#neither does parenting Elrond and Galadriel

[gauntletgirlie]

Time to change that your Highness 😏

[imagines--galore]

||Love Happens||

Summary: As the youngest daughter of the House of Rivendell, Annúneth has lived a sheltered life. Though that does not stop her from meeting the Prince of Greenwood. And though they start off on the wrong foot, there is one thing that neither of them can deny. 

And that is sometimes, Love simply Happens.

Pairing: Legeloas x AnnúnethOC (Hobbit, LOTR)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None

A/N: This is for @siriuslydestiny​ and @lovelyxkazuha​ Hope you enjoy your request! And this is for @entishramblings​ who hasn’t been feeling the best lately! Also this story takes place AGES before the events of the Hobbit. So Mirkwood is still called Greenwood! And Thranduil isn’t as uptight : P

It was not often that Lord Elrond lead a Hunting Party. But both his sons were away traveling, and he wanted to be sure that no lingering Orcs or Goblins would happen upon Rivendell by accident.

What he had not expected, on the journey home, was for his Hunting Party to instead become a Welcoming Party to the King of Greenwood himself.

“Thranduil, we did not expect you for another week.” Elrond called out as a way of greeting his old friend as he dismounted his horse. Thranduil offered a slight smile in return. “The weather was favorable, and the enemy few. I also wanted to put to rest the rumors of your hospitality as soon as possible. See for myself whether what I heard was truth or not.” The two Elven leaders gave a respectful tilt of the head before grasping each other’s forearms in a greeting one soldier gave another.

Elrond simply smiled in response. “You shall be the judge of that, melon nin. But for now, let us return to Rivendell together. I am sure both our arrivals are anticipated by our comrades.”

Quickly mounting their horses once more, the two Elven Leaders urged their mounts forward, their respective parties following after them.

“How fare your children Elrond? Is your youngest Arwen residing with you, or is she with her grand-sire in Lothlorien?”

Elrond gave a secret smile at the mention of Arwen being the youngest, but made no move to say anything. “She is indeed in Lothlorien, finishing the last of her studies with Galadriel. The twins are leading an expedition to the North. I have yet to hear from them, but last I received a letter, they were in high spirits.” Elrond turned his head towards Thranduil.

“And what of your son Legolas? I have not seen him yet. Did he not come with you?” A sigh fell from Thranduil’s lips, one that Elrond was all too familiar with. It was the sigh of a parent who was at their wit’s end with their child.

“He is here, but he insisted on taking the longer route. Some nonsense about seeing new sights and such.” Thranduil shook his head, not understanding the need his son had when it came to exploring. “He shall be joining us on a later day. Perhaps tomorrow.”

During their conversation, the Parties had reached Rivendell, blowing horns to announce their arrival as they did. It was truly a sight to behold, a marvel of elven architecture and design. Every aspect was flawless, the House built around nature, spacious windows and multiple rooms open to the elements.

As they crossed the bridge Thranduil could not help but comment. “Though I much prefer the Woods of my home, I must say Elrond, you have indeed taken care of your home all these years. It is just as when I first laid eyes upon it when I was an elfling.”

Elrond smiled in a polite manner. He knew Thranduil, knew that the King hardly gave compliments outright. This was to the best of his efforts. He did feel a sense of pride, as their horses cantered across the bridge and towards the main platform where several elves were already waiting to greet them. “I thank you for your kind words Thranduil.” He said as he dismounted. “But for now, let us change and reconvene for dinner. I am sure yo-”

“Ada!"

The cry rang loud and clear from the top of the stairs, cutting off whatever else Elrond had to say. The assembled Elves spun towards the source of the sound. A figure revealed itself. The skirt of their dress lifted to their knees, pale legs and feet bared to those standing below, bright golden hair flowing behind her, unbraided and free. And even from afar one could see a simple silver circlet resting on her forehead.

Lord Elrond's entire demeanor changed from a reserved elf and leader to that of an overjoyed parent, as he held his arms open in greeting, a smile on his lips.

"Annúneth!"

The elleth launched herself into her father's arms, holding him close, her face buried in his chest. Elrond returned the embrace just as lovingly as it was given. The Elves of Rivendell smiled fondly at the display of familial love. King Thranduil and the rest of his party looked on in slight surprise at the golden haired elleth who was now gazing up at her father, relief yet slight concern evident on her delicate features.

"You were not harmed, were you Ada?" She asked, her voice soft and light. The elves started to move, taking the horses to the stables while the guests stood where they were. Elrond shook his head, resting a hand atop the soft head of gold locks, so like her mother's.

"As you can see I am quite alright my dear Yelde. You need not worry about me." The elleth shook her head in response.

"I shall always worry when you leave Ada. As will Arwen, Elladen and Elrohir." Her gaze finally shifted from her father's familiar features to the newcomers. Elrond followed her line of sight. Keeping one arm around her shoulders he smiled at Thranduil.

“Thranduil, may I introduce you to my youngest, Annúneth.” He gently pushed his daughter towards the King. “Annúneth, this is Thranduil. He resides as King over Greenwood and is a dear friend.” The King towered over the elleth, but that did not deter her from meeting his graze briefly, before lowering into an elegant curtsy, her eyes dropping to the floor for a brief moment as she did. 

“You honor us with your presence King Thranduil.” She said, her voice ever polite and ever gentle. The older elf tilted his head in return. “And you surprise us with yours, Lady Annúneth.” His gaze shifted towards his friend, who was trying his best to hide his mirth. “Considering we were not made aware of it.”

Annúneth glanced at her father. “I shall leave Ada to explain his reasoning for I am sure he has an extensive list.” She cleverly stated, stepping away from her father’s embrace. Her grey eyes shifted to the rest of the assembled elves of Greenwood Annúneth lifted her head, her shoulders back as she addressed them.

In the blink of an eye she had morphed from a loving daughter, to the Lady of the House. And with her Mother having sailed to Valinor, and sister presently absent, the task did fall to her.

“Brothers and Sisters.” A look of surprise passed each elven face when she spoke in the tongue of their forest, Silvan. “On behalf of my father, Lord Elrond, Protector of Rivendell, I, his daughter Annúneth, welcome you to our home. Please follow me so that I may guide you to your rooms where you can freshen up before we all sit down for dinner. Your horses will be taken care of.”

With that the golden haired elven maid turned. When before she had been racing down the stairs, this time she seemed to glide along, leading the eager elves to where they would be residing during their stay at Rivendell.

Leaving a proud father, and an elven King who was seldom surprised and impressed.

And for once, Thranduil wasn’t loathe to admit that he was both.

                                             ————————–

“Will you now reveal to me the secrecy behind your youngest daughter’s existence Elrond?”

The wine hadn’t even been poured, the doors barely shut when Thrandul had demanded answers. Despite years on Middle-Earth, it would seem patience was one virtue his friend had no desire to perfect.

Thank the Valar he had enough for the both of them.

Pouring the wine, Elrond held the delicately wrought cup towards his friend. “It is a rather long tale my friend.” He stated, gesturing towards a pair of high backed chairs where he would usually conduct lessons with Annúneth. Thranduil, having taken a sip, sat down, watching as Elrond sat next to him. There was a brief moment of silence, as Elrond drank his wine.

Then he spoke.

“Celebrían and I were blessed and content with our three children. We had thought surely Valar did not seek to bless us again. But then we were wrong.” Elrond smiled as thoughts of his youngest daughter filled his head and made his heart swell with fatherly affection and love. “We were blessed with Annúneth in late Autumn in the year 1805.”

Thranduil raised a brow. “That is quite a long time to conceal the birth of an elven child Elrond.” He said, to which his friend nodded. “I agree, but it was her grandmother who insisted that we keep knowledge of her existence a secret, and tell as few others as possible.”

A frown creased his forehead as he pursed his lips, hands clasped around the stem of his wine glass. “We were not aware of the reasoning behind Galadriel‘s decision, but we did not question it. The only people to know of her existence were our family, a few other elves and, of course, Gandalf. No one outside of Rivendell, save her grandparents and Gandalf even knew of her.”

Bringing the glass to his lips he took a sip, gathering strength for what was to come next. “Then Celebrían was captured by Orcs and held captive for days.” His heart hurt even after all these years. The horror his beloved had to endure, the torture those monsters and inflicted upon her. “It was Annúneth who found where she was. She too possesses the gift of Sight. Yet hers only works when she is asleep, and is more concerned with present events and what outcome they might have. Through her intervention, the twins were able to save their Mother from a truly gruesome death and return with her.”

Thranduil frowned. “But then why hide her away? Why not use her gift to change the future as we see fit?” He asked, leaning forward as he awaited Elrond’s answer. The Elf Lord raised his eyes to meet Thranduil’s and the latter was surprised to see the utter sorrow and despair that was clear within his grey eyes. “The dreams she sees, my friend, they cause her unbearable pain. The night she had the dream about her mother dying, Annúneth was near inconsolable. She could feel her mother’s pain. And not just the physical strain.”

His eyes widening in realization, Thranduil felt a strange feeling akin to protection rise within him as he thought of the young elleth experiencing something truly grotesque and unmentionable. “You hid her away.” He said, his voice low. “So she would not meet people, so that she wouldn’t dream about them.”

Elrond nodded. “That was my intention when she was younger. But now, under her grandmother’s guidance, Annúneth has truly gained control over her abilities and has come further then I could ever have hoped.” The pride was evident in his tone as he finished his wine and stood. He paused at the window, having spied a familiar golden head, so like her mother’s, drifting by. Sometimes, when he looked outside his window and saw her, he mistook her for her mother.

Out of all his children, Annúneth had inherited her mother’s beautiful golden hair. Perhaps the reason her grandparents doted upon her so was because she reminded them of their own daughter.

“And are you willing to share your daughter with the world?” Thranduil asked, as he came to stand beside his friend, looking down at the elleth as well. Elrond laughed softly. “If I had my way, I would keep her hidden away from the horrors of the world.” He said truthfully but then he shook his head.

“And yet, I cannot keep something beautiful from the rest of the world. That would be truly selfish of me.”

                                            ————————–

Perhaps preparing a basket for a picnic that would happen in the morning wasn’t the best of ideas. She could always do that tomorrow, yet Annúneth found herself too excited to sleep. Instead, she had made her way towards the kitchen and lined up several baskets along the shelf, to be filled with all manners of eatables to take for the picnic tomorrow.

Her father had permitted she show their guests the beauty of their home, and she had suggested the meadows nearby. It was Spring, and the flowers would be in bloom. And since she had never had the chance to share her home with anyone else, Annúneth was eager to show their guests everything. Already she knew them all by name and was on her way to making friends with most of them.

Humming a long forgotten lullaby under her breath, Annúneth sifted through the jars of honey, trying to get the biggest ones from the back, where she kept them hidden away from her brothers. They had a tendency to go through honey as if it would run out and they would be left barren. Shaking her head at her brother’s obvious gluttonous nature when it came to any sweet concoction, Annúneth continued her task.

However, a sudden noise had her stilling in her movements.

She had been rummaging through a shelf that was partially hidden from the rest of the kitchen, yet gave her a full view of the room. And since she did not light a candle, choosing to work under the light of the moon, Annúneth was completely hidden in the shadows.

The sight of a hooded figure moving about the kitchen had her drawing a silent gasp.

Not a guest, for why would they sneak about wearing a hood?

A thief perhaps?

The figure moved about, inspecting the basket before taking out one of the loaves of bread Annúneth had placed within a few moments ago. From a young age, her brothers had taught her to be wary, and though it did not deter her from being the open and friendly elleth that she was, it did help her in drawing on suspicion when the situation called for it.

And presently, it did.

Her eyes darted around, to see if she could use something as a weapon. Silver grey eyes landed on a heavy pan. As quietly as she was able to Annúneth took one off, gripping the heavy handle between delicate hands. She would’ve preferred her sword, but since she didn’t have it on her, using the pan as a weapon to defend herself, if need be, would have to do.

The figure’s back was turned to her, and she could make out the soft sound of chewing as they ate the bread.

Providing Annúneth with the perfect opportunity to step out of her hiding spot, the frying pan swinging through the air.

                                            ————————–

He had not expected to return early.

Or rather so late.

It would seem everyone had retired for the night, and since Legolas and his few companions had not entered from the main entrance, their arrival went unannounced. Something that he preferred really, since he had no desire to make pleasantries.

At least not until he had eaten something.

While his companions took care of the horses and moved off to search for the rest of their party, Legolas made his way towards the kitchen. He knew Rivendell well enough to navigate his way through the dark and towards the empty kitchen. He kept his hood up, not wanting to be recognized by his hair. A rather unusual color even amongst elves.

Catching sight of the several baskets that were lined up neatly on the counter, the young Prince paused, a little curious at the arrangement. His growling stomach, however, didn’t give him much time to contemplate on it. Moving forward, he peered into one of the baskets, and seeing a loaf of bread within, pulled it out. Tearing off a piece he began to chew, enjoying the milky taste that was infused within the bread. Strange, yet not at all bad. Or perhaps he was simply too hungry to complain.

The unsuspecting elf was simply enjoying his meager, yet delicious, meal when the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. His eyes widened, he dropped the half eaten bread he held. Pivoting on his feet, and seeing the descending pan aimed towards his head, the Prince threw his hand out, catching the hand that held the handle and stopping it midair.

And not a moment too soon, since the pan stopped just a few inches shy of his temple.

                                            ————————–

The two figures stood motionless, their gazes locked.

The sudden pivot of his head had the hood of Legolas’s cloak slipping from his head, allowing his assailant to meet his eyes without the shadow of it obscuring their vision.

Annúneth had to tilt her head back to meet the stranger’s gaze. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest as she allowed her eyes to take in the rest of the stranger’s features. Then again, she was not the only one occupied in such a manner. Perhaps it would not have been wise to think of the stranger as handsome, despite the dirt that marred his face, and yet, she found herself thinking along the words regardless. Though that did not mean her resolve to hit him, should he be a threat, lessened.

To say he was surprised at the ferocity his assailant seemed to exude would be an understatement. Legolas was taken aback by the strength he had to use, just to keep the elleth’s choice of weapon knocking him unconscious. She was strong, of that he had no doubt. And yet, the fierceness did not take away from the beauty that was her face. Not to mention her hair. A halo of pure light that seemed to cascade down her back in rivers of gold.

A twitch of her arm had him returning to this current predicament.

“Why do you attack me?” The stranger asked in her mother tongue, his grip on her wrist not loosening. A good thing, Annúneth supposed, since she would’ve hit him. A scowl creased her forehead as she responded. “Do I not have the right to defend my own home from a vagrant vagabond such as yourself?”

Blue eyes blinked. “Vagabond?” He repeated, and Annúneth could see that despite the wariness in his expression there was amusement there at her choice of word.

The both of them were still locked in position, with Annúneth’s arms raised above her head, fingers grasping the handle of the pan. However, both of her wrists were being kept in a firm grip by Legolas. Remembering what her brothers had taught her, Annúneth pivoted on her feet, throwing her shoulder out to try and knock the elf off his feet, or at least surprise him to let go of her wrists.

Which he did, allowing Annúneth to raise the pan in front of her as a makeshift weapon. “Make yourself known, lest you wish to be thrown out.” She stated, her voice firm and sure. Even as her grey eyes flickered to his hair. A color that looked vaguely familiar, yet somehow, she could not seem to place where she had seen it before.

Despite the weariness that wore down on him, and the fact that he should end the confrontation by simply telling her who he was, Legolas paused. Her referral to him as a Vagrant Vagabond had been amusing, and he wanted to hear what else she would say about him. “And if I wish to keep my identity a secret?” He asked, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he picked up the bread he had dropped and placed it behind him on the counter. “Will you truly throw me out in the cold? Come now, I had heard tales of the hospitality of the elves of Rivendell, was it all simply a myth?”

As he spoke, Legolas began to walk, prompting Annúneth to take a step as well, and without the either of them realizing, they began to trace a circle with each step they took. “We offer hospitality to those who use the front door like civilized beings, not steal in, in the dead of the night.” She responded, her words sharp and clear, grey eyes never wavering from the figure. It disconcerted her, how ill at ease he appeared to be. Perhaps he had been here before? But then she would’ve met him.

Legolas paused briefly to pick up a bushel of grapes from a fruit platter and began to eat it. “I am not civilized, is that what you mean?” He asked, speaking around a mouthful of grapes, and not bothering to wipe some of the juice that traced from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. A happy accident that only seemed to strengthen Annúneth’s opinion of him. “You look as if you took a tumble down a hill, straight into a river of mud, before purposefully step into every piece of dirt you could find.” She responded, prompting the stranger to glance down at himself.

“I do not look that bad.” He responded, looking a little put off, to which Annúneth smirked. “You have leaves in your hair.” She deadpanned.

Legolas ran a hand through his hair, and sure enough, a few wayward leaves fluttered to the floor. He grimaced. Perhaps her wording of him had been correct. “Since that is the case,” He muttered to himself, before pausing in his steps. Turning so he could look at the elleth, the young Prince tilted his head in a slight bow, a hand over his heart, his gaze trained to the ground. “Pray will you not show this Vagabond the kindness he does not deserve My Lady, and allow him a place to clean and rest.” His posture stayed the same, but his gaze lifted to meet her own from across the room.

She may be a wary young elf maiden, but she was not without compassion. His words, nay the honesty in his eyes, had her lowering her arms, the pan now hanging at her side. “And how can I be sure, that you are not here to hurt my family or my home?” She asked, unsure how he would reassure her of that.

Legolas straightened, hand hand still over his heart, and something deep within him compelled him to say the next few words. “You have my word, My Lady. While I walk these halls, no harm shall come to your home, your loved ones.”

His gaze held hers.

“Or you.”

                                            ————————–

Call her a naive fool, but she took his word to heart.

And had found herself leading him towards one of the empty rooms where the rest of the guests were staying. She was acutely aware of his presence beside her, as she navigated through the darkened hallway with ease. While Legolas had to force his eyes to stay straight ahead, since they seemed to have developed a habit of straying in Annúneth‘s direction every now and then.

Sooner then he would’ve liked, they came to a stop in front of a door, which she gestured for him to enter, with a delicate sweep of her hand. Legolas, stepped forward, his resting hand on the handle. But then he paused. 

Annúneth, who had turned around without a word, intent on walking back to her own room, had paused as well.

Even now, as she walked to the private dining hall where breakfast was being served, Annúneth felt a strange tremble run through her body, as the memory of last night played in her mind.

They had both looked over their shoulders at one another, their gazes meeting and despite the late hour, Annúneth had never felt more awake then she did in that moment, standing there in the presence of the stranger. While Legolas found himself wanting to stay in her presence, despite the fact he did not even know her name.

And before he could even ask, she had walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I see you have seen to grace us with your presence Sister.” Elladan called as Annúneth entered the room, closing the door behind her as she did. She smiled as she approached the table and took a seat beside her father. “Not all of us have the luxury to come straight down to breakfast as soon as they are awake Brother.” The younger elleth responded, quickly leaning forward and kissing her father in greeting.

Tilting her head in greeting in Thranduil’s direction, Annúneth turned to break her fast. As the siblings squabbled, teased and argued throughout the meal, Elrond barely batted an eye as he ate, his plate being filled at least twice by his daughter without his knowing, since he was busy speaking with Thranduil. The elf-king, however, noticed everything, his sharp eye and keen ears picking up on everything.

Noticing, in particular, the extra seat that had been placed beside him, that remained empty.

Clearly Legolas had slept in, tired from his late arrival.

Shame, he had wanted his son to make himself known to their hosts during his presence.

                                            ————————–

The picnic Annúneth had planned, set out once breakfast was over. It was only an hour’s ride to the flower meadows that was teeming with woodland creatures of all manner. The grass was tall, as were the flowers, the animals quite tame, used to the elves who would come to visit from time to time.

The place was something of a sanctuary for Annúneth, and she was more then happy to share it with her guests. They dismounted from their horses, set them loose to wander about and soon everyone began to do the same.

Fingers skimmed over flowers. Trees were climbed and branches used as perches. Deer were petted and stroked. Butterflies were chased and admired. Flutes were played, and harps were strung. Food was shared and eaten. A few voices rose in song, gentle and soothing.

And in the middle of it all, Annúneth sat alone amongst the tall stalks, with only the top of her golden head visible, with a pretty flower crown adorning her forehead, her hair unbound, her face aglow.

Her delicate fingers worked on making another flower crown. While her own was made using flowers of varying shades of yellow, the one she made presently comprised of flowers that nature had shaded with a certain blue hue.

A blue that reminded her of a certain stranger.

As was the norm, she was humming under her breath, sometimes singing along with the rest of her companions, content in her task.

That is until someone decided to join her.

“We meet again.” His voice came, familiar and yet unknown at the same time. Without looking up from her fingers as she twined the flower stalks, Annúneth responded. “You are within the vicinity of my home. It would’ve been strange if we did not meet again.”

He laughed. The sound strangely melodic, or at least to her ears. An odd comparison, yet it made sense. She still did not look at him. “Are you still going to treat me as the vagabond you believe I am?” He asked, to which she responded with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “If the shoe fits.” Humming in thought, as if contemplating on how to make her see that she was wrong, Legolas reached out to pick one of the blue flowers she would be using for her crown and twirled it between his fingers.

“I have done my best to appear presentable. Will you not look to see if it is so?” There was simply something about her, that prompted him to get a rise out of her somehow. Be it in a positive or negative light. It was rather unlike him, to be vying for the attention of an elleth in such a way. And yet, he found he could not help himself.

Setting the finished crown in her lap, Annúneth pursed her lips. Valar, he was being more persistent then her brothers. And that was saying something.

Still, she turned her head, a few wisps of her hair waving gently in the breeze, partially covering her lips and nose, though she made no attempt to push them back.

The previous night, when she had seen him, Annúneth had seen past the dirt and grime, and had seen the handsome face beneath. Somehow, his face appeared different then it was. The night before, he had appeared mysterious and alluring. Perhaps an effect of the moon? That must be it, for in the sunlight, he appeared calm, at ease and............free.

And just as handsome as he had the night before.

Perhaps he should have braced himself before he had asked her to look at him. Because while she was taken aback by him, he certainly felt his very heart stutter in his chest as those piercing grey eyes lifted to meet his gaze. While the moon had made her hair appear almost silvery last night, the morning sun showed its true golden beauty.

As the breeze blew, gentle and slow, the two elves found themselves simply sitting there, looking at one another. Caught in some spell that neither of them had cast. Or at least not consciously.

“Have I....passed your judgement?” He asked, his voice low, to which she responded with a slight tilt of her head, the action just barely noticeable. “It will take more then your charming attributes to earn my trust.”

Slowly, as if afraid that she were a dream that would fade should he startle either himself or her, his hand lifted, fingers curling along the soft strands of her hair. The tips of his fingers skimmed along the warm skin of her cheek, slowly tracing a path towards her ear, where he tucked the wayward wisps of hair.

All so he could see her face fully.

“Then perhaps I should strive harder to win it.” He said, and if anyone were to hear the conviction in his tone, they would have no doubt of his intention to do just that.

Annúneth felt her very breath stall, and had to force herself to keep her eyes from fluttering shut, just to savor the sensation of his touch against her skin. This was so strange. How could a complete stranger, one she deemed rude and a vagabond, have such an intense effect on her?

His blue eyes seemed to be speaking to the very depth of her being, and it did not make her feel vulnerable. On the contrary, she had never felt more.........safe. Which was a rather rare occurrence given her gifts.

Her lips set in a gentle smile that was just barely there. “I look forward to seeing you put in the effort Vagabond.” The elleth lifted the flower crown she had finished, and carefully set it around his head, admiring how the blue petals matched his eyes perfectly.

Her fingers accidentally grazed his temple as she pulled back. Legolas stilled, his eyes widening a fraction as a warmth raced through his body. One that engulfed his entire heart and simmered just there under his skin, a pleasant sensation that he would be reliving for the rest of the day.

Annúneth felt the shift in the air between them, prompting her to return her hands to her lap, lest she find herself unconsciously tracing his features, an urge she felt rise within her the more they sat there, looking at one another. Truly whatever spell had been cast was quite a powerful one, for the only way it was broken, was a voice calling out to Annúneth.

Breaking away from his gaze, Annúneth called back to whoever had said her name.

“Annúneth.” She heard him say, startling her into realizing that it was the first time her name was uttered in his presence. “Is that your name?” He asked, to which she raised an eyebrow. “Considering I responded to it, it would not take a particularly sharp mind to realize that it was.”

Unlike before, there was no sharpness behind her words. Just a simple, playful teasing lilt of her voice that had him smiling at her. “And now that you know my name.” She continued, oblivious to the way he was smiling at her. “It is only right that I should know yours.”

She glanced over her shoulder, waving at whoever had called her, informing them that she would be with them momentarily. “Legolas.” He said, once she had returned her gaze to his.

Unbidden, his name rose to her lips. “Legolas.” Rising to her feet, Annúneth tilted her head at him playfully, the flower crown still adorning her head. “I hope your stay at Rivendell will be a pleasant one.”

With that she turned and walked away, leaving him, and missing the words he whispered. Words that were lost to the wind. “I believe it already is.”

                                             ————————–

“Elrond, I have been patient enough and I believe it is time I tell you my true reason for coming here.”

Having been expecting such a conversation to come up soon, Elrond responded with a nod and a gesture for Thranduil to take a seat beside him. He was in his study, going over a manuscript Gandalf had brought him while passing through Rivendell. “I believe I am aware of what you speak of.” He said, shutting the leather bound book and setting it aside. Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“So you have seen it I presume.”

It was more of a statement then an inquiry, but Elrond still nodded.

Since he possessed the gift of foresight, it was not surprising one of his children should inherit a semblance of it in some way. Though while Annúneth shared all that she would see in her dreams with her father, Elrond did not share much. At least not when his visions pertained to his children.

And he had had one such vision. Of Annúneth. His beloved sunshine.

“As a father I have been dreading this day.” He spoke, looking towards the wall where several portraits hung. One of each of his children. His gaze was focused on the elleth with golden hair and expressive grey eyes. “But I know as well as anyone, that no matter what, we cannot change what is predestined.”

Thranduil too followed Elrond’s line of sight. For a moment a stab of pain echoed through his very soul, as he was reminded of the Queen he had lost so long ago. His beloved.

“No, we cannot.” He muttered, thinking of all the ways he had tried to save her from her gruesome fate but had failed. “But I give you my word Elrond.” The two elven patriarchs turned their heads, knowing a solemn vow was to take place.

“I shall take care of her, as if she were my own.” Thranduil vowed.

If Elrond was willing to agree to it, then surely his own son would have no qualms about the arrangement. After all, Elrond would not send his beloved daughter to a place where she would not be loved.

“It would seem the joining of our two houses has been inevitable.” Elrond said with a sad smile. “I wish I could say that I was happy about it, but in truth, my heart is torn, for one day Annúneth will leave Rivendell. Leave me.”

The Elven King shook his head. “I have no desire to take her away from you anytime soon Elrond. What the both of us have spoken of, I have no intention of speaking to my son about it for a while.” Though he had a reputation of being cold and heartless, Thranduil did have a soft spot for his only child.

And now, it would seem, Annúneth was beginning to make room in his heart as well.

“I was gifted the chance to find love, as were you.” Glancing in the direction of Annúneth‘s portrait, Thranduil continued. “I want to give our children that same gift.”

Smiling, Elrond nodded sagely. “I will have to write Galadriel and Celeborn of your intention, but I agree. Let us see what fate has in store for our children. I believe there was a rather interesting interaction between them only a few nights ago.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, curious to know what had occurred. Elrond smiled.

“They are not aware of who the other is, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I am able.”

It was rare for the Elven King to laugh out of amusement, for he rarely found reasons to be happy. And yet in that moment, the sheer absurdity of what had occurred as Elrond recounted it, had him throwing his head back and laughing.

                                             ————————–

Annúneth had never been one to shy away from people.

Even when she was younger, and barely had any grasp on her abilities, she would still wish to sit amongst others and converse, or sometimes just sit and listen.

The occasions where she wished to be by herself were rare.

But then sometimes, there were nights of dreams and nightmares that would weigh heavy on her mind. So many fates of so many people morphing together and overwhelming her, body and soul.

And this was one of those nights.

She sat awake on her bed, arms resting atop her knees where she had pulled her legs to her chest, her gaze listless as she stared at the open windows in front of her, the soft gossamer curtains fluttering gently. No matter how hard she tried, the visions would not leave her alone. For years she had trained with her grandmother as well as her father, to try and contain her abilities.

Not suppress them. They could never be suppressed. The visions she had of all those she met was just as involuntary to her as breathing. Sometimes, she would get visions that would show her the joy that particular being was feeling in that moment. But then there were times when all she experienced was heartache, pain and fear.

And this was one of those nights.

It would seem a few elves she had met a decade or so ago were to be slaughtered by a band of Orcs. Yes, she could send out a raven to warn them, but what if it was already happening. What if she were too late?

Hence the reason for her being awake so late at night, with her heart heavy and her mind made up to avoid company for a day or so.

For reasons unknown to her, her mind conjured the image of a certain vagabond. And that image only solidified in her mind’s eye, chasing away the remaining clouds of despair of the visions she had just seen. She frowned, biting her lower lip as she slid out of bed. Quickly changing into a simple dress and, as was the norm for her, choosing to be barefoot, the elf-maiden stepped out of her room, into the empty hallway, and made her way towards her sanctuary.

The thought of Legolas keeping her company.

                                             ————————–

He could not find her anywhere.

Legolas had walked the entirety of Rivendell and had been unable to locate Annúneth. Worry was beginning to gnaw at his chest. He knew she was not out riding for her beloved horse was in the stables. And there was no hunting party or picnic planned that she could have gone to.

It was rather the norm, for him to run into her at some point during the day. Most of the time they only nodded at one another in passing, though he always turned to look at her as she would continue on her way. Since their shared time together in the meadow, fate had not given them the chance to be in one another’s presence for longer then a few minutes.

And Legolas quickly found that despite knowing nearly nothing of the elleth, he missed her company. And he wanted to remedy the fact that he barely knew anything about her by, well, getting to know her more.

Hence his current mission: to locate Annúneth.

Opening the door to the armory, he was surprised to see his father and Elrond standing together and having a rather animated discussion with a swordsmith. Normally he would’ve joined them, but right then he was starting to get a little anxious since he couldn’t find Annúneth.

He had hoped to turn away unnoticed, but his father always had a habit of knowing when he was near. “Legolas, what brings you here?” The Elven King asked as the swordsmith walked away to whatever task he had been appointed. “I am looking for someone.” He responded, to which both Lords glanced at one another, a look passing between them that had the Prince raising his brows in silent question. Elrond smiled as he turned his attention back to Legolas. “And who is it that you are looking for?” He asked. As Lord of Rivendell, he would know where Annúneth was, wouldn’t he?

Stepping forward eagerly he voiced. “I am looking for an elleth by the name of Annúneth. Perhaps you know her?” Mirth shone in the elder elf’s eyes. Even his father looked amused, and that hardly ever happened, which only served to confuse him even more.

“I do know her. And if you cannot find her anywhere, she has probably retreated to her garden. There is a tapestry, in the Western Wing, that depicts the first meeting of Beren and Lúthien. You will find a door behind it.” He had barely finished speaking before Legolas had quickly bowed and made his retreat.

“Beren and Lúthien?” Thranduil asked, appearing just as amused as before.

Elrond smiled. “Annúneth’s favorite tale.” He said as a way of explanation before they both turned their attention to the daggers that had been in the works.

                                             ————————–

Just as Elrond had told him, the door was behind the tapestry. And beyond it was a garden unlike any he had seen before. 

It was by no means a large garden, but was comfortably sized and circular in shape, with a tree in the center, its branches laden with white flowers. Beds of flowers dotted the landscape, and a small fountain fixed into one of the walls trickled merrily into a white marble basin. 

And while the garden demanded to be explored, it was the figure that lay upon the ground just under the tree that grabbed his attention. As he approached, Annúneth sat up, the surprise clear on her face as she blinked at him. There was grass in her hair, and white petals from where the wind was blowing them to the ground.

They both blinked at one another in surprise.

Annúneth at seeing him there, in her sanctuary that only a few people knew of, and Legolas at the realization that he had been distraught over not knowing where she was all day. But then, he suddenly realized, perhaps he hadn’t seen her because she didn’t want to be seen. Perhaps she had wanted to be left alone. Unsure whether Annúneth wanted him there or not, the Prince was quick to try and retreat.

“Forgive me, My Lady. I did not wish to intrude.” He bowed before walking back towards the door.

“Wait!”

Her gentle implore had him stopping in his tracks, his hand grazing the bronze of the handle, ready to push it down. “You are not intruding.” Her voice, gentle and kind was low. “Though I am curious as to how you found me here.” Turning, Legolas found her standing underneath the tree, her gaze fixed on him. “Lord Elrond.” He responded, his voice slightly hoarse. He paused, cleared his throat. “Lord Elrond told me where I’d be able to find you.” The Prince admitted, which had Annúneth shaking her head, a fond smile on her face.

Sighing, she raised her arms on either side as a gesture of welcome. “Well since you are already here, why not explore? It would be a shame for you to not be aware of the hidden beauty Rivendell has to offer.”

Gaining some of the confidence he seemed to have lost at the sight of her so carefree and unbound as she appeared to be in the beauty of the Garden, Legolas smiled. “That would be a false claim, My Lady, since I have seen all the beauty Rivendell has to offer.”

His intense gaze never once wavered from her face.

Her mouth opened, as if she were ready to dismiss what he said and prove him wrong, but then she stopped. Realization dawned across her features, which was immediately followed by her cheeks glowing with a hint of rosiness that was so unlike her. Not to mention the way in which her heart thumped in her chest, and pleasure swirled through her very being at the compliment he had given her.

This would not be the first occasion her beauty had been mentioned, though it was always secondary compared to her far lovelier older sister Arwen. Not that Annúneth held any contempt for her sister because it was the truth. Arwen was beautiful.

And yet, at that moment, having Legolas say those words to her, she couldn’t help but feel as if she truly were the most beautiful being on Middle-Earth. And with the way he was looking at her, any on-looker would truly believe it as well. 

Legolas was able to see the physical effects of his word, and though it may have pleased any other elf that his words had been the result of it, the young Prince found himself thinking of other way to make her smile as she was right then.

Or more specifically, smile at him that way.

Silence followed his words, though not an awkward one. On the contrary, it felt strange. Legolas felt as he did before he would face an opponent. Charged and slightly anxious, eager to see what the next few moments would bring, and anticipating the outcome of it as well.

Unable to withstand the silence, or rather his gaze, any longer, Annúneth turned her head to gaze around the circular room. “This was my Mother’s garden. She would come here to clear her mind whenever she would feel distressed over something.” The elleth said, smiling at the sight of a bird that was nesting in a bush nearby. Stepping away from the door, Legolas too looked around, unable to help but admire the natural beauty that surrounded them.

Though what she said, did give him pause. “Is that why you are here. Something distresses you?” He asked, his voice gentle as he came to stand in front of her, just a foot or so away. Annúneth sighed, but nodded. “Will you tell me what it is? If it will ease your mind?” The Prince continued, not wanting to see the glint of worry in her eyes as he was right then.

Her Father had told her never to speak of her Gift to anyone, unless she trusted them completely. She had only met him a few weeks ago, and yet..............

Annúneth knew that she could trust Legolas with her life if it ever came to that.

Sighing, the elleth closed her eyes briefly. “Then perhaps it is best that we sit for this conversation.” So saying, she glided to the ground, settling on the soft grass and looked up, waiting for him to do the same. Annúneth sit closer to the tree trunk so they would have a place to rest their backs against. Once sitting beside her, and mirroring her posture so that they were both leaning against the tree.

He turned his head towards her, waiting patiently as she inhaled deeply before exhaling. “I suppose it all started when my Mother was taken by the Orcs.”

                                             ————————–

“It must’ve been hard. Seeing your Mother like that.”

It was, but Ada was always by my side. As were my brothers and sister.”

“You are fortunate to have so many people who care for you.”

“I know.”

                                             ————————–

“So you thought it was a good idea to steal your Father’s sword?”

“I was only an elfling! I was I to know it would be too heavy to lift.”

“Did you wake up the Master of Arms because you dropped it?”

“Yes, and was branded a would-be-thief by the entire Greenwood.”

                                             ————————–

“I have taken up painting for that very reason.”

“I could help you if you’d like. Mother was an avid painter, and I would sit with her in front of my own canvas with an easel to try and paint. Of course I could hardly sit still for long then ten minutes.”

“You sound as if you were quite a handful.”

“There is no doubt that I was. Even now.

                                             ————————–

“I have tried my best, but I will never get used to how sour grapes taste for me.”

“But if you sprinkle them with some sugar, does it not improve them?”

“The juice inside makes my cheeks ache. And it causes me to tear up.”

“And that is bad?”

                                             ————————–

“Do you miss your Mother?”

“I do, but I know I shall see her when it is my time to sail. Though I am sorry about your Mother.”

“She died an honorable death, fighting for her people.”

“I’m sure her reason to fight was to make sure you lived in a safer world.”

“That is a nice thought. Thank you.”

                                             ————————–

“I believe that the Valar created our Fëa because we each have a purpose here on Middle-Earth. It may not be big, but perhaps it is significant.”

“I suppose one need not change the world to have an impact. One only needs to have impact on another being.”

“Yes.”

                                             ————————–

Time lost all meaning.

How long did they sit there?

How long did they speak?

How much did she tell him about her Gift?

How much did he tell her about his Burdens?

Did she truly manage to keep the names of her family a secret?

Did he truly manage to keep the names of his parents veiled?

By the time they ran out of words to say, their postures had shifted without their knowing.

Annúneth had her head resting on his shoulder, while Legolas had one of her hand gently gripped in between both of his own. His own head was leaning on top of her own. They found themselves drawing comfort from the other’s presence. 

The last time Legolas remembered taking comfort from another had been when his Mother had been alive. It felt strange to rely on someone for something as simple as comfort, and yet, he doubted he would feel at peace with anyone else as he did with Annúneth. Legolas had no idea what it was about her that had him feeling this way. But what he was aware of, was that since that night, when Annúneth had called him a Vagabond and had nearly knocked him out with a frying pan, his life had changed completely.

As the youngest in the family, Annúneth had never had any want for comfort. So then, why was it that with Legolas so near her, with his warmth, his voice and his presence surrounding her, had the elleth feeling as if she had never truly experienced comfort before as she did right then. Sure her Father’s embraces, and her sibling’s comforting words were no comparison. But with Legolas? She felt as if her very Fëa was at peace. Where moments ago her mind had been fluttering in the breeze, like a leaf caught in a disturbing wind, now she felt grounded. Almost as if, someone had taken her hand and pulled her back down before she floated too far out of reach.

If she were to touch the stars, she found herself thinking, she wanted to do so with him.

A bright smile on her lips, she stood, pulling Legolas up with her as she did. The Prince looked at her, slightly confused. Slipping her hand out of his, albeit reluctantly, and stepping towards the lowest branch, Annúneth jumped, catching the strong arm of the tree between her soft palms and hoisting herself up. Once she was sitting atop, she looked down at him, that smile still present on her lips.

Understanding her silent inquiry, Legolas gripped another branch and climbed up as well. Satisfied he would follow her, Annúneth began to climb higher.

Where they had been talking for hours only moments before, their ascent was in complete silence. Every now and then, they would pause, the leaves of the tree allowing them to view one another through the foliage. Their eyes would meet, playful smiles on their lips before they would continue.

Sometimes they would grab for the same branch, and their hands would touch. Giving them both pause as they would try to comprehend what that feeling was that shot through their very being and settled into the deepest recesses of their hearts.

Steady and sure, they both emerged at the top. The tree was high enough to surpass the circular walls of the Garden. Looking around, one could see the entirety of the valley Annúneth called home. It was a view she had seen before, and yet it never ceased to take her breath away. As someone who had never experienced the vision before him, Legolas could not help but stare, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Even after all the years I’ve lived, I am glad that there are still surprises waiting for me to discover them.” He admitted, finally tearing his eyes away from the view to glance at the elleth next to him. Yet she had her gaze trained towards the night sky.

When had the hour grown so late, neither of them knew.

The stars shone where they always had, since before the Awakening of the Elves, while the moon gleamed where she had been hung in the sky so long ago, with the last flower of Teleprion, the silver tree of Valinor, encased within.

“Have you heard of the tale of how the moon got her dark spots?” She asked, her grey eyes appearing silver under the shine of the full moon. “Yes.” Legolas responded, before adding. “Though I would like to hear it once more, if you were willing to refresh my memory with the tale.”

She rolled her eyes at his obvious teasing, but indulged in his request. “It is said that the moon was once unblemished and crystal clear as an orb, shining down upon Middle-Earth in all her glory. Tilion, the Maia who would guide the moon through the night sky was proud to hear praise of the moon’s beauty and reveled in the task he had been giving, which he did so diligently.” Her hand came to rest atop a branch that Legolas was gripping to keep her balance. Unbeknownst to them, their fingers began to inch closer.

Shifting slightly, which had him leaning closer towards Annúneth to keep his balance, Legolas spoke. “That is until he caught sight of Arien, the Maia who guided the sun across the sky, and fell in love with her.” Smiling softly, Annúneth nodded. “He was so taken by her beauty, they say, the way her golden hair seemed to shine just as bright as the sun. Her kind smile that held the very warmth of the sun. And the joy in her eyes, that seemed to never dim of the laughter that he would hear the moment she would take to the sky.”

Legolas’s gaze found the several dark spots that marred the once clear surface of the silvery orb. “His love for her had him wandering too close to the sun, and the moon was burned.” The Prince whispered, not realizing how the tips of his fingers were now intertwined with Annúneth’s.

The elleth nodded. “So now, he has to keep his distance and love and admire her from afar, though some stories say that he would love nothing more then to be in her presence, just once, even if it would burn him. Which is why, even now, sometimes the Sun and Moon appear in the sky at the same time. Because Tilion wishes nothing more then to catch a glimpse of Arien. Although,” Here her voice took on a slightly dismal tone, as if her very heart was burdened by what happened next. “He learned that he had to keep his distance after an error on his part.”

Her story had him frowning slightly. “Was there a reason behind the story My Lady?” He asked, to which she sighed and turned her gaze to look at him. “Or are you simply referring to the fact that I might burn, should I get too close to you?”

Her gaze snapped towards him, more then a little surprised at how quickly he had picked up on what she’d been trying to say. The wind blew softly, the leaves rustling around them breaking the temporary silence as they continued to look upon one another.

Blue on grey.

Grey on blue.

“A little too late for that.” He finally said, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze turned tender and soft. Grasping her fingers completely, he raised the hand he’d been touching to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss atop her knuckles. “For I believe I was burned the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Silence followed his confession, and Legolas’s heart sang with joy for having spoken what it had been carrying within it for so long.

“Annúneth.” She said, prompting him to tilt his head at her curiously. “I have burned you.” The elleth explained. “The least I can do is ask you to call me by my name.” Laughing softly to himself, the elf nodded. “Only if you were to call me by mine.” He offered, to which she hummed. “Truth be told, I prefer Vagabond, over Legolas.”

The Prince smiled, turning his body so that he would face her fully. “I do not mind in the slightest.” A mischievous glint lit in his blue eyes, putting Annúneth a little on edge because she knew he loved to tease. “Although I am a little curious as to why you would assume that you are the sun and I, the moon?”

The golden haired elleth lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Well mostly because everyone say that I have a sunny disposition.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “While your disposition has been whispered to be as mysterious as the moon.” Nodding in slight approval, with a look of satisfaction on his face, Legolas hummed under his breath. “And acceptable explanation.” He mused, before continuing. “Though I assume it had nothing to do with the fact that you have golden hair and mine is lighter?”

Pursing her lips to keep from giggling at his obvious vexation that the explanation was, in reality, much more simpler then what she had already offered, Annúneth spoke. “That would be a little too obvious. I was simply trying to help your image by comparing you to the moon. Was it not to your satisfaction?” She asked, unknowingly gravitating towards him, her body leaning closer with each whisper of word.

Letting out a sigh that sounded so wounded, Legolas nodded. “Well I suppose I shall accept it.” He said, barely able to get the words out given the smile on his lips. “Albeit reluctantly.” He added in jest. The hand that did not rest atop her own on the branch had lifted up to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing across her rosy cheek in a gentle caress. Her heart leaped in her chest at the loving touch, while his heart stalled when she consciously tilted her head against his touch.

“The smile on your lips says otherwise.” Annúneth challenged, still leaning closer, barely aware that Legolas was mirroring her movement, the distance between them getting smaller and smaller.

“What smile?” The words were barely out of his mouth when her lips found his, and everything else, even their conversation, became inconsequential.

For truly nothing was of more consequence, then having Annúneth press her lips against his, shy and timid, and yet, sure, certain and unwavering at the same time. Legolas, on his part, returned the sweet gesture with a firm press of his own lips. He was a warrior, and the word gentle had never been one to be associated with him, and yet, in that moment, he was the very epitome of gentleness and tenderness.

The kiss lasted for only a few moments, a simple brush of lips, tentative and cautious.

Just as any new love would be.

And yet they both knew that for them, nothing would ever be the same.

                                             ————————–

There was quite the surprise waiting for them once they descended the tree. Annúneth jumped down from the last branch, right into Legolas’s waiting arms. A joyful laugh echoed in the otherwise silent Garden, which had one of the newcomers smiling to themselves as he watched the two elves simply revel in one another’s presence.

His friend who stood next to him, had finally run out of patience.

“I do not believe it is courteous of a guest to disappear for an entire day without warning.” Thranduil spoke, the amusement in his tone betraying him as to how he truly felt about the situation.

Both Legolas and Annúneth stopped dead in their tracks. Their surprise had more to do with the knowledge that they had been together for an entire day and had not noticed the time passing. “Forgive us, My Lords.” Legolas said, his tone apologetic as he bowed. “Annúneth and I lost track of time as we spoke.” He admitted, though the use of her name had Annúneth smiling softly at him.

A development which did not go unnoticed by the two older Elves.

She turned to her father and smiled apologetically. “I am sorry if I worried you Ada.” No sooner had the words left her mouth when Legolas turned to look at her, utter surprise on his face as he repeated the last word she had spoken. “Ada?” He turned so he could look at her fully. “Lord Elrond is your father?” He asked, which had Annúneth frowning in confusion. “Did you not know?” She asked, to which he quickly shook his head.

Thranduil sighed, knowing exactly how the rest of the conversation would play out. “It is rather unbecoming of a Prince to not know a Lady’s father Legolas. I thought I had taught you better.”

The word Prince seemed to have the effect on Annúneth the same way the Ada had had on Legolas. “Prince?” Her voice echoed against the Garden wall. Having recovered, only barely, from the new information he had been exposed to, Legolas couldn’t help but repeat the words she had spoken to him.

“Did you not know?” He asked, to which Annúneth hit him on the shoulder, though there was no malice behind her act. “Of course not! I would never have called you a Vagabond if I had known.” She paused. “Then again, perhaps I still would have. No I am sure I would have.” A nod of affirmation had her reaffirming her statement.

Elrond chuckled, delighted to see his daughter seemed to take the news in a stride. And yet he was not unaware of the change he could see in his daughter. There seemed to be a glow about her, one that he was sure, she herself was unaware of, for she shared it with Legolas. “It would be best if we were to continue this discussion in my study. Perhaps over some breakfast?” He suggested, already steering Thranduil through the door.

Wordlessly glancing at one another, the two elves, feeling as if they were young elflings once again, about to be chastised, followed after their respective fathers.

                                             ————————–

“I hear you are to leave tomorrow.”

The sound of her voice had him lifting his head from where he had been putting the last of his essentials in his bag. Annúneth stood there in his doorway, dressed in a blue gown. A blue that seemed rather familiar, yet he could not place it. He nodded, the very gesture reluctant as he picked up the belt that held held hid dagger. “As soon as the sun rises, we will be off.” He said, his voice sounding hard even to his own ears.

He felt her walk towards him, his eyes still glued to his best which he was fiddling with more out of the purpose of doing something. “I had hoped that you would stay a little longer, but it is not to be.”

She was standing in front of him now, and her presence was what urged him to lift his head and gaze upon her lovely face.

A sad smiled played across her lips as she held out a bag he didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Just something I thought would help you on your journey.” Opening the bag, he took note of the several items of food nestled within, carefully packed for his use for as long as they would last on the journey back home. He smiled. “Thank you for your kindness, Annúneth.” He said, setting the bag aside. “I shall surely miss it when I return home.”

Annúneth smiled. “Well I should hope so. I would be greatly offended if you did not for then I would have wasted my hours while entertaining you Prince Legolas.” She teased, though he could see that her heart wasn’t truly in it. But he indulged her nonetheless with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh? Was it out of kindness that you would spend your time with me, My Lady?” He returned, raising an eyebrow at her even as she lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps I simply took pity on you for your lack of friends. You did seem rather lonely when you stole into the kitchen Vagabond.” The Vagabond chuckled at her words as the both of them lapsed into silence.

Inhaling deeply, Annúneth cast her eyes towards the bed where his bags were ready to be saddled for the morning. “You really are leaving.” She muttered, as if the words were only just beginning to make sense to her. Legolas nodded, reaching out to guide her face back to him with a tender stroke of her cheek. “Yes, but I do not wish our last night to be full of sorrow. If you are willing, shall we return to the Garden for one last night of escape before I am to depart?” He asked, offering his arm to her.

Smiling, Annúneth wrapped her hands around his elbow.

“It shall be your honor to escort me Legolas.”

“You had best get off the high horse Annúneth. It wouldn’t do lest you fall.”

“I do not fear the fall, for I know you will be there to catch me. Will you not?”

“Always.”

                                             ————————–

They were to leave.

They were to return to Greenwood that day.

And Annúneth could not bring herself to smile and wish them farewell on their journey.

Why?

Because she did not want to be parted from her Prince, just as he had no desire to part from his Lady.

But they had to.

He had to return to his Kingdom, and she had to stay with her family in Rivendell where she belonged.

She watched from the window as the line of riders departed, with Thranduil in the lead. Legolas should be beside him and yet, she could not see him there. That is until she spied him at the very end of the procession, his mount halted as the Prince looked up towards the window where she perched.

Even from afar, Annúneth could see the devastation in his blue eyes for they mirrored her own. Her hand lifted from the stone railing, to rest atop the gift he had given her.

Finally, Legolas’s horse turned and galloped after the disappearing procession. As she watched him disappear from her sight, Annúneth whispered a soft prayer to the Valar.

That no matter how long they would be apart, they would meet again.

                                             ————————–

Unknown to her, secured with a pretty ribbon was a letter hanging from the branch of the tree they had sat underneath just the night before.

The words within, read thus.

My dear Annúneth,

It is truly with a heavy heart that I say my final words of farewell to you through this letter. I could not say these words in your presence for I was sure, that if I were to speak to you on the day of our departure, then I would not want to leave.

I am sorry to have not made my true feelings to you known, but I promise you, when next we meet, I will not hesitate to show you the true extent of my affections for you. Though that will not stop me from telling you just how much your presence in my life, for the past few months has changed me.

Annúneth, my beloved, even when I tried to stay away, my gaze would remained fixed upon you for I was mesmerized by your beauty and your kind and gentle heart. My heart was full of joy for the simply pleasure of being by your side. Perhaps that is why I did not tell you of my true feelings.

Not a day will go by when I will not think of you. I will dream of the day we would sit by the lake as we had planned, lost in one another, and let the rest of the world disappear around us.

Your name shall be a prayer upon my lips, and each night I will ask the Valar to grant me my wish, and have you by my side soon. That is the only prayer I shall live by until the next time I am your presence.

And like the moon and the sun in the sky, we shall remain by each other's side.

I was, am, and forever will be,

Yours,

Legolas

                                             ————————–

Unknown to him, hidden between the loaves of bread in the bag she had given him, was a letter that she had written for him.

The words within, read thus.

My beloved Legolas,

How can I put into words what my heart has been bursting to say. To shout from the very treetops of my true feelings for you and how they have been imprinted within me for all eternity. You have not yet departed as I write this letter, and already my heart aches for it is aware of the impending absence.

I have lived a sheltered life, unaware of the world beyond my home, yet you have opened my eyes to a world that lies beyond home, and I pray that I will be able to explore all of it with you by my side. For there is no one else I would have as my guide in this world then you Legolas.

I hope you will not think of me too bold when I say, that it matters not what I may see in my visions, for your soul, your Fëa, is my shelter. I have no desire to be away from you for longer then necessary. When next we meet, I hope you will make me yours, as I hope to make you mine forevermore.

Not a day will go by when I shall not think of you, for my reason in this world is now you. Legolas you are within me, my heart, my mind, and my Fëa until the end of days. Should the world end, I shall be content if I were in your embrace.

I trust you to keep my heart safe my Vagabond. For my heart cannot find peace without you. May the Valar keep you safe on your travels. Be safe My Prince.

I hope like the moon and sun in the sky, we shall soon be by each other's side.

I was, am, and forever will be,

Yours,

Annúneth

[balrogballs]

Who's taller, Elrond or Celebrían? I must hear your thoughts.

I have so many thoughts on this!

Imo it’s a Galadriel/Celeborn situation where they’re the exact same height and have a similar build — as in, she’s relatively tall for a female elf thanks to Galadriel but not as tall as her because Celeborn was of average height, and Elrond is relatively tall for a man but somewhat shorter and slighter than the average male elf because both his parents were half-Elven hence neither of them being particularly tall.

How does this play out?

They share clothes but it is one sided to start with. By which I mean, Elrond is very much his movie-self in this regard and has reams and reams of robes, both extravagant Noldorin decadence and Sindarin (relative) simplicity. Buddy has a whole ass walk in wardrobe. Celebrían borrows them all without asking, and not a month goes by where he isn’t running around their quarters in nothing but a pair of trousers losing his nut because she wore his pure woven silk shawl as a riding scarf and now it’s got two holes in it. Sometimes he goes to bed and trips over something and it’s just his expensive gold laced tunic that she wore as a sleep shirt until it got itchy and she tossed it on the ground. Every time she does this he loses a year of his life and tries to give her a complete lecture, of which she listens to 0% of. Glorfindel vividly remembers the squeak he made when he saw baby Elladan puke on Cel’s breastfeeding maternity top, also known as “Elrond’s wedding tunic which cost half as much as the wedding itself”.

After she sails, it’s the other way around. Arwen was told by Cel that she could wear anything of hers that she left behind, and she does. Half the time she’s very confused as to where some of the items disappear to, since her other three family members were blokes, until she comes across her father in his study, happily balancing his ledgers, Cel’s lovely turquoise shawl wrapped warmly around his shoulders, his feet comfortably fitting into her old house-slippers.

Elladan and Elrohir don’t wear either of their parents clothes because they’re taller and broader than the both of them, and not really given to extravagance. However, whenever they’re home, they take turns sneaking into Elrond’s study to borrow random articles of clothing and keep them in their wardrobe for a few days before returning them just as silently. Arwen initially thought they were doing it just to piss said father off but then realised they were trying to give him a sense of normalcy 🥺

Them being the same height means their feet knock against each other in bed. This is not a problem as far as Elrond is concerned, because he is used to sleeping in the same bed as other people (having had a twin and spending 3000 years at war/sieges), and keeps his toenails militaristically short. Cel on the other hand, absolutely adores having long shapely toenails that she decorates with polish and little gems. Unfortunately, this is precisely what jams into Elrond’s ankles every night. Like lovebites from Gollum.

When I say they’re the exact same height I mean right down to the millimetre. Again, this does not really bother Elrond because again, he’s always been slighter than most male elves so hasn’t really even noticed. Cel, however, is extremely pleased about this, and in fact quite often does her hair in big, bouffant (think 1980s) updoes and backcombs, and in fact set off a century long trend of quiffs in the Eldar, simply because she enjoyed being taller than Elrond.

[theconstellationprincess]

Whumptober Day 11: SEEING DOUBLE + Loneliness

Set pre-season 1, minor canon divergence/au

Elrond once shared a face with another, and though he loves his friends, it is not the same to see another face but one that is almost like his, but for the way the light hits the eyes and the smile tips up to one side.

-

Elrond, like many other elves, was prone to reflecting on his past, for he had lived for quite some time now (though he was certainly not even close in age to the oldest of elves). He had known many elves, dwarves, and men during his time, and lost many too. Today was a day where he was more reflective than usual, as today was the day Elros had died. It had taken the news quite some time to reach him, but the letter informing him had been dated. It had been many many years ago now, but every year Elrond takes the day off because there is no cure for grief, and it returns year after year. There is nothing as isolating, as lonely, as losing the person you are meant to have with you forever.

Upon waking, his limbs feel heavy as lead, and he closes his eyes again, not wanting to face the day yet. Every day he has to contend with living in a world without Elros, but today he is, at the very least, allowed to be fully affected by the grief that he keeps locked in his heart. It circulates in his blood and forces him down into the mattress, fingers curled into the cloak that remains one of the last objects he has that belonged to Elros. The cloak was a gift from when Elros first left to Númenor, and Elrond had done his best to take care of it.

As he lays in bed, listening to the hustle and bustle of early morning Lindon outside his door, he hopes that, if the rumours are false and they both, or even one of them, still walk upon Arda's soil, that Maedhros and Maglor are doing fine this day. Perhaps they do not know the exact date of Elros's passing, and he is silly to keep them in his thoughts, but it makes him feel slightly better to think of them and believe that they are thinking of him and Elros. Maedhros’s death is a widespread rumour, but Maglor’s is less so, it is more commonly said that he wanders the world without purpose. Elrond likes to hope that one day he will wander to Lindon, or Eregion while Elrond is visiting, and they can be reunited again. It is a pleasant thought.

There is a knock on the door, sharp and quick- it is Galadriel, then. His voice comes out in a throaty mumble the first time he tries it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Come in!” Elros’s voice calls from his lips, and Elrond loses any will he had gained to see Galadriel, because as much as he loves her, he does not have the energy to put into words the immense pain he feels constricting his heart.

She slips into his room quietly, not speaking until she has sat on the edge of his bed and placed a hand in his hair, stroking it back. “I know you do not wish for company,” Galadriel begins in a soft voice, looking towards his door as she speaks, “But I do not wish to see one of my last remaining friends fade, and neither does Ereinion.”

Grip tightening on the cloak, Elrond looks up at her and forces a small smile onto his face. He sits up, shuffling so that he is sat next to Galadriel, and sets his head on her shoulder. “I will not fade, not after all this time. The pain is present, yes, but the wound does not weep as it once did.” It is easier to speak in a formal manner, because Valar knows that Elros wouldn’t be caught dead speaking like that to anyone closer to him than an acquaintance. Elrond had always been more interested in etiquette and court than Elros, though it was Elros who became a king, so maybe that changed over time.

There is another knock, and Elrond wonders when he acquired so many people who care about him. He had only Elros for so long with their parents being more concerned about the Silmarils, not to speak ill of them of course, and though they both had Maedhros and Maglor for a time, eventually Elrond was left alone, without anyone. Yet now, he had not only Galadriel, but whoever is awaiting his welcome outside of his door. “Enter!” He calls, lifting his head from Galadriel's shoulder and sitting up, for he could not place the knock and does not want to be seen as… as upset as he truly is.

He freezes as the elf lets himself in, blinking rapidly for a moment as he fights back tears. His closest living connection to the house of Fëanor, the house that he considers himself a part of, though he lacks a true blood relation. “Celebrimbor,” Elrond whispers, and if he could, he would leave his bed and capture his cousin in a very long hug. He wishes, suddenly, that he had been able to get dressed that morning, or at the very least brush his hair and teeth. Galadriel has seen him at his worst- including when he first lost Elros and his grief was still fresh, Celebrimbor has not.

“Elrond, I apologise if I am not wanted but-” Though any other day Elrond would have rather died than interrupt Celebrimbor, truly the greatest of elven smiths for he did not create the silmarils, which is a bonus in Elrond’s book, today he is more Elros than Elrond, and so he speaks out of turn. His voice is still weak, but it is stronger than it has been all morning, and there is a small, but genuine, smile on his face as he speaks, because Elros would have poked fun at the fact that Elrond is finally getting over his astonishment of Celebrimbor, and because Celebrimbor is here.

“You are wanted, I am so glad you have come.” Elrond interjects, standing up on shaking legs. His body does not wish to cooperate with him on this day, but he manages to take a few staggering steps forward, and collapses into Celebrimbor’s arms when they open to him. A sob works its way out of his throat, and though he hates to ruin the robes Celebrimbor is wearing, he cannot bring himself to pull away as the tears begin pouring from his eyes. A hand wraps around the back of his head, the other around his back, and Elrond feels more like himself than he has all day. He cries until he has run out of tears, and continues to stand there for a few more moments still, taking in the comfort offered because today is a day where he can do so without feeling guilty.

Galadriel offers him water, and he notices that she must have left and returned with a water jug and glasses at some point. He accepts, taking his place next to her once again, and sipping slowly. Celebrimbor sits on Elrond’s other side, and Elrond snorts to himself, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles.

“What are you laughing at?” Galadriel asks, a smile in her voice as she turns towards him. Elrond laughs a bit harder, wiping at his eyes and shaking his head.

“Elros would simply not believe his own eyes if he saw me now, sitting between Lady Galadriel, princess of the Ñoldor, most esteemed warrior, fair beyond compare, and Celebrimbor, cousin of ours, and greatest of the elven smiths.” Elrond explains, voice wavering somewhere between laughter and tears. “Even more, he would not believe that I would not be so starstruck as to be rendered unable to speak.”

Galadriel laughs and Celebrimbor rubs a hand down Elrond's back and shakes his head, fond exasperation clear in the gesture. Elrond smiles, eyes wet and puffy, heart still heavy with grief but lighter now, and speaks again, “Thank you for being here when he cannot.”

“We would not miss it for anything,” Galadriel replies, kissing his temple and wiping some of the tears off of his face with a kind smile.

“For anything,” Celebrimbor repeats softly, leaning closer to Elrond, who does not feel very lonely at all anymore.

[lya-dustin]

I Sang of Leaves of Gold

Ch.2

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“How did this happen?” Galadriel smiles and laughs when she greets the Queen of the Noldor at her bed. The Queen has been told to rest well after the anxiety of it all had caused false labor pains and now would receive all her visitors in bed, keeping herself busy with mending a tunic Elrond had accidentally torn when it got snagged by a branch in his favorite nook.

“Well, I am sure you have heard the minstrels, his sword is long, his lance is keen.” Erinti joked with her old friend. “Only took us a millennium and a half to have it work.”

Erinti had been dying to have a child of her own and finally her prayers had been answered. The Maia had hovered over Galadriel and Elwing when both elf women had been pregnant, been there when they gave birth and helped their children.

Erinti had held Celebrian and the twins when they were born and now neither Elwing nor Galadriel will be here to return the favor.

If only the maia wasn’t about to have her forced into Valinor.

But Galadriel had to leave, to leave before evil uses her to destroy them all.

“It took Celeborn and I a long time for us to have our Celebrian. I could not believe it when I felt her feä inside me.” Galadriel turns melancholic as she speaks of her only child. “Nor when she had her one hundredth begetting day after the war finally ended.”

Her daughter had disappeared along with Celeborn after Beleriand sank and never seen or heard of again. Even after a thousand and a half years, they were still struggling to find all the survivors and the remaining elven kingdoms.

The Green wood had only established communication with them just last month, but the Silvan and Sindar there strongly resented the Noldor for the Kinslayings and now that darkness has begun to awaken, it had become even harder to find all the missing peoples. There had been no word about the silver-haired Prince of Doriath nor his young daughter amongst the survivors that were still being discovered every day.

“She would have been of an age with Elrond, wouldn’t she?” the maia asked the golden-haired daughter of Finarfin.

Celebrian had reached adulthood when she disappeared with her father, she served as a healer and a warrior in her own right beside him and both had left on what was supposed to only be an uneventful journey to Oropher’s fledgling kingdom up north.

There were whispers that she may have not survived the ambush that killed most of Celeborn’s army, but a parent always knows when their child or soulmate’s feä disappear from the Song. Galadriel refused to put down her sword for more than just vengeance, the golden-haired warrior had hopes to find them herself as she scoured the realms for the remaining levies still fighting in Morgoth’s name.

“Yes, I suppose she would.” The blonde’s sadness held a hint of softness and that is another knife stabbing at the Maia’s heart. Every once in a while, it seemed that she was healing, but you cannot heal until you find closure.

She would find that healing in the Holy Lands, Lorien and Este would remove the darkness that was taking root in her feä. Erinti hoped she would one day be forgiven for this duplicity.

“When are you due?” Galadriel changed the subject and tried not to focus on the half-mended shirt

“Any moment now, he will be born before the last leaf falls.” Erinti prayed this baby was the cure to the dying of the trees. There was still so much to do here, she did not want to leave Middle Earth yet. “Finnellach, flame of hair and eye.”

Did that make her a hypocrite? Her wanting to stay and yet pushing Galadriel into leaving when she does not want to leave just yet.

Valar, it did, didn’t it.

But it was for the best.

there was no other way to prevent Mairon from escaping his prison and wrecking havoc upon Middle Earth.

“Sister,” Sauron calls out weakly to her, but she will not hear him. “Sweet sister, please!”

He knows she can hear him; their bond predated the known world, and it could never sever no matter what she tried.

She used to be a child who ran and laughed until she decided to go with Melian. She used to wear the bumblebee hairpins he had crafted for her before Melkor corrupted him, golden things that reflected the light of the Trees and came alive in her fiery red hair.

He has one in his grasp as he uses it to enhance their bond to try and break her resolve. The bumblebee shows no sign of wear nor rot despite how ancient it is, it is as if a mortal had only parted with it for some years and not having been lost by a rambunctious child god who flitted from flower to flower as the trees came to life.

The child had grown into an adult and now his sister would be a mother with a mother’s heart. His sister shimmers with new life even as everything begins to die around her, the babe inside her will have her fire in his hair and his odious father’s stern brow that goes back to his forefather, Finwë.

They ruled Lindon and their people justly, Erinti as Queen of the Noldor and caretaker of the Great Tree.

“Erinti! Little sister, little bee!” He calls out into the void as the Southron people in his raft go on thinking he is merely asleep.

The Blight has returned even as he floats in limbo debating whether to beg like a dog at Manwë’s feet or embrace what Melkor made him into.

The Blight calls to him, whispers of all the power he can have now that Morgoth is gone. The Orcs were amassing under his betrayer, an elf still not fully an Orc who called himself Adar, and that place they had created together to regroup in was ripe for the taking.

He is the King of Kings, the Lord of the World. And he is here posing as a nobody destined to die at Ulmo’s hands.

He could have it all. Regain what he lost and some more.

But in order to do that, he must find a way to break through Ulmo’s prison.

“Erinti Lóteriel! Sister!”

The queen wears golds and blues, regal like the powerful maia she appears to be.

She protects Lindon, she keeps the kingdom in a perpetual golden summer, and yet it is not enough.

Summer turns to fall, the first leaves are falling and Erinti, Queen of the Elves, prays Galadriel doesn’t turn back.

“Sister!” she hears Mairon call out for her and ignores his pleas.

She had begged him to repent, but his damnable pride had prevented him from returning to Aman and beg for forgiveness. He had wanted to be welcomed back without earning it, to find redemption without changing a single thing about himself.

Sauron, even in his defeat, refused to humble himself before the Valar and accept Eru Ilúvatar’s justice.

Brother, she wants to answer back, but the moment he can grab onto their bond it is all over.

So Erinti focused on all that she protects instead and turns deaf to his calling.

The queen gives her husband a reassuring smile and he begins with the speech Elrond has spent weeks agonizing over.

“These most valiant of warriors kneel here before us, victorious. For though Morgoth fell an Age ago, some feared a new evil might arise from his shadow. So, for centuries now, these soldiers have swept across crag and crevice, washing away the last remnants of our enemy like spring rain over the bones of a spoilt carcass. And now, at last, they return to us in triumph, for they have proven beyond any doubt that our days of war are over. Today…” the king paused for effect, and she pretends she didn’t hear her brother call out to her nor feel the guilt for doing this to Galadriel.

“Our days of peace begin.”

[stilltrails]

I also wonder just what the other Noldor thought of the Kinslayings? We know Fingon and Turgon participated (or at least Fingon) in one, and Turgon participated in his own lil’ kinslaying by throwing Eol off a cliff and threatening to do the same to Maeglin, who was innocent at the time...

We know Aredhel loved the Sons of Feanor even after Celegorm tried to force himself on Luthien. And when the Feanorians destroyed Doriath, there was no pushback from the existing Noldor groups, like at all. 

When Sirion was destroyed, Idril who would have known exactly who the Feanorians were and what Elwing wearing the Silmaril meant, did not advise her against wearing it and left her alone. She also didn’t petition against her cousins, or seek early aid from Lindon. She left Elwing in knowingly a vulnerable position, when she was directly related to the people responsible for the kinslayings. 

Lindon never actually made an enemy of Maglor or Maedhros, knowing they took Elrond and Elros and never brought them forth to pay for their crimes. A normal kingdom would have had them both arrested and tried for what they did, but Lindon just took Elrond and Elros and left. 

They were punished by the the Valar (hallowing of the silmarils, Eonwe’s long ass speech

Noldor groups in Middle Earth during the kinslayings just didn’t seem to care all that much, unless they were related to the Teleri, like Galadriel. But Noldor groups neither reprimanded the Feanorians or offered aid to them. Lindon tried to, but was slow (and Lindon is not fully Noldor). 

I’m not saying the Noldor didn’t care, but I wonder if their views on the Sindar had anything to do with it. 

I say this because Eol spoke to Turgon in front of an entire kingdom about how the Noldor had stolen Teleri land and killed his people. Turgon humiliated him for that. And Idril was sitting right there. Idril leaves Elwing in perhaps the most vulnerable position and offers no advice or stands on her daughter-in-law’s behalf against the impending doom. Earendil leaves to find his parents, successfully evading the kinslayings (sounds like a set up but okay). Maedhros laughs at Thingol. And Aredhel still hangs out with Celegorm and Curufin despite how badly Celegorm treated a princess of Doriath, as if it does not matter who she is. 

The Noldor elves left Valinor hanging onto Feanor’s words. They left for the same reasons he did, and understood just how fucked up it was that the Valar let one of their own kill their king AND steal the Silmarils. I’m not saying the Noldor are excusing the kinslayings, but I also think the Noldor have all agreed to stay out of the way when they happen, even if it means death of innocent people. 

I think they would do anything to see the Silmaril in the hands of the Noldor because the Silmarils are and have always been a Noldor sign of resistance against an oppressive structure, and damn anyone who does try to take it from them. 

[sunflowersupremes]

Silmarillion AU where Finarfin managed to drag his nephews back to Tirion or so help me GOD. @outofangband requested this one and I went a little overboard.

He had been fully intending to drag them back one way or another before he left, and he had rooms already waiting for them. Reinforced, of course, so he could insist that it was technically a cell so no one would argue with him.

He also intended to get Galadriel back, but she’s fucking stubborn. He can threaten his nephews; he cannot in good conscience threaten his daughter, because he knows it wouldn’t actually work and she would just shrug and tell him to TRY.

The Valar’s agreement to let the Feanorians return was only given to him moments before Maglor and Maedhros attempted to retake the jewels. It was by sheer dumb luck that Finarfin ran into them - he was walking out of camp to find them as they were sneaking in. Realizing what they were planning he shouted at them and called them idiots. Maedhros just took it with a straight face. Maglor almost cried.

Neither of them knew what to do when Finarfin said the Valar had agreed to void the Oath - and that he was confident they actually could since Manwë and Varda had been named as witnesses. They hadn’t believed the Valar when the message came from them, but coming from their beloved uncle it becomes a lot more persuasive (also Elrond and Elros turn up and side with Finarfin, so then they don’t really have a choice)

Mae and Mags aren’t exactly fond of boats, but Finarfin drags them on board anyway because he is DONE with this entire fucking continent and his nephews’ bullshit. Nerdanel meets them at the docks in Tirion and shouts at them, then hugs all three of them. Yes, including Finarfin.

They’re totally ready to go on to Valmar for trial - they both keep offering suggestions of increasingly terrible things the Valar could and should sentence them to - so they don’t know what to do when instead they’re dragged back to the palace in Tirion. You see, the agreement was that Finarfin would take them to Tirion then return them to Valmar, but it never actually specified when he had to return them, so he just… kept them.

Thankfully Olwë really likes his son in law, so he grudgingly gets Ulmo on Finarfin’s side (Ulmo agrees that no time frame was ever specified, so the Valar can’t actually do anything. Mostly, Ulmo is tired of the Noldor’s bullshit and wants to be left alone. He figures that leaving the Feanorians alone in Tirion will cause the fewest problems)

Nerdanel gets Aulë on their side and well, is anyone going to argue with two of the most powerful Valar?

The Valar decide that this is fine, because they weren’t actually sure what they were going to do with the Feanorians - Tulkas wanted them, which was proof that Tulkas Should Not Have Them - and they’d debated making them serve Olwë but he wants nothing to do with them (they also debated making them serve Earendil, but they weren’t sure they wanted them around the Silmaril and… well… you see, Earendil is a bit weird and was strangely excited by that idea, because Eönwë had told him that the Feanorians were actually surprisingly good kidnap parents and he wanted to hear all about his sons, so the Valar agreed that wouldn’t actually be a punishment).

So fine. They void the Oath. Keep your stupid nephews. We didn’t want them anyway.

I know the fandom kind of agrees that the Feanorians would be hated in Tirion, but what if they were welcome? Like, the elves that stayed behind must have had some major survivor’s guilt, so rather than seeing the Feanorians as dangerous murderers, they see them as more of ‘people we let down’ and ‘broken things to fix’

Also everyone likes Finarfin, and everyone feels bad that his entire family is dead or cursed, so if having pet Kinslayers makes him happy they’ll accept it.

Of course, it can’t all be happy, because the Valar are clear that they don’t want the Feanorians just out wandering around (and that was what Finarfin had expected, which is why their rooms were practically prison cells).

Maglor does all right, mostly because he has people to talk to (he quickly befriends everyone in the palace, from the advisors to random servants). He’s not doing great, but he’s doing just fine, all things considered.

But Maedhros… Maedhros does really badly in captivity.

He sits and stares at the wall, or paces, which they write off as just adjustment to his new home. Then he starts talking to dead people, which was pretty bad, but Finarfin is sure he can fix it given enough time. Then Maedhros starts talking to Sauron, and they realize that something in his brain thinks he’s back in Angband.

The only thing that keeps him sane is Maglor’s music, which would be fine, except Maglor can’t sing 24/7, so there’s nothing they can do for at least half of each day. Nerdanel sits with him, and that helps some, but he’s still only about half there.

And they’re desperate, but hey, Finarfin has this really weird friend, a Maia who serves Irmo, and… maybe Olorin can help?

Spoiler alert: Olorin can help, as it turns out, because he’s remarkably good at fixing problems.

He also takes lots of stories to Elrond once he travels to Middle Earth and takes the name Gandalf.

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

Shattered: the Importance of Finarfin

From what I've seen, the Silm fandom as a whole doesn't pay a lot of attention to Finarfin. In most of the content I've seen about him, he's reduced to "the calm one," or even "the boring one." Fëanor gets attention (a lot of attention), Fingolfin gets attention too but Finarfin often just gets shunted to the side. The sedate one. The useless one.

And early this morning, I just started thinking about that. And I realized that, like, there's a whole lot of interesting stuff about Finarfin. So I thought I'd talk a bit about that here. :)

(TW for some violence and death/suicide mentions)

For the purposes of this post, I'm just going to be focusing on Finarfin's adult life. Maybe I'll do one on his childhood later if I have the spoons/people are interested.

But anyways. On to the writing.

I'm going to start our timeline when Fëanor threatens Fingolfin in Tirion. Chances are, since it was very public, Finarfin was there. He was aware, of course, that his brothers didn't get along, but watching one of your brothers take action to hurt the other? That's got to be really upsetting, especially for Finarfin, who seems to be much less volatile than either of his brothers, and much more interested in keeping the peace.

And after that? Well, we all know what happens. Fëanor's exile to Formenos. But not just Fëanor, because all his children, plus Nerdanel, go with him. Oh, and Finwë. He goes too.

Finwë who is also Finarfin's father. What do you do when your father so publicly shows that he, essentially, likes your half-brother better than you? You can't help but have a suspicion that if it had been you who'd been exiled, your father wouldn't have gone with you.

But, because you're Finarfin and you've got to be there for Fingolfin, you don't say anything. You say goodbye to your sister-in-law, and your nephews, and your father and then you set about trying to pick up the pieces. Because that's what you always do, isn't it?

And then the debacle with the Trees happens. Your home is in a blackout. This is your first time experiencing real darkness, because you were born in Valinor and have pretty much seen only light or twilight. You're confused and frightened already, and then you find out that your father is dead.

You haven't seen him for years. And now he's gone.

But you've got to be there for your wife, and your children, and your brother, so you deal with it (like you always do).

And then, suddenly, Fëanor's a Valar-hating revolutionary and you're trying to calm him down, but does he even recognize you at this point?

And then he's leaving, and Fingolfin and your other set of sibkids are packing up too, because apparently he has to go to make sure Fëanor will be all right, and Fingon needs to follow his cousin, and the others want to see Middle Earth. You try to persuade them not too, but it it doesn't work. Well, at least you have your children, you think.

And then they come to you and tell you that they're leaving too. And what can you do but follow them? Eärwen says she won't, and someone has to be with them. So you pack your things and you tell your wife you are sorry and you go.

It couldn't possibly get worse, could it? And then, of course, it does, because when you reach the Swanhavens, the beautiful, pearly harbor city where your in-laws live, Fëanor doesn't take no for an answer and decides to just take what he wants.

And there's blood in the sea and the white paving stones turn red, and you and your children are just trying to stop it all but then you look down and you see Eärwen's parents lying on the pier with their throats cut and you know you have to go back.

So you do. Alone. You throw yourself on the mercy of the Valar and they grant it. You go home to your wife and neither of you speak for days because what is there to say when everything has fallen apart?

But, because you are Finarfin and it's what you do, you and Eärwen start organizing relief for the surviving Teleri, and you help the Valar as much as you can. You light lamps in the darkness until the moon rises. You wonder if your children are looking at it too.

From some stragglers of Fëanor's pack, coming back to Tirion, you learn that Fingolfin was betrayed. That Fëanor burned the ships.

And you learn that your children, and your brother, and your niece and nephews, and everyone else, are all on the Helcaraxë. You try not to imagine them freezing to death, or drowning in a black ocean, or buried in the snow, or all the other things that keep you up at night.

Things go back to normal, essentially. Tirion stops being quite as much of a ghost city, and you and Eärwen learn to live in your silent, silent house.

And years pass. You learn from one of the Returned that Fëanor is dead, has been dead for a long time, and you feel a numb sort of grief but it doesn’t really touch you anymore. Your nephew comes home, serious and dull-eyed. You embrace him and you weep. 

It would be a lie to say that you weren’t expecting it someday, but when you open the door to a soft knocking and see Angrod standing outside, you and Eärwen cry and cry. He tells you that Aegnor will not be coming back, that he fell in love with a mortal woman and waits for her with Mandos. You learn to accept this, because there is no alternative. You are Finarfin. You should be used to this by now.

And the years pass, and the years pass, and its a Maia of Námo knocking at your door this time, telling you that Fingolfin is dead, killed by Morgoth, and that he will not be returning from Mandos anytime soon. You ask if you can see him. You hear that he will see no one. You write him a letter for every day anyways.

And there are many more. Five of your nephews from Fëanor’s side are dead, but who knows where they are. Finrod comes home, smiling a smile that doesn’t touch his haunted eyes. Fingon comes too, and sits in your garden for hours, staring at Nerdanel’s statue of Maitimo. Aredhel appears and stands at the seashore, waiting for her son to join her. He does, with Turgon and thousands of others behind him. Aredhel weeps. You rub her back and feel just as helpless as you did at the beginning of it all. 

And the years pass, and the years pass, and Tyelpë comes home, wary and weary, and tells Finarfin that Galadriel has gotten married. 

But she is a child, you almost say, and then you realize that she is not. Not anymore.

And the years pass, and the years pass, and suddenly your are going to Middle Earth again, with a divine army behind you, and you are standing at the gates of Angband and listening to Morgoth’s screams. You stand beside Eönwë and you feel nothing but revulsion. You do not touch the Silmarils when they are taken down.

You had hoped to see Galadriel, but she is not there. Someone tells you that she is expecting a child.

And then there are your two remaining nephews, desperate and wracked with pain, and they beg for the Silmarils, and you would’ve given them, but Eönwë shakes his regal, feathered head.

So they steal them in the night. It isn’t surprising. Why are you surprised? Why are you crying?

Later, you hear that Maitimo--Maedhros, now--killed himself. You begin steeling yourself to tell Fingon when you get home. 

And the years pass, and the years pass, and you wait for your daughter, but it is her daughter that comes first, barely able to stand, her hand shaking like leaves in the wind. She looks up at you and then buries her head in your chest. You stroke her hacked-off hair and this time you do not cry. 

You wait, with Eärwen, with Finrod and Angrod, and now Celebrían, who is waiting thrice over, for her parents, for her children, for her husband. You wait.

And finally, finally she comes home, flickering like a candle in the wind. Her husband, Celeborn, comes first, tells you that she will soon arrive, embraces you and calls you ada.

And then Celebrían’s husband comes, breaks the news that their daughter is not coming, will never come. Finarfin rests his hands on their shoulders as their tears fall into the sea. 

His great-grandsons come later, and bearing a bedraggled someone between them, and it is first Finarfin and then Elrond who recognizes those grey eyes, that once-melodious voice. 

Uncle, says your one surviving nephew. I am sorry.

And, because you are Finarfin, you take his burned, bloody hands and lead him up the beach and towards the city, because if this can happen, perhaps there’s hope for all the others too. 

[avantegarda]

The Other Grandfather

Hey @bluedancingkittykat I’m your Secret Santa for the Discord gift exchange! Please enjoy wee Elladan and Elrohir having a strange Yuletide visitor.

And @princess-faelivrin thanks for organizing this babe

At the age of twenty, Elladan and Elrohir considered themselves much too old for excessive excitement over the Midwinter festival. Certainly, the greenery hung around Imladris’ Great Hall was very pretty, but hardly anything to make a fuss over. And the various pies and pastries whose scents wafted out of the kitchens might have smelled delicious, but they weren’t what a soldier ate.

Still, no one could fault the twins for getting excited about having guests. And there were always loads of interesting people visiting Imladris during the midwinter season. Their grandparents always came from Lothlorien with the most wonderful presents imaginable, there were usually a few interesting human diplomats hanging about, and even the mysterious Mithrandir himself would occasionally show up with fireworks.

The person who Elrond introduced them to the day before the solstice feast, however, was not exactly the sort of guest the twins were accustomed to seeing. For one thing, he arrived neither on horseback nor in a carriage, and received no formal announcement. Instead, Elrond simply brought him into the boys’ playroom and announced the arrival of a visitor.

“Boys,” said Elrond briskly, as though there were nothing at all unusual about the situation. “This is your grandfather.”

Elladan frowned suspiciously. “No it isn’t.”

“We’ve already got two grandfathers,” Elrohir put in. “Grandfather Celeborn got here two days ago and Grandfather Earendil is too busy being a star to come visit. No offense,” he added quickly, nodding at the stranger. 

“None taken,” the stranger replied, his low, musical voice betraying just a hint of amusement. “And you are quite correct, I technically am not your grandfather by blood.”

“But really, boys, I’m surprised you’ve forgotten the stories I’ve told you,” said Elrond. “This is your other grandfather, the one who looked after me when my parents left. Your grandfather Maglor.”

“Ohh,” Elladan and Elrohir chorused, eyes wide. They weren’t forgetful babies; of course they remembered Elrond’s stories about his unusual upbringing and the people who’d raised him. But Elrond had always described his foster-father as a brave warrior and brilliant musician, and a prince at that. Whereas the person they were meeting now looked...well. Haggard was putting it nicely. His gray cloak and brown satchel were both heavily patched, and his dark curls vaguely resembled a bird’s nest.

Sensing that no more polite greetings were coming from the twins, Elrond shook his head fondly. “Anyway. Father, these are my children; Elladan on the left, and Elrohir on the right. You may, of course, refer to me if you need any clarification about which is which.”

“I don’t imagine it will take me long to sort it out,” said Maglor, giving the boys a wink. “I always was rather good at telling twins apart.”

--

“So where have you been for the last few years?” Elrond asked, as the family settled in their private sitting room that evening. Outside, the snow was still falling steadily, coating the valley with a glittering sheet of white powder...with any luck, the twins agreed, the snow would be the right consistency for a snowball fight the next day.

“We haven’t seen you since the twins were babies,” said Celebrian. “In fact, we were starting to get a bit worried about you.”

“Oh, you know. I’ve been here and there,” Maglor said vaguely. “Down south for a bit, mainly in Harad. Interesting country, that. They do some marvelous things with beans. As it happens, I picked up some gifts for the children while I was down there. May I?” At Elrond and Celebrian’s nods, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two small bundles, wrapped in colorfully patterned cloth. “There you are, boys. A couple of early-Midwinter presents for you.”

“Oh!” Elladan exclaimed, eagerly unwrapping his gift and pulling out a small dagger with an exquisitely carved wooden handle, its blade wrapped in a soft leather sheath. “Look, Mother, a knife! And Elrohir got one too!”

“Those are ceremonial daggers that many Haradrim boys receive when they are ten years old,” said Maglor. “Symbolizing maturity. And, of course, they are completely blunt,” he added, shooting a wink at Elrond and Celebrian’s concerned frowns. “Couldn’t cut anything with that except butter.”

“And if I catch you boys sneaking down to the armory to get them sharpened you won’t have any butter on your bread for a year,” Elrond said sternly. “But that’s kind of you, Father. It certainly wasn’t necessary for you to bring any gifts.”

“Nonsense! What else are grandparents for? And I got you something too, of course. Well, not a thing, exactly. A song.” Reaching once again into his satchel, Maglor extracted a battered old fiddle. “Feel free to sing along if you know the words. I wrote this one centuries back.”

At their age, Elladan and Elrohir were hardly seasoned music critics. This, however, did not prevent them from being aware that what they were hearing was extraordinary. --

In keeping with tradition, Elladan and Elrohir awoke at the crack of dawn on the day of the winter solstice, immediately hurrying to wake their parents. 

“Where’s Grandfather Maglor?” asked Elladan eagerly, bouncing up and down on his father’s feet. “Can we wake him up too? I want him to come play outside with us.”

Elrond’s face fell, and he shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, boys. Your grandfather had to leave earlier this morning.”

“He did? Why?”

“As it happens, he left you a letter. Hopefully he’ll explain himself.”

Dear Elladan and Elrohir,

I am truly sorry that I must leave before today’s celebration. As your father may have explained to you, I made many mistakes in my past, and as a result there are many people in Imladris (including your grandmother) who would be very upset to see me at a party. Leaving early is really the best solution for everyone.

I want to let you know, however, how much I have enjoyed seeing you again. The last time I was in Imladris you were tiny babies, and it’s extraordinary to see how much you’ve grown. You are wonderful, brave, clever children and I can easily understand why your parents are so proud of you.

With love and hope for a bright New Year,

Your grandfather Maglor

PS: The next time I see you, I promise I will tell you the story of the time I met a sea serpent.

“Well,” said Elrohir, when the two boys had finished reading.”I still say it’s too bad he couldn’t stay.”

“But if Grandmother Galadriel was going to be angry with him I understand why he left,” said Elladan. “She’s scary when she’s angry.”

“What does he mean by mistakes?” asked Elrohir. “You haven’t told us very many stories about that.”

Elrond glanced hesitantly at Celebrian, who shook her head. “That’s not a good story for a holiday,” she said firmly. “We’ll talk about it another time. For now, who’s ready for a snowball fight?”

Elladan whooped in delight and leapt off the bed, while Elrohir remained behind, looking up at his father with concerned eyes. “Is Grandfather going to come back?” he asked. “I mean, he’s not gone forever, is he?”

With a fond chuckle, Elrond patted his son on the head. “No, my dear, he’s not gone forever. He’ll be back one of these days. He doesn’t exactly stick to a schedule...but he’ll be back.”

[tolkienuntangled]

Fact for Fans #2 - The Tragedy of Lord Elrond

Picture that moment on the shores of the Grey Havens. Picture Frodo, Bilbo, Galadriel, Gandalf, and Elrond standing on that White Ship, and picture them departing Middle Earth in the final minutes of the Third Age. Now I've already done a fun fact about sailing West from the perspective of Bilbo and Galadriel, and I'll certainly write one about Gandalf in the next few days, but today's fun fact is going to focus on Elrond, and I hope to try and untangle what this moment truly means from his perspective.

Now I have to be honest, in my opinion Elrond's character is a little short-changed in Peter Jackson's movies. That's not to say I don't enjoy Hugo Weaving's performance, but I feel that by the power of the butterfly effect, changing Aragorn into a more reluctant king, changed Elrond into a more stern and less sympathetic version of himself. My favourite quotation of Tolkien's, about Elrond, comes from The Hobbit, and it goes: "he was as noble and fair as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer." Now I'm not sure that Hugo Weaving's Elrond is quite as "kind as summer," in fact I can't think of any Elf in the movies who truly embodies Tolkien's idea of Elven kindness and compassion. They're all a bit too severe.

Anyway the reason I flag this up is because in Tolkien's tales, Elrond is strong, wise, and noble, but he's also warm, and loving, and kind. And these traits lie at the centre of his character. Now the reason that I think Elrond's kindness is so significant, is because it's not something we should automatically take for granted. After all, Elrond's long life is not a particularly happy one. When we think of immortals in Middle Earth we tend to think of timelessness and of preservation, but to an extent, in Elrond's case, he's defined more by the abundance of things that he loses. Yet he's also defined by what he doesn't lose. And he never loses his kindness.

So in order to fully understand this, we're going to have to go back to the very beginning of Elrond's life; right at the end of the First Age. Now Elrond and his twin brother Elros, were born to two very important characters in the Legendarium. And yet neither one of them was a particularly active parent. When Elrond was only two years old, his father Eärendil went off to sea, and Eärendil never saw either of his sons again. Only four years later, when Elrond was six, his home came under attack, and he and his brother were carried off by their attackers. And Elrond's mother Elwing threw herself into the ocean to avoid the same fate. Now technically both Eärendil and Elwing did survive this, Elwing turned into a bird and Eärendil turned into the planet Venus (no joke, things were weird back then), but neither of them ever returned to their children. And for all intents and purposes, Elrond was orphaned when he was only six years old.

Now it wasn't entirely a case of doom and gloom for young Elrond and Elros, as both twins were eventually adopted by the brother of the guys who attacked their home in the first place. But as with many of Elrond's familial relationships, this one didn't last. You see, only forty-nine years later, Elrond's adoptive father, an elf called Maglor, simply disappeared from the annals of history, and his fate remains one of the great mysteries of Tolkien's Legendarium. But we can be sure that he never saw Elrond again. And so for the second time in his relatively short life, Elrond endured the loss of a beloved family member. Which, if you think about it, must be especially traumatic for an immortal!

Anyway, after the loss of Maglor, a new Age began for Elrond. The Second Age. And this was the Age in which Elrond would truly make a name for himself as one of the key players in the fate of Middle Earth. And his twin brother Elros would do the same. But despite the fact that Elrond and Elros came into the world together, they would not leave it together.

So due to a complex web of Elves and Men making babies in Elrond's family tree, both he and Elros were given the choice to either live as Elves, or as Men. Now obviously Elrond chose to be counted as an Elf, and thus he was given an immortal life, but his brother Elros made the opposite choice. He lived as a Man. He lived a (very) long life as a Man, and he ruled as the mightiest King of Men that Arda had ever seen. But he did not live forever. In his five hundredth year of life, Elros gave up the Sceptre of the King, and he allowed himself to die.

Now Elrond certainly isn't the only Elf in the Legendarium to lose a brother. Galadriel loses all three of her brothers in the space of ten years, but they're not gone forever. Usually when an Elf dies, their soul (their fëa) departs to Valinor where it will be held, and judged, and eventually rehoused and set free; to live an afterlife in the Undying Lands. So when Galadriel sails West, she's sailing to be reunited with her brothers. But this isn't the case with Elrond and Elros. Elros chose the fate of Men. His fëa does not depart to Valinor to be rehoused like an elf's, instead it eventually departs Arda entirely. The soul of Elros simply disappears from the world, and his fate is a mystery to all. Such is the Gift of Men. And so even in death, Elrond and Elros will never be reunited. Just like Eärendil, and Maglor, and (possibly) Elwing, and of course Arwen, Elros is lost to Elrond forever.

But Elrond kept on going. He had responsibilities after all, and throughout the Second Age he became a close advisor, and even closer friend, to the Noldor's High King; Gil-galad. In fact throughout all the drama of the forging of the Rings and the first war against Sauron, Elrond became Gil-galad's "vice-regent" in Eriador, the founder of Imladris (Rivendell), and eventually, Gil-galad even bestowed upon Elrond his own Ring of Power - Vilya, the Ring of Air. But once again it did not last. Gil-glad was slain in the War of the Last Alliance, and Elrond was forced to enter the Third Age without him.

However Elrond wasn't entirely alone, and his story is not entirely tragic. You see, in the 109th year of the Third Age, Elrond finally married the love of his life. The Lady Celebrían; the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn. And Elrond and Celebrían represent one of the happiest Elven unions in the Legendarium. At least for a while. Celebrían inherited from her mother the Elessar, the Elfstone, the same stone that would eventually be given to Aragorn. And this is a beautiful detail, because the original Elessar was first given to Elrond's father by his grandmother, so it's a really lovely family heirloom. And together, in this period of peace, Elrond and Celebrían build a really lovely family.

First Celebrían gave birth to the twin hunters Elladan and Elrohir, and then 111 years later, she gave birth to Elrond's beloved daughter, Arwen Undómiel. And for the next two and a half thousand years, everything was wonderful. Well I mean, the Witch-king did his thing in Angmar, and there was a terrible plague, also Uruk-hai were invented at this time, but in Rivendell, between Elrond and Celebrían, all was good.

Until it wasn't.

So in the year 2509 of the Third Age, tragedy struck Elrond once again. In this year, Celebrían made the journey from her home in Rivendell to her parent's home in Lothlórien, (a journey she'd done many times before), but on this occasion something terrible happened.

Whilst crossing the Misty Mountains, Celebrían was waylaid and captured by orcs of the Redhorn Pass. And Celebrían suffered misery and torture at their hands, which forever changed her. She was tormented and she was poisoned by the orcs, but they did not allow her to die. Instead they kept her prisoner in their dens, and her spirit was broken.

Now from the orcs' perspective this was probably the most foolish thing they could possibly have done, because by torturing Celebrían they'd brought upon themselves the unbridled wrath of not only Elrond, but of his sons Elladan and Elrohir. And so with a magnificent fury, the twins rode up into the mountains, and we can only assume that they would have slaughtered every single orc in that Pass. And when Lord Elrond found his wife, he freed her, and he held her, and he healed her body, but he could not heal her spirit or her mind. The torment was simply too great.

The following year, Celebrían's despair of life had grown so great that she departed Middle Earth, and she sailed away, leaving her husband and her children behind her. And for Celebrían and her daughter Arwen, this would mark the final time they'd ever meet.

So let's fast forward now back to that moment on that ship at the end of the Third Age, where Elrond and the other ring-bearers prepared for their own departure. We know that this was a bittersweet moment for Elrond, after all he was not only leaving his realm of Imladris behind him, but also all three of his children. Even at the very end, Elrond had one more great loss to endure.

So as we all know, Arwen faced the same choice that Elrond and Elros faced all those years ago, and just like Elros, Arwen chose a mortal life. She was blessed with love and happiness, but she was doomed to be parted from her father forever. Just like with Elros, even in death, Elrond would never see his daughter again. Nor would he ever meet his grandson. And this is made even more poignant, because not only does Elrond lose his daughter, but he loses Aragorn, an orphan not unlike himself, who he'd adopted and raised just as Maglor adopted and raised him. And we don't know the fates of Elrond's sons, but we know that for a long while they too remained in Middle Earth, sundered from their father, and perhaps they too chose a mortal life, and they too were lost to Elrond forever.

So picture yourself in Elrond's position. Picture yourself looking back towards the East, as the White Ship sails into the West. Imagine all the things that Elrond is losing, and all the people he will never see again. But now imagine Elrond turning around and looking forward. Looking west. Imagine that bittersweet emotion as the lands of his children disappear behind him, and he faces the direction of his wife. The direction of Celebrían. For although Elrond had so much to lose by leaving Middle Earth, there was someone waiting for him on the other side. After more than five hundred years apart, in the West, Elrond would find Celebrían. And after a lifetime of losing that which he'd loved, he'd finally be reunited with that love which he'd lost.

From the perspective of a more prideful character this may seem like a sad ending, but from Elrond's perspective I don't think it is. I find that from this perspective, Elrond is an incredibly optimistic character. More so than most Elves, he'd experienced permanent loss many times over, and yet he never loses his kindness. Perhaps at the end of all things, Elrond is not defined by who he lost in Middle Earth, but by who he found again in the Undying Lands.

So, thank you all for reading. Over the course of this year’s lockdown I’ve been working on a series of Tolkien themed YouTube videos called Tolkien Untangled. So far I’ve uploaded 10 episodes explaining the beginning of the Simarillion, the Beginning of Days, and the tale of Fëanor and the Silmarils. I’ve also released four episodes about the differences between the Lord of the Rings books and movies, and I’m currently releasing a weekly series of Tolkien lore videos. So check out Tolkien Untangled on YouTube if you’d like to learn more.

Thanks again everyone. Much love and stay groovy ❤️

[malkaleh]

January Talking Meme

January 5 - Book versus Movie Elrond

Okay. Firstly I want to make a disclaimer that like, I do not think people are terrible in any way for liking movie Elrond or anything and like, it’s a difference in taste thing - a cake thing (some people love X kind of cake and while I really don’t it’s not a character flaw either way). And so on with my Salty Opinons. 

The thing to know about Elrond Not Actually Half Elven it’s more like ‘human, two elvish lines and um, an angelic being who helped create the world’ is that above all, he truly is “as kind as summer” and also oh my G-d his life has been, how does one say A Tonne Of Trauma. 

His parents are both refugees in different ways - one from the fall of Gondolin, one from what I can only say is a very ugly inter elven war over some Shiny Jewels (no, not the rings of power. Different shiny jewels). And then, then when he and his twin brother Elros were very very young their father sailed away looking for Valinor and then their home was attacked by the faction of the Elves After The Shiny Jewels. His mother threw herself and the shiny jewel into the sea, was turned into a bird, found her husband and um yes. 

Elrond and Elros were then raised by one of the very people who had been Very Involved in the attack on their home. Actually Elrond is the name this elf gave him - we don’t ever know his birth name as such. Now apparently ‘love grew between them’ but you can imagine that growing up with that was...A Lot. 

And then comes the war that ends Saurons boss and okay, now their father is a constellation and neither he nor their mother can ever come home. Their foster father is driven mad by an oath involving Shiny Jewellery (which is why Elrond is later so adamant about No Oaths because well, he’s seen what they do. He’s seen how much they break). His twin brother makes the choice to be mortal and by all accounts Elrond is very close to him and his descendants (until um, Sauron helps their land get sunk beneath the waves). 

He marries Galadriels daughter, they have three children and then...his wife is attacked by Orcs and is so traumatised that she has to leave Middle Earth. 

It’s a lot. What book!Elrond does is...he chooses to make Imaladris a place of sanctuary, of refuge and healing and kindness. And welcome. Elrond is an extremely well respected lore master, healer and diplomat. Movie!Elrond doing that ‘I’ll just go out and HUNT ORCS and then hostilely circle around this group of guests and speak in a language they don’t’ is just NOT A THING HE WOULD DO. In the books, they are specifically making for Rivendell, Thorin very much respects and likes Elrond, Elrond is very helpful and kind because like THAT IS WHO HE IS. And also largely he hates the devastation Smaug has caused. 

Also, book!Elrond does not lie to Arwen to get her to go west. He does say that he would like if Arwen and Aragorn wait until Aragorn is king before they get married but he certainly does not keep them apart or anything. He actually specifically raised Aragorn and considers him a son/is very fond of him (and has been doing so with all the descendants of the Kings of Gondor) and like, PJ I don’t know where the weird Aggressive Hostility Came From but it’s Not My Elrond. He is not snarky at people - he doesn’t want Merry and Pippin to go because they are so young. He is kind, he is extremely compassionate and also has a sense of humour and after all of this loss he has suffered? That’s what he keeps. He keeps a refuge. He keeps kindness. He says yes, my beloved daughter will choose a mortal life and I will not stand in the way of that. He says, I will love and I will be kind even through the pain. 

And that is not what I got from movie!Elrond at all. 

Also he has a RING OF POWER and no, he would not just LEAVE RIVENDELL BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE A TERRIBLE IDEA WHAT THE FUCK PJ. 

[evenastar-blog]

Tell us about how Arwen was as a mother.

So, a bit of my opinion on Aragorn as a father ends up in this too, hope that’s alright. Also, this is preeeettty long. Sorry, lol. ^^”

In three words: laidback, calm, surprising. 

If something happens to one of her kids, she is very chill. Kid cut themselves with a knife? No big deal, we’ll just clean that up. Honestly, in general I think Aragorn and Arwen would be chill. One of their kids gets hurt and Arwen and Aragorn are kinda just like “alright, let’s just get this cleaned up, no need for tears” while other people are freaking out. But also Arwen just has this uncanny knowledge at all time. Like her kids will sneak out of their lessons, but she knows where they are. She always knows where they are. And sometimes she’ll come get them and be like, you need to go to your lessons. But sometimes it’s better for them to get away with it. So her kids feel that they can safely confide in her. I can so see them plotting to play a prank on Aragorn and telling mom all about it beforehand.

I met a mother once while camping whose young girl was wading in the river and fell and started crying. And I was super impressed because the mother didn’t rush forward and go all protective mode, but nor did she dismiss the child and tell her to stop crying. Instead she walked closer but stayed a few feet away and said something along the lines of: “I’m right here. That’s alright. Can you stand up and come here?” I feel like Arwen would be a lot like this. 

Arwen in both the books and movies is a very empathetic person, so I think she’d be a natural at knowing when to leave her kids alone, when they need to talk, etc. 

I am sure that Elrond and Galadriel made sure Arwen grew up knowing anything she’d ever need to, whether it be healing or politics or archery, etc. I think Arwen would do the same for her kids. 

I think her and Aragorn would share roles really easily, but I don’t really see them as doing like a good cop parent, bad cop parent thing. I don’t see either of them really ever being like “you don’t do that ever” but being more like “why did you do that?” And taking all of their children’s questions seriously and giving them real answers, and being honest with them. 

I think she and Aragorn would both tell them stories and sing to them. I don’t think either of them would drop everything at every whim of their kid’s (they’re kinda running a country), but I do think they would make time for their kids, and if their kid interrupted a meeting or something, they’d figure out why their kid did so instead of getting mad or anything. 

Arwen does not let her kids get away with everything and anything. Arwen and Aragorn both come from great bloodlines, and there are some expectations placed on them. I think in a way they’d expect the same of their kids. Their kids would have time to play and be kids, but they also need to work hard and learn things like etiquette. 

I think it’d be important to Arwen for her kids to know allll about their grandparents and great grandparents. She truly loves her family and wishes her kids could know her father and mother. She has insane appreciation and love for her brothers because they stuck around and got to know her kids. 

Honestly between Aragorn and Arwen, I think Aragorn would butt heads with his kids more. He has a heck of a stubborn streak and I think having commanded the Rangers and armies and stuff he’d have certain expectations. Like, I could see him getting exasperated when one of his kids throws a tantrum over not getting eggs for breakfast or some shit. And Arwen just being like, “they’re a child, Aragorn.” And him being like “well I wasn’t like that when I was a child.” And Arwen just talking him down and checking on the kid who may have stormed off in tears. She’s really good at not taking sides, but helping the people involved understanding the other person’s point of view. 

I think she’d have more of the difficult conversations with her kids. Answering questions like: “why aren’t Grandma and Grandpa here? If you had a vision of us, they knew we were coming, so why didn’t they want to meet us?” and them throwing out angry words such as “You don’t love us! I bet you regret giving up your immortality! You don’t want us at all!” or “Why don’t YOU just sail West?” and them asking her why she didn’t sail West, and doesn’t she miss her parents? And Arwen having to address this silent fear that her kids have that she will leave them someday and sail West. And questions about immortality and death. Because to most children I’ve met, living forever is a good thing and death is a bad thing and why would you give up the good thing for the bad thing, mom? And why do you even have to give up your immortality? That doesn’t seem fair… .

This is not to say she would be a perfect mom. Her children are growing up in Gondor, in a very different culture than her or Aragorn grew up in. So sometimes neither parent would be able to quite understand. I think it’d be more difficult for Arwen, being an elf. I think too maybe she’d struggle encountering other moms who would be like “what do you mean you don’t have turkey for thanksgiving? what do you do then??” and struggling with wanting her kids to know her culture, but wanting them to grow up in the culture they’re in. And I think sometimes she would get sad. That she’d wish she could see her parents again, and that her parents could see her children. Sad in that she misses Rivendell and Lothlorien. Sad because sometimes she just doesn’t fit in.

Arwen would not be a sit at home and clean and cook and take care of the kids mom. First of all she’s Queen so she WILL have nurses and tutors. She WILL have an active role in her children’s education (as will Aragorn), but she will also be helping her husband run the country. I think she’ll be keeping diplomatic connections to the elves still in Middle Earth as well, and keeping track of who’s still in Middle Earth. Aragorn will definitely be a regular visitor to the Houses of Healing to help out, and Arwen will too. She’ll meet with concerned citizens. She’ll get involved in gardening. And sometimes she won’t be “queenly” because she and Aragorn will go for a ride and come back windswept and dirty and laughing. She will be a wonderful queen, but not entirely conventional in Gondor’s eyes. And she’ll let her kids do stuff like this too. She’ll let them get dirty and tear their clothes and bloody their knees and run around barefoot. She’ll teach them the language of horses and how to ride. 

And sometimes someone may tell her that it’s not entirely appropriate for her kids to run wild like they are, and part of her won’t understand. But part of her will and will graciously decline their advice and raise her kids how she wants to raise them. 

In a way when Aragorn dies she is selfish. She can’t find it in her to comfort her kids about their father’s passing because she is d e v a s t a t e d and so so depressed. And she just fades in a way, and her children need to step up by themselves. Though Aragorn would have prepared everyone as much as possible for his going.  

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

@ainedubh​ asked:

Regarding your tags on the Lady Stark interiority / Tolkien thing, I feel like if Tolkien was ASKED about Bard or Thranduil's wives he would absolutely want to talk about them. "Oh, these are their names, and they mean this, and this is their entire ancestral line, and they met like this and their courtship went like this and..." Like, he wanted every detail fleshed out, and would never blow off a fan asking for them, even if he had to make it up then and there.

Hey, @ainedubh​! @joannalannister​’s a little overwhelmed with asks at the moment, and as your question was in reference to the tags she wrote in reply to my post and tags about Tolkien and female representation, she forwarded it on to me, hope you don’t mind! Note, she also deleted that post (because she reblogged another one with a further reply), so I can’t recall exactly what they said, but IIRC in reply to my tags:

#jrr tolkien #may have an awful proportion of female characters but every single one of them has interiority #that grrm is a tolkien fan makes me facepalm every time i read that interview

she wrote something wondering about Bard’s dead wife and Thranduil’s dead wife, both of whom are non-existent (except for Thranduil’s being used as a manpain plot device in the Hobbit movies), and are something she’s groused about before in reference to the Dead Ladies Club.

Now, I pretty much agree with you regarding Tolkien probably responding with lots of details if anyone asked. (I haven’t read most of his letters, but they’re quite educational and entertaining.) But the thing is, well, the problem of the missing wives is really a movie problem, not a book problem? That is to say, it’s a function of Peter Jackson’s adaptation, rather than a problem innate in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit (except for certain elements I’ll get to in a moment).

See, in The Hobbit (the book), Bard isn’t a father, and neither is the Elvenking. (Who isn’t named Thranduil in the book; he’s not given a name or history at all.) Oh, we learn in LOTR that they are fathers, sure, because Brand son of Bain son of Bard is said to be ruling Dale, and Legolas son of Thranduil is a messenger to Elrond (and of course becomes a major character in the trilogy). But in The Hobbit, these men are barely sketched out. They have no known family, no known children, no known wives... and that’s pretty typical of almost all the non-central characters of the book. They exist to play roles, they have a certain amount of characterization and interiority, there are sometimes brief references to ancient history, but other than that they’re barely people, they’re just kind of there.

Elrond, for example, hosts the dwarves and finds the moon-letters on the map; but he has no children (Elladan and Elrohir and Arwen), he has no wife (Celebrian, who went to Valinor for solace), he has no parents (Earendil and Elwing), he has no in-laws (Galadriel and Celeborn) -- he just is, merely Elrond master of Rivendell, “noble and fair and wise”, who “comes into many tales”, but only has a small part in Bilbo’s. And that’s because, (a) The Hobbit is a children’s book, with a first-person narrator telling the story, far less complex and developed than the later Lord of the Rings, and (b) The Hobbit was written fairly early on in Tolkien’s works, before he’d even created most of Middle Earth and its characters. (And the information Tolkien had developed already, he wisely left out of The Hobbit for simplicity’s sake, except for the occasional tantalizing reference to the legendarium here and there.)

So it was with Bard and the Elvenking in the book. Bard is a “grim-voiced” descendant of the last king of Dale, he doesn’t think the dwarves’ adventure will bring gold to Laketown, he can understand the speech of thrushes, he has a lucky black arrow that he uses to slay Smaug, he helps lead the people of Laketown after its destruction and during the Battle of Five Armies, and becomes king of the rebuilt Dale at the end. That’s it. The king of the elves of northern Mirkwood hosts feasts in the forest, gets ticked off when the dwarves keep flailing into them (because they’re lost and starving) and disturb the giant spiders, gets further annoyed when the captured dwarves won’t explain what their mission is, has another feast during which Bilbo helps the dwarves escape, helps the people of Laketown after its destruction, loves jewels and has an old grudge against dwarves (not the dwarves of Erebor, probably related to the Elf-Dwarf enmity of the First Age), leads the Elves in the Battle of Five Armies, etc. But both these men are just simple characters, with no connection to any other characters other than being a member of a race and their leadership, they have no families, barely any background.

However, because Peter Jackson’s adaptation of the Hobbit became three movies, putting a 300-page kids’ book on the same epic level of the 1200-page LOTR, the simplicity of those characters was no longer enough. Legolas becomes a major character in the story, as does Thranduil, and their relationship is prominent. Thranduil gains a deeply personal motivation for his enmity with Thorin’s people and his desire for the Arkenstone (he contracted a necklace from Thorin’s grandfather for his wife, and was cheated out of it), a reason to keep Legolas out of the fighting (his wife was kidnapped by orcs and tortured to death), an angsty thing about love, and much more. Thus the fact that his wife isn’t even named makes her very much a Dead Mother trope and Dead Ladies Club member (LOTR edition). Bard’s example is much less egregious -- however, he too was far more developed with a much greater heroic role, and given three children who also play roles in the story (the daughters are wholly inventions of the movies, as is the son’s personality and actions), and a prominently nonexistent dead unnamed wife. 

So to be quite honest, these Dead Ladies of the Hobbit movies are Peter Jackson’s fault, not Tolkien’s. (Or Guillermo del Toro, or whoever wrote those parts of the scripts, but I’m going to assume PJ.) Yes, it is Tolkien’s fault that by LOTR Legolas is introduced and we know that he’s the son of Thranduil son of Oropher but his mother isn’t mentioned at all -- but hell, if PJ could invent Tauriel, could invent so much about movie-Thranduil (elk riding! dragonfire burns on his face that he hides by magic!), the fact that he made Thranduil’s wife a huge part of his backstory but didn’t bother giving her a name... that’s all on him, sorry. As for Bard’s son Bain, he’s only mentioned in LOTR because humans aren’t as long-lived as dwarves and hobbits and therefore the king of Dale by that point had to be Bard’s grandson, and Brand barely exists but to be in Gimli’s reports that the Black Riders had asked him questions, and to fall in battle in the northern front of the War of the Ring. (Alongside Dain; and that story is only briefly mentioned in the ROTK appendix.) That is to say, yes Tolkien didn’t create Bard’s wife either, but lbr he barely created her son. The fact that in the Hobbit movies Bard’s a widower with 3 kids with no mention of his wife’s personality or name or what happened to her is, again, all on Peter Jackson.

Now, I’m not excusing Tolkien for his severe lack of female characters, especially in the Hobbit. (I think Tauriel’s a great addition to the movies, and only wish they’d gone further with more.) But to reiterate, when Tolkien does have female characters, they all get stories, or close to it in the case of very minor background characters. In the Hobbit consider the “remarkable” Belladonna Took, Bilbo’s mother (who should have been developed in the movies more since they were adding so much already I’m just saying). In LOTR, besides Gilraen, even dead mothers such as Finduilas, Theodwyn, and Morwen get personality sketches. And the Silm goes much much further with women, there’s a huge variety there, minor and major.

Aaaanyway, yes. I do think that if asked, Tolkien would have given tons of details about Legolas’s mother, her history and lineage. (And whether she was still living at the time of the Hobbit and LOTR -- I very much doubt that whole captured by orcs thing would have been part of it, as that’s pretty much a copy of poor Celebrian’s story.) Maybe not so much detail in the case of Bard’s wife (I’d imagine she was also a descendant of the men of Dale), but probably a name at least. But I really don’t think that Tolkien would have ever done the GRRM sort of answer of “Lady Stark. She died.”, or a “I don’t know, probably dead by that time” (re Sandor’s mother’s whereabouts at his burning).

Ah, if only Tolkien had done that 1960s rewrite of The Hobbit (to bring it more in line with the style of LOTR) and not abandoned it...

[averil-of-fairlea]

Believe me

From the Drabble Games:  “If you do this,  you will be dead to me” requested by @blondenacho|| Also incorporating this from @imaginexhobbit “Imagine Haldir asking Galadriel and Celeborn for your hand in marriage because they are the ones caring for you since your parents died​ || Betrothal text from Realelvish.net || Drabble games fics || More Elf fics || Fanfiction masterlist

Author’s note: This is depressing. 

You know what Lord Elrond is requesting without even looking at his correspondence. 

As a member of Lothlorien’s band of trusted messengers, you held the letter in your hand as soon as it arrived, felt the heaviness in it. You can just picture some of those weighty words written in Lord Elrond’s elegant handwriting: aid, battle, men, evil.

As the beloved adopted daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, you know you can use your status to find out exactly what’s inside. Or you can bypass your surrogate parents and pry open the thick parchment. That’s what desperation and anger are telling you to do. Perhaps seeing the actual words will sting less than what you’re imagining.

You quickly dismiss the temptation of impertinence. This is not how you were raised. But because your heart is breaking, you’re about to dismiss your good senses.

“I’m going with you.” 

You make the announcement at the entry of your light-filled home. You haven’t even completely crossed the doorstep.

Haldir, sitting on the ledge overlooking a verdant glen behind the house, waits a full two minutes before answering you.

“You are not.”

Now you step over the threshold.

“I’m a capable warrior, Haldir. You’ve said so yourself. We train together!”

“This kingdom needs you.”

“More than my own husband does?”

“I am a capable warrior as well, meleth nin.”

You can’t stand the ice between you any longer. You run over, sit across from him, and reach for his hands.

“How long before we leave?” you ask.

“I leave in the morning. You are staying.”

The ice is still there. Haldir is trying to make this easier - to stay distant, disconnected. Then the farewell won’t hurt so much. But you’re already hurting. 

You’ve waited literally hundreds of years to be together. Duty, previous conflicts, and betrothals to others that abruptly and tragically ended because of said conflicts kept you at best admirers from afar, and eventually sparring partners. 

The glances and polite nods hid the depth of your unspoken, growing, mutual feelings, until the merrymaking at a kinsman’s wedding feast - and the abundant wine - finally helped bring them forth.

Only a short time passed before Haldir humbly approached your parents for your hand, showing them, and you, complete reverence, beyond even the normal honorable Elven displays.

How you wish for those happier times now. Three hundred years have passed since your vows were spoken before a forest filled with witnesses, and not even the day-to-day swing of wedded life could take away the excitement of love.

Now, you feel as if you hardly know each other, even though Haldir will soon prove to you just how well he knows you.

He looks from the view of the glen to the view of you, his One. The ice breaks, and passion takes over.

You melt into his arms, he melts into you, and the excitement of love returns and replays over the hours that follow.

I’m going with you, I’m going with you, I’m going with you, and you can’t stop me. When you call his name in the throes of ecstasy, this is really what you’re telling him. Part of you hopes he hears it, deep down, and part of you appeals to the Valar that he’s not listening. Maybe you can make it happen. You’ll disguise yourself if you have to - give the group a day’s lead and join them later.

I’m going with you, I’m going with you….

In the wee hours, as you’re still deep in a perfect dream free of war and icy exchanges, he answers you.

You are not.

It still feels like a dream when his lips kiss yours. He leaves another on your forehead.

Then the door shuts, and a new lock clicks. The dream is over. It was over the minute that correspondence arrived. 

“Haldir, NO!” Flipping back the covers, you rush to the door, but you know before you start tugging on the latch that it’s no use.

He tells you it will be opened within an hour by your mother. She will stay with you. She won’t let you leave. They both know you’ll try.

“I can help you and the others fight!” you cry.

He knows you can, he says. He knows you can.

“Then let me out!” 

The warm, secure, content, hopeful person you truly are would never say what comes next.

”If you do this, you will be dead to me.”

You don’t mean that, Haldir says. He knows you’re hurting; he hears you crying. He’s so very sorry.

In Haldir’s next words there is neither ice nor fire, but the simple warmth of an intent he spoke to you long ago. 

“Gi melin, ar aníron gi mestad. Ma innasseg?” I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?

“Innen be inneg,” you respond tearfully, your emotions running as high as the day you first said them. My will is like your will. 

“We will be together again, right here, in our home,” he says. “That is now my will. Let it be yours, my love.”

“I did not mean what I said….” Your voice is so hoarse, and you waited so long before saying it, you’re not sure if he heard you. You call his name, but he doesn’t answer. 

Turning your back to the door, you slide down it, not noticing the note he slipped under the door until your trembling hand makes contact.

Believe me.

[kingofthemirkwoodelks]

Thanduil/Aeglos for she ship thing cause why not

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - eternity

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - rather quickly

How was their first kiss? - softly since they’ve never kissed

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Thranduil

Who is the best man/men? - Elrond

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Galadriel, Arwen

Who did the most planning? - Aeglos

Who stressed the most? - Aeglos

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - none

Sex:

Who is on top? - Thranduil

Who is the one to instigate things? - Aeglos

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - a few hours

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - try to

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - talking about 1-2

How many children will they adopt? - haven’t talked about it 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - both

Who is the stricter parent? - Thranduil

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Aeglos

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Aeglos

Who is the more loved parent? - Aeglos

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? both

Who cried the most at graduation? - both

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Thranduil

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Aeglos

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - neither

Who does the grocery shopping? - both, together 

How often do they bake desserts? - weekends

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - salads

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Thranduil

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - neither 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Thranduil

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Aeglos, with some help from Thrandui

Who is really against chores? - neither

Who cleans up after the pets? - both

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Aeglos

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Thranduil

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Aeglos

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - both, together

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - not often

What are their goals for the relationship? - kids, marriage, being together

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - neither

Who plays the most pranks? - Aeglos