#kind as summer elrond *cries*

[thequeensjester]

Rings of Power ➤ Elrond

“Where there is love, it is never truly dark.”

credit: cap-that.com

[strange-relics]

When Elrond knelt next to his dying horse in the middle of battle with a look of such devastation in his eyes I nearly cried because the only thing that was going through my mind was:

“Strong as a warrior…and as kind as summer.”

[wordbunch]

The Hobbit re-read: favorites, thoughts and honorable mentions

thank u to my tumblr besties for encouraging me to rant abt this book for a little while, and brace yourselves for a LOOONG post; aka We're Going On An Adventure!

this quote abt Gandalf: "tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion" like. THIS exactly is Gandalf to me ✨✨✨

the whole good-morninged sequence (as if he was selling buttons at the door! can you imagine! By belladonna tooks SON of all people!!!) 😱

"a cake or 2 would do him good after this fright" me too bilbo

"he had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short" me too bilbo 🍰

Gandalf constantly selling Bilbo's skills to the company and just hyping him up and believing in him all the time!!!! most excellent and audacious hobbit!!! 😎

"this was thorin's style... if he had been allowed he would probably have gone like this until he was out of breath" aka he is Dramatic and Important

"bilbo was getting excited and interested again so that he forgot to keep his mouth shut" how many times will i write ME TOO BILBO in this post

"THE EXPLANATION DID NOT SEEM TO EXPLAIN" 💯💯💯

gandalf: i found him in the dungeons of the necromancer; thorin: girl what were YOU doing at the necromancer's??? 🧐🧐🧐 gandalf: finding things out as usual O M G like what else would he be doing there 😚

bilbo constantly wishing he was back home as soon as he left

"off bilbo had to go before he could explain that he could not hoot even once like any kind of owl" yall this book has so many funny moments but like in a very chill humor way

the fact that one of the TROLLS is called WILLIAM 😂😂😂

"i am a good cook myself, and cook better than i cook" okay bilbo rizz 😏🔥

"they had not at all enjoyed lying there listening to the trolls making plans for roasting them" you don't say. i love this deadpan humor SO MUCH jrrt snapped

that whole beautiful iconic description of kind as summer elrond

"their clothes were mended as well as their bruises, their tempers, and their hopes" WHEN will i go to rivendell 😩

"there is nothing like looking if you want to find something" thorin life coach realness 👏🏼👏🏼

thoring gesturing at a miserable desolate land: these tRuLy hOspiTabLe moUnTaiNs 😍

then gandalf lit up his wand. oF coUrSe it wAs gaNdaLf, but they were too busy to ask how he got there. 4ever mood

he thought of himself frying bacon and eggs in his own kitchen ME TOO BIL- 🍳

"Gollum brought up memories of ages and ages and ages before, when he lived with his grandmother in a hole by a bank by a river" this kind of made me cry. it brings unexpected humanity to such an appalling character; kinda makes you want bilbo to spare him eventually

and the fact itself that bilbo felt so bad for him he decided to just leave him be

"you would have laughed (from a safe distance)" LOVE how JRRT puts random little comments addressed to the reader

gandalf just being like ok i gotta go do other things now. good luck besties. ✌🏼😚

beorn: what are you, a traveling circus? and he is actually right 🤪

"you have got to look after all these dwarves for me, gandalf laughed" and i cried

bilbo being like hmm how will i get down from this tree (except by falling)

bilbo's song while killing gigantic spiders "not very good...but you must remember he had to make it up himself in a very awkward moment"

the dwarves starting to respect him and bowing down until they FALL OVER is such a comical image to me

the whole alluring magic of the elvish feast in the forest which disappears when they get closer!! a whole fairytale mr tolkien!!! 😍

thranduil is a greedy b <3 and especially VERY fond of wine 🍷🍷🍷

"i will lock you all in again and you can sit there comfortably and think of a better plan" bilbo badass mode and we love to see it 💋

tolkien being like WELL u can laugh but you wouldn't have done any better if u were him. real.

when they're in dale i love the numerous references to "songs and stories of old" and all of them basically being a living legend and turning their stay in dale into a public holiday and spectacle

thorin is cocky af

/freeze frame/ "you are familiar with thorin's style on important occasions so i will not give you any more of it" its ok jrrt, let him be a drama queen 👑

bilbo when he takes some gold from smaug being like "this will show them!!!1!1" 😠😠

sassy bilbo strikes again with "did you expect me to trot back with the whole hoard of thror on my back? if there's any grumbling to be done i think i might have a say" GO OFF KING 👏🏼

i just rly love him okay, he stole my heart in this book like a real legitimate professional burglar that he is

"i am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly" etc. basically this whole exchange btw bilbo and smaug is pure gold (pun not intended) 🤫

talking birds that eavesdrop. enough said.

the descriptions of the arkenstone which make you actually want to have it too. genius. there could be no two such gems, even in so marvellous a hoard, even in all the world." 💎💎💎

the harps (untouched by the dragon who had a small interest in music).. WHY is this so funny to me

bilbo putting on some elvish DRIP and being like ✨✨ i feel magnificent ✨✨ (but probably look dumb 😩)

"this is the great chamber of thror" ok thorin the tour guide king

BARD MY KING i love one (1) man 🎯

bilbo being absolutely against any wars or battles and just wanting to go home BUT also being a sneaky lil shit who takes the arkenstone to bard and thranduil BUT also still not wanting to leave his dwarf buddies

when he gives them the gem "not without a shudder, not without a glance of longing" AHHH i want it!

ambiguous gandalf returning. always love to see it

"if you don't like my burglar, please don't damage him" 🙄 ffs thorin chill

"you are not making a very splendid figure as king" yes gandalf call him out

defeat seems "very uncomfortable, not to say distressing" to bilbo. we love.

the fact that he was just knocked out cold during the battle so thur we know very little abt what really happened?? jrrt genius writing hack. might use this one 🤔

fili and kili deserved a better sendoff than just mentioning that they died. come on.

thorin's last words and reconciliation w bilbo... PLEASE I WILL CRY until i throw up. "it has been more than any baggins deserves." "no! there is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly west. some courage and some wisdom blended in measure. if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

i might still be crying

"tea is at 4 but any of you are welcome at any time" my heart... ❤️😭 Guess he's no longer scared of running out of cake

bilbo gifting thrandy a necklace as an apology for eating and drinking his stuff secretly, king shit 😉

bilbo having the absolute NERVE to say to ELVES "your lullaby would wake a drunken goblin". wig wig

he deadass borrowed a handkercheif from freaking ELROND 😳

bilbo arriving home to being presumed dead and his stuff literally being auctioned off

"it was a long time before he was in fact admitted to being alive again…" and sackville-bagginses having sm beef with that HAHAHA

he lost his reputation but he lived his best life so who's the winner here 😌😌😌

the closing lines "you are a very fine person, mr baggins, and i am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all" "thank goodness! said bilbo laughing."

like. THIS. literally embodies everything. he is just a little guy. just some smol person. BUT STILL had a say in how BIG things happened. BUT he remains happy to be just a smol simple person.

overall an incredibly fun read and it was way more genuinely FUNNY than i anticipated. bilbo is a whole mood. thorin is a diva. gandalf is there to start shit and hype up bilbo. jrrt with random author's notes throughout the book gives me life.

[anneangel]

Friendship...

I just love the friendship between Bilbo and Elrond, Bilbo and Aragorn, Bilbo and Frodo, and Bilbo and Thranduil, and I'm sad because I've already read all the little fanfictions about Bilbo's friendship with them!

So here are some excerpts from the books in case anyone wants to get inspired:

“Hmmm! it smells like elves!” thought Bilbo, and he looked up at the stars. … He loved elves, though he seldom met them. … Bilbo would have liked to stay a while. Also he would have liked to have a few private words with these people that seemed to know his names and all about him, although he had never seen them before. He thought their opinion of his adventure might be interesting. Elves know a lot and are wondrous folk for news, and know what is going on among the peoples of the land, as quick as water flows, or quicker. (…) They (the dwarves, Gandalf and Bilbo) stayed long in that good house, fourteen days at least, and they found it hard to leave. Bilbo would gladly have stopped therefor ever and ever.

The master of the house was an elf-friend — one of those people whose fathers came into the strange stories before the beginning of History, the wars of the evil goblins and the elves and the first men in the North. In those days of our tale there were still some people who had both elves and heroes of the North for ancestors, and Elrond the master of the house was their chief. — He was as noble and as fair in face as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer. He comes into many tales, but his part in the story of Bilbo’s great adventure is only a small one, though important (…) His house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Evil things did not come into that valley.

(...) Bilbo heard many stories there (...)

“What are moon-letters?” asked the hobbit full of excitement. He loved maps (…) and he also liked runes and letters and cunning handwriting, though when he wrote himself it was a bit thin and spidery.

“Moon-letters are rune-letters, but you cannot see them,” said Elrond, “not when you look straight at them (…)”.

There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures (…). When the tale of their journeyings was told, there were other tales, and yet more tales, tales of long ago, and tales of new things, and tales of no time at all, till Bilbo’s head fell forward on his chest, and he snored comfortably in a corner. He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an open window. (…) “A little sleep does a great cure in the house of Elrond,” said he.

Weariness fell from him soon in that house, and he had many a merry jest and dance, early and late, with the elves of the valley. - The Hobbit

‘(…) you are the heir of Bilbo, the Ring-finder.'

`Dear Bilbo!' said Frodo sleepily. `I wonder where he is. I wish he was here and could hear all about it. It would have made him laugh. (…)

Gloin looked at Frodo and smiled. 'You were very fond of Bilbo were you not?' he asked.

`Yes,' answered Frodo. 'I would rather see him than all the towers and palaces in the world.'

Elrond went forward and stood beside the silent figure. 'Awake little master!’ he said, with a smile. Then, turning to Frodo, he beckoned to him. 'Now at last the hour has come that you have wished for, Frodo,' he said. `Here is a friend that you have long missed.'

The dark figure raised its head and uncovered its face. `Bilbo!' cried Frodo with sudden recognition, and he sprang forward.

`Hello, Frodo my lad!' said Bilbo. `So you have got here at last. Ihoped you would manage it. Well, well! So all this feasting is in your honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?'

`What were you doing?'

`Why, sitting and thinking. I do a lot of that nowadays, and this is the best place to do it in, as a rule. Wake up, indeed!' he said, cocking an eye at Elrond. There was a bright twinkle in it and no sign of sleepiness that Frodo could see. 'Wake up! I was not asleep. Master Elrond. If you want to know, you have all come out from your feast too soon, and you have disturbed me-in the middle of making up a song. (…) I shall have to get my friend the Dunadan to help me. Where is he?'

Elrond laughed. `He shall be found,' he said. (...)

They did not notice the arrival of a man clad in dark green cloth. For many minutes he stood looking down at them with a smile. Suddenly Bilbo looked up. 'Ah, there you are at last, Dunadan!' he cried.

`Strider!' said Frodo. `You seem to have a lot of names.' (…)

`Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady Arwen was there.'

Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. `I know,' he said. 'But often I must put mirth aside. Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild (…).

`Well, my dear fellow,' said Bilbo, `now you've heard the news, can't you spare me a moment? I want your help in something urgent. Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!'

Strider smiled. `Come then!' he said. `Let me hear it!'

(…)

`I was not sent to beg any boon, but to seek only the meaning of a riddle,' answered Boromir proudly(…) He looked again at Aragorn, and doubt was in his eyes.

Frodo felt Bilbo stir impatiently at his side. Evidently he was annoyed on his friend's behalf. Standing suddenly up he burst out:

‘(…) Not all those who wander are lost (…)’. Not very good perhaps, but to the point -- if you need more beyond the word of Elrond. If that was worth a journey of a hundred and ten days to hear, you had best listen to it.' He sat down with a snort.

`I made that up myself,' he whispered to Frodo, `for the Dunadan, a long time ago when he first told me about himself. I almost wish that my adventures were not over, and that I could go with him when his day comes.'

Aragorn smiled at him; then he turned to Boromir again. `For my part I forgive your doubt,' he said.

- The Lord Of The Rings.

And for Bilbo and Thranduil, here, see this post:

[lost-mango]

If We Were Villains wrecked me...I spoiled myself long ago. I had known of James's fate. But nothing could have prepared me for Oliver's grief. Ugly cried for him.

Oliver Marks is amazing. He reminds me of Elrond from lotr. Reading him, I could not help but remember Tolkien's description of Elrond- "As kind as summer," (Tolkien, The Hobbit).

So lovable. Oliver, the side-kick shines over every hero. Incorrigibly dense and unbelievably forgiving.

He had my heart the moment when he jumped into the lake to retrieve Richard's body. Not once does he levy the weight of his trauma over anyone else (God I love him so much).

Oliver, who not once is bound by the hubris of a main character. He who, without a complaint takes the role of a custodian.

Definitely going in for a second read.

[runawaymun]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @fenharel-enaste, thank you!!! This looks fun :D

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope. I was named due to the meaning.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uh two days ago when the Horrors were upon me.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope!

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sarcasm is like 98% of my humor and it really gets me in trouble sometimes. D:

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Prev said vibes and I have to second that. It's hard to really explain, but I'm just always paying attention to how someone makes me feel when talking to them. I've got pretty bad social anxiety and a traumatic background so if I find someone who gives off comfy vibes who I feel safe around, that's a pretty big deal. I'm always weighing how safe I am around people.

6. What's your eye colour?

Light blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Both?

"Happy" endings is a loaded term for me. I don't always need stories to have "happy" endings, but I do want catharsis in some way shape or form. If I don't get catharsis, then why are we even here lol

8. Any special talents?

Mimicking character voice when writing. If we're going to go with a random specific talent. I like to think I have a knack for making characters sound like themselves when I'm writing fanfic.

9. Where were you born?

Portland, Oregon :)

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing (obviously), playing video games (especially survival and RPGs), discussing fiction with friends, DnD when my chronic illness is behaving, reading, making music playlists

11. Have you any pets?

Three cats :) Malka (curly tailed half feral beastie we got off the street), Patrick (orange clinically stupid sweet boy), and Rhaenyra (wee zoom zoom kitten. A menace).

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Literally zero D: we weren't really a family that did "sports" growing up. I did a bit of ballet and some swim lessons. I always wanted to do gymnastics, though!

13. How tall are you?

4'9" or so.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Absolutely any history classes (but mostly any kind of pre 20th century history!), and chemistry.

15. Dream job?

cottage-in-the-woods resident, baker of bread, ideally making enough money to support myself via any combo of my art skills.

TAGGING WITH NO PRESSURE: @robertaramayo @jaz-the-bard @raointean @eldritchteletubbie @softlypause @bananaphanta @creativity-of-death @elrond-kind-as-summer @modernmythic @blueberryrock @valasania-the-pale @themerriweathermage @the-commonplace-book @ichabodjane @ramyun-monster

[feanope]

A Love Left Unfinished    

My contribution for this year’s Tolkien Secret Santa Advent Calendar Event @officialtolkiensecretsanta, Day 15 (Memories).

Summary:   Whilst everyone in Imladris celebrates the summer solstice, Glorfindel prefers solitude to dwell on memories.

Pairing: past/implied Glorfindel/Ecthelion

Rating: T+

Word Count: 1.2 k

Additional Tags: Memories, Grief/Mourning, Glorfindel is still so very much in love it hurts

~.~

Wind dances through the pine wood, rustling and shaking the golden leaves above Glorfindel’s head, whilst from afar the gushing waters of the river Bruinen can be heard. Glorfindel has long left the zig-zag path which leads towards the valley bottom, fighting his way through dense shrubs and bushes.  

Night has spread its wings over Imladris, and it has become quiet in the surrounding woods except for the sounds of nature.

Quiet—something Imladris currently is not.

Every night, another feast with drinks, laughter, and merriment commences in the Hall of Fire to celebrate the change of season often lasting long after dawn.

That is why Glorfindel is patrolling the forest, just like he had all the years before. Despite eons ago, the memories of his previous life still root too deep in his heart, and always will. And too painful is witnessing untarnished merriment to celebrate spring giving way to summer in the home he has long come to love.

Continue reading on AO3 or below the read more

Granting him leave year in, year out is Elrond’s gift to him; the greatest one he can actually give. Considerate, like everything else the Lord of the Hidden Valley does. To Glorfindel, but also to all the others who found a home in the Last Homely House. That’s why Glorfindel feels guilty—ungrateful even for running away— despite Elrond having told him a hundred times there is no reason to.

He, just like everyone else, knows the reason for Glorfindel’s behavior. How should they not, when Imladris’ library is full of books describing his fate?

On days like these, memories always pull Glorfindel under.

And on days like these, the moon somehow shines brighter.

So do the stars.

Twinkling, and glittering against the dark night sky wherever the pines give way to it.

Sparkling—like the diamonds in Ecthelion’s hair, is all Glorfindel can think.

It’s past midnight and still eerily quiet in the forest, save for the voices in Glorfindel’s head. Phantom voices in a way: whispers, and laughter, drowned out in endless cries. They all blend together in his head into an ugly cacophony of sounds.

Absently, Glorfindel traces the edge of the burn around his throat with one hand. Before he was granted leave from Námo’s halls to return among the living, he was given a choice, although rather a hypothetical question, at least to the one who had asked it: to have his body renewed or bearing scars where once wounds from the Balrog’s claws and whip had been. skin. The question itself had rung like blasphemy in Glorfindel’s ears.

“No,” he had said, and then, when questioned again, he had replied with determination, “Never.”

The audacity of the question still angers him, even now, hundreds of years later. The scars are connected to his memories; to everything he once was—still is.

 And so he had come into the world like this, with memories etched into his skin.

 And yet.

On days like these, it’s all there—the pain, the hurt, and all the misery he still fails to voice and name. Phantom pain, kind of, in the beginning of summer; the days which are meant to be the merriest ones of the year.

     Tarnin Austa    .

The Gates of Summer.

Although the festival has long become legend, it’s still alive in Glorfindel’s thoughts. The fateful day when fire and flame had illuminated Gondolin’s nightly sky; the happy days all the years before, when laughter laced with drunkenness had echoed back from the snow-white walls of Gondolin.

The days around the summer solstice are the only days during which Glorfindel doesn’t wear high-collared robes, although no-one will ever see the ugly scars as he walks the earth alone around this date. To him, it is a tribute to the fallen, to those who still dwell in Mandos’ halls; a love letter to Ecthelion, whom he still loves like nothing else. Irony has it that their love, which once had been born amidst the cruelty of the ice, then when both thought they were invincible had been extinguished by searing fire.

It's not true.

Not extinguished. Never that.

In Glorfindel’s heart, it had survived and lives on, to be never quenched.

But on days like these, it burns brighter.

     Stronger    .

Like the stars.

When Glorfindel sits down at a small stream that meanders through the forest, tears are already running down his face. The tunic he wears, dark with golden lining, hangs open, the way Ecthelion had loved it best whenever they were in private. Laughing, his lips had been glued to Glorfindel’s collarbone; laughing, he’d moved upwards to where now scar tissue adorns his throat instead of golden jewelry.

They’d danced—and in the end, both had fallen. Cut down, saving lives in valiant defense, and not even the sweet smell of the forest can quench the stench of ash and burnt flesh burned into Glorfindel’s memories.

When Ecthelion had sunk in the king’s fountain with the Balrog with him, the world had frozen, and Glorfindel with it.

Afterward, Glorfindel had functioned—mechanical, tactical—moving on, and on. He had functioned because for that he had been trained ever since leaving Aman behind. Questioned later on how he had escaped the city, he couldn’t remember most of it, and of the little he did remember, the memories are hazy at best.

But somehow, he had made it—they had made it out of Gondolin through Idril’s secret tunnel. Alive. Even as the White City blazed in fire, beleaguered without hope.  

Breathless, but confident to have escaped, they were ambushed by a league of orcs and a Balrog. The events that followed have long become legends.

When Glorfindel had arrived in Námo’s halls, he’d felt helpless; as if the earth had opened up under him, as Ecthelion wasn’t there. Anywhere. Nowhere. Not even days later.

There had always been rumors about the Black Foe trying to capture the souls of the fallen; those shattered by death.

What if…

Sometimes, Glorfindel still hears his fëa’s cry of despair in his head; the thought that Ecthelion’s soul could have fallen into the hands of Morgoth—gone forever to be humiliated and much worse—had been worse than dying, and the grief it had provoked worse than anything he’d known.

He had cried, and he had wept, and he had pleaded for mercy to the gods in the twilight of the halls.

In the end, Námo had taken pity on Glorfindel.

On them both, for Ecthelion’s worry about Glorfindel must have been equally terrifying according to Námo’s Maiar.

When a shooting star dashes across the sky, Glorfindel’s heart clenches.

A sign.

Or a promise.

 Maybe, it is both.

Either way, it makes Glorfindel’s lips curve into a smile. Small, but a smile nevertheless. They spent so many nights sitting on Gondolin’s walls. Laughing, hiding, kissing—watching the night become day again, the shooting stars, and the moon.

He’s doing the same now.

Alone, losing himself in memories.

Saying the words he’s never said, for back then, they were meaningless in their world of beauty and bliss; saying them over, and over again, for that maybe, the wind may carry them across the sea.

Heralding the promise, that one day, one way or another, they’ll be reunited again.

He knows they will be for that had been his terms—non-negotiable—to return to Middle-earth again.

And then, he won’t ever be alone again.

 *

[naruthandir]

Funny to me how for most people it's a LOTR->Linguistics pipeline but for me it was a linguistics->LOTR pipeline. I never really had an interest in reading Lord of the Rings because the whole thing used to struck me as very boring and I didn't really care but from ages 12-14 I was really getting into fantasy worldbuilding and conlanging "formally" (I did do that kind of stuff before that, but I didn't know it had a name or that there were comunities formed around it) and I said "Look if I am going to be a nerd about this I am going to be a full nerd about this I can't go around life calling myself a Fantasy Nerd™ when all I know about LOTR is that there is a fucked up goblin guy and Legolas has a bow" so I decided to bought the Fellowship of the Ring book in the bookstore because I am autistic and I have a hard time engaging with material I am unfamiliar with so I just picked the safest option and then I read it in a weekend. I came home, I sat down to read, and from the very start I was invested. Because Tolkien had THE BALLS to open his book with an extensive infodump about Hobbit culture and I was so into that. And the chapters in the Shire, they were a genuine delight for me. I thought the book would be boring but it was fun! It was funny! And hobbit culture felt so alive...

And when the final chapter of the Fellowship came I almost cried. Rightly, it was at that moment I realized that this was going to be a life-changing experience whether I like it or not.

Since I didn't have the rest of the books back then (and I wasn't really able to get them for reasons I don't remember) I did the most autistic thing: Right after finishing it, I decided to read it again, because I was that obsessed. I made so much silly cringy art of the characters as I imagined them and it was all I could think about in school. When I finally got my hands to The Two Towers and The Return of the King I decided to refresh my memory by reading Fellowship AGAIN and because it was summer I had the luxury to just sit down and read all day long and it was great.

I went into the books as blind as you could possibly go: I knew there were conlangs and lore, I knew there were elves, I knew the protagonist was named Frodo and the plot was about destroying a ring (there is also a being that calls the ring precious because its like a drug? Idk). But not much else. I didn't know Boromir was going to die. I didn't know about Galadriel or Elrond or Aragorn or Sam. Yes, I didn't know that Sam was a character. I was genuinely surprised at each turn the plot was taking. I was surprised about how GAY it all was (why didn't they tell me about this??) and I was absolutely shaken and emotionally destroyed with the ending. The Return of the King was an awakening of sorts for me, because I was expecting a whimsical fantasy story and instead I got to see The Horrors and I just couldn't believe the comic relief characters were dealing with suicidal ideation, out of all things.

And the last bit of Frodo's journey... Well, the scene in the tower of Cirith Ungol was genuinely rough (when Sam found Frodo, he was naked. And I just closed the book and stared into the ceiling for a while. I just had to take a break real fast) and the struggle with the ring as they got closer to Mordor and I was constantly almost-crying-but-not-quite and I knew, even though I went into the story un-spoiled, I knew Frodo wouldn't give up the ring. And then having him deal with the aftermath of it, and I was so distressed the whole time because finally, someone out there gets it. He sailed off to the west and I cried. I actually cried, right after finishing the book, yes, but for a few nights after as well. It was, well, a lot to process for 14 year old me. It had me looking up the diagnostic criteria of PTSD on Google at three in the morning because this can't be right. It wasn't that bad, surely I'm just being dramatic.

And it is very funny, that I was getting into the books expecting extensive sections of infodumping and lore and LINGUISTICS and I did get that, don't get me wrong, but I also got an emotionally resonant story that complelty re-contextuslized my lived experiences, helped me process stuff I had been shoving down the back of my mind because I didn't have the words to even describe it to myself, and lowkey turned me into a transgender anarchist. I was a changed man (just now fully aware that I was a man in the first place). It blew me away completely.

And it also reinforced my interest in linguistics! I often joke about this, but as a kid, I used to read the dictionary instead of paying attention in class. I liked words. Like, a lot. I liked the way words interacted with each other. I was like 9, perhaps, when I first attempted to create a made-up language, for a race of fictional mermaid race. I was really into My Little Pony at the time and I stole a lot of the story from there (don't forget I was nine) and my attempt at conlanging utterly failed, but still. LOTR felt pretty much tailored to me, when I finally gave it a shot. My favorite appendix was, of course, the one dealing with translation. If I was mildly interested in linguistics before this sent me down a rabbithole. I did my whole final school project for graduating on minority languages of Europe (though, due to the pandemic, I never finished it, which is a shame). I picked the literature course in high-school over the fine arts course because they had a morphology and etymology class. I named myself Beren, for fuck's sake, and I've been going by this name in real life for two and a half years by now. That's how important it was.

I really can't overstate how much this silly little book with silly little fairy people influenced my life. It's. Well, it's cringy, it's awfully, awfully cringy, embarrassing, mortifying. Isn't it funny, that we are shamed and made fun of for loving things so unapologetically? For genuinely connecting with art? Even though that's like, the whole point?

I just want to say. This is important to me. This means a lot to me. I keep talking about it but I can't help myself because it's hilarious. I went into this book out of a sense of responsibility and it completely changed my life.

This post wasn't meant to be this long. Uh. Sorry. I just wanted to make a silly joke about "Tolkien fan goes on to study formal linguistics, but it's not for the reason you think" but it turned into this whole personal rant. This is like a tendency of mine, no I don't know how to stop it. I'm sorry if this is in your dash lmao

[thecrownless]

through centuries above

Behind the lilac trees where the bees hum in the sweet flowers, Thranduil sits with the shadow of old blood wet on his fingers. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ he asks Elrond in the span of three minutes, for the words are hard to get out. Elrond turns and looks at him with wide silver-grey eyes, borrowed from some memory and never returned. ‘I’m still angry,’ Thranduil says, even though that might not be the secret – or all of the secret, or the most most important part of the secret. But it’s the part that’s flooding his beaten heart.

Elrond rests a steady hand over Thranduil’s long fingers. His touch is warm and too comforting. He has taken too much pain and twisted it into hope, or love, or both, kept together. It is written in his borrowed eyes. It tries to stop the unravelling of his tattered soul.

It’s beautiful in its determination, and horrible in how Thranduil can compare himself to Elrond and find that he doesn’t measure up. Somehow though even with that clear on Elrond’s face, he wants to tell him every rotten thought and bare every pain, because Elrond is kind in the sort of way that means he won’t judge him.

He can say, ‘is it so bad that I hate the gods simply for being gods?’ and Elrond squeezes his fingers, and it is not an answer, and it is an answer.

It is the only answer he wants, because he can’t hear it, and if he can’t hear it, he’s spilled open questions that don’t exist, and the echo of his voice won’t unfold for the rest of eternity, rippling away from him, carrying his anger to the heavens.

He’s already told the heavens, and the stars are gentle in Elrond’s stolen eyes.

Thranduil touches the earth. His father is dead. The Valar do not come to collect their fallen servants. People die.

‘I’m angry at you too,’ he says, and Elrond’s hand does not leave him. ‘Though it’s not your fault.’ It is his fault. It isn’t.

It is a tragedy of war. It is a tragedy of the world. It is a mistake.

He lifts Elrond’s hand with his and rests them both on his leg. He puts his other hand over his hand, holding it safe between his. He holds it in a vice.

‘I just want to blame something I can touch,’ he says.

Elrond slips his hand free and then draws Thranduil into his arms and onto his lap, carefully. He brushes his hair back until it is all out of his face and settled against his back. His touch is gentle – a healer’s touch: you can’t forget it. He settles Thranduil’s head against his shoulder, so that Thranduil has to look up at him to see his face. He does. Elrond’s eyes are still stolen, like his innocence, like his youth.

It was so long ago.

It was cruel.

Elrond turns his face and kisses Thranduil where his lips press.

‘I want to blame you,’ Thranduil says again. ‘I want to blame everyone.’ He stays on Elrond’s lap. He does not cry. He wishes he could. It’s been so long since he cried.

Sometimes he measures the years. Sometimes he stares at the forest and watches the leaves change. It’s easy to lose yourself in dreams. He sets them as traps for others. He knows how because he’s felt them too dearly.

Elrond strokes his hair. He does not answer. Thranduil is giving secrets. Elrond is not giving blame.

Thranduil touches the ring on Elrond’s finger even though they aren’t supposed to talk about such things, even though they are supposed to be secret, invisible. He’s seen too much though. Maybe that is why he can see it. Why he can feel it. Why it gleams as deep as the night sky for which Elrond is named.

Elrond is more beautiful, with his stolen eyes – his stolen, shadowed hair.

‘We’re alive,’ Thranduil says, but his voice sounds uncertain.

‘We are,’ Elrond speaks for the first time in a long time.

‘I am strong for my people,’ he says.

‘You are.’

Thranduil slips down in Elrond’s arms until his head rests on his lap. He is too tired to sit up, even supported.

‘How many mistakes can you make before you’re doomed?’ he asks.

‘Fate doesn’t work like that.’ Elrond strokes Thranduil’s hair. For a second, his hair catches on his ring.

The sunlight is gentle on the lilac blossoms. It is sharp on the leaves.

‘Sometimes I wish it were all equations,’ Thranduil whispers. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Then sleep.’

‘I can’t.’

Thranduil holds onto Elrond’s leg. It’s easy to tell him secrets. He gathers them up so carefully you could cry. He doesn’t break because he can’t anymore.

‘You take too much,’ Elrond says. ‘You overwork yourself.’

‘No.’ Thranduil shakes his head. ‘That’s you.’

Elrond lifts Thranduil’s hair and lets it fall. He smooths it gently. He lifts it again. ‘It can be both of us.’

‘I thought you’d deny it.’

‘I won’t try lying to you.’

Thranduil looks up at Elrond again. Elrond’s eyes are soft. His fingers stroke through his hair. He smiles weakly down at him.

‘I’m still angry,’ Thranduil whispers.

‘So am I,’ Elrond answers softly.

Thranduil reaches up and strokes his cheek. He cradles Elrond’s face in his hand, his fingers spread out over his features, two fingers over his eye, his hand covering half his mouth.

Elrond does not move. He is framed by the lilacs.

Thranduil wants to take him into his arms and take his pain away. He cannot. He wants to promise him that everything will be all right now, but he won’t lie to him.

The evening is beautiful. The sun is high. Maybe this summer he will live again. He does not know how long it is supposed to take to heal. Elves aren’t supposed to die.

They do.

‘So many of them died,’ Thranduil murmurs, barely moving his lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ Elrond answers, against his hand, like it could be his fault.

‘I wish I had something more to say.’ Thranduil does not move his hand. ‘Something that isn’t just…’

‘Anger.’ Elrond kisses his hand.

‘I wish I were wise. Don’t,’ he says, when he feels Elrond’s lips move. ‘You are wise.’

Elrond says nothing. The wind stirs his hair.

Elrond is dangerous. If you aren’t careful, he’ll steal your pain. He won’t give it back. He’ll keep it, like Thingol’s eyes. Like every terrible secret whispered to him.

Here they are behind the lilac trees, in stalemate.

In the woods about them, nightingales sing.

[thequeensjester]

One Will Only Corrupt, Two Will Always Divide, with Three—There Is Balance.

S1 ends on the forging of the Elven Rings and its rationale behind the Three—no one ring-bearer can become stronger than the rest. S2 shows us how that would work with the Lindon scene.

When Galadriel meets Gil-galad, we have this cowboy shot of Gil-galad (shown from the thigh up). He's intimidating and shields Elrond from Galadriel. He physically separating between the two in conflict.

In the individual shots of Galadriel and Elrond, we still see Gil-galad's physical presence, emphasizing the power he carries.

In this 3-shot, we have an inverted triangle composition, showing disharmony. Gil-galad is the largest figure and with the most power.

Galadriel is closest to the camera but stands at the lowest height on set, indicating her troubled status. Elrond is the furthest away from the camera in perspective but visually closer to Gil-galad.

In s1, Galadriel often held her head up high, whether it was due to her pride or her strong sense of self. Here she does it again but instead, she painfully admits the truth of Halbrand's identity.

The set makes it so that Galadriel would have to look up at Gil-galad. I think it's interesting that Morfydd chose not to hang her head in shame because she was actually deceived* and didn't realize it until it was too late. Her shame manifests in tears because she's apologetic and trying to be accountable for her own mistakes.

(*Lying by omission and running with someone else's assumptions without ever correcting them until caught, is deception.)

While Galadriel stands alone in her POV, that's not the case when the camera switches to Gil-galad's POV, in which he's considering what the Elven Rings could mean for their kind.

She is still the smallest but this POV positions her closer to Gil-galad. There's now a wider gap between Gil-galad and Elrond instead.

When Galadriel joins them on the platform, she is now at standing behind Gil-Galad, taking Elrond's former position.

Here we have the turn tables.

Elrond is now facing Gil-galad and his golden wall that shields Galadriel across the entire frame. (also note the imposing vertical lines from the golden trees in the background for visual continuity.)

But, Elrond stands closest to the camera because he has an upper-hand over Gil-galad and Galadriel and escapes with the Elven Rings.

The push and pull of this scene is a clever and dynamic demonstration of having shared power among the Elven Rings, without even wearing them.

— credit: cap-that.com

[mai-sau]

prompt 2 with kidnap dads?

thank u so much for prompting!! i hope u like it!

i am so weak for kidnap fam i love them so much... i picture this taking place like maybe 2-3 years into living together. like, long enough that there’s genuine bonds that have grown between them, but still also relatively close to the kinslaying (also i may or may not have referenced the first russingon prompt i did no need for context though!! just gotta... slide in those beloved interpersonal relationships)

i am also. so sorry, this ended up being, almost 2k words, im so sowwy, i hope u enjoy this uninterrupted bout of kidnap fam self indulgence

Prompt: “Please don’t hide from me.”

As any other night since they had arrived, the halls of Amon Ereb were nestled in shadow and silence. At times, Maglor preferred the sorely needed serenity. And at others - like tonight - he found himself staring at his own dull ceiling, echoes and whispers suffocating his very mind as the muggy summer heat did the same to his lungs. What might have been, what already was, what frightfully will be... Silence was, unfortunately, a gifted listener.

Mostly, it was fine: he would just make it through until morning, and the lingering exhaustion would put him to sleep the next night. It was fine.

A shriek pierced the air.

Maglor could not help it - every muscle in his body tensed. Memories buffeted him like a frozen hail, every vein turning to ice; dozens of shrieks, screams, cries joined the echoes in miserable cacophony. This only lasted a moment; a lifetime of battle (murder) sprung him into action quickly enough.

Kicking off the sheets sticking to his legs, Maglor raced towards the door. He threw on his boots, grabbed his sword, and was dashing through the hall in the blink of an eye. As he careened full tilt through the halls - where did it come from, who was hurt, who was bleeding, who was dying - he heard Maedhros’ door slam open as well. Maglor did not need to check to see if he followed;  an instinct forged through years of battle together, he could feel his brother’s presence at his side, knew the nimble footfalls that trailed his.

Another cry sounded from the dark - this one sounding more like a wail, than anything else. Maglor froze. “That sounded like-” he gasped.

“-the twins’ room.” Maedhros confirmed, eyes grim. If anything, Maglor could see him grip his blade tighter. He felt too sick to think on it.

Without another word, they took off. They reached the twins’ door, and with a single glance between them, threw it open. Each held their blade at the ready.

The room was dark, like the rest of the fortress. From what moonlight streamed through the window, Maglor could make out a tiny figure huddled up on one of the beds. The other was empty. As he slowly came closer, he could make out the wide-eyed face of Elrond.

Lowering - but not putting away - his sword, Maglor eased into the gentlest voice he could despite the panic pumping through his veins. “Elrond,” he beckoned. “Sweetheart, where’s Elros? Are you two alright?”

Elrond merely sniffled and rubbed a little fist through his weeping face.

Maglor felt Maedhros pass him. His brother kneeled down in front of Elrond, and lowered his sword to the floor. Maglor knew him well enough to sense that he should not do the same.

“Elrond,” Maedhros said. “You are not in trouble. We’re just worried about you and your brother, and want to make sure you’re safe. Is that alright?”

Shakily, Elrond nodded.

“Okay,” Maedhros continued. “Are you hurt?”

Elrond shook his head. His body was still trembling all over.

“That’s good,” Maedhros said. “Is Elros hurt?”

Elrond burst into a fresh wave of sobs.

Maedhros shot Maglor a panicked glance. Maglor walked up and took his brother’s place by the bed, Maedhros seamlessly rising to his feet to switch out. At this distance, Maglor could see Elrond’s face clearly in the moonlight: ruddy and wet with tears. Maglor’s chest clenched. Elrond raised fearful eyes to meet Maglor’s and - oh. He could hardly bear it. He longed to run away from the bed, away from the proof of their failures, away from the echoes building to a crescendo in his skull. His heart felt sick.

But - no. No.

He cannot run. He must face this, he must face them. And they are more than echoes. They are the two wonderful boys who came into his life, two of the last lights left in it. By Eru, he would see them cherished and cared for, though he did not deserve that privilege with all the wrongs he’s done.

My wrongs do not matter, Maglor chastised himself. Only their wounds.

“Sweetheart,” Maglor murmured. “If Elros is hurt, we want to take care of him. We’ll heal him, whatever may be the problem. I…” He trailed off, before meeting Elrond’s tear-stricken eyes. “I promise.”

Elrond regarded him for a moment. Gradually, his tremors calmed, and he reached a small hand out to grasp Maglor’s, resting on the bedside. “He’s in the dresser.”

Maglor blinked. “The dresser?”

Elrond nodded. “He woke up screaming.”

It was Maedhros, not Maglor, who spoke first. “I see,” Maedhros said. “Thank you for telling us, Elrond.”

Maglor watched his brother walk over to the dresser, and now listening closely he could hear the barest of muffled whimpers come from its direction. He stayed by the bed and squeezed Elrond’s hand.

Maedhros knelt down in front of the dresser. He put down his sword, both brothers’ blades now on the stone floor. “Elros,” he called softly to the wooden doors. “Elros, you are in Amon Ereb. You are safe. You are loved.” He swallowed thickly before continuing in the same steady tone. “You may come out whenever you wish, though I will stay right here if you need me.”

“Is it alright if I talk with you? I’ll stay out here.” Maedhros asked gently.

“...okay,” the dresser answered.

“You know,” Maedhros started. “I used to wake up in the middle of the night all the time too. I still do, sometimes. My dreams scared me so much, and even when I was awake and knew it was all a dream, I was still very upset.” He closed his eyes, breathed once, twice, and continued. “I had someone who helped me calm down, though. For me, even if it didn’t make everything alright again, the help made me feel a lot better.”

“It… it did?” the dresser asked.

“Yes, it did.” Maedhros assured. “I can’t promise it’ll be the same, but if you would like, I can try my best to help.”

There was a beat of silence, before the dresser answered in a small voice, “Okay.”

“Would you like to open the door? It’s okay if you would rather it stay closed.”

The dresser creaked open and a tiny halfelven face, streaked with tears, peeked out the crack. “Only this much,” Elros said, voice uncertain as if he wasn’t sure whether his warning would be heeded. His little fingers shook around their grip on the door.

“Only that much,” Maedhros assented.

“Okay. Good.” Elros muttered. His hand retreated into the dresser.

“Would you like to talk about your dream at all? If you don’t want to, we can talk about something else.”

There was a long pause. Maedhros patiently waited on the floor, while Maglor marveled at his brother’s demeanor. It was like - it was like when Maedhros comforted Tyelko over a scraped knee, or Curufin over a burned finger, but slightly different. Sadder, and yet somehow kinder.

“You’ll get mad,” Elros finally whimpered.

“I won’t judge you, Elros,” Maedhros said. “I won’t be mad at you.”

There was another long pause, long enough that Maglor expected Maedhros to switch angles any moment now, until -

“It was about our home. Ada and Nana’s. There was lots of screaming. A lot of people on the floor. And we were hiding, but they found us, and there was a - a sword at my neck, and Elrond’s too, and Nana jumped, and the sword it - my neck -” Elros broke off, gasping out the words. “Sorry, I don’t - I know you’re good, so why am I so scared?”

Maglor couldn’t help it: even comforting Elrond, who had gone quiet by now, he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. Maedhros, too, looked similarly stunned. Eventually, though, his posture relaxed again, though his eyes shone with tears. Raising his left hand, he steadily wiped them away.

“You have every right to feel that way, Elros,” Maedhros told him, voice no less kind. “And it’s perfectly normal. We did an - an unspeakable thing that day, and hurt you two in the process. Though I am -” Maedhros paused, grasping for the right words, “- endeared, that you think well of us, we also did awful things, and that is a part of us too.”

“Though Maglor and I would never want to hurt you, and we will do everything in our power to keep you both safe and happy, you’re allowed to not like us too.” Maedhros rubbed at his stump, absentmindedly smoothing over the sleeve. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“But I don’t,” Elros said softly. “I don’t not like you.” He fell silent for a moment. “I love you,” he confessed, voice barely a whisper. “It’s just that I have these dreams, and I get scared. And sometimes I’m mad.”

“That’s okay too,” Maedhros assured him. “If you ever want to talk to us, we will be right here. And if you - either of you - ever want me and Maglor to go, if you would feel more comfortable if we gave you space, you are more than allowed to ask. We would love you all the same. Even if you need the space because you are angry with us, or upset, that’s okay. We would rather you get what you need instead of trying to hide it.” Maedhros pleaded. “Please don’t hide from us.”

A heavy silence sat in the air. “Would you like us to go, dear?” Maglor asked, finally finding his voice.

The door shot open. A tiny, sniffling elfling jumped out. Elros wrapped his arms firmly around Maedhros, and squeezed as tight as he could. “Please stay,” he begged, voice muffled by Maedhros’ nightshirt.

Maedhros’ eyes softened as he wrapped his arms around Elros. Gently, he smoothed over Elros’ sweat-matted hair with his left hand. “Of course,” he said. “If that is what you want.”

Face still pressed into the nightshirt, Elros nodded.

Maglor turned back to Elrond. “What about you, darling? Anything you want.”

Elrond released his hand. And promptly tackled him with a hug as well. “Can you stay?” He asked. “Can you stay with us for tonight? Even though… I think I might ask to be alone sometimes,” He added.

“That’s perfectly alright, dear,” Maglor said, picking up and placing him on his hip as he rose. “Maedhros, are there any spare blankets?”

“Yes,” Maedhros huffed with a small grin. “If the Dresser Guardian shall let me pass, that is,” he teased. Elros giggled, standing aside. He still held on to Maedhros’ hand.

Maedhros fished out the blankets and laid them on the floor. Soon enough, he and Maglor were nestled in their makeshift beddings alongside the beds, which the twins were tucked into with a murmured “I love you,” and kiss pressed to each of their heads.

Maglor laid on top of his blankets, surrounded once again by nothing but the warm summer air. As he gazed at the moonlight spilling across the ceiling, his eyelids grew heavy, before closing.

All was silent.

[oldtowrs]

I’m not sure if you do the characters x-y-z in one post or not. But if you do any I get headcanons/imagines with the elves and their s/o having their child? Like during the pregnancy to how they are with the babies? Would they be okay with the s/o being human so their kid(s) being half elf? What kinda parent would they be? Stuff like that please and thank you so much

PREGNANCY 

(elves of middle earth edition)

a/n: of course! thank you for requesting! feel free to send in more requests, i’m on summer vacay and i’m bored out of my mind! also sorry if there’s any errors, i just kind of whipped this up and didn’t really proof read it

ELROND

telling elrond that you’re pregnant with his child would be the easiest thing in the world

once you tell him, a look of pure adoration would come over his face and his happiness would bring one of the widest and most genuine smiles you’d have ever seen from him

he wouldn’t hesitate to gently take you into his arms and kiss you over and over again, laying loving kisses wherever he can

countless thank you’s and i love you’s would be uttered that night as he holds you close

elrond, kind and wise in nature, would be even more so during your pregnancy. if you needed anything, he would drop everything just to tend to you 

obviously wouldn’t mind if you were human and if he had half-elf children. he’d love you and them all the same

would act like parenting is the easiest thing in the world. even if it’s his first child, he would be sure of himself because he would’ve taken any free moment he had in the months leading up to his child’s birth educating himself on how to properly parent and talking to you about everything parenthood implied. 

plus he would already have everything arranged for the child’s arrival months ahead of your due date

would be slightly worried during the birth, but would try to hide it for your sake. he would be there throughout the whole thing, holding your hand and kissing your forehead and giving you reassuring comments the whole time

when his child is finally born, tears would definitely surface in his eyes. he’d be content sitting with you in his arms, and your child in yours, admiring the little being you two would have brought into existence

as a father, he would bend over backward for his kids. however, that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be firm in his teaching them the ways of the world and in their studies. he wants them to bring kindness into the world and be a source of good. 

is the supportive dad™. he would support his kids in everything they are and everything they ever choose to be and do. 

dad of the year award goes to elrond

GLORFINDEL

he would be so overwhelmed with joy that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself 

he would hug you to him and spin you around your living quarters, laughing with you and kissing you over and over again

after you tell him, his every action from then on would be one taken with the goal of making the world a better place for his child in mind

this dedication would also extend to you too. he would always be there to care for your aches and pains and cravings throughout the pregnancy, making sure you have everything you could possibly need and are content

would laugh a little at your mood swings, but ultimately would be there to comfort you when you get sad and calm you down when you get anxious or irritated. 

during the birth he would be anxious, although it would make you laugh because you had always been the one that was anxious or stressed leading up to the birth. 

his child would definitely have his golden curls, and he would already be so proud of his child for having them

honestly, this kiddo would be downright gorgeous from the moment they were born

glorfindel is the happiest dad ever. he would always smile in your child’s presence and would do anything to make them smile too. he would make his little family the happiest family in all of middle earth, even if he had to travel to mordor and back to do so

HALDIR

oh boy. haldir would be so nervous. he would be happy obviously, but he would need some reassuring. 

would be so worried he wouldn’t be a good father. however, if you comforted him with kisses and loving words, he would grow to realize that he can be the father he hopes he can be. after that, he’ll be so happy and he’ll hold you near to him

wouldn’t be outright and obvious with his efforts, but he would definitely do everything in his power to protect you and his child and make lothlorien a safer place. he would take more shifts and make sure that the borders were secure at any and all possible times. 

he would have so much love for his unborn child, but his worry would often cloud the affect of his motives, as he later realizes when you ask him to not take a night shift so he can be with you

just calm this nervous elf down and tell him that as long as he is loving towards your child that he will be the best father there could possibly be.

you and his child would definitely bring out sweeter side to him. one evening after he comes home from guarding lothlorien, he’ll find you reading a book, with the last of the sun’s rays streaming in through the window beside you, blending with the maternal glow pregnancy seemed to give you. he would be in awe and would be very sweet in telling you so. 

‘you look so beautiful, love’

‘i’m pregnant, i can’t look that good’

‘darling, you put the moon and the stars, and the sun and her flowers to shame with your beauty’ 

despite his anxieties, he would be by your side throughout the entire pregnancy and would not yield before them during the birth of your child. he would hold your hand and wipe away your sweat and tears and be a loving and grounding reminder that everything will be okay

his children would either have your delicate features or his stern ones, but either way, they would have his silver hair and he would love them endlessly. 

he would shed a few tears when he first sees you holding your child. he would kiss you over and over again and hold you close. the soft boi elf in him would jump out 

would always be the overprotective dad. he just wants what is best for his child. however, he takes their happiness very seriously and would do anything to see them safe and smiling

LEGOLAS

would be beside himself with joy when you tell him 

he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling around you for weeks

he would be so happy, and he would take any chance he possibly could to hold your hand or hug you tight. 

literally the happiest dad ever

he would try to tell his dad that he wants to arrange everything for the baby’s arrival, such as its clothes, its room, its crib, etc. but thranduil would have none of it

this child is about to be more spoiled than the valar themselves

during the birth, legolas would be so scared for you and your child, but when everything turns out alright, he will be over the moon and floating amongst varda’s stars with elation. 

he’ll be so excited to hold his child, and when he finally gets to he will look at he or she and gaze lovingly up at you, making remarks on how one of their features matches yours

‘he/she’s got your eyes’

would advocate for his child to learn archery, regardless of their gender, while you would advocate for your child to learn the finer subjects of life, such as elvish literature and history, astronomy, etc. 

legolas would never be able to stop loving you or your child 

LINDIR

lindir would be so overjoyed he would break out in tears the moment the meaning of your announcement makes itself clear in his mind

he would grasp your face and kiss you with more passion than you think he ever had before

he kiss you over and over and hug you tightly to him, his long hands splayed over your shoulder blades and back as he cries into your hair and thanks you over and over

countless i love you’s muttered into still night air as he cuddles you close

would definitely be the type to talk to your stomach, telling his child how excited he is to meet his child and how much he loves them already

plays his harp for you and your child

as your pregnancy progresses however, he will become more and more anxious

he would begin to worry about everything from whether or not he is going to be a good father to whether the book of elvish fairy tales should go on the shelf across from the crib or on the table near the door

he would get so lost in the details you would often need to force him to pause his meddling, hold the sides of his face gently and look into his eyes and tell him to breathe. he will greatly appreciate these moments when you remind him all will be okay

however, this seems to be lost on him the moment you go into labor. he will be a ball of nerves the entire time

he will hold your hand just as tightly as you hold his, all the color draining from his face as he listens to your wails of pain

it is a great relief to both of you when, finally, your child’s cries fill the room. its as if both of you can breathe again, although the faint bruises on both of your hands might take a little while to fade. 

would be like haldir in how much he worries for his child and but over time he would become like elrond, calm and collected and loving beyond all else. 

definitely enjoys the little moments he has with you and his child

THRANDUIL

oh boy, you thought the other elves were happy? thranduil’s delight puts any other elf’s to shame

your news will literally hang galaxies in his eyes and oceans of happy tears will fall from his eyes when you tell him

his happiness will be so much it makes you cry too

he’s also quite vocal in letting you know how happy you make him as well

‘oh meleth, whenever i think you couldn’t make me happier, you always prove me wrong’

he will do everything and anything in his power to make sure you are comfortable

whether its buying you new gowns, making you food in the early hours of the morning, or just something as simple as cuddling you, he won’t hesitate for a moment

he will most definitely buy anything and everything he thinks your child might want. although sometimes you may have to remind him that spoiling your child too a certain extreme is never a good thing

when it comes time for your child to come into the world, the reality that thranduil is going to be a father truly hits

he begins to panic, but it will be your cries of pain that remind him that you need him

and so he will kiss your forehead and encourage you on and hold your hands through everything. he will not withhold an ounce of sweetness from you, making sure you always know how well you’re doing and how its almost over

and when your child is finally born, the expression of pure love that crosses his face-with tears in his eyes, his thick eyebrows turned slightly upwards, and an unyielding smile brighter than the sun itself on his lips-breaks your heart into splinters and rebuilds it a new with pure love and happiness, every shred of discontent gone from your heart and soul

thranduil is so loving. there is no doubt in your mind that the child will have the best guidance in matters of the heart and morals than any other elfling to ever walk the lands of arda

all in all, having a child with thranduil will be one of the best experiences of your life, and of his as well

[stagofwar]

All things considered, the Fellowship would have been the most unnerving thing to Sauron if he’d ever found out.

-We have Aragorn, who’s heir to the throne of Gondor, in whom the blood of Numenor runs ‘nearly true’; that would be ok, because Sauron pretty thoroughly trashed that bloodline the last time he got involved with them, but Aragorn is not only from the line that didn’t fall to his tricks - he’s from the line that managed to hide out from and survive the hilariously hostile world of Midle Earth long enough to see Sauron’s return. In other words, he’s a cockroach with a holy sword and a legitimate claim to a kingdom with something like five thousand years’ worth of legacy of defying Sauron more ably than anyone else in the world.

-We have Gimli, who is a warrior able enough to be considered worth sending to the Council of Elrond despite being centuries younger than every other Dwarf there. He’s loyal to a fault, perfectly willing to open his mind to other cultures once he’s had a chance to think about it for a minute, and probably the most charismatic person there short of Merry and Pippin - and they can’t control it. And he knows the meaning of politeness, which so many Elves think Dwarves don’t have. He is here for those he loves, always, and if they number all of Middle Earth by the end, so be it. Moreover, his body count over the course of the books is somewhere in the hundreds - if there are more like him, and there are (his family held off the Orc army invading the Lonely Mountain around the time of the Battle of the Black Gates), and if they come looking for blood, things are going to get hairy.

- We have Legolas, who is tied with Boromir for being the biggest jock - except instead of fighting skirmishes against groups of orcs, he’s been fighting spiders the size of a car since he was probably fifty. Going by the movies he’s an acrobat with flair and a sharpshooter hard to match; going by the books he’s keen-eyed and ready to throw down. The only Fellowship member with a higher kill count than him is Gimli, unless they’re tied, and he’s also the first Elf in centuries willing to have a civil conversation with a dwarf. Add on the fact that his entire royal line came entirely out of left field the last time Sauron tried to muster an army and changed its course, and you’ve got an unpredictable ball of arrows and backflips with blonde hair. Life is what he loves, and let none fail to understand that fact.

- We have Boromir, who is almost the least able member of the Fellowship for accomplishments, as far as the Big People go, but even he (least gifted member of his family, in terms of strange abilities) was enough of a strategic thinker to manage the Gondorian army and retake Osgiliath while his father was in the process of declining. Considering what his brother and Dad can do with powers he doesn’t even have, and considering what it took to kill him, and considering why he *threw his life away in the first place* (love, it’s always love, and that it’s for a pair of helpless non-warriors doesn’t diminish it whatsoever, what more would his people do for their country and their world, what more is Sauron failing to account for), then what in Eru’s name can his brother do? (The answer is bringing down an Oliophant with arrows and stealth. He lost Osgiliath because of the Nazgul and a too-small force, nothing less)

- We have Gandalf, who has made enough of a nuisance of himself over the course of two thousand-odd years that he is hated by most of Middle Earth’s major players and done enough good in that period that none of them consider killing him a good idea without a significant amount of insanity. Operating on limited information, zero prep time, and once again love, he killed a Balrog; he stood up to a creature forged in the most horrific days of Melkor’s madness out of insanity and fire, one trained in a war that lasted long enough for kingdoms of men and elves and dwarves to rise and fall and neither buckled nor broke. He stood on among figures as feared as Gil-Galad, Glorifindel, and Beren, and then he came back stronger than ever before. Stronger than one who had spent centuries *seeking* strength, where Gandalf had only sough to help. Stronger indeed than any one of the Nazgul, given a moment to prepare.

-We have Merry, who is kind and concerned and very, very smart. He and Pippin don’t get enough credit in the movies, but in the books he was clever enough to figure out what Frodo was planning with his move from Bag End and decided (he’s brave too, and here love comes back) to come along. He is a son of the Thains, and will be a Thain himself in time; he is the newest branch of the roots of the Shire itself, which found that it is made of steel and stone and willpower twice - once against a cold bad enough to see a summer turned to winter, and once against the spite of a fallen angel. He is willing, without thought, to come to the aid of his friends; his honor is no less than Dwarves and Elves and Men. And should you tell him no? He will come all the same, as Theoden learned to his benefit.

-You have Pippin, who is oh so very young - indeed, the youngest member overall! Not even forty! And who came along knowing nothing about what he was walking into, besides that his friends needed aid. So very very far from home, he did not shine against the greatest darkness things beyond men can muster; he shone against *fear*, and *indifference*. First when Treebeard thought that he was beyond the wars of men, where he showed him that some things are worth fighting for, and then again when Denathor found himself so thoroughly insane with fear that he thought death better than that old, familiar Human need to stand up against that which comes to consume and say, ‘no’. Pippin said no, and he said it in defiance of a leader all the others cowered before.

-We have Frodo, who is the wild card. First the bearer of the ring the very first time it is given up willingly - which is the last thing that was ever supposed to be possible when it was held. Then, again, when every great, strong, powerful being gathered to see it destroyed cried that none of the others were worth or strong enough, Frodo said oh so quietly - “I will take the ring - though I do not know the way.” We call Sam brave, and oh he is, but Frodo took a leap of faith that proved Sauron’s undoing. How could a being who claimed such mastery of greed understand self-sacrifice? One again, Love comes forth.

- And we have Sam. Always, the Hobbits are considered less than the others. Less interesting, less brave, less strong; and among Hobbits, Sam defined that role. He was the lowly gardner, tagging along out of duty and, as always, love. Love first. Love most. But duty as well, because he made a promise - “Don’t let him out of your sight, Samwise Gamgee.” And he doesn’t intend to. Sam, who defined the forgettable, kind, somewhat simple nature of Hobbits and, therefore, the incredible, depthless strength they hide. Stone lies beneath soft, tilled earth, and the softer the earth the harder the work to get it there; so Sam was always stone beneath it all. He could not carry a burden for Frodo, but he could carry Frodo himself, and even when all hope for their survival was lost he reached out for Frodo’s bleeding, mutilated hand and told him - Don’t you let go. He did not let go.

So yeah. Sauron would have been afraid, had he ever truly looked.

[elerondo]

Character Aesthetic

Aries:

Bonfires, competitiveness, hand veins, loud laughs, messy hair, sneaking out at 2am,   abandoned beaches, stray dogs, candle lights, body language, creaking floorboards, ouija boards, having no regrets, karaoke nights out.

Taurus:

House plants, oversized sweaters, soft hands, fuzzy socks, visiting big cities, snoozing your alarm clock, the color yellow, vanilla-scented candles, aloe vera, fruit smoothies, baking cookies, the mom friend, loves the ukulele.

Gemini:

Femme fatale movies, in love with female villains, sharp eyeliner, quick-witted, does things out of spite, do no harm but take no shit, in love with dogs, probably cries during sad movies but won’t admit it, easily excited, ripped jeans.

Cancer:

Mermaids, easily infatuated by love, smelling flowers, picnics in open fields, gets sad when thinking about the past, impressed easily, daydreaming in class, plucking fresh fruit, loves fashion, would die for their friends. ‘who says i’m going to die?’

Leo:

Confident in what they do, kill them with kindness, high ponytails, probably wants to visit Paris once, not afraid to tell the truth, in love with cute animals, the one to lift others up, good at teamwork, the warm feeling of summer, D R A G O N S !!

Virgo:

Pastel markers, the smell of lavender, has a welcoming vibe around them, actually organized, scrunchies, neat notes, loves going to museums, probably into photography ( Elrond likes posing, I suppose ), neutral colors, handwritten letters, stardust.

Libra:

Soft blankets, cuddling the one(s) you love, always standing up for your friends, hopeless romantic, can be very distant, can be a little dramatic, pretty hair, dresses nicely, tries to be popular on social media, optimistic, humorous.

Scorpio:

Cottages in the woods, in love with Greek mythology, vintage t-shirts, really emotional but doesn’t want anyone to know, determined, moonlight, pretty handwriting, into the retro aesthetic, rainy days, doesn’t judge people, cats.

Sagittarius:

Always ready for an adventure, street smart, wants to travel the world someday, doesn’t easily trust people, alcohol, paintbrushes, can’t sit still, untied shoelaces, tangled up earphones, blasting music at midnight, eye-gazing.

Capricorn:

Cold aura, coffee is what keeps them going, probably hasn’t slept in two days, actually a big softie, high-waisted jeans, cute pet videos, small apartments, has too many notebooks, often goes to the library, writing essays.

Aquarius:

Loves to paint & do any kind of art, wants to live at the seaside, knows a lot of random facts, shares food, messy notes, bullshits an entire essay, graffiti, has their own distinct style, wants to live their life like they want to.

Pisces:

Old teddy bears, unsent love letters, mom-jeans, loves to sing, feels at home by the ocean, writes poetry, hard-workers, always up for deep conversations, probably did the stupid thing, open curtains, a soft breeze.

Tagged by: I took it off @warringpeace​ because it looked like fun :3 Tagging: whoever wants to do this thing :D

[gnatie-gnat]

Baby mine | Ch 1 |

A hobbit fanfic

Thorin x oc

Warning: angst, child birth, death of a character.

Songs: baby mine — Celtic women

The strength to light your way — George kallis

A/n: probably going to have like a five ch. of just the back story of the oc cause I’m CRAZY but um enjoy.

It was the beginning of winter at the dunédain kingdom of hälo. Where the princess was born she had beautiful brown hair, skin as white as snow and eyes as dark as the night sky, her name was Isabelle. But the dunédain kingdom did not accept the queen for she was an elf but the king did not care he loved her to much.

One night when Isabelle was crying her mother began to sing to her.

“baby mine, don't you cry.

Baby mine, dry your eyes.

Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine.”

She picked Isabelle up and started to rock her in her arms.

“little one, when you play, don't you mind what they say.

Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine.”

“if they knew sweet little you, they'd end up loving you, too. All those same people who scold you, what they'd give just for the right to hold you.”

Isabelle began to calm down and slowly fall asleep.

“From your hair down to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows.

But, you're so precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine.”

Isabelle went to sleep in her bed.

She grew into a strong, beautiful, and kind young girl but she did not have as much elf features as her mother did she mostly looked like a human, she didn’t have the ears that a normal elf would have and she wasn’t as tall as her mother was but she was immortal like an elf and she had the choice to be mortal or immortal.

One summers eve when Isabelle was only eight years old. her mother began to teach her something that only her and her mother were aloud to know. Her mother said it was magic, elf magic. her mother taught her most of the things she knew.

“Here darling, I want to give you this” her mother told her.

“ but mother, this is your necklace I can’t take it” Isabelle answered.

Isabelle knew the elvish Tongue at the age of five, her mother gave her the necklace that looked like a crystal ( something like this

Not of my own)

every time Isabelle or her mother used its magic, it would glow which always made Isabelle think that it was something other then a crystale. But when it did glow, ice, or snow would appear from their hands.

But whenever Isabelle wasn’t with her mother she was with her father training how to fight against any enemies that trespassed through their kingdom.

She mostly enjoyed shooting arrows at the targets, but her father liked teaching her how to wield a sword.

Sense Isabelle had already known how to ride a horse that wasn’t a problem when it came to shooting arrows while riding her horse Lucifer (I know that name may seem strange for a horse but if you saw what her horse looked like then you would understand

A year after her mother gave her that necklace she became more skilled in combat then her father ever was and she also became more skilled with elf magic then her mother was.

Though she could only use that magic when she was wearing the necklace Isabelle never took the necklace off no matter what.

One night her mother and father asked Isabelle to come visit them in their room only to find out that her mother was expecting a child.

Oh how excited Isabelle was, that it felt like those nine months went so fast that by the time Isabelle turned ten years old her mother was in the baby room ready to have the baby, they were just waiting for one person.

Lord Elrond that’s right he was the healer after all and a good friend of her mother and father he did help birth Isabelle so she has known him her whole life and that’s when there was a knock at the door of the baby room.

Elrond came running in with nurses with him and Isabelle was quickly sent out of the room. About a day had past before Isabelle could see her mother that is only because her mother had lost a lot of blood during the child birth.

When belle walked in, her mother and father were sitting together on the bed with the baby, so belle walked over and looked at the baby it was wrapped up in a pink blanket which told belle that she was a girl which excited her very much because her and her mother had the perfect name if it was a girl Elizabeth or for short lizzy.

“ belle this is Elizabeth ” her mother said. Belle was the name her mother always called her it meant beauty in some language.

“ she’s beautiful mother” belle said, lizzy looked just like mother, her ears, her green eyes, everything and belle loved it.

For the rest of the day belle had a smile on her face but always made sure to visit her mother and sister.

That night before she went to sleep, she went to check on her mother one last Time only to find that her mother was rocking her younger sister in her arms trying to calm her down from crying “belle dear, why don’t you come here and sing a song with me to put Elizabeth to sleep” her mother asked.

“Like what mother” belle asked

“ how about strength to light your way” she answered “ oh I remember that one “ belle said

the song her mother would always sing to Isabelle when she was scared. And so they began to sing together.

“hush now, don't be scared.

Through this tide of darkness.

Shadows may march, thunders may roar.

But peace, will soon, prevail”

They didn’t get to finish the song do to the fact that lizzy fell asleep so quickly. Isabelle kissed her mothers head "good night ma" she told her and then kissed lizzy’s head "good night lizzy" belle said to her “ oh belle, one more thing” Her mother said to her “ yes mother “ belle asked “can you put lizzy back into her crib please, I’m feeling a little tired” her mother asked.

“Of course mother” belle said, then she grabbed lizzy and brought her to her bed and gently set her in the bed by the time she turned around her mother was already falling asleep, so she walked over to her and gave her one more kiss on the head “good night mother” “good bye belle” she said and belle left to her bedroom to sleep.

The next morning Isabelle had slept in, when she made her bed and got dressed she went straight towards her mothers room.

Her mothers room was across the throne room.

When Isabelle walked in to the throne room she saw her father, two elves , both of them she knew, lindir and lord Elrond and some nurses carrying her mother out, they did not see Isabelle though she was right behind them, they seemed to be mourning.

"Pa?" Isabelle said, tears already filling her eyes everyone turning to see her but the nurses didn't look at her, her father stared at her she could see that her father was crying.

"What’s going on” she asked her voice cracking, a tear falling down her cheek. The elves on the other hand couldn't even look at her, sorry for what has happened.

"Pa?"she asked again, her father could not respond for he could not find the right words to say to his daughter, he just looked at her. That told her everything.

"No.......no! No no no no" she said walking towards her mothers corpse, but her father stopped her.

"Isabelle.......please" he said trying so hard not to cry. She buried her head into her fathers chest as she cried.

Lord Elrond came over to take her away As she walked with him into the dining room, as he sat her down at the table he said “ I’m sorry this has happened “ Elrond said, there was a moment of silence before she responded "how did it happen" Isabelle asked she was so serious about that question that lord Elrond had to think about how he should tell her.

"When I checked your mother she had already passed" he said "there was no saving her.....I am sorry".

Before Isabelle could say anything her father came in “ I will leave you two alone to talk” Elrond said and walked out of the room.

“ belle..” “ stop I don’t want to talk” belle said, crying and running away into her room.

A few hours passed before belle realized that her and her mother never got to finish the song and so Isabelle began to sing it.

“Through our land this sacred land, night must spread confusion but stand your ground until you’ve found the strength to light your way”

Some how I some way that made Isabelle feel so much better.

Tags for series:

@jotink78 @sdavid09

I hope you like it

[that-rogue-valar]

Whispers in the Dead of Night

Part One

Summary: Laeriel, being the daughter of Thranduil, is expected to take part in an arranged marriage. Much to her father’s dismay, Laeriel’s heart belongs to certain elf living in Imladris. 

Pairings: Lindir x Laeriel [Lay-REE-ell] (OC), Bard x Laeriel 

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

All I could remember was having my fists clenched at my sides as my father told me his plans for me. Plans I had absolutely no say in whatsoever. I was to be married off to Bard, the king of Dale. 

“Ada, you...you can’t do this,” my voice quivered. “You cannot do this to me.” 

My father waved his hand, dismissing my pleads. “Laeriel, you do not understand.” 

I shook my head and bit my lip until the metallic taste of the crimson, life-sustaining liquid leaked onto my tongue. Hot tears ran down my pale cheeks. “Why can’t Tauriel marry Kili? Why do I have to be the one to suffer just because you want to seal the alliance with Dale?” 

“Think of the kingdom and not of yourself,” my father said, taking his seat on his throne. “It is selfish.” 

“It is selfish that you think that I am just some alliance seal! That I’m just something you can give away to protect your precious things.” I snapped. 

The look on his face was something between anger, sadness and hope. “You will marry Bard.” 

“Do you not understand, Ada? I don’t love Bard and I will not marry someone I don’t love.”

                                                           * * * 

After my argument with my father, I locked myself in my chambers and stared blankly at the wall, trying to process what was going on. A knock on the door snapped me out of my daze. I sighed and urged myself to open the door. 

I twisted the doorknob and swung the door open to reveal my older brother. “Legolas.” I sighed. 

Almost immediately, I wrapped my arms around his torso and cried into his chest. “Ada sent me. He told me to tell you to gather your things.” 

“Why?” I asked, my words muffled by his tunic. 

He exhaled deeply and gave me a gentle squeeze. “You are to go to Dale tomorrow,” Legolas explained. “You’re supposed to marry Bard.” 

I shook my head. “I do not have to,” I whispered. “Like you said before, brother, he may be my king, but he does not command my heart.” 

He nodded his head and pulled away from me. Legolas stepped further into my chambers and folded his arms over his chest. “Are you still in contact with Lord Elrond’s assistant?” He asked bluntly.

I shrugged and smiled to myself. “He has a name, Legolas.” 

Legolas started taking my books off my shelves and sat them on top of my desk. He turned on his heels and exited my chambers before coming back with five wooden crates. “So you are still in contact with him.” 

“Occasionally. He has his duties and I have mine,” I said, slowly taking some of my dresses and my summer cloak out of my wardrobe. “We understand that we cannot always write to each other.” 

Legolas picked up the books from my desk and placed them in one of the wooden crates. I looked up at Legolas and frowned. “Ada won’t really do this, will he?” I asked. 

“He said you’re to be married tomorrow,” Legolas said. “That’s why he told me to have you gather your things.” 

                                                        * * * 

The trip to Dale wasn’t horrid, but it wasn’t fantastic either. I knew what was in store for me when we arrived. I didn’t fight it because I knew it was going to happen even if I did. 

Once we arrived, I was immediately taken to Bard’s home. I stood in front of him anxiously between my father and my brother. Bard flashed me a grin before standing up and taking several steps before he was in front of me. He took my hand in his and pressed his lips to my knuckles. 

“Good morning,” Bard said with a smile. “And how are you, my dear?”

“Utterly dreadful,” I said, retracting my hand to my side. “But you seem ecstatic.” 

He shrugged and leaned forward, planting a rather disgusted kiss on my pale cheek. I managed a fake smile before I was taken by a couple of the female servants to an empty bedroom. 

“Oh, Princess Laeriel! You will make a gorgeous queen!” One of them squealed, taking out a fluffy, white dress out of the large wardrobe. When fully revealed from the wardrobe, the sleeves were long and accompanied by strips of fabric hanging off the shoulder. A red, fabric belt was tied around the waist, elegantly accompanied by the lace on the skirt. 

“Thank you, but I--” 

“Ah, Laeriel!” My father’s voice echoed in the room. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. 

“Ada.” 

He stepped over to me, placing his hand on my cheek. “I just want you to know, my iell, that I am doing this for your own good.” He spoke softly, his blue orbs boring into my own. 

“If you were doing this for my own good I would not be here right now.” I snorted as the servant girls rushed around to gather their supplies. 

My father pressed a kiss on my forehead before pulling me into a warm embrace. “Please, Laeriel. Do it for our people.” 

I slowly nodded my head, coming to the realization that I couldn’t prevent it from happening. 

                                                            * * * 

The Great Hall was decorated with roses and silver banners that stretched across the rather long walls. Elves, humans and dwarves stood as they eagerly awaited my arrival. 

Ada squeezed my arm gently, giving me a kind smile before he practically dragged me down the aisle. Bard stood at the altar with a grin plastered on his face. 

My father released me from his grip and smiled approvingly as I stepped up beside Bard. I glanced at the many faces in the crowd, some familiar and others were not. 

I caught the looks of the ever so mischevious Durin brothers, Fili and Kili and their mother and uncle. They dipped their heads in respect with slight grins on their faces. 

A choking sound from the right side caught my attention. I met sad, brown eyes before I felt a choking sound coming from my own throat. Lindir removed his gaze from me and looked at his hands quickly.

I drowned out the sound of the priest before my name was being called. “Laeriel, do you take Bard to be your--” 

“No,” I breathed out. “I am sorry. I can’t.” 

I lifted my skirt up over my knees so I get away as quickly as possible. My feet carried me swiftly out of the Great Hall. Footsteps echoed behind me, but I paid no attention to who they belonged to. 

A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, stopping me dead in my tracks. I squealed, my arms and legs flying everywhere to get away. “Relax, my love. It’s me.” A soft voice cooed. I relaxed, immediately knowing who it was.

“Take me with you, Lindir. Please.” I turned around and buried my head in his chest. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, dragging his slender fingers through my honey-colored hair. 

“Calm yourself, Laeriel,” Lindir pulled away from me, his brown eyes searching mine. “I have you.” 

My father came storming out of the Great Hall, Legolas and Bard trailing quickly behind. Lindir’s grip on me tightened as they approached us.

“What was that?!” Ada boomed, his nostrils flaring as his blood boiled in anger. “Is it because of him?!” Ada raised his finger and pointed at Lindir behind me. 

I shook my head. “No, and I will not marry Bard.”

Bard looked hurt, his hazel-colored eyes full of hurt. I sighed and pulled away from Lindir. “Bard, it is not because I don’t like you. I don’t want to hurt you because I won’t love you the same way.” 

I raised my hand up to place it on his scruffy cheek. “I understand,” he whispered, leaning into my touch. “I fully understand.” 

He gave me a forced smile before sighing. Bard’s hand reached up and grabbed my wrist, taking my touch away. I nodded my head and stepped away. Lindir slowly pulled me back into his embrace before eyeing my father. 

“Why can’t an alliance be formed between Eryn Galen and Imladris, King Thranduil?” Lindir asked. Ada’s eyes lit up immediately.

“I will discuss it later,” Ada said. “In the meantime, get out of my sight.” 

Lindir put his hand between my shoulder blades as we walked away from the Great Hall. “Thank you,” I muttered, looking up into his glittering, dark eyes. “Thank you so much, Lindir.” 

He nodded his head, a gentle grin stretching across his features. “Sevog i veleth nîn, meleth nîn.” Lindir said. 

                                                      * * * 

Lindir and I sat beside each other on my bed back home. I laid my head on his shoulder as he read one of my favorite poems to me. He closed the book and turned to me. 

“Come to Imladris with me, meleth nîn,” Lindir said, his eyes wide with excitement. “We can marry there. Laeriel, we can be happy.” 

“Caro, Lindir!” I nodded my head fiercely as he picked me up off my bed. “Take me with you, please.” 

Translations: 

Sevog i veleth nîn, meleth nîn - You have my love

Meleth nîn - My love 

Caro - Do it or make it so