#takes place during the almaren days

[cilil]

M - Mountains

Characters: Aiwendil (Radagast) & Curumo (Saruman)

Synopsis: Aiwendil disturbs visits Curumo while he's working.

Warnings: /

Drabble

"What do you want?"

Curumo gives Aiwendil a strict look. Aulë tasked him with repairing a mountain near Almaren, yet it seems a certain Maia has other ideas. 

"Shouldn't you be gathering plants?" 

Aiwendil looks up at him with his big brown eyes, fidgeting with the bag he's holding. He appears to be gathering his courage, then suddenly hands him a flower. 

"For you." 

Curumo reflexively accepts, yet before he can say anything in response, Aiwendil vanishes like a startled rabbit. 

Shaking his head, he turns back to the mountain. He may be a fool, but a rather adorable one.

taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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[ainurmoodboards]

Tulkas, Valarin Tulukhastaz

The Strong, The Valiant, Champion of the Valar

Astaldo, Poldórëa, Ender

Tulkas was the last Ainu to descend into Arda, having heard of the other Valar's struggles against Melkor from far off in the heavens. Melkor might have defeated the other Valar if Tulkas hadn't arrived, and his laughter and wrath intimidated Melkor enough that he fled, which started the Spring of Arda. He was known for his strength and agility, and had no need for weapons, armor, or a steed. Tulkas has a complex personality; he laughed constantly, even during battle, and was considered to be a good friend who rarely got angry. But he was also impatient and didn't learn from his mistakes, and rarely forgave offenses. It may be for these reasons that Tulkas, despite his great physical strength and key role in the Valar's struggle against Melkor, was not counted among the eight most powerful Valar known as the Aratar.

After the Valar raised the Two Lamps Tulkas married Nessa on the island of Almaren, the first dwelling of the Valar. While some of the Valar were already married, Tulkas and Nessa's wedding was the first marriage to take place within Arda itself. After the wedding feast Tulkas, being wearing from his role in shaping Arda, rested, and Melkor used that time to strike. The Spring of Arda was ruined, the Two Lamps and Almaren were destroyed, and the Valar retreated to Aman, where they made their new dwelling. Later, Tulkas was delighted when the Valar decided to wage war against Melkor again to regain control of Arda and protect the newly awakened elves. Following a long siege of Melkor's stronghold Utumno, Tulkas wrestled Melkor and bound him with the enchanted chain Angainor, and he was brought back to Aman. For a long time afterwards, the world was temporarily free from Melkor's corruption. Tulkas was disappointed when Manwë granted Melkor freedom after he had served his "term" and refused to trust Melkor, but he did not challenge Manwë's decision.

Tulkas' wife is Nessa, who is the best dancer and who, like Tulkas, is known for her speed. Together they are associated with celebrations, and early works by Tolkien describe the House of Tulkas as being filled with feasting and warriors engaging in atheltic games while Nessa bring goblets of wine, making it strongly reminiscent of Norse Valhalla. Nessa's brother Oromë was a hunter and was arguably the second most warlike of the Valar after Tulkas, and together they tried to hunt down Melkor after the theft of the Silmarils. In early stages Tulkas and Nessa had a son named Telimektar, a strong warrior who was placed in the sky (the constellation Orion) to watch against Melkor. Tulkas and Nessa are also notable in that neither has any specifically named Maiar associated with them; there are just vague references to champions practicing in Tulkas' house and Nessa dancing with her maidens.

While they are both known for their speed and festive personalities, Tulkas and Nessa also have a sort of yin-yang relationship. Tulkas is a warrior who loves battle and physical activities and always eagerly supported proposals of the Valar going to war, thus playing an important role in the ongoing struggle against Melkor-Morgoth. Meanwhile Nessa, who was given elven names that mean "The Bride" and "The Lovely" or "The Beloved", was a supporter of peace, most notably seen when she supported the Hiding of Valinor from the elves following the Flight of the Noldor. Their marriage is similar to relationships between a war god and a love goddess in the mythologies of multiple cultures.

Tulkas is one of the Valar who don't have any siblings, along with Ulmo, Vairë, and Estë.

Tolkien's later writings state that Tulkas will again wrestle Melkor at the end of days and will play a major role in his defeat, although who wins isn't specified. It is said that Manwë and Melkor will also battle each other during this time, but that neither will slay each other. In Tolkien's early works, Eonwë will slay Melkor due to his love for Arien, who Melkor attempted to claim as a wife. In later writings it is said that Turin delivers the final blow that kills Melkor.

[alnilam-fr]

fair is the lily of the valley

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr@starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar@majestyrising @almaren-fr @intergalacticsock

The young minstrel had been walking for many miles, seeking out an inn where he might ply his skill. As he walked, he plucked at his mandolin, the notes trembling in the clear air. There were white flowers in the grass by the side of the dirt road, and here and there the land was dotted with white stone ruins.

“Fair is the rose that in my love’s garden grows, And fair is the lily of the valley, Bright is the light in the ruins’ domain, But my love is fairer than any.”

A cold wind blew out of the north, and he shivered and pulled his silk-lined cloak closer about his shoulders. Though the snow had not yet begun to fall, the days were growing ever shorter and the winter spirits would soon begin roaming the land. 

The sun was nearly set, and the minstrel squinted at the horizon, where he could see a forest rising between two hills. He quickened his pace, blowing a cloud of frosted breath in front of him.

“I’ll come to thee by the storm and sea, My life and my darling, I’ll come to thee across the sea, And I’ll make the Plateau by morning.”

“Hail,” said a voice, and he startled and nearly dropped his mandolin. A broad-shouldered Guardian had caught up to him as he walked, her shoulders draped in pale satin marked with heraldic roses and a rapier slung about her hips. “Do you know anything a bit...faster?”

The minstrel was surprised by her accent- a Fire Flight laborer’s accent if he’d ever heard one, at odds with the elegance of her attire. The Guardian quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh- of course,” he replied, and blew on the fingers of his plucking hand to warm them before picking out a few bright notes.

“It would be warmer, if you played happy songs,” she said when he paused, her voice rumbling in the curve of her throat. “Where are you wandering, minstrel?”

“My name is Denouement,” he told her. “I go to seek work in whatever town will take me.”

“And mine Baleen. My purpose is more or less the same. Do you think you will find a town to make camp in before...the long night?” Her voice carries a note of fear, and she rubs her thumb along the intricately worked hilt of her sword. 

Denouement shrugs. The wind tugs at his silky curls, its bite reminding him that soon, soon, soon the sun will set and will not rise for many days. Spirits walk the land during the night that does not end, some more benevolent than others, and most dragons cover the mirrors in their houses and hide themselves behind charms and salt circles.

“’Tis bad luck to be on the road on the days when the sun doesn’t rise,” warns Baleen. “Even now, there’s a feeling in the air that sets my spine crawling.” She shakes her head and hunches her shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Denouement begins to sing the most light-hearted and sprightly song he knows, his fingers dancing over the silver mandolin strings, and thus they came to the edge of the forest.

“Now some take delight in the carriages a-rolling, Others take delight in the hurling and the bowling; But me I take delight in the juice of the barley, And courting pretty women in the morning bright and early!”

Baleen chuckles as she lopes alongside the slender minstrel, not noticing the slightly ethereal ambiance of the birchwood forest. “Up ahead,” she says, pointing to where a wall of sleek marble can be seen through the trees. “Might as well stop by there and see whether they could put us up for the night.”

“Fine architecture,” comments her companion as they circle around to the great front gates. Spiralling gold is embossed into the doors, and the buttresses are decorated with leaves and vines carved of white stone. Stained glass glitters in many of the windows, gold and blue and red in the winter sunlight.

After a moment’s pause, Baleen walks through the gate and raps her knuckles on the door. “It’s quiet,” she says in a low voice. Denouement looks down at his mandolin and plucks a few notes of a winter carol.

Suddenly, the doors open with a draft of warm cinnamon-scented air. A Nocturne woman dressed in white stands in the candlelight, and Baleen at once sweeps a bow. “Hail, Lady,” she says. “My companion and I are seeking a place to spend the n-”

“Oh, do come in,” the woman says sweetly, stepping aside with a sweep of one slender arm. Her eyes are the color of summer sunlight, and to Denouement it looks as though there is light lying beneath her skin. “It gets so quiet here in the wintertime.”

Baleen glances back over her shoulder, and Denouement shrugs and steps inside. There are candles in every window, and it smells as though something is baking, somewhere in the house. The walls glitter with intricate designs in gold and pink, and the halls are lined with great mirrors reaching nearly to the floor.

“A fine court,” says Baleen, respectfully. “But surely you don’t live here all alone?”

“I take in whoever comes through,” the woman says over her shoulder as she leaves the room. A few moments later, she returns with a tea-tray and pours each of them a cup, curls of steam rising up around her hands. “But for now, I am alone. My name is Souhayla, Lady of the House of Alnilam. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Denouement’s second song is Whiskey in the Jar, and you can listen to a really excellent mandolin cover of the whole song here! His first song has no name, although I should write the full thing out sometime.

[vicegrips-fr]

I decided to split this post into two parts because this was getting long but, basically, this is just a little backstory and some lore updates for Dagna and Othello. The second part will contain more about the current timeline and changes that have been made, while this one is mostly the backstory bits. Just as a light warning there are unpleasant things mentioned, but nothing that I’d consider extreme.

@corpsejack-fr @majestyrising @fusefr @archaic-fr @jadedragons @deadwapiti-fr @webwing-alpha @almaren-fr @froststrix-fr @kattafr

_____________________________ Dagna and Othello, two of Mordecai’s priests, were unwavering in their devotion and belief in their leader. Like most who ended up living under Mordecai’s rule, they came to the Gorge after rumors spread about a Pearlcatcher with a gift, a blessing from the Plaguebringer.

Years before the Blight-Touched.....

Dagna was born the daughter of a well-to-do woman in a poor town out somewhere in the middle of the Abiding Boneyard. Her mother, the town’s priestess, raised her to be fiercely devoted to their diety, expecting her to take over the title of the town’s priestess one day and continue down the line.  It’s an honor, her mother would always say, but Dagna had her doubts about that. It wasn’t the worship that bothered her so much, it was the idea of being stuck in that town for the rest of her miserable life, same as her mother. 

Dagna’s father, however, was a mystery to her. There were a couple of times when she was a young girl that she’d dared to broach the subject with her mother, and everytime her mother would get this sad look on her face and tell her that it didn’t really matter. The second (and the last) time she’d tried to challenge that, her mother got mean. She did know one thing about her father without needing to ask her mother, though, and that was that she’d likely gotten her gift of giving and taking away pain from him, a gift which she kept a secret from her mother. ---------------------------------

In the same town lived Othello, son of the local blacksmith and he was just as devoted to Dagna as she was supposed to be to the Plaguebringer; Othello’s father, on the other hand, was devoted to no one and nothing besides his craft, and especially not the Plaguebringer. Not after Othello’s mother caught ill and passed away. As much as it had pained him to lose her, it wasn’t her passing that planted those bitter seeds of resentment, it was the funeral.

Even though she’d been a fierce fighter, helping to keep this town safe for years, the priestess hadn’t allowed her to be buried with her fellow warriors, seeing her body unfit to be laid to rest there as ‘her death had not been honorable’. Instead, she was buried in the nameless lot of dirt where all of their dead taken by disease are buried and forgotten.  Later that day, he and Othello had gone back there alone to mark her grave. “This ain’t right,” was all his father said as he’d jammed his mate’s sword deep into the churned up soil. The two of them stood there in silence a while longer, neither one of them able to look at the other and their hearts full of grief.

Of course, after this Othello’s father forbid him from seeing Dagna. Othello was furious, heartbroken, and grieving for his mother, but his love for Dagna never waned in the time they were kept apart. She wasn’t to blame for her mother’s death, and when he finally told his father this, the two of them argued well into the night. By the time they’d both yelled themselves hoarse and slammed their doors, Othello’s mind was made up- he and Dagna would start a new life together somewhere else if she would have him.

That same night Dagna decided she’d had enough as well. A plan had been formulating in her head over the last few weeks and she was ready to be rid of this town and out from under her mother’s thumb. She’d already packed her bag and was halfway out the window and on her way to ask Othello to come with her when her mother walked into the room. Dagna stared at her mother and her mother stared back, it wasn’t until she quickly tried to crawl the rest of the way out that her mother moved. Quick as a whip, her mother was on her and pulling her back inside by her hair and to the floor.  She tried to reason with her mother, she really did. Which was generous considering the things coming out of her mouth, nothing but venom and vinegar. And it’s not like she’d meant to kill her, it had all just happened so fast; her mother shouting at her when she moved to the door, her mother’s hands reaching out to grab her, a struggle; and the pained look on her mother’s face right before the sick sound of her skull cracking open on the corner of the dresser when Dagna shoved her back violently. Dagna doesn’t move, she’s barely even breathing. Her eyes are locked, unblinking, on her mother’s crumpled body. An alarmingly large amount of blood has pulled around her head and there is no rise and fall of her chest. Her mother is dead and it’s her fault. _________________________________________ Under cover of darkness, Othello manages to slip away and sneaks through Dagna’s window, a hand over her mouth to quiet her startled cry; but his hand quickly falls away when he sees the blood. Dagna tearfully explains what had happened and he proceeds to tell her about his plan too, how they could flee this town and be together in peace, and Dagna agrees. They’ll need a plan, he says, and Dagna informs him of the rumors she’s heard whispered around the shrines. People are talking about a strange clan of dragons putting down roots south of them in a place called Wormwood Gorge. _________________________________________

”Wormwood Gorge,” Dagna whispered, quietly putting the last of her things that had fallen out during the scuffle back into her bag. ”They say the one leadin’em is blessed by the Plaguebringer. That his wounds always heal, that even if you take an arm he’ll just grow it ba-” ”Dagna,” Othello hushed her softly, cupping a hand at the back of her slender neck. “Are you sure that’s where you want to go? Could be.... risky.” She nods and he sighs, ready to follow her into hell if she asked. “Alright then,” he says after a moment, glancing at the body not six feet away from them, “Let’s go. Quickly.” _________________________________________ Life in Wormwood Gorge..... Dagna and Othello did as they set out to do and found the Gorge. They were first greeted by the sight of a large blackened tree, the sharp branches devoid of leaves or fruit, bearing the weight of several bodies in place of either. Some hung higher than others, varying from skeletons picked clean by the buzzards to newly-dead faces, all swaying gently in the warm morning breeze. Othello grows anxious, but Dagna presses forward and he follows, swallowing his worry like a heavy stone. As it turns out, the leader of the Blight-Touched was, in fact, gifted, just like the rumors had said. He had welcomed them to join, delighted by Dagna’s talent for giving and taking away pain with a simple touch. Othello, on the other hand, had little more than the skills he’d been taught by his father at the forge. That had been good enough for Mordecai who saw value in having more smiths around; after all, more smithies meant more armor and weapons. When they’d arrived the Blight-Touched were not what they are now, they were little more than a band of warriors and lambs looking for a shepherd to guide them. Mordecai had made no real claim to be blessed by the Plaguebringer then, merely choosing not to correct the people who believed it to be so. Let them believe what they want to believe, he thought with the preacher Sawyer, his father, in mind.There was power that came with that belief and that was all that mattered, lie or truth. There weren’t any priests, in the beginning, that didn’t happen until after the arrival of Corthyra, a zealous spiral who came looking for a messiah and found Mordecai. It had been with his insistence, after seeing what Mordecai could do, that the priesthood was formed. Corthyra had kindly offered to be the first to bear the title, becoming the high priest, and Dagna had followed after. Othello was happy at the forge, at the very least glad to be free of the troubles of their old home. Sadly, an accident involving the rounding hammer and his hand brought his days as a smith to a close early. The bones never did set right and it was too difficult for him to grip the tools like he needed to.  With some convincing, Othello eventually joined the priesthood with her and had to learn to fit into a new role that he didn’t want. Corthyra made his skin crawl and he wondered if Dagna noticed how they were beginning to worship Mordecai as if he were the Plaguebringer herself. Still, despite that life was fine for a while in the Gorge. Mordecai and his band of warriors were hell-raisers, but no one would say that he was exactly cruel- not to his own, anyway- and they wouldn’t, not for a little while longer.

[adamantiiine-blog]

THE NATURE OF THE AINUR

PART TWO: AINURIN CULTURE AND HISTORY

II. Culture in Aman

Before the Coming of the Elves

The structure of Ainurin culture changed greatly when Aman was formed and the Eruhíni began to awaken. In Aman, each Vala or pair of Valar had their own lands, often with their own Halls to reside in. Their Maiar lived with them in their dwellings. In the early days of Aman, Mahanaxar was founded, and the Valar began to hold council against Melkor. It was in these years that Manwë was declared to be the ruler of the Valar and began to behave as such. This time also saw a hierarchy form, with the Aratar at the top and the lesser Maiar at the bottom. Melkor’s destruction of Almaren greatly damaged the mutual understanding and peace between all of the Ainur of Almaren, and the return of war drew them to form these ranks. Maiar began to take on traits of servants and messengers during this time, rather than mere students– though they continued to learn. The Ainur became a warlike culture, training in combat and creating weapons to use in battle.

The most notable difference in overall culture is found in the concept of respect. While in Almaren, all Ainur respected one another equally as individuals. After the founding of Aman and while Melkor remained a threat, Maiar in general came to respect Valar as authority figures. Though the relationship between a Maia and their master (along with their master’s spouse, if they have one) was still usually very comfortable, Maiar tended to be more wary around other Valar. This is because quite a few Maiar, who are in general far less powerful, were snatched away by Melkor during the destruction, which left them understandably more wary.

After the Coming of the Elves

More significant changes occurred after the Elves arrived in Aman. Most importantly, Ainurin culture and Elven culture collided, and each took on aspects of the other. The Ainur began to behave more like the Elves, and vice versa. The ruling structures of the Elves mimicked that of the Ainur. While the world was at peace, the tension and wariness faded, and relationships between Ainur, though still hierarchical, became much more relaxed and less wary. It was during this period of time that the Ainur truly began to behave as rulers. Though they created few laws on their own, they oversaw the doings of the Eldar within Aman. By far, though, the symbol of their ruling power in the Years of the Trees was the Mahanaxar.

Judgement in Mahanaxar

While there would be few trials held in Mahanaxar before the War of Wrath (Melkor’s being one of the only ones), they were still a significant part of culture. The accused would be placed within the center of the ring and questioned until sufficient information could be gathered. Others would be able to speak for the accused, should they gain permission to enter. The process lacked a formal structure, and could take anywhere from mere moments to years to decide upon an outcome. The judgement decided upon did not need to be unanimous between all Valar, but it did need to be approved by more than half and accepted by the others– should any Vala not accept the judgement decided upon, the trial would continue.

The process was similar for council matters. The councils often lasted much longer, and happened quite frequently, but did not involve passing judgement on an accused person, but rather determining how to handle a situation. The longer council meetings in Mahanaxar could last for decades.

Formal Ranking and Identification of Maiar

Shortly after the arrival of the Elves in Aman, the Maiar would be formally ranked. One Maia in each Vala’s service would be named chief of servants, though the title varied between Valar. Often this was the Maia with the greatest power, however, should the strongest not be aligned with the Thought and mood of their Vala, another could be chosen instead. The chief of servants works most closely with their Vala, and is in charge of delegating and monitoring the duties of their fellow Maiar should their Vala be busy. They are also the ones chosen, occasionally, to speak for their Vala should they not be able to be present in a situation. Oftentimes a second Maia will be chosen as a second-in-command to the chief of servants, with similar criteria applying. It isn’t uncommon for such pairs to be espoused.

Once the Elves arrived, in order to tell who served whom, most Maiar would have an identifier– three helix piercings on the right ear. The pattern and color of the hoops were unique to each Vala. Not all Maiar have the piercings, though it caught on quite quickly. The chief of servants would have an additional piercing, a silver hoop above the other three, and the second in command would have a gold hoop.

[cilil]

𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓵𝔂 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓧 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻

"Impatient, are we? Shouldn't you be all timid and ashamed, trying to flee before the evil Vala ravages you and steals away your innocence?" 

"Oh, if only he ravaged me already."

𖤐 Day 1 ~ Lust & Chastity 𖤐 Synopsis: Mairon seeks Melkor out to learn more about the carnal delights of their fánar. 𖤐 Featuring: Body worship, virginity, prep, bit of nipple play 𖤐 Warnings: Smut Also available on AO3

AN: Written for day 1 of @deadlysinsofangbang. Yes, three fics today X) hope you enjoy these (shorter) pieces as well! Fun fact: According to my writing app this fic is exactly 666 words.

"Ah – Melkor!"

Melkor stopped kissing his way down his chest and looked up at Mairon with an impish grin. 

"Impatient, are we? Shouldn't you be all timid and ashamed, trying to flee before the evil Vala ravages you and steals away your innocence?" 

"Oh, if only he ravaged me already," Mairon taunted him with feigned exasperation and artfully arched his back to put his nipples on full display, pierced by tiny golden hoops and hardening in the cool air of Arda's North. He had no intentions of returning to Almaren pure and untouched, he wanted to bask in the full force of the Dark Vala's desire and enjoy the forbidden pleasures he had been promised during their many secret encounters. 

Melkor laughed and lowered his head to attack the sensitive flesh so shamelessly bared to him with his lips, teeth and tongue, and soon he had the Maia moaning and squirming underneath him. The piercings gave him a convenient way to tug and tease to his heart's content, and Mairon rolled his hips forward as his cock began to harden, causing the Vala to deliberately place his knee between his legs so he could grind on it.

"You should be careful what you wish for," he teased. "Or are you indeed as eager and insatiable as you claim?" 

"I meant what I said," Mairon hissed through gritted teeth while he continued to move his hips. "Will you take me now or will you keep toying with me and wasting my time?" 

"Patience, little flame. If I am to be your first, should we not savour this? And besides..." Melkor placed tender, almost chaste kisses on his collarbones and the middle of his heaving chest. "Should I not admire your beauty while I do as you ask?" 

His words touched something soft and vulnerable within Mairon's ëala. He had, for all his genuine curiosity and desire, attempted to steel his heart and mind for this encounter and sternly reminded himself not to seem weak or insecure, to simply take what the Dark Vala offered and disappear into the night after. Cautious and shrewd as he was, he had assumed Melkor would be merely interested in yet another conquest of a lesser spirit that he deemed worthy of his attention; but now things seemed different and his resolve began to crumble. 

Could it be that Melkor cared more than he had initially assumed? 

Mairon leaned back and enjoyed the sensation of featherlight kisses mapping out his entire fána, down his torso and his legs, tracing the curves of his muscles and the arch of his feet, exploring his hands, his arms, his shoulders, down once again after turning him onto his stomach, until, finally, Melkor spread his legs and began to lick and kiss his hole. 

All tension had disappeared from Mairon's fána by then, and the process of preparing him was almost painless despite the novelty of it all. So far he had only had his own fingers and a few secretly forged toys to penetrate himself with, but this was so much better. His nails dug deep furrows in the ground underneath him while Melkor opened him up, and when his fingers were withdrawn and his hole left empty, Mairon expected to be taken without further delay – only for the Vala to surprise him when he was lifted and placed on his back once again. 

Melkor looked down at him with half-lidded eyes, his own arousal evident. "I want to see you while I make you mine," he purred. 

"I shall allow it, but only if you don't make me wait any longer." 

"Don't you worry, little flame..." 

Mairon's lips fell open in a soundless moan when the Vala moved his hips and something large, hard and hot entered him, stretching and filling him completely. Melkor leaned forward to enjoy watching his face contort in pain and pleasure alike, and one of his hands found Mairon's, squeezing it lovingly. 

"I shall not make you wait."

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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[cilil]

For the kiss ask: 33, for Sauron/Eönwë? 🥺

Author's Note: Of course! I had so much fun writing this <3 Prompt list

Characters: Mairon/Eönwë Synopsis: Eönwë has been oblivious to his flirting so far. Mairon decides to take matters into his own hands. Set during the Almaren days Warnings: /

"I feel like I may have done something to displease you." 

The statement causes Mairon to briefly stop in his tracks and look up at Eönwë. He's currently in the process of tending to the herald's sword, sharpening the blade and checking for any damage it may have sustained in battle, yet another routine visit, another everyday interaction – until now. 

Interesting...

Eönwë appears to be worried, his head slightly cocked to the side in a manner reminiscent of a bird, and it occurs to Mairon that he must've spent some time pondering this question. He can't decide whether he should find the other Maia's clueless concern annoying or endearing, yet he is certain about one thing: With his wide cerulean eyes, windswept pale blonde locks and soft lips, Eönwë looks too adorable and handsome for his own good. 

Mairon lowers his gaze and continues his work without another word, fully intending to make him wait for his answer. He has attempted to flirt with Eönwë a couple of times now, with lingering touches, meaningful glances and well-placed compliments, yet Almaren's hero hasn't caught on so far, accepting his advances with guileless smiles and warm but polite gestures. 

As soon as he's done sharpening the sword, Mairon gets up from his seat, picks it up and approaches Eönwë whose eyes remain glued on his form with increasing worry. He stands directly in front of him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, and rewards his patience by pressing the sword into his hand and his lips against his simultaneously. 

Eönwë freezes for a second, then his fingers wrap around the hilt reflexively, intertwining with the other Maia's in the process, and he kisses back, meeting the force of Mairon's kiss with hesitant yet earnest tenderness. 

"I... take it I have not upset you?" he asks once they part. 

"You have not, though your obliviousness is trying my patience." Despite his words, a pleased smirk appears on Mairon's lips. "Do you know now what I want or must I kiss you again?"

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose@eunoiaastralwings@i-did-not-mean-to@melkors-defense-attorney@singleteapot @wandererindreams

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

How dare you make RADAGAST exactly the kind of man I fall desperately in love with????

HOW DARE YOU!!!!

I love flustered, shy, fleeing babies....I curse you, Cílil!!!! How can you do this to me?

New ship dropped, right onto my head....I am crying....

M - Mountains

Characters: Aiwendil (Radagast) & Curumo (Saruman)

Synopsis: Aiwendil disturbs visits Curumo while he's working.

Warnings: /

Drabble

"What do you want?"

Curumo gives Aiwendil a strict look. Aulë tasked him with repairing a mountain near Almaren, yet it seems a certain Maia has other ideas. 

"Shouldn't you be gathering plants?" 

Aiwendil looks up at him with his big brown eyes, fidgeting with the bag he's holding. He appears to be gathering his courage, then suddenly hands him a flower. 

"For you." 

Curumo reflexively accepts, yet before he can say anything in response, Aiwendil vanishes like a startled rabbit. 

Shaking his head, he turns back to the mountain. He may be a fool, but a rather adorable one.

taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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