#so you get a sauron :D

[remusjohnslupin]

GIFSET REQUEST MEME | @fenharel asked → lord of the rings + favourite villain

[mistwalkers-menagerie]

TRoP Season Finale spoilers under the cut

Fuck this show.

If this was fanfic I'd gobble it the fuck up but these people are writing official Tolkien stuff. Half-assed bluster poetics ain't really gonna cut it for me even though I'm not a Tolkien purist.

Rest in peace Adar, you would've loved the Tragedy of Julius Caesar (not)

[kasagia]

Flesh and blood

Pairing: Halbrand x fem!elf! reader Summary: Centuries of running away, fighting with what is right and what you should do, have left their mark on you. In time, you begin to realise that the war between good and evil, light and darkness, will never end. And you are tired of all of it. Especially since HE never leaves you alone. Not even for a short moment. Not even when you're about to marry someone else. A bit of a sequel to Skin and Bones, but can be read on its own! It took me longer than I thought, but I kind of like the way it went. I hope you will like it! 🤭🥰 Inspired by: David Kushner - "Flesh x Blood" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"I don't remember the last time you prayed to the Valar." Galadriel sneaks up to you silently. You close your eyes and breathe in the sweet air of Lothlórien.

You were looking for a quiet place where you could calm down and clear your mind of everything that had been bothering you in recent days. And quite a bit had piled up. And not just because it was your "wedding week.".

"That was… ages ago." You reply thoughtfully and stroke the ring hanging around your neck with your fingertip. A ring forged by Halbrand.

"He won't come here. I will make sure of it. He's too afraid of failure. We have many more allies now. You can be safe for yourself and your fiancé." Galadriel assures you with burning fervour and takes your hand that you hold on your lap. You smile, glad that something of her fire still remains—despite the centuries you have fought for yourselves and your people.

"It's not me I'm worried about. Nor Thranduil. You know… you know how Sauron is. He'll do exactly what we least expect. And I can't let him surprise me again." You say, standing up and taking away your hand from her grip. You walk closer to the willow with white leaves and rest your hand on its trunk.

You try desperately to cling with your soul to the power that lies dormant in it—the light that is both a part of you and Garadiel. But as usual, you don't feel the pleasant tingling in your body. You feel the power flowing through you, but... it's not as addictive as the darkness that he tried to pour into you so many times.

The silence after your words is oppressive, to say the least.

"Do you still have these dreams?"Galadriel's soft whisper makes you shiver a little. You wonder if she can feel it in you—the way the light the Valar gave you beats against the darkness that sang to you the most tempting ballads and promises.

"Less often. I guess he's too busy to bother me. Or maybe he's already bored with me? That would be convenient turn of events." You reply and finally turn to fully face her. A small smile appears on your face, but by the way she narrows her eyes at you, you can tell she's seen through at least some of your lies.

"But do you want it? For him to... leave you at peace?"

"There is no peace for me, Galadriel. Neither for you. We both know that." You try to avoid responding to her question and are about to walk away from her, but in the distance you see the silhouette of a very familiar prince of Mirkwood. “Forgive me.” You say, using that perfect excuse, and head towards your fiancé.

Guilt hits you every time you see a smile on Thranduil's face. Not just any polite, mocking, or trained smile that you get used to seeing. He seemed to have his special one—the one reserved just for your eyes to see.

You don't know exactly how you've charmed the Elven Prince, but you didn't go into too much detail. This alliance would be good for the elves. It would unite you in the fight against the one who held the torn remains of your heart in his claws.

Although... you couldn't say you didn't hope that the passionate feelings the platinum-haired prince had for you would be returned from your side someday. Maybe in time you'd learn to love him as he loved you.

"My lady." He greets you and reaches for your hand. He places a kiss on the top of it with full reverence, not to tease you as HE used to do.

"Elf." Halbrand's raspy voice rings out behind you as you and Galadriel discuss something. You're celebrating a battle won against your enemies, the night dark, the area lit only by the light from the campfires and torches. You blush as you meet the intense gaze of his stormy eyes, and you blame the alcohol you've just consumed for that, not the effect this special mortal has on you. "May I?"

Too focused on his muscular, exposed shoulders, you almost don't notice him nod toward the elves dancing around the fire. Before you can respond, Galadriel takes the wooden tankard from your hand and practically shoves it into Halbrand's arms. She would do anything to bribe him into ruling the Southlands and becoming her ally now. She would even go so far as to push you into his bed if it would change his mind.

You hold your breath, your heart beating a little faster as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. Your skin tingles as his lips caress you, his stubble teasing, just like the way his blue eyes scrutinise your reaction.

He pulls away, giving you a mischievous, mysterious smile and holding you to his chest, joining the other couples around the fire and spinning around in his arms like nothing else in the world matters. Ironically, a mortal makes you feel more eternal than any elf, dwarf, or man you’ve ever met.

You shake your head at the memory, and when Thranduil's eyes find your face again, you give him one of your smiles. One that he unfortunately can't recognise as a mask. One that Halbrand would see through in a blink of an eye.

"You were not at the war council today." He notices and nods toward the gardens. You begin to walk at a leisurely pace as you consider how to respond to his observation.

"I did not feel too… focused to participate in it today. I hope you didn't miss me too much?" You tease him, hoping he'll ignore the slight note of concern in your voice.

You wanted your complicated realtion with... Sauron to remain a secret from him. He didn't need to know about things that were long in the past… or your fears that the past wasn't as far away as you'd like it to be.

"I actually did." His comment catches you off guard a little. You stop when he reaches into your hair and tucks a sundrop lily behind your ear. It's a sweet gesture. Really. And you feel warmer and nicer inside… but your heart doesn't flutter in your chest like it would if HE did it. "I heard these are your favorites?"

You nod with a smile, not daring to tell him that your favorites are the red-white Carnations. And not because Halbrand gave them to you the other century...

"They are." You whisper hoarsely, a smile plastered on your face and you look away at the flowers growing around you.

He doesn't let you look away for long though. He gently takes your chin in both his fingers and tilts your head, forcing you to look at him.

There was a delicacy, a grace in everything Thranduil did. He was the epitome of an ideal elf, in whom it was easy to see the roots of a great family. And you would have fallen for him, indeed, had you not tasted the seawater of darkness on your chapped lips all those centuries ago.

"What's on your mind?" He whispers, staring at you intently, searching for an answer to your strange behavior.

There are a lot of things stuck in your mind… and none of them should be there.

Because how could you tell him that your mind wasn't occupied by him—just as it should be—but... by Halbrand? How can you tell him that you spend countless nights wondering about what could've been, turning the silver betrothal ring that Thranduil gave you on your finger and fantasising that its metal was black, made of the same as Sauron's crown?

"Many things. Wedding. War. Orcs... Sauron." You confess partly the truth, keeping your gaze fixed not on his eyes and face but on the garden behind him. "I… I'm worried about what's going to happen." You admit mysteriously, without betraying, that you are truly afraid of being bound to him.

You are too scared to admit that the dark corners of your heart are dying with longing for the one you should never have desired. That part of you wishes that your groom carried far less light within him.

"I promise you, he won't ever touch you again. I will protect you. With my kingdom, army and life." All you can give him in return for such a racy declaration is a faint smile that you hope actually looks more convincing than it feels.

"I know. But I hope you will never have to, Thranduil." You add, completely honestly, for the first time, and on instinct you lean in and snuggle up to the elf.

He seems at least surprised that you seek comfort from him, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and places a hand on your head, gently running his hand through your hair as he lets you hide in his embrace for a moment.

And it feels good. Really.

But not as good as hugs from HIM.

"Galadriel said that I would find you here." Halbrand's voice interrupts your prayer to the Valar. You turn on the bench and look at the mortal. He slowly walks over to you and sits down next to you, staring at the holy oak before you. "Blaming yourself for their deaths won't get you anywhere. They're soldiers. They take into account the possibility of being killed when they go to war."

"Every life is worth mourning, Halbrand." He snorts at that, as if he doesn't believe the sincerity of your words. He turns his gaze to you, but you don't want to look back at him. You're afraid he'll see the tears in your eyes.

"Possible. But praying to the Valar will not bring them back to life." You jump up from the bench as if burned, to which he gives you a confused look.

"What are you trying to do? What do you want to tell me?! That stupid, eternal elf shouldn't shed tears over a life taken for no reason? That I shouldn't sit in a corner and cry like a child while people die around me? I know it! I know it perfectly well, mortal!" Your voice breaks slightly and you can no longer stop yourself from crying silently.

He freezes. For the first time, he sees your outburst. You're usually a composed oasis of composure, but now... after you saw him at the edge of death... Halbrand starts to connect the dots. He walks over to you and firmly, quickly closes you in his arms. You try to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

He actually doesn't want to let you go.

He had many names; he had taken many forms, but in none of them did he feel... peace. Holding you in his arms while you were crying into his chest, seeking comfort from him, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinching to him tight as if for dear life... he felt peace. He felt some strange kind of relief caused by the fact that you cared about him much enough to mourn his potential death.

You cried into his chest because you were afraid he would die, that he would leave. Sauron tries to remember the last time someone cared so much for him. He can't remember. Or he doesn't want to remember anything but this.

And he took selfish pleasure in the knowledge that his leaving would have devastated you.

You let yourself cry into him, pour out all the emotions that have been weighing on you since you saw him bleeding on the healers' bed, and you shiver in his arms as a cool gust of wind somehow hits your skin and breaks through the safe cage of his warm embrace.

"No Valar has ever answered my prayers. None has ever looked after me like you are... thank you, Y/N." He whispers into your hair and presses a kiss to your forehead.

He feels a strange pang in his heart as his lips touch the surface of your silky skin. You still tremble in his grip, but he holds you impossibly tight, refusing to let any force separate you. It's a strange feeling. One he's not used to. One that seems addictive - much like your sweet scent, which he hopes will linger on him so he can appreciate it longer.

This moment between you is... intimate. Not just because he holds you close to his chest, whispers sweet things into your ear, and plants kisses that colour your cheeks the same scarlet as your dress. It's because he uses your name for the first time. And it's to comfort you. A mortal. A blacksmith. A simple man... for whom you've fallen so quickly it's pathetic.

When you finally stop crying and he carefully wipes away every tear that's left on your cheeks with his thumbs, you do the boldest, stupidest thing in your entire, long life. You stand up on your tiptoes and connect his lips with yours.

He is... surprised by your unexpected act. At first he is unable to react to the way your lips move gently against his. You kiss him with a tenderness he has not felt for at least several centuries. And the Valar above, how sweet your lips were.

The tempting vision of the future he could have with you passes through his mind, enticing him more than any vision of power that Morgoth putted in his mind.

You take away his breath and any possibility of movement with each gentle biting of his lip. His heart beats uncontrollably quickly as he revels in your closeness and your ethereal scent, which wraps him better than any blanket could. He clings to your sofftness like a centuries-old thirst for touch-broken man that Morgoth had made him.

You pull away from him when he remains still for too long, fearing you've crossed a line. Allowing you to believe in it is the only crime he can’t commit.

His plans to slowly seduce you and use you to get on Galadriel's better side fly out the window as he desperately reaches for you. His needing of you is greater than anything he has felt since he took this new form.

And Valar, curse him if, after he has tasted you, he does not get all of you to himself.

He tangles a hand in your hair and, making sure his entire hand is securely around the back of your head, pushes you against the column in the courtyard with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.

He’s quick to seize the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your slightly parted lips as he greedily savours every last bit of you, devouring you like a starving man as his other hand desperately grabs at your waist, taking a fistful of the material of your dress.

He wants to be as close to you as possible, any logical thought in his mind giving in to the force of his desire as he presses his entire body against you, wondering only where and how to take you, which places are your sweet spots, and what to taste first to put out the fire you've ignited inside him—a desire so great he's become its obedient slave in less than a blink of an eye.

And for a moment, he truly feels like a weak mortal. As you work just as quickly to unbutton his shirt, he feels like a regular human being. And he despises that feeling as much as he desires more.

"He is here." At Galadriel's words, you drop the white gown you were taking from the wardrobe.

Your maids rush to you, trying to save the silk dress from getting wrinkled, but you don't care. All you can think about is him. Sauron. Halbrand... Annatar. He was here.

"What?" You stare at her in shock as she nods her head for the rest to leave your chambers. The silence in the room is heavy, broken only by the hurried footsteps of the elves leaving, who have managed to do your wedding hair and light makeup.

"We... wanted to keep you away from it—Erlond, me, and Thranduil. We thought it would be the best for you. Sauron... he entered the city gates a week ago and... surrendered. Sort of. He let us lock him in his cell. He has no crown, no rings. He said he wanted to make an alliance with us. Peace. Of course we don't believe him. We're waiting for our allies to provide us with... the right means to get rid of his physical form for good. Before that... we'd like to get as much out of him as possible. Or rather, find out what his real plan is. But he's been silent for weeks. He wants to talk to you. Only you."

"You kept it in hidden? From me? Together with my future husband?" You ask coldly, inside seething with rage at their betrayal. How could they pretend nothing was happening for a week? That the greatest evil in Middle-earth hadn't come to your gates and wasn't lurking in the dungeons, waiting for the most likely moment to strike?

"Y.N, I… I know how you feel…"

"No. You don't know." You answer her firmly, piercing her with an icy gaze that makes her flinch. "Am I your enemy now? A less worthy ally who fell in love with an enemy? Because that's what he is to me, Galadriel. How dare you... how dare you doubt me after I've chosen you every time? After I had chosen Middle-earth and elves every single time! Each of us faces darkness, Galadriel. Even you are not made entirely of light. So I'm asking you, what right do you have to exclude me from your plans?!"

You explode in rage at her and walk over to her. You breathe quickly, air leaving your flared nostrils, and the urge to pin her to the wall with a dagger at her neck is overwhelming.

"Everything I do, I do for the good of Middle-earth."

"You're not the only one! What do you think is the reason for my marriage to Thranduil?! The good of Middle-earth, the strengthening of the alliance—that's all I've done for these cursed centuries at your side! But I thought I was your true ally and supporter. Thank you for reminding me that I fall short of your light and greatness, my lady."

Before she can say anything, you're already running out of the room. You ignore the elves milling around, who were listening to your conversation, and head to one place. The dungeons.

You can't ignore the pang in your heart as you consider your conversation with Galadriel. She didn't trust you. They didn't trust you. After all the years at their side, the sacrifices, the battle against the darkness within you, they thought of you as a lesser elf that any time can be consumed by the darkness. You were not a worthy guardian of Middle-earth in their eyes. And you probably never will be.

You blink faster, fighting back the tears that want to spontaneously come to your eyes, and practically run down the stairs. You don't ask the guards where he is. You can feel him clearly, the ring that still hangs safely on your necklace pulling you toward him, feeling him as soon as you set foot on the same floor he is on.

You prepare yourself to not show any emotion on your face. You take a few deep breaths and climb the last few stairs. A rather comical sight greets you. Six men stand by the bars, as if the chains and shackles around the neck, wrists, and ankles of the man in front of you were not enough to assure him that he would not escape. As if they could stop him if he actually wanted to escape.

You watch his new form closely as he drinks in your sight with an equally intense gaze, as if assessing all the changes in you since your last meeting. He is no longer Annatar. He doesn't have blond hair, but he is a near-perfect replica of Halbrand. A damn bastard knew too well which one of his forms you had weakness for.

"Leave me and the prisoner alone." You order the soldiers. They look at each other uncertainly. But you are in no mood to deal with their blatant refusal to immediately obey your words. “It was an order, not a request.”

You see a small, mocking smile spread across his face as he watches the soldiers hesitantly leave you alone. The door closes behind them with a bang, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Centuries. That's how long it took for the two of you to be in the same room in flesh and blood.

It shouldn't feel this right.

"Personally, I think I made you a better ring." He begins, casting a significant glance at the Thranduil's ring that adorned your finger. For a moment, you felt as if the metal would melt under his contemptuous gaze.

"Personally, I believe that it is not the ring that is important but the one who gives it." You comment and take a step towards the bars. He can't move, thankfully, so there still is a decent distance between you two.

He's trapped in the middle of the room, chained to the floor with heavy chains. And though he looks defenseless... but deep down you know he's been through worse. No prison could hold him for long.

"Your little elf prince... did he finally tell you that I was locked here? Or was he too afraid I'd steal you from the altar? By the way, I didn't know you had a thing for blondes? Maybe Annatar wasn't as disgusting to you as you claimed."

"Oh Annatar was a self-absorbed, egotistical psychopath with unrealistic ambitions. A pretty close and faithful form of you. Probably the closest yet, Sauron." He frowns at the contemptuous, almost disgusted way you say his name. He clears his throat and shakes his head, chuckling darkly.

His mockery sends waves of anger through you as well as a warm, all-too-familiar feeling in your chest. His laughter was both poison and wine to you. How much would you give to be able to get lost in it with impunity...

"Now now. Why call me by a name you despise? We both know which one you like more... especially in the darkness of your chambers." You tremble slightly, but you don't let him know that the constant visions and dreams were affecting you in any way.

If you've learnt anything about him, it's that he doesn't like it when you don't react to his actions. And right now, you really want to piss him off; see him losing his composed and mocking demeanour, as if he were still playing the cards in your game, as if he were 15 steps ahead of you.

"Why are you here, Halbrand? Perhaps you prefer Annatar? The Dark Lord? It's hard to keep up with the nicknames you've been giving yourself lately, Lord of orcs and Mordor." You ask calmly, playing with the ring on your finger—a habit you had developed far before your engagement and, as you've just noticed, something that annoyed him when it wasn't his ring that you were showing off like that.

"Oh, well, someone had to carry a pillow with wedding rings at your…"

"You're wasting my time." You interrupt him coldly, staring at him intently. “Maybe I should just let Galadriel play with you while I focus on my husband?” You ask, rasing defiantly an eyebrow at him as you wonder if he will continue his stupid game or once in his life he will open his cards to you.

"Good thing we have eternity, right?" You sigh and roll your eyes at him. That was exactly how you remembered him.

What else could you expect from him? If he hadn't shown you the illusion, he would have entangled you in his dark web of lies. It didn't matter if he came to you in visions or stood before you in flesh and blood—he wasn't the one you fell in love with; he was much more. You should have realised after all those centuries that whatever was between you two wasn't love, affection, or anything decent.

He desired your power. Not you. Maybe you should finally take a hint.

Maybe he had shown you the darkness for too long to feel tempted by it any longer. Maybe this light was finally what you longed for. Or maybe you got bored of his little, sick games and manipulations. Maybe you craved for something real—something he obviously would never give you.

You turn your back on him and are about to leave when he suddenly calls your name. Not the pet names he liked to call you. Your name. Your real name. And something about the way it rolled over his tongue wouldn't let you just walk away from him.

Even though you should have done it ages ago. Even though the whispers of darkness had been tempting you for too long, and even though you knew perfectly well that it would be better for you to leave this room as soon as possible, you didn't.

You stop, but you don't spare him a glance again. You wait for what he has to say, not really knowing what you want to achieve with him. Because you are perfectly well aware that Galadriel has already informed Erlond and Thranduil about your sudden outburst and that they are most likely eavesdropping on the two of you now. HE probably knew that too. Just as you all knew that he wouldn't appear here without a serious reason.

"Not in a joking mood, I see. You'd be a lot happier as my bride, by the way. But if you insist, I think I can tell you this great secret, but it must remain just between us two, my sacred light." He pauses, clearly waiting for you to look at him again. You sigh and reluctantly turn to face him. The intensity of his sea-green gaze burns worse than any flame, making you feel like you're the one being interrogated and shackled by him. "Actually... I'm here to replace your groom if he decides to run away from the altar. I wouldn't want the beautiful sight of you in your wedding dress to go to waste."

"Who said he would leave me? Thranduil loves me." You speak with complete certainty of the prince of Mirkwood's feelings for you. You wish you had as much confidence in yourself as you do in him.

"Not a big achievement. He's not the only one. He's not the only one who put a ring on your finger, is he? But tell me... what seems more... intimate? Wearing one on your finger or on a chain around your neck, close to your heart?"

After his words, the ring on your chest - the very one he gave you - becomes heavy, heavy under the awareness that his words carry a bit of truth... Why would you still keep his ring close to you if you already had one?

"You tell me. It seems that of the two of us, you know the most about the chains. Especially the dark ones."

"I may be chained to the darkness. But you, my stubborn and beautiful elf, are chained to the light. Tell me, Y/N, does the Valar answer your prayers and your pleas after you have cried out to me in the darkness of so many nights? Can you whisper their names in your holly gardens, knowing it is mine you wish to scream out loud for all of Middle-earth to hear?"

Only when blood is running in a stream from your hand do you realise that you've gone to the bars and wrapped your hand around them, squeezing tightly so you hurt yourself. He's drawn you to him like a spider to its prey, wrapping you in the web of his words, making you lose your guard enough to get close to the bars. And that was your mistake.

In an instant, he’s in front of you. You gasp in shock, unable to process when he’s freed himself from his shackles or when he’s wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled it through the bars. All you can do is hold your breath and watch as he licks your wound, moaning as your crimson blood spreads across his taste buds, tasting you like you’re the most exquisite of drinks.

"We belong together, my lady." He says this nickname mockingly as he leans down to press his lips to your hand. "No matter how far or fast you want to run, or who you want to run with. I will always find you. I will always be near. You will be able to feel my breath on your neck in every dark night. You will always be mine, Y/N."

You gasp as his lips move up your hand. He’s so close, your noses brushing through the bars as he forces you closer to him, to feel you the way he wants.

You gasp as he slides his hand along the sharp edge of the bars and mixes your blood with his, pressing your hands together tightly. You watch as the black, thick liquid runs down his wrist, and an unwanted little voice in the back of your head convinces you to lean down and taste his blood with the tip of your tongue. You stand there, staring at him as if spellbound, unable to move as he presses kisses to your joined hands, spreading your blood across your skin.

Suddenly, you are being dragged backwards by two strong pairs of arms. And although Halbrand... Sauron tries to hold you by force, almost crushing your wrist, Erlond and Thranduil pull you away from him.

"That's a very rude way to interrupt someone's conversation." He comments unimpressed, running his finger over the bars where your blood still is. He sucks his thumb, humming at another metallic taste, irritating your not-yet-husband.

"You're lucky there's no suitable weapon here yet to end your miserable life, you disgusting, cursed Maiar. I'd like to see you try to get close to her, no longer having any physical form."

"I would still have a better chance of getting a taste of her wonderful nectar and light, little prince. Actually, I've already done it. What about you?"

You knew perfectly well what game he was playing and how much he wanted to spore the elf so that he would slip and stab him with his sword, thus not killing him fully but allowing him to take another form. But Thranduil seemed too agitated to leave him without a word, and Erlond was too interested in getting more information out of Sauron to stop his friend.

"I can connect with her in a more meaningful way. First of all, I have enough light in myself to bind our souls to each other." Sauron frowns in displeasure, never taking his contemptuous gaze off your fiancé.

"You may not know this, Elven Prince, but darkness is as good a connection as any, and a much stronger one I dare to say. Besides... you cannot bond with one who is already taken."

This is clearly too much for Thranduil to bear. The Prince of Mirkwood is in front of Sauron in a split second, his blade at his neck. A thin line of black blood runs down to his collarbones as he, unfazed, still smirking, stares down at your fiancé.

"Thranduil leave him." You butt in and place a hand on the elf's shoulder. He looks at you sideways, his jaw clenched and his hand trembling slightly against Mairon's neck as he is still tempted to take his life. You gently grab his wrist and pull his hand away from Sauron, ignoring the searing look he gives you as you touch another man before him. You gently cup the elf's cheek and force him to look at you. "He is not worth it. Let us go, he will not tell us anything useful, he will only confuse our minds. This is just another of his numerous games."

"You know perfectly well that not all of this was a lie, Y/N. And if anything… I'm not the only one here who resorts to it, am I, my beloved nemesis?" You try to ignore the look Sauron gives you from behind Thranduil's shoulder.

You lean down and gently connect your lips with the elf's. He seems to melt into your kiss, one of your rare acts of tenderness. And you can't quite give yourself over to the feeling of his lips against yours enough to not hear the soft growl of the man behind you.

"Let's take this wedding. We won't achieve anything here anyway." You say, moving away from him and trying your hardest to ignore the pain in your chest and the cries for the Dark Lord that Erlond and Galadriel were taking care of.

But you knew well that his imprisonment wouldn't last long. He'd get out. The only question was when... and what was the real reason of his comming here.

The ceremony is beautiful. Really. Even though you may not be the most enthusiastic bride, you are happy that your people have something to celebrate and have a moment of respite from the danger that is now closer than ever. With Sauron in the dungeon and an army of orcs on the loose, anything could happen. And you didn't want to even imagine the many possible scenarios.

"A coin for your thoughts?" Thranduil quickly joins your side, handing you one of the goblets in his hand.

You smile softly at him and take a sip of the drink, wincing slightly at the taste. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you watch the dancing elves.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined this connection between you two to look like. Elven couples who chose to bind their souls together through marriage spoke of a great connection of souls and minds, but you barely felt this link between him and you.

For a moment you thought you had said your vows wrong, but Thranduil didn't seem to act like anything was wrong. So you too pretended that everything was completely fine. Just as always.

"Honestly, this isn't how I imagined our wedding would be." You chuckle softly, sipping the drink he gave you.

"Well, that wasn't what I had in mind either, my dear wife. But it doesn't make it any less joyful. You're mine. Finally." He whispers and presses a kiss on your temple. A shiver runs through you as he gently slides a ring onto your finger. The engagement ring that somehow disappeared from your finger. You frown and give him a questioning look. "Sauron must have stolen it from you somehow. I'm just returning it to its rightful place—my queen's finger." He replies and reverently places a kiss on the back of your hand.

You frown and look at the metal band on your finger. It was… oddly heavier. Like more massive. Strange, since it was the exactly same ring as few hours ago.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" He asks sweetly, taking the empty chalice from you.

You absentmindedly play with the necklace around your neck, freezing when you realize you don't have the familiar weight of Sauron's ring hanging around your neck.

"Shall we dance? For the first time as husband and wife?" Before you can answer, he already has you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor. You surrender completely to his guidance, feeling your head hum slightly.

All you can look at is him. Your vision can't focus on the couples dancing around you or anything else except him. And suddenly, you see it. A small crack in your fucking vision.

You can't believe how you could be so stupid and naive.

"I... Sauron" You mumble, feeling slightly disoriented as the poison he gave you is starting to work. Suddenly, you are overcome with immense fatigue, and all you can do is lean against him as you wander into blissful nothingness.

"My beautiful light. Only mine. My wife." He whispers in your ear, confirming your too-late suspicions, and easily scoops you up into his arms.

You dream a dream without dreams. Very strange occurrence since for centuries you were haunted by him in any moment of peace.

It must have bordered on obsession, since the first thought you had after waking up was always him. He made you crazy without even trying, without even being close to you in flesh and blood.

And you're genuinely afraid of the lengths he'll go to once he finally has you within his reach.

"I know you are not sleeping, my dear wife. Your breathing quickened about 10 minutes ago."

You don't know how you could have been so stupid and naive. How you could not have noticed the obvious difference in Thranduil's demeanor. Just like you have no idea how he did it, how he managed to plan this entire show and execute exactly what he wanted. Just as always.

"Eventually you'll have to open your eyes. Don't you want to see our kingdom, my love?"

"Don't call me that, you disgusting plague." You growl, finally opening your eyes. You're in a bedroom, pitch black. You're lying on the most velvety silk sheets, but it's not them or the decor of the room that catches your eye.

He sits just a few feet from your bed. He's wearing black armour made of sharp metal plates. There's a streak of red blood on the side of his face. You shiver, wondering what he had to do to get that blood there.

"Now now. Is this the way to greet your newly wedded husband?" He asks mockingly as he slowly approaches you.

You sit on the bed and rest your back against the headboard, trying to move away from it as far as the handcuffs attached to your ankles will allow.

"I didn't marry you. I was promising myself to Thranduil." You say stubbornly as he slowly sits down on the edge of your bed.

You glare at him sternly as he lazily reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. The ring on his finger—the very one you thought you were putting on Thranduil's finger—pricks your skin unpleasantly, mockingly reminding you of your great mistake.

"But that wasn't really him standing before you, was it? Your elven prince's… his… appearance is currently far from what you remember. You could always be mistaken, my love."

His voice is so sweet that it is nauseating. He drops his hand and suddenly stands up from the bed. He goes to the closet and starts to take off his armour, completely oblivious to the fact that you're in the same room as him. How you wish you had access to a small knife right now...

"What did you do to him?" You ask, your voice shaking as a thousand possibilities race through your mind. You can't believe how all of you fell for the idea that there was some way you could make him defenceless and block his powers. Millennia on his back, and he still played you however he wanted.

You shiver as he suddenly stands before you again. He gently cups your cheek in his hand and stares at you as if you were another addition to his collection of prized possessions he’s torn from the throats of his enemies. The pearl in his dark crown of scorched lands.

"He wanted to take you from me. You know very well what I do with thieves, my precious light of life. I burn them." He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. His stubble stings unpleasantly, your heart pounding at his closeness, but still all you can do is sit there in shock, wondering how he managed to gain control over you. And how best to play your cards to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else.

"I wasn't yours. Not for anyone to steal me from you."

"Your mistake, for which his pretty face paid. Do you know how much time I spent convincing my army not to feed on him once they smelled the delicious scent of a burnt elf?" He asks, unfazed, continuing to press his lips against your skin. His hand tangles in your hair and wraps it around his.

He tilts your head back and buries his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You hold your breath, biting your lower lip until it bleeds.

A tear slips down your cheek, but he ignores it, ignores your quick breaths and broken sobs as you mourn the one man who truly wanted to save you from falling into the darkness. From falling into the arms of the Lord of the Rings.

"You are a monster." You whisper, unable to hold your voice back from a broken sob. His hand works on the fastenings of your nightgown, oblivious to the fact that you are currently reliving the suffering and death he brought to the land of Galadriel and your would-be husband.

"I am your husband. That's all that matters now."

He leans down and captures your lips. You can only moan as the force of his kiss cuts off all other sensations you feel. His lips claim yours as if it were his eternal right, one you've denied him and one he's had to rightfully fight for. You feel him sigh softly as he presses you against him, making sure he feels yours against every inch of his body. He's not kissing you. He's conquering you. He's marking his territory, laying claim to every tiny part of you, not wanting to leave any part of you unsullied by him.

He had cursed your spirit utterly centuries ago. He had planted the seeds of darkness that had only flourished in the centuries away from him. And now, having gathered enough of an army and grown strong enough to be virtually unstoppable, he was taking your body for himself.

And you realize that even the Valar do not forgive you your sin in wanting him even after all the terrible things he has done.

You still try to fight him. With the last of your strength, you push him away from you, trying to protect the remnants of light that remain in you. Light that he desired as much as he wanted to destroy it through his darkness.

"What have you done? Where am I?" You growl, trying your best to hide how panicked you are. You reach for your powers and throw him across the room.

You throw off the bonds that bind you and walk to the nearest window. You hold your breath as you see the lands that were once sacred gardens, where you prayed to the Valar, engulfed in flames and ash. He destroyed it all. He razed the entire city to the ground. All because you dared to bind yourself to someone other than himself.

"In your husband's house. Right where you belong." He approaches you silently and presses a kiss on your shoulder. He wraps his hands around you like a snake, tightening his grip on you.

You hyperventilate at the destruction you've brought upon those you loved. You wonder how many of them survived, how many escaped, how far his armies have spread, and how long he's kept you locked away in his golden fortress like a sick prize that you clearly were to him.

In your last, feeble attempt at rebellion, you scream. You scream until your throat aches, and much longer after that. You turn in his arms and throw yourself at him in a frenzy with fists and nails, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt all the people of Middle-Earth and you. You want to hurt him so much that he will feel it in every tiny part of himself, so he will be able to feel your own pain and despair.

You curse him in both elven and general speech; you throw insults at him; you struggle and fight with him. The fact that he stands calmly without losing his composure, taking your blows as if they were nothing, makes you even angrier and more passionate in your efforts to hurt him. You hit him even harder; you want to throw him off balance, drive him insane—just like he just did to you. You feel extremely powerless when you realise that you cannot.

"Have you finished?" He asks, catching your wrists in both hands as your attacks become less frequent and your screams turn into quiet sobs.

He pushes you against the wall and presses you against it, immobilising you. His other hand gently wipes the tears from your cheeks, as if that would somehow ease the ache in your chest. You feel as if the last of your light is dying a slow, painful death with each of his touches.

"Not even close. Let me out. Let me out or I'll go mad. I'll go crazy. I'll make sure every single day of your damn life is a nightmare."

"You won't. I need your light, Y/N. It's the only thing keeping me sane among these stinking orcs. And if you go mad... then we shall go mad here together. As husband and wife. For sickness and for worse. Until we heal all Middle-Earth."

"You are already lunatic." You promise him, twisting your wrists so you can dig your nails into his palms. He hisses slightly, but doesn't remove his hands from you.

"Possibly. But I'm not your monster. I didn't kill them, Y/N. Your little friends should have died, but I spared them. I only took their land from them. I showed mercy, Y/N. For you. Because of you. My wife. Don't you see that? Don't you like the control you have over me, my lady, my light, my sweet and dear wife?" With each new nickname he trails kisses along your temple to your cheek, stopping at the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't that mean more than anything I have done for you?"

"It means nothing. It never meant anything and never will. You have no soul; you have no light. You can't... you can't bond with me... with mine... you won't pollute me."

You shiver as he runs his tongue from your jawline to your neck, stopping suddenly to suck a hickey into your skin. You gasp and bite your lip hard, trying not to let out any more sounds of pleasure, but you can’t just ignore the way he presses himself perfectly against you.

"Oh, Y/N…you know so little of the powers of darkness. I am already one with you. I have been through the ages and always will be. In body and soul, in mind, in dreams, in spirit, in flesh and blood, I will always be a part of you."

He's right. You know he is because you feel him with your whole being. Even hundreds of years apart didn't manage to get you out of the clutches of his influence.

He poisoned your mind through your dreams and entered your body like a venomous poison, starting with your soul and ending with your flesh. And the worst in all this situation was that you didn't know how to stop him.

"You… you promised you would leave me alone. That you wouldn't lift a finger until I called for you, until I came to you myself." You mumble as he pushes you back into the bed.

He straddles you and cups your cheek tenderly in his hand, watching you closely. He plays with you slowly, like a spider that has captured its prey in its web, savouring every moment he can explore your body with his fingers.

"Apparently you needed a little push. Beside that, didn't you ever try to reach me?" He asks, slowly weaving your hand into his. The rings on your fingers mock you more than his words. Because did you really defend yourself with all your might when you landed so easily in his arms? "You will beg for me, Y/N. You will crave my company. I will wait until the memory of any other kindred spirit than me dies in you. I am very patient, Y/N. Ages and aeons have taught me this. I will wait until you have no shelter, no confidant, no friend, no lover left on this world but me."

With that dark promise, he pushes your back down on the bed. He hovers over you, giving you no time to respond. He swallows your every breath hungrily, as if he'll never get to kiss you again, but you both know perfectly well that now that you're finally in his iron grip, it's quite the opposite. He has all the time in the world to destroy you. A thought that, along with the intensity of his kiss, fades inside you as you allow yourself to give in to your darkest, wildest, most ardent desires.

With every kiss that marked your body, every little moan, every soft gasp, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths of darkness. His fingers caressed your skin, igniting something much more than lust within you.

And even though you love the way he feels against you, digging your nails into his back and tangling your hands in his hair, pulling him as close as you can, wanting and needing him to finally become one with you after all these centuries, you don't give in to him completely.

You knew what he was like, what he was capable of, and what sweet lies his lips could tell as they caressed your breasts, peppering every inch of your exposed skin in a frenzy of kisses as his fingers prepared you for him. You could moan and hold on to him tightly, pretending he had you all to himself as the edge of his wedding ring brushed against your walls, but deep down, every little connection to him made you want to fight him even more.

But you'll play smarter next time. You were a diligent student, and he's just taught you a very important lesson. Patience is golden. So you'll wait. Wait until he believes he's completely tamed you, that you'll willingly become his king, his Queen of the Rings. You'll make him believe you're his and his alone, and at the right moment you'll plunge the dagger into his Mordor-black heart.

You cry out and bite his shoulder when, just as you think about plunging the dagger into him, he thrusts his length into your wet, aching walls. And the Valar above, if this were to be a sin, then you no longer wish to remain holy and pure.

As he begins to thrust into you with all his strength, no longer holding back the lust and desire suppressed for years, you wonder if this is the ecstasy elves feel when they return from this world and become one with the light of the Valar. If not, you are glad he has led you far away from that path.

He whispers something to your ear in black speech, but to you these are just fragments of meaningless words, as your head buzzes with the flood of feelings he gives you. He is relentless in his conquest of you, and for a moment you truly feel utterly defeated and at his mercy. It is only when the blood from his arm—from the exact place where you bit him—runs down your chest that you remember that this is not the end for you. You will not submit to him. Ever. He may have won you through deception, but he will never extinguish the fire within you—the light that may not have been as pure but still blazed beneath the surface of your skin.

"Bind... yourself to me." He grunts between his hard thrusts, trembling as he nears the edge. You don't know if it's a command or a needy cry of the desperate, lonely immortal, but you know that if your plan is to succeed, you must give him part of yourself he could hold on to...

“Halbrand!” You moan when he suddenly slides his hand between you and stimulates your clit, teasing you and bringing you closer to your pleasure, caressing you the way you used to do in the dark of night with him in mind.

"Mairon." He breathes shakily, his tone bordering on pleading. You shiver, realising what he's just revealed to you. The name he didn't give himself. The one he had no control over. And maybe, if the circumstances were different, if he'd won you over differently, you'd appreciate more how... sensitive to you he had to become to share something like that. "My light... Mairon." He doesn't ask. He never does. But in that moment, you could take it as his prayer to you. A plea from the depths of his heart, where there's a shred of light left. Which you know perfectly well there isn't. Or at least you want to believe that he's completely rotten to the core. Otherwise, he could truly love you. And knowing that would destroy you.

"Mairon." You moan as you both fall apart and you open yourself up to him, doing what he asked of you - bonding yourself to him with flesh and blood.

He collapses on top of you, trapping you in the tight embrace of his arms. He presses his mouth to your temple, his nose in your hair as he inhales and absorbs every last bit of you, wanting to memorise this moment forever and etch it into the memory of his mind, into his very being.

You allow it. For both him and yourself, to enjoy this stolen moment of peace between you two.

Because Sauron forgot one important thing. That in the glow of your light he can both bask and burn. And since you can no longer remain holy and good like Galadriel, since that path of light was blocked for you from the day you met him and the Valar have turned their back on you, refusing to protect you and defend you against him, then you will become much worse than all of them.

Middle-Earth should beware of the new Lady of the Rings.

[neyafromfrance95]

I’m gonna be real here but your understanding of l Sauron and Galadriel and their relationship is far superior to the writers. It gives me chills. If you were one of the writers on board, the show would be next level.

I don’t think they’re clever enough to dive into it like that and aren’t even bold enough either, so we have to keep telling ourselves that we aren’t going to get Haladriel complexity sadly we might not even get Galadriel being complex since they’re already mellowing her down

omg, thank you! you made me blush fr :D

however, i think i simply interpret and put into words what we are actually getting. it's just that what we are getting is very subtle and subtextual. smtms vague bc they got no guts to more explicidly convey what i'm 100% sure they want to convey.

think about the already iconic "to worship the light of its queen" line. while s2 was airing, a few shippers started referring to sauron's yearning for galadriel as a "worship of the light" and concluded that he thinks everyone in the middle-earth must share his adoration. these takes were based on the subtle details, parallels and metaphors we saw in the show. but i never imagined that they would actually make sauron explicitly confirm this word-for-word! it is actually such an astronomical win for us!

and then galadriel altogether stops her feral and desperate fight when she sees halbrand in front of her. she drops all of her defenses for a moment and just looks at him. then when he recites his s1 speech, she closes her eyes for a second! bc her feelings for halbrand are so intense! this scene was literally a confirmation that galadriel loves halbrand, as we have suspected!

but yeah, right now, i'm very anxious about galadriel's characterization and arc in the future seasons. the ending made it seem like she suddenly fully overcame her darkness and was calmer.

and listen, while lotr!galadriel is calmer, she has never been this stay-at-home tradwife the incelbros say she is! she is thirsty for power! lotr!galadriel wants power more than trop!galadriel does, trop hasn't really tapped into galadriel's power hunger at all. and lotr!galadriel is still devoted to her fight against sauron! think about it, she doesn't go to valinor when celebrian does and she doesn't stay in the middle-earth while celeborn does! she only leaves the middle-earth for valinor when sauron is gone! and what about the crazy scary dark!galadriel when she is offered the one ring? what about the fact that she only passes the test after 3000 years and until then her heart greatly desires what sauron offers her? and how sad her tone is when she says she has passed the test (which doesn't even mean she has slain *him* in her heart, as her taking nenya to valinor can mean that she still holds onto their connection)?

my hope right now is that the ending was deliberately misleading and that the wound made by the crown will have a side effect on her.

unlike the majority of the shippers in our fandom, i never believed that galadriel would give in to sauron. not just bc her gaze is fixed on the light above as finrod taught her, but bc her pride wouldn't allow it. still, there are other ways to make her inadvertently succumb to the darkness! she was already on that path in s1 when her search for sauron slowly started to turn her into his mirror. their mind communication and the dark powers sauron could share with her through their bound could make her even more obsessed with slaying him herself, and that could be conflicted with her feelings for halbrand who she slowly realizes indeed is sauron.

it simply makes 0 sense for her to be obsessed beyond the reason with the idea of him for centuries and then get over it after one fight where she actually faces him!

anyways, fingers crossed that the incelbros don't get their way and the writers don't cater to the misogynistic demographic 🤞

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Has Galadriel already touched the darkness?

Yes. When? In this scene:

And she’ll have to deal with the consequences of it in Season 3.

Until this point she didn’t touch the darkness. Her being proud, rebellious or killing Orcs isn’t “touching the darkness”. From that point of view, every Elf was dark, which isn't the case. She's royalty, she's a princess, and behaves as such: of course she's arrogant, and proud, and thinks she's always right and can do whatever she wants. That's not being "dark". She enjoys power, and for others to bow down to her will, that's the reason why Sauron's temptation was to make her queen, because that's what she truly wants. And that D, but that's a question for another time.

The "darkness" in Tolkien lore is absolute corruption, and perversion of purpose and of Eru’s creation. It’s what Morgoth did to Mairon, and to every other Maia who became a servant of his.

We see the effects of darkness in both Mairon and Adar. Adar tell us a bit about this process, in 2x01: 

In the eldest of the Elder Days. Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth's hand, with the promise of power. A new birth. I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left. And after what seemed endless thirst and hunger...

And this is why Sauron cries in this scene: he’s recalling the “lovely time” he had being blessed by Morgoth’s hand.

Mairon being the worst case, here: he was a Maia of Aulë, as everyone must be aware by now. He fell prey to Morgoth’s seduction of promises of power, and betrayed the Valar, and eventually become Sauron.

How did Mairon became Sauron, you ask? Thousands of years of torture and corruption, where Mairon was broken, ripped apart and reshaped by Morgoth until all of his original Eru ordained purposes were reversed: loyalty became deceit; good became evil; order became control; perfection became domination; loyalty became deceit/treachery; and beauty turned into abomination.

We joked about “evil Barbie” and how Sauron gets more androgenous as he goes deep into evil, but this is also a side-effect of Morgoth’s corruption of him, actually. Because Aulë is suppose to be “macho man” on steroids (hyper masculinity). We see this with the Dwarves (Children of Aulë) too: both men and women are very masculine and have beards, and, according to Tolkien, it’s hard for outsiders to tell them apart.

The Children of Aulë are pretty much what we saw from Halbrand (Repentant Mairon) in Season 1. While Elves are "delicate beauty", these tough mountain dwellers are Dirty Hot beauty. So, I don't understand why so many in the Tolkien fandom expect the Maiar of Aulë to be any different, only more "angelic" looking.

OG Mairon would have looked something like this, but angelic instead of human:

Look at this freaking Dwarvish-inspired necklace! This is peak Mairon, the Maia of Aulë.

So, another one of the side effects of Morgoth’s corruption was the “feminization” of Mairon, and he'll get more androgynous as he goes deeper into evil. Meaning, Morgoth corrupted his hyper-masculinity, which raises some... strange questions.

So, yes, Halbrand/Mairon/Sauron is absolutely correct when he asks Galadriel “what do you know of darkness?” Because she’s acts like she does, but doesn’t. At all.

“Touching the darkness” is what happened to the Sons of Fëanor, during the quest for the Silmarils, and it involved endless bloodshed, kinslaying, etc. And at the end, Maglor and Maedhros were so corrupted by darkness they couldn’t even hold the jewels on their hands, anymore. Galadriel knows nothing of this, because she never done things like this.

[aran-morinorea]

Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea: I want to hear about Annatar's Shit Paradigms, of course :D

...All right so here's the thing you don't get Annatar's Shit Paradigms because it needed so much groundwork before I can begin to write actual prose. But you do get this whole thing describing Annatar's interiority in the months after The Inciting Event for the whole au. Because I needed to pin it down so I can even start Annatar's Shit Paradigms.

--

Celebrimbor confronts Annatar - Tar-Mairon - about his activities in Mordor, gives him the “Your evil plans or me” ultimatum, and then Mairon fucks off to go have a tantrum.

This tantrum involves: 

Going back to Barad-dur and killing some people who definitely 100% deserved it for sure. 

That thing where someone goes to a bathroom and splashes water on their face and looks in the mirror while leaning on the sink except it’s lava instead of water. 

Laying facedown in the fires of Mount Doom and rethinking his life. 

Causing multiple earthquakes. 

...Thinking about the joy of watching Celebrimbor learn and make things. 

Thinking about the satisfaction of working in partnership with someone else, someone as vibrant and strong and smart and wonderful as Celebrimbor. 

Thinking about going and taking Celebrimbor by force, laying siege to Ost-in-Edhil and putting him in chains and bringing him here and keeping him.

… Thinking about how strong and vibrant and stubborn and principled Celebrimbor is. 

Thinking about whether Celebrimbor would be one of those people who would rather die than live as a thrall. 

Realizing that yes, Celebrimbor absolutely would die for what he believes in, and it would be so much work to try keep his spirit around, and it wouldn’t be nearly the same as having him - really having him - having him to work and argue and play with - having his love.

Remembering that Celebrimbor still doesn’t know about the Sauron thing, and he might be able to keep it that way.

Remembering that Celebrimbor did not cast him out of his life unequivocally - he will not be the friend or lover of a slaver and an imperialist, but if Mairon takes steps to stop being those things -

Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to stop being those things.

Realizing he’s genuinely considering just giving up on the vision of Melkor.

Spontaneously filling the whole room with flames.

That was the throne room. He’d been sitting there, motionless and completely unresponsive, for four days.

There might have been people in there who will be annoying to replace. Mairon simply cannot care about it right now.

Remaining on fire while thinking about Melkor’s promises.

He said it was only a matter of time.

He said it would be better to put the rightful king on the throne of Arda quickly, and get back to the business of metals and fractals, than to fight a long defeat and be judged unworthy at the end, never having time for beauty again.

And then He lost.

Three times out of four.

As soon as the Valar bothered to interfere.

And maybe, at the end, after the final battle, it would be better, safer, to have been working toward His purposes the whole time He was gone, but -

Thinking about what would happen if the Valar bothered to interfere with his current projects.

…Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to be - in truth, even, maybe! - someone Celebrimbor could love.

How hard would it be to act within the boundaries of Celebrimbor’s principles?

He did not say “Believe what I believe.”

He did not say “Cease to be a monster.”

He said “Your policies are monstrous and I cannot support them,” which suggests that it is the action that matters most to him. That the problem is what he is doing, and not what he is.

Changing that does not seem so hard.

Perhaps it will be a fun challenge, like an arbitrary restriction for a jewelcraft competition.

And really - if anyone is going to change him - if he’s going to accept anyone’s judgement - if there’s anyone currently in Arda who Mairon thinks is right - would it not be Celebrimbor?

Of course it would.

Deciding that, you know what, Mairon would be willing to commit to Celebrimbor’s vision - if Celebrimbor will fucking commit to him.

This is so Mairon can keep him.

So that they will twine their souls together and be - be that partnership which is so full of joy.

Deciding that if Celebrimbor won’t do it - if he wants “Annatar” to give him this without giving anything in return - then - yes.

Then he will find another way to keep him. 

And it would not be as good, it would not be Mairon’s shining vision, but it would be something. And eventually Celebrimbor would see the value in Mairon’s methods. He’s sure of it.

When he’s finally done with his tantrum, Annatar climbs out of the magma-filled crevasse he'd been sulking in and goes up to draft the words to a wedding proposal.

[wordbunch]

Time to say a handful of things abt s02 finale!!!

under the cut so you can avoid it! :)

However I am very much looking forward to reading everyones comments opinions feelings etc ♡

Did I expect to cry over the death of freaking king durin in the first 0.3 minutes??? That scene was so incredibly well done and I was like omg am I glad to be witnessing this for the first time🥹😭 yes I'm still pissed I couldn't see LOTR in cinemas cause I was still in freaking diapers

NAAARSILLLLLLLL narsil our beloved, I was squealing, yes OUT LOUD. narsil bbygirl you will always be famous 💅🏻 elendil go slay

I know yall pay him dust but ISILDUR I always love to see him and I love him and theo being the resident trouble brothers duo (its giving merry and pippin but Doomed). Sorry not sorry but yall moved on too fast (I DIDNT!) from the fact he feels guilty for his moms death. pls i am HUGGING HIM! his doe eyes I am deceased. pls I just want to stare at his face for eternity. MY PERSONAL HEADCANON WAS CONFIRMED 😩💦 that boy kisses like he is STARVEDDDD

[Redacted thoughts here]

Stranger yes we knew he was gonna be gandalf but. I love a name drop. I love Tom and I love choosing friendship over power and I love the staff and I love everything . They're giving me my childhood dreamlike feeling and I am so grateful I get to see a glimpse of that story 🥹💛

So many SPEECHES foreshadowing SO MANY THINGS. I am obsessed. The absolute cruelty of celebrimbors death and the death of his works....the one SINGLE TEAR on annatars face....dare I say peak p o e t I c cinema.

Where do I even begin with HALADRIEL ✨️✨️✨️ charlie the lord of acting and just like. in his eyes you can see everything and more. I need to write a dissertation on their duel istg

The way he didnt hesitate to absolutely PURR "GALADRRRIEL" every. single. time. [Redacted thoughts]

I WOULD HAVE PLACED A CROWN ON YOUR HEAD.

do you want me to like die?????

I SEE YOU.

yes actually they do want me to die.

HUMAN HALBRAND???

And RIP to me indeed.

[Ultra redacted thoughts]

I audibly WHIMPERED. sweet lord i was like My poor babygirl has to endure this manipulation 😩😩😩😩 he stooped so low and I was so here for it but girl i would have F O L D E D 😔✊🏻

Then galadriel on galadriel violence??? The only thing better than galadriel TWO galadriels actually.

but then.

the elrond and rivendell of it all. rob aramayo has never looked more gorgeous than when he took nenya to heal Gal. WE GET TO SEE HEALER ELROND GROWING INTO HIMSELF WITH OUR OWN EYES!!!! you don't UNDERSTAND i spent 20 YEARS dreaming of rivendell and now I get to see it coming to be!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭💚💚💚💚 the way that you can see gears turning in his head as he takes the ring. the camerawork ate and devoured i fear - with your own eyes you can see him growing. developing. like yes I am feeling more ready to take charge of some things. what if I CAN do it. what if I CAN make so many things and people so much better????

and u will babyboy 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Do i even need to add i had full body chills at the scene of elrond,gil,galadriel and arondir!!!!!!! on the cliff!!!!!!

BITCH THE SUN STILL RISES!!!!! Pity CAN defeat sauron!!! friendship and light DO WIN over darkness!!!! The tolkienism of it all. i will rewatch a hundred times and then some.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

[lamemaster]

The Curse of the Uncursed (Thranduil x Feanorian Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue |

Summary: What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

AN: thank you everyone for your kind words for the last part of this fic. I enjoyed reading every single one of them after long hours of work. That being said, sorry for the delay but here is the last part of this series. I may work on some headcanons about the plot in the future but nothing is set right now. I hope you enjoy this.

Legolas feels the lands of his birth leave him as he watches the shores of Aman greet him. His kingdom, his father, his people, and their memories are all left on the nether shores. All but his friend, Gimli, who stands beside him.

Maybe someday, in some peaceful age, he would welcome his father to these shores. A lungful of grief and a heartful of joy fill him as he finds his grandfather, King Oropher, on the shores.

He embraces his grandfather in the way of men, a way taught by Aragorn. And his grandfather, although taken aback, hugs him back with equal vigor. None of them mention Thranduil. They cannot bring themselves to.

Legolas' eyes wander, looking for someone else. Someone he has never seen, someone he does not remember yet knows. His mother. He looks for you, whose name he has not heard once from his father's lips.

Yet, he knows that you have loved him more than life. And now that he stands on the shores of the land that you live on, Legolas does not see you in the crowd of people welcoming him.

"Her kind is not welcomed on these shores," Oropher speaks, noticing Legolas' wandering eyes. "Not after what they did ages ago."

Hot, seething rage fills Legolas at the hostility he sees in his grandfather's eyes. Was this what his mother faced while bearing him? Such hatred that she had no part in. "Her son is a part of the reason that Arda remains peaceful and the Dark Lord Sauron stays defeated," for the first time, Legolas lets pride and steel of wrath seep into his voice.

"And if these shores cannot welcome my mother, who has been forgiven by the Valar, then I see no reason to be here any longer," with these words, Legolas finds his feet walking away from his grandfather, who does nothing to stop him.

He is aware of Gimli calling for him, but he continues walking as his Dwarven friend complains about emotionally constipated elves. Everything feels too unfair. Why did his mother face such hostility when she did nothing wrong? How sad must she have been with how everyone treated her? And he…he wasn't there for her.

Guilt builds in his heart, and the streets of Alqualonde blur as tears cloud his eyes. He wants to leave so badly. He wants his mother. He wants to comfort her and take away her pain. He wants to reassure her and make her smile.

Legolas bumps into a figure, and a warm voice greets him. "And here I thought I would welcome my grandnephew with smiles," a voice he does not remember. A golden-haired and silver-eyed elf smiles at Legolas.

Atandil, or "Friend of Men," King of Nargothrond, Finrod, beams at Legolas.

"Yonya, your pacing would help little. I recommend you sit and wait. That Findarto is pretty good with his words. He would definitely charm your son into coming here," Celegorm comments, perched on a chaise as he observes you pacing around the room.

His own anxiety is well-hidden behind his cocky exterior. You turn to look at your father, "Do not talk like that about Uncle," you warm him. It had taken decades of your work to mend the broken ties between the Finweans. Your father and Uncle Finrod had been one of the toughest ones to work with.

Your heart races as you imagine your son somewhere on the shores of Aman. So close, yet so far. Only your respect for the Teleri holds you back from rushing to the shores that would bear your son's ship.

Your son, who played a big part in the destruction of the rings once forged by your cousin, Celebrimbor. "I will definitely brag about my grandson to that Curufin. Let him know the actual hero of Arda," you shake your head at your father's obnoxious words. You would have to make sure that he truly does not offend your uncle or Celebrimbor, who seems to be recovering well.

What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

As Celegorm's words linger in the air, your pacing slows, and you reluctantly settle into a nearby chair. The room is filled with a mix of anticipation and unease, and your mind drifts to the memories of your son, Legolas, whom you have never met in person. It has always been a painful void in your heart, knowing that you couldn't be there for him in his formative years.

Your thoughts turn to the events that shaped his life—the battles fought, the sacrifices made, and the role he played in the destruction of the rings. Pride swells within you, mingled with a bittersweet ache. Legolas, your son, is a beacon of hope in a world plagued by darkness. The knowledge of his accomplishments fills you with immense joy, but it also deepens the yearning to be with him, to hold him in your arms.

You gaze at your father, whose tongue always seems to wander freely, his remarks occasionally straying into offensive territory. The mending of broken ties within the family has required delicate care, and you have worked tirelessly to foster understanding and forgiveness. The last thing you want is for your father's words to undo the progress made.

"Ata, please," you implore gently, your voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and determination.

Your father sighs, his expression softening, "I will welcome my grandson and offer all that we have, but never, in this eternity, will I ever welcome his father," steel of hatred fills your father's jovial voice as he talks about your husband, Thranduil. "He who made you suffer, made you cry, made you pay for wrongs you had no part in, has no place in my heart," your heart shudders as you observe the wrath in your father's eyes.

"He held no mercy for you, not even when you bore his child, not even the decency to let you meet your son," Celegorm gets up from his seat, and his eyes brim with tears as he cups your face in his hands. "He made you suffer for my crimes. He made my daughter go through the worst of fates ever. I cannot forgive that. Not even in this blessed land."

Thranduil remains one subject that your father never switches his views on. Of all the repentance and grief, your husband is a thorn in your father's heart.

You do not speak anything on the topic of your husband. You cannot bring yourself to. Guilt, remorse, and regret make it hard to do so.

As Legolas steps through the magnificent halls of Tirion, his heart beats louder than ever. He cannot bring himself to be awed by the glamour of the city or its palace. All he can do is steel his mind to keep up with his granduncle Finrod's steps.

Yearning greater than the depth of the ocean, the endurance of a mountain, or the vastness of the entire sky seems to fill his every pore.

Anticipation, fear, and joy all crowd his heart. The mother who loved him greater than life,

would she love him still? Would she be pleased to see him as he would be to her? Would she let him be a part of her grief and allow him to share his?

With all these questions plaguing his mind, Legolas finds himself rooted in the spot as he watches Finrod push open the doors that separate his mother and him. Mere wooden doors that seem to be most potent at that moment.

A curtain of long silvery hair and sparkling green eyes, like the beginnings of the spring that Mirkwood was once known for, greets Legolas. You… his mother…

He does not hear the background voices of Finrod or others. Nothing matters in that moment. Legolas feels whole for the first time in his life.

He watches as you rush towards him, your steps hurried, and when in the haste of your movement your feet falter, Legolas finds himself supporting you, catching your arms and holding you.

"Yondo," after a separation so long, Legolas cannot will himself to stop his tears at the first mention of an address from his mother. He does not stop you when, with trembling hands, you cup his face and kiss the top of his head.

Maybe not all the wrongs in the world can be undone, maybe Arda truly can never be unmarred, but it remains beautiful nevertheless. And Legolas believes it to be true at this moment.

Feanor's heart weeps. He has yearned, raged, and lamented for many, but never has a sorrow been so potent as the hurt of his grandchildren.

Since he first caught a glimpse of Celegorm's child from the solitary halls of Mandos, he cannot help but feel endeared towards you, who resemble his mother so much.

Maybe, in those long years, it was your well-being that kept Feanor looking out for the nis growing up in the lands of the Sindar.

Your grief, your joy, your love, all feel too personal to Feanor. Closer than the Silmaril or the pains of his own children. But that means that Feanor witnessed your fall. With an irony stronger than ever, your fate is similar to Miriel's.

Feanor's soul burns with the hatred of a thousand suns for the Sinda who abandoned his granddaughter, who left you alone and cold, yearning for your son. In those moments of despair, even the confines of Mandos's halls tremble at his rage.

This restlessness only grows until he meets you. You, who, even in the grief of your own death, came to console him. In those moments, Feanor's soul cannot help but mellow down at your gentle urging.

So, Feanor spends ages in the desolate halls of Mandos, looking over his family that resides in the blessed realm. And his great-grandson, who fights against the Lieutenant of Morgoth.

The lands of once Greenwood the Great now lie overrun by wild vines and overpowering fauna. A forest that was once a kingdom now speaks only of ruins. The elves who once resided there have long left for the shores of Aman.

Only one remains. A fallen king who wears no crown. A king who does not sit on a throne. Instead, he spends ages trapped in a room. No lock, no shackles bind him, but he remains seated by a window.

A window that witnesses changing seasons and the paths of the sun and moon.

The one called Thranduil awaits his redemption or any form of forgiveness. He does so now that he remains free of his role as the king to his people or a father to his son. For now, he remains Thranduil, who once wedded you and Thranduil who once loved you more than his soul.

In those moments of solitude, Thranduil allows himself to read every single one of your letters from long ago. Long ago, when you waited for him in the same room. He grieves as he reads. He allows himself to mourn for the loss of his love, you, your marriage, and his very self.

Maybe the age of elves is over, but Thranduil's repentance stretches long into the eternity of Arda.

[allbycharles]

You are in Rivendell and somehow your laptop works? Oc insert time everybody!

Possible reactions of your new elven friends to seeing the Lord of the Rings movies:

A) they of course understand all of the elven lyrics and therefore have several times stronger emotional reactions to the movie

(sobbing elves left and right)

B) they pronounce quenya differently so they are dying of laughter in serious scenes like for example dying Haldir

(you were afraid they would cringe...you forgot they were elves)

C) they never saw a moving picture so they are unable to tell it from reality which ends in all of them running around screaming about Sauron being back.

(Elrond is not happy with you.)

D) they cannot get over the fact every historical detail is kinda tweaked and refuse to watch anything after first ten minutes

(They are horrified this is being shown to children without proper education)

E) they see it all, consider it great and ask for more. To which you promptly pull out your WD disc and promptly turn Hall of Fire into cinema.

F) after few first fighting scenes they start wildly discussing if the shown fighting strategies are correct and maybe would have been better to use or are complete bullshit.

You dont get far in the story but its fun.

G) you kiiiiinda forgot they were all in some point in a war conflict....therefore everyone has a huge PTSD attack

(congratulations, they hate movies now...you wish you had started with Love Actually)

H) nobody sees anything....elven immortal eyes are too fast to see anything else than an awkward slideshow of pictures and they all get a migraine

[galactic-rhea]

Did you have any foreknowledge that Anakin would become Darth Vader? I feel like even if you had Revenge of the Sith must have been quite an experience

Lmao I didn't know that until I came across this gif here in tumblr:

'oh damn'

That said, because of that gif, I did know he was going to be one of the most iconic and recognizeable villains of cinema by the time I started to watch the movies. But, my knowledge of what would happen was very, very narrow, I was very in the dark about it lol

Is easier to point out the things that I knew when starting the movies than the ones I didn't:

-He would lose his limbs (I did not know how, I didn't know he literally burned. And I only knew that he loses his limbs because my partner )

-He kills kids (and that I knew just because a meme that my hubby had to explain to me, but I didn't know the circumstances. In fact, what I pictured was much worse LOL)

-He kills(? Padmé (I asked my hubby if he and Padmé divorced, and he just decided to throw that spoiler at me like "no, he kills her accidentally" without further context and I was like...oh woah okay...I...generally don't like villains that kill their wives but i'll still check that out)

-Samuel L. Jackson is in these movies! :D

-HE IS LUKE'S FATHER OMG OMG AND IS TWINS OMG LEIA?? ...Wait don't Leia and Luke kiss- Oh okay

And sufficient to say: ROTS still destroyed me emotionally, what a trip. But I had a blast watching these movies, and it was also a blast watching the Original Trilogy after that! I was so, so stunned about the end of ROTJ, because seriously I always thought Luke kills Vader even when my interest on SW was below zero.

And no, I still don't know how at 24 i managed to know so little about Star Wars SJNKJNSDF

What I thought would happen in these movies was that my guy here was going to be just this cool merciless villain from about the get-go and we would just met him as an adult already. Like, he would be this dark jedi working by himself ruining the order from the inside, going into murders on weekends and blame someone else for fun, the war would be his doing, and being creepy towards everyone included his wife was probably his hobby, idk, you get it, your basic 'cool lonely villain', like maybe a Sauron of sorts.

And then George Lucas tackled me with... this

Hey, I'm not complaining.

My hiperfixation on Anakin and Star Wars helped me a lot with my depression, truth be told!

[thepiedpiper94]

This is going to be my one and only post about Rings of Power for this season and all future seasons because I literally can not with this show anymore, but I feel like this needs to be said.

In the show they are using the idea that Sauron need to physically touch the rings, or the materials they are made with, in order for him to have corrupted them/have influence over them. Thus they are saying because Sauron never touched the three elven rings they are free of his corruption and influence. THIS. IS. A. LIE.

In the season finale of the first season of Rings of Power (season 1 episode 8, titled Alloyed) at around the 10 minute 26 second mark, when Celebrimbor first meets Sauron disguised as Halbrand, Sauron literally picks up the piece of mithril that was used to create the three elven rings. He literally touched the materials used to make the three elven rings, just as they showed him doing in season 2 episode 3 when they're creating the dwarven rings. Not to mention they literally show Sauron disguised as Halbrand helping to create the three elven rings later in the episode. You're going to tell me, in all that time they were creating the rings, not once did Sauron actually physically touch them? Even if that some how happens to be the case, I would like to reiterate that Sauron did indeed touch the materials to create the three elven rings. So tell me again amazon, tell me again Rings of Power writers, tell me again Rings of Power showrunners J. D. Payne and Patrick McKay, how are you sticking in anyway to Tolkien's lore? Because, yeah sure, I get that things need to be changed when adapting the written word to film, HOWEVER, changing something so crucial to the story like Sauron taking no part in the creation of the elven rings? That is something that changes the story in it's entirety.

Sauron did touch the elven rings in your show. Stop trying to act like your audience is stupid or they'll forget what you did.

[rebelrebelwrites]

i need to know WHOMST braided galadriel's hair on that numenorean ship. after she walked up to halbrand at the start like it was a d*mn wedding and i am somehow meant not to take all this as romantic? i need a moment *sobs*

Hello anon! I don’t often get these so I’m delighted to hear from you. Oh gosh, I’d say there’s a lot of Haladriel/Saurondriel shippers who already headcanon Halbrand/Sauron for this one (as well as him having made Gal’s very perfectly-fitted, very not-Numenorean armor — at least, compared to everyone else’s…).

I am 99% positive I’ve read this very thing in a Numenor-based fic… I’ve just done a quick look through my bookmarks/recs and didn’t find the story/stories I’m thinking of, so if anyone knows any, please feel free to share! (I feel like this may have happened in @theriverwild’s Autocorrelation? Am I getting that wrong?)

All that being said, I agree! I suppose you could argue Galadriel probably knows how to braid her own hair, but it’s much more fun to imagine Halbrand giving her a helping hand. 😊 And there’s no way a former smith of Aulë doesn’t know how to braid, amirite? It’s right there.

But yeah, whole boarding the ship scene was shot like a wedding and no way you’re changing my mind that it basically was one in Sauron’s mind. 😂

[rey-jake-therapist]

I can’t believe Galadriel is so obsessed with finding Sauron and fuc- *cough* destroy *cough* him, that she actually revealed Nenya’s location and that Elrond is the one who carries it??? She endangered her friend just like that, huh? Girl, you are not well.

She might have wanted to use this bit of information to stop Adar from attacking Eregion, but come on, she’s thousands of years old, how naïve can she be? She’s not thinking straight. She’s galloping like just Sauron told her last season. Galadriel, girl, I love you, but you need to chill. The showrunners better let her have some of that Sauron D before she gets everyone killed.

Totally agree, anon ! I couldn't believe my ears when Galadriel revealed the location of Nenya and her battle plans with Adar. Did she really believe that he would just let her walk free after that? I asume that she believed to be the smart one, as she thought that Adar had only one legion and that Elrond's Elves would cut them into pieces if they tried to steal Nenya from Elrond. But still, it was reckless and not very well thought. Sauron would have handled the situation much better, just sayin' lol

By the way, I know it's tempting to believe that Galadriel will be put back in a cage to lure Sauron out, but I don't think that Adar believes that Sauron cares anough about her to take the bait. Imho, Galadriel will be a bait for Elrond, and it's why we see Adar confront Elrond in the trailer ; Adar may try to trade Nenya for Galadriel.

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

Things I love about Season 2 of Rings of Power So Far – in no particular order

1. The entire beginning of episode 1

a. Love Sauron in his fair form off his game and a little shaken

b. Love Adar growing increasingly fed up with Sauron’s bullshit

c. Love the Ides of March moment

d. Love goo Sauron – love his little sigh. That’s me every morning when I wake up

2. Love that Sauron was always a shit and stole the badge instead of saving that guy

3. Love the Elrond-Galadriel brother-sister dynamic and poor Gil-galad caught in the middle

4. Love the Ahhh! Gil-Galad lets out when hearing that Sauron is back

5. Love Elrond jumping off the cliff. Worked for Mom (kinda) should work for me

6. I really want whatever the hell Cirdan is on

a. Also Ben Daniels is AMAZING!

7. Love that Gil-Galad gets to shine more as the grumpy, sassy, weary elf-king this season. Also love that no one is letting Galadriel get away with her bullshit from last season (and I loved Galadriel last season). Actions has consequences, even for elves.

8. YOU HAD ONE JOB, CIRDAN!

9. Why does no one ever listen to Elrond?

10. Sam Hazeldine is doing an amazing job with a tough job. I will always love Joseph Mawle’s take on Adar and he’ll always be MY Adar, but Sam is going an amazing job taking all the groundwork laid by Mawle and then adding his own spin

11. I know the internet is losing its mind over Orc families, but I LOVE the complication these writers are adding to the Orc lore (as well as Sauron’s arc). Even in Return of the King, the Orcs were shown to have their own personalities and weren’t exactly excited about attacking Gondor again. Even in Two Towers, we see the different personalities of Uruk-hai and the Morder Orcs, so it only makes sense to flesh that out further. It adds such an amazing dimension to Adar’s character and the Orcs he cares for and makes us realize that nothing in Tolkien’s world is black and white.

a. Also, also, I love that these writers embrace the fact that Elves are not impartial and they’re hypocritical bastards haha. Of course, they say dwarves and men are covetous and can’t be trusted. Of course, Orcs are irredeemable. To suggest otherwise would jeopardize their own world view. And the Elves have never been covetous or committed genocide for stupid gems. Nope, not ever.

b. Also, also, also love the idea that the Orcs are doomed because they’re convinced Eru will never forgive them, even if they were to ask for it. Such an interesting dilemma to add to the lore. I mean even Sauron considered asking for forgiveness but didn’t because of his pride. If the Valar forgave Morgoth once, and potentially considered pardoning Sauron, who says they wouldn’t forgive the creatures he and Morgoth twisted/corrupted/made?

12. Love Sauron “befriending” the warg. See even the Dark Lord likes dog.

13. Goodbye Waldreg, no one will miss you.

14. Who knew Benjamin Walker had such a nice voice?

15. I’m so surprised Elrond didn’t just completely lose it and go all rabid animal when Cirdan brought back the rings.

16. It’s so funny that this version of Galadriel gets a ring of power. Out of all the Elves to get one, she’s on the bottom of my list. At least make sure she’s Sauron free first.

17. DISA YOU ARE MY QUEEN AND GODDESS!!!

18. LOVE the dwarves.

19. “You don’t have to make this harder than it already is” YES I DO BITCH BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING A STUBBORN GOAT

20. Love that Disa can call out both her father-in-liaw (and king) and her husband for being jackasses

21. Also Durin III stop being a jackass and go apologize to your son, right now

22. Resonating is still so fucking awesome

23. Love the agricultural in Khazad dum

24. I know I was the odd man out because I didn’t mind the Harfoots last season, but I really adore the Stranger’s relationship with Nori.

25. I REALLY hope the Stranger is a blue wizard, but either way I love how Daniel Weyman plays a wizard. And it’s nice he can talk this season and we get a sense of his humor and sass.

26. “Further, Nori” *sigh of exasperation*

27. I have no idea who the hell this evil wizard is nor who the hell his moth minions are, but I love them. They’re so weird.

28. This guy better NOT be Saruman. -_-

29. Poppy! My lesbian Harfoots are reunited!

30. Celebrimbor *sigh* oh, Celebrimbor

31. Elrond “sand the anger away, Sand the anger away.”

32. LOVE the look Galadriel gives Elrond when he calls her out about NOT being manipulated. “He gave you everything you wanted”. True, but also damn, haha.

33. Seriously, I NEED whatever drug Cirdan is smoking.

34. Also love how in this show “yeah, let’s give the rings a try. What’s the worst that can happen” and in LOTR it’s “NO! DO NOT TRUTST THE RING! DESTROY IT ASAP”

35. I can’t believe Halbrand made it rain just so he can look more like a pathetic cat

36. Ok, that umbrella is ridiculous and super impractical.

37. Celebrimbor, honey, the whole “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted” is the oldest trick in the manipulator’s handbook.

38. I love the rollercoaster Celebrimbor goes on as Halbrand “confesses” that he’s not really a man. The utter confusion but also concern, like “my god is this man having a mental breakdown in my forge? And right when I was about to open a bottle of first age wine. Where’s Galadriel when I need her? She should be taking care of her pet human, not me.”

39. NOT THE FIRST AGE WINE!!!

40. I LOVE the reveal of Annatar. It was so over the time and beautiful and so religious. No notes. Absolutely perfect.

41. I was never on team silvergifting, but this show has converted me.

42. Also Charlie Vickers and Charles Edwards are giving their ALL in these scenes

43. Love that Celebrimbor is like “ew, no, we can’t give men rings” but when Annatar tells him that Gil-Galad “doesn’t trust the dwarves” Celebrimbor takes it so personally. Like I think it’s because he’s annoyed with Gil-Galad and he wants to control his own forge, but it also sounds like he’s offended that Gil-Galad would insult his new dwarf buddies (who helped him build the new forge to begin with).

44. Durin proving himself the wisest of all peoples (not just dwarves) when he calls Annatar out on his bullshit

45. “Elrond would never say such nice things about me.”

46. Also love all the clever insults and phrases the dwarves have.

47. I’m still very angry with Durin III but I felt that line, “Miner’s punches hurt” “Just wait until your children grow up.”

48. ALSO, Durin III you bastard, your son tells you he DOESN’T trust the rings and you decide, “yeah, let me try out these rings” -_-

a. Also, yes, Celebrimbor and Annatar fucked before, during, and after making the dwarven rings.

49. Oh, Isildur, you disaster child.

a. Again, I might be in the minority here, but I LOVE what they’re doing with Isildur’s character – the perpetual screw-up, the one who tries so hard but can’t do anything right, the character who’s constantly trying to prove himself in a family that is already overly impressive. Makes his final fate just that more tragic.

50. Spider babies. Spider babies. Spider babies.

a. Reminded me of the facehugger birthing scenes from the Aliens franchise for some reason.

51. Super Berek! Here to save the day

52. So, I guess all the men in Aragorn’s bloodline were saved by their horses at least once. Good to know.

53. LOVE the entire ridiculous exchange between Isildur and Estrid.

54. God damn it, Isildur, don’t go to the funeral, save Berek!

55. ☹ Poor Arondir. RIP Bronwyn.

56. Fucking Theo

57. God damn it Arondir, maybe look around next time before telling one kid his family will be reunited in front of the one kid who’s lost his entire family XD

58. “Men can’t build things like that” ☹

59. So, Theo is going to be Isildur’s right hand man and/or will be a ringwraith, right?

60. Operation rescue Berek!

61. Ents? Are those Ents?

62. MIRIEL MY OTHER GODDESS AND QUEEN!!!

63. My brother and I when that woman slapped Miriel: “OFF TO JAIL WITH YOU!”

64. Fucking Earien. Kemen is soooo not worth it

65. Fucking Pharazon.

a. ALSO, love how the writers captured men’s creepy behavior around women in power, especially if they’re “not perfect”. Like when Miriel’s father was alive Pharazon was somewhat respectful around her, but my god that scene in her bedroom? So disgusting and creepy. AND fucking Kemen, “she was blinded while fighting Orcs and surviving a massive eruption. She can’t be queen now” Bitch you couldn’t even sabotage a handful of boats by yourself.

66. Also, also, I know everyone loves Haladriel, but can we talk about the other idiotic couple pining over each other: Elendil and Miriel? Love their dynamic sooooo much.

67. Ok Miriel’s coronation dress is GORGEOUS!

68. That poor eagle was so fucking confused. Like I came here for Miriel, not sure what you all are doing. Ok, this is awkward, I’m flying away now.

[fiddleabout]

TRICK OR TREAT! :D

seems like everyone i know who's getting this is posting fic snippets so uhhh okay here you go:

Ava's life ends with a fire, and with a dark sky, and with the world collapsing around her.

She crashes onto a rock, stumbling legs barely making the jump, and falls entirely onto her face.  Her whole body thrums with pain, with a loss that feels like peace, with the understanding that they succeeded, they saved the world, they saved everyone.

Beatrice lands at her side, inelegant and crumpling, filthy with volcanic ash ash and the grime of keeping them both upright after so long, from hauling Ava up the mountain when the ring had worn down the last of her strength.  She’s bleeding from a gash just over her temple, hands and knees blistered from the superheated rocks she’d landed on to drag Ava back from the edge, back from her own failure.

They saved the world, but not for them.  They saved the world, but only for everyone else.  There’s no ring left, no Sauron. No destiny anymore, no future, no journey home to a realm and a throne and a people that have been waiting generations for her to find her way to them.  Just Ava and Beatrice, here alone at the end like it had for so long been just Ava and Beatrice, a lost heir and a discarded outcast, alone together at the beginning.

Ava curls onto her side, her breaking body resisting the effort, until she can bury her head in Beatrice’s neck and drop her hand onto the ragged worn shirt covering Beatrice’s stomach, armor long lost.  There’s always been a familiar scent to Beatrice, constant as her steady heartbeat, warm and clean.  Now, though, as the world ends around them, ash settling light on them and lava creeping closer and closer, Beatrice smells like blood and sweat and exhaustion.

Distantly, the tower crumbles, a shockwave that shudders the mountain and the fading ache of Ava's pulse as she finally, finally, lets herself rest. Closer, a hand curls along the back of Ava’s neck, up into her hair, and a small choked noise escapes into the side of Beatrice’s neck.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Ava says, because even here, even now, with the world ending around them and no way out, she still can’t put proper words to it.  Ava’s spent her whole life running, running from her name and her blood and her birthright, from her duty and her future and her people, from Beatrice.  “Here, at the end of all things.”