#silmarillion kink meme

[imakemywings]

Ransom of the Fairy Twins (1/4)

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Relationships: Elrond & Elros, Elrond & Elros & Maglor, Elrond/Gil-galad

Summary: Maglor and Maedhros trade Elrond and Elros to King Gil-galad in exchange for a Silmaril, but they have miscalculated.

A fill for this prompt on the Silmarillion Kink Meme.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG 

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I.

            When Elrond and Elros were six, the Havens of Sirion went up in smoke. Their mother kissed their foreheads and sent them upstairs with Evranin their nurse, who had been her nurse before, and promised to see them soon. It was the last thing she ever said to them.

            Instead of Mother, a pair of flame-eyed, blood-streaked Elves threw down the bodies of the guard stationed outside the room, and one held Evranin captive while the other ransacked Mother’s room. These invaders took nothing, but threw the screaming nurse aside, and left with the children.

            The last time they heard from mother was inside the house, but the last time they saw her was on the cliff-side, where those towering men of ash and blood tried to make a deal with her. When Elrond and Elros were six, a man held a blade to their throats, and promised to spare them in exchange for something else.

            It had been a long time since they had heard mother say the names of her brothers aloud, those uncles they had never met—who had died younger than they were then: Eluréd. Elurín.

            The last time they saw mother, she was there: and then she was gone.

            She didn’t scream, but their captors did. The leaders, and the ones who followed them, all howling and wailing and cursing and running to the edge of that cliff, to burn their stares into the frothing salt water as it battered itself against the rocks. They nearly missed the seabird that went wheeling overhead, out towards the water, out west.

            The boys were loaded up onto a horse in front of the dark-haired second son of Fëanor, and so they could not look back and see the ruins of the Havens still smoking. For nearly an hour they rode in complete silence, and then one of the boys tilted his head back, looking up wide-eyed and trembling at the man behind them and asked: “Where are we going?”

            “Home,” replied the killer.

II.

            When Elrond and Elros were twelve, the sons of Fëanor finally succeeded in making a deal. Gil-galad had come into a Silmaril—and the methods of which do not pertain to this tale—and, by suggestion of his councilors, was willing to offer it to the Fëanorians, in exchange for the lives of Eärendil and Elwing’s two children.

            The parchment nearly smoked of how fast they accepted this offer.

            Gil-galad sent a small core of trusted advisors to transport the holy jewel, but being unwilling to enter the fortress of Amon Ereb, they left it some two miles out. The land was flat enough the two parties could still see each other. Once it had been deposited, Gil-galad’s men retreated to a safe distance. They watched the sons of Fëanor, the only two left, ride out and examine the jewel. When they had presumably satisfied themselves, they departed, and when Gil-galad’s men returned to the spot, the boys were there waiting.

            Each was supplied by Gil-galad’s men with a pony and provisions, and a message was sent ahead to the king. They anticipated the need to travel slower with the children in tow, but the king should be made aware as soon as possible that the plan had succeeded.

            “His Grace King Gil-galad offers welcome to the sons of Eärendil,” announced the deputy. The two boys stared dully up at their new compatriots. They each bore some makeshift luggage, ragged sacks and bits of things hanging from their tunic belts.

            “Where are we going?” one of them asked at last, almost wearily, as if it were a necessity.

            “To the isle of Balar, in Lindon,” said the deputy. “To your new home, we hope.”

            “We hope?” echoed the other boy. “What do you mean by that?”

            “His Grace offers you a place in his home: you may refuse it, if you wish,” said the deputy.

            “You mean we may leave?” said the first boy, narrowing his eyes. The Elf blinked at him, as though they were having a discussion about pink skies and cows with wings.

            “You may,” she said. “King Gil-galad does not take prisoners.” The boys exchanged a long look.

            “Very well,” they said at last, together. “We would like to meet him.”

III.

            The capitol of Lindon was now, for all intents and purposes, the isle of Balar, whose separation from the mainland gave it some minor additional protection from the forces of Morgoth. It was unlike anywhere Elrond and Elros had been before, but for the comforting wash of the waves on the shore, which seemed to reach back into hazy, half-remembered recollections of their childhood, stirring something they couldn’t quite grasp. Balar was an established Elven city, with stone walls and towers and glinting glass windows, and people. Anyone who could get to the island from the nearby lands had, and they were piled on top of each other trying to eke out some measure of safety in an increasingly terrifying world. The twins gawked as they rode through the streets, and were gawked at in return by Elves who had never seen a Peredhel before, only heard tales of those rulers of the Iathrim, but who had heard of the cruel capture of the boys at the sack of Sirion, and of Gil-galad’s plan for rescue.

            “Why do they all look at us so?” whispered Elros loudly to the deputy. In their days of travel, the boys had relaxed somewhat around their guards, apparently determining it was unlikely they intended any immediate harm.

            “They have heard tales of the last queen of the Iathrim, and of the lord of the Havens at Sirion, and its destruction,” replied the deputy. “All of Lindon hoped that we would be able to bring you out of Amon Ereb.”

            “But why?” Elros asked. “We are strangers to them.”

            “One’s heart may still bleed for a stranger, yes?” said the deputy. Elros frowned thoughtfully and sat back on his pony. Elrond rode alongside him, and they kept so close together as they wound up to Gil-galad’s castle that their knees were bruised by the end of the day from bumping together.

            When they reached the castle, their ponies were led off (they needed no help dismounting) and the deputy gestured for them to follow her inside. The twins shuffled after her, clutching each in one arm his belongings, and with the free hand clasping his brother’s hand.

            The architecture of Amon Ereb had been Elven too, finely wrought and carefully planned, but gone to ruination. It had been decades since anyone had properly cared for it, and its present occupants seemed to take joy in spoiling it further. Rarely did anyone of its sparse staff have time to clean, and when they did, the effort was half-hearted at best. Occasionally the boys were set to it, but with no skill or enthusiasm.

            Gil-galad’s castle was at the prime of its life, and kept clean to boot.

            The twins expected to be led to the throne room—for they had heard such things existed—but Gil-galad met them in a small salon, dressed not in his royal regalia, but something less formal, with only a simple circlet to indicate his office. There was food laid out on a table, which both boys looked to immediately, before turning their attention back to their new lord.

            “It is wonderful to finally meet you,” said Gil-galad with a smile. He was fair of face, with oak-brown hair drawn back into a knotted braid, and eyes that seemed both green and brown. Heavy earrings weighed down his earlobes and polished jewels winked at his fingers and his breast. Like all the Elves they had seen thus far in Lindon, outside the soldiers, his dress was splendidly bright, as if Yavanna herself had painted on the colors. “Please, eat.” He gestured to the table, and the young boys decided further introductions could wait: they fell upon the food.

            It was hearty and rich, if a less extensive spread than might have been there in years gone by, though this the twins did not know. They dipped soft, white bread in bowls of soup shining with fatty oils and snatched fistfuls of fresh vegetables. They had grown unaccustomed to the taste of seafood, but now they happily scarfed down baked fish, fried oysters, and strips of raw tuna on beds of greens, barely pausing to evaluate whether they liked one dish better than another.

            “We were nearly short on supplies,” the deputy remarked to Gil-galad, who responded with faint surprise.

            “A miscalculation,” he said. “I trust all else went well…?”

            “Indeed, my lord. Easier than anyone expected, truthfully. No fight at all.”

            “Are you Gil-galad?” Elrond demanded as soon as his plate was clean, his small shoulders hunched as he spoke. His mouth and chin shone with grease.

            “Indeed I am,” replied the king. “Are you Elrond, or Elros?”

            “Elrond,” they both replied.

            “Then you must be Elros,” said Gil-galad to Elros, who glanced around as if it was possible there was someone else the king might take for Elros.

            “What are you going to do with us?” Elrond asked. Gil-galad blinked a moment, but quickly selected his answer.

            “Feed you, I think,” he said with a smile. “It seems there needs to be more of that!” The twins continued to stare soberly at him, and the smile disappeared from his face. “I mean to offer you my home,” he said, gesturing with a hand around him. “It seems to me more suited to childhood than Amon Ereb. You shall have teachers too, and there is someone in Balar who can teach you nearly anything you might like to know. And when you are grown, perhaps you will decide to stay.”

            “Did you know our parents?” Elros asked after a long silence. Gil-glad again considered before answering.

            “I did not,” he said. “I did not have occasion to visit the Havens at Sirion before…before its end.” The twins looked down at the table. “But there are some who did,” Gil-galad added, studying them. They looked up. “You may not have been aware—” He could see that they had not been, “—but there were survivors of that event.” Immediately the twins were sitting up ramrod straight, their eyes alight, and Gil-galad realized he had spoken carelessly. “I do not mean your mother and father,” he said gently, and their disappointment was visible. “But others. They have settled in a place called Greenwood forest, and they are led by a man called Oropher. Do you remember him?”

            Elrond and Elros shook their heads.

            “If you wish it, I will write to him,” said the king. “He may agree to come and visit, and you may ask him any questions you have about your parents or Sirion.” He could not tell that the boys had any reaction to this.

            After food and introductions, the twins were given rooms, one for each of them. They chose between them one room, and fated the other to merely gather dust. They were bathed, and measured for new, properly-fitted clothes (although they were permitted to keep what they had brought), and directed to a few adults they might seek out if they had need, then they were left alone.

            “Do you think we could ever find him again in here, if we wanted to?” Elros asked with idle curiosity as he lay stretched sideways over the soft bed. “There’s so many rooms.”

            Elrond, seated at the window, arms wrapped around his knees, shrugged.

            “There’s so many people,” he said with a faint shudder. Elros made an uneasy noise of agreement.

            “There…used to be people,” he said uncertainly after a few moments. “In Sirion. I remember that. There were other children, do you remember? There were Men children. We used to play. We used to play a game with little round stones.”

            “That was a long time ago,” said Elrond.

            “Perhaps it will feel normal again,” Elros suggested. Elrond shrugged again. They went silent. Elros stared up at the ceiling, which had been painted to look like a summer sky, edged with rolling sea waves. Elrond watched the city beyond the window, and the horizon further out behind the shimmer of the mainland.

            “What do you think they shall do now?” Elros asked at last, lowly, voicing the question neither of them had been able to ask while still amid company.

            “I would not know,” said Elrond tightly. “Go away, hopefully.”

            “There remains still one Silmaril, isn’t that right?” said Elros.

            “I don’t care,” Elrond snapped. “They shall probably do something stupid trying to get that one back and get themselves killed in the effort.”

            “Probably,” Elros agreed with a shrug. He stretched his arms out over his head. “At least we needn’t trouble ourselves with it anymore.”

            “Indeed,” Elrond muttered, hugging his knees a bit tighter.

            Gil-galad had expected to see the boys explore the castle, but they remained in the space that was given them until they were called for dinner.

IV.

            Gil-galad had not intended for Celebrimbor to still be on the island when the twins arrived. In fact, he had done everything to conceal it from them. The jewel smith had been supposed to be gone more than a week ago, but a broken wagon axel and a squall had kept him around, and it was yet another thing for Gil-galad to wring his hands about. Nevertheless, in the interest of politeness, as Celebrimbor had come at his behest, Gil-galad paid him a last visit after the twins were settled in their beds.

            “How are they?” Celebrimbor asked as soon as he had let Gil-galad into his room, twisting his thick-fingered hands together. Celebrimbor was not a small man, and it might have been comical to see him so physically express his anxieties, if Gil-galad didn’t know that he was genuine.

            In response, Gil-galad sank into one of the chairs at the hearth and pressed a hand over his eyes. His head tipped back against the chair.

            “I do not know how I shall manage this,” he said. He dragged his hand down his face. He rested an elbow against the arm of the chair and cradled his head. “I know not what I’m doing.”

            “Surely…anything here is better than there, Your Grace,” Celebrimbor said, settling on the edge of the other seat. “Are they…are they hurt?”

            “Physically?” said Gil-galad. “No, I don’t believe so. Can you tell me anything else?” Gil-galad asked, raising his head.

            “Everything I can tell you, I have told,” answered Celebrimbor, shaking his head. “As I said, I never spent much time with Maedhros and Maglor. They did not much like children, especially Maglor, in Aman. They were adults; they had not time for me.” He pulled at one of his earrings. “But here in Middle-earth, I have seen…Maedhros brings out the worst in them. He is the most determined of all of them, perhaps even more than my father. He will not allow Maglor to wander off this path they are on.”

            “Stars.” Gil-galad rubbed his eyes again.

            Celebrimbor, a step away from actually wringing his hands, got up and went to the nearby table to pour two goblets of wine. More, Gil-galad suspected, to have something to do with his hands than any desire to drink. Gil-galad took the proffered goblet and set it down undrunk.

            “Have you had any word from the survivors?” he asked. Celebrimbor gave a bleak laugh.

            “Me, heard from the Iathrim?” he asked, bitter rue tinging his tone. “I would not reach out to them even if I knew how; they ought to have some peace. I have heard nothing of them since you left for Sirion, except that I understand they have moved into the Greenwood?” He sipped at his wine and his shaking hand dribbled it down his chin; hastily he swiped it away.

            Gil-galad stared brooding into the fire, drumming his fingers slowly on the arm of the chair. Then, abruptly, he brought his fist down on the table between the seats.

            “We should have been there sooner!” he raged. He squeezed his eyes shut. “We should have been there sooner. We could have had the twins then, and spared them the last six years.” His muscles were a knot at the corner of his jaw.

            “You did what you could,” Celebrimbor said softly. “And believe me! You have done the right thing bringing them here. No child deserves to live in Amon Ereb as it is now. Not with them.” He shuddered.

            Gil-galad said nothing, but lapsed into stillness, gazing into the flickering firelight. Celebrimbor shifted uneasily in his seat, debating, and then said:

            “Will you be alright, having them here, when they have grown?” Gil-galad looked questioningly over at him. “I only mean…as direct descendants of Turgon and therefore of Fingolfin…do they not technically have a better claim to the crown of the Noldor than you, Your Grace?” Gil-galad exhaled and rubbed his eyes again.

            “Yes, I suppose they do.”

            “And…do you think they might…want it?”

            “They are mortal,” Gil-galad emphasized.

            “Yes, but…so was Dior.”

            “We are not the Iathrim. What is your point, Celebrimbor?” Gil-galad snapped, his nerves worn thin.

            “If they chose to challenge you for the crown, what would you do?”

            “Give to them and wait,” said Gil-galad flatly. Celebrimbor was quiet, but evidently not satisfied with this answer, and Gil-galad went on: “We do not have time for these squabbles among Elfinesse. How can we think of coups and usurpations at a time like this?” His hand curled up on the arm of the chair, and then he drummed his fingers again, and then crossed and uncrossed his legs, finally sinking once more into stillness under the thrall of the fire. At length, he said, very quietly, almost as if he feared breathing a curse into the world: “We are losing this war.”

            The fire popped and crackled in the hearth.

            “I know,” Celebrimbor replied, equally soft.

            “Círdan still has seen no sign of Elwing, nor of the return of Eärendil.” In response to Celebrimbor’s silence, he added: “If they cannot succeed at bringing help from Valinor, I think we are only waiting for the end.”

            “They cannot,” said Celebrimbor gently, as one might speak to a dying pet. “They are mortal, Your Grace. That path is closed to them.”

            “They must,” Gil-galad replied. “If they do not…if no aid comes to us…then this war is already lost. If there was a time when the free peoples of Middle-earth had the strength to unite and overthrow the Enemy, it is gone. Without the Calaquendi…without the Valar…I fear the continent will soon go dark. And soon.”

            Celebrimbor said nothing.

Gil-galad sighed, and nodded to himself, and rose to his feet.

            “Thank you for coming, Celebrimbor,” he said.

            “Of course, Your Grace,” said Celebrimbor, rising with the king. “Anything I can tell you which may be of help I am glad to do.”

            “I pray we may recover some of the damage,” said Gil-galad, shaking his head. “But only time will tell.”

            The next day, Gil-galad’s men hustled Celebrimbor and his small retinue out of the city and no more was said of his visit. It was the last time Celebrimbor came to Balar.

V.

            The Iathrim survivors of the sack of Sirion had not been seen since. It was known their small band had traveled east, and settled in the Greenwood, but they had gone quiet after their relocation, and no one had sought them out. It seemed best to let them be; by the measure of Elves, it had been a mere blink of an eye since that terrible day, six years only.

            But when Gil-galad wrote, the answer came promptly, and Oropher came forth from the wood.

            He would not enter the city, but established a camp on the shore of the mainland, along with the retinue he had brought. In concession to his guest’s understandable wariness, Gil-galad did not summon him to the castle, but brought the twins out to Wood-elves’ camp to meet with Oropher there. The effect on the assembled when they entered the tent was immediate.

            One man began weeping openly. Several others covered their mouths and looked away; some others appeared to visibly restrain themselves from more overt reactions. The twins walked forward, pressed together at the shoulder.

            In the seat at the back of the tent was Oropher, newly-crowned king of the surviving Iathrim, though he did not title himself as such, preferring to attach his kingship to the Greenwood. He made no claim to be any heir to the kingdom of Elwing. He was perhaps slightly taller than average for the Sindar, with golden hair and blue eyes, and he bore no crown the children could see but a thin wreath of wood and leaf. He held himself placidly, but there was a shadow on his mien, something unspoken, but imminently present. Facing him, Elrond and Elros clasped hands.

            “Elrond,” said the king of the Wood-elves. “Elros. My name is Oropher. I have come because Gil-galad—” He glanced past the boys to the king of the Noldor behind them, “—has said you wished to speak with me.”

            “King Gil-galad says…” The boy trailed off.

            “…you knew our parents,” the other finished for him.

            Oropher tilted his head from side-to-side, saying neither yes nor no. It was a gesture that suddenly and aggressively reminded Gil-galad of the Sindar Wood-elves who had joined them in Nargothrond, but he had to push that memory aside.

            “I served the house of the Greymantle,” he said. “But my personal acquaintance with Queen Elwing was little, and less still with Lord Eärendil.” The twins shuffled, and squeezed hands, and looked at the floor, then back at Oropher.

            “Do you…”

            “…know where they are?” the boys finished together, gray eyes turned hopefully on this new king, though the tension of their shoulders suggested they were braced for disappointment. The shadow on Oropher’s face deepened, and he cast his eyes askance, and shook his head at last.

            “I do not,” he said softly.

            Elros bit his lower lip, and Elrond swallowed hard.

            “I cannot answer this question for you,” Oropher said, leaning forward. “But others, I may. And I shall. Anything of Sirion or Doriath is your right to know. I do not imagine your…previous guardians knew much of it.” The effort with which Oropher restrained himself from snarling was immense. He looked up at Gil-galad. “Perhaps we might speak privately.”

            Gil-galad hesitated only a moment, before he determined no harm could come to them there, and nodded. He departed with his guard, and might have gone off to other kingly affairs, but he chose to wait until Elrond and Elros emerged with Oropher from the tent. They filed obediently back to Gil-galad’s side, like a dog returning to its master.

            “I will leave some individuals here, though we cannot spare more than one or two,” said Oropher, “that they may act as tutors, to teach you things the residents of Balar are not likely to know.”

            “Yes, that would be ideal,” said Gil-galad, choosing not to take offense that Oropher did not ask the king’s permission to add to his staff. It would be good for the boys to have teachers that knew the Iathrim traditions and history; certainly Gil-galad knew little enough of it, and he imagined Maedhros and Maglor had known less still. Gil-galad at the least had had a Sindarin mother (though she had been of the Falas, and not the woods). “We would be most grateful.” Oropher nodded.

            Gil-galad never knew what Oropher said to the twins in the tent, but they were quiet the rest of the day, speaking only between themselves, and quickly hushing up the moment someone else appeared within earshot. If their hearing was weaker than Elves, they must have learned already the approximate distance at which an Elf could hear them whispering.

            At dinner, they were still silent, until one of them—Oropher believed it was Elros, though he could not say why—announced: “We wish to go with Oropher.”

            “We were told we might leave,” Elrond added, his small body tensed as if for a blow.

            “We were told you take no prisoners,” said Elros. 

            Gil-galad, taken aback, stared for a moment, and then said, slowly: “If you wish to depart with Oropher, and he would welcome you, you are of course, free to go. It is not my intention to keep you here against your will.”

            “He said we were welcome to accompany him—”

“—if we wished it.”

            “Very well,” said Gil-galad. “We will prepare supplies for you to take with you.” The twins exchanged a look, then stared back at Gil-galad, but when he said nothing else, they spoke again.

            “You really mean—”

            “—to let us go?”

            “Just like that?” They finished together.

            “As you heard,” said Gil-galad, slicing a bit of pork loin, “I do not keep prisoners, and certainly not children. It was my desire to ransom you away from the sons of Fëanor for your own sake, not that I might keep you in their stead. I spoke truthfully when I said you are welcome to stay in my home, but you are welcome also to leave, if that suits you better. I trust Oropher and his people will take great care in looking after you.”

            “Oh.” Some fight seemed to ease out of them, and they began to share more frequent looks, and jab at each other under the table, though they remained quiet, and quickly stilled if Gil-galad looked directly at them.

            After dinner, he sent a runner out to the camp of the Wood-elves. Not that he did not trust the twins’ report—but it would not hurt to verify with his fellow monarch that this was agreed upon, before he simply sent two children off with them.

[lotr-sesa]

ONE WEEK left until the LotR SeSa posting deadline!

We hope the writing is going well. ❤️ We already have a few finished fic in the moderation queue, yay!

We still have a few prompters without claims, and as our goal is to make sure each prompter gets at least one fill, we're hoping you can help us out by signal boosting or having a look at the unclaimed prompts to see if one might tempt you. There are summaries of the prompts below as AO3 unfortunately doesn't allow for linking directly to individual prompts. You can find all the prompts HERE.

Gen prompts:

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power

Characters: Elanor "Nori" Brandyfoot, Poppy Proudfellow

Prompt: "simple, easy, fun for all. :D Just anything gen with both of them or one of them."

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Characters/pairing: Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf; Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli

Prompt: "Third wheel Aragorn to Gimli/Legolas. During the quest Aragorn observes the new and blooming love between his friends but as they travel as the Three Hunters he has no one to talk about it. So he writes in his journal or in unsend letter to Arwen or just thinks before sleep (or any other form the author might come up with) about everything he sees happening between Legolas and Gimli."

AU prompt:

Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types

Character: Fíli

Prompt: "An AU in which Fíli survives Azog and Bolg's Durin killing spree and becomes the next King Under The Mountain. I welcome whatever other character inclusions that your heart desires, though not in a way that makes them the focus over Fíli. I would especially love Dís as King Mother and Balin or Dwalin as Closest Living Relatives."

Kinky prompts:

Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Characters: Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil; Elrond Peredhel, Thranduil

Prompt: "Daddy/Doll - soft BDSM and Dollification. Elrond's got mad caregiving vibes, Thrandy in my canon is a hot mess constantly. Things don't work out for him because he doesn't have anyone to help him be soft again. Losing his wife turned him into a jerk. That protective steely exterior is pushing everyone away. Make Elrond tear it down! That man can make anyone sweet! Let's be real we all know Elrond is lonely too. He needs someone to love after losing so many people in his life, especially his wife."

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Characters: Gimli/Legolas Greenleaf; Gimli, Legolas, Thranduil, Elrond Peredhel, Glóin

Prompt: "Daddy/Princess - soft BDSM, BDSM lifestyle rules daily. It's finally time to come out to their parents about their relationship. How will this go over? Can they exist as a happy family and put aside racism? you decide! (We know at the very least Elrond genuinely can)"

Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth

Characters: Annatar/Celebrimbor; Annatar, Celebrimbor

Prompt: "I would love something in which sub!Annatar teaches Tyelpe how to do shibari/rope bondage/predicament bondage, especially if they are playing on Tyelpe's scientific curiosity and desire to learn new things. Super bonus points if Annatar doesn't come."

Romance/relationship prompts:

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth

Characters: Elrond Peredhel/Ereinion Gil-galad; Elrond Peredhel, Ereinion Gil-galad, Celebrían

Prompt: "Just the High King and his Herald and an exploration of their relationship."

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power

Characters: Elanor "Nori" Brandyfoot, Halbrand

Prompt: "if anyone chooses to go there, I applaud you. :D Basically "what if Nori meets Halbrand and not The Stranger", and it goes decidedly NOT gen. Anything from cute one-sided crush to messed up dubcon is totally welcome, just please make sure Nori is an adult (by hobbit standards) if there's any sexual content."

Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth

Characters: Eönwë/Sauron; Mairon, Eönwë

Prompt: "Something set in the Earliest Days of Arda (despite the Eonwe/Sauron tag... I guess that covers Mairon before he became Sauron too). Perhaps Mairon and Eonwe sneaking off together behind their Valar's backs when they should be working? Something a bit more innocent/playful - though an E or M rating is fine - but with hints of Mairon's awful personality peeking through."

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Maglor/Daeron mpreg

Maglor was honestly enjoying the festival. All the planning details were Fingolfin’s responsibility. Maglor’s younger brothers were back East, guarding the border that hadn’t had a serious battle in years, and unable to cause political drama. Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad were both in attendance, with Celebrimbor looking out for his “younger cousin” before Gil-Galad went to Ethel Sirion to learn about court.

For the first time since Valinor, Maglor could sing without any other concerns. After a few songs, he had acquired a crowd. Some of them were Silvan and Falmari, and Maglor always took extra pride when he was recognized purely for his voice, not his family name. 

One stranger in the crowd seemed very intent though. He stared directly at Maglor, though he did not move when someone blocked his view. Instead the stranger remained still. 

Three  songs after the stranger appeared though, Maglor noticed a strange vibration. This elf was humming under his breath - but in perfect rhythm with the songs Maglor had never before played in front of audience, and notes that only departed from Maglor’s own to go on on trilling runs of harmonies. 

Maglor stopped singing to take a drink of the excellent wine. He had not been on any sort of stage, so it was easy enough to approach the stranger. 

“You have a good sense of melody,” Maglor said. “Do you play an instrument yourself?”

“I play the lyre, and the twin pipes, and sing as well. Your voice is very well trained.”

“Thank you. Talent without practice is wasted, after all.”

“Is it?”

“It’s a saying from Tirion, or perhaps just from my kin folk. But that’s not important.”

“What is, then?”

“I would love to hear you actually sing or play, rather than just muffled accompaniments.”

__

They create a melody, a harmony, a song that takes on a life of its own. Their voices twine into something that is made of both of them, but a thing unto itself. Daeron realizes that he has invoked his maternal inheritance too late. He pulls back from the song, to tell Maglor what they have done, but Maglor sees only that their creation is about to falter.

Maglor sings louder, and claims the tune as his own. It needs a vessel, and Maglor offers his. Daeron initially panics, but communicates to Maglor that co-creation with a maia is approximately similar to having a baby, and Maglor as male is totally unequipped for that.

“Oh, is that the only problem! It’s not pleasant, but I can do so again.”

Maglor goes to Doriath their son a year later, begging for safety for the grandson of the king and queen. Maglor pushes through branches, carefully protecting the bundle in his arms. But at one wild rose bush, the edge of the blanket is caught. When Maglor untangles it, the baby has disappeared from the blanket, and the rose bush grown brambles so thick Maglor could not reach even a finger in. “I named him for the strength of his grip and the weight of his actions!” Maglor shrieks at the trees. “Lungum, if you ever let him speak his mother-tongue!” The forest is silent, though the bush next to him now has buds amidst the thorns.

They say after that Mablung of the heavy hand was at the Mereth Aderthad, and it is true, the way elves count the beginning of a life.

[elentarial]

A Dream of Fire (966 words) by Anonymous Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë/Curufin's Wife, Curufin's Wife & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Feanor | Curufinwe/Curufin’s Wife Characters: Fëanor | Curufinwë, Curufin | Curufinwë, Curufin's Wife Additional Tags: Cuckolding, Longing, Infidelity, Sort Of, Female Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Feanor is Spirit of Fire for a reason, Prophetic Visions, Not Canon Compliant, Not LaCE compliant, Not Beta Read Summary: Curufin’s wife is tired of spending her evenings alone while he’s in the forge. She makes her own entertainment.

Guys, I think I’m addicted to the kink meme. I need some wholesome prompts. 🤣 But anonymous requester, this was a joy to write.

[child-of-hurin]

Fic author interview meme - tagged by @anghraine!

Apologies if you've already done this and I missed it, but tagging @squirrelwrangler @undercat-overdog @chthonic-cassandra @hoeratius @outofangband @seagodofmagic and everyone else who sees this and feels like doing it :)

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

58, more than I thought

2- What's your total AO3 word count?

146,888

3- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Surrender, 615 words, The Mirror Visitor, 149 kudos 2. Locked, forgotten, 1,6k words, ASOIAF , 91 kudos 3. With imperious hand, Fate turns the wheel,  8,8k words, Queen’s Thief, 85 kudos 4. Simple fix, 2,8k words, Supernatural, 77 kudos 5. Tied: Cupid and Psyche, 742 words, Queen’s Thief, 66 kudos A flower trampled underfoot, 1,9k words, Silmarillion, 66 kudos

I have a couple of anonymous/orphaned works that I can recall that have way more than any of this: one Azula/Zuko that has over 350 kudos and a Wincest fic that’s currently on 289! They’re both pure E-rated kink, so I think it figures hahaah.

4- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but sometimes I get a little stumped between a desire to respond in depth vs the conscience that ao3 comments are not really the place for fandom conversation…

5- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

IMO, either my most recent Vinland Saga fic “Ordeal,” or my first posted fic ever, “Barren”, about Míriel and Pharazôn.

6- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I’m thinking it’s probably “Washed Ashore”, a short fic that ends with Gil-Galad telling Círdan that Ëarendil is alive and returned with an army in tow.

7- Do you write crossovers?

no

8- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I know I did but it was in an orphaned work and I can’t recall which, or what fandom it was for? But I think that’s why I switched to just publishing anonymously instead of orphaning it altogether, so I can still delete comments and stuff. Haven't had to, though.

9- Do you write smut?

Occasionally :) 

10- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

11- Have you ever had a fic translated?

I THINK so, because I remember someone asking me about it, but I can’t recall which fic or what language…

12- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I wanna do that with Kate!!! Maybe one day

13- What's your all-time favorite ship?

The ship I’ve written the most for on ao3 is Irene/Gen from Queen’s Thief, and it’s definitely one of my top favorites!

14- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don’t usually post fics unless they’re finished or very close to. So the answer is something in my fic folder tentatively called "A Mirror, Cracking", which is an AU of Niënor in Brethil, if she remembered who she was! I'm suuuper fond of it and likely never finishing it, I plan to post it unfinished at some point, amnesty-style.

15- What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at creating a dramatic scene! Or let’s put it this way: it’s what I enjoy the most when I write

16- What are your writing weaknesses?

I’d like to write longer, more committed stuff sometimes, but I find it very hard! I also think my prose is very commonplace, but it doesn't actually bother me.

17- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I avoid doing that at all costs. I either put a descriptive indicating they’re speaking another language, or I say the POV character can’t make it out. I don’t think it’s tacky and I don’t judge it in writing, I just don’t like doing it myself.

18- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Tolkien <3

19- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

My dream is to write a Mediana/Ophélie fic for The Mirror Visitor, simply I think this ship is insanely hot and there was just one meager 155 word ficlet for it last time I checked! I have some notes for a fic but lost steam; maybe reading the English translation of those books will do the trick.

20- What's your favorite fic you've written?

I’m super fond of “A haunting”, one of my fics with the least amount of kudos... which I understand, because it really is one of those “I wrote this for myself but you can read it if you want to” cases—in terms of themes, characterization, style and format, corny quote at the beginning, etc, super indulgent. I really just had a lot of fun with it and it still touches me whenever I reread it, and I think the language and characterization are pretty solid! I like it a lot and I'm super proud of it :)

[thelaithlyworm]

@mimosaeyes tagged you:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love!

Thank you for thinking of me!

Disclaimer: If you asked me the same question next week I would probably have a different answer. I’ve written a lot, and I love a lot of them.

Anyway anyway, trying to go back to some of the early stuff:

My Adventure – First! Fanfic! Ever! Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Great Took, deserved to have an adventure of her very own. I remember getting buried very deep in the lore to write this, and I absolutely loved the chapter where ancient tales of the Silmarillion get filtered through the POV of a very young hobbit. And the poetry I wrote for it still delights me. 

The Girl Who Was A Cherry Tree – so for a while I was really into xxxHolic and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles and then I was really into CLAMP in general, and this was some of the fruit of that obsession. CLAMP always seem at their best when there’s a corpse under the cherry tree and I leaned into that when I gave Clone!Sakura her happy ending.

Never A Love Story – also had a hyperfixation on The Musketeers for a while, a real good time. I tried filling two prompts on the kink meme at the same time and ended up with a fairly complex exploration of gender roles with girl!d’Artagnan-who-wants-to-be-a-soldier and deep-in-salon-culture-Aramis mentoring her. And… lots of questions of identity and doing right by ourselves and each other. And I had a lot of fun with it in general. They had a very non-standard love story, but they did very much love, and I’m at peace with that.

And Blue-Bleak Embers – Nirvana in Fire AU where Prince Yu funks out of waging the rebellion and spends the next few months as an idle prince always knocking on Mei Changsu’s door, even as Mei Changsu is quietly dying. And it’s a peaceful fic, and objectively a happier ending – no-one died in the rebellion and Da Liang wasn’t so weak by the end that it seemed ripe for invasion, that’s a happy ending, right? – but in this version Jingyan doesn’t get that boost to his career from being a war hero and he just. He just takes too long to get the court case started and MCS never sees his justice. It’s gentle and bittersweet and a bit raw – the companionship of two people who have both mauled the other and don’t see any point in putting up masks anymore.

Slice of Life – Pretty much my ship manifesto for Wu Xie/Hei Xiazi, I think. Vignettes from their training relationship! I loved how all the scenes mirrored each other in the end, and Hei Xiazi’s clinical eye on his student, even as he breaks bones and navigates weird night-time conversations and enacts the greatest kindness he can: teaching Wu Xie that people he trusts can hurt him. Another fic that’s very bittersweet and raw, I think.

tagging (if you want to participate): @procrastinatorproject @jazzfic @regionalpancake @inimitablereel @bladedweaponsandswishycoats @sharkbeneaththelotus

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Sandbox Love

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3I4ZeqD

by 0Rocky41_7

Galadriel felt she had a well-matched friend in Princess Luthien, and she did not expect that ever to change.

Words: 9186, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M

Relationships: Galadriel | Artanis/Lúthien Tinúviel

Additional Tags: Background Relationships, The Silmarillion Kink Meme, Romantic Friendship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3I4ZeqD

[wolffyluna]

Most viewed: 12,245 (Overwatch kink meme fill)

Least viewed: 32 views (Silmarillion podfic)

Fic writers, put in the tags what the difference in hits is between your most and least viewed fics. Mine is 7,720 (7,779-59).

[whatiwouldnotgive]

Tolkien Kink Meme!

hello all! my partner and i have created a new tolkien kink meme on ao3!! this is open to any of tolkien's extended works including LOTR, The Hobbit, and Silm. it's also open to both n s f w and sfw prompts.

the link is available here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2021_tolkien_kink_meme

have fun and go wild!

[swanmaids]

Fic writing roundup- thank you for the tag, @imakemywings!

Total Words Published at end of year:      22,069 , give or take a couple thousand for my tumblr fic. definitely not a much as some, but it’s my first year publishing fic, so I’m pretty happy!

Additional Words Written: 6726

Fandoms: Tolkien, predominently Silmarillion.

Highest Everything (raw kudos, hits, comments):

Hits: spirited away (1615)

Kudos: spirited away (265)

Comments: spirited away (15 threads)

New Things I Tried:

Publishing in general! Just getting over the anxiety to post in general has been an achievement for me. I wrote my first au with the stones wept and first fake non-fiction with post mortem. I had a lot of fun experimenting with writing styles in general.

Fic I Spent the Most Time On:

Probably the stones wept. current kink meme wips are also taking some time.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On:

this silly tumblr fic, or the butterfly effect.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

I had a lot of fun with post mortem, I really enjoyed working backwards to come up with the injuries, and putting all the little fucked up easter eggs in there.

Favorite Thing(s) I Read:

from the ones who came before - kirta. note perfect earendil and elwing.

a traitor’s issue - herenortherenearnorfar. wonderful spooky and sad look at ulfang’s daughters in law following the nirnaeth.

a beautiful equation - drag0nst0rm. funny and sad caranthir (and dragons).

you are coming down with me - thelioninmybed. multi chapter fucked up horrible kidnap “family”

the loving spirit - zimraphel. genuis finrod-is-carcharoth fic.

no forest no trees - palmviolet. angela carter esque thingol/melian.

a fiend in feline shape - aipilosse. cry-laughing nimloth & ancalagon (yes rlly.)

the one with all the birds - clothonono. elwing & sons of feanor, a must read. 

the sky the sea the birds between - herenortherenearnorfar. sold me on earendil/elwing/eonwe. 

red wedding - arriviste. my favourite take on russingon.

Writing goals for 2023: write longer fics and maybe something multichapter. write more femslash.

not sure who’s been tagged already, but i’ll tag @aipilosse, @undercat-overdog , @verecunda, @carlandrea

[eunoiaastralwings]

I posted 3,180 times in 2022

That's 3,014 more posts than 2021!

553 posts created (17%)

2,627 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@eunoiaastralwings

@i-did-not-mean-to

@aeonianarchives

@fizzyxcustard

@blueberryrock

I tagged 1,516 of my posts in 2022

#answered - 305 posts

#the silmarillion - 132 posts

#the silm memes - 128 posts

#tarawrites - 85 posts

#silmarillion - 76 posts

#maedhros - 61 posts

#incorrect quotes - 59 posts

#feanor - 57 posts

#tolkien elves - 57 posts

#erestor - 56 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#but she cleared and did so many good. the longest ruling monarch ever— can you imagine? no one is going to break that. she was amazing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Elrond: okay, so i’ve left you all a set of instructions for while i’m away.

Glorfindel: mine just says “Glorfindel, no.”

Elrond: and i want you to apply it to every situation.

Erestor: In all my years, I finally can have peace and quiet. Finally...

198 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

Please some nsfw with Elrond love youu

here you are @badsilversblog hope you like it

Where sex is concerned, Elrond is a calm but energetic. But I think he prefers a softer pace and even though this ellon has boundless amount of energy— he'll never overwhelm you.

If he’s in the mood to fuck you— know he's very sensual about it. 

Skin to skin contact is a must for Elrond— always expect his hands to be running all over you. It's his way to de-stress and convince himself you’re real and with him.

He’s got a pretty high sex drive and an even more incredible breeding kink— you can see the look in his eyes wheneven he's looking at you playing with children or looking at them adoringly— oh, you know exactly what you’ll get up to that evening. 

Elrond may look peaceful— but the only think in his head be dirty thoughts of him finishing inside you.

This ellon enjoys slowly worshiping your body; kissing you everywhere and I mean everywhere! Your neck, shoulders, chest, arms and down your legs— though your stomach especially! Elrond's only physical form of showing you no part of your body is unloved body him— while outside surrounded by others he would hold your hand, kiss and give you a light peck.

He’s always gentle with you and enjoys everything at a slow pace, but if you would like, he can get rough to whatever standards you put.

There’s this quiet confidence and dominant side— which is a real turn on. He's really a switch.

Elrond is a sucker for missionary— but his other favorite would be having you ride him. He likes to be able to see your face and let you have the freedom to touch or grab onto him anywhere.

He’s a giver in everything— especially when it comes to oral and very talented with his tongue.

One thing he loves to is lay you down on the bed and kiss you everywhere until you become a squirming and moaning mess— this is his dominant side— he would also hold your wrists together above your head while he worships your body with kisses.

He loves to tease you with little kitten licks at first.

Elrond doesn't bite, he rather prefers to nibble your skin.

Sometimes when alone in his study— Elrond likes to pull you to his lap and hold you tenderly in his arms, nibbling the skin on your neck and your sensitive ears enough that you're squirming on his lap.

He loves having you ride him, watching you work for your reward as you bounce up and down in his lap.

He loves to grope your chest while he kisses your deeply.

Elrond is a saint when it comes to aftercare. He’ll clean you both up and keep a close eye on you until your breathing is back to normal pace— he'll give you water without asking or food if required, afterwards  it's sleep and holding you incredibly close.

202 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#3

Fëanor and Nerdanel: *kiss in the pool*

Maedhros: *splashing them* Excuse me this is a family pool not a ‘make a family’ pool you have enough kids already!

Also Maedhros: *struggling to hide his little brothers' eyes*

219 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

#2

Lindir, to Elrond: my future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Y/N: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Lindir: that one. I want that one.

Elrond: well— ask Y/N to court you!

Lindir: oh— there's that! *blushes forgetting how he had to woo you to court*

Also Lindir: *stressed out thinking— almost pulls out his hair— trying to think of ways to win you over*

Elrond: *worried how alarmingly fast the color is draining from his face* ehh— Lindir?

Lindir: *throwns himself on the ground and rolls into ball position* I got nothing! Y/N would never court me!

Y/N:*actually overhears the whole thing— still crying* I do want him— why does he think I don't want him? — I don't deserve him!

Elrond: *rubs his head* the both of you— need work on your self esteems!

@i-did-not-mean-to

227 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Maglor: Why are you making chocolate pudding at 4am?

Maedhors: Because I've lost control of my life.

Maglor: *sees Elrond and Elros trying to hide under the table— snickering* so it is not because the elfings begged you with their puppy eyes— the eyes you always fall for?

Maedhros: *vigorously mixing* No! — My own personal reasons!

Maglor: No!— I can literally see them trying to hide under the table!

Maedhros: they are my own personal reasons!

Maglor: They begged you to make chocolate pudding in the middle of the night and you fell for their big puppy eyes— AGAIN!

Maedhros: keep using that tone, Maglor— and you will not be getting any chocolate pudding!

Elrond and Elros: *agreeing with Maedhros*

Maglor:

Maglor: I would like a small piece— please.

308 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[imakemywings]

Silenced

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Summary: After Maglor is brutalized, he seeks out Daeron. Help he may gain, but comfort, little.

A fill for a prompt on the Silmarillion Kink Meme.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG (other links to come, when I feel like it)

            Winter was chasing hard on the heels of autumn, the golden leaf-fall rapidly browning as the boughs of the trees thinned towards dormancy. It was during this time, when the mornings had become brisk and the nights uncomfortably cold that Maglor Feanorion came upon Daeron of Doriath the second time.

            Daeron, having demanded to know what Maglor expected of him after the initial shock of his appearance, was looking firmly at the trunk of a nearby tree. He could not bear to look at Maglor.

            Obviously, Maglor did not answer.

            He knelt not five feet from Daeron in the damp leaf-mold, watching. He must have been in pain. But he made no noise—that was the most unsettling thing of all. Daeron had never known Maglor Feanorion to not make noise.

            They did not encounter one another much in their self-imposed exiles; Maglor preferred the beaches, and Daeron remained under tree (once the lord of the plains of the Gap had scoffed at the Wood-elves, saying they were as prey animals, afraid to venture under open skies), and so their paths had never chanced to cross but for the one time, when Maglor had ventured inland, and Daeron out into the prairies. Daeron had done them both the courtesy of not trying to kill Maglor; it would have embarrassed them both to watch him try. Even weakened as the wretch was, Daeron was nowhere near a martial match for him.

            Now, he ought to have taken pleasure in Maglor’s suffering, brought about by another. But he could not. He did not want to see Maglor suffer; he did not want to see anyone suffer; he wanted to cry.

            “Was it orcs?” he asked, his eyes flicking over briefly to verify the nod or shake of Maglor’s head. But the gesture he made was harder to parse than that. “Men?” Daeron ventured, and knew at once he was right on both accounts.

            Most of Melkor’s orcs had disappeared after his defeat, but some few lone bands remained. Yet alone, they would have simply killed Maglor. This intentional yet purposeless cruelty spoke of another guiding hand, and Daeron knew well that both Men and Elves could be cruel when it suited them.

            It was further apparent that Maglor’s presence there was no coincidence. Maglor had managed to avoid him this long; he knew that Daeron was known to inhabit wooded areas; if he had wished to keep avoiding him, it would have been as easy as staying out of the forests. But here he had come, and so Daeron was forced to acknowledge that Maglor had most likely looked for him.

            “Did you go to someone else before me?” he asked. Maglor shook his head. “That was stupid of you. I ought to leave you just as you are.”

            But he wouldn’t. Did Maglor know that? Or only hope?

            He wondered what had become of whomever had sewn Maglor’s lips shut. If they had slipped up even for a moment, Daeron was sure they were no longer in this world.

            The first time he had encountered Maglor, after the Third Kinslaying, he had still been indulging in the fantasy that he’d pay him back for all he’d done. Now, he just wished Maglor would leave him alone. In spite of the condemnations and vitriol he had hurled at him during that encounter, still Maglor had begged him to stay, grabbing at his clothes until Daeron kicked him away in a rage and left him in the dirt.

            Now, he briefly nursed the fantasy of allowing another’s violence against Maglor to be his payback for the atrocities he had perpetrated against Doriath, against Sirion: for the great ragged hole in Daeron’s chest where once his people had been. He ought to suffer. And yet, if Daeron left him now, he was complicit in this horror, and that, he found, he could not abide.

            He had always been a coward.

            He took the knife from his belt, and the small whetstone from his bag. The knife would need to be as sharp as he could make it, to avoid much sawing at the thread. It took him a few minutes of whetting and examining the edge of the blade in the light—it was just afternoon, as bright as this day would get—before he was satisfied.

            “Hold still,” he warned as he rose to his feet, waiting for Maglor’s nod until he would come nearer. Being within touching range of Maglor Feanorion made his skin crawl with the desire to be away; he half-expected a blade in the ribs for his thanks. Maglor shifted as he approached and Daeron jumped back, but he was only adjusting himself, slouching so his face would be at a better height for Daeron’s knife. Daeron still waited several moments, to reassure himself Maglor was doing as he was told, before he would kneel in front of him.

            He thought of a time when Luthien had held him by the chin and smeared something on his eyelids for a party, and he had made her laugh by imitating various members of the royal court caught in an amorous embrace. A time when Melian smiled at him and said How lovely is your playing, Daeron, and how he had preened; a time when Thingol called for him and sat him by his side, for Daeron alone did he trust to make record of the kingdom’s most important doings; a time when Beleg let him explain the function of his runes and their deceptive simplicity. Was it possible he had been happy once? Sometimes he dreamed he still remembered the feeling.

            He took Maglor’s chin in hand, and turned his face side to side. His skin was harshly tanned from the exposed areas in which he lingered; there were broad scaly patches along his cheekbones and forehead from healing sunburn, his nose recently blistered; his cheeks were gaunt; his hair a tangled, salt-sprayed mat. Daeron did not consider what he looked like in his turn.

            His stomach turned as he examined the damage to Maglor’s face. Whomever had done this, he thought, had no idea who Maglor was. They had done it just to be terrible. It wasn’t justice for anything.

            “Did you tell them you were a singer?” he asked. Maglor did not move, which meant he had, the great fool, and the mastermind of this work had thought themselves quite amusing, to silence a singer.

            The wounds were still leaking fluid, desperately trying to crust over with scabs. Daeron supposed the injury was a week old at most. (Before he left Doriath, he would not have been so able to speculate, but he had watched enough of his own injuries by then to make a guess.) His throat felt tight, but he swallowed hard. At least no one would see to condemn him for rescuing this vile man.

            “It will hurt,” he warned. Maglor did not respond; of course it would hurt. But even if Daeron was clumsy with it it was still not likely to hurt as much as Maglor trying to do it himself.

            “Be still,” he said again, and began in the middle. The black thread was thick and coarse, not the fine kind one might use for construction of clothing. It took two tries to break it, but Maglor neither flinched nor cried out. Daeron broke the next segment of thread. “I must draw it out now,” he warned. Maglor was still as he worked the small piece of thread from his mouth, sticky with half-dried fluids, and cast it aside. One down. There was a hole in the upper lip where it had been. The lips themselves were so dry they were cracked like the earth of the Anfauglith, seeping blood in a few places.

            “You should not have come to me,” Daeron murmured. He went on slicing through the thread, one segment at a time, and removing the bits into a small, disgusting pile next to them. The stitching was crooked and uneven; it had not been done with a skillful or careful touch.

Even with his tan, Daeron’s hands stood out darkly against Maglor’s face, and Maglor’s eyes never left him as he worked, though Daeron studiously avoided his gaze. He did not want to look into the burning eyes of this man, by whose hand so much of what Daeron cherished had been destroyed. Once, Daeron had found the Tree-light glow of Thingol’s eyes comforting, beautiful. On Maglor, it made him shudder.

            Maglor shouldn’t have come, should not have laid this at Daeron’s feet, should not have taken the chance Daeron would refuse to help him…yet how could Daeron say he had been wrong, when he sat there doing just as Maglor wished?

            Daeron’s lip curled as he cut through another thread.

            “What a miserable waste you are,” he said, bitterness overflowing. “You could have been remembered for art. And instead…you’re this.” Then, and only then, did Maglor flinch, and Daeron did not know, could not have known, that from him above all others could that remark draw that reaction. He said no more. Daeron had always found Maglor somewhat insufferable: arrogant, vain, voluble yet pedantic, perpetually convinced of the superiority of the Noldor and of his own house in particular. But beneath all the pretentions, he had been a real artist. In another world, another life, he could have been someone Daeron admired. Few had ever reached enough skill for Daeron to consider them a peer.

            And he had thrown it all away, and destroyed much else besides, and gained nothing, and now he would be remembered, if at all, only for the horrors he had wrought. What a curse, that such beauty should be cast off to better serve the warlord he had come to be. What a damning show of Maglor’s priorities.

            When half of the stitches had been removed, Daeron felt obligated to take his waterskin and offer Maglor a drink. He at least appeared to make an effort not to guzzle the whole thing down. Water spilled around the remaining stitches and dripped off his chin, and he offered it back almost sheepishly, licking thoroughly at the freed side of his mouth.

            Daeron said nothing, and put it aside, and went back to work.

            By the end, Maglor had begun to clench his hands against his thighs; his breathing had grown heavier; Daeron imagined his nerves were worn thin by the pain of the process. At length, he freed the knot at the left corner of Maglor’s mouth, and it was done.

            “There.” Daeron withdrew his hands.

            Maglor burst into tears, immediately.

            Daeron had always hated it when people cried in front of him. He never knew what to do, except to be vaguely uncomfortable and annoyed that some emotional labor was being asked of him. He did not want to think of himself in Maglor’s place, but he supposed tears were not an unwarranted response to the whole thing.

            “They should not have acted this way,” he couldn’t stop himself from muttering. Maglor raised his wild, tear-streaked face, astonished.

            “Them?” he said, his once-lovely low voice as dry and strained as his parched lips. “I would not waste tears for them!”  Privately, Daeron thought he was too dehydrated to be wasting tears for anyone. He needed the moisture. But he did not respond, only gave Maglor that faintly irritated look as if to say what the devil are you crying for then? Then he got to his feet.

            Maglor wobbled, and Daeron’s expression grew more severe, anticipating another departure as the last, where he had to pry Maglor off his tunic-hem to get away from him. Maglor, perhaps in sudden awareness, stilled and stayed where he knelt.

            “I have helped you as I can tolerate; now I must go,” said Daeron stiffly. He picked his things up off the ground; the sound of Maglor’s panting was audible over the rustle of the trees. He was tense, waiting to hear Maglor beseech him to stay, but no pleas came.

            When he was at the edge of the little clearing, Maglor called out to him: raw, tremulous, unbound, with a question held too near to ask aloud, until at last desperation dared.

            “Wait!” Daeron half-turned to listen. “Before you go…” Maglor licked his lips and winced; his tongue writhed instinctively at the foul taste of his wounds. “Before you go, will you…will you…will you play something?” He pointed with an unsteady hand to the panpipes still hooked on Daeron’s little bag. Carved by his own hand, they were the same pipes on which he had first warbled at the foot of the royal dais in Menegroth, and so been welcomed into the home of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia.

            For a long moment Daeron was silent, not looking at Maglor. A part of him was tempted to rip them away and cast them aside, or perhaps to throw them at Maglor, but this he could not do. Of all things, this one he could not bear to part with; it was all that remained of who he had once been, the last recollection of the person who had cast the shadow that he was now. (If he had known that one day Doriath would be no more, not even left as shelter for the wolves and rats, would he have taken more with him when he left?)

            “No,” he said at last, turning his back to Maglor. “There is no music in me anymore.” And he left Maglor weeping amid the falling leaves.

[veliseraptor]

AO3 Stats Meme

I will be doing a more comprehensive version of this meme Later (as I have done the last two years) but since that takes me ages let’s start with this (adjusted for 2020 only, hopefully, though I expect to be posting a few more things before the end of the year)

tagged by: not-tagged by @mikkeneko because I felt like doing it tagging: if you wrote a fic this year consider yourself tagged rules: check your stats on ao3 by going to your dashboard and clicking through to statistics.

amount of works posted:  total word count: 467,786 words, which I’m guessing doesn’t match my writing tracker count because it includes things I wrote in 2019 but didn’t post until 2020 longest fic: since I won’t count Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains (as a multichapter fic posted over multiple years), it’s going to be we live until we die at 57,868 words. depending on when my Big Bang fic goes up, it’ll beat that. shortest fic: of fics posted on AO3 (since I think there’s shorter on Tumblr only), it’s the martyr, the victim at 1,228 words. most kudos: With Absolute Splendor at 4,427 kudos, fuck. fic with the most bookmarks: again it’s With Absolute Splendor (2,346) fic with the most comment threads: take a guess. after Halfway House (again, not counting as a 2020 fic) - With Absolute Splendor.  total amount of kudos: 28.206 total amount of bookmarks: 9.321 total amount of comment threads: 3,365

fandoms written for: MCU, The Silmarillion, T H E U N T A M E D

fests you’ve written for: this year, just the three I signed up for at the end of the year, two of which are still unposted (the MDZS/CQL Rarepair Exchange, the SongXueXiao Exchange, and the MDZS Big Bang). I’m not counting my “sign up” for the MDZS/CQL Kink Meme.

pairings written for: okay let’s see here: Steve/Loki, Loki/Grandmaster, Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji technically (though almost exclusively as a background pairing, ha), Jin Guangyao/Xue Yang, Jiang Cheng/Lan Wangji, Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang, Song Lan/Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen. 

favorite fic you’ve written this year: I don’t know! I haven’t done my comprehensive recap yet! I do feel like everyone else is spring bound is a personal favorite, though, but I also am pretty proud of a bunch of the Yi City ones...but also I’m scared of talking too much about liking my fic because the “STOP BEING AN ARROGANT ASSHOLE” hammer tends to come down when I do that.

I am pretty proud of both With Absolute Splendor and the unposted Big Bang fic as far as, like, writing achievements go. they were both ambitious fics and I feel like I...mostly pulled off what I was trying to do.

goals for next year: would really like to whittle my WIP list down to like. less than 50. unlikely, but a girl can dream. also: finish terrible road trip fic. also also: actually work on my original project.

[elennalore]

fic writer review

Thank you for the tag @skyeventide <3

how many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

what’s your total AO3 word count? 119990

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Nowadays I write mainly fics for the Silmarillion fandom, but during the years, I have written fics for Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter, Star Wars and some other fandoms.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. Walk Through the Darkest Valley, post-canon Celebrimbor & Mairon 2. Lightbearer, sequel to N.o 1, Silvergifting 3. The Unrest of the Noldor, Fourth Age, re-embodied Maedhros and Finrod have a bar night 4. His body, broken and beautiful, Mairon & Nerdanel post-canon, belongs to the same fic series as 1 and 2 5. Warming Up, Mairon & Aulë, post canon, an independent sequel to 1. Interesting to see that the TOP 5 are all Fourth Age Valinor fics!

do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to always respond to comments! I love getting them, and I love the fandom interaction.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I believe it’s either Dead End (the canonical death of Celebrimbor) or The End of All Things (the canonical death of Maedhros).

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Not really, but I have written a crack crossover where I have put Fëanor and Mairon inside events of Kalevala.

have you ever received hate on a fic? No.

do you write smut? if so what kind? Yes, I do. For me, it’s most often about relationship dynamics, so there is always some plot included. Also, kink exploration.

have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

have you ever had a fic translated? I have translated myself one of my fics, originally written in Finnish, into English.

have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I have had a lot of collaboration with one of my TRSB artists this summer, and that has been wonderfully inspirational.

what’s your all time favorite ship? Silvergifting (Mairon/Celebrimbor)

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? My Finnish longfic about Sauron in Númenor: Tähden maan velho - Sairon Elennanóreo - the Wizard of the Star-shaped land. It’s dear to me, and I have written different versions of it, but I think I have outgrown it, for nowadays my view on Sauron is changed. FUN FACT: I have taken my username from the fic’s Quenya title - only elennanore was reserved so I became elennalore XD

what are your writing strengths? Character dynamics and writing multi-dimensional villains, or antiheroes. I have lots of ideas for fics.

what are your writing weaknesses? Not being a non-native writer, my writing in English is not as fluent as I wanted it to be.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? It should be understood by the reader, so there should be a translation available somewhere.

what was the first fandom you wrote for? Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Probably Walk Through the Darkest Valley, for I wrote it to explore the relationship between Mairon and Celebrimbor, and during the writing process I became a Silvergifting shipper myself.

I feel too shy to tag anyone now, but feel free to do this meme, I’d like to see your answers!

[theleakypen]

18, 21, 34 for the writing ask meme!

18. What is your favorite writing prompt?

Uhhhhh. I don’t think I have one! I mean, I genuinely just like receiving prompts, even though I reply slowly. I think my favorite is probably 3-sentence fic prompts, because it’s fun to dash out short little vignettes like that, and I don’t have to worry too much about quality? I got some really good mileage out of the pairing/AU 3-sentence fic prompt. But I do also like the one I made up that’s a Choose One: Platonic or Kink prompt game.

21. What’s your shortest fanfic?

Probably one of the aforementioned 3-sentence fics! Let me see which one I cheated the least on... Looks like it’s this little modern cultivators high school AU at 83 words! Oooh, although I did do a one-tweet thing recently... let me see... This one is 57 words, yes! Oh wait, no, this one beats them all out at 49 words with the intro tweet.

34. How did you find the magical world of fanfics?

So I had a pretty close friend in middle school named Sarita. She moved to a state beginning with the letter C (genuinely cannot remember which one, RIP) sometime halfway through 8th grade, and shortly after that move when we were chatting on AIM she told me that she had gotten into this cool new thing called fanfiction.net. THE REST IS HISTORY. (For the record, this is back before ff.n split into ff.n and fictionpress.net for origfic, so the first thing I ever published on there, actually, was an origfic that was a weird amalgamation of some Silmarillion shit and my own worldbuilding. I should track it down sometime and see if I can turn it into something...)

Fanfic writers ask meme!

[catravandece]

W,U,X,I,A,N

thenk u iza 4 me distraction <3 

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships (gr8 one right off the bat fuckn love it, dont got a lot of kinks but tropes r the same thing right)

Merthur- BAMF!Merlin. my bby boy is the living avatar of all magic, pls let him go totally apeshit with godlike displays of power hes earned it. 

Wangxian- bottom lan wangji rights y’all but mostly Marriage Ceremonies And Parenting Sizhui 

Trephacard- listen, this whole arrangement is like my best fantasy. oh to be a sexy and morose dhampir curating the largest combined library of supernatural texts and artifacts on the continent and nightly getting railed by a huge himbo and powerful witch who brush my hair and tell me im pretty. this is the dream.

Spirk- Visibly Alien S’chn T’gai Spock.  My hc vulcans r not just lime flavored desert elves i demand! weird vocalizations!! alien dick!!! anatomical and behavioral holdovers from pre-reform times aside from fuck or die!!!! i am a monsterfucker these r my rights!!!!!

Viktuuri- CULTURAL DIFFERENCES. SLAVIC CHAV VIKTOR. THE RUSSIAN MEMES. 

U - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

Mo Dao Zu Shi- Wen Ning my sweet bby boy

The Silmarillion- Maedhros

Dragon Age- Anders

Howl’s Moving Castle- Sophie Hatter

Evangelion- Kaworu Nagisa (im sorry japan the w has become a fixture)

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

see here’s the thing even with my own characters i usually gotta beat them up a lil before the happy ending. that being said wen ning did nothing wrong ever in his life and if ppl dont properly appreciate him i will blow a fuse

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

Lord have mercy on my forsaken soul, i just cant be exposed anymore to superwholock. individually or the collective. also theres one old flash-in-the-pan fandom of which i do not speak but involved an old cartoon that i look back on and think “how the fuck did that even start??” i probably regret it less for the ppl and more bc i was 16 and Dumb

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

Wangxian of course, u and @smol-merci did this to me. im recently interested in wen qing/jiang cheng/lan xichen  and wangningxian tho bc of fics

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (goin with MDZS cuz its my current thing)

Ohhhh boy u already know im working on Crouching Tiger Hidden BAMF Jiang Yanli, moreso i just want her to have like desires outside of caring for the boys and evidence that she is A Noblewoman of Authority With Responsibilities

I tend not to think on the romantic lives of the juniors bc im 23 and theyre babies but something in my soul thinks Ouyang Zizhen is aroace w/ a deep aesthetic sense and imma roll with it

Less corporate jobs in modern au’s and this goes for everything like, not every young master has to be some lame bougie business major. Trade skills and ordinary jobs for life!! let WWX be a childrens librarian!! Academia only if it’s full of the bullshit shenanigans i know scholars get up to like the beef over Poe’s orangutan and underground smuggling rings of of japanese chalk