#the rings of power fanfiction

[queers-gambit]

Shadows of the Past

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

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

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

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

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

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

"Then why enlist you, too?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Commander, I must protest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forward, you marched.

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

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

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daenor! NO!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you going?"

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

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

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

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're not - "

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

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

"Elrond - "

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

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

"You're hurt."

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

"I'm not coddling you - "

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

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

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

"For now."

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

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

You nodded, "You sure?"

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

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

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

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

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

"Time is something we don't have."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

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

"Hush, do not - "

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

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

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[wordbunch]

healer's healer [Elrond x reader]

a/n: WELL! look at that. the people want ROP Elrond and of course I give them Elrond ♡ it's short but bear with me - I haven't done creative writing in ages and I feel very rusty, but he deserves good things. 🥹

I didn't watch the S2 trailer bc I never do that, but I did see screenshots of baby El after some battle 😭😭😭 so this vaguely goes off of that. Enjoy! 💞

Your breath hitched in your throat as you hurried down the spiraling staircase from your chambers, having noticed a familiar (and beloved) figure on the horizon. Though he was approaching uncharacteristically slowly, without mistake it was your spouse in the distance, returning from his latest task along with his companions. As fast as your legs carried you, you ran out to meet them - well, Elrond - and your heart clenched at his disheveled and evidently injured state. Immediately you scurried to the horse he was on, all drawn into himself and with scars etched into his handsome face.

“Meleth nín,” you breathed out, helping him down as gently as you could muster. Elrond clung onto you as soon as you came in contact, as he held one arm protectively over his middle.

“Beloved,” he replied, fatigue dripping from his words. “I have returned to you… as promised.” His attempt at a soft smile turned into a painful grimace as you slowly walked to somewhere he could at least sit down comfortably. You helped lower him onto the nearest settee you could find and began anxiously examining his wounded form.

“I knew you would keep your promise, always,” you whispered to him, cradling his face in your hands with a feathery touch. The way he was looking at you was shaking you to the bone - in his storm-colored eyes you could see an echo of many a thing he had seen, found, and been through, and you could all but hear your heart crack. “Breathe,” you attempted to soothe him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he winced, meeting your eyes once again, shakily reaching for your hand laid across his scarred cheek. It was easy to notice his breaths were heavy and uneven. “I love you,” he added hastily, stopping your thoughts in their tracks, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get many more chances to lavish you in his feelings. “I-I did not know whether… whether I would have another opportunity t-to… tell you that… one more time.”

“My brightest star,” you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his and reveling in his presence after the agonizing weeks of uncertainty. Elrond soaked in your warmth and softly nudged his nose against yours. “We will not speak of such things, ever. You are home now, you are safe, and I am here.  We are going to get you healed, I promise. Neither of us is going anywhere, ever” 

“Until the whole Middle-earth is no more than a distant memory,” he quietly echoed the vows you had exchanged quite a few moons ago. You were hoping you could actually sense, and not that you were just deceiving yourself, that he was beginning to feel more at ease (if not less in pain) only through being in your arms once again.

“Meleth nín,” you inched back only slightly to look at his state, “do you think you could be strong enough to get up with me and walk to our chambers? I will hold you the whole time,” you squeezed his chilly hands in encouragement, eliciting a subtle nod from your spouse. “Then we will make you comfortable, warm, and I will do everything in my power to heal you. From the things you are able to tell me, just as much as from the things you cannot speak of yet.”

Immediately his arm was around your shoulders as he reluctantly rose to his feet. You heard him breathe through his teeth, but you knew he could do it. He was as strong as he was kind, and you were more than willing to bring back his joyous laugh and twinkling eyes.

“How strong have you gotten in these weeks, my dove,” he quipped, doing his best to lighten the somber atmosphere. “I have got a true elven warrior by my side.”

“I have only tried to match you, I admit.”

♡

I should try to somehow revamp my taglist too :/

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt ii

pairing: halbrand/sauron x reader; there will be two love triangles in the future

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tag: dark romance, slow burn, sauron is Stressed™️ , sauron is so horny he contemplates murder, minor sex mention, idk what else to tag or warn

Notes: 24 hours later I already have part 2 done. I was going to have up until galadriel joins the raft for part 2 but I have a lot of ideas so I'm splitting them up. I am also stretching the time during season 1, like instead of being a couple months it's gonna be about a year because it's my fic and I can do that. Saurons pov is all over the place bc he is all over the place and yeah. Feed back always welcome and lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Oh and everything was still done on my phone so sorry if it's weird.

Series Masterlist

It was all a blur for you. You were woken from sleep by the creature attacking the ship and in the flurry of rushing water, screams, and the sound of breaking wood. You had found a pair of arms around your waist. You held your breath and clamped your eyes shut, if you were to die you didn't want your last memory on this Earth to be of the ship's wreckage and the corpses of your traveling companions floating under the water. These fears disappeared as you broke to the surface of the sea with the arms around your waist still holding you securely. You gasped and filled your lungs with air, wet hair obstructing your view, but you could see the familiar face of your savior.

“Halbrand?” You coughed.

He hummed a response, and you could feel the sound reverberate in his chest. It was comforting, the feeling of his strong arms and solid chest. Despite the cold of the waters, his body was abnormally warm, and you found yourself pressing into him for more of that heat.

“There's a raft not far. I think there's another survivor or two aboard it.” He spoke, securing one arm tightly around your body as he used his other to move through the water.

You squinted and could see what you suspected to be the raft he spoke of, but it was rather far for him to swim carrying you “I can swim. I do not wish you to have to carry me all that way through the water.”

“No,” he responded firmly. “There is some terrible beast who just destroyed our ship. I will not allow you to go out on your own in the water.”

“But then we could both die if it finds us.”

Halbrand looked down at you, looking into your eyes as he spoke. “In that case, my conscience will be clear because I will be dead. I can already see the arguments forming on your tongue, and the answer is still no.”

He gave you a pointed look at which you nodded, “Thank you. Now hold on, sweet one.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, closing your eyes. This has been quite the journey for you. You missed home, but you longed for a new start, a new place where your family's reputation didn't loom over you, and you weren't regarded with suspicion at every turn. You couldn't allow yourself to think this was it, that you'd die like this at the sea. You'd been through too much.

You didn't know if it had been 15 minutes or 3 hours when you heard a voice call out your name from the raft, the woman who'd slept across from you. You had only introduced yourselves and not talked much at all, but it was still a familiar voice.

“Here, help her up,” Halbrand called to one of the men as he hoisted you as best he could on to the raft. “There you go, sweet one.”

You pulled yourself up on the raft, and almost instantly, you found yourself falling asleep on the wood. Exhaustion took you after the adrenaline drop of finally being out of the water. You were swept into sleeps embrace as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

~

You awoke, rubbing the sleep out from your eyes and looking around you. The horrors of that night replayed in your mind, but then you remembered Halbrand. You sat up and noticed that the raft was considerably larger, different pieces of driftwood tied together, and makeshift sails set up. There were also more survivors than last night, but it was a considerably small amount. Your eyes roamed the passengers, but you couldn't find the one you sought.

“Your awareness of your surroundings is incredibly lacking.”

You startled at the sound of his deep voice, causing him to chuckle. He had been lying down and sat up as you turned to look at him. “Glad you woke, sweet one. If you'd slept much longer, I'm sure they'd try to add you to our rations.”

“There's rations?” You asked eagerly, unable to ignore the emptiness in your belly.

Halbrand nodded, “There is. He”- he motioned to an older man on the other side of the raft - “didn't want to give you any because you were sleeping, but I was able to do some convincing.” He handed you a chunk of bread and a small portion of dried meat.

You gave him your thanks, and as you grabbed it, you noticed his knuckles were bloodied. A quick glance at the old man, who you now noticed was sporting a bruise and a few cuts under his eye, gave you the answers you needed.

“Tell me you didn't strike an old man for this?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing the bread and meat further into your chest. “If I tell you he fell upon my fist, will you eat it? How I came about this matters not. What matters is you will not last if you do not eat.”

You sighed, feeling guilty but taking a bit nonetheless. The feeling of the bread and dried meat hitting your barren stomach was enough to make you moan softly. Halbrand chuckled, watching you and leaning against one of the makeshift masts.

“Thank you. For the food and for saving me. I don't know how to express my gratitude for all you've done for me,” you swallowed and wet your lips. “Though I must admit I'm greatly confused as to why.”

You looked over at him, brow furrowed as you awaited an answer.

“Because you are fair of face. I can not imagine the despair I'd fall into if I was stuck on a raft with nothing but them to look at,” he motioned to other inhabitants, “it would be quite bleak indeed.”

You couldn't help the blush that formed on the bridge of your nose and traveled across your cheeks. Despite this, you still shook your head. “There is no need to be rude or dishonest. I simply ask for the truth.”

“I admit that was rude, but it was anything but dishonest. You are beautiful, and I quite like looking at you,” his eyes noticed your blush, and it caused him to smirk - if only he knew of the butterflies forming in your stomach at his affirmation.

“Though,” he continued, “you are right. That is not the reason I saved you. It's only an added benefit. When I met you on the ship, there had been many that had complained that there was not enough notice. That I would deplete the rations and that they would have to recalculate everything. But you brought me extra soup, and it wasn't a small portion either. You brought it because you knew I had been on my own and assumed I'd been without food. You had no selfish intention. You were simply kind to a stranger because you felt it was the right thing to do. There is not enough of that in the world, and humanity can not bear to lose someone like you who is kind and good for no other purpose than that it is right.”

“Oh,” your voice was small, and your entire face burned bright red at his compliments.

“I would tell you more, but I'm afraid if I do, you may burst into flames.”

~

The waves rocked the raft gently, the previous night it had lulled you into a nice, deep sleep but there's only so much to do on a raft in the middle of nowhere and you had spent the majority of that time asleep. Your eyes watched the stars, feeling lucky that the sky was full of them and that the moon shone bright. The thought of endless darkness, especially knowing what was out there hunting in the ocean depths, was a terrifying thought. The sound of the others snores mixed with the sounds of the waves.

There was only one other who was still awake. Halbrand was busy tightening the ropes to secure the pieces of the raft together. You had noticed he did not sleep much. You had been on the raft for 3 nights and two days, and most of that time was spent with him. Though there wasn't much conversation, you seemed to be the only one on the raft he wasn't annoyed with. You caught him looking at you at times, which made you think he really did mean what he said on that first day.

“Still looking for hope in the stars, sweet one?” Halbrand teased with a smirk as he walked to where she sat and sat down next to her so close that their legs touched.

“Have you forgotten my name? You seem to only refer to me as ‘sweet one’.” You asked, tearing your eyes from the stars to look at him.

He rolled his eyes, your name rolling from his tongue. “Do you not like my nickname?”

“It is fine. I was just curious, and I wasn't quite sure why.” You looked up at him as you awaited his answer.

“Because you're sweet. Hence, sweet one.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You're quite the flirt, Halbrand.”

“Only with you, sweet one.” He playfully pushed his shoulder into yours, and he sat there with you, looking up at the stars.

You enjoyed the moment. The heat from his body and the solid feeling of him next to you brought contentment. You wondered if it was meaningless flirtations or if he could mean all of it. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You were stranded on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Any romantic feelings you may be growing for him were unimportant in the face of that fact.

You looked over at him, and your eyes trailed down to the relic that hung from his neck. You'd noticed it before but had never thought to ask about it. Your fingers gently reached for it so you could get a better look.

“What is this?” You tilted your head, holding it in your palm.

“Have you seen it before?” His voice was soft, but his brown eyes watched your face intently.

You shook your head in answer.

“It's the heraldry of my family. I only asked if you'd seen it because it has been almost an age since we used it. I can't imagine any family in the Southlands has used heraldry in some time.”

You turned it over in your palm, examining it further. “Why do you carry it?”

He wet his lips, gently taking it from your fingers and looking at it himself. “It's a reminder, a grim one, that our fates are never certain and that fortune can change for anyone. We've seen that here,” he motioned around them.

“Is it a grim reminder? I find it quite hopeful. No matter what, nothing is certain, and nothing lasts forever. There may be evil, and there may be terribly dark times, but those times do not last forever. There is also good. Also times of wonder and prosperity.”

He laughed, smiling as he looked at you. “Of course, that is what you would say. Ever the light and so full of hope.”

~

It was not long after this that you had fallen asleep. He still sat next to you awake as ever. His mind reeling and racing with millions of thoughts, the conflict within him felt as though it would rip right through him. He wanted control and order. It was the only way in which this world could know peace. He also wanted revenge on Adar, on the orcs who attempted to kill him.

But he remembered Morgoth. He remembered his former master and the chase for power that ended in his utter destruction. Even before then, Morgoth had become enslaved to the power he held and the power he craved. That was a fate that Sauron did not wish to share. He did not want to lose control for the sake of power, but he would never be quenched without having power. He could not have both.

Then there was you. He had not expected you, and he was finding himself enthralled with you. He could not understand you or the effect you had on him. A human, of all creatures, making him question all he knew to be true. He had not lusted for the pleasures of the flesh in thousands upon thousands of years and it was never for a human but when your eyes gazed up at him through your lashes or when he saw the smile stretch across your lips and the dimples that followed, it made it impossible not to imagine how those same eyes would look gazing up at him as you kneel at his feet or how those lips would look parted in ecstasy. His thoughts were plagued with the idea of taking you, tasting you, and utterly corrupting you.

It was all incredibly inconvenient.

This wasn't part of the plan and if it was just lust that plagued him, perhaps he could drown you and be done with it but the infatuation with understanding you and your motives and how you became this way stopped his hand. And the damn warmth that radiated from you that reminded him of the home he could never return to. With you curled into his side, he could close his eyes and imagine a time before he was corrupted. It made him wonder if he truly was past all redemption.

When those thoughts dared make themselves known, he'd imagine you looking up at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cock shoved down your throat.

His eyes drifted toward the water. It wouldn't be hard. He's so much stronger than you. He could handle any resistance as he pushed you under the waves, and then his mind would be free of those thoughts. But then he looked at you, and a million unanswered questions filled his mind. He knew if he killed you, they would remain unanswered and would plague him forever.

He cursed under his breath and watched as you slept. The choir of a million thoughts did not stop, and he briefly wondered if you would be his undoing.

previous next

[the-fiction-witch]

You Don't Know What You're Asking For

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I must do what my father commands of me"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she gasped her lips parted,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yiska-h]

The Dark Lord and the Queen - The Rings of Power

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

A Light in Dark Places - Chapter Two: Adar Meets Sauron’s Other Ex

Alternate Title: We Really Need to Get Adar A Boyfriend

Summary: Adar wasn’t expecting his son, Glug, to bring him the fallen lord of Eregion. Now he must decide how best to use Celebrimbor to his advantage while ignoring the rush of long suppressed memories and forgotten emotions triggered by the Elf Lord’s own relationship with Sauron.

EDIT: Here's a link to chapter 1:

Tagging: @adventurepunks @angel-astre @eowyn7023 @plotdesigner @illegalcerebral

Adar forced himself to remain an unbending, unaffected fixture on the front line. His children needed to see him as they marched to their deaths and he needed to acknowledge the ones he sacrificed for Sauron’s downfall. He knew the name of every Uruk as they marched by, remembered their first steps, their first set of armor, their endless cries of pain as Morgoth and Mairon shaped them into unloved but not unloving creatures. No, despite the worst of Morgoth’s designs, love still existed in their shattered hearts, even if it was a love unrecognized by Elf, Dwarf, Man, or Valar. The world’s disdain for the familial love that bound every Uruk in this camp made it all the more precious. Maybe the most precious thing in all of Middle-Earth.

He was willing to sacrifice it all to end the last remaining architect of their fallen condition. Better to kill all his children by himself than see them enslaved to Sauron once more. Was that not true love?

He inhaled and forced his face to adopt his determined facade. His children trusted him to do what was best for them. He could not shatter their trust with even a hint of doubt. He had always been the battered but unbreakable defensive wall they could shelter behind as the world threw its worst at them. A being that did not doubt, that did not hesitate, that did not mourn what had to be sacrificed for his children’s safety and happiness.

“Lord Father?”

Adar glanced at Uzog, the cautious archer with a metal prosthetic hand like their father.

“Yes, my child?”

“Glug brought back a prisoner when he shouldn’t have. A golden haired elf.”

Lady Galadriel.

Galadriel had escaped only a day ago and, while he assumed she would remain near the battlefield, he had not expected her to be recaptured so easily. Then again, Glug was growing into a capable Uruk commander.

“The Elf is as bloody as a warg’s breakfast, Adar. He is as dark as the one you hunt.”

This did not sound like Galadriel, unless Sauron found her first, although Adar doubted he would let her go if that was true. Galadriel was many things, but she wasn’t stealthy enough to escape Sauron’s grasp unless he willed it. Nor could Sauron expect Galadriel to return to Adar considering the last time Sauron saw them together, Galadriel had threatened to kill all of his children in front of him.

“What game are you playing, Gorthaur,” Adar muttered to himself in Black Speech.

He commanded Uzog to take him to Glug and this strange prisoner. They rushed through marching ranks of proud and shouting Uruks. War was the one thing they knew how to do better than anyone. War was the one thing Adar swore they would never have to indulge in again, once they created their homeland. Was it not Morgoth’s and Sauron’s nature to twist and break all promises and was he not their child?

Uzog led Adar to the clearing in front of his own tent where several Uruks gathered together around Glug and his prisoner. Before he could properly identify the elf, they ran straight into him. Adar grabbed the Elf’s arms to prevent them from falling and he was bewildered to see that not only were they not Galadriel, but for a moment he thought he was looking into the face of Feanor himself.

Bloody, defiant, on the verge of losing his mind, but also warmer, older, handsomer, and wilder. Not the wilderness of a trapped and starving wolf. No, it was one of a trained falcon. Domesticated and loyal until someone awoke its deepest instincts and then it became overwhelmed by its desire to fly, hunt, and kill.

There was a familiar darkness to this Elf. One that passed by unnoticed until it was already worming its way into his mind and soul. A darkness and eternal fire that led to the Oath of Feanor and to the rise of Morgoth and Sauron. But it was not of the Elf, this bloody and battered Elf who even now seemed on the verge of running away. It was around the Elf, a part of the Elf, but not an integral part, not a natural part given by the Valar. A part that had consumed Adar and his children whole except for the faint, struggling spark that kept them united. He knew this was the work of Sauron, but he could not call this Elf a servant of Sauron nor a servant of the Valar. More like Galadriel, a being caught between the two. An almost kindred spirit if Adar dared to call an Elf this beautiful kin.

The Elf was filthy and bloody, hardly something he expected from a citizen of Eregion, which he was judging from the holly designs on his robes. Tear streaks cut through the dirt on his round cheeks and his wrinkles, not common for Elves, betrayed a life of unrecoverable sorrow and pain. His curly golden hair did not shine like Galadriel’s nor was it combed in any manner expected from an Elf, even one in combat, but Adar liked this Elf’s stronger tones of gold and undertones of brown better. Adar met the startled Elf’s gaze and caught the light of the two trees in his hazel eyes. Galadriel was the only other Elf familiar to Adar who carried their light and Adar found this Elf’s eyes as enchanting as hers.

“Who is he and why did you bring him here?” Adar asked Glug in Black Speech.

Logic caught up with memory and he knew this couldn’t be Feanor, so who was he? All of Feanor’s sons were dead or missing. Although didn’t one have a son? It wasn’t easy nor desirable to purposely recall memories from the First Age. Yes, there was a son. So similar and yet so different from the father and the grandfather.

“This elf has something of Sauron’s,” Glug explained. “I felt a dark presence.”

At this, the Elf broke down sobbing, catching Adar off guard, a strange feeling of discomfort creeping up his spine. Even the other Uruks shifted uncomfortably and some half glanced away. How long had it been since any of them had shed a tear? Even Uruk babies stopped crying after their first year.

“Strange is the servant of Sauron who remembers how to cry,” Adar gently reproached the Elf.

It was as if he had slapped the Elf back to his senses. He stepped from Adar’s grasp and stubbornly wiped his tears away, spreading blood across his cheeks in the process and Adar noticed a missing thumb. The Elf stood tall, like Feanor himself stood when insulted and he snapped back, “I may have been a willing fool for the Great Deceiver once, but no more! Unlike you, I have escaped from his grasp.”

“Not very far, if we willingly served Sauron,” Adar replied and the Elf’s face twitched in confusion. “I assure you, you won’t find a single friend of Sauron’s in our company for we are his greatest foes.”

“Then why serve his purposes by attacking Eregion?”

The Uruks grumbled and shifted threateningly, but Adar gestured for restraint.

“We serve no one’s purpose, but our own,” Adar growled, noticing Glug’s shifting expression.

His son never believed in the assault on Eregion and Adar knew others agreed with him.

“We attack Eregion because they warmly welcomed Sauron into their city and set him up as a king. The people of Eregion are nothing more than his slaves who willingly protect him from my children.”

The Feanorian fire flashed in the Elf’s eyes and he puffed his chest as he stood eye to eye with Adar, pointing at the Uruk Lord.

“You are as great a deceiver as your former master. You murder the innocent and call them guilty to justify your actions. The people of Eregion did not welcome nor do they serve the Dark Lord. They were betrayed, betrayed by their lord who should have known better.”

The Elf’s anger grew, but his stature diminished.

“By their lord who knew better, but wanted what he wanted, even if it was something he never deserved,” the Elf continued, his own bitterness and hatred sharp enough to wound Sauron himself. “And so he accepted a poisoned gift and loved a being incapable of anything but malice and deceit and in doing so, condemned his people.”

The Elf defiantly and desperately met Adar’s gaze and said, “The fault is mine for I am Celebrimbor, the former lord of Eregion, fallen consort of the Great Deceiver, and the only servant who must pay for the Dark Lord’s crimes.”

Adar’s face softened and he was once more chained to a mountain cliff, abandoned and forgotten, the pouring rain chilling his very bone marrow, and he called into the wind and rain for death. Instead, a golden light that burnt his very skin appeared and took the face of a fiery haired Elf with cheekbones as sharp as Caradhras and flaming eyes that promised to consume one’s fea in the utmost pleasurable ways. Promises of children, of power, and of wine were exchanged and Adar drank them all, deeply, fervently, deliriously.

He instinctively rested a hand on Celebrimbor’s shoulder, and softly said in Quenya, “He is terrible in his beauty, isn’t he?”

“The most terrible and the most beautiful,” Celebrimbor replied in Quenya, his harsh features softening as well.

“Lord Father,” Glug urgently interrupted and Adar remembered his place.

He stepped back and ordered a pair of Uruks to take Celebrimbor to the tent they prepared for Galadriel and ensure he couldn’t escape. The fallen Elf argued and resisted, but it was obvious he was exhausted from his escape and Adar’s children were bred for kidnapping and war.

This would be the second Feanor to escape Sauron’s grasp. The Dark Lord’s wrath would be swift and severe.

“Lord Father, should we not call back the assault?” Glug said.

“Sauron is still in the city.”

“Yes, but we do not have the Elven rings and if the strange Elf contains something Sauron wants–”

“Continues the assault as planned,” Adar snapped, Glug flinching at his tone. “I must question the Elf further.”

“But the Elf said Sauron wants–”

“Continue the assault, Glug,” Adar commanded and marched to his tent, despite feeling unprepared to face Sauron’s latest victim.

Adar entered his tent and ordered his guards to leave him alone with Celebrimbor. They hesitated, but knew not to question him in his current mood. The golden haired Elf was chained to the same chair Galadriel used only a day ago, the dinner table void of any food.

“Please, you must call off the assault,” Celebrimbor begged. “You cannot defeat the Great Deceiver through strength alone. Surely, you know this.”

“I know Sauron has many needs, the first of which is allies,” said Adar. “Was that why he came to you? To spread his influence?”

“What does it matter if you can’t defeat him?”

“Sauron is weakest when he’s isolated. We’ve neutralized whatever following he gained in Eregion,” said Adar and Celebrimbor’s face flinched with rage and sorrow. “But he’s like a rat. He always looks for a new place and people he can infest.”

Celebrimbor hesitated before admitting, “He briefly treated with the dwarves in Khazad-dum through me, but I doubt he will flee there.”

The Elf squeezed the pouch clenched in his right hand and Adar demanded, “Give it to me.”

Celebrimbor struggled against his bonds, almost tipping over his chair in the process. Adar caught him by the chin and said, “I’d rather avoid further damage to your handsome features.”

Celebrimbor stiffened at his touch, a mix of terror and surprise crossed his dirt and blood smeared face. The blood dashed across his cheek bones was reminiscent of war paint favored by some of his children. His skin was hot to the touch, as if the fires of Eregion’s furnace formed his core. Even with the dirt and the blood and the sweat and tears, he was beautiful. The light of Valinor still within him, like all Elves who crossed the sea.

Adar’s hand traveled up his cheek, caressing the weathered skin, a thumb tracing the wrinkles that branched from the corner of his eyeas. Celebrimbor inhaled sharply and pulled his head away and Adar dropped his hand at the same rate his face fell. Marion used to comfort him the same way after the worst of Morgoth’s punishments. Of course he would use the same trick for his latest toy.

Adar turned away sharply and took two steps towards the barren table, his hand finding his hilt and squeezing it to soothe his fluttering nerves. Not even Galadriel with her own special relationship with Sauron and her own embodiment of Valinor brought back so many memories and long lost emotions.

“Does it surprise you that a Uruk would mimic his former master’s acts of false affection?” He demanded, although he wasn’t sure the true target of his sudden rage and embarrassment.

“He spoke to me,” Celebrimbor softly began, wrestling with each word as if Adar was dragging each syllable out from him. “He spoke of Morgoth and their…their “game” is what he called it.”

Adar barked a laugh and glanced at Celebrimbor with dark amusement.

“I’m sure he spared no details, reveling in his ability to withstand the worst of Morgoth’s tortures and humiliations.”

“For a moment, I…I pitied him.”

Adar whirled around and Celebrimbor shot him a desperate and despairing half grimace.

“Pitied Sauron?”

“For a moment he was just another victim of Morgoth’s, no different from my own uncle, Maedhros. Often I would look into my uncle’s eyes and see nothing but hollowness. He had the same look, only for a flicker of a second, and then it was gone, replaced by the same ravenous hunger that drove Morgoth’s darkness. All the pity in the world cannot call him back.”

“Would you?” Adar asked softly in Quenya.

“Wouldn’t you?” Celebrimbor replied.

Adar had not known fear like this since he held Morgoth’s crown in his hand, about to kill Sauron with it. He recognized Sauron’s hold on Galadriel and used it to his advantage, but that had been different from this. Galadriel was still fighting the depth of Sauron’s hold over her. Still stubbornly believing she had a choice when around him, but Celebrimbor…Sauron shattered him from the inside out. Whatever Sauron needed Galadriel for, he needed her still whole but cracking, but Celebrimbor had to be broken and mended and broken and mended over and over and over again. As if Sauron wanted no one to benefit from his abilities after he was done with the Elf. Maybe Sauron even meant to keep him, a pet to honor the start of his new reign as dark lord of Middle-Earth.

“What did he offer you?” Adar asked, still speaking in Quenya.

Another painful half grimace and Celebrimbor said, “The opportunity to create a legacy that would overshadow my grandfather’s.”

“You do not need him for that.”

Celebrimbor’s face twitched and it took several seconds before he seemingly regained control over his voice, “What did he offer you?”

“Children,” said Adar with a half smile of his own.

Celebrimbor glanced towards the entrance of the tent.

“Then for the sake of your children, you must let me go. He will come for me and will slay any who stand in his way.”

Yes, the pouch. The very thing that brought Sauron’s dark presence into his tent. Something solid to focus on instead of whatever had passed between him and Celebrimbor during the last few minutes.

“What is in the pouch?”

Celebrimbor hung his head in shame, once more wrestling for words, but Adar didn’t have time or patience or ability to wait. Better to act out on his sudden confusion and anxiety, even though he often scolded his children for such behavior.

He wrestled the pouch from Celebrimbor’s clenched fist and Sauron’s flaming, burning, gorgeous form surrounded him, his soft, coaxing voice promising power renewed, the entirety of Middle-Earth for his beloved children, and Mairon’s love regained. Flames licked at his scarred and beaten skin once more and Adar closed his eyes to hold back his tears. How he missed this incredible, painful glory and love.

Pain. Something heavy landed on his chest. Was he on the ground? Adar blinked and stiffened as he realized his own lips were mere inches away from Celebrimbor’s, who seemed as startled as he was. The Elf must have tried to take the pouch back. His hand with the missing thumb had slipped out of his chains and Adar mentally scolded him for not noticing that. However, it must have been too painful for Celebrimbor to use or rest on for it laid sprawled out above Adar’s head. The Elf’s other hand was still chained to the chair, which was lying across Celebrimbor’s legs. Yes, it must have tripped him and now he pinned Adar down with nothing more than the weight of his own body, the Elf’s chest pressed against his own armored chest.

The Elf’s weight was strangely soothing. The same kind of soothing he felt when Galadriel held him while pointing a knife to his throat. How long had it been since he felt another’s touch? Surely before Morgoth’s fall. How long had he hungered for something that could never be found until this very moment revealed it was nothing more than knowing someone else truly existed in a physical form he could touch and feel. That the world was more than a non-existent grey, full of sacrifice and loss and even his children were nothing but specters in a dying world.

How expressive Celebrimbor was. Something he had not expected from Feanor’s heirs. His round and handsome face revealed the clashing thoughts that raced through his mind: confusion, uncertainty, embarrassment, fear, planning a new escape attempt. How Adar wanted to run his thumb across Celebrimor’s chapped and split lips before pulling him into a kiss to quiet his mind.

“Adar!” “Lord Father!”

Celebrimbor yelped as Glug grabbed his curls and ripped the Elf off of Adar. Uzog scrunched their nose nervously as they offered their own hand to their father.

“Glug!” Adar snapped, rising by himself in an attempt to overcome his own shame and embarrassment. “Do not harm him.”

Glug, his knife already drawing a trickle of blood from Celebrimbor’s throat,opened his mouth to argue, “But Adar–”

“Fetch me chains, Glug,” Adar commanded.

A half sneer half pout crossed Glug’s young face, the knife defiantly drawing one last drop of blood before he rose and stomped out of the tent. Uzog ran their hand across their twitching nose, another nervous tic that meant they had thoughts they would not dare share, and followed Glug. Adar grabbed Celebrimbor by the front of his robes and arranged him back into his chair as if he weighed no more than a hollow, wooden puppet. Blood pooled along the back of Celebrimbor’s robe and matted the curls in the back of his head. How was he still resisting, let alone standing and talking?

Adar pinned his hands on Celebrimbor’s shoulders to ensure he would stay still, the Elf hissing and wincing in the process.

“Stop fighting,” Adar commanded, embarrassing himself by using his exasperated father's voice instead of the Lord of the Uruk’s voice. “You are injured far more than you wish to admit. You cannot undo your crimes by leaping into Death’s arms.”

If it had been that easy, Adar would have done it long ago.

Blood rolled down the side of Celebrimbor’s face and Adar gently swept back his curls to identify the deep gash that ran across the Elf’s forehead. Celebrimbor stiffened as expected, but only half pulled away, as if catching himself in the middle of the act and forcing himself to remain still. A part of Adar wanted to run his matted, but still soft, still perfumed and pampered curls through his fingers. How happy his children would be when they could care for their own bodies with the same love and attention as that of the Elves.

Glug and Uzog returned with heavy black chains and Adar pulled away from the Elf. Celebrimbor winced every time a length of chain wrapped around his chest and pinned him to the chair, but he had left Adar with no other option.

“Not so tight, Glug,” Adar said in Black Speech and his son spitefully tightened the chains wrap around the Elf, causing Celebrimbor to moan and wheeze. “He is our guest, Glug.”

Uzog wiped their nose once more and Adar internally sighed. Children.

As Glug circled him one final time, Celebrimbor gestured to grab him and he said, “That’s Elrond’s brooch.”

Glug sheepishly turned to look at Adar and, yes, the Elf was right. Glug was wearing the very pin Elrond gave to Galadriel to make her escape. When Adar asked him why in Black Speech, Glug looked down and muttered, “It’s shiny.”

“Was it taken or was it given?” asked Celebrimbor, desperately wiggling to escape his bonds despite the obvious agony it caused him. “Show me his body, if taken.”

“Leave us!” Adar snapped at his children before they could confirm one way or another.

Glug tied off the chain and left with a huff as Uzog shot Adar one last concern glanced before following their brother. Strange that life had been easier when they were simply looking for a homeland. Now that Sauron had dragged they back into the conflicts and contradicts of Middle-Earth everything was on the verge of falling apart.

“How did he get that brooch?” Celebrimbor pressed.

“It was a gift.”

“From Elrond?” asked Celebrimbor, tears forming in his eyes.

Adar nodded and Celebrimbor swallowed.

“I saw,” he sputtered, his voice hitching as he struggled to control what could not be controlled in his condition. “Elves wearing Lindon’s armor. I thought they were rescuing the city, but why would they?”

Again, that painful half grimace crossed his chapped lips and bitter resignation darkened his face, as if some brutal understanding had finally been accepted.

“They, too, think my people willingly betrayed them. That I dedicated myself to the Great Deceiver and his desire to dominate all life on Middle-Earth. How can they think otherwise? After I ignored Lady Galadriel’s warning, after I lied to the High King, after–”

He choked back another sob and hung his head. Adar slowly bent before the broken Elf and gently raised his chin.

“What did Sauron ask of you?”

Celebrimbor inhaled a few times to calm his nerves and regain control over his voice.

“Rings,” he half cried, half laughed. “Rings like the Elven three. Rings for Dwarves…Rings for Men…”

Celebrimbor trailed off and his gaze traveled over Adar’s shoulder. He glanced behind him and saw the pouch lying underneath the barren table.

“For Men?” Adar asked, unable to hide the incredulousness from his voice. “Men would never be able to withstand their power.”

“No,” Celebrimbor said pitifully. “That is why they must never return to Sauron. That is why you must release me and let me escape while I still can.”

“You will not make it far, not with your wounds and even if you did, you won’t be able to avoid Sauron forever.”

Celebrimbor’s jaw tensed in Adar’s grasp and then a spark burst in his eyes.

“You take the nine to Elrond.”

“What?”

“You take the nine to Elrond who will ensure they reach our High King. He will know how to use them to destroy Sauron’s plans. Release me and I will return to Eregion to buy you and Elrond time.”

“To return to Eregion would be mean endless torture and death.”

“It is my city and I failed her in life. Maybe I can redeem myself in her eyes in death.”

Adar withdrew from the Elf, half tempted to believe this was the talk of blood loss and pain and, yet, he also sensed opportunity in Celebrimbor’s words. He crossed the tent and using his prosthetic hand, he retrieved the pouch, Sauron’s influence flaring across his metal fingers. He hesitated for a moment before turning to Celebrimbor and unbuttoned the top three clasps of his robes. Celebrimbor sputtered objection after objection, twisting and turning the best he could, until Adar slipped the pouch into the secret inner pocket all Feanorians sewed into their outfits. That paranoid family made it a habit of having multiple hidden pockets and compartments in all of their clothes and furniture and traveling tools. Thieves and murderers knew better than to trust other thieves and murderers.

Celebrimbor shot him a look that was a mixture of outrage, confusion, and something Adar refused to name for his own sake.

“I will send a healer to you,” said Adar. “Do not attempt to resist or escape while under her care, otherwise she’ll make you wish you were back in Sauron’s hands.”

“You can’t keep me here!” Celebrimbor called to his retreating back.

Adar left the tent and saw Glug, arms folded across his chest, and Uzog, wiping his nose vigorously, waiting for him.

“Uzog,” Adar cut in before either child could speak. “Send for Shazzash. Tell her she is to care for the Elf as one of our own.”

“One of our own, all father?” Uzog could not help himself but ask.

Adar sighed as he heard his own phrasing echoed back. He needed peace and quiet and a chance to think.

“I need him alive, Uzog, alive and in the same or better condition than when he was brought in, understand?”

“No, Adar, but I will tell her,” said Uzog, sharing a glance with Glug before scurrying off.

Adar didn’t need Glug to speak to feel his anger and confusion.

“I ask you to trust me a little longer, Glug,” Adar said, holding up a hand to silence Glug’s diatribe. “I need time to think and plan.”

“Adar, let me help.”

“Help me by keeping up the assault and ensuring I’m not disturbed,” Adar said as gently as he could, but it didn’t soften the blow at all.

Glug’s face was heavy with sorrow and pity and Adar knew his fearless, faultless persona was cracking.

[dunbonnets]

ELENYA & ELROND, scene from The Rings of Power season 2 episode 2

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

The Abhorred | Adar/OC (part 1)

Summary: It is a moment Maethoriel never imagined, but the empty raiment at her feet proves that it had, indeed, come to pass. Sauron is dead. She should feel relief, but all that she knows instead is a sense of fear over a world that will see not only herself, but her companions as monsters to be eradicated at any cost. It is a fear that will pull her away from the only one who ever kept her safe. And she is hardly blind to how holding on to that fear almost certainly risks keeping her forever adrift from the one that she loves.

Warnings: angst, some hints of Stockholm syndrome, references to torture, it's gonna get pretty dark in here, folks. Warnings will be updated as the series goes on.

Tag-list: please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future updates!

A/N: Whelp...I've gone and done it. And I am freaking terrified that I will somehow mess this up! The vision in my head is something I am so, so very excited about, but imposter syndrome is a thing, and I'm not 100% confident I can pull it off. I suppose only time will tell?

Either way, though, this one is for all of my fellow Adar-girlies! He deserves all of the attention and love he can get, and I really hope that the demented little plot gremlins running amok in my mind have created something that at least some of you will enjoy!

It was not supposed to end like this.

That is the only thought the woman seems capable of as she stares down at the place where he once was. Where the one who had caused her so much pain had rested, dead. Gone. No more. Some small part of her knows that she should feel relief. That she should be pleased at his demise.

Now, though, all that she can seem to understand is the bone deep feeling of regret.

"I am your only future!"

The words ring inside her mind like the clamor of bells, a warning against any thought of breaking free. Of even attempting to seek another path that did not align with his plans. His plans, that only ever brought dissent and terror and pain. Still, she stares at the emptiness of the fabrics at her feet, shallow breaths rattling inside of her chest as her mind recalls that those fabrics once held his form. Sauron's form.

She cannot move. Cannot tear her eyes from the ground. She can barely even breathe, and the walls seem to close in from all sides. Silence surrounds her as all those that had been in the hall from the start take in what has just transpired, though they can hardly believe it to be true. It isn't until she feels the presence of another, moving to stand beside her, that she begins to return to herself, but when a hand rests upon her shoulders, everything within her is suddenly possessed by a desire to wrench herself away.

"Maethoriel—"

"What have you done?"

Muted though it may be, the inquiry lands like a blow upon the person standing beside her. Someone she once trusted, but the one who had now blown apart every last bit of the world she once knew. Her eyes search his face, desperate. Pleading for some sign that this was not, in fact, his plan all along, but she finds nothing. Nothing to indicate her wild hope is warranted. Nothing, save for the vindication of one who has, at long last, achieved a goal.

"What have you done?"

"I have done what was necessary to secure our freedom."

"Freedom," The woman scoffs, another step creating still more distance between herself and the one who stands beside her, something not all that far from pity more than apparent within his gaze, "What you have done is cast us out into the world to live in exile."

"We will survive, Maethoriel."

"As beings who are to be turned away by everyone we meet? As those who would be hunted for crimes that are unforgivable?"

"The true mind behind those crimes is dead."

"And we are the poorer for it!"

Bile rises to the back of the woman's throat as soon as the words are spoken, because even though a part of her believes them, there is another, private part of her mind that wishes with everything she has that she did not. She would be a fool to deny that acting in league with Sauron had brought them nothing but misery. That he had been a terror, holding everything he touched in thrall with an iron fist.

Still, after everything, there had been a sense of—if not belonging, then at least one of temporary respite. They had a home, even if it were not the most desirable.

Hardly able to stand those thoughts as they rise to the forefront of her mind, Maethoriel attempts to rebel against them. She tries with all her might to understand that what her companion has just done was exactly what was needed all along.

Silent, he watches her carefully. An expression that she cannot decipher appears in familiar features, and cuts through her, down to her very bones. Mere moments ago, the two of them had been standing, united, or so she had believed at the time, and now?

Now, it is as though a chasm exists between them. One it seems nothing can bridge.

It was not supposed to end like this.

"I am your only future! And my path, your only path."

The man standing before her had all but destroyed that future with a single blow.

Confusion flares within her as Maethoriel continues to stand rooted to the spot, chest heaving with the effort of continuing to breathe. With the effort of forcing herself to recall every moment of torment—every scar earned—the longer she had remained at Sauron's side. She reminds herself of each day spent hunting. Spent killing. Nights, consumed with another sort of conflict best left unspoken.

Every last one of them in the hall with her had suffered the same, and the prospect of freedom from such pain seemed far too alluring to be real. It was too alluring to be real, given the reality of facing judgment from those who had once flocked to their side.

Men, and elves, and dwarves alike would look upon them with nothing shy of hatred. She knows this as surely as anything else she has seen in her lifetime. But in spite of it, she also knows that she should feel relief that Sauron is gone. She should feel relief that the one who would see them all enslaved will never be able to harm any one of them ever again.

The regret she feels over her inability to genuinely give in to such a thing is nearly enough to bring her to her knees.

"...my path, your only path."

All of the deception—the betrayal at Sauron's hands—and even still, Maethoriel cannot seem to rid herself of the notion that this coup had been folly. That it would serve to do all of them far more harm than good. She cannot help but feel the flames of a dull sort of anger towards the one still standing beside her, and that more than anything else feels like the serrated edge of a knife slicing against her heart.

"What—what am I to do?"

Her voice cracks over the words, and the sting of unshed tears burns at her eyes, forcing Maethoriel to avert her gaze, rather than continuing to look the man beside her in the eye any longer. The idea of facing the betrayal he likely feels over her outburst is simply too much for her to bear.

Already, her heart yearns for forgiveness, though she begins to suspect that is a thing that will not come easily. Not when this apparent victory had been so hard-won. And even when she feels the warmth of fingertips not encased in a gauntlet's cold grip come to rest beneath her chin, turning her face upward once more, Maethoriel hardly dares to breathe.

"I will not force your allegiance, Maethoriel. Not as he did."

The fingers beneath her chin move, for a moment, so that the warm callouses of a familiar palm come to rest against her cheek in their stead, and Maethoriel wants to lean into that touch. She wants to savor that small bit of gentleness, and keep it close, forever.

Before she can make any move at doing so, however, the sensation is gone. Pulled from her at such speed she can hardly reconcile herself with its loss. Again, she averts her gaze, this time to avoid looking directly at the sight of her companion turning to depart. A low chant begins to echo around the hall while she struggles to choose. Stay with the empty raiment resting at her feet, or follow after one who, in spite of recent acts, she has come to love beyond reason.

Her thoughts are an amalgamation of pain, and regret, and confusion, but even then, she does not miss the words spoken to her, and clearly intended to be said in parting, spoken so lowly that even she nearly struggles to hear.

"I cannot choose your path for you. You must do that for yourself."

"I am your only future!"

A sob works its way up Maethoriel's throat whether she wishes it to or not, the sound drowned out amongst the tramp of feet as those who had waited in the rapidly emptying hall move to depart. A singular glance shows her that her companion is now entirely gone from her sight, his tall frame swallowed completely by the throng of those he called his children.

Slowly, she turns to depart as well, though her path leads in the opposite direction from the rest. She steels herself against the pain that winds its way like a vice around her heart.

Knowing that at least one of them would not be alone serves as meager reassurance when compared to the cost of her own choices. The cost of her own inability to free herself from Sauon's hold, even now. Now that he is gone.

The strange sense of grief that she feels over his passing only adds fuel to the fire that is now lending speed to her movements as she makes her way through darkened hallways. As she begins to consider the reality of an eternity spent in the shadows. And even if she knows not where she should go, or how she will spend that eternity now that it is staring her in the face, Maethoriel does know one simple thing.

Of the two of them, she is abundantly grateful that it will be her, and not Adar, that must endure it alone.

[feyhunter78]

Can I have Elrond x reader where she just cries as he holds her when the depression hits hard and she just finally lets it all out?

Oof babe I have felt this before, and damn if I don't wish I had an Elrond to help me through it. Hopefully this little fic is what you're looking for!

Take my Hand

You have been trying so hard, putting on a smile going through the motions with grace, but it was never enough. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, nothing could ease the weight, nothing could aid your desperate clawing, your frantic attempts to escape the ever-darkening grief that surrounded you.

It seemed impossible for one to live as long as elves do and not succumb to periods of sorrow, but everywhere you turned it seemed no one was suffering as you were. Was there something wrong with you? Were you simply too sensitive, too weak to handle the trials of life? Was it even worth it to try? It is easier, so much easier to lay in bed or on the floor before the fireplace and stare listlessly, to let your mind wander down every darkened trail, and stumble over every doubt, mistake, and insecurity that lay in its path.

Surely it was better for you to stay here, to let yourself rot into the floor and be consumed by time. Who would miss you? Who would even care? You were not a great hero, not a noteworthy person at all, simply a minor footnote in someone else’s story. It was better here, engulfed by your own thoughts, there was no way you could ruin anything or anyone. Alone was safe, and you wished to feel safe.

You watched the flames dance, the flickering red and orange curling around the wood, the pleasant pops and crackles bringing you a moment of respite. Truly, you just wanted to feel something. It is as if you are trudging through mud, sinking deeper and deeper, while everyone around you is dancing on the wind. And it is not as the humans say, that food has no taste, it still does, but it is muted, dulled, and you find it not even worth the effort.

The embers glow, and you blanked out, reaching your hand towards the flames. Perhaps this will solve it, finally you will feel alive once more. The heat is all consuming, even as your fingertips hovered before it, not yet touching, merely lingering. Are you even still alive, or is this all some terrible dream?

You wanted to move your hand, to plunge it into the flames but cannot, a small voice reminded you that others will ask, they will see, they will pity you. No one can know, they cannot be weighed down by you, so you pulled your hand back, staring at it as if it is a foreign creature.

A knock on your door jolted you out of your daze, and you scrambled to make yourself presentable but found no true energy for it. Perhaps if you gave no answer, whoever it was would leave?

Luck was not on your side, and Elrond appeared before your vision, his brow furrowed in concern. “Y/N why are you sitting on the floor?”

There is no way to describe, no way to explain, so you don’t. You simply shrugged your shoulders. “It is comfortable.”

He smiled at you and sat beside you. “I shall have to join you then.”

You nodded and returned to staring at the flames.

“I have noticed something, my starlight.” Elrond said carefully, prompting you to turn your head towards him.

“Oh?” Of course, he noticed, you were a fool to think everyone could not see straight through you. They all must be so disappointed, yet another one of your failures.

He nodded. “You seem…distracted.”

“My mind is plagued with thoughts, thus is the trial of life.” You jested weakly.

Elrond gave you a sad smile and pulled you into his embrace. “You do not need to hide from me, sweet starlight, I have known you for far too long.”

Suddenly you could no longer hold back your tears and a sob escaped you, tearing through you with the force of a great sword. “I—Elrond I do not know what to do.”

He held you tightly as you sobbed, great rivers of tears soaking the rug below you. “Whatever is the matter, please y/n tell me, and I will do all in my power to rectify it.”

“I am drowning.” You said, fingers gripping his tunic for dear life, sobs wracking your body.

Elrond hummed in understanding and began to rub your back soothingly. “I see, I see you, y/n, you are not alone, I am here, I will not let you drown.”

You buried your face in his chest, taking gasping, unsteady breaths. “You cannot help me; I am beyond saving.”

Elrond shook his head. “No, my starlight, you are never beyond saving, this feeling will pass, and I will remain by your side until it does. I care not if it takes days, weeks, years, or centuries, you hold my heart, and I will never abandon you. Not to the waves upon the ocean or within your mind.”

You looked up at him. “I do not know what to say, I feel as if I have been screaming, but no one is able to hear me.”

Elrond caressed your cheek, his thumb wiping away your tears. “And I am deeply sorry that I have been deaf to your cries for this long, but I am here now, I hear you, I see you, take my hand y/n I will aid you in your quest to free yourself from this crushing weight.”

You nodded, still a bit teary-eyed, but the weight had lessened, speaking the words aloud had freed a small part of your heart and for a split second you felt alive once more. “I will take your hand.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace

[queers-gambit]

The Rings of Power

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: Amazon Prime / Amazon Video

Shadows of the Past

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

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

word count: 5.1k+

🖤 reader insert 💔 small angst 🐑 filler ❤️‍🩹 literal hurt and comfort 💍 established relationship 🛑 abrupt ending 🍭 insinuated friends to lovers 🐝 oneshot 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of canon-typical physical violence and / or aggression 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 🔏 not edited

read here

Tower Scrolls

during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

word count: 4.1k+

🖤 reader insert 🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🐑 pure filler, no worth 💍 established relationship ⚠️ spoilers 🐝 oneshot / stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning ☠️ canon-complicit character death 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression and / or abuse and / or torture 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 😵‍💫 wonky brain went wonky 🛑 abrupt ending 🔏 not edited

read here

Match Made in Grey Haven

you find yourself in what feels like a distant relationship through penned letters. overcome with shyness during his visits, you avoid Herald Elrond - until your grandfather (and co.) steps in as matchmaker.

pairing: Elrond x shy!female!reader

word count: 2.9k+

⏳ kinda AU timeline: takes place before TROP 🧸 fluff 🎭 small drama 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 small hurt and comfort 🍭 friends to lovers 🐍 small family angst: dead parents 🥦 healthy family relationships 😵‍💫 wonky brain went a little wonky 🧠 depiction of mental health: anxiety and maybe being shy? 🛑 abrupt ending 🔏 not edited

read here

part two: The Risk

after your wedding, you and Elrond embark on your honeymoon touring Middle-earth. your company is attacked on the road by Orcs. help comes from an old friend.

word count: 7.1k+

⏳ AU timeline 🧸 little fluff 🥰 romance 🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💍 established relationship 🍭 friends to lovers 🙊 general language and content warning 🥦 kinda healthy family views 🥊 depiction of physical violence 🥂 alcohol consumption 🩸 depiction of blood and injury 👰‍♀️ wife reader 😵‍💫 wonky brain went VERY wonky 🔏 not edited 🛑 kinda abrupt ending ?

read here

Commander

being on opposite sides of the Rings eventually sends your husband back into your arms, and between your legs. haha, nice.

word count: 4.6k+

🖤 slightly reader insert 🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💦 smut 💣 small relationship angst 💍 established relationship ⚠️ slight spoilers 🔏 not edited

read here

Bait and Switch

Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

word count: 7.7k+

🖤 reader insert 🎭 drama drama drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💣 relationship angst (reader's a POW) 💍 established relationship ⚠️ spoilers 🐝 oneshot / stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning 🥦 healthy family dynamic 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🩸 depiction of blood and injury and slight gore (Reader bites off Orc finger) 💛 requires maturity and imagination 🩺 depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization) 👰‍♀️ wife!reader 🛑 abrupt ending 🔏 not edited

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt iii

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, more ships/love triangles to come, though, so stay tuned.

Summary: the deciver has decided he must get rid of you until a stranger reignites his curiosity in an unexpected way.

Word count: 2k

Notes: let me know if you wanna be tagged. I was not expecting this many people to like this fic. Thank you so much for the feed back, I read every comment and reblog multiple times. Keep any and all feedback coming. I'm super invested in this series and have so many plans that I'm so excited to write.

Tags/warning: male masturbation, nothing super explicit but sauron has some pretty unhealthy kinks, slow burn, saurons post nut clarity is murder plotting, sauron being sauron. galadriel finally shows up, cliffhanger

Series Masterlist

“She does nothing but sit there, day in and day out. Our rations are wasted on her!” 

“All of us sit and do nothing because there is fucking nothing to do.”

Halbrand and the older man were fighting again. Halbrand had become annoyed that the other had declared himself the de facto leader of the raft, and his anger exploded when it was proclaimed you had not 'earned' your rations. He had obviously found it absolutely insane and when you made no sound or protest, he took it upon himself to make it known how insane it was. 

“I am the leader here. I have organized the rations, I have kept order, and I have directed where we go.” The other man seemed offended. He had proven himself to be rather arrogant, and you held no surprise that he would suggest such a thing or believe that he was the leader of the raft.

“Oh great Lord of the Raft. How difficult your job must be. Deciding if we die a little to the west or a little to the east.” Halbrand rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

“Be sarcastic all you want. She's lucky we don't throw her in.” 

The air stilled and a dark shadow passed over Halbrands face, his jaw clenched and in a moment he had grabbed the other by their shirt, “The moment you do that is the moment I feed you and every single person on this raft to the wyrm.” Their faces merely inches apart,  Halbrands voice was cold, full of hatred, and it sent a chill over everyone on the raft. The older man stared up at him with fear, a fear so palpable and intense that it was as if he was looking into the eyes of the great foe himself. 

“Halbrand,” you spoke softly, fingers gently wrapping around his wrist and moving him away. “This is not what I wish.”

He turned to look at you and his gaze softened,tongue peaking out to wet his lips. The air flowed again, and the darkness lifted, “You wish to starve? Because that's his wish, that's his plan. He wants to make our supply of food last longer by taking the very little portion you have. He knows you would never say anything to him, and you can not ask me to sit back and watch you starve, sweet one.” His eyes searched your face as he spoke with such earnest conviction. 

“I do not wish for you to murder in my name,” you replied in a passionate whisper. 

Halbrand nodded, sighing softly, “Then I will not,” he leaned closer to you, so his lips were next to your ear, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. Your breath caught in your voice as he whispered softly, “Know that I would, though. If you only asked, I would burn this raft and everyone on it to keep you safe.” 

He pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you stood speechless. The butterflies in your stomach exploded. This was new. Your interactions had been purely platonic until this point. He never presented himself as someone more than a friend, and you had been content with that. Yet you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your forehead and greatly missed them when they were gone. 

The talk of murdering everyone else was one you didn't wish to dwell on. Perhaps it was hyperbolic. Perhaps said in anger. Either way, those were thoughts for another time. Now, you would embrace the shivers and butterflies. 

“Well, your highness, she will be eating today and I will ensure it,” Halbrand gave the man a pointed look and the other simply nodded, his eyes still swimming as if he'd seen some great horror but you were too fixated on the ghost of Halbrands kiss that lingered on your forehead to pay it much mind. 

~

He'd taken the deception too far when he placed that kiss upon your head. He regretted it the moment he did it. The taste of your skin stained his lips, and it was all he could think of. Your skin felt unbelievably soft and he could just imagine what your lips would taste like, your tongue, your cunt. 

Your cunt. The thought of it had been all consuming. Warm and wet. Soft and velvety. He ached to feel it, to taste it, to take it. The thoughts had led to his current position, standing at the edge of the raft with his cock in his fist. This act felt below him but the thoughts wouldn't leave his mind and he needed some relief from them. From the thoughts of you. 

Thoughts of your cunt. 

Warm and wet. Soft and velvet. 

His eyes fluttered, and his breath caught in his throat. He hated every second of this. He had no control. Ever since you looked up at him with those eyes of yours, eyes he wanted to make weep as you choked on his cock. He breathed a soft curse as he imagined your sweet, innocent eyes looking up at him with your lips wrapped around his cock. His thumb collected the precum from his tip and worked it around his shaft, the soft wet sounds filling the night. 

Would you be inexperienced?  Had someone claimed you before? You were his and his alone, his precious sweet one. The thought of someone else having you first filled him with such rage. He would drench his hands in their blood and paint your body with it as he fucked you. His hands around your neck, squeezing enough to feel your life thrumming underneath his fingers. 

You were his and his alone. No one else could touch you, no other lips taste you, no other cock take you. He'd burn all of Middle Earth to ensure it, torture any man who dared look at you. He'd carve his name into your flesh, lick the blood off your skin. A growl escaped his lips, the thought of his name scared into your soft skin. His hand tightened around his cock and his movements increased in speed. 

His breathing got more ragged as he got closer to his peak,  your name tumbling past his lips in a choked whisper. He could almost imagine you whining and whimpering his name, his real name.  That was what sent him over, the visual of you impaled on his cock and desperately calling his name. He groaned loudly, his seed shooting into the water. 

Breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Almost immediately, the cacophony of thoughts entered his mind. That had been a brief reprieve, but now his existential crisis continued. What was his purpose? Who was he now that his master was dead? Power and control, how could he have both without sacrificing the other?  

And then your smiling face flashed through his mind, the sound of your laugh...-

This couldn't continue. No amount of curiosity was worth this loss of control. He was a god, but his mind as of late had been reminiscent of a teenage boy. Thoughts may plague him, but he would forget you within the age. He needed you gone, dead. The longer you stayed alive, the longer these damn lustful thoughts would plague him and be his undoing. He was slowly losing his sanity because of you. 

The problem was he couldn't do it. He tried mere minutes before giving into these urges, but as he looked at your sleeping face, he couldn't bring himself to push you in and under the waves. In thousands of years, no one had been able to still his blade or stay his hand with such ease. He couldn't look at you and take your life. He could not be the one to do it, that thought alone proving to be more a reason for your death. Weakness was not something he would tolerate. 

His mind called out to wyrm, calling it to their location. If he couldn't do it, he'd give the task to something else. By nightfall tomorrow, you'd be gone. You'd be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the beast. By nightfall, he'd have his mind back. 

Why did the thought of your death fill him with such dread?

~

He wouldn't even look at you. You'd greeted him in the morning, and he ignored you. You sat next to him, and he moved to the other side of the raft. You watched as his eyes bore into planks of the raft. You wet your lips and pulled it between your teeth. He was your first friend in a very long time, and now you had lost him for reasons that escaped you.  You were utterly alone, lost at sea, and you struggled to find hope here. All you could do is close your eyes and remind yourself that falling into despair would do nothing more than make the situation worse and more hopeless.

You watched the clouds pass in the sky, counting them, and your fingers tapped away at the wood. Every few moments, you had to blink away the tears that had started welling in your eyes as you thought of losing another person you cared for. Suddenly, you sat up as you heard what you thought was a voice in the air. You squinted as your eyes examined the fog.

“There's a voice on the water.” You spoke quietly. 

Almost instantly, bickering broke amongst the others. To save her or not. You shook your head, “We're not leaving her to starve and die!” 

One of the others pulled her up and gave her water as you grabbed her a chunk of bread and looked for a piece of cloth or something that could bring the stranger some warmth. The bickering continued as you searched and returned with a piece of bread.

“Suppose you'll be sharing your rations?” the old man asked. 

You couldn't help the roll of your eyes, “Damn the rations,” you kneeled and handed the stranger the bread. “It's not much, but it's something. Are you hurt?” 

Before she could answer, one of the others asked, “What are you doing out here?”  

The stranger took the bread, “I was separated from my ship.” 

You looked at her with empathy. Of course, you could understand. She looked over at you as if to answer your question next, but she stopped, her eyes examining your face as if she knew you but was unable to place how. It made you uncomfortable, made your heart still. Has your past caught up with you all the way out here? 

“She doesn't look dangerous,” the other woman spoke.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Halbrand spoke, and you were about to protest when you saw the point to her ears. Your blood ran cold, and you moved back from her. 

“Remove your hand from me, sir,” the stranger spoke, her attention returning to you. “I know your face.”

You quickly stood up and stepped back. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. Perhaps the elf could save you, or perhaps she would convince the others to throw you into the sea. The sins of your father would never stop chasing you, it seemed. 

~

“I know your face."

His head snapped your direction at this revelation. What did that mean? How would an elf know you? He watched your reaction, the fear and shame passing over your face confirming that there was a story there. He cursed silently.

All day, he avoided looking at you. All day, he had convinced himself that you were nothing more than a naive human, that the warmth he felt had to be in relation to this new form getting used to the world around him. There was nothing special about you. Nothing at all. He repeated it over and over, though he never really believed it. He could sense the darkness and calamity swimming through the ocean towards them, the beast he had called, and he had convinced himself that your death would solve his internal struggle. 

But now, this damn elf had reignited the curiosity with vigor. It felt as if an inferno burnt through him. He had to know more. He knew when the wyrm came, he would be unable to leave you to death. You were the most curious thing, and it was infuriating. 

Who were you? 

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[sottotitoli-della-serie-tv]

The Rings of Power Stagione 2 Episodio 1 Streaming italiano

[yiska-h]

Sauron and his Queen | the rings of power

[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

Working on chapter two of my Celebrimbor x Adar fic.

[dunbonnets]

IVRIEL & ISILDUR + battlefield lyrics

nowhere to run from this... no way to forget

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

So, my hand slipped after thinking nearly non-stop about the whole Adar and Galadriel dinner scene vs. Barbossa and Elizabeth Swan and I...did another thing.

Pirate AU, anyone?? (Threw my OC Tilda in there from 'The Wanderer"/"Old Town Road" for funsies).

Apparently I'm trying to write 1,000,000 RoP AUs...