#peredhel if you have to

[g00seg1raffe]

A Very Long Thought about Elrond's Names and Titles

This is the product of at least 15 hours of work, ok, so please be nice.

Scene: Tirion, Valinor. Elrond Peredhel has arrived at his first formal diplomatic meeting. Eönwë looks at the guest-list, does a double take, takes a deep breath, goes through all five stages of grief and starts inventing new ones, shoots a quick prayer to Manwë, and clears his throat.

Elrond’s names and titles in Quenya: Aþëafinwë Elerondo Pereldar, Nelyafinwion Canafinwionyë, néya Orrósurë Taurénë, Eärnedilion Elenvingionyë. Heru Fëanálië, Sánendoredainion, Hísilómedainion, Indor Arcimbele, Aryon Lestanórë Ondolindyë, Tercáno Hildyë Aranion Ílë-Calima, enquëa Noldóran.

(Also Elros’s names in Quenya: Arafinwë Elerossë, Andúsírë Taurildë)

Elrond’s names and titles in Sindarin: Athaefin Elrond Peredhel, Maedhrosion a Maglorion, ni Sûlamrûn Taurín, Gaerdilion a Elwinion. Hîr Nost Fëanor, Bar Beorion a Hadorion, Hîr Imladris, Hîl Dóriath a Gondolin, Taicyll a Hîl Erenion Gil-Galad, enchui Golodharan.

(Also Elros’ names in Sindarin: Arafin Elros, Sîrannûn Tauréd)

If, like me, you're just gonna skim right over all that - try plugging the elvish into Google Translate and getting it to read it aloud for you. Spanish or Italian for Quenya and Welsh for Sindarin. It's not 100% correct and some sounds will be wrong, but it'll give you the general idea.

SECTION 1: names from Maedhros and Maglor

Aþëafinwë Elerondo Pereldar, Nelyafinwion Canafinwionyë

(Arafinwë Elerossë)

Athaefin Elrond Peredhel, Maedhrosion a Maglorion

(Arafin Elros)

Quenya names have three parts: a father name or ataressë (plural ataresser), a mother name or amilessë (plural amilesser), and an optional nickname or epessë (plural eresser).

Ataresser chosen based on my Quenya translation of the hands of a king are the hands of a healer, which I attribute to Maedhros: aranya mát síve aþaya mát. Translated using fin as equivalent to Finwë, as with Curufin.

Aþëafinwë = healing herb Finwë. The root of aþëa is aþaya, to heal, and aþëa aranion is the Quenya name for athelas/kingsfoil. Aranion is also a Quenya translation of Erenion. Sindarin cognate of aþëa is athae, hence Athaefin.

(Arafinwë = noble Finwë. Ara- was chosen as a shortening of Aranye, in tribute to Arafinwë the High King of the Noldor in Valinor, who did an objectively better job - insofar as a king is a healer - at being a king than any of his entire extended family until Gil-Galad and Elros himself. Ara has a similar meaning in both Sindarin and Quenya, hence Arafin.)

Note: thankfully the twins ended up with actually meaningful names after long consideration, unlike Maedhros’ first, sarcastic suggestion of Yet-Another-Finwë and Still-More-Fucking-Finwës. Which, following on from Finwë, Smart-Finwë, Wise-Finwë, Noble-Finwë, Finwë No. 3, Loud-Finwë, Buff-Finwë, Emo-Finwë, Smarter-Finwë, Tiny-Finwë, Valar-Let-This-Be-The-Last-Finwë, Look-Mom-Grandkids!-Finwë and Even-Tinier-Finwë... this is objectively hilarious.

(I'm including Celebrimbor - Inyofinwë Tyelperinquar, grandchild-Finwë silver-fist - and Gil-Galad - Vinyafinwë Aranion, new-Finwë son-of-kings - in this list.)

The twins' amilesser wer almost certainly given by Maglor in Quenya (Maglor being the one who cared to name them first), based on where they were kidnapped from in various drafts of the Silmarillion, before ever being used in Sindarin.

Elerondo = Quenya of the Sindarin Elrond.

(Elerossë = Quenya of the Sindarin Elros.)

The shared epessë runs in the same vein as calling Maedhros, noted red-head, Russandol or copper-top.

Pereldar = Quenya of the Sindarin Peredhel.

The suffix -ion is used in both Quenya and Sindarin to say son of -.

Nelyafinwion in Quenya & Maedhrosion in Sindarin = son of Nelyafinwë & son of Maedhros - Quenya and Sindarin names for the same elf.

Canafinwion in Quenya & Maglorion in Sindarin = son of Canafinwë & son of Maglor - Quenya and Sindarin names for the same elf.

-yë suffix on Canafinwionyë in Quenya & a in Sindarin = and in their respective languages.

SECTION 2: names from Eärendil and Elwing

néya Orrósurë Taurénë, Eärnedilion Elenwingionyë

(néya Andúsírë Taurildë)

nî Sûlamrûn Taurín, Gaerdilion a Elwinion

(nî Sîrannûn Tauréd)

Most Sindarin names appear to be a single name with an optional nickname. However, as a Noldo, Eärendil gave his sons ataresser, and so the names given by Elwing become amilesser.

Ataresser given by Eärendil hint at some form of directions to find Valinor.

Sûlamrûn = the wind east. Sindarin sûl or wind & amrûn or east. Translated into Quenya using the orró- prefix, referring to sunrise and east, and súrë, meaning wind, to make Orrósurë.

(Sîrannûn = the stream west. Sindarin sîr or river/stream here used to refer to an ocean current & annûn or west/sunset. Translated using the andú- prefix, meaning sunset and west and used in Andúril, and sírë, the Quenya of the Sindarin sîr, to make Andúsírë. Annûn is also linked to the Sindarin dûn, as in Dûnedain. See what I did there?)

Amilesser given by Elwing in memory of her brothers, Eluréd and Elurín, who were killed by Fëanorians in a forest, taur meaning forest in both Sindarin and Quenya. A massive guilt-trip, and the reason why both Elrond and Elros refuse to use their original Sindarin names, instead going by their translated Quenya names. 

Taurín = remembrance of the forest. The Sindarin rîn, remembrance, is translated as rénë, memory - thus Taurénë.

(Tauréd = heir of the forest. The Beorian rêda or heir is used, as in Eluréd. Instead of the Quenya for heir aryon, the alternative hildë is used in translation, meaning heir, follower or child. Hildë is the root of the Quenya word for Men: Hildor, which is more fitting for Elros - hence Taurildë.)

The suffix -ion is used in both Quenya and Sindarin to say son of -.

Eärendilion = son of Eärendil. Eärendil is unusual in that we are more familiar with his Quenya name. However it can be translated as Gaerdil - hence, in Sindarin, Gaerdilion.

Elwinion = son of Elwing. The -g is dropped because Elwingion is clunky. Elwing is translated into Quenya as Elenvingë - el and elen both meaning star, and gwing and vingë both meaning foam or spray. Hence, Elenvingion. A side note - the Quenya of Eärendil’s ship is the Vingilótë (Sindarin Vingelot), perhaps named after his wife, Elenvingë?

Néya in Quenya and nî in Sindarin = once, at one time or was, here used to show that they were formerly known by the following names, but these are no longer in use.

-yë suffix on Elenvingionyë in Quenya & a in Sindarin = and in their respective languages.

SECTION 3: Elrond’s Houses

Heru Fëanálië, Sánendoredainion, Hísilómedainion, Indor Arcimbele

Hîr Nost Fëanor, Bar Beorion a Bar Hadorion, Hîr Imladris

Heru = lord. Used in various phrases as a title. Sindarin equivalent - hîr. Both capitalised when written in the Latin alphabet, though elvish doesn’t capitalise letters.

Nost Fëanor = the House of Fëanor. Nost, meaning family, clan or house, also used to describe Nost Finarfin, so it works perfectly. Translated into Quenya as Fëanálië, the company of Fëanor (or rather, the Quenya version of his name, Fëanáro). Lië, meaning folk, is added to the name Tata to make Tatalië, the company of Tata, so the same rule is applied.

The suffix -ion is used in both Quenya and Sindarin to say son of -. The Quenya endain refers to the race of Men, as used to refer to the Men of the West, the Dúnedain. A in Sindarin = and.

Bar Beorion = son of the house of Beor. The Sindarin bar Bëora refers to the house of Bëor. The Beorians are also known as the Men of Dorthonion; Dorthonion, Sindarin for land of the pines, can be translated as Sánendor - hence Sánendoredainion means son of the Men of Dorthonion.

Bar Hadorion = son of the house of Hador. The name Hador is substituted for Beor, with the same meaning: son of this house. The Hadorians are also known as the Men of Hithlum; Hithlum in Quenya is Hísilómë - hence Hísilómedainion means son of the Men of Hithlum.

Indor = a niche Quenya term used specifically for the lord or master of a house - seemed to fit with the way Imladris is referred to as the House of Elrond and the Last Homely House. There is no Sindarin equivalent as far as I can see, so hîr is used again.

Imladris = Rivendell, the name of Elrond’s house. Rivendell in Quenya is Arcimbele.

SECTION 4: Heirships

Aryon Lestanórë Ondolindyë

Hîl Dóriath a Gondolin

Hîl = heir in Sindarin. There are two potential translations into Quenya: hildë, meaning heir, follower or child, but also used as descendant; aryon, a noun meaning heir or prince - literally son of property. In this case, Elrond is heir to the throne of two cities, so the royal aryon is most appropriate, as opposed to the more personal inheritance of a legacy implied by hildë.

Dóriath = Doriath, the Land of the Girdle, ruled over by Elu Thingol and Melian. The Quenya translation is Lestanórë. (Does being descended from Melian deserve a title in and of itself? Melianion?)

Gondolin = Gondolin, literally hidden rock, a city ruled by Turgon. The Quenya name for Gondolin is Ondolindë, meaning singing stone. (Being an heir to the royal House of the King of Gondolin could also add another layer of complexity...)

-yë suffix on Ondolindyë in Quenya & a in Sindarin = and in their respective languages.

SECTION 5: connection to Gil-Galad

Tercáno hildyë Aranion Ílë-Calima, enquëa Noldóran.

Taicyll a Hîl Erenion Gil-Galad, enchui Golodharan.

Tercáno = herald in Quenya, ter being through and cáno being commander. With no direct Sindarin translation, tain or message and cyll or bearer are combined into Taicyll.

Hîl = heir in Sindarin. There are two potential translations into Quenya: hildë, meaning heir, follower or child, but also used as descendant; aryon, a noun meaning heir or prince - literally son of property. Usually, the heir to a throne would be aryon, whilst a person’s next-of-kin or descendant is hildë. Thus Elrond is making a deliberate choice when he translates hîl in this case as hildë rather than aryon - he is Gil-Galad’s chosen next-of-kin, but not a prince or heir to the throne, miss me with that royalty shit.

Erenion Gil-Galad = Sindarin name meaning son of kings and star of radiance. A potential Quenya translation is Aranion - from ara, king, and -ion, son of - Ílë-Calima - form ílë, star, and calima, luminous.

Noldóran = noldor-king, the Quenya term for High King of the Noldor. The Sindarin version is Golodharan.

Enquëa = Quenya for sixth. Sindarin Enchui.

-yë suffix on hildyë in Quenya & a in Sindarin = and in their respective languages.

(FINAL NOTE:  Gil-Galad’s full name in Sindarin and Quenya:

SINDARIN: Finwain Erenion Rôdnaur Finellach Gil-Galad

QUENYA: Vinyafinwë Aranion Artáno Findenár Ílë-Calima

This proof that I’ve just invented means that Gil-Galad has to be Russingon’s lovechild because ain’t no way Irrelevant Estranged Cousin Orodreth the Politically Correct named his kid ‘new-finwë’ and also two other names to do with fire.)

Anyway I'm sure various people will pull more titles out of their asses and make everyone's day even worse (I'd love to hear what you guys come up with) but that's me done for now.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Things that Absolutely Happened while M&M were Raising E&E:

Maglor keeps an ever-growing list of all the weird things they do and tries to figure out whether they're because the twins are part human or part maia. He is frequently wrong.

"Wait, how much do half-elves need to eat?" "I, uh... hmm."

All of the Feanorian followers get really attached to the kids. They regularly argue about who gets to babysit. This is the origin of Elrond's Feanorian Murder-Elf Posse™️.

"Maedhros you cannot give them real swords!" "Why not?" "They're eight!"

The entirety of Amon Ereb freaks out every time the twins get sick. Even if it's just a cold. Yes, they've had human healers tell them it's nothing serious. No, that does not reassure them.

"Just do what I did!" *the twins stare up at him* "Actually no that's terrible advice don't do that."

M&M waking up late at night to see one of the twins, eldritch, glowing, levitating a few inches off the ground and freaking out, only for the kid to be like "dads I threw up :("

E&E shapeshift and all the Feanorians panic because "Oh Eru we lost them!!" Only for them to emerge a few hours later, very confused about why all the adults look so worried

Maedhros makes dad jokes you cannot tell me otherwise

"Well on the other hand... oh wait!"

E&E also hide in Maedhros's cloak all the time

And of course

"NO OATHS!"

[braxix]

If the years that they are dead don't count do you think that Maglor counted the years until he was older than Maedhros? Do you think Elrond was sad when HE passed Maedhros in age?

Galadriel making a note of every time she passed a brother or cousin in age. Would she have been sad when she realized she was now older than all of her cousins that she grew up only knowing them as adults? If Maedhros is older than all of Indis's children then it would be a sad day when she knows she has passed everyone in age(that died, obvious her father, mother, and aunts and such are still older than her) Would she cry when she sees Elrond outliving people?

What about when Elladan and Elrohir start passing people's ages. Would Galadriel look at her little grandchildren that she can barely view as adults and see how young they all were?

[calirph]

𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄 as 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐑 & 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐎 as 𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐋

the rings of power: S02E06.

[sesamenom]

Gil-galad Variations, featuring all the gil galad theories i've encountered.

[maglorslostsilmaril]

worst effect of the peter jackson movies was people getting it into their head that elrond hated aragorn. what. WHAT. did we read the same books.

“and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own”

he grieved that arwen would be parted from him and celebrian!! he didn’t hate aragorn!! he loved him!! omg!!

[galadriels-silmarillion]

Elrond is and I'm sure of it, very beautiful and handsome. That's it. No big explanation, we just know. He is luthien beautiful. I'm standing with that. I'm sure he got some compliments in his time.

[captn-trex]

After the Dust Settles / Elrond x Fem!Reader

summary: Elrond finds you after the fall of Eregion. Startled by the condition he’s in, you’d do anything to bring him the relief he needs.

warnings/tags: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, idiots in love (reader is the biggest idiot, sorry), healthy dose of mutual pining, reader is an elf, some miscommunication, minor injury and blood, smut, fingering, pinv sex, reader has medieval expectations and elrond exceeds because I! say! so!

a/n: alright, first non star wars fic on tumblr, whatever whatever. it’s not gonna become a thing unless... this man has not left my mind since the end of season 2 so here, have this. I am not the most well versed in The Lore pls don’t crucify me for it. [@jetii here it is, as promised]

writing masterlist / join my taglist / read on ao3 / word count: 6k

Since the elves had been afforded sanctuary by the rings, you had been trying to busy yourself with any number of menial tasks to help ease minds, distract your own at all costs. The battle for Eregion had taken not only people’s lives, but the will of the ones who remained, and with what little of your sanity you had left you picked up where others could not face continuing.

You were inside the walls of the city when the orcs attacked, an archer on the last line of defence. The effort was futile, and it had been apparent even before the battle had begun. Watching so many of your kind fall into the clutches of death was more than you had bargained for, and something you wouldn’t soon forget. Your quiver and bow laid at your side, a piece of you unwilling to part from them still. 

Now in the safety of the valley, you had set up a small tent, where people could come to have their ailments tended to with a preferred level of privacy. You were no healer, but they were few and far between in present company, so you did what you could. The curtain of night had been drawn for some time, the first time since the end of the battle, and the amount of patients had dwindled into nothing a few hours ago while the sun still clung to the horizon. You were organising what few resources you did have, crouched to view the label of each vial in the small cabinet, and you missed the light scratching of the tent canvas as it slid open.

Your name was called from behind you in a quiet voice, almost sounding like a plea. You turned, finding your beloved friend Elrond standing rigid in the doorway of the tent, his eyes dark and unmoving from yours. His name left your lips in a hoarse whisper as you took in the sight of him. His skin was marred by dirt and blood, a gash cutting him open along the cheekbone, his posture uncharacteristically slumped and hair falling loosely around his face. He still wore his armour from the battle, painted much the same as his skin.

“I did not know if you—“ he seemed to stop himself from speaking, pressing his lips together as he hung his head. His eyes slid closed, and he took a deep, steadying breath. 

You raised yourself from the ground, taking a tentative step towards him, “what is it, Elrond?” 

His gaze raised to you once more at the sound of your voice, and he shook his head lightly, the tiniest of tired smiles lifting his lips, “I am glad you are safe, is all” 

“And you, my lord” you replied, stepping up to him properly now, and raising your hand to his chin to tip his head to the side. His hair fell across his forehead as you traced a finger along the underside of the cut, inspecting.

“Please, you know that is unnecessary” he insisted, taking another deep breath as he watched you carefully. You knew how the title irritated him so when passing your lips, the reason for its passing every time you saw him. “It does not hurt” he claimed, referring to his cut.

“I hear it’s Commander these days” you paid his comment no mind, instead taking in every small scratch that littered the surface of his skin. Your chest tightened at the sight, at the very idea of the elf before you being hurt, having death breathing down his neck. It was beyond relieving that he had made it through the battle.

Elrond’s face drew a tired expression, one of quiet exasperation at your persistence. His hand took hold of your forearm, “please, you need not fuss”

“It must be cleaned” you asserted, dropping your hands from his face and turning away. 

“Melnā, I do not need—”

“Take a seat” you spoke with no room for argument, ignoring the endearment that made your heart flutter as always, “I will return in a moment” 

Taking a step outside, you let yourself breathe in the night air. It really was beautiful here, the moon shining over the water and casting a cool glow along its surface, the trees gently swaying in the breeze as if cradled in its arms. You collected water from the stream just a short distance from the tent, your mind dwelling on the elf that stood just beyond its entrance.

You had known Elrond for what felt like lifetimes, and for any mortal it would have been. In all that time you had never ceased to be enamoured by him. It was quite impossible not to be. He was kind, giving without thought, an attentive healer and a good friend. Possibly that was why it was so odd that you found yourself in this position, or perhaps that was exactly why. He hadn’t come to you for healing, because that wasn’t what this was about, this was caring for him when he needed it most, whether he’d acknowledge it or not. 

He’d always been affectionate with you, in a way that you could face reciprocating. It was more his words than anything, which was not surprising in the least. Though proven a cunning warrior in surviving the recent conflict, his tongue had always been far sharper than his sword. He spoke with intention only, quiet when words held no meaning, avoiding pleasantries when he could, though he always took the time to spare you words of adulation that felt unearned from such a person.

No matter his insistence in speaking it, you could not return the affectionate nickname he called you; melnā. Beloved. It was too real, striking the very deepest part of your heart, where nothing but your love for him resided, festering.

You pulled aside the canvas of the tent, venturing back inside with the pot of water at your hip. Elrond sat in the chair as you had requested, his head tilted back, eyes closed, weighted down by lack of rest. You had never seen him so defeated. His back was curled against the chair, arms hanging limp against his thighs, one leg outstretched and the other falling out to the side. It was disheartening, to say the least, that this elf you knew to be strong-willed above all else was so beaten, inside and out.

You moved silently, not wishing to disturb his moment of peace. It may be the first chance he had had since the battle, after all. You retrieved a cloth, and tentatively approached his slumped figure. It was the sound of water trickling from the cloth that drew him from his stupor. His eyes opened and found yours as you stood hunched over the pot beside him, his posture straightening, more reminiscent of his usual demeanour.

“My apologies” he murmured.

“Your apologies are unnecessary” you spoke softly, wringing out the cloth, “please, rest if that is what your body calls for”

His brows pinched a little, offering a tender look that tugged at your heart. He was so unused to having kindness offered to him, being the one that so often gave it out, that you knew the simple notion had surprised him.

He slumped against the chair once again, eyes never leaving you as you folded the cloth into a neat square; an unnecessarily proper gesture that would soon be proved pointless as the white material became riddled with dirt and blood. You stepped around the pot so you stood in front of him, and took his chin between your fingers once more, tipping his head to get a better look at the wound. As the cool cloth met the warmth of his skin, all of his breath left him in a sharp exhale.

He flinched away only marginally, evidently trying to remain still against the sting. You whispered an apology, but continued on cleaning his wound until the regular hue of his skin shone through the grime. Thankfully the cut wasn’t deep, and really he was lucky to come away from the fight so unscathed where most fell. Though it didn’t stop the way your chest tightened at the simple idea of him being hurt.

Elrond had always been collected in a particularly admirable way, but now as his frustrations could be seen peeking through the cracks of his noble exterior, you were more worried than anything. Only months ago had he been the bright-eyed elf you knew, full of a certain hopefulness that seemed unending. Now as he sat before you, his grey eyes were dimmed, as if someone had snuffed his spark, the state of Middle Earth turning them cold, clouded. Where they had been the welcome mist of an early morning, there was now a storm brewing in them.

He was much changed from who he was, and your heart broke for him.

“You are hurting” he observed in a low voice. You hadn’t known he’d been watching you so closely.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, “I am unharmed” 

His eyebrows drew together as he turned his head, forcing you to stop your movements. “It is not your body” he claimed, taking your wrist as you tried to continue, “it is your mind”

The feel of his fingers wrapped around your skin, the unwavering scrutiny in his eyes, was dizzying. You tried to deny the way your stomach flipped, butterflies taking flight, but it was made difficult by the raising bumps along your skin, the heat that creeped up your neck.

“I did not realise you could read the thoughts of others, Elrond” you deflected, your tone light, almost jesting.

He scoffed quietly, his grip loosening on your wrist, “it was merely an informed assumption” 

“Informed” you chuckled as you resumed wiping the muck from his face, stepping forward a little, “pray tell?” 

“Your face betrays you” he claimed, turning his head away and spreading his knees wider for your ease.

You sighed, following the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, clenched in pain of either flesh or mind, most likely both. You focused on cleaning the area, gently urging him to relax with smooth motions from his cheekbone down to his chin. His eyes closed with a soft breath leaving his lips, his mouth falling open. 

“It troubles me to see you this way, mellon nín” you confessed quietly, “it is so unlike you” 

He hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a deep frown, “It is just a small cut, it will be fixed in a matter of hours”

“It is not your wound that concerns me” you replied, an edge of stringency that you hadn’t intended. He looked up at you with a timidity to his gaze that was hard to ignore. His guard was up, and it was so foreign to see on his features. “May I speak plainly?”

The smallest smile reached his darkened eyes, “as if you would do anything but” 

A gentle laugh escaped you, creasing your eyes with a fondness before they grew sad. You skimmed the back of your fingers over his clean cheek very lightly, and he turned to face you once more. “I am worried for you, Elrond” you whispered, “you are much changed from the elf I once knew”

He sighed desperately, hanging his head, “it is not by any great effort of my own”

“I am aware” you returned, slipping your hand under his jaw to raise his head. The shame in his eyes was hard to bear, and you stroked your thumb across his cheek in a delicate gesture. “What can be done?”

“You need not worry about me” he assured, “wrongs will be righted in time, it is the way of things.” A long breath passed your lips as you stared down at him, worry never leaving your expression. Elrond lifted a hand to you, flattening his palm against the outside of your knee and rubbing up and down in a comforting manner, “please do not fret, melnā nín“

You could feel your cheeks burn at the endearment, and busied yourself by focusing on the task at hand, threading your fingers through the hair that fell over his forehead to push it back. “You should not call me that” you muttered, dragging the cloth over his temple.

“Why?” he rebutted softly, thumb tracing over the top of your knee, “because I am ‘changed’?” 

You frowned at him, not understanding the question, “because you do not use it for its intended meaning”

The statement made him sit up immediately, his back straightening so he drew closer in proximity, his chest almost flush against you, “why do you assume so?” 

His sudden closeness was as startling as his words, and you were left with your hands in the air, unsure what to do with them, your mouth hanging open and trying to find the right words. “I— I do not take your meaning”

”You believe that I do not mean the words I speak, why is this?” He asked lowly, skimming his hands up the outside of your thighs, resting them at your waist.

To say that you felt flustered would be an understatement. Elrond stared up at you with determined curiosity, a soft seriousness that would make anyone feel cared for, that their words mattered more than life itself. The weight of his hands on your hips was unfamiliar, yet so comfortable, though that was not surprising. This was Elrond, after all. He was impossibly kind and purposeful at the worst of times, a dependable elf beyond measure and in all your years of friendship he had not once seen fit to slight you in any way.

Yes, friendship, because the question of more had always seemed impossible to ask, and thus been unanswered. 

“We are friends, Elrond, I—”

“You are right” he interrupted, removing his hands from your body and sitting back against the chair, “Forgive me”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as his head dropped back, sighing deeply. You didn’t know what the appropriate thing to do was in this specific scenario, but the dirt that he had smeared over his cleared skin was demanding your attention.

“Do not do that” you instructed quietly, taking the dirty hand from his face and sighing deeply as you looked upon it.

You wrung out the cloth into another basin and returned it to the fresh water, then brought it to his hand, kneeling by his side. You felt the weight of his gaze on you as you wiped the dirt from his skin, but refused to indulge in it. It was selfish to seek anything from him in this moment, when he was so broken, in need of someone to care for him.

“You are tired” he observed correctly again. He had always been able to read you far more easily than you were comfortable with.

“Everyone in this valley is tired” you deflected.

“I am not concerned with them at the moment” he spoke resolutely. You finally met his eyes, and the way they shone with intent set your stomach alive, “this is unnecessary. You require rest” 

“Please” you pleaded quietly, “just— let me do this for you, just for this one time” 

He exhaled softly, looking upon you with a pitiful expression as he raised his clean palm to your jaw. His thumb swiped across your cheek, but he pulled away almost right away. “I will…” he trailed off, taking hold of your forearm, “but I won’t have you stationed at my feet like this”

He pulled you up, and then directed you to sit on the arm of the chair, laying your legs across his lap. You obliged, your voice stuck in your throat, and his arm wound around your waist, splaying his palm against your lower back to steady you. 

He gave you a gentle smile, “you may continue, if you wish” 

You nodded, and took his other hand, quickly wiping away every inch of dirt that covered it until you reached the edge of his armour, where the skin was untouched by grime. You then raised the cloth to his neck, and much to your surprise, Elrond dropped his head back with a pensive sigh as his eyes slid closed. Watching every movement he made as you cleaned him, you became more and more entranced. His hand slid to your hip as you ran the cloth under his ear, earning another uneasy exhale, and when you reached the lip of his armour, dragging the white material just below the surface of his tunic, a small shudder wracked his body. 

You had finished your work now, the visage that was once covered by dirt was clean, shining brilliantly in the low candlelight of the tent. Elrond still laid with his head back, and the exposed skin of his neck was all too tempting, beckoning you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and drawing another shaky breath from him. With the confidence that your touch was affecting him in the way you had thought, you took a leap of faith.

His skin was soft under your lips as you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and Elrond’s grip on your hip tightened, his breath stuttering. You placed another gentle kiss against him, this time to the column of his throat, and you watched as it bobbed in reply. Elrond’s other hand now securely held your thigh, tracing circles into fabric of your tunic, and you continued to gently press your lips to his neck, slowly exploring the skin that was now exposed to you.

“Melnā” he whispered in a soft exhale, and you felt your blood running hot. 

“What is it, meleth nín?” you murmured against him, continuing to litter his skin with affection.

Elrond’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he was silent, his breath coming out in shallow pants, as if trying not to be heard. You paused your movements, and awaited his answer. 

“I am not sure you understand what you are doing to me”

You raised your head at his assertion, meeting his dark gaze head on and trying to contain the embarrassment you felt, “I shall stop, we never need mention this again”

Elrond shook his head. “You misunderstand me” he said, sitting up so his forehead met yours, “I would not want you to do this simply because you felt I needed it” 

You frowned, moving your gaze between his eyes and searching for something you weren’t entirely sure of. “I would not deny that” you spoke quietly, and watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features, “but selfishly, it would not be the sole reason”

His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and for a moment he just stared at you, as if to figure out whether or not the words had really slipped from your lips. His hand left your thigh to hold your jaw, closing his eyes as he leant into you, “it does not bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I am… different, as you say?” He murmured in reply, lifting his head so his nose gently rubbed against yours. 

“Elrond…” you sighed as you took his face in both hands, and his eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, “you are not capable of the kind of change that would squander my high regards for you, nor quell my affections”

He exhaled, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, “what would you allow me?” 

“Anything” you replied in a whisper, “everything”

Elrond’s arm tightened around you, and his other hooked under your knees as he slowly stood from his seat, taking you with him. He kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over to the bed you had set up, and finally you could see some of the darkness receding from them. If you were to serve as a distraction for him, with nothing given in return, then you would do it gladly, no matter the pain in your heart. You knew it was foolish, to allow yourself to be burned at his stake, but when he treated you so gently, as if you were precious, as if you’d break if he released you, you didn’t seem to care. 

He placed you down on the thin mattress, moving to remove his armour before you protested. “Allow me” you directed him to sit down instead, and knelt in front of him to slip off the pieces of his armour without another word. The process felt almost religious, a ritual of sorts, each piece falling away to reveal his slender form. You stacked the pieces neatly to your side, taking care not to damage the fine craftsmanship, despite it being designed for that express purpose. 

When the last piece was placed down, you finally lifted your eyes back to him. Your insides buzzed with nervous energy, but you couldn’t lose your confidence now, and so you placed your hands on his thighs, sliding them upwards as you raised to your knees. For a moment you just took him in, his weary smile, the tiredness in his eyes, slack jaw. He was so fatigued, and to offer him some semblance of tenderness in this state felt like a monumental privilege. His hands found your body, sitting comfortably at your waist, and you were snapped back into the moment.

“You do not need to do this” he reminded, gently kneading your skin to bring you closer. 

You shook your head, “I want to, if you’ll allow me” 

His expression softened further, “you need not ask, my love”

You nudged his jaw upwards with your nose, planting a kiss just beneath and making his body deflate in relief. You drew a slow path towards his ear as your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. Every movement you made was calculated, a precise act, aimed to release any lingering tension that he held within his body. You tried hard not to lose yourself in his presence, in the natural scent of his skin, in the feel of his breath against your own neck, and succeeded by focusing on every sensation as it arose, keeping yourself present. 

You slowly peeled back his shirt, allowing you access to the skin below, but before you could explore any further, Elrond’s voice cut through the silence.

“Stand for me” he said lowly, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke and causing a shiver to run down your back, desire pooling low in your stomach.

You obliged right away, pushing off of the floor to stand before him. First, he took you calf and slid one shoe from you, and then repeated the action for the other foot. He took hold of the ties that were holding your tunic up and slowly untied you from the material. The fabric slid from your shoulders with ease, pooling around your ankles on the floor. The chill of night, barely concealed by the tent, blew against your bare skin, nipping at you as the edge of self-consciousness did in the same moment. You were bare to Elrond now, and his hands traced down your sides as he took in the sight, a certain reverence to his gaze that sent your mind towards puzzlement.

As his hands reached your thighs, he pulled you slowly towards him, positioning you over him so you straddled his lap. Before you could continue the exploration of his skin, his own lips made contact with your shoulder, and he littered kisses downwards along your collarbone, languid motions that made your head spin. You breath caught in your throat as his hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh, and you let out a choked exhale when you felt his fingers dip between your folds. Your head fell forwards, resting your forehead against his shoulder as he continued his efforts, tracing circles around your sensitive bud, which only made your breath heavier and heavier.

You panted his name, disbelief colouring your tone, not expecting him to pay any attention to your needs. It would have been ample to care for him, but receiving it back, you realised just how much you needed it. The battle had been tough on you as well, and the way that your body relaxed under his touch reminded you of that fact.

A small chuckle left his lips at your incredulity. “You did not expect this?” He deduced correctly once again. You couldn’t answer, for the way his fingers expertly played against you was rendering you unable to speak. “You thought I would neglect you in this way?”

“I… n— yes?” you stuttered out unsurely, silenced by your own moan at Elrond doubling his efforts.

“Mm, as I thought” he teased lightly, his voice low as his lips drew near to your ear. You breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your lips sealed for the fear of what sounds might erupt if given the chance. Not trusting yourself to stay quiet, you buried your face in his neck. Elrond hummed disapprovingly, “I want to hear you, pretty one”

Urging you on in his request, Elrond slowly slipped his fingers past your entrance, taking his time to coax every possible ounce of pleasure from you, and earning a shaky moan against his neck. 

“That’s it” he cooed, his other hand kneading the skin of your waist in time with the fingers that worked inside of you, “I have you”

His words reminded you I’m an instant that this was not to be the purpose of this endeavour, and your hand flew to his wrist, pausing his movements. “Elrond, this was supposed to be for your benefit”

Elrond shook his head. “That may have been your intention” he withdrew his fingers a little before sinking them back inside, “but I can see that you are just as weary as I”

“No, I—” your hips twitched forwards instinctively as he picked up his pace, “I insist”

”Do you?” He said in an amused rumble.

You tried to regain authority over your ragged breath, some semblance of control over your body, but Elrond was playing you like a harp. He strummed the strings of your pleasure like he knew the tune by heart, every movement instinctive and adept, swells in dynamic that built up towards a climax. You were getting there quickly far quicker than anticipated. The pads of his fingers pressed against your walls, the base of his palm working your clit, and you could feel everything within you pulling taut.

“Elrond—” his name fell from your lips in a needy whisper.

“What do you need?” He replied quietly, never faltering in his pace.

“I—”

The question confounded you. Never before had you been asked such a thing, not in the height of pleasure at least. Your mind couldn’t wander far given the situation, but for a moment you tried to produce an answer for him.

“Tell me” he urged again, more insistent now, “what do you want?”

“I want—” the minor difference in wording, with the added knowledge of Elrond’s cock straining against his trousers and pressing against your leg, brought the answer to you more readily. “I want… you, Elrond” you breathed out, hips buckling against him to punctuate your point.

An uneasy groan sounded in his throat, reverberating against your cheek as you remained pressed against him. He pulled his fingers from you quickly, and within the next second he had flipped you over so you were beneath him. You reached for the tie of his trousers as he did, eager to remove the final piece of clothing that restricted him from you.

Elrond slotted himself between your legs to the tune of your small whimper, but he paused. His face hovered above you, his eyes flicking between yours, searching. It was as if he was waiting for something, but you couldn’t decipher what.

“You have not kissed me” he muttered, his eyes briefly flicking to your lips before his steadfast gaze returned to yours.

Your eyes widened a little at the observation, unsure of the waters you were about to dip your toe into, “you would let me?”

The expression on Elrond's face as he pulled back was purely scandalised, his brows settled in a deep frown, “whatever do you mean?” 

“I—” you tried to find the words to express what you had previously thought, but now it all sounded ridiculous. 

“You believe I do not—” words failed him in a moment of disbelief, and then his expression softened once more, his palm resting against your cheek, “meleth nín, forgive me for such unkind words, but… you are a fool”

Your brows drew together a little. He had never called you anything of the sort, but knowing him, ever intentional with his words, you didn’t doubt that he was right.

“To doubt my deep affections for you is to deny the very rising and setting of the sun. Do you truly think so lowly of me that I would allow you this without returning your desire in equal measure?”

You could only blink up at him after such a confession, but once his words began to sink in, you realised the depth of your folly. Of course the reverence in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch, was not because anyone was giving him this kind of affection, but because it was you. The thought struck you so suddenly that you became breathless, your cheeks heating. To engage in this act, usually reserved for marriage, he must have more admiration for you than you gave him credit for. Elrond was right, you were a fool.

“I do not” you spoke resolutely, “I have only the highest of regards for you” 

“Then hear me now” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing, “I have waited centuries to embrace you in this way. Every moment in your presence has been excruciating, longing for more than what I thought possible, waiting for the day that you changed your mind about me. Now that the day has finally arrived, I do not intend to spare you such an intimacy without knowing the taste of your lips”

“Elrond…” you whispered, reaching up to mirror his palm against your cheek, “my mind remains unchanged. This is the way I have always felt” 

His eyes widened, a light scoff escaping him in complete surprise, “then we are both fools”

“I believe you may be right” you chuckled at his reaction, you hand tangling in his curls with the reward of a delighted sigh. The look of contentment on his face was enough to melt you into the fabric of the sheet you laid upon. “You are so beautiful, melnā”

Elrond rested his forehead against yours, “what ever beauty I possess pales in comparison to the fortune of looking upon such fair features as yours”

“Such flowery words” you lips quirked, teasing his lyrical ways. 

Elrond chuckled, skimming the pad of his thumb across the skin beneath your eye, “you are worth the time it takes to speak them, my love”

At long last, Elrond brought his lips to yours. He kissed you firmly, deeply, every bit of his usual sincerity woven into the action, and you quickly lost yourself in him as you had aimed to prevent before. His hands roved your body in featherlight touches, mapping the shape of you as his kisses grew more insistent. 

Soon he began to explore past the bounds of your lips, traveling along your jaw. His breath ghosted over your ear, pausing for only a second, before he gently brushed his lips against it. Your breath caught in your throat, almost choking by the uneasy rhythm of it as he grazed his teeth against your earlobe. It was the first time anyone had ever touched your ears, and the gesture was so uniquely intimate, so undeniably pleasurable, that you couldn’t help the way your finger’s tightened in Elrond’s curls. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing his body closer. The both of you moaned in tandem as his hardened length came into contact with your core, Elrond whispering a curse as he buried his face in your neck. He repeated the action with more intention, taking hold of his cock to run it through your folds, slick with arousal. Your breath shortened as he circled your clit with the tip, your mind becoming hazier. Elrond lifted his head and pressed his forehead to yours, and you felt his shaky breath against your lips. The question was clear in his eyes, asking for your permission, and you tightened your legs around him to reply. 

His tip passed your entrance, stretching you open in the most pleasant way. The melody of your moans only intensified as he slowly sank into you, his hand gripping your hip tightly. His eyes were screwed shut, and he swore under his breath again, his lips brushing yours in the process. He released his hand from your hip, smoothing over the skin that he had held so tightly, as if to soothe any hurt he had caused. If he had, you hadn’t noticed.

Elrond pulled out almost completely, before he sank back in with a slow roll of his hips. He set a steady pace at first, both of you just revelling in the feel of being so connected, so close. He brought his lips to yours once more, taking his time to really taste you, to feel every movement so deeply. 

His hands smoothed down your sides as he pulled away slightly to gaze down at you, goosebumps raising under his touch. “You are so perfect” he spoke reverently, his tone nothing short of worshipping, and you could feel your cheeks flush, even now. The change in angle had your back arching, and as a heavy moan left your lips, Elrond gripped your hips tightly again. It seemed that something in him snapped after that, any restraint that he had demonstrated melted away, and letting what desire coursed through his veins take ahold of him.

His pace was fracturing then, his breath heavy against your skin as he leaned over to paint affection across your collarbone and chest. His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen, taking a path downwards that had you already writhing at the anticipation. He drew tight circles around your clit, and combined with the feel of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting the deepest parts of you, you were ready to come undone in a matter of seconds.

“That’s it, meleth nín. Let go for me” he whispered against your ear, the added sensation of his lips against the sensitive area making your orgasm rip through you almost immediately. 

Your vision blurred, white hot bliss searing through your veins as you were pushed over the edge, and Elrond followed you over, letting out a low grunt as he spilled all of himself inside of you. He held himself over you as he regained his breath, meeting your eyes again and letting a fatigued grin lift his lips, his eyelids heavy.

You pulled him down and into a slow kiss, your hands on the back of his neck, gently tugging at the curls at the base of his head. He brought his forehead to yours as you broke the kiss, and wound an arm around your waist to hold you tightly to him. 

“You know…” he began, something playful in his eyes, mouth twitching with a smirk, “in the eyes of some, this would make us husband and wife”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I could live with people believing that”

Elrond hummed amusedly, gently tracing his nose along yours in a tender gesture. “Do not think of this as my proposal” he murmured, “one day, I shall ask you properly” 

[winwin17]

Elrond really couldn't even be Aragorn's godparent without renaming him something that started with an E (Estel) to fit in with the family theme/tradition.

[pastexistence]

rings of power got me feeling like a war widow every time elrond isn't in an episode

[insomnimoni]

fellas how we feelin w this description for an upcoming elrond fic 🫣

are we ready for some angst ?

[g00seg1raffe]

Y'all the worldbuilding is getting intense rn, I'm having so many thoughts, because Elrond is a mosaic of dozens of different people, so many facets and multitudes, and different people see different things in him. People see his starry grey eyes and dark hair and hear his Voice and think of Lúthien, think of Maglor. They see his braids and attribute it to Turgon’s preference for traditional styles rather than that well-known Fëanorian obsession. His gracious courtly manners are from Melian or Idril, though clearly taught by Maedhros, who learned from Finwë. His skills and wisdom and bearing are clearly passed down from any or all of the 20+ different kings, queens, lords and princesses he is associated with. He dances like Lúthien and Idril. He is as courageous as Fingon and Beren and Eärendil, as fierce in battle as Fingolfin and Maedhros and, Eru forbid, Fëanor. He speaks archaic Quenya, just like the Gondolindrim, if only one ignores the Fëanorian accent. His giggle is Elwing’s, birdlike and odd; his laugh is rich and merry like Finwë’s; that half-despairing chuckle is Beren’s; the endearingly awkward titter is Finarfin’s; the exhilarated whoop is Fingon’s; the manic mid-battle cackle is Fëanor through and through. He fights left-handed like Eärendil and Maedhros, plays the harp right-handed like Fingon and Finrod and Maglor; he can write with either hand, producing a spindly scrawl with his left (so like Maedhros, so like Elwing) and authoritative calligraphy with his right (so like Fëanor, so like Thingol). His eyes are the chasm of the heavens - he gets that from Melian - but did Maeglin not also inherit his piercing gaze from Aredhel? He has his father’s jaw and his mother’s hair, or was it Turgon’’s jaw and Finwë’s hair, or maybe those angular bones came from fair Nimloth and the little flick of a curl at his temple from Beren. In certain lights he’s the spitting image of Thingol - or was it Fingolfin? The tilt of his wrist is as bird-like and fragile as Dior’s, as graceful and deliberate as Idril’s. His cheeks dimple when he smiles, just like Fingon, and his eyes crease when his face softens with fondness, just like Tuor, who looks little like Haleth but in moments like this. When he’s concentrating, the furrow of his brow is Thingol’s and the lip between his teeth is Beren’s, who took after Bëor. That eyebrow raise brings to mind 15 different people, all of them dead. One may look at Elrond and see a lost loved one in his profile, until the light shifts just slightly and he becomes the one who killed them, before he turns his head just so and suddenly looks like a complete stranger. Elrond is a Silmaril of ghosts, each facet a memory, love and terror and awe and joy and grief reflected and refracted upon one another again and again, radiant, hypnotic, infinite.

[thesummerestsolstice]

One of my most deranged Silm headcanons is that Elrond and Thranduil were meant to have an arranged marriage. Look, Oropher was well aware that the reemergence of Elu Thingol's heirs might not be a great thing for his claims to the throne. The obvious solution? Marry one of them into his family! They were about the same age as his son, after all. And it had to be Elrond, partially because Elros had picked mortality and partially because Elrond had already been identified as the "nice one" of the twins.

It really didn't help that Thranduil looked a fair bit like Thingol (especially for an unrelated elf), Elrond looked a lot like Melian, and many of the old Iathrim were still really not over losing their first king and queen. So Thranduil and Elrond got engaged to great joy (from almost all of the Sindar) and great awkwardness (from Elrond and Thranduil).

Now, Oropher thought this was a marvelous idea! He could secure his claim to the throne, please many of his nobles, and secure some ainur blood for his family all in one fell swoop.

(The running rumor was that Melian had created Luthien via a magical ritual with her and Thingol's blood, so he wasn't too worried about the fact that Elrond and Thranduil were both men. They could just brew up some grandchildren for him with Elrond Maia powers, no problem.)

Eventually, Thranduil was able to talk his father own and convince him that the arranged marriage was, in fact, a bad idea; and that Elrond, in fact, had no interest in challenging Oropher's kingship.

So Elrond and Thranduil never got married. They did become great friends, though, and legally, the engagement was never dissolved. They still decide to be obnoxious about it sometimes.

[braxix]

Elrond: Men have invented this thing called Democracy. We should try it.

Galadriel: You know, you'd be the popular vote. Do you really want to give them a way to vote you in as king?

Elrond: Right. If I get voted in I am making this a totalitarian dictatorship and you all have to work ten hours a day, six days a week, and the taxes will be 10%.

Erestor: Worth it.

Elrond: No!

Celeborn: What about Technocracy?

Galadriel: What the fuck is technocracy?

Celeborn: You'd be elected based on what you're skilled at. Usually based around scientific or technical masteries.

Galadriel: Brilliant. Cirdan can rule then.

Elrond: I have this sinking feeling someone would find a loophole to still elect me.

Erestor: Would you like me to point it out, m'lord?

Elrond: No...

[aran-morinorea]

Co ruling Mordor for the wips? (Good luck in your medical appointment! I know that they can be difficult a lot of the time)

Celebrimbor adjusted some of Tar-Glóriel’s jewelry with his free hand, saying, “In your hearing? Annatar,” a name which Elrond hadn’t been aware Tar-Glóriel was still using, “Your hearing encompasses the whole damn tower.”

Annatar - Tar-Glóriel - Celebrimbor’s husband pouted, and glittered, and said, “You can take him out into the city! Please? It’ll be so much easier not to plot his murder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Celebrimbor, somehow still appearing entirely unconcerned. Elrond, for his part, was not even breathing.

[meadowsofmay]

stoopid headcanon but i find it funny:

thranduil and elrond be doing the 'catch-up after THE catch-up' talk, the one that mother's do when it's time to leave but 'oh, here's the cake', 'oh, have you heard?', 'i do have a remedy for that, hold on'. and it can go for hours.

(horsemen don't even get the horses ready after the first call anymore because they just know that elrond and thranduil will stand at the top of the staircase and talk-talk-talk).

so, imagine young legolas sleeping on the steps, just a little lower the spot where lord elrond and his father be talking without a stop, because he is tired little leaf and arwen and elladan and elrohir are in beds already and legolas is yet to leave imladris. why do they even leave into the night when they all know this happens every single time?!