#so he can face adar in mandos

[valar-did-me-wrong]

I love you Gil-galad writers but I am craving for an OC smut that is not his betrothed & I can't seem to find any 👀

(please help)

I need that huge ass man to get down & dirty with a random person.. no marital bond, no royal status (no immortality? even better!!) just absolute debauchery!

I think he deserves some dirty dirty fun & we deserve to read him having it 🙊👀🫶🏽

[ann-atar]

A few more observations from ep. 7:

!!!spoilers!!!

Angbang folks we're living well. I'll be chanting for a flashback to the days of "pain became a game" at some point next season.

Celebrimbor's horror when he realized the "mithril ore" was Sauron's pitch black blood. "What is this?" What is this stuff, Annatar, that's all over every surface, on my hands, and in my hair? I put mithril ore in my coffee this morning, did I drink your blood? (This is great insight into the wraith phenomena and the rings' effects on Men but fuuuccck.)

The pattern, the cycle. Sauron's illusion can only mimic life, and he's trapped in the cycle of abuser and abused. Does he get it? He's choking on it but doesn't quite understand what's caught in his throat, so to speak.

Mirdania's horrifying, tragic end. Another thing I didn't see coming! I love it when shows surprise me. Once disembodied she'll be back in Mandos' Halls, and she'll eventually be reunited with Celebrimbor in Aman.

Gil-galad looks fabulous in armor. Now he needs a floppy asymmetrical haircut like Elrond's. Benjamin Walker is such a good-looking man, let's style him up! (Yes I'm shallow.)

Galadriel is drawing strength from three people in this ep: Elrond, Celebrimbor(!!!), and Adar. She's beginning to see Adar as a reflection of what could be if she ever gives in to what I'm calling the Sauron-effect: Adar is ruined and corrupted, so obsessed it might kill him and enslave the Uruk again; Celebrimbor is the other side to that, someone who broke free but is still broken, he turned back toward the light and now he has turned around to face the consequences.

Or maybe four people: that scene with Arondir got me good.

I wrote this post about Adar and the possible implications of using Nenya yesterday, @baddybaddyadardaddy wrote this amazing post about the idea that final confrontation this season might be a three-person fight, and when I watched the ep again the way they frame Adar as being caught between darkness and light was so apparent. Crossing my fingers for this because damn, that would be some fine storytelling.

Poor Durin. And Elrond waiting for him on the battlefield was just so awful. I really hope Durin can resist the call of the rings but this confrontation with this father will make him emotionally vulnerable. BUT if he is tempted to put on his father's ring I firmly believe that Disa will chop off his hand. They better not do ANYTHING to Disa; I'm really enjoying Rings but if they use Disa's life to make Durin susceptible to Sauron's influence I might drop it like a hot rock, just saying.

[thecorycrow]

ROP OC Designs & Concepts

Because no one stopped me. Please don’t take it too seriously. Characters under the cut.

Naneth: Mother of Uruks

The idea was born after I learned about Adar; in my head he was something like the Adam of the Uruk, so I made him an Eve

She’s a second generation elf from the ones who awoke at Cuiviénen; her given name was Êluin (“of the stars“)

She`s an Avari

Has white freckles

She and her brother (her younger twin) are blessed by Eru Iluvátar himself

She was one of the 13 Moriondor - Morgoth especially wanted her, because he wanted to destroy someone Eru himself blessed

Her and Adar were held together; the night before he was brought to that nameless peak he had told her his name

She did not accept Sauron‘s or Morgoth‘s offerings, which didn’t matter because Morgoth turned her into an Uruk regardless

She accepted her fate and stayed with Adar, making his goals (a home for their “children“) her own

The Uruk called her “Moredhel“ (Dark Elf), before they gave her the name Naneth

She almost lost her left eye in capture and when she turned the darkness corrupted it, yet gave her her sight back somewhat

Núincýron: High Advisor of High King Gil Galad

The younger twin of Naneth/Êluin

Has white freckles

His given name is Núindûel (“under the black sky“) which he changed later to his current name, which means “under the new moon“

Before he became an advisor of Gil Galad, he worked in the library of Lindon, where he soon became Head Librarian

He does not like fighting, but is pretty good with bow and arrow (practice calms his mind)

He wears blue as a tribute to his sister, who he hopes she died because he can only feel pain through their strong bond

Workaholic

Very good friend of the King

Has the gift of foresight

Míthanor: Captain of the Guard in Eregion/Personal Guard of Celebrimbor

Celebrimbor is my favourite, so obviously he got an OC at his side too

He personally chose her as his guard

The red markings in her face are makeup

He calls her “Ruin“ (red flame)

Míthanor means “to kiss the sun“

Her grandmother was a smith and worked alongside Fëanor

When Fëanor made the Silmaril her grandmother had been pregnant with Ruin‘s mother (also a smith later), who got influenced by the magic of the Silmaril which accumulated and was inherited by Ruin (I know the Silmaril don’t give their owners powers but let me have this)

Thanks to this she is unnaturally resistant to heat, her sometimes look like flames and she can’t be easily swayed by the darkness

She followed the path of her father, however, and became a soldier rather than a smith

She takes her duty very seriously and is completely devoted to her lord and the city

She‘d follow her lord to the Halls of Mandos without hesitation

Lórëlen: Herald of Queen Varda

Her name means “dream of the stars“

She is a Maia and the Herald of Queen Varda

She calls herself the voice of the stars

She‘s my oracle (quite the strong foresight)

Sticks her nose in everyone’s business, who she knows the fate of

“Fate is water in a river, you can change it`s course.“

“But where death waits, death takes.“ (Meaning you can save one but another takes their place)

She wanders far and wide but always returns to those she holds dear

Elrond gave her the name “Ránëlen“ (Wandering Star)

She loves often and freely

She also has white freckles

She waltzed into Adar‘s camp once because she was curious

The Uruks call her bright thing

She knew Sauron as Mairon, when he was still a student of Aulë

She prays in form of playing songs on a flute/ocarina/etc

Bonus:

Swapped Fate AU: where Núindûel got caught by Morgoth and Êluin changed her name to Elrhûn (“East Star“) and became a Commander of Gil Galad‘s soldiers.

[aliaisonfanfiction]

Chapter 68

He felt like all the blood within his veins had been drained at the sound of his father’s voice. Tears began to sting at his eyes as he stood there, rooted. He had thought his father damned to the deathly plains of Dagorlad till the end of days in Arda, but there he stood behind them, as tall as a birch and as cold in death as he had been in life.  

“Adar…” his voice burned in his throat as he gazed up at the shimmering cobalt of his father’s eyes.

“Do not look at me as if you were seeing a ghost.” Oropher’s steeled gaze pierced right into the inner depths of his being, tearing through all the walls his son had haphazardly built up around himself in past days. “What were you hoping to accomplish, Thranduil, by stealing away the wife of my grandson, and putting her with children that should not be hers to bear?”

As Thranduil turned to look upon Silveth once more, she would not meet his gaze. Her eyes were downcast with a deep and harrowing sadness. The immense pain and hurt written upon her entirety caused his heart to feel like it were being wrenched from his very chest.

His fists clenched upon his thighs, and he struggled to withhold the sob that threatened to escape him.

“I am so utterly ashamed of you Thranduil.”

Those few words felt like a kick in the gut.

“Glorfindel should have throttled you into the Halls of Mandos when he had the chance, for then I would have throttled you myself!” Oropher continued.

“We do not wish him dead, adar.” Though her countenance was so afflicted, Silveth tried to bring some form of peace.  

“No...” Oropher conceded. “But when he steps foot in Valinor, if he does, he should not expect a gentle welcome from me, nor from anyone else.”

Silveth sighed then, her head still hung. “You cannot expect that from me… I love him more than anything.”

“Do not hold your breath, Silveth.”

Thranduil’s eyes trailed from his father, and then back to his wife. “I will leave for the Grey Havens immediately if you so will it, bessig.”

She shook her head. “As I said before, you are still needed here.”

“As long as he does not make more of a mess of the kingdom I forged!” Oropher refuted.

“He brought upon your demise, and now this…” His expression almost appeared as one of disgust. “How can I still call him my son?”

“You are too cruel, adar.” Silveth chastened, seeing how Thranduil flinched. “He is not to blame for my passing. I went to the village of my own accord.”

“And yet he allowed you to, knowing the risks, especially as you were with child. Do not forget so easily her life, Silveth.”

Silveth froze, and her face turned to stone. “I have never forgotten, Oropher. Neither has Thranduil. Do not put our deaths upon him when you yourself are accountable for thousands.”

“You are right. And I will live my days in death, suffering for it.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “So what shall I do with him? Considering I cannot spank him the way I did when he was but an elfling.”  

“We all make mistakes, adar. Your son was a doting and wonderful father and husband, just as you had once been. Do you know he never spanked Legolas?”

Thranduil felt hotness ascending his cheeks. “I did for his most severe indiscretions, melamin.” He admitted. “More than once...”

“And so fornicating with his future daughter is another brilliant example of how much of a doting and wonderful father and husband he was. Will you ever learn, Thranduil?”

“You never did, adar.”

Oropher’s slap never landed. His hand passed through Thranduil’s cheek as a mist would in the breeze.

“Hush now, the both of you!” Silveth stood between them. “You have both let tragedy darken your hearts.”

“And his,” Oropher almost pierced Thranduil’s chest with his finger, “His darkened heart has allowed our once beautiful forest to wither and rot.”

“You know that is not entirely true, adar.” Silveth frowned in objection.

Oropher continued, “Whereas I have fought the darkness, Thranduil has invited it to reside in the heart of our realm.” His cobalt eyes penetrated his son’s.

“See what you have done, boy? You must be very proud of yourself.”

“What are you talking about? Speak plainly or hold your tongue.” Thranduil bit.

“You know what I am talking about, Thranduil. You have been the ruler of the forest for a millennia. Its roots had grown through you so thoroughly there is no difference between you anymore. You are the forest. You know well where the darkness resides. You know well it has been your negligence that has allowed it to fester.”

“Like father, like son.” Thranduil murmured.

Silveth looked at her husband with unspoken disapproval before she turned the expression to the other towering ellon. “This is not the reason why we came here.”

Oropher looked down at her, and after a moment, nodded reluctantly. “No, it is not.”

“Then why is it that you are here?” Thranduil stared back at his father.

“The truth you must seek, Thranduil. For now you must find yourself again. If you cannot accomplish this, then all in this forest we so cherish will wither and decay.”

“But Adlanniel…”

“Silveth already told you. It is Legolas’ purpose, not yours.”

Thranduil blinked hard at his father’s words, and slowly his gaze returned to his wife. She was now looking to him with a renewed hope.

“Even I will spank you if you let this forest fade.”

Thranduil returned her words with a mischievous grin, “I am counting on it.”

Oropher groaned at their antics and rolled his eyes. “There is time for that in Valinor.”

“So you are in Valinor?” Thranduil looked from his father then back to his wife.

“We are where we are meant to be, Thranduil.” Silveth replied, that radiant smile still on her soft face.

“You know a simple yes or no would suffice…”

“The light will shine again, melamin. Until that time…”

Oropher took her elbow gently and they both began to turn away. Before Thranduil could speak another word, they both faded into the strand of pale light shining in from the ceiling.

Thranduil sighed heavily, replaying the last couple of minutes in his mind. Then, with another deep sigh his words drifted to no one, “I need a drink.”

**************************************************************************************************

   Glorfindel slumped himself down onto the twisted oak armchair, massaging the stress of the passing days from his temple as he did so. Snatching up the goblet of warmed wine a servant had left for him he went to take a draught, but the sweet, fruity aroma that struck him reminded him of the perfumes his beloved niece used to wear. He had not even realised his hand had begun to quiver when the chalice slipped from his grasp, spilling the deep maroon liquid upon the tiles underfoot.

As he looked down he did not see the wine seeping into the gaps of the tiles, but envisioned bright crimson swirling through the broken ice that encrusted the river.

   “Adlanniel…” His guttural voice choked as his eyes began to sting. He had wanted nothing more than to go out and aid the prince’s search for her, but with him gone, and now his father missing, the palace was now in a disarray, the news of their lady’s disappearance having reached the ears of all within. There was no one with enough authority to keep it all together besides the Lord of Golden Flowers himself.

   Though he fought to keep the tears at bay, they flowed freely now, and dampened the golden strands of hair that fell upon his face. His chest pained so suddenly from bereavement, he slid from the chair to his knees, regardless of the lingering wine that now soaked his clothing. His fingernails scraped along the marble as his fists clenched white; the dam he had built to reign in his emotions was now lain to waste.

      He remembered the ebony fluff of her hair that he would gently stroke to calm her tears as an infant, the brilliant emerald eyes that would gaze up to him innocently after he had scolded her for some misbehaviour, her infectious giggles as they had mock tea ceremonies together with her wide array of dolls, and his heart filling with affection and pride when he could see the deep love in her gaze for the young greenwood prince. Yet now, they were memories melting like the ice in that hateful river, the ice in his tormented heart.

   There were gentle strokes of long fingers upon the crown of his head, their soft touch instantly bringing him ease.

   “Golden rose, do not despair. For not all things are as lost as they may seem.”

   The voice was so sweet and familiar, he had almost thought it to be her.