exchanging glances and murmuring among themselves. She could see they were trying to piece together the puzzle of her life and belongings, just as she was trying to understand their world.

First, she picked up her pouch of vials and brushes. She pulled out a lipstick and mimed applying it to her lips, then did the same with some powder, patting her cheeks lightly. Feanor's eyes lit up with excitement, nodding enthusiastically as if she understood perfectly.

"Ah, like paint for the face!" Feanor exclaimed. "How fascinating!"

Gildor chuckled, his curiosity mixed with amusement. "A touch of color to brighten the day, it seems."

Glorfindel watched her with a soft, smitten expression. "It enhances her beauty," he murmured, almost to himself. Círdan stroked his beard thoughtfully, clearly intrigued. "A curious custom indeed."

Lumion crossed his arms, his curiosity begrudging but present. "Seems unnecessary," he muttered, though his eyes stayed fixed on the demonstration. Gildor chuckled, his curiosity mixed with amusement, while Glorfindel watched her with a soft, smitten expression.  Next, she picked up a book. She opened it, miming reading and flipping through the pages. She pointed to the words and pretended to be engrossed in the text. Gildor leaned forward, genuinely interested, while Círdan nodded approvingly. Glorfindel seemed more focused on her expressions than the book itself, his gaze never leaving her face. Lumion's suspicion seemed to wane slightly as he watched her mime the familiar act of reading. "We know what books are?" Lumion said dryly. The tone of his voice made her stop.

She moved to next item. Her clothes were next. She picked up a short and long tunics of vibrant colors and patterns and mimed putting it on, then did the same with a pair of breeches with unique fastings. She showed how they fit by patting her body and pointing to the clothing. Feanor clapped her hands, excited by the demonstration, while Gildor smiled broadly. Glorfindel's eyes twinkled with admiration as he watched her every move. Círdan continued to nod thoughtfully, his curiosity unwavering. Lumion still seemed a bit suspicious, but his curiosity was undeniable.

"Such interesting garments!" Feanor exclaimed. Círdan continued to nod thoughtfully. "Her world must be very different from ours."

Lumion still seemed a bit suspicious, but his curiosity was undeniable. "They seem functional," he admitted grudgingly.

The next item was a challenge. It was same rectangular object tbat seemed to be made of glass and metal with rubber covering. She held it up. She touched it . Like before it lit up but this time the picture changed. Everytime she touched it, the portarits inside the glowing box changed. She picked it up and mimed swiping, tapping, and making a call, holding it to her ear and pretending to speak. As Mîr attempted to mime the concept of a cell phone to the elves, their confusion only deepened. Glorfindel, ever patient, watched her gestures carefully, trying to decipher their meaning. He tilted his head, furrowing his brow in concentration.

"Do you mean a communication device?" he ventured tentatively, gesturing with his hands in an attempt to mimic her actions.

Mîr nodded eagerly, relieved that he seemed to grasp the idea. She continued miming, showing how one holds a phone to the ear, taps on a screen, and even takes pictures. Gildor, who had been watching with interest, chuckled softly. "Ah, I see! You're trying to tell us about a talking device, perhaps one that shows pictures?"

Mîr nodded again, smiling gratefully at Gildor's understanding. Círdan, who had been observing quietly, spoke up with a thoughtful expression. "It sounds like a wondrous device indeed, but such things do not exist in Middle-earth."

Feanor, always curious about new knowledge, leaned forward. "Could it be a tool from her homeland? Something we have not encountered before?"

Lumion, ever cautious, raised an eyebrow. "Regardless of its nature, we must proceed carefully. We know little of her origins or the capabilities of these devices."

Glorfindel, having pondered Mîr's gestures, spoke gently to her, "Thank you for trying to show us. Perhaps in time, we will understand more."

Mîr nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and hope. Despite their confusion, she appreciated their efforts to comprehend her world and not throwing her in dungeon while  accsuing her of witchcraft. She thought it better to honest with them and show them the rather than hiding it. If they found it later, it could cause mistrust or even chaos.he mystery of the cell phone remained unresolved.

She then picked up her bag, showing them how she wore it over her shoulder and mimed putting things inside. She demonstrated taking items out, as if she were packing for a journey. Gildor laughed heartily, clearly entertained, while Feanor's eyes sparkled with understanding. Glorfindel watched her with a soft smile, clearly smitten by her efforts. Círdan's wise gaze remained fixed on her, analyzing every detail. Lumion's suspicion seemed to ease further as he saw the practicality of the bag. "At least she's organized," he said with a nod.

Finally, she picked up her glasses. She put them on and pretended to squint, then took them off and mimed having difficulty seeing. She put them back on and smiled, showing how they helped her vision. Feanor nodded vigorously, her excitement almost tangible.

"Ah, to aid her sight!" Feanor exclaimed. "Ingenious!"

Gildor chuckled, clearly amused by the simple yet effective demonstration. "A clever invention indeed."

Glorfindel's smile widened, his admiration for her growing. Círdan's curiosity seemed satisfied as he nodded approvingly. Lumion's suspicion finally gave way to understanding as he realized the practical use of the glasses. Instead of any snide comments he decided to be silent.

Mîr sighed in relief, hoping she had conveyed enough for them to understand. The elves exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to deep curiosity. She could see that each of them had their own thoughts and questions, but for now, she had done her best. She looked at them expectantly, waiting for their response.

"Thank you, Mîr," Círdan said, his voice warm and kind. "You have given us much to ponder."

Gildor nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed! Your world seems full of wonders."

Mîr couldn't understand a word but she felt a sense of accomplishment and hope. Despite the language barrier, she had made progress in communicating with the elves. She smiled at them, feeling a bit more at ease in their presence.

They escorted her out. Lord Círdan had mime the motion of reading and then pranced around. Glorfindel, ever the chivalrous elf, escorted Mîr to his horse, a majestic and imposing creature. As they approached, Mîr's eyes widened with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Glorfindel, noticing her reaction, smiled gently.

"My lady, have you seen such a grand steed before?" he asked, his voice soft.

Mîr shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the horse, which neighed and stamped its hoof. She took a step back, clearly intimidated. Glorfindel's brow furrowed in concern. "Perhaps in the lands you come from, horses are not so common?"

Before Mîr could respond, Gildor approached, laughing heartily at the situation. "Oh, come now, Glorfindel! I'm sure they have horses where she comes from. Maybe she has just never ridden one."

Gildor's amusement quickly turned into action as he lifted Mîr and placed her onto the horse. Mîr's glare at Gildor was so fierce that it made both elves shiver slightly.

"Looks like she's a fiery one," Gildor huffed, still smiling. "Take her to the library while Lumion arranges a study for her."

As the horse began to ride, Mîr clung to Glorfindel for dear life, her grip so tight that he could feel the pressure against his waist. He blushed, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the discomfort.

"You are holding on quite firmly, my lady," he remarked, trying to sound light-hearted despite the slight wince in his voice. "I assure you, you are safe with me."

When they finally arrived at the grand library, Mîr's fear was replaced by sheer excitement. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the sight of the vast collection of books. She almost squealed with delight, her earlier discomfort forgotten. Glorfindel dismounted and helped Mîr down. "Welcome to our central library," he said warmly. "I hope you find it to your liking."

Mîr could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She looked around, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is amazing," she breathed, though Glorfindel did not understand her words, he understood her tone and the expression of pure joy on her face. He smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction in seeing her so happy. "Please, feel free to explore. I will be here if you need anything."

As Mîr wandered off into the aisles of books, Glorfindel watched her with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Despite the challenges they faced in understanding each other, he felt a growing respect for this strange and fascinating woman. Glorfindel couldn't help but admire Mîr as she roamed the library. She seemed so fascinated by the structure and designs of the building, moving from shelf to shelf, examining each one. She pulled out many books, but none of the scripts were familiar to her.  She tried her best to communicate with Glorfindel, and he, in turn, tried his best to translate whichever books she held out. Despite the language barrier, they both put in effort to help each other. They exchanged a few words, and to Glorfindel, her language, while less melodic, was pleasant to hear. As they worked together, Glorfindel arranged the books they had pulled out, while Mîr decided to explore another corner, eventually heading to the balcony. He smiled and continued his work, but after a while, he went to check on her, only to be greeted by a rueful sight.

Mîr was crying, seemingly in a trance. Alarmed, Glorfindel jolted her awake, but she didn't respond. Instead, she melted into his grip, unresponsive to any communication. He glanced out at the view from the balcony, wondering what had caused her distress. Gently, he held her against his chest and rode back to the manor as slowly as possible, not wanting to startle her further. By the time they arrived, she had fallen asleep. Glorfindel looked at her peaceful face, then gently carried her back to her room. He instructed a servant to call for Feanor and sat there, looking at her sad expression, pondering what about the view of the sea had affected her so deeply.

Feanor arrived shortly after, concern etched on her face. "What happened?" she asked softly, glancing between Glorfindel and the sleeping Mîr.

"I found her crying on the balcony, looking at the sea" Glorfindel replied, his voice tinged with worry. "She seemed to be in a trance, unresponsive to anything I said or did. I brought her back here, but I have no idea what could have caused it."

Feanor looked at Mîr with a sympathetic expression. "Perhaps the sea reminded her of something painful from her past," she suggested gently. "We must be patient and understanding. She is far from her home and everything familiar."

Glorfindel nodded, still watching Mîr. "I just wish I could understand her better, to help her more." Feanor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "In time, we will. For now, let her rest. We'll be here for her when she wakes."

Glorfindel sighed, but nodded in agreement. As he left the room, he couldn't shake the image of Mîr's tears and the mystery of what had caused them.

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Constructive criticism is highly appreciated

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Mîr Vin Universe Origin Ch 3

A/n - Sorry for the delay. I just delved to deep into what will Elves think of the technology and items unfamiliar to them. I made way to much dialogues for it and the chapter became too long. So, I removed it all together. If you want to read it I'll but it in a bonus chapter.

Any back to the story

As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions. The food items, unlike anything seen in Elven or Middle-earth cultures, sparked curiosity. Exotic aromas wafted from packages that bore no resemblance to the lembas or other fare known to the elves. Moreover, the elves encountered objects previously unseen in Middle-earth. Mysterious in both form and material, these items were beyond their realm of knowledge. They exchanged glances, realizing that the answers to the woman’s origins might be hidden within these enigmatic possessions.

 The mystery deepened, drawing them further into the enigma that had unexpectedly arrived at their haven but their curiosity was put in hold because of the maid servant announced that the creature woke up, behaved Frantically and fell into fitifull sleep again. They all exited to see the creature

As the woman stirred, her eyes gradually opening to the unfamiliar surroundings, the elves observed her with a sense of reverence. The air was charged with anticipation, for in her waking moments lay the promise of unlocking the enigma that had woven itself into the fabric of their haven.

Glorfindel looked at the creature, she looked restless right now. Her pretty features were marked with distress. The woman began to stir again. Glorfindel could feel Gildor’s posture suddenly going rigid. The woman woke up again, looked at them with a bewildered face and blurted out something in foreign tongue which Glorfindel could only make out as

“What the Fuck”

 

 In the hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness, she felt the disorienting shift from the rhythmic motion of the train to an unfamiliar stillness. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for the familiar contours of her train compartment, but instead, she found herself in a spacious room filled with vibrant colors. A jolt of panic surged through her as she realized she wasn’t alone. The bed beneath her was soft, unlike the cold, impersonal surfaces she associated with kidnapper scenarios in movies. The room exuded warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of fear that gripped her. With trembling hands, she reached for the glasses she habitually kept within arm’s reach. The world around her remained a blur, causing her heart to pound against her chest. The absence of visual clarity heightened her sense of vulnerability. Where was she? How did she end up in this unfamiliar place?

As she fumbled for her glasses, her fingertips grazed a loose tunic of soft cotton that draped over her. It wasn’t the attire she remembered wearing when she fell asleep on the train. Her hair, usually secured in a bun, cascaded freely down her shoulders. She could make out were she was but everything felt like blurry shaking mess. The spaciousness of the room and the absence of ominous shadows began to alleviate the intensity of her disorientation. She fell down on the bed again.

The next time, she was awake of her surrounding. She dared not open her eyes fearing that realistic nightmare was a reality. She started to feel her surroundings, the warm blanket embracing her form, the gentle lighting that bathed the room, and the absence of any immediate threat. So, she was still here. It was not a dream. Her heart pounded in her chest. Everything felt too much. She couldfeel her body trembling. The question lingered—how had she transitioned from a moving train to this mysterious haven?

She refused to open her eyes till her heartbeat began to slow down. As her racing heart began to steady, she pondered the possibilities. Was it a dream? A delusion? Or had she truly been transported to a place beyond her understanding? The answers lay shrouded in the enigma of the unfamiliar room, waiting to be unveiled as she navigated this unexpected journey. She finally found courage to open her eyes. In the disorienting blur without her glasses, she found herself surrounded by figures draped in unfamiliar attire. Their voices melded into a symphony of incomprehensible sounds, leaving her bewildered and struggling to make sense of the situation. She saw tall figures standing near her bed. She screamed "What the fuck!".

She looked frantically to see clearing, her hands flying around her to find her glasses but everything seemed different. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes again. No, this is not real, she thought to herself, just take a deep breath, even if its real, its better to face reality with less adrenaline rush. She heard an unknown voice speaking in an unfamiliar language.

"Please let me focus", She muttered but incomprehensible chatter continued. The voices seemed to get closer to her. She decided to face them. She opened her eyes again. The figures were closer. The were....men dressed in.....robes?They were speaking something but she couldn't understand a word. She attempted to respond, her words stumbling in an attempt to bridge the linguistic gap.

Wait, where am I? Can anyone understand me?”

 The room echoed with a language she couldn’t grasp, and the figures, seeming more like shadows in her blurred vision, continued their conversation in more unintelligible speech. As the frustration of being unable to communicate mounted, her panic intensified. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision even further. The alien surroundings, the strange language, and the inability to make herself understood became overwhelming.

“Please, someone, help me understand. Where am I?

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions indecipherable. One of them, seemingly perceiving her distress, gestured for her to follow. With a mixture of fear and desperation, she stumbled after the shadowy figure, her cries echoing in the unfamiliar room.

 “Why can’t you understand me? Where am I going?”, she muttered to herself while walking.

The figures continued conversing amongst themselves, the strange language closing a linguistic barrier that seemed insurmountable. The room’s colors blurred into a mosaic of confusion as she clung to the hope of finding answers. As they led her through the mysterious realm, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a lost wanderer in a place that defied explanation yet seemed to her very familiar, her cries of confusion echoing through the walls of palace.

 Lord Círdan, Glorfindel, Gildor, Lumion, and Fearon came in the room where their mysterious guest was staying. When they saw her walking up and saying something in a melodious voice. They began to talk. Lord Círdan was first to speak, “Greetings, traveler from beyond. Can you understand our words?”

The creature responded with a stream of sounds that were foreign to the elven ears, leaving the wise beings perplexed. Glorfindel ears perked up, he said to Lord Círdan, “Her language eludes us. We must find a way to bridge this gap and understand her plight.”

Lumion, quiped in, “I’ve never encountered such linguistic diversity. Our words seem to dance away from her understanding.”

 As the creature grew more distressed, her attempts at communication turned into heart-wrenching cries. The elves, moved by compassion, sought a way to ease her turmoil.

Fearon, seeing her pretty face distressed was unable to contain her worry. She sople softly, “We cannot let her suffer in confusion. There must be a way to connect with her. If we cant understand her, we can at least soothe her. There's nothing more soothing that nature. Lets take her to the gardens.”Gildor mused, “Look at the patterns on her belongings. They speak of gardens and life. Indeed, let us bring her to the haven’s garden.”

Lord Círdan looked at her shaking form and sighed. He did not expected such fearful reaction from this little creature. He gently guided her to the garden. She followed him,her eyes downcast and form shivering. He wanted to hold her and tell her she was safe but he was fearing that might trigger intense reaction in her. Guiding the creature gently, he led her to the serene sanctuary of the garden, where a tapestry of flowers and foliage unfolded. He saw her looking at the flowers. He gentky smiled, “In the language of leaves and blossoms, find comfort. Let the garden’s beauty speak when words fail.”

As they walked amidst the vibrant flora, the creature’s tears began to subside. The intricate patterns on her belongings seemed to resonate with the natural tapestry surrounding them. The creature, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the fragrance of blossoms, started to calm. The elves, though unable to decipher her words, shared a moment of understanding through the silent language of the garden—a universal solace that transcended the boundaries of spoken communication.

 Her mind began to clear from the fog of confusion. Determined to understand her predicament, she made a gesture, a silent plea, for her glasses. She looked at the creatures that surrounded her. She looked at the bearded old man. As they had eye contact, the man seemed to freeze. It seemed like her was lost. What happened to them? she thought to herself, What the fuck is going on here!?

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Glorfindel : Why do you have so many hairbows!?

Mîr : Why do you have bows?

Glorfindel : To kill my enemies . What's the corelation ?

Mîr : Fool! You use your bows to kill the enemies. I use my bows to get dressed to depress, burn them in their own jealously and when needed i can unfurl the bow and use it to strangle anybody.

Glorfindel :

Glorfindel : wow

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr, Glorfindel and Lindir sleeping

How the twins and Arwen sees them

How Erestor sees them

How Elrond and Celebrian sees them

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe : Origins

Ch 2.5 : Mysterious Artifacts

A/N : All those who'll guess the correct objects will be send a warm bowl of soup*telepathically*

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As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions. The food items, unlike anything seen in Elven or Middle-earth cultures, sparked curiosity. Exotic aromas wafted from packages that bore no resemblance to the lembas or other fare known to the elves. Moreover, the elves encountered objects previously unseen in Middle-earth. Mysterious in both form and material, these items were beyond their realm of knowledge. They exchanged glances, realizing that the answers to the woman’s origins might be hidden within these enigmatic possessions.

While the mysterious creature laid in a guest chamber, the elves observed her belongings. Her opulent garments and jewelry displayed on a nearby table. Círdan, with his ancient wisdom, led the discussion, stroking his beard, saiid, “This woman is unlike any we’ve encountered, her garments and adornments speak of a culture beyond our knowledge. Let us unravel the mysteries they hold.”

Glorfindel agreed, “Indeed. These garments, painted with expensive dyes, are a marvel. And the elasticity in the waistband, unheard of in our craftsmanship.”

Gildor picked up a small piece of clothing and examined it, “Look at these garments, the cups and elastic strings.”

Fearon quiped in quickly, “These were the last pieces of clothings she was wearing so, perhaps it’s her...undergarments.”

A blush crept up Gildor’s face, but he continued, “ Well, now that’s what you call a small clothes. They seem designed not just for practicality but for enhancement. Quite intricate.”

Círdan snorted at Gildor while Glorfindel just raised his eyebrows as Gildor quietly put the undergarment down.

Fearon was examining the metallic strips from her hair, she was intrigued by the metal and their odd shape . She said, “These thin metallic strips, I’ve never seen the like. They match those on her undergarments and pants. What purpose could they serve?”

Nestor, ignoring Fearon’s question spoke, “The rings on her ears, made of metals unfamiliar to us. And this round gold object on her nose, a curious ornament indeed.”

Círdan agreed with both of them, “The richness of her accessories extends to her fingers and ankles. Rings of gold and unknown metals, a silver band with small gems. It’s as if she carries a piece of a distant realm with her. Her clothings are very unfamiliar to me. Maybe she has come from a distance land.”

Glorfindel said quitely, “Her nail painting caught my attention. At first, I thought them naturally dark, but Fearon told me that they were meticulously painted. A cultural practice, perhaps?”

He paused and spoke again, “And the makeup on her face, a touch of artistry. She clearly belongs to a class of sophistication and royalty we’ve not encountered.”

Círdan announced, “We must look at her belongings in the mysterious bag, but we must approach this with caution. These artifacts may hold clues about her origin, and understanding them could shed light on why she’s here.”

The elves exchanged thoughtful glances as Fearon opened the teeth-like closure. As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions.

Gildor picked up clothes that had different color and designs, but structurally, they were similar to the clothes their mysterious guest was wearing. He also noticed a strange but plesant scent coming from each of her clothings.“This clothing, similar to hers, suggests a consistency in her style. A cultural signature, perhaps? And her unworn clothes have been perfumed too. It all speaks richness to me, but then I wonder why she’s suddenly here without anyone.”

Fearon agreed to gildor, “Indeed My Lord, it’s intriguing and this fabric, intricately woven. Such craftsmanship of such small stiches takes a lot of time . Someone needs to be paid a lot for such fine stitching. She might have an extremely good tailor with her. But it can also be that her people are just good at it.”

They looked at the round object with leather straps around both sides.

Fearon exicted, explained “She was wearing it on her wrist. It’s straps served the purpose of holding the metal and glass cylinder on her wirsts. Look at the cylinder. It has three needles inside. One is circling the cylinder with its one end on the centre axis. The other one is doing it too, but it seems that it is much slower than the longest one, and the smallest one doesn’t seem too much. It’s so interesting. Why would someone put a cylinder with moving needles on their wrists? I don’t think it’s a jewel.”

Lumion spoke quickly, “Perhaps it’s a witchcraft. Her bag too seems like a sentinel being with teeth. Maybe she’s-“

Gildor quickly cut him, “Maybe she’s a rich person with artefacts unknown to us. We can only speculate, but unless she answers us, we’ll never know the truth.”

Gildor could see Lumion face turn sour, but he too interested in this mysterious woman belongings to actually acknowledge his sour face.

Círdan, mused , “These objects, though unfamiliar, may hold the key to understanding her purpose here. We must tread carefully in our examination.”

Glorfindel opened a leather pouch with the same teeth-like closure. He picked up small container and brushes from it. He said, “What are these small pots? They seem to contain substances but mostly red, browns and pinks. There is a small container that has a paste similar to her skin colour.I have never seen such pastes and powders . ”

Gildor added on, “And look at these strange tools. A brush? For what purpose? This small wand, it resembles paintbrushes.”

Fearon said quitely,“Perhaps it’s some form of artistry, but don’t you think it’s very similar makeup tints. Yet there are so many . Many whose purpose i don't understand... what are their uses?”

Nestor was more intrigued by the pots. He excitely said, “And these containers, they’re not metal. Some peculiar substance, almost like a hardened liquid. Unseen craftsmanship! Imagine storing herbs in these. It will be so easy to carry and store.”

Círdan looked at tbe pots and said with a perplexed tone, “Curious. And what is written on these small pots? I cannot decipher this language; it’s unlike any we’ve encountered in Middle-earth.”

Lumion who had been silent for a while quiped in to look at it. He looked at the pots, examining the language, shook his head, and said ,” I couldn’t understand these words. They are very similar to Quenya, straight symmetrical letters. They are not rubbish. They have a set pattern like proper language. Could these be symbols of power or some form of enchantment? They wield a certain allure, though.”

Círdan shaked his head. He agreed with Lumion, but his fascination of everything being an enchantment was a little annoying. Gildor knew Lumion’s suspicious nature. He ignored him and continued to examine the pots . He was like Nestor, more interested in the structure of the pot. He said calmly, “The substance feels unlike anything natural.It’s as if it traps the colours within. Maybe it's a kind of metal found where she lives. ”

Glorfindel fished out an otherworldly artifact—a device of glass and metal, its surface adorned with a peculiar rubbery material. This strange object bore no resemblance to the elegant craftsmanship of Elven artifacts. Its surface, cool to the touch, emitted an ethereal glow when caressed. Gazing upon it, the Elves, beings attuned to the natural world, found themselves in awe of the mysterious luminescence. The glass and metal combination, so unlike the materials of Middle-earth, hinted at craftsmanship from a distant and unfamiliar realm. They all were awestruck. It shines so beautifully and when it glowed the glass side showed a portrait of a flower that seemed to be trapped within it. The rubbery substance, with its unique texture, served as a covering for the device. He room was silent as the soft glow illuminated the Elves’ faces with a sense of wonder, akin to witnessing a starlight phenomenon in the deep of night.

It was Círdan who broke the silence, “What enchantment is this? A glass and metal creation, covered in a rubbery substance that lights up upon touch. I have not seen its like in all my years.”

Glorfindel quickly responded “It’s beyond our comprehension. What could this artifact be? A source of light or a tool of some sort? The rubbery covering adds to the mystery.”

Gildor, equally curious, said, “Perhaps it’s a token of power or an ancient artefact from a distant land. The glow suggests magic, but it’s a magic unfamiliar to us. I’ve never encountered such craftsmanship. The glass and metal seem alien, and this rubbery material... Could it be a ward against some unseen force?”

Círdan knew he couldn’t let them delve in such thought or else they’ll grow suspicious. He wanted to know more about this mysterious creature who suddenly appeared into his land and not just threw her into prison because the others took her as a threat. He spoke with an authoritative voice, “We are left to speculate. A device from a realm we can not fathom. Its purpose eludes us, and the symbols etched upon it are a language unknown. Let us handle it with care. Its glow is enchanting, but we must remain vigilant. This object, whatever it may be, is not of Middle-earth.”

Gildor who was still caressing the glass side of the object and looking at the flower portrait that appeared said without looking away, “Should we attempt to unlock its secrets, or would meddling with it bring forth consequences beyond our understanding?”

Fearon said, “We are in uncharted territory. This device challenges our perception of the world. What powers lie within it, we cannot discern. Prehaps we should leave it our little guest.”

Círdan smiled at “our little guest” . He thought to himself at least someone too is interested in this mysterious being. They were about to search for more things, but the maid servant came back to announce that his little guest had woken up and is in distress.

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Constructive criticism is a must or my goldfish brain 🧠 will perish.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr, holding a crooked pottery : Calm down Lord Erestor, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Lindir : I agree with her, My lord because *holds Mîr's chin and looks directly at her face* what I see right now is the most beautiful thing in Ea.

Glorfindel and Erestor : Smooth........

Mîr :

[justpostsyeet]

Random elf : What is on your neck Lindir?

Lindir*adjusting is collar* : Nothing!

Random elf : Got frisky last night, didn't you?

Lindir*blushing* : yes

Also Lindir remembering how he challenged Mîr that she couldn't hurt him and she fucking bite his neck.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr : When is your birthday?

Glorfindel and Lindir : What's a birthday?

Mîr explains concept of birthday, Glorfindel : So,its like begetting day

Mîr: what's a begetting day

Glorfindel and Lindir explains begetting day

Mír : So, instead of celebrating your day of birth you celebrate the day your parents fucked. And here I thought Elves where good old Christians.

[justpostsyeet]

Glorfindel, Lindir and Mîr playing twister

Erestor *walks in* : Nope, not even gonna ask any questions you perverts.

Mîr: But you should 🤭

Erestor : What ?

💫Later💫

Celebrian *Enters* : Wtf

LINDIR : Join us my lady , you'll love it.

💫Much later💫

Elrond *enters* *faints*

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe: Origins

Ch 2 : Bag, the living guardian

Círdan, with ancient wisdom etched in his gaze, observed the woman Glorfindel had brought back. Although physically unharmed, her presence emitted an aura of profound strength that caught the perceptive eyes of the Elven lord. Gazing upon her, Círdan felt as though he couldn't see through her being as if she was not an edain but something more powerful. Her aura, however, held a uniqueness that defied easy classification. It lacked the overpowering resonance of the Valar or the majestic presence of the Maiar. Instead, it exuded an enigmatic and tranquil quality. Like peering into a dark abyss that bore no hint of fear, her aura seemed to carry an aura of serenity, wrapping her in an intriguing veil of mystery. Círdan, attuned to the subtle energies of Middle-earth, found himself captivated by this unexpected visitor and the enigma she brought to the tranquil haven of the Grey Havens. Their visitor seemed to be in a deep slumber. He asked his servants to undressed her and clean her. Then bring all of her belonging to the court hall so, he could observe the threat.

He knew that she couldn't be a threat something in his heart told too but he knew heart couldn't be trusted. Celebrimbor has told him that his heart tells him to trust Annatar and Círdan knows the result all too well to let himself get caught in it. He went to court hall were he had called few of his closest so nobody gets to alarmed and take rash decision. They were all waiting for them and when he told them his thoughts they seemed to agree with him. The woman seem nonthreating but that doesn't mean she can be trusted. Many of them doesn't seem to agree with the peaceful aura that Círdan felt while trying to look through her. All of them, even Glorfindel and Nestor seemed to agree that all they felt was a void when they tried looking into her but Círdan felt this pull like this was some peace that he had felt before. As time stood still,they all patiently waited was the arrival of the servants .

In the private chamber were the stranger visitor rested, Head Servants Neion and Fearon was given the task of undressing and dressing the mysterious woman. Neion and Fearon meticulously carried out the task unfolding the layers of her intriguing attire. As they peeled away the cotton tunic and broad pants, the richness of the fabric and the exquisite patterns, not woven but painted with expensive dyes, hinted at a wealth unfamiliar to the elves.

The waistband, lacking a drawstring, revealed a remarkable elasticity that gently cinched at her waist without discomfort. Even her undergarments, dyed with opulent hues, displayed a level of affluence that went beyond mere pretense. The small undergarments, with cups and elastic strings, suggested a design meant to enhance rather than compromise her features, and the intricate hook at the back hinted at the need for assistance in donning such garments. From head to toe, every detail spoke of opulence. Metallic strips and elastic bands adorned her hair, matching those found on her undergarments and pants. Rings adorned her ears, made of both gold and other metals unfamiliar to the elves. A round gold object adorned her nose, and various finger rings, some gold, some not, adorned her hands. Unseen by elves before, she wore a band-like silver accessory on her ankles, embellished with small unknown gems. One if her wrist bore a strange object, round metallic box that was covered by glass to display what's inside it. The insides seemed to move in a rhythmical circle . The whole contraption was tied around her wrist with a small leather belt.

Her nails, initially mistaken for being naturally dark, revealed themselves to be meticulously painted in a deep color. Her face displayed remnants of makeup, and her lush, well-cared-for hair cascaded down, framing a countenance that exuded both health and refinement. In this careful inspection, the elves found themselves face to face with a being whose appearance bespoke not just elegance but a powerful status. As they cleaned her delicate skin they noticed that her strength was that of a delicate princess. They couldn't fathom why this woman was suddenly found in the forest.

They bought her clothes and other belongings the court hall. As the elves delved into the mysterious woman's belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Her pouch were extremely sturdy and was hard to open. Fearon politely told the reason for her failure to open the bag,"Her bags are unlike any we've encountered. No strings, no hooks. Instead, a magical closure with tiny teeth-like objects covering the edge."

Glorfindel, the ever curious one started pulling the things till he found a way to open bag. After a few moments, he happily declared "Look at this small contraption. When moved forward, it closes the teeth and binds them together. Move it backward, and the teeth open, revealing the container inside." Gildor exclaimed."Ingenious! A method of securing belongings with a mere motion. The craftsmanship is exceptional. Lore master Lumion, have you seen such enchantments before?"

Lumion was equally intrigued by the contraption. He himself opened and closed the bag several time before he said, "This is a fascinating mechanism. No strings, no clasps. It appears to be a combination of magic and intricate design. A security unlike our conventional methods." Círdan quipped, "The simplicity and effectiveness of this closure speak volumes. She has mastered the art of containment in ways we never imagined."

Fearon unable to contain her excitement said, "Shall we attempt to open it, Lord Círdan? To understand the mechanism better and see what other wonders her bags might hold?"

Círdan, equally intrigued and excited managedto sound regal lord like "Proceed, Fearon. Uncover the secrets of this magical closure. It is yet another testament to the ingenuity of the woman from beyond our shores."

The woman's artifacts, with their enchanting designs, continued to unfold a narrative of a realm filled with magic and creativity, leaving the elves eager to discover more.The elves gathered around the woman's unusual bag, eyeing the magical closure with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. They exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of how to manipulate the enigmatic mechanism. Fearon, with a keen eye for mechanisms, took the lead in attempting to unlock the secrets held within.

Fearon cautiously moved the small contraption forward, causing the tiny teeth to close tightly, sealing the bag. After a moment of careful consideration, she skillfully slid it backward, and to the elves' amazement, the teeth opened, revealing the contents within. A roar erupted

"Incredible! A simple sliding motion, and it opens like a flower blooming. The craftsmanship is extraordinary."

"Such a mechanism! It's as if the bag is alive, responding to our touch. Perhaps it's enchanted with a form of sentience."

"A living bag, you say? An interesting notion, Glorfindel. Lumion, what are your thoughts on this enchanting closure?"

Lumion cleared his throat signalling other to calm down."While the idea of a living bag is poetic, it is more likely a product of advanced craftsmanship and magic. A melding of art and functionality."

As they explored the contents within, the elves began to form various theories about the nature of the bag.

Gildor mused for a while and said."It could be a guardian, protecting the belongings within. Responding only to the touch of its rightful owner. What if it attacks if we touch the belongings inside the bag?"

Glorfindel was now equally concerned about the sudden attack from an unknown creature but he tried to be brave and wise. "A living bag, a guardian, or an extension of its owner—each theory holds a certain charm. Regardless, it is a testament to our own abilities and if this guardian knows that in our heart we don't posses to harm the belonging but merely look at it then it shall not harm us." As the elves contemplated the bag's mysteries, the enchanting closure continued to captivate their imagination, leaving them to ponder the depths of the magic woven into even the simplest aspects of the woman's belongings.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe : Origin Story

Ch 4 : Of names and maps

The creature looked at a bearded man . Bearded man was looking into her eyes, absolutely still, as if his only goal in life was to gaze into her eyes. She turned her gaze away, causing Círdan to return to his normal self. She dared not look at anyone else but still asked for glasses. The old man looked at her briefly and said something in his sing-song language. She didn't know what was happening. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. Everything felt too much. So she decided to just look around. While she stared at plants, she realized she knew them but also didn't know them. They're plants she had studied about, but there's something off about them, as if the color and the size were different. There were many flowers she had seen before, but she couldn't recognize. She wandered around, avoiding eye contact. The old man's reaction had scared her. She wandered around as it was helping her calm down. She spotted them, white as she had always known them - lilies. She smiled and went to them. She had never inspected a lily so closely. She sat there, studying every curve of the petals that adorned the flower.

She was calm enough now. But now what next? What are these strange beings trying to do, she thought to herself. She had no idea how she's here. Is this all a dream, or has she been transported somewhere? But where is this somewhere? Calm down, she said to herself. Calm down... wait, what is she called? She tried to recall it but remembered nothing. No, she's called something. She remembers it. She has a name. How could she remember she was in a train, what she does for a living, but not her name? What sort of memory loss is she facing?

She was distracted from her thoughts when she felt someone coming close to her. She dared to look up to see a lady holding out her glasses. She snatched it off her hand, wiped it, and put it on her nose. Her vision cleared. She was about to look at those creatures, then she stopped. What if they freeze like the old man? But she can't know where she is until she tries to strike a conversation, and conversation without looking at someone is hard. She dared to look up again. This time she could see their faces, and she felt goosebumps. They were not humans, she knew it. There was something off about them. They had a leaner bone structure, and their skin was a little translucent. Not enough to make them an entirely different creature but something that resembled humans. She dared to observe more and noticed their pointed ears. Not enough to be different but just enough not to be called human ears. She felt her heart beat pick up pace again. She looked at them longer, and her heart stopped pounding. She didn't know how long it had been, but it felt that staring at them made her eyes focus more on their human features than their non-human features and trick her brain into thinking that they were not an immediate threat.

She was surprised that none of them spoke. She thought, are they frozen again, or do they just not speak to strangers? Let me be the first one to speak, she thought to herself. Only let's do English; it's a universal language, right? They look like what is it called? Elves! Pointy-eared beings. She knows about them, and somehow she's sure that they're elves. Her brain just knows. Ah yes. Aren't elves English creatures? Well, I have heard all their stories in English too, let's try.

"Hello!"

They moved. So not weeping angels. Good. Okay, one more try. "Hello." They began talking to each other. The golden-haired one came in front. She remembered him. She had seen him somewhere. She understands. Everything feels like it's somewhere between her knowing everything and her knowing nothing. She was drowning in her thoughts again. She decided not to muse much but to focus on the present. She could only know what's happening when she focuses on what's happening in front of her eyes.

She realized she had been staring at him, and he was staring at her. Just don't freeze like the old man, please? She thought. The golden-haired man? Elf? Whatever moved and began to undo the buttons of his robe. She stared at him with a puzzled look. He undid his upper robe and presented his robe to her. She looked at the arm that was holding the robe extended towards her. Is she supposed to take the robe? Is it a good gesture, or are they about to kill her for insulting their mother? She decided to just stare at the robe, expecting it to give the answer to her confusing situation. But the robe remained silent. She looked up when she felt that the golden-haired man spoke something. They had a brief eye contact. He just smiled and put back his robe. They started talking to themselves and her. She realized they were switching languages. She switched languages too, greeting them in every language she knew, hoping somehow they'll know what she's trying to say. Yet none of the languages was able to break the language barrier. She could feel disappointment and dread setting at the pit of her stomach. If she can't communicate, how will she know what's happening? She felt like crying again. No, she said out loud. No, I need to get hold of myself. I need to figure out what's happening. I can't just sit and keep crying. She looked around again, searching the faces of everyone present there in hopes of one of them somehow understanding her predicament.

The lady who had given her back her glasses came close to her and smiled. She said something, but once again, she didn't understand. She paused, then smiled again, "Mîr," she said, pointing at her, "Meldil Mîre" .Mîr, she said to herself. She thought, That's a good name for now. No, no, it's a good name until I know who they are. What if they can use my real name to control me like a puppet? Mîr, I'm Mîr from now on.

Mîr, she said again, smiling, then pointed at them. Then they all began to speak one by one: Círdan, Gildor, Glorfindel, Lumion, Feanor, Nestor. Mîr looked at them and tried her best to remember their names. Now that they have names, she needs them to know who she is. But she wondered who she is? How will she explain it to someone? It's not just a language barrier. It's just difficult to tell a human-like creature what a human is. Right now, she can't tell them who she is, but she can tell them how she came here. She can ask them what this place is.She looked around and saw a dried branch. She picked it up. She drew seven stick figures. She pointed at the six as the six elves that stood before her, and the seventh one was her. Then she proceeded to draw a cartoonist version of what happened just before she came to this strange place. She drew the train where she was sitting on a berth. She drew herself going to sleep on the cold hard berth and then drew her waking up here, on their bed. Then she used the stick to point out her surroundings and asked to make them say where? The elves looked around. She repeated her gesture. Another golden-haired one repeated what she did with a stick and said, "Grey Haven." She repeated it, thinking she doesn't know what place it is. Maybe it's just what this mansion is called Mîr thought. Maybe she knows this place, and it's just the difference in names due to language differences.

She looked around and pointed to the lily and said lily. She was immediately told the lily equivalent in their language. Mîr was immensely pleased by this, but she realized that she couldn't remember everything they'll say to her. She needs to write it down so she could learn it and have a conversation with them. Now she needs to let them know that she needs a pen and paper. She used the stick again to write Mîr in English. She pointed her stick to Mîr written on the garden floor and then pointed it at her, saying Mîr. Then she wrote the names she remembered and pointed at them, calling them their names after writing each of their names. The blond-haired one - Gildor came close to her and immediately began scribbling something next to where she had written Mîr. He drew a few artful lines and pointed his stick at her, saying Mîr. Then he proceeded to write next to the names she had written. He wrote each word, then pointed at the person present there, calling their names. Good, Mîr thought, now they all are on the same plane of thinking process. But how to ask for the paper and pen.

She looked at Gildor hopefully. She made a writing motion with her hands. Gildor looked at her for a while. She did it again. Then he looked back to his companions. They talked amongst themselves. Mîr hoped that her gesture hadn't offended them. All the things seemed to be going smoothly so far. The last thing she wants is to be executed in a foreign land because she made a motion that was equivalent to "fuck you" to the people who have saved her.

The bearded one, Círdan, gestured her to follow him and took a few steps forward, looking back to see if she's following him or not. She smiled at him and followed. He nodded and smiled at her and took her back to the room she was in before. Lumion and Nestor exited from another door that was present in the room. Feanor gestured for her to sit on a sofa. She waited patiently, hoping for the best. Lumion and Nestor came back with scrolls. They unrolled one to reveal a map. Well, it was not a pen and paper as she expected, but it's still good. At least she can see where she is. To her disappointment, the map was not of the world where she lived. The map showed an entirely different world. Mîr could feel her mind numbing. She looked frantically to see any resemblance to the place she calls Earth. She looks up and sees Círdan's face. He looks equally confused, as if he expected her to know the lands mapped on this scroll. She looked back to make sure that her eyes are deceiving her and she indeed is not looking at the world map. She looked up again and just shrugged, pushing herself against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Mîr really wanted to cry now. She had been holding her panic and tears for far too long. Within an hour, she had realized that she had been thrown into a different land that is located in distant lands she didn't have a single clue that it existed. She cannot speak the language of the beings that reside here. And most importantly, everything she knows had been taken away by these creatures. The elves, her brain feeds her. But are they elves? She mused. And even if they're elves, it doesn't assure her of her own safety. What if they torture her, starve her, or kill her in the most inhumane way possible? What is she going to do now?

She took a deep breath. She felt her eyes prickling. She took a deep breath and looked at the elves around her. She gave them a smile and looked at them hopefully. She made the writing motion again. This time she pointed at a word written on the map. She didn't even see where she was pointing, then made the writing motion again and looked at the elf named Glorfindel. He just stared at her like she had done some witchcraft in front of her. Mîr was immediately alert. She has done something as the room was filled with silence. She looked at their faces, but all of them looked at each other like they were expecting the other to say something. What have I done, Mîr thought. Please just make it easy for me. Which entity have I pissed off to get thrown into such a situation?

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Taglist - @bobitoo08 @asianbutnotjapanese

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe : Origins

Ch 1 : Unexpected guest

Glorfindel and Gildor stood at the docks of the great sea, the air tinged with the poignant essence of Elven farewells. Círdan, with his timeless wisdom, saw the departing elves off as they embarked on their journey. Glorfindel has came all the way from imladris to Grey havens make sure that the elves are departed for journey to Valinors. These elves served as marchwardens in the Great war of Second age. Now 300 years into The third age the peace finally seemed to come to them. Many were departing from middle earth to their home, Valinor. Glorfindel looked at them fondly, as much as he loved his birthland he somehow knew that his duties in middle earth has not been fulfilled yet no matter what others say.

Cirdan requested Gildor and Glorfindel to stay a moon cycle and train his soldier, the offer they accepted to train the young elves per as Gildor pointed out "how many times you get to break free from your boring mundane routine."

Glorfindel thought 5 days of backbreaking training was enough for starry eyed soldier to be wary of their great wander warrior Lord Gildor and The great Balrog slayer Lord Glorfindel but he was wrong. He underestimated the energy of youth and the sheer power of giddy starry eyed excitement. They did everything they were asked to do, like everything, he was pretty sure that if Gildor asked them to jump off the cliff, they would have asked which cliff is high enough to jump.

It was his turn to take them to the nearby forest to train them in forest ranger skills. The day was warm, the trees seemed joyful for some reason and the environment overall was peaceful. Yet, as they ventured forth, an unsettling feeling enveloped them. Intrigued, Glorfindel led a small group of soldiers into the nearby forest. Glorfindel's sharp gaze scrutinized the unexpected presence of the white wolves, their appearance raising myriad questions. These creatures, rarely straying from their mountainous abode, were notorious for their territorial nature, fiercely defending against any intruders, be it beast, man, dwarf, or elf. What perplexed Glorfindel even more was their distinct hunting style. Unlike regular wolf packs that tested prey endurance over long distances, the white wolves were ambush predators – larger, stronger, and displaying a remarkable intelligence that set them apart.

Their refusal to succumb to Morgoth's influence showcased not only their strength but their cunning adaptability. Now, in this unforeseen encounter, the white wolves exhibited behavior contrary to expectations. Communicating boldly, they seemed to surround and protect an injured, humanoid figure – seemingly human, yet bearing an otherworldly aura.

Glorfindel, ever vigilant, readied his bow and arrow, swiftly pursued the scene. The wolves began to drawing back as if returning to the mountains. When Glorfindel arrived to the scene wolves were in packs already treating towards the mountains, leaving a figure laying on forest floor. This was a feminine figure that he could tell, not injured too as she was not bleeding. Everything seemed to be out of danger. Yet, a new danger unfolded as one of Glorfindel's companions mistook the injured woman for an enemy, readying an arrow in her direction. The golden-haired ellon intervened, halting his companions and protecting the young lady from harm. Feredir, the medic of the group recognizing the situation, urged others to stand down, emphasizing the need to safeguard the young woman's well-being.

Glorfindel looked at the woman like creature strange grab. Glorfindel knew that this creature was not the second born,there was something particular about her but he couldnt quite put his fingers on it. He observed the peculiar attire of the young woman, her clothing markedly distinct from the familiar garb of Middle-earth. The loose tunic and broad pants, crafted from an expensive and finely dyed cotton, stood in stark contrast to the conventional attire of the elves. Her footwear, fashioned from a soft cotton material rather than the customary leather, featured an unusual hardness on the soles.

The enigma extended to her accessories – transparent lenses with metallic blue frames covered her eyes, concealing her gaze. Jewels adorned her person, hinting at a level of sophistication unfamiliar to Glorfindel. Her hair, tied in a bun and her nails seemed very dark in color unlike any mannish tribe he knows.

Curiosity piqued, Glorfindel carefully lifted the young woman, noting the presence of several strange-looking bags. With a sense of responsibility, he handed the bags to a fellow soldier, ensuring their safekeeping. Cradling the mysterious visitor, Glorfindel mounted his horse, signaling for the group to return to Grey Havens.

The journey back unfolded with the elven party, now carrying an unexpected guest, making their way through the wooded paths, the distant waves of the sea serving as a constant companion. As they approached the Grey Havens, the mystery of the young woman from beyond Middle-earth lingered, casting a shadow of intrigue over the elves.

[justpostsyeet]

Wip

Mîr hissed "so what!"

Lindir calmly said," They were just saying......"

Mîr cut him off quickly, "I know exactly what you were saying. Yes! I get tired using motar and pestle because I'm used to food processor. That was what I was brought up to and that doesn't make me bad or lazy cook. You can't cook like me anyway so, you don’t have any right to make fun of me. I'm trying. I'm trying to get used to all these. I'm really trying but it takes a lot of time. You make fun of me for everything I don't know and you knew since your birth. I'm not lazy, I was just brought up to luxuries that is taken for granted. I'm trying my best and if that's not enough for you and you don't have any good advice then just keep your backhand comments to yourself because I'll do and learn things at my own pace. And if that pace is troubling you then its your own problem not mine."

Lindir looked at her shaking form. He tried to hold her hand to calm her down but she shrugged his hand off as she struggled to breathe. He was a little stunned from her outburst . She had never been like that before. She had always been a mild and kind woman.

[justpostsyeet]

I'm on a chapter which is making me sad. So, I'm going to make it everyone's problem and share a sad edit I made for it.

Ps - it's my first time making an edit. Hope it's good