#peredhel oc

[queers-gambit]

Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[temporarily-your-saint]

Under the Stars

A Rings of Power fic has been brewing inside of my brain but unfortunately Elrond will be going through so much pain... As if he hasn't been through it enough. :') BUT. I really wanted to give him a soft and sweet moment, so here we are. Our sweet summer boy deserves only love. <3

Word count: 3.8k

Warning(s): none, kissing??, some (lil bit) of spice??? more like suggestive spicy?

Themes: Friends to lovers, mutual pining, sort of submissive elrond??? hehehe

Also all translations are at the end!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Elrond could always be found underneath the golden trees that surrounded Lindon, Írimë could be sure of that.

The elleth watched her dear friend from afar, awestruck by the scene before her. The half-elf seemed to glow underneath the mallorn trees, almost shining while he wrote his poetry and speeches for the king. 

She always admired his passion for the melodic words that danced along the pages and never grew tired watching his quill flick skillfully. After a moment, her legs finally moved through the field and towards the king’s harold.

As she approached, his gaze continued to stay fully enveloped within the binded pages, unaware of her presence. 

“My heart sings to see that not much has changed,” her voice rang, breaking the silence.

Elrond, slightly startled, smiled when he heard the familiar voice. His eyes flickered to her face and then down her body, taking in her figure with a subtle glance.

"Írimë? Is that really you?" He spoke calmly as he stood up from his sitting position atop the tree and stepped forward to approach her. "It's been a while. You haven't changed a single day."

As he grew closer to her, she reached out and placed a hand against his cheek. “Neither have you, mellon nin,” she breathed as her thumb brushed against his skin, tenderly just beneath his eye.

Warmth immediately poured over her as they greeted one another. It had been years since the two had seen one another and by the Valar, she had truly missed his affable smile. While years in the lives of elves passed swiftly and without much notice, she had still ached to lay her eyes upon him once again.

A light blush trickled along Elrond’s cheeks as his eyes danced across her face. “I’ve missed you, my dear friend,” he spoke softly.

She couldn’t help but beam with happiness at his words, a smile never leaving her lips. Her bright blue eyes stared into his gray orbs, not daring to look away.

“And I you,” her voice whispered. The elleth’s heart pumped quickly as her stomach filled with butterflies.

His hands wrapped around her one that had held his cheek and brought it down between them. She could let him hold her there in place for centuries if Eru Ilúvatar allowed it. 

He squeezed her hand gently, feeling the warmth of her touch while his gaze held hers as it shined with merriment and affection.

Gods, had he missed her.

The half-elf studied her features, captivated by the beauty of the elleth. A strange but not unpleasant flutter raised inside his chest. He always thought she was beautiful; any being that roamed Arda could see she was well-favored by the gods, but something felt different now.

“There was not a day that went by when I did not think of you,” he admitted, voice just above a whisper.

His forward words only quickened her pulse more. She wasn’t so sure her heart wouldn’t fully beat out of her chest at this point for she would melt under his gaze if he wasn’t currently keeping her grounded, holding her hand between his two.

“Surely I didn’t cloak your thoughts too much,” she teased him, a smile dancing across her lips.

Elrond let out a soft huff of amusement at Írimë’s teasing. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze and shook his head with an affectionate smile as he spoke, "You know very well that you have always occupied a significant amount of my thoughts," he replied in a teasing tone of his own.

He brought her hand up and pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her palm. It was a small yet intimate gesture.

Elrond had always been fond of the elleth before him. He hadn’t always noticed the peculiar feeling for it only seemed to grow stronger within the past years that had passed. And here she was before him once again. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity this time to tell her.

“Elrond…” she breathed, unable to formulate a witty response. He was being serious.

His lips…His eyes…The way he peered into her soul dizzied her senses. She had noticed Elrond looking at her differently the last time she was in his presence and now…Here he did it once again.

Elrond watched her reaction carefully. He saw the way her breath caught in her throat and he heard the slight tremble in her voice. His heart beat a little faster, his breath catching in return.

His thumb traced idle circles on her palm, the contact between them making his skin tingle. Elrond swallowed tightly, meeting her gaze with a gaze full of sincerity.

"Írimë... I have wanted to tell you... that I..."

His voice trailed off, his words failing him. How could he tell her that he felt for her without sounding foolish?

“Yes…?” Wide eyes stared into his own, searching for answers. Something… anything.

Írimë felt like she was on fire. Blood pumped through her veins that felt like lava—heavy, scolding. Pink lips parted as she licked her lips.

Elrond hesitated, struggling with how to properly articulate the storm of emotions he felt inside. He swallowed again, swallowing his last remaining doubts.

He brought her hand up to his chest, placing it right over his rapidly beating heart. The warmth of her palm pressed against him nearly made him shiver.

"Írimë... I have come to realize...”

Every passing moment made her heart boom louder. Her hand placed over his heart was so intimate, so raw. He wanted her to feel his heartbeat. 

And she did.

Before he could finish, a loud voice came barreling over the hill, running toward them through the grass.

“Írimë! Elrond!”

The voice broke their trance, not allowing Elrond to finish his words. Gods, how she needed him to finish those words.

She stepped back, allowing some space between her and the half-elf before her as she retracted her hand. Her gaze met a familiar figure walking towards them. 

“Vorohil!” She exclaimed, welcoming her old friend.

Elrond's heart felt heavy inside of his chest, the moment stolen from him just as he was about to confess his true feelings. He took a step back as well, his shoulders slightly slumped in defeat.

As Vorohil approached, Elrond looked up, his expression slightly irritated at the interruption. He had been so close to speaking up, so close...But now there was no chance of picking up from where he had left off. The mood between the two souring now that Vorohil had joined them.

"Vorohil," Elrond said in greeting, forcing a small smile.

The ellon acknowledged Elrond with respect and then rested upon the raven-haired elleth. “I heard you just arrived. I have come to fetch you for the feast!”

Írimë grasped her dear friend’s forearm and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you, my dear friend,” she said softly. Her bright eyes then met Elrond’s gaze, “Shall we join?”

The half-elf let out a soft sigh, his disappointment still evident on his face. However, he offered her a small, reluctant smile and nodded, "Yes, let us be on our way."

As they began walking, Elrond fell into pace beside her, their shoulders brushing slightly. He kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back to stop himself from reaching out to her again. The words that he had wanted to say lingered on the tip of his tongue, yet he held them back once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The feast was a splendid affair. Food was plentiful and wine flowed freely. Music played in the background, filling the air with cheerful, light elvish tunes.

Elrond walked beside Írimë, though his earlier enthusiasm had wilted slightly. He occasionally stole glances at her but made no attempt to resume their earlier conversation. His heart ached with unspoken words, yet he couldn't bring himself to speak them, not with so many peers around.

Írimë made her rounds throughout the evening. It had been many, many moons since she had last seen the trees of Lindon. How she had missed it so…

A familiar gaze lingered on the elleth though she welcomed it. She knew he watched her. Their keen senses made it near impossible to ignore. She found herself biting her lips more than not, swinging her hair, and smiling more than not as Elrond watched. The half-elf had such a peculiar way of affecting her; it was like she was a young elleth once again the way she yearned for his gaze.

And he noticed it all. The way she strode with more confidence and grace, the way she flipped her waves of midnight hair around, the way her smile glowed.

Every movement she made, every gesture, he absorbed them all, devouring them like a sweet dessert. 

His gaze lingered, continuing to watch her closely, trying to memorize every detail. The half-ellon’s fingers squeezed the chalice he held.

The more time passed, the more his heart longed for her, desperate to reach out and touch her, to speak the words that were dying to leave his tongue.

As the feast went on, Elrond eventually found himself able to slip away. He walked outside into the cool night air, his heart still pounding in his chest. He couldn't stay inside anymore, being so close to Írimë yet unable to speak to her; it had become too much to bear.

He ran his fingers through his curly locks, feeling tired and frustrated as he stared off into the night sky. "If I could just have one moment alone with her," he muttered to himself.

“Who is this elleth my dear friend frets over?” The very voice he daydreamed of rang through the air as she approached Elrond. 

He gave a small huff of laughter in response to her question as he turned toward her, "You heard that, did you?"

Her eyes narrowed curiously at him. As he spoke, he wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead talking into the distance as he turned back away from her.

Taking a sip of the wine he held, he sighed, "She is someone I cannot seem to get off my mind, even for a single moment. She occupies my thoughts from dawn to dusk, filling my heart with a melody I have never felt before."

His words cut into her. Was she being farcical? Was this an unknown lover of his? Or…?

She sighed and took a large gulp of wine from her own chalice. The sweet wine from the First Age coated her tongue and warmed her insides. “A lucky elleth,” her voice strained. “You must write poetry about her…” She whispered as her eyes turned down.

Do not shed tears, she thought to herself. 

Her response startled Elrond. It was almost as if she... as if she didn't seem happy for him. Or, perhaps, jealous? But surely not. He shook his head slightly, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

Írimë stood beside him, looking out into the late evening.

Elrond looked over at her, his gaze fixing on hers. He could see the forced smile spread across her lips and he knew that there was something deeper behind her words.

"I have written many poems about her," he admitted, his voice quiet. "She is my muse, my light, my everything."

Her voice hitched in the back of her throat. His everything… His words echoed throughout her very being.

She swallowed hard and met Elrond’s eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears. “This elleth must feel only warmth and sunlight then,” her voice came out as a whisper.

Elrond could hear the hitch in her voice, the barely concealed pain in her words. His heart ached hearing the sadness that coated her tongue.

He took a step closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You do not sound as if you are happy for me, Írimë. Do my words cut you?"

Their bodies almost touched. Her heart pounded as the tears began to swell over. Tears streamed down her pink cheeks as blue eyes searched Elrond’s. 

A forced smile still strained on her lips as she spoke, “I wish you nothing but happiness, mellon nin.” 

She avoided the question, only wanting to relieve him but the pain was too much. Until it hit her. I love him. The words ran through her mind as realization kicked her in the chest.

The sight of Írimë’s tears broke him. Seeing the pain in her eyes, hearing her voice crack and her forced smile... He couldn't bear it anymore. But he needed to know why. Needed to hear her say it.

"You wish me happiness yet the sight of me talking about another pains you so," he said softly, taking another small step forward.

He reached up, gently brushing away her tears with his thumb. His gaze pierced hers as he spoke, “Tell me, Írimë. Why does this make you grieve?"

His question echoed through her mind. She had to tell him. Needed to. Though she felt foolish to love him if he was already promised to another. How could she do that to such a friend like him?

But what if she never told him? She would have to endure and watch him love another. Could she handle that?

Trembling lips parted as whispered words fell from her lips, “I remember when we were younger. You always wiped away my tears.”

A wavering smile crept upon her lips as she looked up at him. “You have always looked out for me, even knowing that I did not need it. Always tended my wounds. Always filled my heart with nothing but warmth and joy,” her eyes searched his, almost pleading as she spoke. 

Her hand reached up to cover his own that lingered on her cheek as his thumb wiped away the wet remnants.

“When your face fills my dreams, I sigh with comfort and happiness. When your skin meets mine,” she began as she turned her cheek inward toward his hand, placing a soft kiss in the middle of his palm. 

Her eyes met his again. “A current runs through me as if something becomes awakened when we touch. A wildfire that cannot be contained. A light that can never be diminished. You are as bright as daylight and warm as summer, Elrond.”

Elrond's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to her words. Every sentence, every sentiment... It was everything that he had been waiting for. Every bit of validation that he needed, it was in her words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The tear-stained face, the trembling lips, the hand on his... It was so raw, so open, so vulnerable, and yet so beautiful. He ached to say something, anything, but he was frozen in place. He could only stare at her, his face mirroring every emotion that ran through him.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely more than a whisper, "My dear Írimë, I... I never knew...I wanted to…"

His eyes flicked down to her trembling lips, his heart pounding louder and louder in his chest. The hand on her cheek moved down, tenderly cupping her face as his thumb brushed over her lips.

She sucked in a breath at his touch, closing her eyes in the process. A slow exhale left her lips as she slowly looked up at him.

The way she looked up at him was entrancing. Eyes of blue wide, pleading for him yet sad. She had never wanted something so badly in her immortal life. 

His finger brushed against her bottom lip again, softly pulling on it and then brushing it over. An agonizing ache reached below her stomach from the way his eyes bore into hers. He felt her breath hitch at his touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment once more.

“The elleth is you, meleth nîn,” his voice whispered. He placed both hands on either side of her cheeks as she looked up at him.

Everything fell into place at his words. The elleth is you, he had said. 

“Elrond,” her voice squeaked. 

A wave of relief washed over Elrond. Every ounce of tension left him as he heard the relief in her voice, knowing that he hadn't made a terrible mistake. He had never felt so vulnerable yet so complete at the same time. His thumb traced over her cheek gently, feeling the smooth skin beneath his touch.

"Írimë," he whispered back, his eyes roaming her face as if trying to memorize every little fleck of cerulean in her eyes, every curve, and every freckle on her skin.

He bent down and rested his forehead against hers. The two closed their eyes and shared breaths in the silence. She placed her hands over his own, her touch sending yet another shiver through him.

After a moment, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

When Írimë’s whispered words reached his ears, it was like a dam had burst.

The words had barely sunk in before he leaned in and hungrily pressed his lips to hers.

Long, slender fingers gently wove into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. Their bodies close, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her like a fire. All the years of longing, of hidden desires, were suddenly let loose in the kiss. His heart pounded in his chest, feeling as if it had finally found its home.

His other hand slid down, curling around her waist, pulling her in even closer, holding her against his body, as if trying to merge their very beings.

She could almost feel their souls become one as his lips pressed against hers. The hungry kiss released everything she had been feeling for him. Everything she wanted to envelop into words but did not have the ability.

They let their lips speak for them as the kiss deepened and he pulled her tighter into him. She could feel him, feel everything beneath his linens. 

A moan fell from her lips as his tongue danced with her own. She reached up, letting one hand curl into his dark locks. 

“Elrond…” her voice gasped his name. 

He felt every sound that left her lips—every soft gasp, every whisper, every moan. It was like music to him, the most beautiful symphony that his ears and soul had ever composed. Only the welcoming melody to Valinor could compare to this.

His hands wandered over her body as his tongue moved against hers, feeling her every curve, his touch desperate and hungry, yet tender and gentle.

Nothing else mattered in that moment but them. The dark night hid their figures outside, luckily, as their bodies intertwined. 

Her hand slid down through his hair, making its way next to his ear. Her fingers brushed over the pointed tip and she heard him whimper. Finally, she thought. 

The pointed ears of elves were incredibly sensitive, especially when senses were heightened. And they were left only to the touch of those that were promised, only to the most precious of close loved ones.

A jolt of pleasure shot through his body as her fingers glided over his ear. He had never felt something like it before, the sensation so intense, so intimate, that it almost overpowered all judgment. He let out a small gasp against her mouth, his body tensing up briefly before relaxing again.

His mind clouded, his focus entirely on her and the way she touched him. He pulled back from the kiss, breathless, and looked into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost dizzying.

"Do that again," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

She had never heard his voice like this before. It was so gruff yet, he was begging? Or was that a command? She intended to find out.

Darkened eyes stared up into his piercing grays. Her thumb slowly, and barely even touching the tip of his ear, slid across the sensitive skin.

She watched his brows furrow and eyes close. No, she thought.

“Look at me, meleth nin,” her voice commanded, breath against his lips. Her thumb then traced down the outer part of his tapered ear.

Elrond's breath hitched in his throat as she touched him again, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head with the sensation. But the sound of her voice pulled him back into focus, a mixture of command and desire in her tone.

His eyes slowly drifted open, finding hers. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest, his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath. His fingers traced along her waist, drawing her as close as he could.

Hearing his song of pleasure spill from his lips rang through her.

His lust-filled gaze peered into her dilated pupils. She had never felt like this before. Her body could not get enough of him; it sang to her as hers sang to him, and she wanted to pluck every note.

Elrond’s breath deepened, his fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress, as if trying to hold himself back. His gaze darkened, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter with need.

He couldn't take it anymore. The fire coursing through his veins demanded something more. He wanted Írimë—needed her. Needed to feel their bodies fuse together, needed to taste her, needed to make her his entirely.

What was this?

Their chests heaved as they exchanged breaths, staring at one another. Desire filled their eyes as heat pooled deep within them.

“Elrond,” she breathed, looking up to him. In the quietness, eyes searched each other.

“We have been gone from the feast for so long,” her voice was unsteady, breath hitched from the shared intimacy.

Hearing her mention the feast reminded him of the festivities that still occurred. The thought of leaving her side to return made him wince, his heart clenching at the idea of being apart from her again.

His fingers flexed against her waist as he held her gaze, his mind and body both fighting against the rational part of him. He knew they needed to return but he didn't want it to end.

"You speak...words of reason," he said, his voice low and uneven.

She reached up, placing her hand against his cheek softly as her eyes peered into his. They both knew they needed to make an appearance once more.

”Meet me under the stars once more tonight…After the feast,” she finished, whispering her words.

His gaze softened as she touched his cheek, the feel of her skin causing his eyes to close for a moment. Elrond then turned to press his face into the palm of her hand, keeping her there for a moment as her words sunk in and he reopened them. 

“Under the stars, melnā,” he murmured, his voice as soft as a whisper against her skin.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

mellon nin: my friend

meleth nîn: my love

melnā: beloved

Írimë: lovely, desirable

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

[the-fiction-witch]

After Dinner

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Y/n (wife) Rating - 18 + kissing/ nudity/ Word Count - 596

Elrond and Y/n arrived back at their elegant home in Lindon, a sense of contentment lingering from the memorable and eventful dinner with the high king, Prince Durin, and themselves. The clock had struck late, and the tranquil night was alive with the gentle flickering of fireflies in the garden just beyond their balcony. Y/n gracefully approached her ornate mirror, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating her features, and began the meticulous task of unravelling her long, lustrous curls from the meticulously crafted, jewel-encrusted updo she had fashioned for the esteemed royal gathering. With each delicate movement, her hair cascaded down her shoulders, the jewels glinting in the moonlight as they were carefully removed.

Elrond came up behind her and began massaging her shoulders. He worked out the tension there and began his hands slipping down and unlacing her gown.

she chuckled rather amused, "Yes?" She raised her eyebrow looking at him in her mirror

he leaned over her shoulder and nipped at her neck. “You looked so beautiful tonight,” he murmured against her skin. His hands continued to work, stripping her gown from her body then slipped inside and caressed the soft skin beneath. His lips trailed over her shoulder, down her back, his hands caressing her waist.

"Well I wanted to look nice. Not everyday we get to have dinner with the king. Much less so with Durin." She explained as she worked allowing him to work on her gown as it gave her one less task to do,

he reached down and finished untied the laces, the dress pooling around her feet. He pressed into her, his hands pulling her hips back against his, molding her body against his. All of her bare flesh against his still clothed body, “And you did.” he breathed against her neck, burying his face against her skin, inhaling her

when the dress and slip hit the floor she was bare but her star necklace that she’d worn since their wedding, "Did I do something to arouse such attention?" She chuckled,

he chuckled when he saw it still around her neck

Hardly. he replied, his hands roaming her body, tracing her curves. He moved her hair aside so he could lavish her neck with kisses. “You didn't have to do anything.” he murmured against her skin, his hands gliding up her stomach, stopping just below her breasts. “I always want to ravish you.” he turned her around to face him, his hands roaming her body, his eyes dark with lust. He pulled her flush against him, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. His tongue darting out, seeking entrance to her mouth,

she kissed back and allowed him entrance gently sucking on his tongue when he did as had long known the affected it had on him,

that small action was enough to drive him to the edge, his breathing deepening into a moan. His hands gripped her hips, needing something to hold on to. He walked her backwards to the bed, gently pushing her to sit on the edge of the mattress

she giggled as he almost tossed her on the sheets, she playfully kicked her feet before elrond crawled between them

he chuckled, grabbing her ankles to pin them down. He knelt between her parted legs, his body towering over hers, “You are too playful for your own good my love,” he captured her wrists with one hand, holding both above her head, “Now… let me show you what happens when you parade how beautiful you are in front of me all night.” He growled pinning her to the bed with his harsh and lustful kiss, 

[ladyoflindon]

I’ve Got You (Elrond Peredhel, Rings of Power) – S1 Ep7

Author’s note: Technically Elrond x OC, but could be a reader insert if you block out the OC’s name 😉; she’s the daughter of Gil-galad and Princess of Lindon, Eleniel, she had gone to Eregion with Elrond earlier in the season; I write better with named characters (so I write with OCs); italic phases with “S.” denote the use of Sindarin, while “Q.” denotes the use of Quenya

Eleniel paced the floor of Celebrimbor’s forges anxiously as she waited for her husband to return. It had been days since Elrond left for Khazad-dûm, hoping to pay a visit to his friend, the Dwarven prince Durin. At least, that’s what Elrond told her.

Eleniel couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something would go wrong. Every second spent delving deeper into the recesses of her mind was another moment spent pacing in the forges. Someone cleared his throat behind her, snapping her out of her reverie.

“You’re going to wear a hole in my floor, ingaranel nin (S. my princess),” Celebrimbor mused, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He wiped his brow before running a hand through his brown curls. “It’s Elrond, isn’t it? You worry for him.”

“Yes, Lord Celebrimbor,” Eleniel admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I know he’s just visiting Durin, but I can’t shake this feeling that I have. It’s not a good one.” Her blue eyes filled with tears, but she bit her lip, refusing to let them fall. The smith sighed before moving to stand by her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you care for him, but all this worry…it’s not good for you. Look, you haven’t stopped pacing. I’m sure the young Peredhel wouldn’t want you to worry about him like this.”

“Well, he’s a hypocrite then, isn’t he?” Eleniel laughed, her voice hollow. “He wishes I do not concern myself about him, yet he keeps giving me reasons to worry.” Even till now, this was Elrond’s habit, and Eleniel only let him get away with it because of the adorable expression he’d flash at her every time she was about to admonish him.

“I suggest you take a break from pacing. Perhaps the view of Ost-in-Edhil from my study would do you well?” Celebrimbor suggested, already walking away and gesturing for Eleniel to follow. She did, the hem of her pale blue gown flowing behind her and sweeping the ground like leaves.

Celebrimbor was right, Eleniel told herself. At this time of day, Ost-in-Edhil was bustling with activity. The light of the setting sun bathed everything before her in hues of pink and gold. Truly, the capital city of Eregion was splendid.  Eleniel’s hands gripped the cool railing of the balcony, her eyes following the elves milling about below. Two elven children looked up at her, waving and flashing excited smiles, and she waved back, gracing them with a smile of her own.

Just then, a flicker of activity just not too far away from where the children had stood caught her eye. A figure approached the gates of Ost-in-Edhil, cloaked in what was supposed to be white, but his clothes were matted with dirt. Eleniel’s heart caught in her throat as she gazed at the figure.

Elrond was back.

Without a second thought, Eleniel turned and ran out of Celebrimbor’s study and down the stairs until she had reached the ground floor. She pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the forge tower, not caring as they slammed behind her. Running as fast as her feet would take her, she finally made it to the gates. The guards, recognising her, let her pass.

Eleniel threw her arms around Elrond, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re home, meldanya (Q. my beloved), you’re home,” she murmured, her voice low enough only for his ears. When she pulled apart to gaze into those grey eyes she loved so much, she found them full of tears. “Elrond?” Eleniel asked, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m such a failure, ingaranel nin,” Elrond sniffled, hastily wiping his eyes, but more tears came. “I was so close! We could’ve gotten the mithril needed to save elvenkind, but…but I…”

“It’s okay, Elrond,” Eleniel said soothingly. Her hand cupped his face, her thumb wiping soot from his cheeks. She knew what had happened. Her sunshine had tried his best, but the dwarven king, Prince Durin’s father, had forbade any further mining for mithril. She’d suspected that the dwarven king would respond as such, but never did she expect that he would throw her beloved out like that.

Elrond sobbed silently. Eleniel grabbed his shoulders gently and steered them away from the gates. “Hush, Elrond, you did your best. No one will blame you, you tried,” Eleniel said softly, pulling her husband down to her height to kiss his forehead.

“I failed, Eleniel,” Elrond said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Now the elves will fade, all because of me.” He fished something out of his pocket, a small ore that gleamed in the light of the setting sun. “Durin gave me this, a small mithril ore. Such a small piece for all elvenkind, how can it even help?”

“It helps more than you know, Elrond,” Eleniel smiled at him, the kind of smile Elrond loved to see. “Celebrimbor will find a way, I’m sure of it. He’s only the best smith in all Middle-earth. How could he not?”

“The High King entrusted me with this,” Elrond sniffled once more, tears streaming silently down his face. “I failed him. How can I face him?”

“Listen to me, husband.” Eleniel’s voice was firm. Her fingers wiped the tears from his face, before brushing one of his brown curls behind his pointed ear. “You’ve done your best, and I’ll see to it that my father knows so. No one can blame you for King Durin’s response.” She hugged Elrond tight, and he returned her embrace, pressing a kiss into her fragrant hair. “Truly?” Elrond pulled away just enough to look into Eleniel’s blue eyes.

She nodded. “I’ve got you, Elrond. I’ve got you.”

[thesummerestsolstice]

In my post about the strange residents of Rivendell, I mentioned a Feanorian die-hard and an old bodyguard of Thingol. I recently hit a thousand reblogs– which is amazing! So in honor of that, I'm writing their stories out. This is part one, I'll get the rest out over the next couple days.

The Feanorian Die-hard: Hrivossa

Maedhros' right hand at Himring, a dedicated captain with an axe and a burning hatred of Morgoth

Laiquendi former thrall, captured during the First Battle of Beleriand; when the Laiquendi king Denethor was killed

Was refused entry to Doriath after escaping from Angband– at this point, most escaped prisoners were thought to be sleeper agents sent to get information for Morgoth

Wandered for the next few years, mostly alone, occasionally finding Elvish towns that feared her because of the marks of Morgoth's torture and thought her one of his puppets

Ended up stumbling across one of Maedhros's orc hunting parties in the Early First Age, and jumped at the chance to actually fight Morgoth

Maedhros was also one of the only lords willing to help former thralls at that point; he gaze Hrivossa a new home and purpose, fighting alongside him against their shared tormentor

It's not hard to understand why she became so loyal to the Feanorian cause

This is also when she took the Quenya name Hrivossa, "winter wall," because she was as frigid and unbreakable as Himring's walls

(her original Nandor name is mostly for her close friends)

Between Denethor's death and hiding in Doriath with Melian instead of doing anything about Morgoth, Hrivossa absolutely hates Thingol

She's generally a cold person around strangers, but she warms up around her friends, and her wits and tongue are as sharp as her sword

Part of the general morbid humor culture that built up in First Age Himring

She does not have a soft spot for the Sindar claiming that the Silmaril belongs to them now

She does have a noticeable soft spot for small half-elves who keep pestering her for stories about what life was like in Beleriand before the sun and moon

She fought with Maedhros until the bloody, bitter end, being forcefully brought into the custody of Valinor's forces late in the War of Wrath

She was the leader of the Feanorian faction who chose not to submit to the Valar's judgement, or to willingly go to Aman to do penance

They generally made themselves trouble while in custody

To avoid any more ugly conflict, Elrond eventually took responsibility for this faction, becoming their lord (though Elrond did NOT become Lord of the House of Feanor) and promising to keep them from committing any more violent acts

Hrivossa and the others, all of whom had lived in Amon Ereb and helped raised Elrond, found this agreeable

All of these elves are still very much see Elrond as their Lords' child, who must be protected at all costs, so there's that

And that is the story of how Elrond became responsible for the remaining Feanorians, but only the really fucked up ones

Seriously, they don't do any other murders, but they do cause all sorts of other trouble

Also, how Elrond inherited one (1) extremely determined bodyguard

[lya-dustin]

Like a father would

some spoilers for my Gil-galad x oc fic I sang of leaves of gold. no real knowledge of the fic is needed for this one shot.

this is the au where gil galad jumps after elrond(like we had hoped he'd do in the series)

gif by @lasaraconor

He loves Elrond like a son, despite his behavior towards his herald these past moons, Elrond will always be a son to him.

There was no need to think of his own safety as he threw off his cloak, crown and the guards seeking to stop him from jumping after him.

They wouldn’t die, the tide had risen enough to keep them from hurting themselves on the cliff as they dived into the Lhûn. It was not a difficult swim to Mithlond and once both reached Círdan, he would explain to his herald and former ward why they needed those rings.

If Elrond had seen the condition Gil-galad’s wife was, he would have not done what he did.

Erinti, so full of life and capable of raising entire forests with her hands, going mad from her fever with her hands as black as the rot in eating away the Great Tree. Her condition had been weakened by childbirth and then Sauron entered her girdle and poisoned her through the blight of the Great Tree. She would perish before they even reached Valinor for all the healing arts they have are of little use to an Ainur.

The rings were her only hope. The mithril had shielded the sapling and its kingdom from the balrog’s darkness in Khazad-Dûm and would surely cure her along with the tree and keep their kind from having to leave Middle Earth in Sauron’s hands.

“Why did you come after me?” Elrond asks panting as they reach the beach by Círdan’s home. They are tired from the swim, in his desperation to reach the boy Gil-galad had barely noticed how spent he was until he tackled the boy into the wet sand. “Do you want these blasted things so badly you risked your own life for them?”

“I came for you!” the king doesn’t take the rings to prove he put his foster son’s life over the fucking rings. “Did you think I would simply let you jump off a fucking waterfall when I swore to your father I would never let any harm come to you?”

The boy is taken aback by his words, Gil-galad hardly curses, tries his best not to let his temper get the best of him and yet he’s frayed at the seams because a thousand years of peace is not enough. Why couldn’t the orcs finish Sauron off? Why couldn’t Ulmo just drown him in his mortal form instead of letting Galadriel of all people find him?

“I am sorry, I did not know what else to do.” Elrond apologizes as they gathered their bearings and hesitantly reached to take the rings from where he’d tossed them away from his king and foster father.

“I am sorry I pushed you to your limit.” The king tears off the outer layers of court clothes that he hadn’t even had time to remove as he swam after his errant ward. “If you had allowed me to explain, you would understand why I know those rings are our salvation.”

Círdan’s guards would come soon enough along with the Lord of the Gray Havens and something to dry off with. As a young boy, Gil-galad had not cared about ruined clothes or his hair out of place, but the moment they placed that crown on his head he ceased to be Rodnor son of Orodreth and Gilher of the Falathrim and became Ereinion Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor.

“And still now you refuse to even consider they may be tainted with the Deceiver’s evil. I should let Ulmo decide their fate.” Elrond grumbled, still covered in wet sand and yet he agreed to hear his reasoning.

“Celebrimbor promised me he would keep him away from his forge while he and his most trusted smiths crafted them in secret. He, like I, know a mortal cannot survive an injury like that after several days on horseback.” Gil-galad tried his best to assure the half-elf the rings could not contain any of Sauron’s evil because the fiend has no idea how many rings were made or even how they look like.

But the young man was not convinced, so the king brought up the effect Sauron had on the things he touched. The older elf knew far too much of the nature of the Maiar through his wife and having shared his some of his youth with Elwing as well as Eärendil. “You have Maiar and human blood; you would have become his thrall before you even left Eregion if he had been involved in their making.”

Or worse, died from the exposure if he had not chosen the fate of the Eldar.

Gil-galad had sensed it in the air when he arrived in Eregion, something amiss and then when he was brought Halbrand he knew that thing had served Morgoth from the faint smell of rot around him. And then he arrived home to find his wife’s fair face flushed with a fever hotter than flame and muttering in Black Speech as the Master Artificers did their best to control the rot the tree had infected her with. Gil-galad refused to leave her side unless he had to and now her life rested in Elrond's hands.

“You said it is a risk you need to take.” Elrond does not agree with his reasoning but does not say anything against it. “That they could be our last hope.”

“She is dying. If the mithril healed the rot from the leaves, it will heal her.” At last he admits how dire it truly was. The king had tried to shield everyone, especially Elrond, from the truth even when Erinti counseled him against it time and time again. “She tried to heal the tree once more and the Blight poisoned her. They tell me she will not survive the journey to Valinor even if we left tonight.”

The young elf is silent as he tries to wrack his mind for the right answer to this. There was too much risk, too much at stake if the rings contained any drop of Sauron’s essence in them, but there was no other choice for them.

“Her life is in your hands.” The king doesn’t wish to guilt him into setting aside his distrust of the things, and yet he resorts to this last method. It has worked when he’s needed Elrond to care for himself especially after Elros died in his advanced age. As terrible as he will feel for doing this, they truly have no other options left.

“What if---” Elrond cannot make the words leave his mouth and swallows that question they both fear the answer to.

What if it does not work?

“Then I will remain in Middle-Earth and hunt down Sauron myself before I fade and join her in Mandos.” He understands Galadriel’s need for revenge, Gil-galad has never forgiven the Enemy nor its minions for the destruction of his family and his people. The last King of the Noldor would use the last strength of his body to avenge his beloved Lothíriel.

“The dwarves are not the only ones known for their stubbornness. Finwë’s line is cursed with it too.” Círdan arrives with his retainers and receives them warmly.

Both Noldor relax and even smile as they greet their beloved mentor. A change of clothes, advice and perhaps a meal would be welcome before he returns to Lindon, Elrond could stay if he wishes, he’s merited a reprieve away from the chaos Galadriel has brought to them.

The Lord of the Havens had raised Gil-galad when he was just a boy who had not wished to leave his elder sister in Nargothrond, he was a father to him the way Orodreth barely had the time to be. He had taken Elrond in during the War when the sons of Fëanor had no choice but to put them out of harm’s way despite their Oath.

The wisest of the elves even if Galadriel believes her husband to be greater than his kinsman.

“We have come to seek your council, old friend.” Elrond rises, dusts himself off and offers the king a hand. At least things were more or less good between them once again.

“A matter of great urgency, I am afraid.” The king is relieved to know that Círdan would not need to bring up his Daeron was a twat and Rúmil a drunkard speech Gil-galad had heard enough times as a boy.

Elrond had his heart in the right place and would come around even without that speech, the king knew the young man just as well Círdan knew him. Knew him like a father would.

[synfulscript]

Lindon Evening Banquet by Roberto F. Castro

. · ˚ ✧ ★ 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥 ★ ✧ ˚ · .

INTRODUCTION.

Hello! I am Syn. I have a little over a decade of writing and role-playing experience under my belt.​ As a role play partner, I would consider myself passionate, communicative, enthusiastic, and friendly.​

⋆ My writing style is advanced literate/descriptive novella and I typically write in the third person, past and present tense.​ I write anywhere from a paragraph (5+ sentences) to multiple paragraphs, and I will generally match my partner's posts.​ The word count for my replies typically sits between 400 and 900 words, but may at times exceed beyond this range.​ 

⋆ M x F is preferred pairing-wise, and the gender of my character is of little consequence to me, as I am comfortable writing both sides of the coin. I am LGBTQ+ friendly​.

THE SEARCH.

With that out of the way, I should mention that this ad is strictly for LOTR/Tolkien-verse RP. Yes, I have read the Silmarillion. I am not super interested in touching Rings of Power content.

EXPECTATIONS.

⋆ I will under no circumstances write with anyone under the age of 18. Minors do not interact.

⋆ Communication is a plus, I like to be in the loop. I will do my best to inform you if, for whatever reason, I cannot reply for a period of time. I expect a role-play partner to do the same. Real life always comes first! I am pretty flexible regarding RP partner availability and reply frequency.​

⋆ I will not respond to anything shorter than 5 sentences as I need something to work off of in order to maintain and foster my muse. Minimal grammar/spelling mistakes please. That being said, I will not have an aneurysm if you make mistakes.​

⋆ I prefer writing in discord. For the sake of my (and your) sanity, I request that we create a discord server for our role play in order to maintain some sense of organization.​

⋆ Please collaborate with me! Approach me with any ideas/questions/concerns and we can work something out. I love to brainstorm, as well as create and share head-canons, one-shots, playlists, edits, and aesthetics.​

⋆ My work will often contain mature themes; As such, I expect to be made aware of any and all triggers so that I may be conscious and respectful of them. Do not be afraid to advocate for yourself.​

⋆ Plot over porn. I am more than willing to write explicit content, but I prefer to go with what feels natural for the characters and the flow of the story, and work it in that way rather than slapping in sex scenes willy nilly.. I generally sit within the 80/20 to 70/30 story to smut ratio range.​

⋆ I will allow power play if specifics are discussed beforehand. I will never endeavor to control your character without your explicit permission.​

⋆ I prefer original characters to have some sort of character sheet that I can review in order to get to know them, accompanied with some sort of realistic visual reference (realistic art or picture.)

PAIRINGS I'M LOOKING FOR.

⋆ Lord of Rivendell (Elrond Peredhel) x Celebrían (Or Original Female Character) (Elf)

⋆ The Elvenking (Thranduil Son of Oropher) x Original Female Character (Elf) Send me a message if interested!

[vaile-elenya]

I have a nearly finished piece of smut with RoP Elrond and my OC that I'm quite proud of. BUUUT it was originally intended to be part of a longer, multichapter story, which I'm nowhere near finishing right now. I have only the prologue and two chapters as of now.

* by both I mean – post the smut separately as a one-shot with the info that it's part of a larger story and post the prologue once I've edited it.

[gil-galadhwen]

A Glimmer of Hope

As the cool, blue water of the river Lhûn closed over his head, Elrond had no idea what to do next. Before resurfacing, he spots a glimmer of light underwater and decides to follow it into a hidden cave…

Read the rest here...

( Dividers by @saradika )

[hongchenzhu]

Saved and too long

Side tracked on my main fic, and the idea of my OC saving Celebrían and her interaction with some of the people of House Elrond. Wrote this for some people to get an understanding of my OC and who she is in my main fic.

side note: there's gonna be some plot holes, cause I haven't finished writing my main fic yet, I'll be rewriting this scenario in the mainfic once I get to it. (OC intro is here)

Hope yalls enjoy it

word count: 1926

(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡

Hong Chen has been in this world for a very long time, it wasn’t until recently she settled in a town not far from the borders of Rivendell. The town is near the lake which provides great agriculture for its main source of trade and income, with this being said the people of the town are well acquainted with the Elves and Rivendell as they are the main trading routes.

It was during its early settlement when this town was made, from then until now it has been over 2000 years. That’s right I have been the doctor of this town for 2000 years, I have watched the first group of settlers and now I see their descendants grow up and old.

Today is like most other days, I spent time in the yard of my house that leads into right after the front door. My rooms are built around the yard, and this is where I conduct most of my medical examinations the room to the left is my private bedroom, the room to my right is the kitchen/ medical herb storage room the room directly after the yard is my study/further examination room. My yard is also littered with groups of medical herbs ready to be dehydrated, it is either by placing it upside down and leaving it in a drying and dark place or placed in the furnace. Alongside it is a huge osmanthus tree that has been planted since I settled down.  

As I walked around the yard looking at my herbs, I noticed my athelas stash was significantly lower than my others, I signed, this meant I must leave my home and go into the mountains to find more. Shaking my head I grabbed my hat with my veil over it, putting it on I opened my double very solid wooden door (they also weigh a ton) placing a sign out in front telling those who come that I am out collecting more herbs and set out on my little adventure of finding athelas.

After trotting away on my majestic mare from the borders of Rivendell and my town I found a good stash of athelas. Then I felt it, the painful cries of souls, screaming and howling begging to be released accompanying those cries is the sense of foul begins, begins that should be killed to free the tortuous soul from their bodies.

Allowing my horse to roam freely around the area I followed the sense, it did not take long before I came across a clearing near a cave. Outside that cave is littered with a stench, a disgusting orc stench most people by now would’ve gaged but I’m too high on anger to care. Summon my polearm with the star of Fëanor still shining brightly like the day it was made, I marched into the disgusting cave.

The howling and begging got worse, I could hear it echo from the deepest part of the cave. As orcs entered my sight, I saw red. Lifting my polearm high in the air I brought it down with the strength to split the cave apart, right after that orc charged at me left, right and centre. Whipping my polearm left to right I threw them against the wall and stabbed through them, twisting my arm I killed the orcs behind me, bringing my arm forward I killed the ones in front of me. The orcs didn’t stand a chance as my acts were too fast, faster than the day when I was fighting the heavenly officials, faster than the day I fought Melkor head-on saving Fingolfin.

It didn’t take long before all the orcs in the cave were wiped out. I took off my hat, exposing my face, my chest heaved as I started looking around the cave for any other signs of life that weren’t an orc.

Finally, at the corner of the cave, I found it, the only sign of life, an elf, elf maiden who has golden hair that reminded me of Findaráto, throwing my polearm aside I crouched down. Taking the outer layer of my hanfu off I put it around her shoulders, pushing her hair out of her face I looked down at her.

“You’ll be alright dear, I’ll take you to Rivendell,” I said so gently and carefully lifted her up in my arms, one arm under her knees and one behind her back. She fell onto my chest her breathing finally calmed down and I walked out of the cave, seeing my destruction, mutilated orc bodies indiscriminately scattered the cave, like seeds that had been spilt out of a bag.

Once I’m out of the cave my horse came galloping out of the trees.

“Hey girl, look after me for a bit ok” I said to my horse voice still light not wanting to startle the poor Elleth. Very gently I put her onto my horse, who very kindly didn’t move that much as I walked back to the cave picking up my polearm it disapparated in my hand. I kept walking through the cave carefully carrying out every single elf body I could find, bringing them to the main cave. Lining them up, side by side neatly, I pulled out a yellow piece of paper and made a cut on my finger as I wrote with my blood once done, I put it in the middle of the pile and left the cave.

By the time I walked out, the cave shone with a gold shine. What Celebrían could see is a figure with hair darker than night, and a dress? A very long outfit with sleeves just as long walking out of the cave that seems to be glowing, are they a Maiar? They must be in order to have that speed and accuracy. Then she fainted.

I managed to catch the Elleth just as she nearly slipped off my horse, jumping onto it we began riding in the direction of Rivendell. With the Elleth against my chest, I whispered for my mare to go faster, although the Elleth didn’t sustain any severe injuries I don’t know if her mind could take it if I arrived any later. Not happy that the fastest time we could reach Rivendell was around midnight, I caved in, pulled out another black hat with a veil over it put it on and teleported us to right outside of Rivendell.

“I AM IN NEED OF A HEALER” I yelled as I entered the valley, coming off my horse I gently carried the Elleth off as a hoard of elves surrounded me. “I am in need of a healer,” I said again not happy that I was surrounded.

“My lady” shouted a voice above the staircase, a young Ellon called me out. I walked up to him, “Please my lady follow me, and I will take you to the healing wings” I nodded as I followed him.

Once I was there with the Ellon I placed the Elleth on the bed. “Do you hav-” and the door swung open in strutted… Elrond?

The two of us looked at each other, and he spoke “Lindir please leave the room” The young Ellon left the room, and I took my hat off.

“What an unexpected place to meet you, Elrond” I looked down at the Elleth “Check her first, I found her trapped in an orc-infested cave, she didn’t sustain any severe injuries, but I haven’t checked her full body yet.”

Elrond looked down at the Elleth in such heartbreaking eyes, as he began his checkup.

.

.

.

“I have to thank you, ammë, for saving her” Elrond has finished checking up on the Elleth, or should I call her Celebrían.

“No need for thank you, she is lucky I happened to stumble upon that cave or else the worst might happen to her.” Both of us are seated next to Celebrían, watching her pale face finally having some colour returned to it. Pulling a box out of my sleeve I gave it to Elrond, “Here is a box of incense, one that can keep away bed memories and dreams and help people to sleep”

Elrond hasn’t changed much, other than a few streaks of white hair due to stress.

“How long have I been away?” I asked curiously

“For about the entire second age.”

I blinked, shocked but also not so shocked “So, what happened during this age I missed?” Elrond went through most things, Saroun rising again, many wars happened, Celebrimbor’s death and Saroun’s betrayal of Celebrimbor and other matters.

But I stayed on the death of Celebrimbor, oh the sweet child Tyelpë. “He died?” I confirmed with Elrond.

“Oh, poor sweet Tyelpë, I remember meeting him the first time, I could scoop him up in my arms and he would always look so fascinated at the jewels I wore because there were ones he had not seen.” My voice so solemn, “I remember during the first age after I resurrected Fëanor, the three (Fëanor, Curufin and Tyelpë) would spend hours going through my jewellery box asking me all the questions about the jewellery that was in there.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back into my chair. “My poor boy, he didn’t deserve that.” I sniffled and got up, turning away from him “Sorry Elrond, I’m gonna need some time to accept that” Putting my hat back on I walked out of the room slipping right past a set of twins and a golden hair elf.

It was the afternoon by the time I got out of the main house in Rivendell, Lindir was nice enough to lead me to the private gardens of Elrond. I was almost a complete replica of my back garden in my mansion during the first age in the sunken land of Beleriand. The pond filled with waterlilies and pavilions surrounded that garden giving it ultimate serenity. Seating on the railing at one of the pavilions near the pond I took my hat off, the sunset gave the garden a feeling of warmth, but I am still hanging upon the death of Tyelpë. Pulling out a gold hairpin with a spider lily on the end made with gold and reddest of rubies I caressed it, the first gift Tyelpë gave to me as a thank you for allowing him to study my other jewels.

The rubies glimmered under the sun, as I grabbed a section of my hair and pinned it up with the hairpin.  

“Come out” I called to the 3 not so good sneaking elves.

Three black hair elves stepped forward, very neatly next to me in the pavilion. “Has your father not taught you that it is unacceptable to spy on a woman?” I scolded the three.

“We were just curious about who you are and how you rescued ammë” said the one in the middle, all are looking down embarrassed that they were caught.

“Your Elrond’s children”

“Yes”

“Not only is he married but he had kids as well!”

“Yeah” one of them meek. I stood up and studied the three, very intensely like I was going to burn a hole through their face.

“Oh, my you are.” I said I touched the twin's face “You two look just like Elrond and Elros when they were younger.” And turned to the only daughter to the right “and you look just like her.” Dark hair almost as if it's sparkling and grey eyes, oh god she looks so similar to Lúthien.

“Wait would that make me your haruni?”

ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡°✩📄ˎˊ˗⋆｡ˎ

and a cliffhanger ( ‘• ω • `) done on purpose.

Hope yall enjoyed this cause I definitely had a whale of a time writing it, here are some reference photos for Hong Chen's house, hanfu, hairpin, garden and the pavilion. (there are image descriptions, do read them, pls)

The first three are Hong Chen hanfu's all have a sorta outer jacket for her to take off and wrapped around Celebrían

The final 4 are what Elrond's personal garden looks like

[the-fiction-witch]

You Don't Know What You're Asking For

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I must do what my father commands of me"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she gasped her lips parted,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thesummerestsolstice]

Part four of my series on Rivendell's guards! Wherein I finally talk about why Hrivossa and Celecoll keep getting into arguments. You might want to read parts 1, 2, and 3 first for context.

So we pick up after the siege of Rivendell is broken by Gil-Galad's forces

Among those forces is Hrivossa and her Feanorian faction, who weren't in Eregion when it fell (they were supposed to go as reinforcements later, but never had a chance)

So Hrivossa is very relieved that her lord is alive, obviously, and fully approves of Elrond creating his own little haven in the valley

Anyway then she meets Celecoll

Let me be clear; it is absolute loathing from first sight for those two

Hrivossa is decked out in Feanorian stars, Celecoll is still wearing some old Iathrim armor, they know what they're dealing with, and they're not happy about it

They are both just sensitive enough not to start yelling obscenities at each other in the middle of Rivendell's main courtyard

Especially when Hrivossa finds out that Celecoll has been an impromptu guard for Elrond during the siege (and Celecoll finds out that Hrivossa is normally Elrond's guard)

As far as Hrivossa is concerned, Celecoll is a coward who hid behind the girdle and shamefully ran away when her kingdom needed her most, all while keeping the Silmarils from their rightful owners, and who has no business around Elrond, a good Feanorian lord

As far as Celecoll is concerned, Hrivossa is a remorseless murder who's probably still extremely dangerous, and definitely crass and improper, and who also maybe kept Elrond prisoner(?) and who has no business around Elrond, a good Sindar lord

(Sidenote: a lot of people had issues with Elrond's former jailers basically becoming the basis for his house as a lord but that's another post topic)

I want to be clear both of these people almost immediately made peace with the actual orcs they were now living with and they still hated each other

After a few loud arguments (because a few cups of elvish wine can easily overcome both their abilities to not start yelling at each other) Elrond decides he's had enough and separates them

Alternating schedules where they don't have to see each other, and now they live at opposite ends of the growing city

Problem solved, right?

Wrong!

Celecoll moves next to Hrivossa and they start fighting again

I feel like I should note that half the time they aren't even arguing in the same language

Subjects for discussion include: whether or not Thingol was bad, who the Silmarils rightfully belonged to, and most importantly, who gets to guard Elrond

Can you become a toxic divorced couple without ever being romantically involved? Local elves sure are trying

This cycle repeats several more times before Elrond decides that they clearly, like, need the enrichment from arguing or something

He gets their rooms soundproofed so that their fights don't wake anyone else up and just kind of lets it happen

For some ungodly reason yelling at each other a few times a month actually seems to help both of them be more calm and relaxed the rest of the time

Some things are unknowable, even to the wisest minds, and the reason why they're like this is one of them

[eastofeddie]

The Lay of Oropherion Snippet

Here's a pretty little thing that I've been working on for the better half of four (five?) months and will HOPEFULLY be able to continue because school starts next week and I'm already drowning in schoolwork.

Summary: Second Age, Lindon. A little moment between the Lord Thranduil Oropherion and Elrond Peredhel, Herald to the High King of the Noldor.

Word Count: 1k words, give or take (it's only the first half of the first chapter!)

Warnings: the excessive use of the word "bloom" but other than that, everything's all good!

Reviews are welcomed! It helps a long-suffering writer continue this behemoth of a thing she calls a story!

--------------------

Second Age 750

Lindon, in the South Gardens of the Royal Palace

“Never would I have imagined Thranduil Oropherion to be mulling over flowers.”

Thranduil sighed and turned around, not letting go of the little bloom. Elrond Peredhel, herald to the Noldorin king, stood with his arms crossed and that Valar forsaken smile spread across his face.

“Just because you are too cowardly to even glance in Celebrían’s direction does not mean that the rest of us are as well.” Thranduil responded with tact and returned his eyes to the bush in front of him.

Elrond clicked his tongue. It really was an odd sight; for despite not knowing Thranduil for very long (about two hundred years or so), it was not in Thranduil’s nature to contemplate over a bushel of flowers. No, he’d stand in a corner and scowl at whoever dared approached him. It had dawned on Elrond once or twice that Thranduil was simply just as emotionally stunted as his father, as scowling during large events seemed to be a family trait.

But if Elrond let his eyes linger around the room, he’d find the one that seemed to lighten up Thranduil’s mood in an instant.

“Personally, I would go with the red tulips.” Elrond said. “The camellias would overcrowd the salvias and the daffodils too much.”

Thranduil tried not to make any faces at the flower still in his hand. It would be a total waste if he couldn’t do it in front of Elrond himself.

“Tulips, on the other hand, would accentuate the bouquet and is a rather good alternative for red roses; which I’m sure you would give to her at a later date.”

Thranduil stands up from where he was crouching, the little bloom falling from his hand. He raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was going to give her red roses?”

“No one did.” Elrond shook his head. “Except no one expects you to give a bouquet of red roses to the Lady Galadriel, do they?”

Thranduil refused to justify that with an answer.

Elrond stifled a laugh but refused to hide the smile that graced his face. “You do know that daisies are her favorite flower?”

Thranduil walked away from him, unconsciously walking towards the bush of daisies just a little ways away from them. “Yes, I know.”

“And you do know that if Saelon or Lord Cýron saw you giving her flowers, they’d have your head?”

“I know.” Thranduil paid no mind to that bit.

“You do also know, of course, that Síloriel is allergic to daffodils?”

“What?” In his panic, Thranduil began plucking the yellow blooms from the bouquet, not even noticing that Elrond had burst into laughter. He scowled and, quite ludicrously, began to gather up the fallen blooms from the ground. “That was not funny, Elrond.”

“It actually is,” Elrond chuckled still. “If you look at it from my perspective, at least.”

Thranduil rolls his eyes but doesn’t even bother to hide the laugh that escapes form him. Elrond, beneath his kindness and the intelligence that earned him his place at Gil-Galad’s court, had an uncanny knack for taking the piss out of Thranduil. In their circle of friends, Elrond was the only one who could ever get away with (subtly, of course) making a joke out of him without expecting him to throttle him in his sleep. Firstly, because throttling one in one’s sleep is a rather messy business and second because, quite frankly, Thranduil liked Elrond.

“It will take more than a bouquet of flowers to win them over, mellon nin.” Elrond said.

“Yes, but I do not need to win them over,” Thranduil replied, gathering a handful of daisies and adding them to the bouquet. “I only need to win her over.”

“Síloriel’s power over her family is great but even she can only do so much.” Elrond sighed as Thranduil ignored him. “If you asked for my counsel—”

“I do not ask for it.”

“But if you did,” Elrond continued. “I would tell you that her brother would not object to the marriage. Nor will the rest of her kin. But her father...”

Thranduil clenched his jaw.

“Lord Cýron is a man of great ambition. He has many plans for the future of his children.” Elrond said. “But while Saelon’s fate has been sealed, Síloriel’s can still be molded.”

Thranduil furrowed his brow. “You do not mean...”

Among the many perks that come with being Herald to the High King (of which there were few), Elrond often had to sit in on many council meetings with Gil-Galad and his troupe of advisers, Sindar and Noldor alike. The latest topic of conversation that graced the council room was the subject of the King’s marriage. Or lack thereof.

“It is still talk, nothing has been decided yet.” Elrond interjected. “There are a number of maidens that are being considered.”

“But Síloriel is the top choice?”

“She is... a front runner, yes.” Elrond tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But it does not mean that she will be chosen.”

“No, it is only a matter of whether or not Gil-Galad is foolish enough to ignore his council’s wishes and risk a succession crisis by his refusal to take a bride.” Or to risk war with the Sindar by stealing their prince’s future bride, but Thranduil didn’t say that.

“It is a matter of chance, Thranduil.” Elrond said. “There is a chance that Síloriel will marry Ereinion. There is a chance that she won’t.”

Thranduil closed his eyes as Elrond continued. “It is not a race, mellon, it is a coin in the air that has yet to land. Do not lose hope yet.”

“Why should I lose hope if there wasn’t any in the first place?” Thranduil asked rhetorically.

“Ah, but those are the words of a cynic, my friend.” Elrond smirked. “For the vigorous spring shall blossom in the light of the one who shines. And last I heard--”

Elrond leaned in, as if he were telling a great secret. “The light was just seen in the east gardens.”

As he walked away, Elrond laughed as Thranduil, who looked around to make sure that no one would dare interrupt him again, returned to crouching on the ground and gathering handfuls of daisies.

-----

Tagging some of my favorite Tolkien writers because I can <3: @sotwk @scyllas-revenge @amethysttribble @cycas @viola-ophelia @entishramblings (i love everything you guys have ever written, they keep me up at night and fuel me to make it through the day)

[maul-of-shame]

Hey, it's Anariel_ from AO3!!

Bucky please when are you going to update "Gilded Choices" pleaaaase pretty please???😭 I'm dying over here, I need to KNOW and see the ballroom dance please please please 😭😭❤️‍🩹

Hi there, Anariel_!💫 I was just about to answer you on the chapter!!🤍

Thank you so much for checking in; it really means a lot to hear how much you're looking forward to it (especially that ballroom scene, ahh, it’s one of my favorites to write!).

If the odds are in my favor (pun very much intended 😉), it should be up today or by tomorrow morning! I can't wait to share it, and I’m really hoping it lives up to the suspense (especially THAT scene iykyk). Thank you again for being so sweet and excited about Gilded!!! I’m truly lucky to have readers like you who are so wonderfully supportive!!😭😭💖 Hang tight just a little longer, I promise it’ll be worth it!❤️‍🩹

Also-........

I’m so thrilled to share a little update with you all!

A Gil-Galad prequel is officially in the works!

It's something I've been wanting to explore for a while, especially after all the love and curiosity you all have shown for our favorite High King’s backstory following refs I made in the story💙🦌

This tale will dig deeper into the trials and shadows that shaped him, his games, revealing sides of Gil you've only caught glimpses of. And yes, I did give a tiny hint about it (ngl it is a big hint though XDDD) in our Elrondriel server (for those of you who spotted it, you’re legends)! 😉

Can't wait to bring you along on this journey through Eregion and beyond. More updates soon!

[tanoraqui]

as a secret fan of the trope “immortal being imprints on family but is initially 1 or more generations off from their actual Destined Romance in it, leading to tragic problems”, and an even bigger fan of relationships (romantic or otherwise) which are wildly awkward for everyone except the happy couple, I think it’d be great, actually, if:

Idril and Tuor decide to have another child at some point, really any time in the Second Age or later (just one, though—living in Aman is already kinda straining Tuor’s fëa; he’s fine, but parenting a half-elf is…a lot)

The Choice of Peredhil is innate, actually, though only for one generation out unless complicated by Maia blood. Their daughter (Name TBD) chooses to be an Elf with no hesitation—save 1 Man kept alive by dint of Ulmo being clingy a loyal friend and patron, everyone she knows are Elves, or Ainur! Why would she want to leave her family, friends and home?

Shortly after Maeglin gets out of Mandos (which takes longer than anyone in the family but the Fëanorians), they meet in circumstances wherein neither realizes who the other is, familially speaking, and nor does either introduce themselves properly

They almost just straight-up elope, but NameTBD Idriliel decides at the last moment that she really would like to introduce him to her parents first, and she to be introduced to his. Possibly all at once?

(Maeglin either genuinely thinks she knows who he is or by some contrivance fails to tell her between the proposal of this meeting and the meeting itself. Either way, he fully intends to introduce himself fully to her parents, and he has no intention of marrying this maiden whom he loves without her knowing his identity and dark first life.)

Absolutely nobody, including Maeglin, is adequately forewarned

Chaos ensues

[welcometolotr]

rýndil for @arofili , happy new year to the best of fic-writing friends <3

(they’re the child of caranthir & haleth ;) )