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earthlybeam · 1 day ago

Note

If your requests are open could I request how Elrohir, Glorfindel, and Elrond would react to a reader who is a really good singer? Like, hearing them sing for the first time by accident. No pressure!

Elrond, Glorfindel, Elrohir version below. Enjoy my dears ❤️‍🔥🫶✨

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

It was a quiet afternoon in Rivendell, and Elrond sat in his study, the soft golden light of late afternoon filtering through the tall windows. He was lost in thought, his mind focused on the ancient texts spread out before him. The world outside seemed distant, the rustling of the trees in the breeze barely reaching his ears. He had a tendency to shut out distractions, especially when immersed in the weighty matters of Middle-earth’s history and its future. His sharp gaze skimmed the pages, his fingers tracing the lines with deliberate care, when suddenly, a soft, melodic sound broke through his concentration.

At first, he thought it might be a breeze carrying the faintest echo of a song through the trees. But no… it was a voice—clear and resonant—rising from the private gardens below, where the fountain played its gentle rhythm. Elrond’s brow furrowed slightly, his attention shifting away from his study as he listened more intently. There was something different in this voice, something that seemed to reach deep within him, pulling his thoughts from the ancient past and into the present moment.

He stood from his desk, his movement smooth and quiet, and approached the large balcony doors, which overlooked the lush, tranquil gardens. Opening them softly, he stepped out, the cool air brushing against his face. From here, he could see you standing by the fountain, your figure illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. You were unaware of his presence, your focus entirely on the song you were weaving into the air. The melody was unlike any Elrond had heard before—rich, pure, and filled with an emotion he could not quite place. It was as if the very air around you had come alive, resonating with the power of your voice.

For a moment, Elrond simply stood there, entranced. His centuries of wisdom and experience had never led him to imagine such beauty in a simple, unaccompanied voice. It was not the kind of song one heard every day; it was the kind of song that seemed to speak of forgotten things, of lost worlds, of an ancient power woven through each note. His heart, usually steadfast and unshaken, fluttered with an unfamiliar sensation—a mix of awe and something softer, something he had not felt in a long time.

He had known your many talents—your intelligence, your compassion, the way your words always seemed to touch the very heart of matters—but this… this was something different. It was as if the very soul of Middle-earth was singing through you. A part of him longed to hear more, to know the depths from which such a voice came. And yet, there was another part of him, quieter and more reserved, that could not help but be protective, sensing the vulnerability that such a beautiful song carried.

He stepped closer to the edge of the balcony, unable to pull himself away from the sound. His heart stirred as the song reached its final note, leaving a profound silence in its wake, as if the world itself held its breath. You finished, and only then did Elrond step forward, his voice breaking the quiet. “You sing as the stars themselves might sing,” he said softly, his words filled with an almost reverential tone. “I did not know Rivendell’s gardens held such magic.”

You startled, turning to see him standing there, his tall form framed by the open doors of the study. His gaze was intense, as always, but there was a softness in his expression that you had never seen before, a rare vulnerability. He was quiet for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you, before he spoke again. “I did not wish to interrupt… but your voice—its power—is undeniable. It is as though you have called forth something deep within the earth itself.”

You could feel the warmth of his gaze on you, and there was a subtle shift in his posture, a tenderness beneath the stern exterior that you had grown so accustomed to. In that moment, you could sense that Elrond, for all his wisdom and strength, was taken aback by the sheer beauty of your voice. It had stirred something within him, something that perhaps even he was unprepared for.

There was a pause before you spoke, your voice still a little breathless from the song. “I… I didn’t realize you were there,” you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… intrude.” Elrond’s lips quirked ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, soft smile. His gaze never left you, filled with something that was difficult to place—a quiet admiration. He had never expected to find you here, in his private garden, alone and singing as though the melodies of Rivendell had taken root in your very soul.

This space, reserved for moments of solitude, reflection, and peace, was a sanctuary he rarely shared with anyone. Yet here you were, unknowingly filling it with something far more powerful than he could have ever anticipated. “You did not intrude, not at all,” Elrond’s voice was warm, carrying an unspoken reassurance. He stepped forward, crossing the small distance between you. “This garden… it is a place of peace, yes, but it has never heard a song like yours.”

The sunlight shimmered through the branches of the trees, casting soft shadows across the garden floor. The air around you seemed to hum with the lingering power of your song, an invisible echo that wrapped the entire space in its quiet magic. Elrond’s gaze softened, his heart still stirred by the raw, untamed beauty you had so effortlessly woven into the stillness of his sacred space.

He took a step closer, allowing the distance between you to close, his presence now filling the small garden. “And as for intruding,” Elrond continued, his voice gentle, “I suppose this garden is not just mine anymore, is it? I never imagined I would be so fortunate as to share it with such a voice.”

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, it was as though the space between you both disappeared, swallowed by the sincerity in his words. There was no formality now, no lordship—just the quiet truth of two souls in a shared, unexpected moment. “Perhaps,” you said softly, feeling a warmth spread through you, “it was meant to be heard.” Elrond’s eyes softened even further, the faintest glimmer of something deeper shining in them. “I think it was,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound reverence.

“It is not often that Rivendell is graced by such a gift. I must confess, I was unaware of the power you hold within you, my… my heart.” The last words, though quiet, were heavy with meaning, a reflection of how deeply your song had moved him. You met his eyes, surprised at the depth of emotion you found there—something profound and personal, yet tender and open. Elrond, despite his usual composure, seemed to be standing before you not as the wise and distant lord, but as a man, deeply affected by the quiet strength of your voice.

For a long moment, the two of you simply stood there, the gardens stretching out before you both. The song you had sung still lingered in the air, and the light of the fading day seemed to grow even softer, as if the world itself had paused to listen. Finally, Elrond spoke again, his voice quieter now, more intimate. “I will never tire of hearing you sing,” he said, his words a promise, a truth. “You have a rare gift, one that will echo through these halls long after we are gone.”

You didn’t need to say anything in reply; the depth of the connection between you both was already spoken in that shared silence. Elrond, standing before you with the gentleness of the night wrapping around you both, would never forget the way your voice had stirred his heart and the way it had forever changed the quiet moments in Rivendell.

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

Glorfindel was finishing his training session for the day, his muscles aching from the rigorous exercises and sparring. The sound of his weapons clashing and the sharp breath of exertion were familiar companions, but today, as he packed away his gear, something else reached his ears.

A soft, melodic sound drifted from the gardens outside—the voice of someone singing. At first, it was faint, as if the wind itself were carrying the notes toward him. He paused, the scabbard in his hand stilling as he listened. The voice was not loud, yet it was captivating, and there was something about it that made the air around him feel different—lighter, as if a distant joy had woven itself into the breeze.

Curious, Glorfindel set down the last of his training equipment with quiet precision, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the door that led outside. His steps were silent on the stone floor as he moved toward the garden, the soft rhythm of your voice growing clearer with each step. He didn’t recognize the song, but there was a beauty in it, a deepness that resonated within him, stirring something quiet in his heart.

As he stepped outside, he saw you there, standing in a patch of sunlight, unaware of his presence. You were leaning against a tree, your eyes closed as you sang with a calm and serene grace, your voice intertwining with the rustling of the leaves and the distant flow of the river. He didn’t want to disturb you, so he lingered at the edge of the garden, his hand resting gently against the stone archway. He hadn’t meant to intrude, but something inside of him—something deeply rooted—urged him to remain, to listen just a little longer.

You had been lost in the rhythm of the song, the words flowing effortlessly from your lips, your heart light, the melody carrying you to a place where nothing else seemed to matter. Singing was something that came naturally to you, something you had always done when you wanted to feel connected to the world around you. Yet, you hadn’t expected anyone to hear—least of all him.

Glorfindel marveled at the purity of your voice, the way it seemed to dance on the air, as though every note was a brushstroke on an invisible canvas. It was a sound that spoke of beauty, of a quiet strength, and of an unspoken truth. He stood there, transfixed, his usually steady demeanor softening in the presence of such a powerful, tender gift.

When you reached the end of the song, the last note lingering in the air like a sweet, fading whisper, Glorfindel couldn’t hold back any longer. He stepped forward, his presence gentle but unmistakable. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as he came into your line of sight. His usual commanding presence was softened by the genuine admiration in his gaze. “I did not mean to intrude, but your voice… it is unlike anything I have ever heard.”

You froze at the sound of his voice, a soft gasp escaping you as you opened your eyes. There, standing before you, was Glorfindel. You had not noticed him at all—hadn’t realized anyone was nearby. Your cheeks flushed as your heart began to race. The very idea of someone like him hearing you sing made you feel suddenly self-conscious. The song had been a private moment for you, a way of releasing everything that had been weighing on your mind. Now, it felt as if something delicate had been exposed to the light, vulnerable in its truth.

Glorfindel approached slowly, his heart still racing from the unexpected beauty he’d just witnessed. There was a warmth in his expression, a brightness in his eyes that matched the gentle light of the garden. The usual stoicism of the elf lord was replaced by something more vulnerable—something real. “You sing with a grace that seems to stop time itself,” he continued, his words wrapped in respect and awe. “It is as though you have called the very stars to listen.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t been prepared for such praise, especially from someone like him. His words were like a balm to the nervous fluttering in your chest, but also like a gentle weight, urging you to accept the unexpected compliment. You gave him a small, unsure smile, still not quite sure how to respond.

“I must admit,” Glorfindel chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve heard many things in my long years, but nothing quite like that. Rivendell has seen many talents, but yours…” He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. “It is something truly extraordinary.”

You blinked, startled by the genuine admiration in his voice. The self-consciousness that had gripped you slowly began to ebb away, though a faint blush still lingered on your cheeks. “I… I didn’t know anyone was nearby,” you said, your voice soft, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Disturbed me?” Glorfindel’s smile was warm, reassuring, as he shook his head. “No, quite the opposite. It is a rare thing to hear such beauty. You have a gift, one that should never be hidden.” His voice dropped slightly, almost a whisper, as he added, “I would be honored if you’d sing for us again… anytime.”

The gentle breeze stirred the leaves around you both as a silence fell over the garden, one that felt peaceful, intimate. Glorfindel stood tall, the usual seriousness of his bearing replaced by a gentler, more approachable presence. He had never been one to shy away from battles or great tasks, but in this moment, with you and your song, he found something almost as powerful—something that reminded him that beauty could be just as brave, and just as worth protecting.

You felt your heart warm at his words, a deep, quiet joy blooming in your chest. There was something reassuring in his gaze, something that made you feel like your song, this piece of you, was not something to be ashamed of. It made you want to sing more, to share more of that hidden part of you with him.

For a moment, he felt a quiet joy in his heart, knowing he had just discovered something wonderful about you—and, perhaps, about himself as well. It was a connection unspoken, but felt deeply, as he gave you a smile filled with nothing but sincere respect and admiration.

“You have a voice,” Glorfindel continued, his tone light and filled with the same warmth, “that could bring peace to the hearts of even the most troubled souls. And I, for one, am honored to have heard it.” You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in them, and something inside of you relaxed, as if for the first time, your gift had been truly seen. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a little more at ease. “That means more than you know.”

His eyes sparkled with a playful hint of mischief. “Perhaps one day, you might sing for me again?” It was a simple request, but one that carried a weight of admiration, and a quiet hope that this brief, unexpected moment would blossom into something more. With one last glance at the peaceful garden, Glorfindel turned slightly, his gaze lingering on you before he slowly began to walk away, his voice carrying back to you one final time.

“I’ll leave you to the garden, then. But remember—there is nothing wrong with sharing your song. The world could always use more of it.” And with that, Glorfindel disappeared back toward the heart of Rivendell, the echo of your song lingering in the air, and a smile still gracing his lips. You stood there, the words of his praise still echoing in your mind, and for the first time in a long while, you felt as though you had found a place where your voice truly belonged.

⭐️𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓻

Elrohir did not mean to linger. He had been walking the forest paths alone, needing some time to think after sparring with Elladan—a match that had gone longer than usual thanks to their competitive streak. The trees offered solace, their branches whispering above him, and he let his steps fall silent, his keen ears tuned to the faint rustlings of life around him. It was then, as he rounded a grove near the stream, that he heard it—a voice, rich and golden, weaving through the air like sunlight breaking through the canopy.

Elrohir froze, caught off guard by the melody. It was haunting yet warm, a bittersweet hymn that tugged at the edges of his heart. The voice was not Elvish—at least not entirely—but the words held a timeless quality that reminded him of ancient songs sung in Rivendell during his youth. Quietly, he stepped closer, his breath hitching at the sheer beauty of it. He found himself drawn toward the sound like a moth to a flame, his usual stoicism betrayed by the wonder etched on his face.

You had thought yourself alone, lost in the act of singing while gathering herbs by the stream. The song was one your mother had taught you long ago, and it often escaped your lips when you were deep in thought. The forest seemed to embrace your voice, the leaves trembling as if in applause, and the rhythm of the stream harmonizing with your melody. You were unaware of the figure standing in the shadows behind you, watching with rapt attention.

Elrohir couldn’t help himself. He stepped forward, and a twig snapped underfoot. You gasped and spun around, clutching the bundle of herbs to your chest, your song dying on your lips. “Elrohir!” you exclaimed, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t know anyone was here.” He raised his hands, as if to calm you, though there was an uncharacteristic softness in his gray eyes. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I did not mean to startle you… or to intrude. But your voice…” He trailed off, as though he couldn’t quite find the words. “It is unlike anything I have heard before.”

You blinked, unsure if he was mocking you, but there was no teasing smirk on his face. Instead, he looked almost reverent, as if your singing had awakened something within him that even he didn’t fully understand. “It’s just an old song,” you said, shrugging, though you couldn’t entirely hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think anyone would hear.”

“I am glad I did,” Elrohir said, stepping closer. His movements were deliberate, his usual confidence tempered by an unfamiliar hesitance. “Your voice carries a depth… It speaks not only to the ears but to the heart.” Your face grew warmer at his words, and you glanced down at the herbs in your hands to avoid his intense gaze. “You flatter me,” you murmured.

“I do not,” he insisted, his voice suddenly more resolute. “Do you not know the power you hold? That song… it was more than beautiful. It was alive.” You glanced back up at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. Elrohir had always been composed, a warrior with a dry sense of humor and an almost unshakable demeanor. To see him like this—awed, almost vulnerable—was something you hadn’t expected.

“I… I’ve never thought of it that way,” you admitted softly. Elrohir studied you for a moment longer, as if committing this moment to memory. Then, a faint smile curved his lips, and he bowed his head slightly. “Then let me be the first to say it. Your voice is a gift, one that rivals the stars themselves.” Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, the tension easing between you. “You’re a poet now, are you?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, a touch of his usual dry humor slipping back into his tone. “But only when inspired.” For a moment, silence fell between you, the kind that wasn’t awkward but charged with something unspoken. Elrohir reached out, his hand brushing against a leaf on the branch nearest to you.

“Would you sing again?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “If not for yourself, then… for me?” You hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze, but the earnestness in his eyes banished your doubts. Nodding, you set the herbs aside and took a breath, letting the melody rise once more. Elrohir stood still as stone, his heart swelling with each note.

The song wove through him, unearthing memories and emotions he had long buried. In that moment, he realized he would never forget this—your voice, the forest, the way the sunlight danced on the stream as you sang. When the final note faded, he found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he simply stepped closer, his hand brushing yours in a gesture that said more than words ever could. You glanced up at him, your smile soft but knowing, as if you could hear the unspoken promise in his silence. For the first time in years, Elrohir felt at peace.