#lord celeborn x reader

[earthlybeam]

im exposing myself a bit but whatever I want to know how elves react to this happening to them by their lover! 🤪 UMM. characters Elrond, thranduil, Gil-galad, celeborn….i wish for all characters but don’t want to give you too much work!

So reader Just saying goodbye with hug or something where reader ended up hugging each other but reader and catch their scent within the hug, as them moves to break the hug as can’t stay hugging forever (I wish) reader bring your head back to neck and smelling their scent again more than once sniffing more harder like melting like omg you smell so good! What’s elves reaction to this?

also thank you very much for taking your time to make this, have good day or night 🧡🧡🧡

Omg yess love this idea!! And honestly, I’m enjoying writing this so much haha 🤣 So I will definitely be writing a Glorfindel, Haldir, Lindir, Círdan, and Celebrimbor version next! I can just imagine how each elf would react—Ugh, elves just smell too good, what else is one supposed to do?! Thank you for sharing this idea, and I hope you have a wonderful day or night too! ❤️‍🔥🫶✨

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond, Celeborn versions below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The sun had begun its slow descent over Lindon, casting the land in warm hues of amber and deep gold. The sea breeze carried the soft scent of salt and pine, but as you stepped into the courtyard where Gil-galad stood, it was not the evening air that captured your attention—it was him. He had just finished his duties for the day, the weight of kingship still lingering in the way he carried himself. The regal composure, the quiet authority—yet when he saw you, some of that tension eased. A small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he opened his arms.

You wasted no time, stepping into his embrace, pressing yourself against the steady warmth of his chest. His arms wrapped around you, firm yet unhurried, as if anchoring himself in the moment. The faint scent of metal and parchment clung to him from a day spent in counsel, but beneath it was something unmistakably him—cool night air, aged cedarwood, and the faintest hint of something warm, something that made your stomach flutter.

The scent was intoxicating. As he began to pull away, you found yourself lingering. Your arms remained looped around him, and instead of letting the hug end, you buried your face into the curve of his neck, inhaling deeply. Then, just as he shifted slightly in question, you inhaled again—this time more deliberately. A second, deeper sniff.

And then another. Gil-galad went utterly still. “…My love,” he murmured, his voice edged with both curiosity and amusement, “what exactly are you doing?” But you couldn’t answer yet. Not when the scent of him wrapped around you like the coziest, most luxurious thing you’d ever known. Your breath came out in a pleased hum, and, without thinking, you nuzzled just a bit closer, taking one final, slow inhale.

Gil-galad exhaled through his nose, his grip on you tightening subtly. You could feel the slight rumble of a restrained chuckle vibrating in his chest. “So,” he said at last, voice smooth yet touched with unmistakable mirth, “this is what greets me after a long day of ruling? My beloved, utterly helpless against the way I smell?” You gave an unapologetic sigh, finally leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. “You smell so good,” you admitted without shame, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

His brows lifted slightly, his deep blue eyes gleaming with restrained laughter. “Good enough to forget proper decorum entirely, it seems.” You grinned. “You’re my king, yes, but you’re also my Gil-galad. That means I reserve the right to sniff you whenever I please.”

He tilted his head, a soft hum escaping him. “A bold declaration.” Then, after a brief pause, his expression softened into something even more unreadable—something fonder, quieter. His hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly along the curve of your cheek before he leaned in, pressing the barest kiss to your forehead.

“If my scent brings you such joy,” he murmured, dangerously close now, “perhaps I should make a habit of holding you longer.” Your breath hitched. Gil-galad smirked—just slightly—as if he knew exactly what effect he had on you. And then, to your utter delight, he pulled you back into his arms, this time lingering on his own accord. And you? You took full advantage of the opportunity to inhale to your heart’s content.

A pause. Then, with unmistakable teasing “Shall I bottle it for you?” You swatted lightly at his chest, but it only made him laugh again, his voice warm as the twilight. “Very well,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Take all the time you need, meleth nin.” And so he stood there, patient and unbothered, allowing you to remain wrapped in his scent, in his warmth, in him—for as long as you wished.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The halls of the Woodland Realm were ever bathed in twilight, the golden glow of lanterns casting soft pools of light against smooth stone. The scent of moss, aged oak, and distant rain curled through the corridors, but none of it—none of it—held a candle to him. Thranduil moved through the halls like a shadow of silver and deep green, his robes whispering with each step, the weight of his presence unquestionable. He was a king, a ruler of untold centuries, with matters far more pressing than lingering in corridors—but when he crossed paths with you, that ever-so-slight shift in his gaze, that flicker of acknowledgment, was enough to make your heart stumble.

A greeting was expected. A simple exchange before he continued on his way. But instead, he surprised you—just slightly—by pausing, allowing your fingers to brush his arm before you both leaned in for a fleeting embrace. A rare gesture, fleeting—until you caught his scent. Oh. Oh no. The scent of him was nothing short of divine. A deep, rich blend of aged cedar, cool river lilies, and something elusive—something uniquely, intoxicatingly Thranduil. It struck you like a gust of autumn wind, wrapping around you, curling into your lungs like a siren’s call. He moved—elegantly, effortlessly—to break away.

But your body? Your foolish, lovestruck body had other plans. Before he could fully retreat, your hands tightened ever so slightly against his back. You tilted your head, pressing your face into the curve of his neck, and inhaled. Deeply. A slow, deliberate draw of air, savoring the way he smelled—like the wild heart of the forest itself.

Thranduil stilled. You barely noticed. You were too lost in the scent of him, the way it made you melt. So, naturally, you did what any reasonable person would do—you sniffed again. Harder. And then again. And—oh, Valar help you—again. A low breath escaped him—not quite a sigh, not quite a scoff. His hands, once poised to leave you behind, now hovered at your waist in bemused hesitation. Slowly, ever so slowly, his head inclined just enough to glance down at you, eyes sharp with unreadable scrutiny.

“Meleth…What,” he said, his voice smooth as darkened glass, “exactly… do you think you are doing, meleth?” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. How could you, when you were currently melting into his scent, your brain too busy dissolving into a puddle of sheer bliss? Instead, you gave one more shameless inhale, your grip slackening as if he might as well carry you off because you were done for.

A pause. Then—a chuckle. Low. Soft. Entirely too amused. Thranduil let his hands settle fully against your waist, fingers ghosting over your sides as if contemplating whether you were utterly ridiculous or simply his problem now. “You are insufferable,” he murmured, but there was a thread of something dangerously close to fondness beneath his words. Then, as if to prove a point—to remind you who, exactly, you were indulging in—he turned the tables.

Before you could react, his lips barely brushed your temple, and in the same motion, he inhaled. Slow. Deliberate. A mirrored indulgence. Your breath hitched. Oh. Oh no. Thranduil hummed, a smirk flickering at the edges of his mouth. His hand lingered at the small of your back, just enough to remind you that you were well and truly at his mercy now.

“If you wished to drown in my presence, meleth nîn,” he mused, far too pleased with himself, “you needed only ask.” The boldness of it sent warmth rushing to your cheeks, and you huffed, tilting your head just enough to glare at him. “You act as if you are not enjoying this just as much,” you shot back, refusing to let him have the last word. A brow lifted—a silent challenge. “Do I?”

You narrowed your eyes, lips pressing together as you contemplated your next move. And then, with all the defiance in your heart, you sniffed him again. Hard. Thranduil let out a slow breath through his nose, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You are impossible,” he murmured, but his hands hadn’t moved from your waist. If anything, they lingered, as if betraying his own indulgence in your presence as you giggling.

“And yet,” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss to the cool metal of his collar, “here you are, suffering me still.” A silence stretched between you, thick with something neither of you dared name. Finally, Thranduil exhaled a sigh, tipping his forehead against yours for the briefest of moments before he murmured, “Go, before I decide to keep you here all evening.” You smirked. “Perhaps I wish to be kept.” His fingers curled against your sides—just once, just enough for you to feel the unspoken promise in his touch. “Do not tempt me, meleth nîn.” And with that—he left you there. Warm, flustered, and utterly wrecked.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Elrond had just finished his duties for the day, the weight of governance and counsel finally lifting from his shoulders as he stepped into the quiet sanctuary of his chambers. The evening air carried the faint scent of Rivendell’s gardens—floral and crisp, mingling with the ever-present undertone of parchment and candle wax that lingered from his study. He had removed his outer robes, now dressed in a long, flowing tunic of deep blue, the fabric soft and well-worn with age. The flickering glow of candlelight cast golden hues across his sharp features, but as soon as he saw you, the tired lines at the corners of his eyes softened, his lips curving into something warm, something meant only for you.

You stepped forward, drawn by the quiet intimacy of the moment. Without hesitation, he welcomed you into his embrace, arms wrapping securely around you, his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon. His touch was steady, his breath even, as though he were anchoring himself to you after a long day of duty and thought.

But the moment your face pressed against the side of his neck, something shifted. His scent—deep, woodsy with hints of parchment and ancient ink, warmed by his own natural essence—was intoxicating. You felt yourself relax completely, melting into him, the scent making your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. It was grounding, familiar, and entirely him.

As he moved to part from the hug, you resisted. Your hands tightened slightly against his back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned in further, burying your face against the curve of his neck once more. You inhaled deeply, this time with intent, savoring the warm, rich scent of him. A soft, appreciative hum left your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you went in again—this time slower, deeper, taking him in like he was the rarest perfume in all of Middle-earth.

Elrond stilled. There was a moment of silence, and then you felt his chest rumble with a quiet chuckle. Amusement flickered in his voice as he spoke, low and smooth against the shell of your ear. “You linger, meleth nín,” he murmured, the barest hint of a smile threading through his tone. His hands traced a slow path up your back, his touch indulgent, as though he found your reaction both endearing and intriguing. “Has my scent bewitched you so?”

You didn’t answer immediately—too lost in the sheer comfort of his presence, too content to do anything but take one last lingering inhale before sighing against his skin. “I cannot help it,” you admitted, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “You smell so good.” His brows lifted slightly, his expression equal parts amused and pleased. His fingers drifted to your chin, tilting your face up so he could study you. The corner of his mouth twitched, eyes twinkling with something mischievous, something ancient and knowing.

“Then by all means,” he murmured, lowering his head so his lips ghosted over your temple, “breathe me in, meet. I am yours to linger upon.” He allowed you to stay nestled against him, his hand threading through your hair as you relaxed into him completely. There was no rush to move, no urgency—only the quiet understanding that in this moment, he was exactly where he wished to be.

Elrond let out the smallest hum, and though he did not move to stop you, there was something entirely knowing in his expression now, the way he tilted his head just enough to regard you with quiet interest. “though I do hope you do not plan to make a habit of ensnaring me so the moment I return from my duties.” His tone held all the dignity of a lord of the Eldar, but his hand at your lower back was holding you closer, betraying the fact that he did not entirely mind your little fascination with him. In fact… perhaps he found it rather endearing.

“…No promises,” you murmured, utterly unwilling to let go just yet. Elrond only sighed again, this time in soft acceptance, and let you continue your little indulgence—his hands smoothing slow circles against your back as you all but melted into him, your lips curving into a blissful smile against his throat.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

The soft glow of the fading sun filters through the golden leaves, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Celeborn holds you in a lingering embrace, his arms firm but gentle around your waist. The scent of the wood—earthy, fresh, with the faint floral whisper of Elven magic—lingers in the air, but beneath it all is him.

At first, it’s just instinct. A light inhale as you rest your head against his shoulder, taking in that uniquely Celeborn scent—clean rain, old parchment, and something deep and green, like the heart of the forest itself. It’s grounding, comforting. But then, as he begins to pull away, you realize oh no, that wasn’t enough.

Before he can step back completely, your hands tighten just slightly against the fine silver embroidery of his robes, and you tilt your head in, pressing your nose against the juncture of his neck and collarbone. A deeper inhale this time—gods, he smells even better up close. Celeborn stills immediately. You can feel the faintest hitch in his breath, a pause, a flicker of understanding at what you’re doing. His head tilts just slightly, his long, silver hair shifting against your cheek as he exhales in what can only be described as the softest, most bewildered chuckle.

“My love…,” he murmurs, his voice a warm, amused hush. His hands rest lightly against your back, as if unsure whether to let you continue or to pull away with bemused dignity. But you don’t stop. No, now you’re melting—your second inhale is even deeper, needier, like you’re trying to commit the scent of him to memory, or absorb it into your very soul.

Celeborn’s hand drifts up to your back, stroking absently as he huffs out another breath. “Are you sniffing me?” You make a small, completely undignified sound against his skin. “Mmm-hmm.” His fingers flex at your waist as he shifts, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that—oh, Valar—is that why you’ve trapped me here? So you may indulge in…” He pauses, his deep voice taking on a teasing weight. “More thorough investigation?”

You nod without shame, nose still buried against his skin. “You smell so good,” you murmur, voice practically dreamy, drunk on the sheer essence of him. Celeborn sighs, the long-suffering sigh of a dignified lord whose reputation as a wise and venerable Elf is currently being dismantled by the sheer ridiculousness of his lover burying their face in his neck like an affectionate cat. Still, he doesn’t pull away. “Must you?” he asks, voice carrying that particular tone—the one that suggests he already knows the answer but asks anyway, out of principle.

You nod against his shoulder. “Mhm.” Another deep inhale. His fingers tighten slightly at your back, and then, very deliberately, he leans back just enough to look at you—his silver eyes calm, patient, but glinting with something wry. “Are you done?” You shake your head. “Not yet.” His lips twitch. “Of course not.” Yet, despite all his sighing and supposed exasperation, he doesn’t pull away. No, he simply tightens his hold just a fraction, as if resigned to his fate. “If you must,” he says, voice low and indulgent, “then make it count, meleth-nîn.”

And with that, he tilts his head, ever so slightly, allowing you just a little more access—because, as much as he pretends to endure this with patience, his hand remains firm at the small of your back, keeping you close. (And if, later, Galadhrim sentries witness their Lord standing amidst the golden trees, being dramatically ensniffed by his lover, well… Celeborn will simply pretend he does not see their knowing glances.) 🤣

[sorcerousundries]

Lalala vs okokok with lotr and the hobbit

Your the lalala, they’re the okokok

Thorin, Fíli, Aragorn, thranduil, Elrond, Arwen, bilbo, gimli, Sam, Éomer, Glorfindel, Bard, Beorn, glóin, Tauriel, Faramir, Boromir, Haldir, Bifur, Dwalin, Balin, Dori, óin, Galadriel

They’re the lalala, your the okokok

Legolas, Frodo, merry, pippin, Éowyn, kíli, celeborn, also Arwen, Lindir, bombur, ori, nori, bofur, meludir

[kat651]

elves having sensitive ears (pt 2)

Celeborn:

he slumped into a seat and ran his fingers through his long white hair, pushing it out of his face as he let out a long sigh and looked down at the document in his hands, scanning the content.

Celeborn pushed his hair from his face again and it fell and he sighed, clearly he’d had a long day.

his hair continued to fall in his face, agitating him more and more. You chucked and walked over, pulling his hair out of his face before becoming mesmerized by the softness.

Celeborn glanced at you before looking back at the document. You smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear, causing him to drop the document and grab your wrists gently.

“y/n, the ears of and elf are far more sensitive than you could ever imagine…”

your face heated up. “I’m sorry!”

Celeborn gave you a soft smile. “I never said I didn’t like it…”

Haldir:

you came up behind him as he was sharpening his sword, this was the only time you could ever catch him off his guard.

you pulled the hair from his face and placed a kiss on his cheek.

you watched his lips go into an o shape before he fixed his composure. “I assume your prepared for war then?”

“war? Why are you always so seriou-” next thing you knew you where in his lap, his lips on yours and sword long forgotten.

“if anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down…” he mumbled as he fell onto his back in the soft grass, tour lips still on his.

your arms went around his neck, getting lost on his hair. Your lips left his and blazed a trail up his jaw until you reached his pointed ear, nipping at it playfully. he grabbed the back of your shirt in two fistfuls and let out a whine that he tried to suppress.

you knew instantly that you’d found his weak spot and planed on using it against him when needed.

pt one here

[master-muffinn]

You have a life too

It was a lovely July morning. You were with your boyfriend, hand in hand and walked through the green forest, which was filled with insects and flowers. You two finally had some free time and you chose to spend it together. Talking a little now and then about what the other had done to not miss out on anything important.

But then you see a bird and it flies up to you. You automatically hold out your hand for it to sit on. It has a letter for you. You let go of your boyfriend's hand and the bird flies away after you take the letter. 

Dear y/n. Meet me at ‘The Prancing Pony’ on Sunday evening at 7 o'clock.  From your dear friend, Gandalf.

You looked at the letter with disgust and irritation. You knew exactly what this is about. Gandalf had promised a stranger that you would come help them without talking to you about it first and expected you to come without questioning it.

You are smart, wise and a great fighter, but you had a really hard time to say ‘no’ when people ask you for help which back then perhaps was good because it’s the right thing to do, but now it starting to get out of hand and it felt like people took your help for granted. Like, you had a life too!

You looked at your boyfriend who already seemed to know what the letter was about. 

“Gandalf ‘again’?” he said and sighed when you nodded.

You looked back at the letter “I am really tired of Gandalf making promises without talking to me first”

“I know, me too”

You looked back at your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I really don’t want to go, but I don't know how to tell him! Can you help me come up with a good excuse to not go that Gandalf has no other choice but to accept?!”

He thought for a while, looking around his surroundings like it could maybe help him get any useful ideas. He then put his hand in his pocket and a shy smile came to his lips. He took a step closer to you and looked you straight in the eyes with a loving gaze. 

“I have been thinking about doing this for a while but never had a good opportunity, so maybe this is the best time to do it” 

You move your head to the side and raise an eyebrow not understanding what he meant.

He took out a small box from his pocket, went down with one knee and opened the box with a beautiful ring inside. “Do you want to marry me? We have been together for years now and I can't see myself with anyone else but you! You are like the other half of my heart that I can't live without. I would love nothing more than to have you by my side in the rest of our life!”

You just stood stupidly in shock with your mouth and eyes wide open, but you quickly collected yourself, dropped the letter and threw yourself over him with a big embrace. “I would love to!” You said.

Dear Gandalf. I have to decline your request. You have to ask someone else for help from now on. I will get married soon and I wish to spend all my time and life with my love. From your dear friend, Y/n.

^Bilbo (he knows what you going though lol), Thranduil, Haldir, Celeborn, Feren, Elrond, Thorin, Boromir, Aragorn, Theoden, Bard, Dwalin, Dain, Eomer, Saruman

[ragingbookdragon]

I Will Love You Until The End Of The Ages

Haldir of Lothlórien x Reader

Word Count: 4.4K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Yeah...this kinda got away from me but I love this fucking elf just as much as I love Lindir so, have him <3 -Thorne

**********************************************************************

An ache spread through her body as she sprinted through the forest, wide-eyed and terrified. She’d barely managed to escape the carnage of her guards being slaughtered, only to be spotted by a rogue orc who’d alerted the others of her escaping. It would not have taken a master to understand exactly what they were going to do to her if they caught her. The thought only pushed her forward as she continued to run, trying her best to hop over logs and bushes in her way.

She’d fallen more than a few times, tripped over hidden tree roots, her shoes fallen off somewhere, feet bleeding from stepping on sharp stones and branches. Her dress had torn from slipping between large rocks to give distance, caught on sharp rose thorns, her legs and arms were cut up beyond belief, fabric strew down her chest, shoulder exposed, but she forbid herself from stopping. The elves of Lothlórien couldn’t have been farther than another mile, but she wasn’t fit for battle, or such bodily exertions and it was taking its toll.

She was practically unable to breathe as she huffed and puffed with raggedness. She could make it. All she had to do was keep going and she’d be upon Lothlórien. They would help her, or at least kill the orcs. If they killed her too, so be it, but at least she wouldn’t die before being defiled. She could make it, she could make it, she could—

A gasp escaped her as her foot caught under a raised root and she hit the ground, elbow burying itself into her side as she hit the ground—hard. The air was knocked from her lungs, and she wheezed as she rolled onto her side, crawling on the ground, trying to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate with her. She could hear them getting closer, their war cries only sealing her fate.

Tears flooded her eyes and as her lungs began to take in air, she hoarsely cried, “He—lp!” she pulled herself towards a tree. “Help!”

She turned, seeing the orcs come upon her and gathered in a half circle, snarling and salivating; tears streamed down her cheeks and though it made no difference she begged, “Mercy. Please, mercy.”

One of them reached for head and she recoiled, screaming bloody murder, her screeches startling the birds from the trees, then an arrow pierced the orc reaching for her and none had a moment to even react before a hail of them rained down. The orcs fell dead, gurgling on black blood and she twisted her head as she saw flashes of gray.

A group of elves appeared, and one knelt beside her. “Are you alright?”

She could barely see him through the tears in her eyes, but his blue eyes shown with a kindness; she reached forward, fumbling for the front of his armor and the second she connected with it, she burst into sobs and cradled herself against him. As if not used to such contact, he awkwardly patted her back before looking towards the elves of his guard and muttering something in his native tongue.

He continued to kneel with her until her sobs eased and she began to go slack against him; when he felt her go completely still, he pulled away slightly, catching sight of her unconscious expression. Pulling her a bit closer, he brought her into his arms and hefted her up with ease and turned his back on the carnage of the dead orcs before following the group deeper into the forest.

***

The air was clear, crisp, the scent of nature filling her lungs as she came to, the veil of night, stars, and the moon shining through the open arch of the window. She blinked, unsure of where she was but before she moved, someone said, “It would not be wise to move. Your wounds are still fresh.”

Startled, she twisted her head, seeing the same elf that had rescued her standing at the door. “Where…where am I?”

He shifted from the door and walked over, taking a seat beside her. “Lothlórien. My patrol heard commotion and your screams.” He gave her an awfully funny look, almost like she was an idiot—she did not like it in the slightest. “Why would you travel between Moria and Dol Goldur? All know it’s unsafe for travel for even the most experience of fighters.”

“The road we usually took had washed out from the rainstorm months ago. We had no choice.”

He cocked a brow. “Why are you travelling?”

She let out a sigh. “Gondor has called the lords of the land from their cities and towns. I am the only living heir to the lord of my land. It was my duty to go and represent my home.” He only made a noise in his throat, a low hum, and she looked at him. “What is your name, so I may thank you properly?”

“Haldir,” he answered. “I am Haldir of Lothlórien.”

“I owe you my life, Haldir of Lothlórien. Whatever you desire, if it is within my capabilities, please only speak it and I shall have it sent for immediately.”

“I find that difficult as your entire party is dead. There is no one to send away.” He immediately found his words too callous as her expression split into grief and she looked away. “I…I apologize. My words were uncalled for.”

“No,” she countered, shaking her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “They are dead, and it is all my fault.” She reached up, wiping her face. “Please forgive me for being so emotional.”

“You are in grieving,” Haldir replied. “There is no shame in expressing such emotion.” He gazed at her. “What is your name?”

She met his gaze, and he felt an awfully funny flutter at the sight of her saddened expression, dewy lashes, and full lips. “I am (Y/N) of Wintergrave. The city to the northwest, just above Emyn Uial and east of the Blue Mountains.”

Haldir tipped his head, bringing a hand to his chest. “I welcome you, Lady (Y/N).”

“Oh, thank you,” she replied, sitting up with a grimace to try and offer the same gesture, though she let out a gasp as something in her side felt like it was splitting.

He gently rose from his seat, pushing her shoulder back down to the bedding. “I have already told you, it is not wise to move. Your wounds are still very fresh.”

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I just wanted to extend the same kindness you have given me.”

“If you wish to, not harming yourself would be a good start.”

She cracked a smile and laid her head back onto the pillow. “Thank you, Haldir.”

He offered her a polite look. “I shall return with a healer. You should rest.”

“Yes, of course.”

***

Word had been sent back to Wintergrave of their Lady’s untimely run-in with the orcs, the bodies of her men had as well been prepared and sent back for burial. She’d met with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, expressing many apologies for imposing on them as such. The two elves had found it rather odd that a human who’d been saved and given sanctuary was so apologetic and felt like such a burden for it. Of course, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had given her more than enough relief and allowed her to stay as long as she needed to recover her strength. The Lady of Lothlórien had even met with her in her room and spoke of the horrors of the orcs and how nightmarish the mind could become after such an attack—she’d expressed to (Y/N) that she could stay until she felt fit to travel and when it was then time, Lady Galadriel would have a group of Marchwardens accompany her to Gondor. (Y/N) had cried and thanked her profusely for her kindness, also extending the same offer that she’d given to Haldir, if Lady Galadriel had ever needed anything all she had to do was speak it.

When she’d finally been able to move without pain from her wounds, which had been many—bruised and cut up feet, legs, and arms, even a rather severe cut along her cheek that was more than likely going to scar—she had taken to exploring what was allowed of Lothlórien that she could. Lady Galadriel had, instead of giving her a lady-in-waiting, assigned Haldir to watch over her, given leave to stay in Lothlórien for some time.

She was rather surprised to see him when she was sitting under one of the great arched platforms, sipping a flavored fruit tea that she only assumed grew in the land here. She had the teacup raised to her lips, watching the fireflies lighting up the night when someone appeared in her peripheral, scaring her half to death.

Jumping, she tried not to spill her tea as she set the cup down and looked up, seeing Haldir standing there, surprisingly with no armor like he usually wore. “Haldir,” she greeted with a smile. “You scared me half to death. Do you not know it is impolite to sneak up on someone, let alone a lady?”

“Apologies,” he said but he didn’t sound too apologetic. “Light feet are something not so easily forgotten when taught since birth.” He gestured to the seat across from her. “May I?”

“Oh, yes! Please!” she chirped, already pouring a cup of tea for him. “Lady Galadriel has been so kind to allow me to stay here in Lothlórien. But I fear I may be overstaying.”

“While it is odd for a human to stay for long periods of time, her ladyship isn’t one to force an innocent to leave.” He picked up his cup. “She has allowed you to stay until you feel ready for leave.”

“Yes,” she agreed, once more looking out. “I almost do not wish to leave Lothlórien though.”

“You do not?”

“Of course not. This place is ethereal. The people even more so.” She looked back at him. “I’ve always found elves so fascinating. Such long periods of life, so graceful and elegant, a beautiful culture and history.” A small, almost embarrassing smile came across her face. “Do not tell anyone I said this, but I’ve always tried to emulate such grace and elegance. To be wise and respectful like such.”

Haldir gazed at her for a long moment—he’d not met many humans who were so modest and ungreedy like (Y/N) was, it was almost refreshing to find such a human. “I’ve not met many humans like you,” he said before he thought about it and his cheeks warmed when she looked at him with surprise.

“Like me?”

He cleared his throat. “I meant, kind and respectful. Many humans are greedy and disrespectful. Loud…and abrasive.”

She frowned. “Yes, my fellow men can often be swayed by earthly desires instead of their honor.” She met his gaze. “I hope I have offered some amnesty on that part. Or perhaps a better view of what some of us can be.”

“You have,” he answered, sipping his tea before he said anything else more foolish.

(Y/N) inhaled and exhaled, as if the world was no longer on her shoulders. “Haldir, what would you be doing if you were not called to be a Marchwarden?”

He blinked in surprise—he’d never given much thought to it. “I…I confess I do not know. Being a Marchwarden is all I have ever known. Even my brothers are such.”

She perked up at that. “You have brothers!” her face split in joy. “Oh, what is it like? I was a lone child to my parents.”

Haldir suddenly went monotone as he replied, “Annoying. My brothers are…quite a handful even on the best days.” A laugh escaped her, and she covered her mouth to hide the giggles and Haldir found himself smiling along with her; when she had calmed, he asked, “What of you, Lady (Y/N)? If you were not the Lady of Wintergrave, what would you be doing?”

“I think…I think I would be a writer,” she answered. “I have always loved listening and telling stories. My mother used to tell me I spent more time with my nose in books than I did learning about how to govern my people.” She felt her cheeks warm, and she glanced at the reflection in her cup. “Stories…allowed me to immerse myself into the freedom I did not have a child.”

“You were not free?”

“I was lonely…and without many friends. Though my people look after one another, there is still a divide in the classes. My family wasn’t detached per say, but we weren’t in constant contact with the common people.” She seemed almost forlorn as she murmured, “My only friends were the heroes in the stories I read.” Almost as if her sadness wasn’t there, she smiled and admitted, “I used to imagine that the heroes were with me in daily life. I would talk to them in my mind and go through life with their council.”

Haldir smiled, but it was rather sad. “I’m sorry that you did not have a friend to call your own as a child, Lady (Y/N).”

Her eyes were kind as she nodded. “Thank you, Haldir.” Taking a leap of faith, she smiled at him. “Perhaps it is lucky that I can call you, a friend now.”

“Indeed.” He smiled back at her, and her heart fluttered at it.

***

“Mae.”

“Mae.”

“G’ovan.”

“G’ovan.”

“Nen.”

“Nen.”

“Good. Now together. Mae g’ovannen.”

“Mae go-oven.”

Haldir let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That wasn’t even close.”

“It was too!” (Y/N) retorted.

“How on earth did you turn g’ovannen to go-oven?” his expression pinched. “It doesn’t even make any sense.”

She scowled at him and retorted, “I asked you to teach me elvish, not begrudge me.”

“Well, I would teach you my tongue if yours could work properly enough to speak it.”

A huff escaped her. “You are most rude, Haldir. So mean to a kind lady.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and pointed. “You are anything but kind.”

“I take great offense to that.”

“As you should.”

She glared at him, and he her until their scowls gave way to humored smiles and they laughed, leaning on one another.

“Perhaps a break is in store for us,” Haldir suggested, and she nodded, rising from her seat.

“I think that is a splendid idea, lest we begin screaming at one another in our native tongues.”

Haldir held out his arm and she took it, letting him escort her to their usual tea spot. As they sat down, a few elves decorated the table with a teapot and two cups along with sweet cookies for them. “Ni ‘lassui En,” Haldir murmured with a nod, and she smiled at them, tipping her head.

“Thank you!”

As he poured their cups, she gazed at him, taking in the sight of the elf at peace. He was rather handsome. Long, beautiful blonde hair, strong nose and jaw, gorgeous blue eyes. She couldn’t deny an attraction to him, but that was just physical. Haldir was a good man. Loyal, honorable, kind, and fiercely protective of his home and those he loved.

“Is there something on my face?”

She blinked, cheeks warming, and she looked down. “No, my apologies for staring.”

“I am not offended,” he simply answered and turned the plate, offering the strawberry tart.

“How did you—”

“You always eat them first when they are offered.”

“I…” she smiled. “I wasn’t aware you were paying such attention.”

Haldir’s cheeks tinted crimson, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it is good to make notice of your surroundings and what others engage in.”

“Uh huh,” she answered cheekily, smiling through his attempt at a scowl; she sipped her tea, asking, “Have you heard word of the Fellowship lately?”

“They are traveling to Isengard.” He looked grim. “I have not heard such great news if I am entirely honest.”

Her expression turned solemn, and she reached forward, placing a hand on his. “Whatever happens, I know you will do what I right by honor, Haldir.”

He looked at her, gently turning his hand up to gently thumb at her wrist. “I confess, (Y/N), I have come to enjoy our time together. These last few months have been…the greatest joy I’ve come to know.”

“As have I, Haldir,” she replied softly. “I do believe at this point I have entirely overstayed my welcome, but I find that when I am making a mind to leave…you, come to my mind.”

“Truly?”

She swallowed thickly and admitted, “I confess to you, Haldir, I…” she let out a sigh and steeled her nerves. “I am withholding feelings for you. In fact, every time I see and speak to you, my feelings only nurture.” She suddenly felt so exposed and rose from her seat, walking to the rail, gazing out at the nighted forest. “I know it is unwise to feel this way for you. You, an immortal, and me, a mortal. It is doomed from start to finish.” Her expression turned dejected. “Still though, I cannot feel the desire to remove you from my heart. You have stolen it.”

She waited for rejection, for laughter, for disbelief. Anything, but when his hand came to her lower back and he took her chin in his other hand, turning her face to him, she was surprised to see a look of fondness on it.

“Haldir…?”

He tipped his head down, lips brushing hers as he whispered, “Lady (Y/N), might I bestow a kiss to you?”

“I…please,” she pleaded, shutting her eyes and he sealed their lips, her body turning to face him as she raised her arms, hands winding around his neck as his wound around her waist.

Haldir felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, in his pulse like he was in battle, but this was so much more adrenaline-pumping than a fight. He knew she needed air, he did too, but the feeling of her lips against his made his heart soar and only when she tipped her head down, panting against his jaw, did Haldir come to the realization that he was madly in love with the woman he rescued all those months ago.

“I,” she breathed deeply. “I hope I am not naïve in assuming that this means you also feel for me?”

He took her chin in his hand again, pressing his lips to her eyelids and then her lips, once, twice, thrice, and murmured, “I would march to Mordor itself it meant you would be waiting for me.”

She giggled girlishly and shifted in his grip. “Well, you certainly know how to make a woman smile.”

“The only woman who matters.”

“Haldir…many will judge us, your people and mine, let alone the other races.”

He nodded solemnly. “Then I will declare that my love for you is endless.”

She looked up at him. “You know I will die before you…yes?”

Again, he nodded, though this time it looked as if the air had been taken from him; he took a breath. “Even so, I will love you until the end of the age.”

(Y/N) smiled up at him. “I…I love you, Haldir.”

“Melin gin,” Haldir professed, though he seemed upset.

“You are downhearted.”

He nodded. “Lord Elrond has come. I am to lead an army to Helm’s Deep and assist the fight against the orcs.”

“No…”

“I must,” he said. “It is my duty.” She frowned, tried to turn her head away but he wouldn’t let her. “Él gûr,” he murmured. “You have loved me enough to meet me in this age, love me enough to know I will come back.”

“But what if you do not?”

Haldir gazed at her, thumbing her lip. “If I do not, I want you to do your duty. I want you to find love again and live the life with someone like we wanted to.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “But I want it with you.” She grasped at his tunic. “I want that life with you, Haldir.”

“Then I will do my duty and come back to you.” He searched her gaze. “Melin gin, (Y/N).”

She felt her lips wobble, but she promised in return, “Melin gin, Haldir.”

***

Word had reached Lothlórien that many of the elves sent had fallen in battle, yet no word had ever been spoken of Haldir. It had her one pins and needles, many times seeking council with Lady Galadriel who merely listened to her worries and commanded, or urged her, to keep heart, that evil could just as easily take over a heart in grief.

She somehow managed to steel herself and when the trumpets sounded, signaling the return of the soldiers, she rushed down with many of the healers, waiting to know if her love had returned or if he had perished. She watched as soldier after soldier, the ones that had survived, passed by, yet she never saw Haldir. Her heart ached in her chest, and she hurried into the thicket of soldiers being attended to.

“Please, someone tell me where Haldir is!” she pleaded. “Has he fallen! I must know!”

Many of the elves stared at her, brows pinched like they couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but one stood among the fray and caught her attention.

“Haldir cuina.”

She shook her head. “I don’t…? I don’t understand.”

The elf frowned, gesturing around like he was searching for the word before muttering, “Life.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and she grasped his arms. “Haldir is alive? He lives?” The elf nodded and she laughed tearfully, relief flooding her body as she knew her love was alive.

***

It was a rather beautiful ceremony, seeing Aragorn crowned king, Arwen, his beautiful bride beside him. She stood next to the other Lords and Ladies of Middle Earth, pledging their alliance to the king. And while the ceremony was one for the memories, the feast that had come after was one for the ages.

Laughter, joy, and happy tears escaped the members of the palace, the esteemed fellowship all at the front with Aragorn and Arwen. Even Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had shown up and she waved at them from her spot on the table, them giving knowing smiles in return. She still hadn’t seen Haldir, but no one, especially Legolas or Aragorn had yet to pull her aside and tell her otherwise, so she held out hope that they were simply missing each other at different turns in the same city.

Air called to her after many rounds of wine and ale and she was given permission to go to the ledge of the higher quarters, which she appreciated greatly, extending her thanks to the King and Queen.

(Y/N) stand at the balcony, watching the parading and partying in the street. Rebuilding would certainly come soon, but for now, the greatest evil known had been vanquished and the people would look forward to a future of happiness. She look to the heavens, closing her eyes as she said a quiet prayer to the elven Gods, that they would send Haldir to her.

As soon as she finished, she opened her eyes, and seeing something in her peripheral, spun, screeching like a bat at the scare. However, a hand slammed, carefully, against her mouth followed by, “Él gûr, be at peace. It is me!”

She blinked and gaped at Haldir, suddenly surging forward with ecstatic joy as she latched onto him. “Haldir!” she burst out.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “I have come home to you, (Y/N).” She pulled away, tears in her eyes and he sighed fondly at her. “You are such a crybaby.”

“I’ve waited so long for you, my love,” she confessed in tears, struggling to wipe the seemingly endless flood of them away. “So long I waited for you to come home. On the worst nights I feared someone would tell me they found your body and I would have to go on without you.”

Haldir frowned. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long, él gûr. It was never my intention.” He gently pushed some hair behind her ear. “The war was long, and traveling was difficult. But I have held my promise to come home.”

She tipped her head to the side. “You will still have me? And a life with me? Despite the hurt in our future?”

He inhaled deeply and murmured, “I have thought long about this, (Y/N). And of all I know, I know this the best—we are never promised happiness. If we find it, especially love, we must hold tight to it and never let go.” He gazed at her. “You will inevitably die before me. But I know that however many years we get with each other, we will love and hold fast to it.” Tears dripped down her cheeks and he leaned forward, kissing them away. “Do not cry, él gûr.”

“These are tears of happiness,” (Y/N) replied with a laugh, and looked at him, taking his hands in hers. “I promise by the light of this moon, that I will love and cherish you for all of the time I am given, Haldir of Lothlórien. May the love we have bloom for ages and never die.”

Haldir leaned down and nuzzled her nose. “And I promise to you, (Y/N) of Wintergrave, that so long as I live, even when you are gone, I will remember and hold dear to the love we nurtured.” He smiled at her. “And I will love and cherish our children and teach them always of their mother who loved them more than the world.”

“We aren’t even married yet!” she spluttered, and his smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you trying to tell me that you do not wish to have a family? Él gûr, I am hurt by this.”

“That is not what I said!”

“I am fairly certain it is.”

“It is not!”

The night in Gondor was warm, joy filled the streets, love filled the hearts of the people together, hobbits, dwarves, elves, and men had once again forged a bond deeper than blood. And they all looked to a brighter future the next day—and perhaps another wedding!

[imagine-in-tolkiens-world]

[the-fiction-witch]

You Don't Know What You're Asking For

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Y/n (Daughter of Galadriel and Celebron, Basically taking the place of Celebrían) Rating - 15 Word Count - 3118

Elrond even to this day found immortality rather strange and somewhat uncomfortable. He watched friends age and wither while he still lingers. He watched castles turn to dust. He watched the peace he helped create be abused by whichever opportunist sought power and pride. Twenty years seemed to pass in a blink of an eye and all things seemed to fade away. But there were small joys to in immorality, the soft joy of winters end and the gentle blooms of spring, as well as the visits few and far between of those he cared for,

Today was such an occasion, the lady Galadriel was visiting, with her husband Celeborn and daughters, from their usual home of LothLorien,

He smiled, feeling his features ease into a relaxed and welcoming smile before waving towards the small party,

First to emerge was lord Celeborn, who then took the hand of his wife Galadriel to aid her down from the horse,

"My lord, it has been too many of these long years," she greeted,

Elrond gave a light laugh, "It truely has been long, too many years" he replied, returning the greeting with a bow and taking her hands, "You look as radiant as ever my lady,"

She smiled the two sharing a moment in peace after such a long friendship,

"Last I saw this place it was a barely pile of rocks and mortar," lord Celeborn laughed, "you have crafted her into a place grander than Lindon I think,"

Elrond laughed, raising one of his hands in a dismissive gesture, clearly proud of the work the elves and men of Rivendell had done, but humble enough to not openly say this at the lavish praise of his home, "I simply provided the groundwork, a place for the great people of middle earth to call home, and it bloomed into this" he replied,

"A second home for many I'm sure" Galadriel smiled just as three girls approached,

Last elrond saw them the two eldest where barely maidens, and the third didn't exist. Now three stood before him.

"May I introduce, Themyscira our youngest" she explained and the little girl no higher then a hobbit bowed in her little blue gown,

Elrond chuckled at the introduction, lowering down to kneel in front of the young maid, smiling as she bowed to him, "It is a pleasure to meet you, little one" he said, his voice warm and soft, gentle and welcoming as he took her tiny fingers into his hand giving her hand a proper little kiss,

"And of course, you will recall Mellimina" Galadriel nodded,

The last time he saw the middle daughter she was a meer child no taller then his knee, she now stood almost to his shoulder with long blonde hair like her mother in a soft yellow gown,

"It is a pleasure, my lord," Melimina bowed,

Elrond nodded remembering her as a little girl, He was surprised by how fast she'd grown and how grown up, "No need for that, mellimina" he said warmly, waving a dismissive hand, "I am simply a friend, no need for titles and formalities" he smiled taking her hand to give it a polite kiss too,

"And I'm sure you shall recall Y/n," Galadriel smiled,

And for a moment elrond was speechless, Y/n, galadriel’s eldest daughter, last he saw her she was barely a maiden coming into her own, she stood now at his shoulder, a bodythat would be a Syren call for any man, wearing a lilac gown with embroidered stars, with hair pins of silver stars gracing her locks, a elvish gem necklace around her neck,

She looks up at him with eyes like gems as she bows without a word,

Elrond stared in awe, his heart beating a little faster as he looked upon the woman who stood before him. She was not the girl he remembered, she was grown now, grown and stunning. All the air seemed to flee his lungs as he gazed into those emerald eyes, her image in front of him like a vision that he would gladly lose himself in for an eternity. He stared for a few beats, unable to speak as he returned from the trance and gave her a nod, praying to the Valar that nobody had noticed his stare or the pink hue creeping across his cheeks, he swallowed, trying desperately to regain his composure and force the words from his lips "I remember you well my lady," he smiled taking her hand and giving it a slightly prolonged kiss,

"I to recall you my lord, I admit such memories I am reminded of fondly, I hope such years have blessed you with good health since last we met?" Y/n smiled, she spoke like a proper elven lady, much like her mother

a warm, genuine smile played across elronds lips as he nodded in response. She was as poised and as elegant as he remembered, but now there was also a maturity about her, a beauty that he'd never noticed before. He would get lost in the sound of her voice had it not been for her question, "Yes- yes I am well," he replied, his mind suddenly blank as he found it near impossible to think of anything to say when he stared into those eyes of hers, he took a quiet breath, gathering his thoughts and composure as he prepared to speak. He was a powerful elf Lord and commander, and yet now, in front of this beautiful maiden all he could think of was the way her gown shone in the sunlight, the way her lips moved when she smiled and the way her necklace sparkled against her neck, "And you my lady.. you are well?" he asked, silently cursing himself at how awkward he felt in this moment. He sounded like a flustered fool, stumbling over his words

"I have been blessed by such peace," she nodded

Luckily Galadriel and Celeborn requested to prepare their room, the younger girls did also but,

“If it is all the same I would adore a walk of the Rivendell Gardens,” Y/n smiled, “The foliage this time of year is so divine,”

“Yes, yes of course I’d be happy to take you.” he nodded

Galadriel, Celeborn and the girls excused themselves, Elrond praying silently they would keep a safe distance. He turned his attention back to Y/n, now alone in the courtyard.

Elrond exhaled a breath he had been holding, a soft sound of relief, his nerves slowly fading as he smiled warmly at her and offered his arm to lead her down to the gardens, he walked slowly beside her, silently trying to come up with something to say "You've grown so much.. you were just a small girl last I saw you" he laughed softly

she smiled as they walked, her hands wrapped around his arm in a very lady like way,

"Yes, the years have been long since last we are one another. I believe it was when you came to visit lothlorien before the birth of Themescara, I was but a child then,"

"Just a small child yes," he agreed quietly, his mind wandering back to the memory. He could still picture her, running through the gardens chasing butterflies, her little dress covered in a dusting of dirt, he chuckled as a thought crossed his mind, causing him to look at the woman beside him "You did cause quite a bit of mischief as a girl"

"I suppose it is the blessing of all children, to be graced with such chaos" She smiled,

He chuckled quietly, the image of her small form tearing through the gardens still clear in his mind "Yes.. though not all children have quite the same level of chaos. I believe you were one of the worst"

"I suppose I was, but isn't that the job of a first born?" She laughed

he laughed with her, shaking his head and looking down at the ground, "No, my sweetling, the job of the first born child is to be a good example, good role to their younger siblings, not to cause chaos" he teased gently, his voice soft and warm

she softly blushed "I know, I straightened up of course, for my sister's and for the people of lothlorien,"

he smiled down at her, seeing the blush that had risen to her soft cheeks. He felt a strange flutter in his stomach, butterflies that he had not felt before, as he looked at her face. He swallowed a lump in his throat, his thoughts racing as he desperately tried to find something to say, "Of course.. and look at you now, such a proper elvish lady" he teased gently

"I do my best" she smiled "… Father says he must take me to Lindon" she said rather sadly

he felt a pang in his heart as she spoke, a soft frown on his face. "To lindon… why?" he asked, his voice quiet and sad. The idea of losing sight of her again, being unable to see her or speak with her left a sour feeling in his chest.

"To formally present me to the elven court, and the high king." She nodded "as daughter of lady galadriel and lord celeborn, I am to be formally presented at court, so I may be wed to a high elven lord" she explained sadly

his heart clenched at the sound of the last part of her words, a cold feeling forming in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth. His mind filled with cruel images of her being courted by high elven lords, her gentle laugh heard in the halls when she smiled at some young commander, her arm linked with another mans. It filled him with a strange mixture of anger and sadness. he tried his hardest to keep the anger he felt from showing in his voice "So.. you will be wed"

"I must do what my father commands of me"

he felt the words like a stab to his heart, a deep sadness filling the place where the anger had been. He had held her as a child, watched her grown into woman and now, after all these long years he was so close to losing her again "You could refuse" he said suddenly, his grip on her arm tightening. He stopped and pulled her to a halt, forcing her to face him

"I do not wish to upset them" she said "I must do what is best for my people, must I not?"

"But it may not be best for you" he said, gripping her upper arms now, turning her body to face him. "Being wed to some commander, some high elven lord, forced to live far out in lindon, is that truly what you want?" he asked, his voice quiet and pleading

"… I want whatever will make my family happy, whatever makes my people happy, whatever brings peace and tranquility is all I desire. And if my happiness is what must be the price then … So be it"

he felt a lump form in his throat, the thought of her sacrificing her happiness for others breaking his heart. He found himself taking a step closer to her, still holding her arms firmly, his fingers gripping the soft material of her gown "You can't possibly believe that. You deserve more than that, you deserve to be happy too"

"… I gave up many happinesses in the years since you last saw me. I suppose that's part of maturity, learnt to then away from that which use to bring you such joy…"

he stared down at her, his heart wrenching in his chest at her words. Without thinking, he reached up and cupped her cheeks, his fingers on either side of her face

she gasped her lips parted,

He swallowed, looking down at her. He noticed every feature now, the way her lashes framed her eyes, the rosy pink colour of her lips, the way her hair framed the soft curves of her face "You cannot give up on yourself" he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion "you cannot just accept that you will be unhappy…"

"… If I did what I knew would make me happy, I would have been cast out years ago" she whispered "there is… So much in this world I… desire. But my own pleasure and joy is not the life of a lady… Even if I so wish it could be"

he felt her words like a physical blow, his chest aching under the weight of emotion. Every part of him longed to pull her close, to hold her against his chest and assure her he could give her whatever she desired, to kiss those soft pink lips till he had taken all the air from her lungs. But he held himself firmly in place, his hands gripping her cheeks gently "And what is it you desire my sweetling…"

Without a single word, she moved to her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, he lips soft and tender, she smelt of lavender flowers and tasted of strawberries, her hands settling on his chest as she pulled back enough to see his eyes

he froze in shock for a moment, unable to believe the soft feeling of her lips on his. For a moment, it seemed to him that the earth had stopped turning, that the world was no longer moving. The press of her lips against his own was like a jolt of electricity that shot through his body. It took an almost painful amount of effort on his part to prevent him from wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, crushing her body against his in an embrace, until she pulled back and he gazed down at her, his heart racing "that.. was what you wanted?"

"mhm," she nodded her fingers playing with his clothes a little,

he exhaled a shaky breath, his mind still swirling from the feeling of her lips on his own. The way she played with the material of his clothes sent a strange shiver down his spine, and it took a lot of effort to not press her back against the nearest tree and claim her for himself he gazed down at her, unable to look away from her beautiful face, her pretty pink lips "And what else do you desire, sweetling?"

she softly bit her bottom lip and pushed his arms to entrap her waist

he let her move his hands, the feeling of the soft material of her gown under his fingers like silk as he slid his hands down to her waist. He could feel her body under the fine material, every curve of her waist and hips, and it took all of his self control to not pull her body against his, "And what else?… Tell me, sweetling" he said again, his voice thick with desire and need

"hummm I think it's your turn to tell me something you desire, my lord."

he swallowed, his hands gripping the material of her gown, taking in the feeling of her body against his palms. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly that he ached from the want of her. He wanted to hold her, feel every curve of her body, to run his hands through her hair, taste her skin.. he wanted her so badly it was like a fire in his blood he took a quiet breath, trying to control himself "You.. I desire you"

she bit her lip a little harder, and she giggled a little as he pulled her against him, squeezing their bodies together, "as so I" she whispered against his lips

he swallowed a gasp as he pulled her close to him, the feeling of her body against his own sending a shiver down his spine. He could smell the scent of lavender and it filled his mind with thoughts, of tangled legs and the sound of her soft moans. He longed desperately to run his fingers across her skin, to find every sensitive spot on her body and claim it for himself, he lifted a hand to her chin, tilting her face so they were only inches apart "How am I to keep my hands to myself if you do that"

"I do not wish you to keep them to yourself" she softly giggled

a smirk slowly formed on his face as he heard her words, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her chin as he gazed down at her, "Oh sweetling" he whispered, his heart racing, desire and need filling his body like liquid fire "you don't know what you're asking for"

"I have had years to know what I am asking…" She whispered back

he exhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he tried to control himself. The feel of her body against his own was driving him insane, the sound of her voice in his ear sending his heart racing. He knew this should stop, that he should pull away from her before it was to late, before he could no longer control the fire in his blood. but her words, her breath against his ear, her body so close to his, it was like a drug that he could not resist, "You don't know what I want to do to you, sweetling"

she softly Giggled "I do not, but I'd like to know."

he felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of her laugh, her voice like sweet music to his ears. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin of her neck, just below her ear "I want to touch you. I want to hold you… I want to bury myself in you" he whispered quietly, his voice thick with desire

she blushed hard craning her neck to allow him more space to kiss

he pressed a line of soft kisses down her neck, his hands gripping her sides as he whispered against her skin "I want to hear you moan" he purred, his voice like velvet "I want to taste you, make you come undone in my arms" he continued to kiss down her neck, his hands moving to her rear and pulling her body against his as he whispered in her ear "I want to take you to my bed and keep you there, so I can hear the lovely noises you make when I touch you"

she giggled once more as he pulled her as tight to him as possible, his hands on her ass, her chest pressed against his, heaving as she gasps desperately, "Then what is stopping you?"

he felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine, the way her body was pressed against his own like sweet torture. Her voice in his ear, the feeling of her in his hands making his heart race, his blood burn, "Nothing." he whispered, his voice thick with need. He took her hand and pulled her towards his chambers…

[etherealeowyn]

"My heart has and always will be yours" - Haldir x Fem Reader

Y/n saves Haldir amid the Battle of Helm's Deep.

This is mostly angst, but there's a little fluff too!

Word Count: 1,754

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and The Rings of Power!

This is a request for @arrowlina! I hope you like what I have written!

The moon and scattered torches were the only light that shone upon the legions of men from Rohan who courageously stood their ground at The Hornburg, located at the mouth of the gorge known as Helm’s Deep. Though they fought with their all, the masses of Uruk Hai marched towards them with only the goal of taking the position, their only fear was being defeated.

Knowing just how important this location was, Galadriel and Celeborn sent reinforcements from their lands to stop Saruman’s forces from taking control. The elves who marched to provide help knew just how dangerous their participation would be; however, the fight was understood to be more important than any of them.

Y/n bowed her head at the men she had passed, noticing the hope that had returned to their eyes as she and Haldir led the other elves from Lothlorien into the fortress. Their presence was reassuring, yet Y/n knew it was going to take much more than just them being there to secure a victory.

Haldir hardly paid any mind to the men who surrounded him. Y/n watched as his eyes remained forward, most likely running through any last-minute strategies that had hit him. He did not appear to be nervous; quite frankly, there was a content expression that laced his features.

After they met up with the other leaders, it was time for them to take their positions, for there were only mere moments until the battle would commence.

“Haldir,” Y/n started turning to the blonde elf beside her, “You must know that whatever happens during this battle, my heart has and always will be yours.”

He raised his hand slowly, caressing her face before speaking, “As is mine, I look forward to rejoicing with you when the fight is over my love.”

The pair broke up at the sound of arrows whistling through the dense night air, immediately jumping into action. Each of their actions was calculated as they shouted orders at the elven troops, maintaining a fighting style that would ensure their supplies could last for the entirety of the battle.

They were aware that a massive number of orcs would march upon Helm’s Deep, however, the sheer magnitude of their attempt to break down the walls was frightening. Images of defeat flashed through Y/n’s mind, and although she tried to push those thoughts away, fear was rising within her. But she had no time to delve into it.

When the elves' support proved useless in guarding the wall, Y/n sprinted out behind Aragorn and the others, ditching her bow for a sword, and cutting orcs down as they attempted to attack her. They came at her from every direction, causing her to duck and dodge blows aimed at her. She had no time to think about anything other than the fight at hand, for she knew even the smallest of distractions could cause her untimely death.

Though Haldir had his troubles to focus on, he maintained a close eye on his elven bride, ensuring he could get to her if need be. Not that he doubted her abilities to defend herself against the Uruk Hai, but he was aware that one could easily get overwhelmed in times like this.

Fatigue had begun to fall over the soldiers, their bodies completely and utterly drained by the immense number of orcs, and Haldir was no exception. An orc that appeared to be larger than the rest approached him, and even though Haldir tried his absolute best to attack him, he found himself relying more on defense. He held up his blade, trying to shove the orc’s weapon away from him, but despite his best efforts the orc swiftly knocked it onto the ground, leaving Haldir defenseless.

His eyes slightly widened, but he refused to let the Uruk Hai see his fear. The orc lunged forward, puncturing the elf in his abdomen, and though he was in complete and utter pain, he only let a small grunt escape his lips.

As the orc reveled in the elf’s defeat, he failed to notice Y/n who was charging at him, and in one swift movement, she jumped and lodged her sword through its heart. With anger flowing through her veins, she twisted the blade further in, staring into its eyes as she watched any sign of life drain.

Turning her attention back to Haldir, she ran over to him, and somehow, the adrenaline coursing through her body allowed her to pick him up and carry him over to an area hidden away from the rest of the battle. His head was resting in her lap as her palm pressed firmly on the wound, preventing any blood from escaping.

“I-I’m scared,” he whispered, letting a tear spill from his dark blue eyes.

“There is no need to fear anything, my love, I’m here with you now, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” Y/n spoke, masking her fear with a façade of confident reassurance.

“We can’t stay here,” Haldir noted, gesturing to where the clanking of swords and crashing of armor could be heard.

“You’re right, I need to get you out of here,” Y/n replied, thinking for a moment before her ears perked at the sound of hooves pounding against the earth.

“They’ve arrived!” a voice sounded in the distance.

“The Riders of Rohan are here!” another yelled.

“I need a horse,” she muttered to herself realizing that she would have to leave Haldir alone for a moment, even in his terrible condition.

“Haldir, I must leave you here briefly, but I promise I’ll be back. I need to get a horse so I can take you somewhere safe. There’s no way we could make it anywhere on foot,” she told him, taking the pad of her thumb and wiping away his tears.

He nodded at her with a small smile, “Be safe,” were the only words he said before she jumped up and ran back into battle, with her sword in front of her.

Y/n scanned the area, her eyes locking onto a horse not too far away, its rider slain by the treacherous creatures. Sprinting to it, she grabbed onto its reins and started to lead it to the corner where Haldir was situated.

Seething in pain, she watched as an arrow grazed her bicep, though she couldn’t focus on the pain, for there was a greater task that needed to be completed. Disregarding everything around her Y/n kept pushing along, each step forward feeling like an eternity.

“Darling I’m back,” Y/n stated before looking down at Haldir whose eyes were shut, sweat beading on his face.

Immediately running towards him, she placed her fingers against his throat, checking for a pulse, and she let out a sigh of relief when his heart was still pumping blood throughout his body.

Snaking her arms underneath his, she dragged him to the horse but struggled to pull him onto the saddle. Beginning to panic, she tried to think of another way to help him up, but she was stumped.

“Let me help,” a voice sounded, and Y/n turned her head, watching as Aragorn sprinted over.

He told her to get onto the horse first, and she did without hesitation. While he pushed Haldir up onto the horse, Y/n helped to lift him; both working together to get him situated in front of her. Y/n wrapped her arms around Haldir’s waist, grabbing the reins as his head dropped forward, maintaining his unconsciousness.

“Thank you, Aragorn, I will surely find a way to repay you for your kindness,” Y/n stated, bowing her head at the man before flicking the reins with her wrists and quickly maneuvering through the crowds of orcs, elves, and men.

The sun had begun to rise in the east, the light cutting through the haze of fog that had fallen over the lands. Y/n was thankful for the horse she had borrowed, noting that it was faster than she imagined it to be, making their return to camp quicker than expected.

When she saw the healing tent in the middle of the camp, she immediately stopped the horse, gesturing for people to come and help her bring him inside. Though they were whisking him away almost quicker than she could move, Y/n refused to leave his side, desperately needing to be there with him.

Watching as they removed his armor, she noticed just how bad the wound was, she had to turn around, for it was too painful to watch. She sat in a chair nearby, watching as the healers swiftly moved around providing the help he desperately needed.

Sitting there, Y/n felt exhaustion begin to take hold of her body, and she fought her heavy eyelids from closing, though eventually she succumbed to their weight.

“Y/n,” a quiet yet hoarse said, yet Y/n didn’t wake up, she only shifted slightly in the uncomfortable chair.

“Y/n,” the voice spoke again, this time louder, making the female elves quickly open, confusion lacing her features, forgetting where she had fallen asleep.

When her eyes fell upon Haldir’s form that was lying in bed, she jumped up when she noticed that his blue eyes were open and alert.

“My love, you’re okay!” she exclaimed, kneeling on the ground next to his bed, before grabbing his hand and gently kissing it.

“All thanks to you,” Haldir said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, making Y/n’s heart practically melt within her chest.

“I was only doing what you would’ve done for me,” Y/n started, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “For a while there, I thought I was going to lose you.”

Haldir looked at Y/n, his throat tightening as he realized how much pain he must’ve caused her in those terrifying moments. He couldn’t possibly imagine what that would’ve felt like.

“My dear, I’m sorry for the pain I must’ve caused you, but you must know that you cannot get rid of me that easily. I’m stubborn in that regard,” he replied, cupping her cheek with his hand, ignoring the soreness that had overtaken his body.

“Do not apologize, it was not your fault Haldir,” she responded, wiping away the sadness from her eyes.

“Ah yes, I should’ve remembered your stubbornness,” Y/n continued, letting a small laugh escape her lips.

“Please, for your own sake, do your best not to forget it,” Haldir smirked, pushing himself up in bed, just enough for Y/n to gently wrap her arms around him, and give him a tender hug.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

[earthlybeam]

The reader (you) , with your bratty personality, loved teasing the elves. You always find ways to get their attention at the most inconvenient times, often by reaching out to touch the elf’s sensitive ears. (For the elves, it was more than just a simple touch—such actions were seen as intimate, a signal of courting, and a serious one at that also incredibly sensitive to pain and pleasure. If the reader (you) didn’t get the response you wanted, you’d torment the elf’s ears further, pinching or tugging until their target finally relented. You knew just how to push their buttons—always with a smile and a glint of mischief in their eyes.)

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond, Celeborn version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

Gil-galad was no stranger to the burdens of leadership. As the High King of the Noldor, the weight of the crown often pressed heavily on his shoulders. He was accustomed to being in control, to having his decisions made with unwavering precision, and his commands followed with absolute loyalty. His days were filled with strategy, diplomacy, and endless matters of state, leaving little room for distractions. But you—you, with that mischievous glint in your eye—seemed determined to be the exception. He was used to the quiet hum of his court, the careful, polite whispers of his council members, the solemn discussions that shaped the fate of Middle-earth. He had learned to maintain a stoic calm in the face of countless pressures. But you—you had a way of unraveling his composure, bit by bit, until there was nothing left but the heat of your teasing touches.

Today was no different. As he stood on the balcony, gazing out over Lindon, deep in thought about the future of his people, he felt it. The familiar sensation—the lightest brush of fingertips against the edge of his ear. His sensitive elven ears twitched involuntarily, a small gasp escaping his lips before he could stop it. The touch was innocent enough, playful even. But he knew what it meant—knew that you had every intention of making a game out of it. Turning his head slowly, Gil-galad’s eyes found you standing just out of reach, feigning innocence. His gaze narrowed, and despite his better judgment, a small, indulgent smile tugged at his lips. “Are you so certain that you want my attention, little one?” His voice was calm, but there was a trace of warning beneath the surface.

You couldn’t help it. There was something so satisfying about making Gil-galad lose that composure of his. For all his wisdom, his age, his power—he was still, in some ways, just like any other Elf, sensitive in ways he didn’t want to admit. And those ears? Oh, you knew exactly what a simple touch could do. You’d watched him closely, noticed how his ear would twitch when you brushed too close. How his expression would falter, just a fraction, when your fingers lingered on that delicate, pointed curve. His stoic façade might fool many, but you had the key to unlocking something deeper, something raw beneath that calm exterior. With a grin that barely restrained your mischievous intent, you took a step closer. He was standing there, too absorbed in his thoughts—so serene, so dignified—and you had no intentions of letting him stay that way. You reached up, pinching one of his ears, the motion quick and sharp, just enough to make his jaw tighten. His immediate reaction was almost imperceptible—a tightening of his lips, the briefest flicker in his eye. But you had felt it. You had seen it. He was trying so hard to remain stoic. “Careful, my King,” you whispered teasingly. “You wouldn’t want to lose that composure, would you?”

The pinch sent a sharp jolt through Gil-galad’s ear, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a slow breath to steady himself. How bold you were. You knew exactly how to push him, to provoke him, and in such a way that he could hardly stop you. The delicate skin of his ear was more sensitive than most would realize—and you knew that. Too well, he thought. “Enough,” he murmured, though his tone carried a softness that betrayed his usual authority. His eyes softened ever so slightly, but there was an edge to his words, a warning that came with the weight of being a king. “You do not want to test my patience, my little flower.” But, of course, you did not relent. You never did. A second later, his ear was subjected to your playful torment once again—a quick pinch, then a teasing brush that made him flinch. His breath hitched before he could fully mask it. It was maddening how you always seemed to find the perfect moment to push him to the edge. He stood still, his hand clenched by his side in an effort to maintain some semblance of control, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

You were relentless, always just out of reach, always knowing how far you could push him before his control slipped away. His gaze flickered to yours—dark eyes filled with a quiet command, though a trace of something else lingered there, something unspoken. “Do not tempt me,” he growled, his voice low and almost dangerous, the edges of his usual calm fraying as his patience began to thin. The flicker of vulnerability in his voice made you smile. It was too tempting. His authority was always present, a constant weight upon his shoulders, but that look—that brief moment where he faltered—it was priceless. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the strength of his restraint warring with the pull of your teasing.

“Oh? Am I tempting you, my King?” you replied with a soft chuckle, stepping closer, just a whisper of space between you. You didn’t touch him, not yet, but you hovered near him, close enough to make him feel your presence, feel the pull of your proximity. His stoic face remained carefully neutral, but you could hear the slight hitch in his breath as you hovered near his ear. You brushed your fingers lightly along the curve of his ear again, just enough to make him feel it, just enough to make him fight to maintain his composure. Gil-galad’s gaze narrowed, his muscles tensing at your every move. His lips pressed together tightly, and you could see the faintest tremor in his jaw. He was trying so hard to remain composed, to hold onto that elusive control, but you could sense the undercurrent of tension in him, the subtle flicker of his resolve weakening with each passing moment. The smallest of movements—a barely noticeable shift in his posture—betrayed the struggle within him.

“Gil-galad,” you murmured, leaning in a little closer, your breath warm against his ear. “I only want to play. A little teasing never hurt anyone, has it?”His heart beat faster, but Gil-galad didn’t let it show. Damn you, he thought, yet he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching in a near-smile. The battle for composure was growing harder by the second. Every time your fingers brushed against his ear, every light touch, it felt like a thousand whispers all at once. He had lived for centuries—he was a king, an ancient elf, and yet you, with your bratty little games, had a way of unraveling him that no foe ever could. His patience, once as steady as the mountains, was eroding. Slipping away like the sands of time. “Enough,” he repeated, his voice still steady but laced with something far less certain. A soft tremor was hidden beneath the calm façade as his hand reached up, almost involuntarily, brushing the side of his ear where your fingers had just been. The gesture betrayed the subtle storm brewing within him. His body was betraying him, and it irritated him more than he cared to admit. “You test me, little one,” he said, his words thick with something deeper now—something affectionate, despite the strained composure he was desperately trying to cling to.

His eyes found yours, dark and smoldering, eyes that burned with both authority and something much more dangerous—an edge of challenge, of desire, that he hadn’t shown you before. The king was gone for a moment, replaced by something far more personal, far more exposed. And before you could react, his hand moved again, reaching out to cup your chin gently, lifting your face so your eyes could meet his, locking with yours in a way that sent a surge of heat through your body. “If this is how you wish to earn my attention, then so be it,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, a playful thread woven into the depth of his words. “But you must know, I am no stranger to games of my own. And I always play to win.”

You could feel it then—the challenge. You’d pushed him, unraveling his composed façade, and now he had you right where he wanted you. That calm, regal authority was still there, but beneath it, something new simmered—something that you hadn’t seen before. The eyes that once seemed so distant, so distant and cold, were now filled with a raw intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His words, laced with such quiet power, rang in your ears, and you realized with a thrill that the game had changed. Now, you were both players in this dance of seduction and challenge. You met his gaze, daring and unyielding, but there was a hint of uncertainty in you, a slight tremor in your chest that you would not allow him to see. You knew he had been affected, perhaps more than he cared to admit, and that gave you all the power you needed. The satisfaction of knowing you had drawn him in—drawn him to this point—was worth everything.

“Then play, my King,” you whispered, your voice low, with a daring smile tugging at the corners of your lips, letting him decide how the game would unfold from here. You could feel the heat between you, the challenge that stretched like a taut wire between you both, just waiting for one of you to pull. You had drawn him into this dance, and now the steps were his to lead. But deep down, neither of you needed to say it aloud—this was far from over. Neither of you had the intention of stopping. The game had only just begun. Gil-galad’s breath caught at your words. There it was, the challenge that he had been holding back, the undeniable invitation that left him both exhilarated and dangerously intrigued. You had called his bluff, and now there was nothing left to do but follow through with the game. The fire in his chest was growing, stoking his desire to see just how far you would push him—and how much of him you could make him lose control of.

His eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking in a way that felt inevitable. His body was taut, like a bowstring drawn too tight, and the faintest flicker of something darker lingered in his expression—something raw, something almost primal. “You will learn, little one,” he murmured, his voice now thick with promise. He moved as if the world itself had slowed, every step measured and deliberate. His hand brushed lightly against your cheek before his fingers slid down, grazing the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was gentle—deceptively so—but the heat in his gaze was undeniable, a flame that danced behind his cool composure. The moment stretched, taut like a drawn bow, and he leaned in close, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Do you know what you’ve done?” His words were low, hushed, barely a breath against your skin, but they held weight—he was no longer the High King of Lindon, the untouchable ruler. Now, he was something more dangerous, more tangled in this game than you could have imagined. You had pulled him in, and now, in the space between desire and restraint, he wasn’t certain who was winning. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, despite the intensity of the moment. He couldn’t help but admire your audacity, how you still stood your ground even as the storm between you both built. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, his grip not harsh, but enough to keep you where he wanted you. Close. “You’ve awakened something, and now I intend to see it through.”

His lips, hovering just above your own, were a breath away, but he didn’t kiss you. No, he was letting the anticipation stretch, letting the power shift in his favor. His other hand brushed against your ear once more, this time with far more intention, as if to remind you of just how sensitive he was—of just how far he would let you push before he decided to take control. Your teasing had worked, but now, the stakes had changed. There was no going back from this. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned, his lips curling into a smile that was as much a challenge as it was a promise. “But I warn you, I don’t lose.” It was a statement, but it held something deeper. Something intimate, something that carried the weight of more than just words. Gil-galad leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on your neck, his thumb brushing gently over the curve of your skin. The control was back in his hands, but the tension between you still crackled like an electric charge, both of you knowing that the game was far from finished. The power was shifting, but neither of you was ready to give up just yet. His gaze swept over your features once more, his smile still lingering. “You’ve played your hand, little one,” he said softly. “Now, let’s see how you respond when the game shifts in my favor.” And with that, he moved, a step closer, as if to close the distance between your lips with a kiss that was still just out of reach.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

Thranduil sat at his desk, the dim light of his study flickering softly against the walls, casting long shadows. His fingers moved across ancient maps and scrolls, the weight of centuries of leadership heavy in his thoughts. Mirkwood was calm—too calm. His mind was always occupied with the threats that loomed at the edges of his kingdom, but tonight, he was lost in the minutiae of strategy and diplomacy. The faintest sound of light footfalls reached his ears, but he didn’t lift his gaze from the scroll in front of him. He had learned over the years that Mirkwood was full of intrusions, both from the forest and from within his own halls. Still, something in the air felt different.

You crept into his study with the same mischievous glint in your eyes that had earned you both admiration and frustration from the Elven king. Thranduil hadn’t noticed you approach at first, so focused was he on his work, but that only gave you the advantage. You hovered behind his chair for a moment, taking in the sight of the king as he immersed himself in his responsibilities. His hair, long and flowing like silver threads of moonlight, framed his strong features, his brow furrowed with concentration. The sharpness of his gaze, even when unfocused, was enough to make anyone stand at attention—but you were not just anyone. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his shoulders slightly tensed whenever you were near. And you had a particular fondness for that subtle vulnerability, for the way he resisted, and yet seemed to appreciate your antics.

Reaching forward slowly, your fingers brushed against the tips of his elven ears, and you felt him freeze immediately. The slight tremor of his body was all the confirmation you needed to know that, yes, the rumors were true. The sensitivity of an elf’s ears was nothing to be trifled with. At first, you didn’t press it. You simply caressed the delicate points of his ears with a feather-light touch, the softness of his skin beneath your fingers sending a shiver down your spine. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but his voice remained steady as he continued working, his posture betraying his growing awareness of your presence. “Did you need something?” Thranduil’s voice was quiet, but there was an underlying strain in it, as though he were trying to maintain his composure despite your proximity.

You smiled, a devious twinkle in your eye as you leaned in just a little closer. “Oh, nothing in particular,” you said softly, your breath barely a whisper against his ear. “I was just thinking… how long will it take before you give me your full attention?” You pinched his ear gently, just enough to make the skin flush beneath your fingers. Thranduil’s body tensed almost imperceptibly, and you could see the corner of his lip twitch in irritation. He slowly lowered the scroll in his hand, his gaze sharpening with a mix of wariness and amusement as he looked up at you, finally turning his head. “You have an insufferable way of getting what you want, don’t you?”

The words were tinged with both exasperation and something else—perhaps a touch of fascination, though he would never admit it. You loved how he tried to stay composed, how he fought against your little games, but you knew him well enough by now. Thranduil might be a king, but he was also an elf, and underneath that regal facade, he was not immune to temptation. You didn’t wait for a response, instead choosing to torment him further. You pinched his ear again, this time a little firmer, twisting it with a deliberate movement. His breath faltered, and his hand clenched the arm of his chair. “You’re being quite cruel,” he muttered, but there was a note of frustration creeping into his voice. He didn’t move to stop you, though. Instead, his sharp eyes narrowed as he studied you—waiting, perhaps hoping that you’d stop, but knowing, too, that you wouldn’t.

“Am I?” you teased, pressing your thumb to the edge of his ear and giving it another, more insistent pinch. “You seem to like it, though.” Your fingers danced along the sensitive tip, and you felt him shift beneath your touch, his chest rising and falling slightly faster. Thranduil’s eyes flickered to your hand, and his lip curled ever so slightly. The King of Mirkwood had his pride, and even in this vulnerable moment, he wasn’t one to beg or show weakness. But you could tell his patience was fraying. His grip on the chair tightened, and there was a quiet warning in his voice as he spoke again. “I am not one to be trifled with, little one.” The words were clipped, but there was an undertone of something deeper. Desire, perhaps. Or simply the need to regain control. You leaned in close again, the tip of your nose brushing against the side of his face as you whispered, “We’ll see about that.”

Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat as the sharp, unexpected pinch of his ear jolted him from his thoughts. His eyes, usually steady and calculating, flickered with a moment of vulnerability, and he couldn’t suppress the soft, involuntary hiss that escaped his lips. He had never quite expected this from you—the delicate balance of teasing and torment. You had crossed a line now, and the energy between you crackled with a dangerous tension. His pride, unshakable and centuries-old, flared, and yet, a deeper part of him, something raw and instinctive, stirred to life. It wasn’t pain he felt—not exactly. The sensation was sharp, yes, but something else lingered too: the unsettling pulse of his own body responding to your touch. The way his ears burned under your fingertips, how the very edge of the discomfort had a strange, intoxicating edge to it, unlike anything he had ever allowed to happen. And now, here you were, smirking at him with that unmistakable gleam in your eyes, knowing exactly what you had done.

“You,” he growled, his voice dropping lower, filled with a dangerous calm, a blend of amusement and something darker. “You will regret this, little one.” He didn’t need to see you to know that you were savoring this moment. You always seemed to delight in seeing him on the edge of something he couldn’t quite control. You were like that—a force of nature, wild and mischievous, playing with him like a cat with a mouse. But Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood, never let a game slip from his grasp, and he wasn’t going to start now. Your smirk widened just a fraction, the gleam in your eyes only deepening as you leaned back slightly to admire your work. You had gotten under his skin. You had made him feel something he wasn’t used to feeling, and for a brief moment, it unsettled him. He had never thought his weakness—his ear, his damnable sensitivity—would be exposed like this, let alone by someone who took such delight in tormenting it.

Your gaze didn’t waver from his, the challenge clear in your posture. The tension built as Thranduil’s lips parted, eyes flashing dangerously. This wasn’t a moment of weakness. It wasn’t pain that gripped him, but something else, something far more complicated. His hand rose, almost too quickly, his fingers latching onto your wrist with an unexpected force. He didn’t yank you, but there was no denying the strength in his grip, the way it seemed to hold you in place as his presence towered over you. He could have simply taken your hand away, could have made this interaction nothing more than a swift rebuke, but no—Thranduil wasn’t one to be disrespected without consequence, especially when it came to something as intimate as his ear.

“You think you can play with me like this, little one?” His voice was a low murmur, but it carried a power that made your heart beat a little faster. “Let us see how well you handle my attention.” The words were carefully chosen, as if to remind you that this wasn’t a simple game. He was the king, the one who commanded Mirkwood, who had spent centuries as both a ruler and a protector of his people. But in that moment, you weren’t thinking of any of that. You were thinking of how the game had shifted. How the roles had reversed, and now, Thranduil was the one who had been provoked. You could see it in the way his lips curved slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t just annoyance that flickered in his eyes—it was interest. A challenge.

You didn’t flinch. In fact, your lips curled into a slight smirk of your own as you met his gaze, unflinching and confident, like you were in control of the situation. You had provoked him, and you knew he was no longer the one unaffected. You had caught his attention, and that was a dangerous thing for both of you. His fingers remained tightly wound around your wrist, but his touch was controlled, deliberate, as if marking his territory, asserting his dominance in this little game. And yet, there was a flicker of something else in his expression—a deeper curiosity, even a hunger, that you had never seen in him before. It wasn’t just about punishment anymore. No, this was more complicated. He was intrigued by you. You had made him feel something raw, something old and long buried, and now, you had his full attention. You swallowed, but still, you didn’t break eye contact. The challenge had been issued. It was no longer just about the playful teasing or your little games. Thranduil’s attention was now focused entirely on you, and you had the feeling this would no longer be as easy as you expected. The game had begun, but now, it was a game of give and take. And you? You were ready for whatever came next.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The tranquil halls of Rivendell hummed with the gentle whispers of flowing water and rustling leaves, a sanctuary of peace and beauty. Yet, in one particular study, serenity was far from the prevailing mood. There, at his grand oak desk, Lord Elrond sat, his elegant quill scratching steadily over a parchment filled with intricate Elven script. The lord of Imladris was the picture of focus, his noble features serene as the golden light of the afternoon filtered through the arched windows. Unfortunately for him, you were also in the room. You were standing not far behind his chair, arms crossed, lips twisted in a playful pout. The stillness of the room was only broken by the soft rustling of parchment as Elrond worked, lost in whatever task had so firmly claimed his attention. The sight of his perfect composure, the calm yet powerful figure of the lord, only fueled your impatience. He had been like this for hours, completely immersed in his work—totally ignoring you.

With a dramatic sigh, you leaned slightly forward, careful not to disturb his quiet routine too much. “Elrond,” you began, dragging his name in a playful sing-song that was sure to catch his attention. You could see his shoulders tense just slightly in acknowledgment. “How long must you sit there ignoring me? You’ve been staring at those scrolls for hours. Do you even know I’m here?” Elrond’s hand paused for a brief moment, his quill hovering just above the parchment. His focus shifted, but only just. Without looking up from the words he was writing, he responded, his voice calm, but laced with that familiar, measured elegance. “I am well aware of your presence, Mellon nín. However, this task demands my attention.” You scoffed lightly, knowing full well that his response was nothing more than an attempt at deflection. His voice was smooth, practiced, but you could feel the tiniest hint of his own frustration under the surface. “More than I do?” you teased, arching an eyebrow, stepping a little closer, your gaze fixated on him with an impish glint. He didn’t look up, but there was the faintest shift in his posture, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. “Patience is a virtue, my dear,” he replied, a quiet warmth in his voice. You pursed your lips and planted your hands on your hips. “Patience is overrated.” The words slipped out with a confident, almost bratty edge, an open challenge. But as you spoke, your eyes wandered. You watched him, the lord of Rivendell, so poised and composed. And then, there it was—the delicate curve of his ear, just peeking through the dark strands of his silken hair.

It was a sight that you had grown to recognize. His ears, those slender points, were not just a distinguishing feature of his race but something deeply personal. To touch them, especially the sensitive tips, was an intimate gesture for an elf. So many unspoken things were tied to that one action, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you could push him before his patience gave way. The mischievous spark in your eyes grew as the idea took root. If you won’t give me attention willingly, I’ll just have to take it. Your steps were light, but deliberate as you moved behind his chair. His attention was still on the parchment, but you knew—he knows. His incredible hearing, that gift of Elven sensitivity, had undoubtedly already sensed your movement, the slight shift of your presence. Leaning in just a fraction closer, you reached forward, your fingers brushing against the fine, soft strands of his hair. Elrond did not stir, but you could see his ear twitch slightly, ever so subtly. You smiled inwardly. With a barely audible breath, you pinched the very tip of his ear. Elrond’s response was immediate. His quill stopped mid-motion, hovering above the parchment, and his hand froze. His body stilled for a heartbeat, a slight tremor passing through him. The air between you thickened, and you could feel the weight of his attention slowly shifting from his work to you. His sharp, clear eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments, before narrowing with a subtle warning. A soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath left his lips as his gaze flickered to you over his shoulder, catching the playful glint in your eyes.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. You could sense him holding his breath, weighing his options. He was torn between annoyance and amusement—torn between the responsibility he bore as the Lord of Rivendell and his inability to deny his body’s reaction to your touch. Elven ears were a sensitive thing—sensitive to both pleasure and pain—and you had expertly walked the fine line between them. His tone, when it came, was low but edged with a warning. “(Y/N), do you truly wish to test me today?” His voice was calm, measured, but there was a flicker of something deeper in the depths of his gaze, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

Feigning innocence, you took a small step back, holding your hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “Test you? I’d never,” you replied, your voice dripping with mock sweetness, a layer of innocence laid over your mischievous grin. But your eyes—your eyes betrayed you. The glint in them, the playfulness in the curve of your lips, revealed everything that needed no words. Elrond’s gaze softened, but only briefly. There was a softness in his eyes that spoke of a long history of affection, but beneath that, there was something more—a challenge in his stance, a resolve that only you could bring to the surface. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the corners of his mouth curving up just enough to betray his amusement, though the challenge in his eyes remained unyielding. “You are truly a handful, Mellon nín,” he murmured, and there was something almost affectionate in the way he said it. But the look he gave you was a clear warning. You knew this game wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

Before Elrond could return to his work, you reached out again, this time brushing your fingers along the smooth curve of his ear. The response was immediate—his body stiffened, his back straightened with military precision, and his lips pressed into a thin, controlled line. His elegant features, usually so composed, wavered just for a moment, and the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink, a silent admission of how deeply your touch affected him. His sharp eyes darted to you, and for a brief second, you thought you saw a flicker of vulnerability there—something that made the ever-dignified lord seem a touch more… mortal. He caught his breath, as if unsure whether to scold you or indulge your playful torment. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice deeper now, laced with an undeniable warning. “You know how delicate a matter this is. Touching an elf’s ears…” His words trailed off, the weight of his knowledge pressing down. “Oh, I know,” you interrupted, not giving him a chance to finish. A mischievous grin spread across your lips as you leaned in closer. “That’s exactly why it’s so much fun,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with just enough intent to make the air between you thick with playful tension.

Elrond’s gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a subtle frown, but there was a spark in his eyes that betrayed a hint of curiosity. “Fun, you say?” His voice held the faintest note of disbelief. “Mm-hmm.” You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re so serious all the time, Elrond. I think you need someone to remind you how to have a little fun now and then.” You saw the slight tension in his jaw as he exhaled softly, resigning himself to the fact that you would not be easily deterred. He set his quill down with exaggerated care, each movement deliberate, as though the moment required his utmost attention. Then, turning in his chair to face you fully, he clasped his hands together, folding them on his lap, his posture one of restrained patience. “And you believe this is the way to achieve that?” he asked, his tone gentle but pointed. You tilted your head, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Well,” you said, drawing out the word, “you leave me no choice. If you won’t look away from your work, I have to get your attention somehow.” Elrond’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and though his gaze remained sharp, there was something in his eyes—something warmer, perhaps even fond—that softened the edges of his irritation. “You are incorrigible,” he muttered with a quiet chuckle, the words losing their sting when paired with the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe,” you said with a casual shrug, grinning unabashedly. “But you love it.” Before he could offer a retort, you moved again, quicker this time, your fingers catching the soft curve of his ear once more. The moment you made contact, you saw his entire body react—his posture faltered, and his breath hitched sharply, his chest rising and falling just a little faster. His cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, more pronounced now, as though the warmth from your touch had burned straight through his usually composed exterior. With a swift, decisive motion, Elrond reached up to capture your hand in his, his grip firm but not harsh. “That is quite enough,” he said, his voice low and rich, a commanding undertone settling in that was impossible to ignore. There was a promise in his words—something that hinted at retribution, and yet, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he enjoyed this little game. “Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning in close enough to see the faintest, barely-contained smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Admit it—you like it when I keep you on your toes.” Elrond’s grey eyes, which usually carried the weight of centuries of wisdom, softened just a fraction, and for a brief moment, he looked younger—almost playful. The flicker of something mischievous sparked in his gaze, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a tender patience. “What I like,” he said softly, his voice taking on a more indulgent tone, though it still held the weight of that quiet exasperation, “is a challenge. And you, Mellon nín, are most certainly that.”

Triumph surged in your chest at his words, and you flashed him a cocky grin. “So I win?” Elrond’s lips curved upward in the barest of smiles, and his gaze held a knowing gleam, one that suggested you may have won this small victory, but the war was far from over. “Hardly,” he said, his tone a blend of fondness and mild reproach. Before you could process his words, Elrond stood up from his chair with fluid grace, his tall, elegant frame towering over you. You didn’t have a chance to react before he leaned down, his face just inches from yours. The sheer closeness of him—the warmth of his breath mingling with yours—was enough to send your pulse racing. His expression was calm, but his eyes glinted with something far more dangerous, something playful. “You forget, my dear,” he said softly, his voice like velvet as it wrapped around you. “An elf always has the upper hand.” The words held a knowing finality, a promise that you weren’t as in control as you thought. And before you could respond, Elrond’s hand moved, swift as a shadow, brushing the side of your neck with a feather-light touch—deliberately echoing the torment you had visited on his ear. The sensation was electric, the light touch sending a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the unexpected shock of it.

Elrond’s smile deepened as he straightened, leaving you breathless and momentarily off balance. “You see?” he said, his voice victorious. “Two can play at this game.” You glared at him, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He had turned the tables, and he knew it. His composure was impeccable once again, his features settling back into the calm, regal manner of the Lord of Rivendell. But you saw the smirk on his face, the faintest spark of amusement in his eyes. “Well played,” you admitted grudgingly, your voice a mix of admiration and frustration. “Indeed,” he replied, his voice rich with approval, as he resumed his seat at the desk. He paused for a moment, allowing the tension between you to linger before he spoke again, his tone no less authoritative. “Now, if you are quite finished with your antics, perhaps I can return to my work?” You crossed your arms, huffing in mock indignation. Yet, the glimmer of affection in his eyes softened the blow of his words. Despite everything, despite his firm stance, you could see how much he cared for you in the small, fleeting expressions that he couldn’t quite mask. You’d let him win this round—but only because you were already planning your next move. And this game, you knew, was far from over.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

The golden light of Lothlórien filtered softly through the canopy above, dappling Celeborn’s study with patches of warm sunlight. You sat across the room, your chin propped up on your hand as you watched him work. His posture was impeccable as always, back straight, shoulders relaxed, every movement precise as he dipped his quill into the inkpot and scrawled elegant script onto the parchment. His silver hair shimmered like liquid starlight, cascading over his shoulders in waves. At first, the sight was mesmerizing—a portrait of elven grace and focus. But the novelty wore off quickly. The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional scratch of the quill or the soft rustle of paper. You sighed dramatically, shifting in your seat to make your presence known, but Celeborn remained unbothered, his eyes fixed on his work. The boredom began to creep in, your fingers drumming absently on the armrest of your chair. You studied him closely, your gaze wandering over the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the slight furrow of his brow as he concentrated. Then your eyes settled on his ears—delicate, pointed, and oh-so-tempting.

You knew enough of elven customs to understand the significance of touching them. Their sensitivity was almost legendary, and to an elf, their ears were as intimate as any touch to the heart. It was precisely why you couldn’t resist. The thought of flustering Celeborn—who was always so composed and regal—sent a mischievous thrill through you. Your lips curled into a sly smile as you shifted in your seat, leaning forward slightly. He didn’t notice. The perfect target. The quill moved steadily in his hand, and his focus remained entirely on the parchment in front of him. Oh, you’d fix that. Your hand darted out, your fingers aiming straight for the pointed tip of his ear, unable to resist the challenge of breaking through that impeccable calm. The smirk widened on your face as you anticipated his reaction, and the game began.

The tranquil stillness of Lothlórien was interrupted not by the sound of an intruding force, nor the rustling of the leaves underfoot, but by a soft, unexpected pinch on Celeborn’s ear. The Sindarin lord paused mid-sentence, his voice faltering as he attempted to resume the careful dictation of a letter to one of his allies. His quill hovered over the parchment, ink threatening to drip onto the pristine surface. A faint pink blush dusted his cheeks, but his expression betrayed nothing more than mild annoyance. Slowly, Celeborn turned his head, his silver hair brushing over his shoulders like flowing water, only to find you perched nearby, a smirk playing across your lips. “Must you?” he asked, his voice even but carrying an undertone of exasperation. “I must,” you replied, your fingers reaching out to tweak the delicate tip of his ear again, your grin widening when he flinched. “You’ve been sitting there for hours, Celeborn. Scribbling letters. Talking to yourself. Boring. I’m rescuing you.”

Celeborn let out a long-suffering sigh, the kind that only someone with millennia of patience could muster. “These letters are of grave importance,” he reminded you, shifting slightly to move his ear out of your reach. His tone was measured and calm, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest flicker of amusement. “And I am not so easily distracted.” You raised a brow, your bratty demeanor gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I disagree. I think you’re very easily distracted,” you said, leaning closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Especially when it comes to these.” Your fingers danced toward his ear again, and this time, you lightly traced the pointed tip. Celeborn froze, his body going rigid, the quill slipping from his grasp to land unceremoniously on the desk. His breath hitched, the tiniest sound escaping his lips—a mixture of surprise and irritation, though there was no disguising the faint shiver that coursed through him.

“Stop that,” he said, his voice slightly strained. His usual unflappable composure was beginning to crack, and the sight of it only encouraged you further. “Stop what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side. Your fingers returned, pinching the soft cartilage gently before trailing downward. “This? Or this?” Celeborn’s hand shot up to catch yours, his grip firm but not forceful. His cool gray eyes locked onto yours, the faintest spark of warning in their depths. “You know precisely what you are doing,” he said, his tone low but steady. “And you know precisely what I want,” you countered, not pulling away from his grasp. You leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled his cheek. “A little attention. That’s all. Is it so much to ask?”

“You have my attention,” Celeborn replied, though his voice betrayed just how much effort it took to maintain his calm. “And I would appreciate it if you did not assault my ears in the process.” “Assault?” you repeated with mock outrage, laughing softly. “I think you like it. Your ears don’t lie, Celeborn—they’re turning red.” He let out a slow breath, his grip on your hand loosening just slightly. “My kins ears are sensitive,” he said, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, as if that fact was not already glaringly obvious. “And you are testing my patience.”

“Patience is overrated,” you said breezily, your free hand darting forward to trace the outer curve of his other ear. His reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Enough,” he said, and this time there was a distinct note of command in his voice. His hand released yours as he turned in his chair to face you fully, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders. Though his expression remained composed, there was a faint intensity in his gaze now, a hint of something sharper beneath his calm exterior. But you were not deterred. If anything, his reaction only fueled your mischief. “Make me stop,” you teased, leaning back just slightly, though your fingers still hovered near his ear, ready to strike again at a moment’s notice.

Celeborn studied you for a long moment, his keen eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing his options. Then, in a move so swift it caught you off guard, he reached out and caught both your wrists in his hands. His grip was gentle but firm, unyielding as he pulled you closer until there was barely any space between you. “You are relentless,” he said, his voice soft but laced with a quiet authority that made your heart skip a beat. “But if you wish for my attention so badly, you need only ask for it. There is no need for this… torment.” Your smirk faltered for a moment, his closeness and the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill down your spine. But you quickly recovered, leaning in with a playful glint in your eye. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Celeborn sighed again, though this time there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You are incorrigible,” he said, releasing your wrists but not leaning back. Instead, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering for just a moment. “Perhaps,” you admitted, your tone softening just slightly. “But you love it.” Celeborn’s gaze softened, his serene composure returning as he regarded you with a mixture of affection and exasperation. “I have endured much in my long years,” he said, a faint smile finally breaking through. “But you, I think, will be the greatest test of my patience yet.” “Good,” you said, your grin returning as you leaned back, victorious. “I’d hate to be boring.” As Celeborn returned to his letters, you couldn’t help but notice the faintest twitch of his ears as he tried—unsuccessfully—to ignore the way your eyes lingered on him. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as unflappable as he liked to pretend.

[lotrandthehobbitwritings]

Arrival of Spring

Pairing: Elrond x (fem!) Reader

Genre: fluff

Warning: none

Words: 2430

Rivendell existed for a little over one and a half millennia. It was prestigious, peaceful, beautiful. Your family originated from Lothlórien, your father was a well trusted guard of Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, which earned your family a great reputation. You were always seen walking the royal gardens, making lots of girls your age jealous as very few people out of the royal family had access to those places. But you being friends with Celebrían gave you an easy way in to all those forbidden areas. That was years ago though, as you now lived in Rivendell alone. What made you move to Rivendell, leaving your family behind in your homeland? Elrond, lord of Rivendell came to Lothlórien after the War of the Elves and Sauron, explaining that he planned to establish a life there and wished it could serve good purposes. Hearing of it, you thought he was noble, and felt as it was your duty to help him achieve his goal. And you did just that.

Elrond was more than appreciative of anyone that wanted to establish a life there and help make this place a welcoming heaven. You were amazed at how easily everyone got acclimated and how quickly this place was becoming what Elrond wished for it to be. As the months went by, you grew quite fond of your new home. You loved how peaceful and quiet it was, you loved taking walks along the many bridges, sitting on benches under the gazebos to read a book while the misty air of the nearby mountains left a cool feeling on your pinkish cheeks. The sound of the river falling over rocks was so relaxing that you could easily spend hours at the same place without noticing time going by. And today was one of those days.

You had been sitting under one of the highest gazebos, reading a book you took from the library this morning. There was a light spring breeze, the flowers were in bloom and birds were making their nest in the highest branches of Rivendell’s trees. Your hair was flowing in the wind, a lock often finding its way in your face, disturbing your reading. After tucking the said lock of hair behind your pointy ear, you resumed to your activities, reading the last few sentences of the chapter that now began to make way more sense than when you read the first phrases of it a few pages back. Time went by, and slowly the air became colder as the sun started making its descent in the sky, gradually making space for the moon to replace the biggest star’s warm light by its cold one. But your body didn’t acknowledge it, after all, elves don’t react to cold weather as easily as others. However, it wasn’t the cold that snapped you out of your reading, but a voice coming from behind you.

‘’Why am I not surprised to find you here?’’

The voice made you jump, yet made you smiled as you recognized it immediately. You turned your head and faced the dark-haired elven lord.

‘’You should come inside’’ Elrond said.

‘’I will, brennyn nín’’ you answered while smiling. ‘’it appeared I lost track of time once again’’

Elrond smiled back and offered you his hand so that you could stand up. He watched as you carefully closed the book, which you almost finished reading, and took his hand, getting up from the white stone bench that was beautifully sculpted.

‘’Please, just call me Elrond’’ he said with his smile still present.

You felt your cheek heat up as you looked into his eyes, and simply gave a small nod. You walked by his side, listening as he talked to you about the gardens and all the flowers that are currently blooming. You took occasional glances at the man beside you, carefully as you did not want to be caught. He was wearing a golden robe made of silk, which flowed with each step he took. His dark and long hair was carefully slicked back and braided, leaving only two strands of hair by each side of his face, a hairstyle he always wore yet you never got tired of seeing it. You loved how it highlighted his features, how his eyes seemed to call even more for your attention. His crown which was so delicate, yet so majestic, and deeply enhancing how gracious he looked. His looks really didn’t compare, and they never got out of your head.

‘’(y/n)?’’

You turned your head to your right after hearing your name.

‘’You seemed deeply lost in your thoughts’’ Elrond said with a small chuckle.

‘’Oh, I’m sorry I did not realize’’

Your cheeks quickly colored red with embarrassment as you hoped he didn’t notice you were looking at him.

‘’It’s alright, I simply was asking which of the flowers you were most excited to see bloom. I know you have spent quite some time in the gardens at Lothlórien and I hope we can make Rivendell’s as beautiful’’

‘’Well, I always loved hyacinths. They are simple yet their color is always so vibrant that it warms your heart in some way’’ you smiled.

‘’Luckily for us that we were able to get some and hopefully ours will grow beautifully, even if I doubt they will be just as Lothlórien’s ones’’

‘’Lothlórien is hard to compare, that’s true. But I believe we can make equally as appealing and charming as the ones from my homeland’’

Elrond nodded and smiled.

‘’Your enthusiasm is what will make them bloom as lovely’’ he said.

You thanked him with a shy voice and stopped walking, almost bumping into the elf as you didn’t notice he himself stopped. As you were about to question the sudden halt, you noticed that you had reached the door to your chambers. You didn’t even realize that you weren’t outside anymore.

‘’You should change, we are having a feist tonight to celebrate the arrival of spring’’

‘’Eru.. It absolutely slipped out of my mind I am so sorry’’ you quickly said, feeling bad as you should’ve gotten ready for it earlier.

‘’There’s no need for apologies, heryn nín. The feist doesn’t start until another hour, you have all the time you need’’

Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t believe your ears. Surely you didn’t hear him properly, he possibly could not have called you like that.

‘’Yes alright, I will ready myself then’’ you said, trying to brush what just happened out of your head.

Elrond smiled and bowed his head in a small nod.

‘’I shall see you then’’

And with that he walked away, most likely to get ready himself. You quickly entered your chamber and closed the wooden door behind you, resting your back on it for a few seconds.

‘’Heryn nín’’ you whispered to yourself, confusion invading your mind.

You yet again put those thoughts aside and walked towards the carved wooden wardrobe and opened it, looking through the dresses that were hanging. You wanted something fancier than a regular dress, but you didn’t have that many. Since it was a feist for spring, you also wanted something of light colors, and as you kept looking at your dresses, your eyes set on one. Since you moved to Rivendell, you had dresses made that were more in the established style, but you still had a few dresses from your home. Your hands carefully grabbed the light purple fabric and you smiled. This was one of your favorites, which is why you brought it with you to Rivendell. It was made of lace, which gave it a more ethereal and mystical look, and it was a classic wardrobe in Lothlórien. You slipped your current dress off your shoulders and carefully dressed in the one you would wear to the feist. After brushing and braiding your hair again, you were ready to join everyone.

As you went down the stairs to and walked outside where the feist was taking place, you could hear many people talking and soft music. As you stepped amongst everyone else, you noticed three elves playing the harp and two playing the flute, each equally separated from each other, as well as a flutist between each harpist. This made you smile, you always loved when things were well separated like such. As your feet led you to grab a drink, your eyes looked around, searching through every elf to find the one you wanted to see, but he was no where to be seen. Or so you thought, because as you grabbed your glass of wine you heard his voice.

‘’Well, I was not expecting to see you in such dress tonight’’

You smiled a bit shyly, hoping he wasn’t unhappy about your fashion choice.

‘’I felt this was the most appropriate way I could dress for such an occasion. Celebrating the arrival of spring is a festive day, and I felt that dressing in too heavy colors and fabrics would go against the meaning of the celebration’’

Elrond smiled and brought his glass to his lips, taking a sip of his wine.

‘’I agree, you made a good decision in wearing this dress, it’s very flattering’’

You thanked him and gently bowed your head to him, which he responded with an even wider smile.

‘’May I bring you elsewhere? There is something I would like to show you’’

‘’Show me?’’ you asked, a bit confused.

‘’Yes, I promise it is worth the sight’’

You were confused why he suddenly wanted to show you something, let alone be uniquely with you. Not that you never been in his company alone, but this was the first time he requested such thing.

‘’Well then, lead the way my lord’’

Elrond chuckled and started walking. While you two directed yourselves to wherever he wanted to bring you, Elrond couldn’t help but look at you, and how beautiful the dressed looked on you. By the same means, you were also looking at him, loving the color of his robe. He was wearing a light orange one, which is a color you rarely ever saw him wear and you definitely would tell him that it suited him, if you weren’t so shy around him.

You noticed that he was bringing you to the gardens, but through a hidden path. You were walking under trees which were blooming with their flowers, a few petals dancing in the wind above your heads.

‘’I never knew this path was here’’ you said as you looked around in awe at the sight.

‘’Very few people know of it, and I want it to stay that way, so that it’s more private’’

You nodded and he smiled. When you entered the garden, you saw immediately why he brought you here.

‘’I can’t believe it..’’ you said as you made your way to the hyacinths which were now in full bloom, earlier than their usual time.

You put your glass of wine down on a nearby rounded stone table and kneeled in front of the flowers, gently touching the delicate petals.

‘’Beautiful isn’t it?’’

‘’Magnificent’’ you answered, still not believing what your eyes were showing you.

Elrond watched you as you admired the flowers, and he smiled. Long has he been thinking of talking to you about his feelings, but he barely ever talked to you long enough to justify doing so, and he didn’t want to come forward and make things uncomfortable. But it was becoming harder for him, and he noticed himself trying to find any reasons to approach you. Today for instance when he saw you for the twelfth time of the day as he walked by, he stepped forward and reminded you of the feist. Mostly because he wanted to be sure that you would attend as he wanted to spend more time with you. And now, using the hyacinth as an excuse to steal you away from the others so that he could be alone with you.

Elrond put his glass besides yours and kneeled by your side. You turned your head as you saw his silhouette move and smiled as his knee rested on the ground. He smiled back and kept looking at you. Your eyes were shining so brightly in the moonlight, none of the stars in the sky could compare to those little constellations in your eyes, and Elrond fell even more in love with you. It’s in this moment that he knew he had to open his heart to you, and hope that you too would open your heart to him.

‘’(y/n)’’

‘’Yes, my lord?’’

You knew you could call him by his name, as he told you earlier today and a few other times before, but it felt wrong to do so.

‘’I have to speak with you about something, and I’m sorry if my words are unforeseen, but they must be told’’

You felt a ball form in your stomach and your throat tightened. Eru only knows what he was about to say, and you were nervous, terrified even.

‘’Y-Yes?’’ you stuttered, trying to stay calm.

Elrond took your hands in his and stood up, bringing you upwards with him so that he could look into those starry eyes of yours.

‘’I must confess that ever since you came here, I look forward to the next day, even more than before. I wake up in the morning thinking of one thing and one thing only, and that thought never leaves my mind’’ his hold on your hand tightened gently. ‘’You make my heart beat, meleth nín, you warm me and make me complete’’

You couldn’t believe your ears. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that Elrond, lord of Rivendell would have feelings for you.

‘’My lord..’’ you said, still surprised at his sudden confession. ‘’I can’t believe this.. Truly I can’t’’

You looked at your hands in his and then back at him.

‘’I never thought you would feel such emotions towards me, after all I’m just the daughter of a guard, I’m not of royal blood like you-’’

‘’None of these matters to me’’ Elrond quickly said, interrupting you. ‘’What I said, I meant it, I meant all of it’’

You looked at him again, his eyes were full of hope and it made a small smile draw on your reddish lips.

‘’My lord.. I feel the same way’’

Elrond smiled and brought your hands to his lips before giving a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

‘’Well then meleth, from now on please, simply call me Elrond’’

‘’I will, Elrond’’

[doodle-pops]

Hello! I'm back with a discovery I wanna share ˃̵͈̑ᴗ˂̵͈̑..

THIS

https://youtu.be/9PyDbAh1qBI

I'm not really a supporter of annatar x celebrimbor ship coz I'm still angry for what that bish did to my baby.. But this.. This cover.. This reminded me of them but while listening to this cover on repeat gave me an idea.. The troupe is kinda cliché but hear me out..

A bit of a backstory....

Sauron in a guise of a very beautiful elf/maiar named Annatar had his eyes on both Lindon and Eregion with a goal on earning the trust of those who reside there and their leaders, but much to his dismay, it did not go well to his plan as the King of Lindon, Gil galad himself had become wary of him so he moved onto his next target.. Eregion. Not only this place is full of talented smiths and a gifted lord who rules them all but what he also sought in this place is non other than the Lady of Eregion(insert reader), celebrimbor's wife who was known despite of her gentle eyes and pure bright aura, is a smart lady who also have a temper that can rival her husband's fallen grandfather has, she is also a seasoned warrior who fought during the first age. He had always wanted to corrupt this light that the lady has and take her from the start but for the lady, the mere thought of her betraying her kin for power and darkness that she believes will soon be extinguished by the light made her guilty, but what made him more angry is that a certain lowly elf who came from a family of kinslayer managed to crawl his way into her heart

"What a shame" he thinks as the lady had given up on all the fame, reputation, position she has to be a wife of someone who is lower than her. On his mind he can't erase the thoughts on the what ifs that could happen if only she had agreed his proposal and what could they have done with her wits and skills.

The moment he stepped into the beautiful city of Eregion, the lady already had a bad feeling about this so-called "Lord of the Gifts" that despite his bright aura and kind natured persona, something doesn't feel right but couldn't express it to her husband who is delighted and very pleased on this said visitor for what knowledge he would give them so she decided to keep silent and just observe at first..

But she would oh so regret not telling him that..

As the years went on quickly their friendship also grew, This Annatar is the one that he needs, the one who would give him knowledge and power tp craft something new, something much greater that will surpass his grandfather's beautiful gems and will bring greater good to everyone but because of his thirst for knowledge he unknowingly shut the people who deeply cares about him.. Galadriel, Celeborn, even his own wife. He is so focused on what he was doing that he missed all those stares that Annatar had given her.

Until he finally did, Celebrimbor finally opened his eyes on what is happening. The regret and self loathe he had felt for shutting them out and trusting a demon. But it was too late, yes he managed to apologize and fix things between him and his wife/friends, he also managed to make and distribute the three great elven rings to their respective owners. But he is not ready for this war.. To witness the fall of the city he built, his pride and people, but he chose to stand amongst them and defend but was caught, tortured and slaughtered in a inhumane way..

Sorry for that long intro so here we are...

She was angry, mad.. No.. She was enraged and depressed to see the state her husband is in. The soldiers of Eregion(also with the help of their dwarve friends) dragged their lady out despite showing her unwillingness under Celebrimbor's command to protect her. Now she was staying in imladris drowning in her sorrows and the image of her poor husband on her mind. Her friends tries so hard to comfort her and be her solace but despite all of this, it just can't erase this madness inside of her, this anger that she worries that would just erupt if she won't do anything so she had a plan..

Being a (bad bitch and petty woman) smart and cunning woman she is, she wanted to give sauron the taste of his own medicine. So she went to Lindon and discussed with the king, but as she expected he openly and angrily turned her down as her being hurt and dying was the last thing his late friend/cousin wants. But for some reason she had managed to make him agree after some time as he is already worried of Sauron and his powers and this is his last resort for a higher chance of victory (she may or may have not made a powerpoint presentation of this and literally bugged gil galad everyday to listen for the pros of this plan)

(And as I said because she seeks vengeance and also petty) As a young girl, she had always believed the words "Do not do to others what you don't want to be done by you" and her plan is simple. She had always known Sauron's interest in her and used it to his downfall.. She pretended to be weak and drowned with madness and with the help of Gil galad, she managed to pretend that she was now a criminal who took the lives of her own kin out of madness because no one decided to be on her side and that she had no choice but to depend on Sauron which made him glad as not only he had the power that he wants but he also manages to corrupt this lady in front of him.. This went on for years, seducing him, showing that he is only devoted to him, Sauron really thinks that he already had her submit to him and that he has her in the palm of his hands (for some reason she really like playing with fire haha you get it? Fire cause celebrimbor's feänaro's grandchild and sauron is dangerous? Haha well no? Nvm) until the battle of last alliance came and Sauron himself decided to betray her and use her for the last time when she just uno reversed him and told him that she is the one that is being played all along.

In the end when the ring was taken away from him, he realized.. That from the start he was already defeated.. That he was the one who played with fire

OMG SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG AND I GOT LAZY AT THE END I'M SO SORRYYY BUT YEAH I HOPE YOU GOT MY POINT.. I'm not really good with vocabulary as english is not my first language but yeah...

❛ ᗜ❛ ฅ

Don't worry, I'm personally not a fan of the Annatar x Celebrimbor ship at all. I never liked the idea of pairing them, especially after what happened. It never sat well with me.

But I liked this, the whole manipulation game between Annatar and reader mostly. To even attempt to go against Annatar at his own game was such a risky move, but I liked it 💕. Don't worry about your English love, I understood everything >.<

[shy-blue-blossom]

Protect

Galadriel/Celeborn

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were expecting their first child and couldn't wait to hold them. While they were thinking of names, a close friend of theirs had a little boy of their own.

A couple of months later Galadriel had given birth to their little bundle of joy. A nurse came in holding a small bundle of blankets. The nurse went up to Galadriel and placed the bundle into her arms.

"Congratulations, m'lord and m'lady, you have a daughter." The nurse told them.

They looked at the little girl in Galadriel's arms and a smile graced their faces as they saw her sleeping.

Time skip

It had been over two thousand years since then and the little elfling is now a beautiful h/c hair and e/c eyed she-elf. Her name, y/n princess of Lothlórien.

She was reading a book when she heard a song being played for a dear friend of her mother and father.

Gandalf.

Gandalf the grey.

She stood up and made her way down to her parents and saw them talking to Haldir, their friend's son.

"Nana, Ada?" She called to them and they turned to her.

"What's the matter the Iellig?" Celeborn asked her as he walked to her. (My daughter.)

"Why are you playing a song for Gandalf?" She asked them.

Before they could answer an elf came and asked for her and she left with them, but not before kissing her parent's cheeks. As she was following the elf they showed her the gardens, as they needed her help. She thanked the elf and they left her to think of a solution. She didn't notice the elf watching her as she thought of what to do.

"It's been awhile Lady y/n." The elf spoke.

She turned around to see the prince of Mirkwood standing behind her wearing a silver tunic. A smile made its way onto her as she stood up and ran to him. He caught her and hold her tightly s he smiled.

"Meleth nin, how I have longed to see you." The elf told her while pulling back to look at her face. (My love.)

"Me too, a'maelamin Legolas." She said while smiling up at him, her eyes tearing up. (My beloved.)

When they started to fall he kissed them away with gentle pecks. They talked about what they have been doing while apart.

"Meleth nin." Legolas suddenly spoke in the silent gardens. (My love.)

"Yes?" She questioned as she looked at him.

"I am to carry on my journey and before I do, I want to marry you." Legolas started. "I have already got your parents permission, but would you spend the rest of entirety with me? Would you marry me tonight?" Legolas finished as he looked into her eyes.

All that y/n could do was nod her head as tears began to stream down her cheeks as she jumped onto his lap to hug him. Legolas wiped them away as a light voice congratulated them. When y/n turned, she saw her mother and father.

"Ada, Nana, thank you." She thanked them, as they hugged her after she had stood up to hug them.

Galadriel and Celeborn watched them get married. Once they were, they spent the night together and woke up in each other's arms.

"Be careful on the journey and come back to me." Y/n said to Legolas as she helped him get ready to leave.

"I could never leave my one on middle-earth without me next to her." He explained with her face gently in his hands.

She nodded her head as she learned into his touch, with her eyes closed. When she opened them to look up at him, he was watching her with love and admiration. He put his forehead against hers and whispered...

"Gi melin. Uuma dela, av-'Osto. Elen sila lumenn omentilmo. Na lû e-govaned vîn." Legolas told her, which made a small smile make it's way onto her face. (I love you. Don’t worry, don’t fear. A star shell shine on our next hour of meeting. Until next we meet.)

"Gi melin. Aa'menealle nauva calen ar' malta. Tenna' ento lye omenta!" She whispered back. (I love you. May your ways be green and golden. Until next we meet!)

Legolas closed the space between them and gave her a passionate kiss before leaving. When she was left alone, she nearly broke down into tears. But she did not.

Y/n didn't realise someone was knocking at her door as she was to busy inside her head. She only noticed when her father stepped into the room.

"Ada?" She looked at him confused, as he looked at her with concern. "What is the matter?" She asked.

He explained to her that she had been in her room all morning and she had missed breakfast and it was time for lunch. Before he let her leave, he asked her if there was anything wrong. She explained to him that there was nothing wrong and that she had just been thinking about what has happened over the years and yet to come. Celeborn chuckled at that and led her to her mother.

The mother and father protected their daughter and they would kept doing so until their very last breath, they set sail to the undying lands, or she was reunited with her husband.

That is what they did.

When the one ring was destroyed, they took her to Aragorn's coronation to be with her husband. Once Legolas seen her, he had ran up to her and tightly hugged her. Aragorn was introduced to her.

Galadriel, Celeborn and y/n were then told of Haldir fall in battle. Y/n had cried, since she has seen him as an older brother. Galadriel had to take her somewhere else to calm her down,

"Iellig, why are you crying? Do you think your older brother would like that?" Galadriel tried to calm her told and y/n smiled when Galadriel had said Haldir was her brother. (My daughter.)

She shook her head no, then hugged her mother.

"Gi melin, Nana." Y/n whispers to Gardens as she was hugged back. (I love you, mother.)

Soon Celeborn came and found them hugging. He hugged both of them as he kissed their heads.

"Gi melin, Ada." Y/n whispers to Celeborn. (I love you, father.)

"Gi melin, Iellig." Both Galadriel and Celeborn whispers at the same time. (I love you, my daughter.)

The end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[ragingbookdragon]

There Is Always A Reason

Lindir of Rivendell x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Nothing, except sappiness maybe

Author's Note: Oh hey, I made a gay elf :) -Thorne

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Relationships of the same sex amongst elves wasn’t uncommon, but it also wasn’t as occurring as the opposite sex ones. The elves had noticed with more or less speculation that it was the humans who had a lack of more understanding when it came to relationships, but then again, if humans didn’t marry and produce heirs, their race would die out—for elves, copulation wasn’t necessarily a major issue as most only ever had two or three heirs. That being said, the elves welcomed love amongst their race, never shied away from the men and women amongst themselves having relationships or attraction to the same sex.

It was, exactly that that brought him to Rivendell from Lórien. A chance at seeing the attendant of Lord Elrond while he was on guard duty for Lady Galadriel, had set his soul aflame with desire. Of course, he had to get leave from the Lady of Light herself, who saw right through his excuses with a hidden, amused smile, knowing he was a youngling, trying to impress a new love.

I just think, perhaps having a messenger between Mirkwood to Rivendell to Lórien is a thoughtful idea, My Lady.

Yes, like the messenger we already have…doing the exact description you have described.

Oh…right…yes, that messenger. I had forgotten that we already had a messenger. You know, Lady Galadriel, perhaps it would be—oh who am I trying to fib? My Lady, I want to see Lindir. That’s why I want to go. I just…want to see him again.

I know.

You know?

I know.

Right…I often forget you can see far beyond our eyes.

I do need a message taken to Rivendell. This, to my dearest Arwen, a letter for only her eyes. And this one for Elrond. Make sure they get them.

I—yes, My Lady! Thank you, My Lady!

And that was how he’d managed to get back to Rivendell, somehow ending up training some of Elrond’s soldiers as well—he hadn’t become part of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn’s personal guard without skill. It was thorough and hard work, the elves of Rivendell hadn’t seen training like this for decades, perhaps centuries at least. With the threat of Sauron gone (mostly), what battle was there to fight except for the rare orc skirmish? He knew that Lord Elrond’s men enjoyed the challenge, he also knew they absolutely hated how ragged he ran them, pushing them to even the most extremes that their race could handle. It was only three days before half the group was begging for a day of relief, and he, seeing a chance at even speaking to Lindir, agreed.

He found Lindir underneath a plum tree, singing quietly to himself as he scribbled in his notebook. It was…a breathtaking sight, to see the beams of the evening sun haloing around Lindir’s crown, the soft look on his face half shadowed, brown eyes a stunning copper, gold flecks reflecting orange in the rays. He looked beautiful. And it was the weight of his stare that caught Lindir’s attention, hair standing on the back of his neck as startled and embarrassed eyes meet lovesick ones; Lindir, in a rush, snapped the notebook shut, snapping his mouth closed and stared at him while his cheeks turned crimson.

He fumbled with the words to come out of his mouth before he settled on, “I sincerely apologize, Lindir. I meant not to disturb you.”

Lindir swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, I was not aware that someone was here. Forgive me for not noticing your presence before, my Lord.”

“Don’t call me ‘Lord’.” He laughed, walking over to take a seat on the bench a few feet from him. “I’m simply a soldier.”

“Of high regard,” Lindir retorted. “Your father was Lord Celeborn’s right hand. You were raised in fashion similar to them.”

“Perhaps,” he said, shrugging his soldiers. “But I am no one’s lord. I am simply a soldier, as I said.”

“A good one.”

“Oh? You think so?”

Lindir cleared his throat, face hot. “I mean that I have simply seen your training as of late.”

“So, you’ve been watching?”

“Observing.”

“You could do more than observe, Lindir.”

At that, Lindir laughed in a rather surprised fashion. “I am not a fighter.”

“Oh, everyone is a fighter for something,” he replied, taking the chance to get closer to him by shifting from the bench to sit next to Lindir under the tree. “There is always something that will drive a person to pick up a weapon. Love, greed, pride, rage, grief. There is always a reason.”

“What of you?” he asked, tipping his head to the side. “What do you fight for?”

He paused, thinking deeply about Lindir’s question before he murmured, “Being a soldier is all I have ever known. It is what my father did, and it is what I was raised to do.”

“Haven’t you ever wished to do something else?”

His gaze met Lindir’s, and he said softly, “I have always wished to be someone’s one and only.”

Lindir’s cheeks tinged red again, but a rather enchanted look came over his face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. I sometimes think about laying down my duty and going with my lover across the land. Just the two of us. Traveling, experiencing things we have never seen or done before.” He smiled. “I eventually want to settle down by the water. A small cabin. Just big enough for us. With everything we need.”

“And your one and only…” Lindir started. “Has she decided to go with you?”

He blinked, looked over at Lindir, saw the hesitation in the elf’s gaze before he chuckled under his breath and replied, “Actually, he has yet to decide anything.” Lindir’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. “Most likely because I have yet to court him,” he added, scratching his jaw.

“This elf…at least an elf, I assume? Where is he?”

“Oh, he is in Rivendell. I managed to get leave from Lórien to come here just to see him.”

“Truly?”

“Well, Lady Galadriel sent me with messages for her family, but in all, I am here to court him.”

“Who is it?” Lindir asked. “Is it one of the soldiers you are training?” he seemed to think to himself. “That would make much sense if it were.”

He sighed fondly at the melodist before he rose and plucked a soft, pink, plum blossom from the branch of the tree, bent down and gently placed it behind Lindir’s ear, unable to help but trace the elf’s soft cheek as he pulled back.

“It is, in fact, not one of the soldiers I am training, but someone of much more esteemed company.” He smiled warmly at the look of pure shock on Lindir’s face that quickly changed into a giddy, almost flustered look. “I should retire for the evening though. I know training tomorrow will be much more difficult.” As he walked off, he paused, turned, and asked, “Lindir, would you like to accompany me on a ride tomorrow evening? Just the two of us?”

Lindir’s heart pounded in his chest, and he nodded his head, the corners of his lips rising into a smile. “Yes, I—I would love to.”

He smiled, nodded once, and replied, “Then I shall find you tomorrow evening. Until then, Lindir.”

[queenstarlight]

Imagine always wearing childish clothing and when a ball takes place you decide to wear a revealing dress insead of a cute one and the elves jaws drop

 (the first dress is a lolita dress and the second is a wedding dress, the wedding dress was the only decent thing I could find for what I had in mind)

[elithilanor]

Yo where’s the Celeborn thirst on this app? Like I’m not into him but I’m ace I have an excuse lol