#they did finrod's hair dirty.

[likesdoodling]

So y'see, I forgot Orodreth existed up until I had kind of finished this thing, so in case you're curious, here's the original-

Guess who just connected the dots on who was who in a certain series?

So first time through I was like, Galadriel has a brother? (this was me 'pre silmarillion knowledge power up') and I was scrolling through random lotr and rings of power memes the other day (as you do, some of the stuff out there is Hilarious~ gotta get inspiration from somewhere, y'know?) and I was looking at this guy.... And going... 'Wait a minute. Galadriel's brother... Don't tell me... This is.. FINROD?!

*pauses to recalibrate~

:0:0:0

Now. Let me make one thing clear. I actually do like the Rings of power series (if you think of it like, 'someone got a huge budget for their fanfic!' then it's pretty cool/funny - especially if you watch it with fellow Tolkien fans, cause then you can be mock outraged in company~)

But. Finrod. 'killed a werewolf with his bare hands' Felagund. Deserved better. *wipes away imaginary tear~

Honestly I don't really care about the characterisation too much- it was the hair part that made me redirect my passion into making this. Like. My mental image of Finrod isn't necessarily a stern warrior type who is incredibly wise and would never say things like 'you gotta think positive! That's what makes ships float guys!' (wonder how well that worked crossing the Helcara- *ahem - moving on) but it does include long flowing golden locks. I... I just can't imagine him without the hair~

And thus this 'comparison' was born~

Also I thought drawing all the siblings teasing Galadriel (since she is the youngest sibling), would be funny.

:D

[urwendii]

returned! Fingon has to go back and kill post Nirnaeth Maedhros in the most romantic and tender way possible and then the Domestic! AU actually happens in this AU (brought to you by me being extremely unwell about these two)

yessssssss

it includes Fingon muttering how sorry he is while Maedhros bleeds to death tenderly cradled in his arms.

'I'm so so sorry, Russo." Fingon can't see much past the harsh downpour around them. Maybe it's another grace from Ulmo. Perhaps it is not at all. He does not know much beyond the body craddled against his chest. Maedhros' eyes are wide - terror and confusion, and - oh, also anger, that terrifying fierce white anger that burned at its core, the fire that even Morgoth could not put out.

"This is the only way, you know it." he sobs, kissing the clammy skin of his beloved's forehead. But Maedhros' fëa is clinging to him, clawing at Fingon's, hurling questions of How can you be there, I watched you die, why did you leave me, why are you there?

"Please Russo, let go - you have to!"

He does not want to consider what can happen if the redhead warrior, the ghost of a Prince, the shell of his other self, does not answer Námo's call.

"Please." he whispers again, against cold damp lips as more blood soaks through his tunic. Fingon had begged, Fingon had raged, Fingon had repented and Fingon had left again because how can he remain behind in the Undying Lands when so much is still crumbling around his kin.

Maedhros' lips are moving, opening and closing as if trying to form words but in the end its with his fëa he reaches for Fingon again — and it's like watching himself from Varië's tapestries once more, it's like seeing his husband killing and killing and giving up on everything, hope, kindness, clemency.

Fingon had died and with him took the last tiny part of Maitimo back to the Halls of Mandos.

"It has to stop beloved. It has. Please let go." And tenderly, as if they were still Findekáno and Maitimo, foolish Princes of the Noldor with naive hopes in them, he tucks a dirty carmin strand behind a damaged ear and forced a smile through his anguish.

The sword he used lays behind him, out of the way. Its steel and silver quietly crying in the rain.

"I'll be there. When you're ready to come home. And we'll go and build a house on that hill where I kissed you for the first time. Remember? You blushed so hard I thought you were going to swoon."

And finally, finally there are tears on Maedhros Fëanorion's face. Fingon kisses him and swallows back another shattering sob.

"Your mother misses you. And Finrod's there too, do you know? He came back faster than anyone thought he would."

Fingon can feel the redhead's hröa slumping, the fëa shivering. It is almost the end. He shuffles his legs and readjusts his grip on Maedhros.

"It's ok my love. It's ok. I got you."

It's over he wants to add. Let go of the Silmarils. The Oath is vain. Let go, let go, let go. Around him the rain comes to a lull and he can see the blurry silhouette of Lord Eönwë standing guard in the distance.

And then Fingon Astaldo, the Valiant, starts — for the second time in Beleriand — to sing to save Maedhros, from the darkness, from himself, from a fell fate that would have awaited him.

"I'll wait for you, Russo, as long as I have to so don't rush alright, beloved."

It takes a few more minutes and then Fingon feels it. He remains there sitting in the mud and clutching Maedhros' empty hröa, sobbing in the blood-soaked strands of hair, until the gold of his braids turn copper, until the clouds lift and Arien rises, until he feels Lord Eönwë's hands on his shoulders gently telling him it is all over.

[cloudyysworld]

Part of me want The Silmarillion to be on screen but part of me did not because if the First age is on screen the fandom will devided into: Feanorians apologist / "Feanor is a villian" / "They did not do this in the book"/ "The writers did them dirty" /Russingon ship war / Inc*st shippers /Glorfindel and Ecthelion fancam / Fingolfin's thirst tweet /Celegorm's war criminal supporters /"I have only seen LOTR" /"Where is Legolas?" /Luthien girlboss slay stans/ "The wigs look bad" /"The costume is cheap" /"The casting choice is horrible" /"They was cast so perfectly" , also 17749 edits of Finrod with his long blond hair and sick ass outfits on tiktok and twitter ,arguments between #TeamFeanor and #TeamFingolfin everytime new episode is outed ...etc...

[actual-bill-potts]

i just read your finrod-re-embodiment prompt fill and I'm having all the emotions </3 (loved it a lot, I will re-read this so often, I already know that!)

For another Finrod-related prompt: anything about his friendship with Turgon, maybe?

(I'm very partial to any "Finrod survives and is brought to Gondolin for some reason"-aus, if you need more incentive, but I'd be happy about anything! From fluffy early childhood in Valinor days, to "where did my best friend vanish to I miss him"-angst.)

-finnritter

Turgon had once loved the Eagles of Beleriand: the hope they represented, the promise that the Noldor were not completely abandoned by the Valar. He still trusted them, and honored them for their help. But ever since they had come bearing his father's body, he could no longer feel joy at their coming. His father's chest had been crushed in; blood had encrusted his mouth and run down his neck; the bones of his legs had been shattered beyond repair. His death must have been agony.

Nothing would ever erase the sight from his mind, and no matter how he tried he could not stop wondering: if you could bear my father away from that battle, why did you wait until he was dead? Perhaps it was a disloyal thought, to the Eagles who had indeed risked much to retrieve his father's body, and to his father who would have been furious to have been ripped from the battle he had chosen; but he did not care.

So when he saw an Eagle circling, and was able to discern a limp body clutched in its claws, his only thought was: not again. And then as the Eagle descended, he caught a white-gold flash of hair and began running for the hill-top on which they customarily landed, heedless of his startled guards or the flashes on concerned recognition on the faces of his people. His mind was wiped clean of all but a burning urgency. He was aware of a cresting wave of grief, growing in strength in a corner of his mind - but he would not mourn until he was sure. He would not. He would not.

He reached the top of the hill just seconds after the Eagle landed, his hair blowing back by the wind from its wings. He bowed hastily and then hastened closer.

The Eagle had deposited its burden on the ground, a bloody heap of rags and limbs in disarray. The one ear visible through a tangled mass of dirtied golden hair was cruelly torn.

This was not Finrod. Surely it could not be Finrod. Finrod was motion and laughter, beauty and song, always arrayed in gauze and gems; this Elf had had misery carved into the jagged lines of his bones.

The Eagle bowed its head to him. The Lord of Wolves has suffered a great defeat, it said in rasping Eagle-speech, and left this one behind. We recognized him.

With that it departed, and Turgon with shaking hands reached out and rolled the body onto its back.

The delicate lines of Finrod's face stared back at him, thin and bloodied and so very, very still.

But there is not room for another monument next to Atar's, Turgon thought, miserably and inconsequentially. There was a great scream building in his throat, but he could not let it out. I shall have to find another spot. Perhaps I will have it encrusted with pearls. He would like that. His head was pounding. He could not move. He could not speak.

Footsteps behind him; his retinue had arrived. "My King!" Culúrien in the lead said; then, sounding astonished, "What has happened? Who is that? We must summon the healers! Cyruion, Eruion, go the healers' wing and tell them to come at once to the Eagles' Hill! Go, now!"

The sound of the chosen messengers retreated quickly, but Turgon took no notice. "There is no need, Culúrien," he forced out, "he is dead, do you not see?"

"But he is not dead!" Culúrien exclaimed. "My King, he breathes!"

It could not be. He had prayed for this, when he saw Elenwë's still body, and Aredhel's, and his father's. His prayers had never been answered.

But now he was looking for it, he could see it: the faintest rising and falling of Finrod's chest. His head spun.

But there is so much blood, he thought, how can he be alive?

Finrod's chest continued to rise and fall. Suddenly his hand twitched - Turgon saw with a flash of nausea that it was mangled, the white of bone shining oddly through his palm - and he let out a quiet cry.

Turgon was not entirely aware of having moved, but he was suddenly kneeling at Finrod's side, one hand in his friend's filthy hair.

"It will be all right," he said, like a prayer. "It will be all right. My dear friend, you will be all right."

Finrod's lips moved, soundlessly. Then his eyes opened.

"Turgon...?" he breathed. "There was...an Eagle..."

"Yes," Turgon said, "The Eagle brought you here, to my city. To Gondolin. Here you will be safe. Just - hold on. Don't try to move," he added hastily, seeing Finrod gathering himself as if to sit up.

Finrod stilled, breathing harshly. "Wouldn't...dream of it..." he said.

Behind him, Turgon heard the approaching footsteps. "The healers are here, Finrod," he said gently, and moved to get up.

But Finrod reached out with his undamaged hand, hissing through his teeth as he did so. "Please," he said, voice growing fainter with every word, "Please - don't leave. My friend - I have missed you."

"I won't leave," Turgon said, and meant it. He grasped Finrod's undamaged hand, and held it as the healers lifted Finrod onto a litter and bore him back to the city; as they bandaged his wounds and set his broken bones, and stitched together the deep marks of teeth and claws all over his shoulders and chest; and he was holding Finrod's hand when his friend woke next.

Finrod's smile, now lopsided by a scar that split his upper lip, was still as brilliant as he remembered; and the pressure of his fingers, though thinner and more bare of rings than Turgon had ever seen, was a warm and familiar weight.

"I am relieved," Turgon said, "that I no longer need to order an absurd amount of pearls for your burial mound."

Finrod frowned slightly. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Turgon returned, and laughed. Something within him that had been frozen since his father's death seemed to be cracking open, flooding his chest with light.

He laughed again, because he could. It felt like a miracle.

[shiroandblack]

Silmarillion characters and if I could take them in a fight:

(note: this is absolutely unrealistic as if this was irl, average height-flabs for muscle-winded after one staircase-me would absolutely die fighting any of these people)

Fëanor: Yes. I can and will kick his ass.

Nerdanel: She can step on me and I would thank her.

Maedhros: I'd be dead in 0.1 second, thanks.

Maglor: No, but I would pull his hair so hard I'd rip a chunk off his scalp.

Celegorm: Yes. And I would pull his hair while I'm at it.

Caranthir: he wouldn't even need to get physical, he'd probably make me cry long before the fight even starts.

Curufin: yes, but I'm not walking away completely whole.

Amrod: I'll make him even crispier than his father did.

Amras: no, because he would kill me for Amrod.

Fingolfin: Absolutely not. I would be stepped on 7 times.

Anairë: she'd kill me without getting her hands dirty, so no I would die.

Fingon: No. He'd probably strangle me with his bow.

Turgon: Yes. I'd defeat him by throwing bricks at him.

Aredhel: I'd die.

Argon: who's Argon?

Finarfin: No, because he would talk me out of fighting him in the first place.

Eärwen: I would die via swans.

Finrod: No, because like his dad he would talk me out of it.

Angrod: No, I would get my head squished between his hands.

Aegnor: no, I'm not Andreth so I'm pretty sure I'd be dead.

Galadriel: I'd be dead in 0.1 seconds like Maedhros.

Celeborn: there is a reason Galadriel married him, so I'd probably die. No.

Elu Thingol: Yes, I'll bite his leg and never let go like a rabid dog.

Melian: bold of you to assume I'd fight her in the first place.

Lùthien: No, because I'd probably join her in dancing and singing in the woods away from civilisation.

Beren: Would rip off my head with his bare hands, so no.

Haleth: my head would be mounted on a pike after 5 minutes.

Elrond: no, because he would talk me out of it.

Elros: no, because he'd drown me.

Elwing: yes, because she would jump off a cliff before I even challenged her so I guess that would be a win for me.

Eärendil: no, he'd tie me up in his boat.

Dior: no, this is the guy who told the Fëanorians to fuck around and find out. I have chosen to NOT fuck around and find out.

Nimloth: no, I don't think I'd make it out alive.

Eluréd and Elurín: Celegorm's servants did the work for me.

Túrin: I'd probably be one of the many unfortunate souls he accidentally killed, so no.

Húrin: No. Just no.

Morwen: I'd be dead in 0.1 seconds.

Morgoth: yes. Just yes.

Sauron: no. I die like Celebrimbor.

Celebrimbor: no. But he would give me trinkets as a consolation prize.

Gil-galad: I'd become a shish kebab via Aeglos.

Finwë: yes.

Míriel: no, she'd stab me through the eye with her sewing needles.

Indis: RIP me.

[sunflowerjune]

When I re-wrote chapter 3 of my fic, this part became irrelevant. But I don't want it to languish, so here is a little drib-drab of Maglor and Earendil content. The context is that Maglor was living on HImring, but he got dragged into the ocean during a storm and washed ashore on Tol Eressea. Practically on Earendil's doorstep.

The Mariner settled Maglor before the central hearth fire and stood back. He looked at the elf lying before the fire. He was still shivering, seawater drying on his skin, sand-dust clinging to his damp skin and sodden hair. A bath then. And some broth. All his bones showed through his too-pale skin. He fetched a bowl from the kitchen and ladled a bit of broth from the pot that always hung over the cook fire into it.

He laid it down on the raised hearth to cool a bit and went to draw a bath, more glad than ever that one of his Noldor uncles – Turgon or Finrod – had insisted on fitting their little cottage with running water, though it stood far from any city.

He got their largest pot and filled it with water in the kitchen, hanging it over the hearth fire to heat. Then he sat down next to Maglor, and laying his head on his knee, began carefully to spoon the broth past his parted lips. Maglor sputtered a few times, but mostly he seemed to swallow well enough.

The bath! He’d left the taps running while he set about the other things, and now it was surely overflowing! Earendil started up, managing to catch Maglor’s head, but hearing the bowl clatter behind him. Well, he thought ruefully, screwing closed the taps, a bit of broth would hardly make a difference, considering the state of his guest and his floor already. At least he’d been in time, and the bath hadn’t overflowed.

Re-crossing the main room, he stood before the fire regarding Maglor once more. Perhaps he ought to give the elf more broth – surely he would be thirsty after such a long stretch in the salt water. After the bath, he decided, wishing he could ask Elwing’s advice.

He heaved the great pot into the bath room and drained cool water until he could add enough of the hot to make it a pleasant temperature for soaking. Then he fetched Maglor again, and unwrapping him, laid him in the bath. Maglor stopped trembling and his closed eyes at last seeming at rest. Earendil ran a cloth over his limbs and carefully washed the sea water from his face. He frowned in dismay at the long tangle of hair. He could wash the salt water from it, but he feared he would have to cut it. That could wait until Maglor awoke, he decided. He poured cupful after cupful of warm water over the Noldor’s head, shielding the elf’s eyes with one hand after he coughed and began to struggle at the feel of water pouring over his face.

---

Earendil began to grow weary. Steam fogged the air. The warm water dried uncomfortably cold on his shirt cuffs where they were pushed over his elbows and on the knees of his trousers. Maglor slipped and slumped in the bath, slack as he was, and Earendil had a deal of trouble keeping him from breathing in water. He’d done enough of that already, if the wet coughs that occasionally convulsed him were anything to go by.

There was much to do before he could rest. Maglor’s hands, which he’d thought were merely dirty, were a mess of cuts, the nails all torn or broken. One palm had a deep gash. And after he tended to his hands, he’d have to clean the floor by the hearth and make up a bed there, and feed Maglor some more broth.

At last he had Maglor dried and fed again and laid on a bed of soft rugs and blankets before the central hearth. Include something about how he does the work carefully anyway because Maglor needs his help/he cares about him.

He slipped upstairs to look in on Elwing, hoping she was still awake and would speak to him. But she lay on their bed with her back to the door. She did not stir, though he lingered some time in the doorframe.

At last he turned away with a sigh. It would not do to leave Maglor alone downstairs, ill as he was, lest he should wake or worsen in the night. He had vague memories of sleeping in the nursery with the boys one night, for Elwing had said they could not be left alone while they were feverish.

He made himself a pallet of all the blankets that were left, covering himself with the cloak hung by the doorway and sank at last into heavy-hearted slumber.

He stirred awake as a shadow leaned over him and felt Elwing press a kiss to his brow. He reached out for her hand, still sleep-shrouded.

Laughing a little, she pressed his hand and then slipped away. He heard her clattering about in the kitchen as he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, which fell on the still slumbering elf before the fire.

And his long dark hair lying half-combed in a bowl of water. Elwing. He smiled.

[demonscantgothere]

Slow Seduction Werewolf/Beauty and the Beast AU has now begun . . .

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by Helholden

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien  

Warnings: Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, F/M, Work in Progress

Relationship(s): Galadriel/Sauron, Galadriel/Halbrand

Tags: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, First Age, Alternate Timelines, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Werewolves, Magic, Kidnapping, Slow Build, Seduction, Power Imbalance, Conversations, Walks In The Park, Ballroom Dancing, Hunters & Hunting, Bathing/Washing, Masturbation in Bathroom, Voyeurism, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Vulnerability, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Mind Sex, Dream Sex, Consensual Mind Control, Mutual Masturbation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Rope Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom/sub Play, Power Play, Blindfolds, Body Worship, Rough Kissing, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Master/Servant, Master/Pet, Praise Kink, Post-Coital Cuddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sauron Being an Asshole, Sauron Kidnaps Galadriel and Seduces Her, that's the plot, That's it, that's how this works, Finrod Will Show Up Again Later, And Try to Rescue Galadriel

Summary:

“I asked for a handsome reward in exchange for Finrod Felagund’s life,” the man called out across the distance. He was tall, though not as tall as her brother, and dressed in swathes of black and grey, a loose hood shielding most of his face and hair from sight. “What do you bring me in exchange for him?”

“Galadriel, no—” Finrod began, but Galadriel cut him off.

“—Myself,” she answered his call, though it did not sound as assuring out loud as it had sounded to her before she left her home to make this perilous journey to come save her brother.

The black-robed figure chuckled in response. It started low, but it reached the distance all the way toward her. He grasped Finrod by the neck of his tunic, yanking him back. “What would I do with you?” he threw back at her. “You’re hardly a fair exchange for the warrior I hold in my grasp.”

Written for multiple tumblr prompts requesting: Werewolf/Beauty and the Beast AU. Takes place during the First Age on an alternate timeline on the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron's former strongholds. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself.

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[that-angry-noldo]

The Gilded Cage,

the world of dreams

Orodreth dies. Orodreth dies, but his spirit is caught and locked, added to the dragon's hoard. The reality mends and twists, creating a new life for the dead king.

CWs: unreality, implied character death

[This is my @officialtolkiensecretsanta gift for @elyksina! Merry Christmas and happy New Year!]

You are tired. 

You are lying on the ground, staring into the thick grey mist through the half closed eyes. 

Eru, you are tired. 

~

Orodreth woke up. His chambers were still dark. 

He could feel Finrod awake several rooms away - he was certain the man hadn't even slept. Orodreth sighed. 

He supposed it was his call to get up. 

~

"Did you sleep good?" Finrod said, trying to break the deafening silence of the breakfast. Orodreth looked up.

"You weren't even sleeping, Uncle."

"Oh," Finrod looked aside, reaching for the butter. He stopped midway through, looked away, stilled. Pulled back. "Oh. Yeah, right, I wasn't sleeping. I still want you to sleep well, kid." 

Orodreth sighed. "I'm not a kid a few hundred years already, Uncle. There was that paperwork I needed to work through, right?" 

~

"Gwindor!" 

Finduilas giggled, pushing away the dark-haired ellon, and hurried to Orodreth. 

Orodreth smiled at the elf-lord. 

Gwindor's face remained stone-cold. Gwindor grinned back. 

~

It is over. It is over. 

You lost. 

Dust settles in your lungs, and you cough.  

It's alright. You will be dead within hours anyway.

~

"Did you sleep well, Artaresto?" Finrod grinned, addressing him during a lively breakfast. Orodreth saluted him with his coffee.

"Better than ever, Uncle," he smirked, ignoring the ever present feeling of dread, doom dangling on a thin hair above his head, and passed the jam to Celebril. 

"Oh," Finrod grinned. "I'm sure your father would love to hear that!" 

"My-" 

~

Dirty hands grab you, and you gasp for air - no, you'll be dead, you'll be dead, you'll be-

You miscalculated, little gold, didn't you? 

~

"Better than ever, Uncle," he smirked and passed the jam to Finduilas. "It's a shame father… isn't here with us. He'd be glad knowing we're doing alright." 

Finrod's face softened. "Yeah," he smiled. "I think he would." 

~

It's funny. It's funny! You thought you'd escape - you thought something as inconvenient as death would save you. 

Poor, poor little gold. 

It's alright. I'll keep you safe. 

I'll keep you in check. 

~

"No," Orodreth sighed, rubbing his temples. "Please, this decoration goes here. Yeah, like that. A bit to the left. Perfect, thank you." 

"This looks spectacular," Finrod said, coming from behind. "You truly outdid yourself, nephew." 

"Thanks," Orodreth smiled softly. "I want the wedding to be nothing but ideal, Uncle. Thank you for your help."

"I understand," Finrod took a sip of wine from his glass. "And it's nothing, I was bored out of my mind anyway. Can I ask you a question, though?" 

"Sure," Orodreth shrugged, not taking his eyes off the decoration. 

"Why have you chosen gold?" 

"Wha- Uncle- these are clearly white." 

"Are they?" Finrod whispered, and Orodreth turned to him. 

"Were you sleeping well, Artaresto?" the dead king asked, looking at him with empty eyes, and Orodreth-

~

"I understand," Finrod took a sip of wine from his glass. "And it's nothing, I was bored out of my mind anyway. Can I ask you a question, though?" 

Orodreth inhaled. "No, I- I don't think I'm in the mood for questions, Uncle." 

"Oh! Oh, that's alright," Finrod said, surprised. "No, it's fine. Do you need some wine?" 

"No, I don't," Orodreth whispered. "I have to go now. Thanks for help." 

"Finduilas said hi," Finrod threw to his back. Orodreth hurried out of the room. 

The decorations were golden. The hallway was endless. 

It was fine, 

~

it is fine, it is fine, it is fine it is it is, little gold. You're fine. You're alright. 

You're so amusing, by the way. 

~

They were in the middle of a sunflower field.

"Hi," Angrod said, and Orodreth's breath hitched. He fell into his father's arms. 

"Dad," he sobbed, and his shoulders shook. Tears ran down his cheeks and fell on Angrod's soft robe. "Dad, dad-" 

"Hey, it's alright," Angrod whispered, rocking him back and forth. "It's alright. You're safe. You're safe now." 

"Dad, dad, dead, dead-" 

"Shhh," his father whispered, kissing his forehead. "It's alright. Stay with me." 

~

Stay with him, huh? It would be a fun scenario to watch now, wouldn't it?  

… I'll let it play out. I've got a whole eternity here with you anyway. 

~

He was lying in the field. The skies were purple. 

"It's peaceful, isn't it?" 

"How are you here?" Orodreth scoffed. 

Finrod shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not real." 

"You- you are." 

"Huh. That's new, little gold." 

"Don't call me that." 

"As if I have a choice," Finrod said. "Were you sleeping well?" 

The sky was pink. The sun was setting. 

The sunflower field was endless. 

~

"Finrod's been all weird lately," Orodreth proclaimed, walking in the room. Angrod was pouring tea in his cup. 

"That's Uncle Finrod for you, Artaresto," he scolded, but smiled soon enough. "In what way was he weird?" 

"We were talking," Orodreth said, sitting in a chair. "He called me-" 

~

"He called me-" 

~

"He-" 

~

Come on, Artaresto. You can do it. 

~

"Artaresto?" 

"Artaresto, are you alright?" 

~

Are you sleeping well, little gold? 

~

Come on, Orodreth. Wake up. Please, I can't be with you any longer-

~

"You're- you're-" 

"Hey, hey, everything's fine, alright? I'm here, you're here-" 

"Dad-" 

"It's alright, I'll make you some tea. You love- you love mint, don't you? Yep, mint and honey, mint and-" 

The tea tastes like nothing, Orodreth thought absently. The tea tastes like nothing. I'm surrounded by flowers, and yet they have no smell. It's evening, but I feel no cold. 

"Dad."

"Or do you want some warm milk? I can do that, I can do that too-" 

"Atya!"

Angrod stilled and turned to his son. 

His eyes were too blue and his movements were too stiff. 

"I have not been sleeping well," Orodreth whispered. "I-" 

"Ever since Bragollach," he choked. "Ever since you- ever since you and Uncle and Celebril-" 

"Oh," Angrod whispered, and the next second his arms were around Orodreth, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Artaresto."

"You're dead," Orodreth whispered. "You're dead. Uncles are dead. Finduilas- Finduilas is dead." 

"I am dead, too."

Angrod didn't move. 

Orodreth inhaled and laid his father on the ground. Angrod's hands were cold and unmoving. 

"I don't want to sleep forever," Orodreth whispered. "I don't want to sleep forever, but there is no escape." 

~

Your new world is beautiful, in the same way a gilded cage may look perfect to its owner. 

Sometimes, you are in a field, surrounded by beautiful flowers that never had a smell. Sometimes, the sky is painted in unreal colours. Sometimes, the sun is almost warm, almost alive. 

Sometimes, you're in the middle of empty cities, with chimeras staring at you from sharp roofs, with architecture twisted in the most beautiful, in the most distorted way. 

You're always alone. Your world is always empty, safe for the golden eyes of your beast warden. 

There are no sounds. 

There are no tastes. 

There are no smells.

You start forgetting. You're too tired to keep fighting. 

Until, 

~

The world cracked, and Orodreth thought he was dying for the second time. 

He was dying, because the world screeched and roared and twisted and Orodreth heard, Orodreth heard for the first time- for the first time in eternity, and he screamed and fell and it was pain and it was agony and

and Turin stood with black sword in his hands, blood hissing on its blade,

and Orodreth screamed and ran to him, 

but he fell, 

and he was falling and falling and falling and falling and then

Orodreth died. 

His father cried and reached to him with bodiless arms. 

~

"I'm sorry," Finrod said for the hundredth time. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do more." 

"It's alright," Orodreth whispered. 

The sea was dark and grey. A seagull cried in the distance, and wind brushed his cheek, and it smelled of salt and algae. 

It was cold, and the rock underneath him was rough, but it was so unmistakingly, so goddamn alive.

Orodreth wanted to cry. 

"It's alright. After all, I'm not asleep anymore." 

[warthoong]

Lay of Leithan eternal love and appreciation post.

so. I love the scene in Nargothrond SO MUCH. just think of it!!!!

Huan smiles and watches Finrod dancing

Finrod is flinching every time extremely exasperated Beren makes physical contact with him

Beren DOES LOOK LIKE HE LIVED IN FOREST. he has a white strand of hair! his face is dirty and wounded

Celegorm and Curufin are planning a rebellion or smth like that and they act very annoyed when happy dancing Finrod interrupts them

Huan also distracts Celegorm and Curufin!! he does the wandering thing all dogs do! Celegorm is pissed

did I mention that Celegorm and Curufin have fliers saying Finrod will fail and the sons of Fëanor are the only ones who can successfully fight Morgoth?

Finrod looks directly at Celegorm when he says he cares about his promise more than about his relatives, which is probably just acting, but I love it! may be a reference to Feanorians and Finrod being cousins(this didn't mentioned anywhere in the opera) and also may be a reference to the Oath and the exact same feeling Feanorians have about it(they too care more about the Oath than about each other)

elves of Nargothrong just. sit there. drinking. and then when Beren comes they are ready to use their bottles as weapons. which is the most elves-of-Nargothrond-ish thing ever

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/hgG40TD

by Helholden

“I asked for a handsome reward in exchange for Finrod Felagund’s life,” the man called out across the distance. He was tall, though not as tall as her brother, and dressed in swathes of black and grey, a loose hood shielding most of his face and hair from sight. “What do you bring me in exchange for him?”

“Galadriel, no—” Finrod began, but Galadriel cut him off.

“—Myself,” she answered his call, though it did not sound as assuring out loud as it had sounded to her before she left her home to make this perilous journey to come save her brother.

The black-robed figure chuckled in response. It started low, but it reached the distance all the way toward her. He grasped Finrod by the neck of his tunic, yanking him back. “What would I do with you?” he threw back at her. “You’re hardly a fair exchange for the warrior I hold in my grasp.”

Written for an anonymous tumblr prompt: Werewolf AU. Takes place during the First Age on an alternate timeline on the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron's former strongholds. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself.

Words: 4471, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Galadriel | Artanis, Sauron | Mairon, Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Finrod Felagund | Findaráto

Relationships: Galadriel | Artanis/Sauron | Mairon, Galadriel | Artanis/Halbrand (The Rings of Power)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, First Age, Alternate Timelines, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Werewolves, Magic, Kidnapping, Slow Build, Seduction, Power Imbalance, Conversations, Late Night Conversations, Walks In The Park, Walks In The Woods, Ballroom Dancing, Hunters & Hunting, Bathing/Washing, Masturbation in Bathroom, Voyeurism, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Vulnerability, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Sharing a Brain, Mind Sex, Dream Sex, Consensual Mind Control, Bad BDSM Etiquette, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Rope Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom/sub Play, Power Play, Blindfolds, Body Worship, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Master/Servant, Master/Pet, Post-Coital Cuddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sauron Being an Asshole, Sauron Kidnaps Galadriel and Seduces Her, that's the plot, That's it, that's how this works, Finrod Will Show Up Again Later, And Try to Rescue Galadriel

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/hgG40TD

[fuckingfinwions]

Finrod/Feanor, set in Feanor’s harem au. Fulfills the “roleplay” square on my season of kink bingo card.

As Feanor was climbing out of the bath after a long day in the forge, he heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Feanor set down the towel, but did not bother to dress. The only ones who would bother him at this time of night were his sons, after all.

“Curufin, and I’ve brought a gift. May I come in?”

“Of course, I’m always interested in whatever you’ve made.”

Curufin kissed his father deeply on the lips. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I can only take partial credit for this one. It’s a group effort between the seven of us.”

“What is it then?”

“Galadriel is the most beautiful elf in Aman who is not already yours. We know how much you want her, and though we couldn’t persuade her to come in person, we found someone who can act the part very well. Here she is.” With that, Curufin made a theatrical beckoning gesture at the door. 

The elf who walked in the door had golden hair with pale hints, tumbling down in waves to the waist. Said waist was narrow underneath a short white dress. The elf’s chest heaved - perhaps from anticipation, perhaps from restricted breathing. Finrod’s eyebrows had been plucked to two thin arches, which he looked out from under with a blush.

“Do you like her?”

“I do, you’ve made a very pretty portrait. Who did which part?”

“I had the initial idea that we should find someone, though Maedhros was the one who pointed out the opportunity close at hand. Caranthir sewed the dress, and I worked with him on some underclothes that give her such a pleasing shape. Amras contoured the face, and we all helped on the hair, though Celegorm made sure it wouldn’t stiffen up.”

“I noticed it was lighter than Finrod’s,” Feanor said as he leaned in to examine Finrod’s tresses. “Did you need to bleach it?”

“No, it will wash out if she takes a bath. We realized we needed something translucent to get Galadriel’s hair right, so we came on her hair rather than inside someone. Don’t worry though, we pleasured each other; she should have plenty of energy left for you.”

“A very ingenious solution, I will have to remember it. Well then Galadriel,” Feanor spoke to Finrod rather than about him for the first time in the evening, “You’ve finally agreed to join me?”

Finrod was still blushing - as he not done since his first few months in the harem - but he answered quickly. “You are the most powerful of the Noldor, as I am the most beautiful. I want to feel that power unleashed on me.”

Feanor grinned sharply. “And so you shall. Curufin, you may go. You’ve prepared a very excellent gift indeed, and I want to devote all my attention to her tonight.”

“Of course, but let me know in the morning if there’s anything we could do to make playing with her more fun?”

“Certainly.”

Curufin left and closed the door behind him.

Finrod stood for a moment, unsure what to do. He couldn’t actually imagine that his sister would fuck Feanor in any circumstances, but that was the character he had to play for the night.

Feanor traced one finger across Finrod’s painted lips. “You are far quieter tonight than I have ever seen you in public.”

“I am overawed to finally be here after so long.”

“Perhaps, but it is your passion as much as your beauty that drew me to you. You have such fire to you, and I would hate if that wilted in the face of my own”

Feanor kissed Finrod. Finrod took control of the kiss immediately, moving his lips like a command, tilting his head without waiting or Feanor to follow.

“There you are. But I’d rather lead tonight.”

“Do not forget, I am a princess as much as you are a prince. More, for I am the granddaughter of both Finwe and Olwe.”

“Oh? And do they know what you are doing here tonight, in your uncle’s chambers, desperate for my touch like a bitch in heat?”

“They do not. But I make my own path, and do not belong to them.”

Feanor grabbed Finrod’s ass through the dress, making him squeak. “That’s right, you belong to me. Arafinwe would be heartbroken, to hear how I seduced not only his heir, but also his pretty little girl.”

It was threats rather than seduction that caused Finrod to stay, but he knew better than to ruin his uncle’s fun. “What can I say? My brother and I share a taste for the finer things in life. Very fine indeed.” Finrod slid one finger up Feanor’s chest, tracing the line of his breastbone between his sculpted muscles.

"I appreciate that you dressed to make yourself look pretty for me, but take it off now. I want to see you properly.”

“I am beautiful whatever I wear, and more gorgeous in just my bare skin than any other would be covered in a dozen jewels.” Finrod untied the bow behind his neck and let the dress all to the floor. Caranthir had experimented with several different designs, but this was the only way Finrod get get his broad shoulders out without help.

Especially with the corset. The corset served to push his chest up into the appearance of breasts, stopping just below his nipples. It was tied so tight that Finrod couldn’t bend his waist at all, and was surprised he hadn’t fainted.

Feanor’s gaze wasn’t on the corset. It was on the red lacy panties adorning Finrod’s hips, padded to disguise his cock and balls.

“Turn around for me, Galadriel. Let me see your sweet little ass before it’s dripping with my cum.”

Finrod lifted one side of his mouth in what hopefully looked like a haughty smirk. “Very well Feanor, but you must do the same afterwards. I want to see every inch of your glory tonight.”

Feanor jerked his cock once. “Is this not enough inches for you?”

“We’ll see,” Finrod said over his shoulder.

When Finrod had fully turned away, Feanor hissed and stilled his hand. The little red panties with such a carefully constructed front had absolutely no back at all, leaving Finrod’s asshole on prominent display. His hole was glistening, lube dripping to the tops of his thighs. 

“You’re wet. Have you been playing with yourself, naughty girl?”

“Not tonight, this is all from seeing your gorgeous body at last.” At Feanor’s disappointed silence, Finrod quickly added, “I have before though. In the bath, thinking about when you would finally fulfill my forbidden desire.”

“Oh? You put your fingers in your sweet little pussy and imagine they were my cock?”

“Hmm, yes,” Finrod turned around, and looked up through his lashes at Feanor. “Does that turn you on, to know you long I’ve wanted you?”

“It makes me think you should be punished, actually.” Feanor grinned and stepped close to Finrod. “A nice girl like you, moaning in lust over your own uncle.”

“And what do you propose to do about it?” Finrod challenged.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, so you can see how much better the real thing is. Then I’ll spank you, for having such dirty thoughts and not telling me immediately. After that, I’ll fuck you again, each slam against your fresh bruises chasing you to even greater heights of pleasure.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t see why you should have it all your way. You can fuck me and spank me, but then I get a turn. You can lay back, and I’ll take this,” Finrod reached down to stroke Feanor’s cock, “exactly as fast as I want.”

Feanor retaliated by sticking a finger in Finrod’s ass. “Your cunt is surprisingly tight, for all the talk of lust and cock that comes from your lips.”

“I didn’t see a reason to settle for less than the greatest elf in Valinor.”

“You clam to be a virgin? Half the city would beg just to get a glimpse of your heaving bosom.” Feanor began to kiss said bosom in emphasis.

“Mmm,” Finrod moaned. “They can beg all they wish, but they will not get it. I have decided who I wish to give myself to and no lesser man will persuade me.”

“None at all? Not even your handsome big brother? they say the two of you are.. close.” Feanor ruthlessly pressed into Finrod’s prostate at the same time as biting down on his chest.

“No! He is handsome enough, but has not your strength or fiery spirit. And I would not dream of offering you anything that another has tried and gotten bored of.”

“But if I wished to see the two of you together, the golden curls on his head mingling with the silver-gold between your legs?”

Finrod did not want to think about how Feanor planned to accomplish that sight. At best Finrod would portray Galadriel and one of the Princes would portray Finrod. “Perhaps. But tonight, I want only you.”

“And you shall have me. Lie down on the bed.”

[feanope]

For @feanorianweek 2018 / Day 5 + Curufin

♕ Dog Days ♕ read on AO3

‘Share your life with a dog, it’ll be fun they said.’

In Nargothrond, Curufin attempts to bathe Huan

General Audience, 1.2 k, Humor, Crack(ish), Dog Washing, Because we all need Curufin bathing Huan, Celegorm & Curufin, Curufin & Huan

*

Huan didn’t mind being dirty and stinky, nor did Celegorm.

Well, Celegorm didn’t mind Huan being dirty and stinky, Curufin corrected his thoughts, though now that he was thinking about it, Curufin had to admit that in fact, Celegorm didn’t seem to mind being stinky and dirty, either.

But at least he could tell Celegorm to have a shower every now and then.

For Huan, that didn’t work.

Not that Curufin hadn’t tried before, much to Celebrimbor’s delight. He had wholeheartedly laughed at his father’s conversation with the giant dog. So, he could not expect help even from his own son.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Celegorm had said.

Living with a giant dog who farted and snored was not exactly fun.

The fact was: Huan had to have a bath, and sooner rather than later.

Celegorm wouldn’t bathe him.

Celebrimbor wouldn’t bathe him, either, but then, Celebrimbor didn’t have to share quarters with the stinky beast on a daily basis.

Well – Huan would bathe... but only in mud and feces.

So that was no good.  

Curufin rolled his eyes.

The only possible ally he had in this was Finrod, who had complained more than once about the stench tickling his kingly nose.

Well ..

No.

He would not ask Finrod for help.

Wouldn’t, and could not, knowing well what Celegorm’s reaction upon finding out that their golden cousin had laid hands upon his precious dog would be. Curufin wasn’t in the mood to provoke a second kinslaying so soon.

*

A couple of hours later, Curufin stood in their quarters, armed with a looped rope and foul smelling treats in a small leather bag. He found Huan resting close to the fire on the bearskin Celegorm had placed there especially for him. The dog was curled up with his muzzle hidden in his own fur, snoring quietly. Even from there Curufin could smell the stink of his brother’s dog, wafting through the warm air.

It disgusted him more than Orodreth’s words ever could.

“Huan?”

The large dog lifted his large head lazily from the ground, regarding Curufin with stoic indifference. “Be a good boy and come over here.”

Naturally, Huan didn’t obey him.

“Look what I’ve got for you.” Sticky chicken hearts, cooked but still raw inside, were in the palm of Curufin’s outstretched hand and now sudden interest flared through the dog’s golden eyes.

Curufin stepped forward as Huan rose from the furs and silently padded towards him.

The treats were in one hand, whilst the rope was in the other, hidden behind his back. With interest Huan sniffed at the meat before he licked it, licking Curufin’s palm rather than anything else.

Disgust rose inside of Curufin, both from the stench and the dog’s tongue against his skin.

Quick.

You must be quick.

With Huan now eating from his palm, Curufin brought the rope forward and fixed it around the dog’s thick neck.

It took exactly one second and the last chicken heart gone until the rope was in Huan’s mouth. He tore at it playfully with a strength that almost sent Curufin flying face forward to the floor.

Damn beast.

He hadn’t expected that.

Snarling, Huan pulled in one direction, while Curufin threw himself the opposite way. He cursed under his breath, but somehow he succeeded in maneuvering Huan into the adjusting bath. All the while Huan snarled and barked and jumped around Curufin in ridiculous excitement.

Pushing against Huan’s backside Curufin finally got him inside of the shower, following him quickly inside. He shut the glass door behind him with a sigh of relief.

The shower cabin was barely large enough for them both, Curufin realized as soon as he opened the water, half of it pouring down on himself but somehow it had to work out. For the sake of his breathing it simply had to. Much to his own amazement, Huan was perfectly calm as Curufin wetted his fur.

Water itself apparently was okay but the water itself would not help against the stench of dried blood and worse.

As soon as Curufin tried to soap Huan, the dog was wrestling and clawing to get as far away from it, but Curufin would not relent.

He had come so far …

As quickly as possible he applied the mint-scented soap to the wet fur, disgusted by what came out of the thick fur. Curufin didn’t dare to look closer, focusing on the matter at hand until Huan was covered in white foam.

Only then, Curufin turned on the water again and saw brown filth flowing over the marble tiles. Huan stoically let himself be thoroughly rinsed.

Lulled into false security, Curufin even allowed Huan to shift towards the door, the flaxen rope still wrapped around his arm. And then it all went wrong.

Huan barked happily and jumped up at Curufin. He was already at eye-level with him so the showerhead fell onto the tiles. It sent the water splashing in every direction but mostly directly at Curufin from below.

Voice high-pitched, Curufin screamed. “Damn you!”

Curufin almost slipped on the wet and soapy floor when he tried to reach the door only to find it barred by Huan’s giant form.

“You damn dog, let me out of here,” Curufin cursed under his breath.

Huan shook himself. And all the while he was barking in delight. It sounded like mockery in Curufin’s ears, and most likely it was exactly that.

Instead of obeying Curufin’s word, Huan jumped around in the narrow space with the water still turned on, shaking himself every now and then. Of course, Curufin tried to push him aside, tried anything, though with little success.

Wrestling with your brother’s dog in the shower; just see what you have become.

Curufin was now soaking wet from head to toe; the black tunic with the silver threads; his breeches; even his underwear, and the hair that now clung to his face.

All of a sudden, booming laughter that wasn’t Huan’s own filled the room. “Seems as if you two are having a lot of fun.”

Curufin’s head spun around and he saw Celegorm leaning against the door quite casually, arms crossed, smirking in amusement. Startled by his master’s sudden appearance, Huan forgot the task of barring the door against Curufin and jumped against the door to free himself.

Curufin stared at the running dog, at the water droplets he sent flying when he shook himself, until he was at Celegorm’s feet, barking happily. Celegorm ruffled the wet fur for a moment before he shooed Huan out of the bathroom with a devious grin.

“Why – “ Curufin began, watching Huan obey, but his question was cut abruptly short as the rope, still wrapped tightly around his arm, tore at him.

No.

No!

“Damn you! Damn you both!”

Screaming, cursing, and soaking wet Curufin landed face forward right at Celegorm’s feet, which smelled worse than Huan had.  

*

A huge thanks to fellow dog-owner @cycas for the beta read

[that-angry-noldo]

For the character ask game, would you do Finrod and Finarfin, please?

Of course!!

Finrod

I absolutely love Finrod's aesthetic. He's a snake he's a himbo he's antropologist he's a shiny he's covered in blood. just. top tier

I've actually just remembered this but I did invent a name for him! Tyelpenimer, Silver Shadow, is a name Maglor gives Finrod in my werewolf au

I love fanon vision of Finrod, especially appearence-wise. He definitely wears loads of jewelry, loves laughing and is a sweetheart. However fandom is also 100% WRONG. I don't love it when Finrod's portrayed as this perfect unproblematic cousin, or as holier-than-thou person, or as an optimistic ball of sunshine. My beef is probably with "holier-than-thou", mostly because I picture Finrod as someone who's pretty much able to see his own mistakes and to be fully aware of his wrongdoings. That's why I hate when C&C or, God forbid, Sauron are pictured as having moral high ground because "at least they're aware they did wrong things and aren't hypocritical"

Finarfin

HE'S A LEGEND HE'S AN ICON AND HE *IS* THE MOMENT

the man the myth the blorbo

HIS AESTHETIC ALRIGHT. he's a noldo by heritage, vanya by mother and teler by choice. no one does it like finarfin

NO ONE GETS HIM LIKE I DO (/jk)

No but for real, fandom does him dirty. I rarely see him as something more than a background character, and even then, he's usually kind, quiet and forgiving. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he posesses these traits, and I love that in him, BUT THEY'RE NOT ALL THAT CHARACTERISES HIM!! he's sad he's lonely he's hurt and he's angry!!!! and he has SO much potential. honestly it makes me sad there's not much aracentric fics

his hair glows in the dark. during war of wrath it glows constantly. i will take this headcanon into my grave and make tolkien canonise it

there's not much fanart of him which is a shame, though the fanart that exists is spectacular

there's like ten lines about him in canon. i based my entire personality around those ten lines. can you tell people find me weird

yes fanon is MEAN to him. I still remember vividly his description as a mommy boy, crybaby and a coward, all in one fic that claimed to be "objective" and "historically accurate". i also came across a take that pictured him as a corrupted power-hungry character, worse than both his brothers. though also fandom mostly ignores him which is just as mean because it makes me sad (/lh)

THERE IS SO MUCH PROJECTION. i'm sorry he's just a character that matters a lot to me

all in all. 10/10. the best character ever written, second to maybe hurin. exellent brainrot material, top tier. if you talk to me about him i Will cry of happiness.

[demonscantgothere]

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by Helholden - Chapter Seven: Crossing That Line [NSFW]

Werewolf/Beauty and the Beast AU. Takes place during the First Age on an alternate timeline on the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron's former strongholds. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself.

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Warnings: Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, F/M, Work in Progress

Relationship(s): Galadriel/Sauron, Galadriel/Halbrand

Tags: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Age, Alternate Timelines, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Werewolves, Magic, Kidnapping, Slow Build, Seduction, Power Imbalance, Conversations, Walks In The Park, Ballroom Dancing, Hunters & Hunting, Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Masturbation in Bathroom, Voyeurism, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Vulnerability, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Mind Sex, Dream Sex, Consensual Mind Control, Mutual Masturbation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Rope Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Power Play, Blindfolds, Sensory Deprivation, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Rough Kissing, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, Biting, Master/Servant, Master/Pet, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sauron Being an Asshole, Sauron Kidnaps Galadriel and Seduces Her, that's the plot, That's it, that's how this works, Finrod Will Show Up Again Later and Try to Rescue Galadriel

Chapter Summary:

Halbrand stepped closer to her until there was no distance between their bodies, and he leaned against her with his hand still on her waist. The hand holding her chin slid around to the back of her head, cradling her hair, and he brought his face close to her ear. “You could go up to your room, lock and bar your door, and I’ll come to you like I did in your dream. My hands will never touch your body. I will be down here, and you will be safe and alone in your room. It will all be up here . . . ” Gently, his hand ran over her head and his fingers combed through her hair, and Galadriel trembled in response to that. “It won’t be real, but it will feel real. Then, you can decide. If your answer is still no, I’ll accept that, and no line will have ever been crossed between us.”

Galadriel breathed heavily through her mouth, feeling her limbs shake. This was insanity. Was she even considering it? His hand played with her hair by her shoulder, and she felt him pull away from her at last. Both of his hands settled with a light touch onto her shoulders, and Galadriel looked up at him. He was looking directly down at her, his expression solemn as he regarded her.

“Just go up to your room,” Halbrand repeated in a soft voice, his hand straying from her shoulder to caress her cheek with his thumb. “Lock and bar your door. I’ll stay here.”

Keep Reading

[amethysttribble]

Ten favorite characters from ten different things, tag ten people.  Tagged by @ailinu, thank you SO MUCH!

I’ve done this ask game before, and I’m glad to have another crack at it because I was disappointed with my list last time. I love all of those characters, but I didn’t explain why and you could tell I was confused about what I wanted to value in a character. Let me tell you, it’s the hardest ask game I’ve ever done, because I have to ask myself, “Does this character appeal to me on a personal level, or are they well-written?” 

Sometimes the answer is both, but mostly it’s one or another,

Consider this list an exploration of that, and a sliding scale. 1-3 are pretty firmly in the ‘pleases me’ side of the scale, while 4-7 are sliding closer towards ‘well-written, not as personally appealing’, and 8-10 fit both of those categories.

1) Hubert von Vestra from Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Do I think this edgy goth is all that well-written? Not especially. Did I dedicate over 30,000 words and a month of my life to a character study of him? Oh yeah. 

2) Lucius Vorenus & Titus Pullo from Rome (HBO). They are a set! Do not separate! They kill things and protect children, and they are literally the ‘Stupid + Thinks They’re Not Stupid But Is’ dynamic and they also have shitty relationships with women, goddammit HBO, and I just think they’re neat.

3) Dr. Leonord ‘Bones’ McCoy from Star Trek. True TOS personality test, who did you first stan when watching the show, and who do you stan now? For me, it was Spock -> McCoy, and you know what that is (in my case!)? Growth.

4) Sanji, from One Piece. This boy is a weird one, because he’s so well written at times that it’s a real shame that he’s so BADLY written at times. But, he’s soft and smokes and does the floppy hair thing and loves his pirate dad. Do you feel that suit? That’s SON material. 

5) Jem Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. Scout is basically my grandmother, and I’ve always really associated this book with her and her childhood in the deep south. Jem, though, is my favorite character from the book, and I think his growth is amazingly written (cough, I’m a ‘Truman Capote wrote the book’ conspiracy theorist, cough).

6) Roy Mustang, from Fullmetal Alchemist. There is literally nothing I love more than ambition in a character, but the dirty kind that knows it’s dirty. Which is why I need to really sink my teeth into Finrod soon. 

7) Blanche Dubois, from A Streetcar Named Desire. Talk about a play that fucked me up when I read it. Blanche is so tragic; I can’t say I like her, but I do feel awful for her and I understand exactly what Williams was getting at with her. And understanding a character deeply and intrinsically is all you can ask from a piece of fiction imo.

8) Andreth, from the Silmarillion. She and Aegnor MAKE ME SAD! Moth and the flame speech gets me every time. The humanity of it all.

9) Michael Corleone from The Godfather (movies, I’ve never read the book). Catch me watching Godfather II on New Years Eve, drinking red wine, crying about how I’d be a good mobwife. 

10) Yennefer of Vengerberg, from The Witcher (tv show, as I’ve not read the books). I spent the whole show rooting for her. I wasn’t sure I liked Yennefer, but I knew I would if the writing just delivered on what I was promised. It delivered, and that last episode was amazing. It hit me hard, and I came out of it 100% ride or die for Yennefer. Tbh, if the whole show was about Yennefer I probably would have liked it more.

Geez, ten people? Okay, okay, please feel free to ignore or answer at your leisure. @eccentricmya, @zealouswerewolfcollector, @this-is-menegroth, @curufins-smile, @plantro-naut, @eigwayne, @bluedancingkittykat, @elanna-elrondiel, @arofili, @huanhoundofvalinor