#murder elf and golden poster boy

[dalliansss]

A grin spreads on Finrod’s lips. “I am thinking about it, then I remember your haru Mahtan, and his great red beard.”

“Oh?” Maedhros’s eyebrows shoot up curiously.

Finrod’s grin grows. “He sprouted his beard young, didn’t he? And you are nearing your third millennium of life, in the reckoning of the Sun and Moon.”

Maedhros begins to understand the joke. The beginnings of a frown scrunches his brow.

A peal of delighted laughter escapes Finrod. “You too will sprout a great red beard like Mahtan, I expect. Ai, how ugly! I will have to shave you myself!”

An outraged little mumble from Maedhros. He gently elbows Finrod. “Ai, stop! How dare you. Or have you forgotten that Ingwë’s father who got left behind in Cuiviénen also had a great golden beard? Haru Finwë told us stories. A great golden bush, he said. So, you aren’t safe! Silence, you!”

Finrod keeps laughing. It is the laughter he reserves for family and other intimate friends: ugly and snorting, like a pig. So unlike him at all. Or at least the facade he shows to the world. 

[lord greatbeard / Part 22 of Glissando / AO3]

[thegildedlady]

Was it a wise choice to slip away under cover of darkness, row to shore in a rickety old dingy, and risk being seen by Alliance do-gooders just to get a fresh drink from a real pub? No, of course not. But that never stopped Kordya before. The Merry Mogu had been at sea for so long, its Captain could barely stand the watery swill left over at the bottom of their ale kegs. She was unable to feel anything but excitement and thirst as she rowed over choppy waters off the coast of northern Kalimdor towards her destination. Whatever healthy dose of fear which kept humans from acting foolish was no where to be found within her, taken away by Sorae Storm's 'travel pass'. Kordya dragged her dingy onto gray, sandy shores and kept her eyes locked on the warm glow of candlelight in the distance. There was a Kaldorei inn just up the hill, and she eagerly started off towards it, unabashed and unafraid.

The open-air inn was nestled into the mountainside at the end of the world, its patrons few and far between. As she strolled confidently through the front door, a call board across the room with a very familiar face above the word "WANTED" caught her attention. She casually approached the board and inspected this latest depiction of her likeness. They always made her look like a deranged clown (which some would argue wasn't too far off). Kordya ripped the flyer down and crammed it into her coat pocket without much fuss. The two or three late-nighters hanging around didn't seem to notice. With a forced clearing of the throat and a smile, she plopped down on a barstool and folded her hands neatly before her. "Pardon me, buddy," she crooned at the back of the bartender's head, "but I'm mighty thirsty. I'll take the house brew, please!"

A lithe, purple elf with a thick mane of green braids slowly turned to face the smuggler. Kordya kept her gap-toothed grin on display until the bartender spoke, their voice burly and warm. "Coming up," he muttered. His hands were preoccupied with a dirty glass and even dirtier rag to polish it with, and he didn't break focus to get a good look at the new customer.

Kordya bubbled in her seat as she waited. Her crew would be fast asleep, none the wiser to the little late-night excursion she was taking. Sometimes it was easier to go alone than get the whole gang ready for a trip, and it made her a wee bit nostalgic for her solo days. Still, there were obvious benefits to having a crew to captain. The jobs they had been able to take on together were far bigger than anything she had yet attempted by herself. This next one would take the cake, if the winds would cooperate and get them to the ghost of the World Tree before Winter's Veil. She tapped her fingertips on the bar as she eagerly awaited her drink, and finally the bartender got to pouring. He sat the frothy, violet-tinted liquid in a dark wooden stein in front of Kordya with enough vigor to send a few drops sloshing over the edge.

"Enjoy," he forced out, not sounding very convincing. Before he turned back to his cleaning, the bartender's golden eyes got caught studying Kordya's face and the realization slowly began to dawn. The elf squinted at her and leaned closer to confirm his suspicions.

"Wait a moment..." he began, "You're that clown woman from the wanted poster."

"No I'm not," she replied.

"Yes, you are," he insisted. "You're a thief and a murderer. They say you killed a boy in a highway robbery."

"Well, they do say a lot of things, don't they?" She sipped the frothy beverage without a care in the world. Her casualness seemed to only irritate the bartender further.

"Get out of my inn, before I call the Sentinels, " he threatened. Kordya looked genuinely offended at the idea, and looked around to see what the rest of the bar's consensus was. The other three patrons stared at her with cold otherness. She was on her own here.

"Alright, alright," she started with her hands raised defensively, "I'm going, okay? Sheesh." Gathering her coat around her, Kordya huffed her way towards the exit. Before she could, the bartender grabbed her by the wrist with his large purple hand.

"Hey! You still gotta pay for that drink!"

Kordya met him with her flintlock pointed at his chest. "Oh, I do? I'm a thief, remember? Keep grabbing me and we'll find out if the rest is true." She cocked the pistol to prove she wasn't kidding.

The bartender stumbled back and away from the loaded gun. At the sight of the weapon the other patrons of the bar started to stand and draw their own, but Kordya was already halfway down the hill and onto her dingy before they could make reply. She grinned and felt the night wind and salty sea air sting her cheeks as she ran towards the sea. Had the single beer been worth it? Not really, but the thrill of almost getting caught was enough to make her laugh out loud and possibly try it again. She rowed all the way home, happily singing shanties as she went.

[daxionsunvale]

Profile:  Daxion Sunvale

Name:  Knight Master Daxion Alaunus Sunvale Pronouns:  He/Him Alias ( nicknames ):  Dax, ‘Ken Doll’ by some of his military buddies much to his dismay Gender:  Male Ethnicity/Species:  Sin’dorei / Elf  Age:  Elven equivalent of early 30′s Date of Birth:  September 23rd Birthplace:  Quel’Thalas Spoken Languages:  Fluent in all Horde and Alliance languages, knowledgeable in quite a few others! Romantic Preference:  Women Sexual Preference:  Women Occupation:  Knight Master within the Blood Knights, he’s also an ambassador and translator for them.  Also does a lot of freelance modeling, usually for clothing lines! Criminal Record:  Squeaky clean! Disorders:  PTSD, Depression Eye Color:  Very light green with golden flecks, while he’s using the Light they often take on a more golden hue. Hair Color: Sandy blond Height:  6′4″ Scars:  He has various scarring all over his body from years of battle, but nothing too prominent aside from the more recent one left behind by his liver transplant.  It’s a large upside-down Y-shaped scar that runs just below and along his rib cage on his stomach.     Overweight: Absolutely not! Underweight:  Nope! Color: Red, Gold, Yellow Food:  Steak is always a good option, meatloaf, beef stew, pot pies Drink:  Water!  For alcohol he’d go for a good whiskey. Candy: He’s rather fond of sour things Had sex: Yes     Had sex in public: Absolutely Kissed a Boy: Yes   Kissed a Girl: Yes Gotten Tattoos:  He has tattoos of shoulder pauldrons on both shoulders in the Blood Knight colors (red and black) with the Blood Knight symbol on both of them. Gotten Piercings: Nope Smoked / Drank / Done Drugs :  Smokes occasionally, more often while out on the field.  Drinks regularly but tries to avoid this while out on the field.  Thistle on *very* rare occasion, drug testing is a thing! A Cuddler: If he is comfortable with that person then yes. A Kisser: He loves kissing! Scared Easily: No       Jealous Easily:  Occasionally Trustworthy:  Absolutely      Considered Mean:  To those under his command, probably a little.  To civilians, absolutely not! Harmed Themselves:  Yes Thought of Suicide:  Yes Attempted Suicide:  No Wanted to Kill Someone: Yes Have / Had a Job:  He’s been military in some fashion his entire life, so yes! Siblings:  Older brother, Adryion - Deceased Fears/Phobias:  Never being good enough, Chronomancy Parents:  Adryion Sr. and Alavea both died in the scourge attack, his biological father Talonoa is still alive and well!  @talonoa

Guilty Pleasures:  Smoking for sure, especially right now! What they would be famous/infamous for:  He rose in rank very quickly among the Blood Knights and he’s not planning on stopping anytime soon!  Given he’s an Ambassador, he’s often one of the ‘faces’ of the Blood Knights for when business needs to be done or war needs to be discussed.  You’ll also see his face (and body) in a lot of clothing ads in magazines and posters around Silvermoon - he was ‘discovered’ about a decade or so ago and a little extra income is never a bad thing! Character(s) you ship them with:  His love life is a hot mess right now, there are a couple interests, but no ships.  We’ll see how it all goes! Character most likely to murder them:  @gaebral Talents and/or powers:  Very strong in the Light offensively and defensively!  He’s rather adept in a variety of weapons and various forms of hand to hand combat (thanks to Talon).  He’s excellent at boxing and free climbing as well and is one of the top competitors in the Azerothian Ninja Warrior. Why someone might love them:  He is an absolute gentleman (most of the time), who says chivalry is dead?  Polite, well-mannered, funny, charming, kind, compassionate - on the outside he seems like the perfect man.  His dashing good looks help a lot too:  Jawline for days, perfect smile, muscled body...there’s a reason he’s nicknamed ‘Ken doll’. Why someone might hate them:  I’m not sure anyone would hate him, other than the obvious enemies he meets on the battlefield.  Perhaps he can be seen as too lawful good for some. How they have changed:  The PTSD has gotten SO MUCH WORSE, especially after that whole timelock incident in Suramar last year.  He hides it exceedingly well and does what needs to be done, but that internal struggle is starting to rear its ugly head.  Also his wants in life have started to shift as well, at first it was all focused on military, now he’s seeking to improve his personal life more and more. Why you love them:  He’s my knight in shining armor and he’s just a all around really good guy.  No ulterior motives, he just wants to do what’s right and make the world a better place.

Tagged by:  @dicenne Tagging:  @laurel-shadowfury @selysona-wra @talonoa @camliristarfallen @kavtari @bluexepher @viceofalltrades @kharrisdawndancer

[dalliansss]

And so Maedhros and Finrod continued to push east, taking their time, as both of them were skilled travelers and loved to explore the world around them, which had been their wont in the days of their golden youth back in the Blessed Realm. Bound not by society and responsibilities except to each other, they passed season after season crossing Eriador, until at last they came upon the Hithaeglir.

Commissioned artwork from @naarisz

Spectacular inking and coloring, commission them if and when you can!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[dalliansss]

He is aware Maedhros is watching him critically. It has always been a sore point in their long-standing relationship – their differing religious views. They have given each other what accommodations there can be had, but since receiving instruction from Ulmo, Finrod has known that this might be an area of friction between himself and Maedhros. 

“You do not have to obey everything the Valar say, Ingoldo,” says Maedhros. He keeps his tone diplomatic. Courteous. 

“Yes, but how long do you think this Peace will hold, melda?” Finrod turns to him, as he hands him his bowl. “You cannot surely believe Morgoth will lie in quiet forever, even if our lives be long.”

Maedhros takes the bowl from his fingers. He sets it aside, then his strong hands close in around Finrod’s waist. He pulls Finrod onto his lap. Hugs him there. 

“Send Angrod instead,” Maedhros reasons. “You and Aegnor can hold Ladros and Dorthonion. Mm? It can be like Orodreth when you sent him to Minas Tirith.”

“Nelyo, it has to be me,” Finrod says. “I will not venture too far. Thingol has told me at least about some caverns by the Narog, and I will have to look at it, see if it suits the purpose–.”

“Narog!” Maedhros exclaims. His hold around Finrod’s waist tightens. “What the– not too far, you said? The Narog is halfway across Beleriand, Ingoldo!”

“Well,” Finrod says, opting to keep his tone light, aiming for the diffusion of Maedhros’s building temper. For like his brothers, Maedhros has the infamous Feanorian temper too – it is just not as quick to explode, and it can be stalled, using the right one, the right timing for a soft touch, here and there. “It will be good for us both – Caranthir already accuses us of taking too many of our trips and doing nothing but fucking, so…?”

[before you leave /AO3]

For @elentarial

[dalliansss]

❛ i don’t know how you’ve bewitched me, but it needs to stop. ❜

With Maedhros/Finrod?

darker vibes

Silver-gray eyes follow every movement Finrod Felagund takes. Currently the King of Nargothrond is standing some five steps away from the one who scrutinizes him -- Finrod is busy inspecting the food laid out by the servants a few minutes ago. With a bejeweled hand he removes dish covers, letting out steam and the aromatic scents that tickle the senses. He makes appreciative noises as he peers at each dish for about five seconds, before he returns the dish cover over the food item.

Maedhros Fëanorion has mixed feelings with purely elven or mannish food these days -- an aftermath of his long captivity in Angband. He appreciates elven dishes just the same, of course, the textures and flavors and aromas, but there are days when he just wants raw meat, the bloodier the better. His appetite has tripled since his 'rescue' from Angband, yet his body remains the same. The healers have said his captivity affected his metabolism.

Finrod turns in a swirl of his Telerin skirt (white and red, today, with a belt of pearls), his golden hair dancing. Maedhros's pupils widen, and the simple sight to him is a vision. Hooks to his soul, and every gesture tugs at him. Even if the gesture is decidedly simple in itself, like Finrod tilting his head, or Finrod toying with his dangling earrings, or Finrod turning to him with a smile.

"I don't know how you bewitched me," Maedhros says, awe and adoration in his voice. "But it needs to stop."

A softer laugh is the King of Nargothrond's answer. He turns from the table completely now, walking toward him. He is barefoot in his own chambers -- but then, he runs around barefoot most of the time. Maedhros stays where he is, feels his throat go dry just a notch. Finrod is standing right before him.

In a rustle of cloth, Finrod sits himself onto his lap. Maedhros has his hands immediately by his sides. He smells very good. Vanilla and musk, or some sort. Fuck if Maedhros knows. He doesn't. Once Finrod sits on him like this or goes closer than an arm's length away, Maedhros finds eighty percent of his brain function goes out of his ears, in all directions.

(When did this happen?)

"You, my lord, have been bewitched long ago, back in Valinor. I'm afraid there is no hope for you. All my pretty fingers are curled around your fëa, and there is no escape," Finrod tells him, chuckling as he goes.

"Yes, this is the truth," Maedhros answers, half-dazed. He looks into those very blue eyes -- the very sky of high summer, forever preserved in Finrod's eyes. And his hair is the zenith of lost Laurelin's golden-most hour. His hair is the stuff of legend, truly. The name Findaráto was aptly given.

(Beside him, Maedhros feels like an orc.)

"Now, now," says Finrod, leaning in, pressing his perfect lips to Maedhros's torn earlobe. "You have not been in Nargothrond a while. Getting you out of Himring to visit me is a feat for the Valar! Ai, I hope you know that I will make sure I collect my due, as long as you are here with me, melda...~"

Maedhros feels a shudder ripple down his spine.

[dalliansss]

For Secret Dating Things:

Accidental clothing share ~ Finrod/Maedhros

Secret Dating Things

Findaráto normally did not think much whenever he would dress for council. He would open that part of his closet which housed his Noldorin clothing, and he would pull out of it the first tunic he would lay his hands on, and from there build the rest of the look for the day. He does the same thing that morning -- open the closet, snatch something (something of chocolate brown hue), survey it, and then accessorize to match.

His golden hair he styles with two braids streaming up from the side of his face, then he pulls his locks into a ponytail. Accessories as follows: silver and garnets, with matching drop earrings to match -- three on each earlobe. Rings, two on each alternating finger.

Perfect.

He walks to the palace; loathe to bring horse or carriage -- and anyway walks are fun, and lets him greet many people and run into his friends, which he absolutely delights in. What is originally a ten-minute walk from his house to his grandfather's palace turns into an hour-long affair. Oops.

Findaráto picked up a basket of fruits to share with those present in the council. He likes to nibble now and then, and he finds himself easily hungry especially if they're looking at an intense day. His Atar used to forbid him to eat, nagging at him that it looks bad, as if he was not being fed at home. But Finwë never minded, and so Findaráto stopped paying heed to Arafinwë's protests.

Finno is already there, seated and sorting papers. They exchange greetings just as Findaráto puts his basket of fruits at the middle of the long table. He picks out a perfectly ripened dragon fruit and sets it on the empty plate by their grandfather's place at the head of the table.

"You two are early," comes a familiar voice.

He turns around only slowly. Surprise on his lovely features -- he and Nelyo are wearing the exact same tunic: same cloth, same cut, same pattern -- only different accessories. They look startled. Finno's eyes dart from one to another, before he bursts out laughing. Nelyo laughs as well, and Findaráto laughs too.

"Did you two plan this via ósanwe?" Finno snickers as he helps himself to a pear from Findaráto's basket.

"Ah, no, no," Nelyo continues sniggering. "I should change, I should--." He gestures vaguely toward the door.

Findaráto shakes his head. "Oh no. No, no. Let's make grandfather laugh today, shall we?"

But between their minds, another conversation takes place. Mmmm, you look beautiful, Nelyo croons at him. You too. I'd delight peeling off that tunic from you later, Findaráto purrs back.

Finno, ever perceptive, darts a glance between the two of them again, but says nothing. Oh he knows, though. He knows.

@antares0606

[dalliansss]

I’m going to be mean…

"I don't know if I can forgive."

Finrod/Maedhros

50 Angsty Prompts || @elentarial

Snow fell around Himring, dusting the world in white. Many white flakes settled upon Maedhros's fiery red hair, and upon the dark fur he wore over his oiled cape. Funereal colors, Finrod often told him -- for that day he wore black furs, and deep indigo clothes beneath the chain mail that was always required to be worn here in the north, where the threat of combat was ever present, and all elves must be ready to spring into action on a short moment's notice. His ears are cold too, particularly the tips, but after his time in Angband, the cold very rarely touches him these days.

Before him, Ingoldo is a contrast in silver, white and gold. Snow dusted his golden curls as well. They stood beside each other, neither elf making a move to close the short distance between them. In another time, in another place, so easy was it to reach across that seemingly infinite gap, and just pull the other into an embrace.

(But they had not been those elves who thought nothing could go between them.)

"What was his name?" Maedhros asked, nothing but slight curiosity in his tone. "Balan," Finrod replied, his eyes riveted to the white world of Lothlann. "I hear you granted him an epesse." "Yes. Twas Beor, for his loyalty." "How old was he, this Balan, when he died?" "Ninety-three."

Quite a while for the Secondborn; mere minutes to an elf, especially an elf who grew up and got old under the radiance of Valinor.

"He kept you happy, I hope," Maedhros continued. "As happy as can be. There were many fights." "You were always fiery in your own way, and those who think you are naught but kindness do not know what they are dealing with." "But I am not here to talk about Balan, Beor," Finrod said, turning to face him. His cheeks were flushed rose by the cold. He had sprouted a few freckles too, across his nose. Maedhros let his silver-gray eyes wander on those beautiful features.

"Then talk," said Maedhros.

"I wanted to talk about us," said Finrod, urgency creeping in his tone. Pleading, in his eyes. He reached-- but instinctively Maedhros took a step back, and this gesture, small and insignificant, could be likened to the Lord of Himring threatening to strike a blow.

"You want to talk about us, because Balan is dead?" Maedhros pointed out succinctly, a lopsided but cold smirk quirking his scarred lips, making his face a ghastly mask.

"I was not the one who began pushing away," Finrod said, his voice rising. "You pushed me away -- and would not even do me the respect of an explanation. I would have accepted it if you had found yourself preferring a Sinda, I would have tolerated it, I would tolerate many things, melda! You do not get to shift the blame on me! You do not!"

"Then you would lie with someone who has been violated by the Enemy?" Maedhros now spat, shifting his words into Quenya.

Ah. Yes. Finrod looked stricken, then horrified. As if Maedhros finally enacted the blow he would not, and struck him anyway. He wavered, a little, where he stood. He flung out a gloved hand to clutch at the snow-dusted part of the rampart. Maedhros made no move to reach out to him.

Finrod let out a shuddering exhale. "And so there it is," he says this also in Quenya. "Out in the open at last." He shut his eyes tightly, and his tears froze as soon as they crept out from beneath his eyelashes. Dusting his lashes with snow.

"I would not have shunned you because of it, melda," said Finrod. "I don't know if I can forgive you thinking that low of me. How dare you. I would have--"

White-hot dagger pain in the chest, and Maedhros relished the hurt. A beast Angband made out of him. Half-elf, half-monster. One who relished pain, even if it was his own hurt. This hurt that lances through him unseen, from the maw beneath his rib cage, all the way to his fingertips.

"I would have endured with you, whatever filth it was you thought," Finrod whispered. "I would have cast myself into the deepest pit of Utumno with you, if it was what it took. I still would. Even now. I hate you, but I would. I would."

A breath. Two. An exhale.

In a rush of silver, white and gold, Finrod wraps his arms around his neck.

"You will not get rid of me," he whispers. "You will not. Ever."

But all I want is for you to live, and sail back West, Maedhros thought, and he remained immovable as the fortress upon Himring, enduring against the dark.

[dalliansss]

Oohhh "I thought we agreed we wouldn't cross that line" with maedhros/finrod?

"I ACCIDENTALLY TOLD YOU I LOVED YOU AND NOW WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT" PROMPTS

Context: Right after the events in this STORY.

Nelyo moves around the room, conscious. He is aware Ingoldo's gaze is nailed on his person, and as he picks up his discarded pair of breeches, he cannot quite decide if the scrutiny is welcome, or not.

Somehow, for all of his age over the younger, golden-radiant elf, he is now feeling shy and nervous. He has not fumbled so for a long time; he has not been in his thirties for a long while.

He pulls his breeches up long, long legs, and he turns to Ingoldo, who's sitting in bed still, looking at him expectantly.

What have we done is a petulant question. He knows -- and he knows that Ingoldo knows what they have done; after all, it was Ingoldo who initiated this -- who came into his rooms in the dead of the night, wrapped only in a blanket. The little minx knew, somehow, that Nelyo would not be able -- that it would be impossible to resist him.

(And Nelyo remembers, again, that long realization he has had years ago, one summer in Formenos. His heart settled first, followed by his mind, and he nursed this flame, knowing nothing would come of it -- forgetting that the realization is a two-way road for the Eldar, and it would come upon Ingoldo too, sooner or later.)

He buttons his breeches. "Come here, Ingoldo."

Letting go of the blanket, Ingoldo complies, and he crawls toward the edge of the bed. Nelyo feels another impossible frisson of desire he almost trembles.

His right hand's fingers thread through Ingoldo's tousled golden hair, and he cups a perfect cheek, brushes his thumb on kiss-bruised lips.

So radiant. So golden. His.

"You know what the other side of this line entails," he states, his voice soft, never accusatory.

"I know," is Ingoldo's reply, and blue eyes snare Nelyo's own silver-gray ones in an impossible trap.

And a trap he is, isn't he, Ingoldo? A sweet, golden cage nothing shall escape. Nelyo knows this in his bones. He will kiss the ground this one trods on, if he asked.

"I will go first," he continues. "So it will not look suspicious. Nobody will come to your room?"

"None."

"Good."

"I'll see you?" Ingoldo asks, catching him by the wrist.

"Of course you will."

Mischief in those blue eyes. Lips part, and a quick, pink tongue flicks against the pad of Nelyo's thumb.

(Oh, how heat lances through him. Burning, melting, all-consuming heat.)

@curumeaningwitch

[dalliansss]

Love Paradise Prompts:

Commenting about the overpowering smell of sunscreen/mosquito repellant that the other constantly uses - Finrod/Maedhros

love paradise - summer vacation scenarios for your otp

Maedhros was minding the cookfire. Earlier that afternoon he'd successfully hunted deer, and they were going to have quite the delectable supper, because deer was a specialty of his, and Ingoldo not so much well-versed in cooking this game meat. Already he has some of the meat simmering in a herby soup, nothing too hearty, and he adds some more fragrant greens in there, and the aroma is simply to die for.

At least, until Ingoldo sits beside him holding what looked like a small pot of ointment. His beloved cousin removed the cork stoppering the pot, and out came the stench of citronella, so strong that even the fragrant scent of his cooking weakened.

Maedhros felt his eyebrows rise. "What is that? Why does it smell like that?"

Ingoldo, though, is already smearing some of the white concoction down the bare skin of his arms. "What do you mean what is it? Mosquito repellent, of course."

"Why does it smell like that?" "What do you mean? I love the scent of citronella." "You smell like the lavatory at grandfather's palace with too much scented oils." "Ai! How dare! Rude! I-- what the-- what do you mean I smell like the-- Manwë's flattened nose!"

He gives Ingoldo a small, playful shove. "Get away from me. That repellent smells so strong you'd be smelling like those oils for days!"

Finrod glares at him, pouts mightily, and hugs his right arm like a petulant elfling. "If I smell bad, then you're smelling bad with me, ai!"

Another playful shove. "Get off, Ingoldo. I won't be cuddling you when you smell like one of Yavanna's Ents. Make your own bedroll or else rinse that off, and you'll be using my mosquito repellent instead. It's unscented and does the trick. Eesh."

A grumble. Ingoldo lets his arm go, and, still grousing, goes to the nearby river to attempt to rinse off the ointment from his arms.

@antares0606

[dalliansss]

Description: A collection of Maedhros/Finrod stories, from Valinor, Beleriand and beyond.

Notes:

Timeline isn't fixed per story; I write whatever inspires me at that time. Stories jump from place to place and timeframe to timeframe as a result. Most of these stories are also written following Finrod's POV.

Stats: Words: 18,442 Works: 6 Complete: No

[dalliansss]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Finrod Felagund | Findaráto & Galadriel | Artanis, Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Maedhros | Maitimo, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Maedhros | Maitimo, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Finrod Felagund | Findaráto Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Galadriel | Artanis, Elrond Peredhel, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Ereinion Gil-galad Additional Tags: Second Age, Númenor, Eregion, Lindon, Finrod has a lot of pent-up anger, some comeuppance for Galadriel, where WAS she really?, excited Elros, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No beta we die like Carcharoth, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Angst, Sad and Happy Series: Part 10 of Glissando Summary:

Galadriel locates Eregion, but finds no welcome there. Across the sea in Númenor, Elros Tar-Minyatur receives good news.

[dalliansss]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Maedhros | Maitimo Characters: Finrod Felagund | Findaráto, Maedhros | Maitimo Additional Tags: Angry Sex, lovers’ quarrel, Jealous Finrod, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Making Up, keep your scholarly works away from Finrod, Cousin Incest, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No beta we die like Carcharoth, Valinor, Years of the Trees, Violent Sex, Violent Thoughts, Angry Kissing, Violence Series: Part 9 of Glissando Summary:

Across the room Ingoldo throws the last of the torn parchment into the fire at the hearth, and the younger elf dares turn to him with all the smugness of a young, pampered, spoilt and beautiful lesser prince who had no real responsibilities and expectations.

--

This was written for @skaelds and @antares0606

Very great fun to write a much younger, brash, reckless, jealous and volatile Finrod alongside a Maedhros who has barely grown out of his own reckless tendencies. 😘

[dalliansss]

My commission from the very talented @rinthecap 🥰🥰🥰

“My Sassy Elf” 😂😂😂

[dalliansss]

My comics commission from @cochart 🥰🥰🥰

Context: of peace and tits