#tiny elrond au

[lordgrimwing]

How Elrond Saw Celebrian

(and fell madly in love)

Elrond sat securely on the bough of a great tree, nestled comfortably in its leaves. He held a fresh raspberry in his hands, juice spread across his sticky face. Yes, he held a single raspberry and it took both his hands to do it, for he was very small. So small, in fact, that on particularly unfortunate days, a strong gust of wind could pick him up and carry him away, leaving him stranded far from the lovely trees and mushrooms he and the other tiny fae critters called home. Blown far away, he spent hours—days even!—bumbling his way through the forest, up and down all the little swells and falls in the rich loam, stopping to bounce on the new mushrooms, until he eventually found his way home. It was a lot of work, being tiny.

Elrond, of course, did not see himself as small. The fae were perfectly sized; the rest of the world, particularly the speaking races that made such hubbub and noise, was just very large. Those big folk weren’t considerate when they came traipsing through the forest with their horses and wagons and pounding feet, so the fae kept their distance and hid at the first sound of them, ducking under mushrooms or inside trees, and muttering and grumbling about how ‘didn’t that just ruin a perfectly wonderful afternoon’ and ‘now all the berries will be gone’.

Most of them did, anyway. He wasn’t quite sure why everyone insisted on griping. He only hid because that’s what everyone else did—and wouldn’t it be so strange if he was the only one out and about? He’d never met one of the big folk himself, but he figured they couldn’t be much worse than that one mouse who climbed into his freshly made mushroom home and insisted on raising a whole litter of babies there with him. The baby mice were quite cute and he’d hold one on his lap until they got too big and ate the mushroom. Even if they were just like those mice, he fancied he’d like to meet one someday, maybe talk to them if he felt very brave.

But there was always time later for ‘someday’, so when the cry came up that big folk were approaching, he joined the mad dash for the closest shelter. Stuffing the raspberry into his mouth, he tumbled from the bough. He bounced off two of the orange mushrooms growing in a spiral around the tree before landing on the ground. 

He landed a little harder than he expected. He still hadn’t quite figured out how to estimate things like that and everyone else made it look so easy. Juice dribbled from between his lips, his mouth too full to close and the impact causing most of the fruit’s drupelets to burst. Shaking off the fall, he ran for the nearest unoccupied bell-shaped mushroom cap. His arms pumped furiously as he crossed the distance and he giggled a little with excitement.

He dove under cover. He had just enough time to twist around and peek under the frilly cap, the spore gills tickling his hair, before the big folk came into view. He caught his breath, choking down the berry so he wouldn’t be distracted by the sweet juice as he watched.

Huge horses came first, their hooves thudding into the ground so hard it made his teeth chatter and his head shake as they cleared hundreds of his own steps in just a single, elegant stride. Elves accompanied the horses, some riding and most walking by them, easily keeping pace. 

He gasped quietly in excitement, gripping the mushroom with his sticky hands. They stood so unbelievably tall, always graceful despite their height, with long hair pale like artemisia or dark as the inside of a rabbit’s den or bright as solidago in summer. Their voices rang clear and deep, though not nearly so deep as the men or dwarves he’d seen. He thought, if he were brave enough, he might like to sit out on a log or a sun-warmed stone and listen to such voices for hours on end. Of all the big folk, he loved seeing elves the most.

He watched them draw near, the ground vibrating as they came nearer and nearer, closer than they’d ever come before. This was too exciting, and he gave a little dance where he hid. 

Two horses passed and on them rode two elf-ladies. One had light hair held back from her face by a band of woven metal. Her eyes twinkled with light, like sunlight in the thousand droplets of dew on the spider’s web in the morning. She rode with a straight back, her head high, and she had an air of awe and might to her, unlike any creature he’d ever seen. A green stone glittered on her chest. When her gaze moved slightly in his direction, he trembled with fear, clutching the mushroom cap tighter and wishing he’d tucked himself away somewhere stronger, like the old woodpecker nest he’d found the other day.

Elrond might have looked away then, thinking tiny and invisible thoughts in hopes that she would not notice him, had he not seen her companion.

She did not ride so tall upon her horse, her back and shoulders loose and relaxed as though sitting atop the massive animal was as natural to her as breathing. Her hair tumbled down her back like running water, yet pale as ice crystals on the sides of the streams in winter. Her face reflected the soft light filtering down through the green leaves of the trees, and her smile glowed brightest of all. The sight of her made him forget his terror of the first.

“My mind is made up, mother. You shall not change it,” she said, and oh how her voice made the birds’ calls and the insects’ songs hollow and tuneless in comparison. Her voice alone might command his heart to beat and his lungs to fill with air. He flopped to the ground, falling out from under the mushroom’s cover, careless of if any elves took note of him, wishing only to see her more clearly, to be slightly closer to her as she passed.

“Your father is awaiting our arrival in Lórien. He will be deeply grieved at your absence after so many years apart,” the Great Lady murmured, her voice deep and rich like heavy loam at the start of a thunderstorm. “He misses you greatly.”

His Lady’s face fell, her mouth curving down and her eyes hooding. It made him ache, filled him with such grief that he desired to cry out for her but still dared not bring open attention upon himself. She breathed deeply and looked up again. “I know, and he will be welcomed in Imladris whenever he wishes to see me—all will be welcomed in Imladris,” she said with conviction that could make the very earth bow to her will and reshape itself to her need.

Her mother’s lips thinned and she said more to her, but he could not hear for they passed on and other elves took their place, murmuring in conversation loud enough to block the only voice he wanted to hear again. His Lady had gone away from his sight and the twisting of life was such that he might never hear her again.

Elrond collapsed against the ground, his face falling into the moist soil. He cared not now what the others might think of him revealing himself when he ought to have stayed safely hidden. He cared not if the elves took note of him and carried him away as a treasure like the storytellers said they might, nor even if some other of the big folk came along and spied him and trod on him or poked at him with pointy sticks. His entire life felt now shaded as by a malicious tree. Whither he went and whence he came, all he did now would be dampened and dulled by Her absence. Even the residue of the berry on his tongue tasted of decay and felt of stream silt. He lay there for some unknown time—what meant time now but the eternity stretching on without Her? 

“Elrond,” someone said as they poked at his side, exasperated. “They’re gone. You can stop playing dead.”

He lifted his tear-streaked face to look at the speaker, soil sticking to his wet skin. “Are you sure?” He asked, lower lip trembling and brows wrinkled together. Perhaps the elves would turn and come back. Perhaps the Great Lady forgot something she needed and she would turn the whole company around to retrieve it and he would see his Lady again.

The other crouched, reaching forward to wipe the dirt off his face. “Yes, Elrond,” she sighed. “It’s safe.”

He sat up slowly, sniffling and wiping his nose across his forearm, succeeding only in adding more soil to his face and smearing the snot from his weeping. “Okay.”

She shook her head, her poofy hair possessing the gall to bounce happily. She looked at him, eye-to-eye—how he desired now only to gaze up, up, up at the eyes of his Lady—then looked down at her hands and said, “If you get this scared about the big folk, you can always hide with me.”

He sniffled again and murmured a listless ‘okay’ before crawling back under the mushroom to hide from the static meaninglessness of the muted world around him.   

[nighttimepatrons]

Trick or treat here’s my costume 🧛

Oh! That is an very good costume!

Here have a treat from the pages of ye olde sketchbook

Tis Celebrian and tiny fae!Elrond.

She will eventually take him back to Imladris with her :³

[lordgrimwing]

alternatively

[sesamenom]

no living man may hinder me: The Gilded Wraith of Numenor

from the Reverse Gondolin AU, based on @who-needs-words's idea for Ar-Pharazon's fate! (they also wrote a ficlet for it, check it out here!)

[theoppositeofprofound]

Briefly enraptured by an AU where the only thing needed for elven marriage is eye contact. That’s it, just eye contact between two people who mutually, absolutely want to get married. Melian and Thingol really were gone from first sight. Finwë and Indis’ remarriage was an issue because it’s a small continent and there’s a decent chance they’d accidentally elope. Aredhel and Eöl, who didn’t have any half measure in them, got screwed over by the cosmic happenstance of thinking “would” simultaneously. Elrond and Celebrían on their third meeting, both a tiny bit precognizant, already predisposed to know their fate, catching each other’s eyes over a dinner table and agreeing to let fate win. Lúthien looking Celegorm in the face as defiance—he can see her all he wants but she’s already realized his worth. Andreth, whose people had dealings with elves, staring into Aegnor’s eyes and begging him to flinch.

Of course this quickly devolved into thoughts of elven chastity veils, and blindfolds, and mirrored sunglasses, and stupid little horse blinders. The eyes of the Eldar in battle are notable because otherwise they have these weird googles on the rest of the time. The debate about whether widows and divorcees need to take precautionary measures, now that they’ve invented widowhood and divorce. The social mores. The controversy. The songs. The eye contact averse humans who think that it rocks that elves won’t look at them. I cannot stress this enough, the very ridiculous, frankly counterproductive little glasses.

[doodle-pops]

Pocket-Sized AU! Elves Adventures

A/N: In celebration of recently earning 1.5k followers, I couldn’t help but share a project I had been working on since January 2022. Returning to my old Wattpad days of Pocket-Sized Imagines, I decided to create this for fun and as a new AU with excitement to share. I do hope you all enjoy these pieces I've made!!

Context: Follow through on an adventure with different elves as your Pocket-sized friend.

Style of Content: Headcanons & Alternative Route

Introduction: When your life had been down the drain in the past few months and your lack of having good friends became an issue, you found yourself isolated. Days rolled into weeks and nothing seemed to be working no matter how much you pleaded to have good friends in your life. Growing frustrated in a final plea for comfort and someone to care for and adore you, one day, you decided to shut the world out.

However, you awoke to the sound of an anonymous knocking on your door. Rushing, hoping for a moment of opportunity, you came face-to-face with a giant grey box sitting on your porch and a note attached, addressed to you.

𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑌/𝑁,

𝐼 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖���ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑀𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑗𝑜𝑦, 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑘!

𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦,

𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠

𝑃.𝑆: 𝐷𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑠.

Growing more confused about the letter and the contents of the box, you first peered around your porch for the suspect before eyeing the box. Taking a deep breath and reaching out to unfurl the silver ribbon, the box came undone to reveal multiple smaller boxes of the same colour, yet, one stood out the most. The same grey box, but with the addition of a red bow.

Tempted to unravel this box first, you reached forward and brought it closer until there was a muffled “Hey! Hey! Careful!” making you freeze for a moment before ripping the cover off to reveal a tiny person inside.

Gasping and nearly falling on your butt, you braced yourself against the doorframe as you were caught in a staredown with this mini-person. Larger eyes staring in panic at smaller, softer and much serene ones.

“You’re a...what are you exactly?” you doubted in astonishment and interest, focusing on the movement and expression he cast.

“I’m not a ‘what’, I’m a ‘who’. Who am I?” he rectified as he stood upright with tiny hands upon his waist while looking up at your gigantic figure. “I am an elf, and a pocket-sized one to be precise, sent here to care for you and be your friend...so my Master says!"

Speechless at his ability to move around and speak like an ordinary person, you were slightly dumbfounded. “Ah...”

“You must be the giant mortal my Master spoke of? Y/N was it? I am...”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ��� House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ House of Fingolfin

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ House of Finarfin

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Lords of Gondolin

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Doriath

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ House of Elrond

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Gil Galad & Gwindor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Bonus: The Ainur

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @mcwentfandomtraveling @ladyenchanted @aconstructofamind @lamemaster @stormchaser819 @hermaeuswhora @zheiya @addaigio @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

©doodle-pops 2024: no permission to repost, upload, translate or plagiarise on any platform. I do not own these characters. All rights to the original creators. Please do not steal my content.

[lordgrimwing]

Tiny Elrond has a shoe box and it is soooo roomy

so ummm welcome to my jar:) lemme show you around! theres some holes poked in the top so i can breathe, theres some leaves to munch on, and ive even got a twig! #mytwig

[teddyniffler]

Get to Know Me!

Thank you so much for the tag, @myfavouritelunatic

Last song: Running in the night by FM-84

Currently reading: (The Power of Five) Oblivion by Anthony Horowitz. It's one of my all time favourites.

Currently watching: I'm not currently watching anything now Rings of Power has ended 😭 I am just going over some scenes to pick out Elrond gifs, so does this count as a watch? If so then Rings of Power.

Currently craving: Christmas! I feel it 🎄 It's so close now 🎅 I am itching to put up the tree. I'm also wanting more time in the pool as I've found an exercise at last that is giving me a tiny bit of muscle and I'm here for this. I also crave water as I'm forever in a state of dehydration.

Coffee or tea: If I'm home, it has to be Yorkshire Tea, we don't do any of that nasty Tettley Tea or PG Tips in this house, no madam! However when I'm out, it's coffee all the way. I do love a latte or a cappuccino.

A hobby you would like to try: I would like to play the violin as it looks so amazing, but I already know from my failed keyboard/piano and guitar that my hand coordination is really not great and I should leave the awesome violin covers of rock song on YouTube where they belong.

An AU you're working on or thought of: I don't really do AU 🤔 but maybe a Power of Five where nobody dies and everybody is happy! Yes, that's great. I would love an AU where the Gaunts didn't die out and they are still in the Wizarding World 🥺

Tagging @rypnami @artdork26 @girl-named-matty @helenvader @t0rak @timelord-sorcerer @sekkitsu @sebastianswallows @shady-swan-jones

But no pressure x

[greenleaf4stuff]

Oh, goodness! It looks like someone strung up some mistletoe! What three couples (or throuples!) got stuck together underneath and how’d they react?

Hii @mylovelylittleobsessions and thank you so much for sending me this ask game! I was already itching to do a part 2 of the Seven Minutes in Heaven game, so this is absolutely perfect! It's a mix of modern!AU and leaving it up to the viewer. Again, all pairings will be Adar-centric m/m ships and I will put my ideas below a cut. And again, beware the smooches, ye who enter here.

(Also I did four because I had too many ideas oops)

Pairings:

Adar/Círdan (established)

Adar/Celebrimbor (established, modern!AU)

Adar/Gil-Galad

Adar/Elrond (established, modern!AU)

---

---

Adar/Círdan

"Well, would you look at that?" Círdan says and grins. At Adar's raised eyebrows, his gaze drifts upwards, where the uruk can see some mistletoe hanging over their heads.

He looks back at the elf and starts smirking, before he steps closer to the other. "And what does this mean, I wonder?"

"Hm - couples are expected to kiss under the mistletoe. It's a tradition," the elf explains as if Adar isn't already aware of the aforementioned custom.

Adar pretends to ponder that for a moment, then shrugs and leans forward with a mischievous grin. "That sort of kiss?"

And he presses one to Círdan's forehead. The fair-haired elf briefly closes his eyes at the gentle contact, but when Adar pulls back, there is a gleam in his expression. "...not quite."

"Hm. Maybe that one?" And Adar kisses his eyelids, barely a brush of lips.

"No. Not quite that one either. But it's closer," the elf says with a tiny smirk.

"Alright - then what about this one?" Adar asks, and finally leans close and places his lips on Círdan's, contact gentle as a breath. He doesn't pull back far this time.

Círdan makes a humming sound. "Yes - but I am not sure it's completely right yet. I'll need to make sure whether or not I might be mistaken."

"That can be arranged," the uruk smiles, expression fond, and fully presses his lips against the elf's. Their arms find their way around each other's hips as they enjoy the quiet moment.

Judging by the way Círdan smiles into the kiss as well, Adar seems to have managed to figure out which kind of kiss it was that had been required by the mistletoe - and the elf in his arms.

Adar/Celebrimbor (established, modern!AU)

The two of them only briefly split up, Adar to get himself refill of Gil-Galad's famous mulled wine, Celebrimbor to briefly talk to Mirandia about some smithing work.

When they join up again, the smith is beaming - and while Adar had been too late to get himself a glass of mulled wine (Galadriel had been faster, as she usually was), seeing the other so happy puts a smile on the uruk's face as well.

Only when the two stand together and begin hearing snickers from across the room do they realise, after some giddy pointing by Gil and Elrond, that there is a mistletoe hanging directly above them.

While Adar pretends to be a little annoyed at the elves' childish antics, Celebrimbor looks fascinated - and contemplative.

"Is something the matter?" Adar asks and raises an eyebrow. His hand easily finds Tyelpe's shoulder. When the smith focuses his gaze on the uruk again, his expression is warm and open. He shakes his head, and then-

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" Celebrimbor asks, confident and just a little mischievous. Adar never expected the other to be so forward when they first got together, but it is a quality he adores about the elf.

He places his hand in Tyelpe's hair and strokes the soft curls, enjoys how the smith's head tips into his palm, eyes full of affection. Adar knows that he couldn't deny the other a kiss even if he tried.

Their kiss is soft, and they break apart to pepper some smaller kisses onto one another's lips right after. Then they just remain standing together with their foreheads touching for a while.

Only after a moment do they part again. Seeing Gil-Galad bring out a refilled bowl of mulled wine, Adar juts his chin in that direction. "I'll see if I will be luckier this time around. Will you wait for me here?" The resulting grin is almost sly, but quickly morphs into one of fondness again.

The smith smiles back, nods, and then motions for Adar to go. "Better be quick then. And bring me a glass as well, please." The uruk nods, and then he's gone, quickly drawn into another attempt to pester Gil for the recipe of the drink. (The uruk has already tried countless times. He won't be successful this time either.)

Celebrimbor watches the other go, and then looks back up at the decoration over his head. He has pondered finally proposing to the uruk for a while now. And considering his profession, he has decided to fashion the ring himself.

Looking up at the mistletoe, and how close it hangs to a decoration made of holly leaves and its berries, he thinks he might finally have an idea for a design.

Adar/Gil-Galad

The usually so self-confident and flirty Adar is surprised to the point of almost freezing up when Gil-Galad points to the decoration above their heads with a qurik of his eyebrow. The uruk has been too focused on the discussion at hand, and perhaps also on the elven king's dark eyes, his voice, his hands-

One of which is rising up now, slow enough that Adar could pull away, while the elven king keeps his eyes locked onto the uruk in front of him. With gentle fingers, he touches a strand of hair hanging in front of Adar's face, and tucks it behind his ear, fingertips grazing the delicate tip of it in the process.

Adar feels color bloom across his face; he's taken off-guard by the forwardness, but also the softness of the gesture. Gil-Galad's eyes remain warm. And then there is a slight quirk to his lips.

"May I?" asked low enough no-one else could hear. It's clear that the other is being delicate about this for Adar's sake - he is giving him the chance to refuse, even to pretend none of this had happened in the first place.

The uruk feels the skin of his ear prickle where Gil-Galad has touched it, and swallows his fears. "Yes."

His voice comes out breathier than he expected.

The elven king is still slow as he cups the back of Adar's head, grip light, and leaves him room to turn away, to change his mind. Adar remains still and stares at the other right until the moment their lips meet.

He's pretty sure that he makes a small sound - he'll likely be embarrassed thinking about it, later, but for the moment he can't focus on anything but the other's lips on his, the elf's body heat as both of them step into each other's space, how the grip at the back of his head becomes tighter.

When they part for breath, Adar feels as if he were floating, and relishes in the way the elven king looks ruffled as well, lips kiss-swollen and eyes so impossibly dark.

Adar/Elrond (established, modernAU)

The half-elf, who is usually so quick to fluster, is giving Adar a cheeky lop-sided grin when Adar steps next to him. He motions his chin up and when the uruk follows the motion- ah. That is why. Adar looks down at the other again, asking a silent question with only his eyes - 'Do you want to?'

A nod. 'Yes.'

Adar turns fully towards Elrond then and cups his cheek. He smiles warmly at the other, who faintly blushes at the gentle touch. The uruk steps forward and rests his forehead against Elrond's, whose eyes fall closed as they breathe in each other's scents. The sound of everyone else talking, the Christmas carols on the radio, all of it falls away.

Adar brushes the tip of his nose against Elrond's, who chuckles just a little before Adar rubs their noses together gently, his grip shifting to cup the back of Elrond's head. The uruk tilts his head - on the next stroke of their noses, he moves his mouth down and captures the peredhel's with it.

He more feels than hears the exhale of air through the Elrond's nostrils, and then the younger one reaches up to put his hands on Adar's shoulders and kisses him back, lips moving against each other slowly, languidly.

Adar is pretty sure he feels at least one set of eyes on him - on them. But he doesn't bristle. He doesn't even mind. All that counts in that moment is the person he is kissing, and that when he opens his eyes, Elrond is looking back at him, slightly flushed, and undeniably happy.

[lordgrimwing]

For the WIPs game, could you share more about Tiny Elrond?

Thanks for asking!

'Tiny Elrond' is the name of an au in which Elrond is--get this--tiny. He's like 2 inches tall.

It's just a silly au that came about from some frantic audio editing with @nighttimepatrons (shocker). Elrond is a little fae creature who falls madly in love with Celebrian the first time he sees her. He spends all his time pining for her until one day he sees her in the forest and works up the nerve to say 'hi' to the giant elf. Celebrian thinks he is very cute and takes him back to Imladris. Celebrian founded Imladris in the late second age with the help of Erestor and Glorfindel, who are still helping out in the third age.

It's just a cutesy little thing about how Elrond learns to navigate a giant city while being madly devoted to Celebrian (she eventually falls in love with him too, don't worry). I also get to play with some of the complications of Elrond no longer being in his natural environment.

The WIP doesn't get much attention but I am very fond of it still.

I have a little story written of Elrond first seeing Celebrian and I will post it with the slightest provocation.

Ask me about my WIPs!

[lordgrimwing]

Celebrian comforting Tiny Elrond after his near-death experience (he saw a jack-o-lantern)

Pattadol comforting her fairy after it was GRIPPED by Mithrun was such a cute detail

[runawaymun]

Not-Yet-Written-Fics Game

Tagged by @camille-lachenille to talk about the various fics swimming around in my soup of a brain that I haven't gotten around to writing anything down about. Y'know, the ones that exist in vivid detail inside my head. So here's a rough list, and you guys can send me asks about them if you want <3

The Kidnap Fam Fic - the one where I finally write down the abduction of Elrond and Elros from Sirion, as I see it, and how 'Love grew' between E&E and M&M, re how Tolkien phrases it, with all the messiness and the fucked-upness and the complex trauma and, yeah, the love.

Celrond get-together enemies-to-lovers speedrun. -- NOT the Celrond arranged marriage AU, of which I have actually written about three chapters. This is, instead, how I see them in a more canon sense.

Rivendell's Tiny Tearaway - another adopted family fic (what's new) but this time it's about Elrond, Estel, and Gilraen.

The Magician's Nephew x LOTR crossover that would make Tolkien spin in his grave and CS Lewis cackle with delight.

Stranger Things x LOTR crossover (mostly centered around One/Vecna and Elrond).

MGME except it's my OC from my sci fi novel.

Celebrimbor Lives AU

Celrondir (Celrond x Lindir) origins fic

Partake Prequel

EDIT: Adding two more that I forgot about

10. The Elrond in Valinor fic + second flight of the Noldor 11. Another MGME but it's just my OCs from my historical fiction novel

Tagging: @lordgrimwing @jaz-the-bard @niennawept @glorf1ndel @raointean @thesummerestsolstice & anyone else who wants to play!

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

One of a kind

Elrond x reader. This is a modern AU!

This fic is dedicated to @montyc @lady-of-imladris and @sotwk. You guys rock!!

*****

The small bookstore, situated in the oldest part of the city and semi-hidden between a laundromat and a grocery store, is a decidedly peculiar place. No volumes with brightly coloured covers arranged in alphabetical order or grouped by topic on the shelves, no new releases put on display on the front window, no section reserved to academic texts or books for children. It is a tiny, dusty space, with tomes of all sorts, sizes and shapes (!) piled in the corners or spread over tables; some look like they have not been touched for years, or are barely legible. It looks more like a pawn shop or a flea market than a bookstore, but the unassuming, modest appearance hides a veritable treasure cove: the store deals with rare and antique books, including many unique pieces, some of which are worth as much as the rent of a four rooms apartment. You adore it, and adore spending hours browsing around: you have been studying, and working with, old books ever since you were a girl, and in the bookstore you have found many precious volumes to add to your private collection; were it for you, you would never leave.

The sole downside of the store is its owner…

In a cool, rainy fall afternoon, you are wandering about as usual, inspecting the hundreds of books all around you, some of which are even piled under the furniture, given the lack of space, protectively holding the loot of today against your chest: a book printed at the beginning of the last century, in mint conditions, that many experts in the field considered lost. You know already that the store owner will ask a high sum for it, but the book is well worth it.

As you continue your tour in the barely lit rooms, the old parquet crackling under your feet, you find yourself walking by the counter: the owner, behind it, is discussing with a young man with dark hair, who you briefly, almost reflexively, glance at… and find yourself unable to look away.

He looks roughly your age, with the slender, strong build you would expect from an athlete, short hair the colour of oak wood framing the sort of face you had only seen in centuries-old paintings: he is simply dressed -jeans, a soft sweater, dark boots- but there is something elegant, even refined, in him. You move a few, hopefully unseen, steps towards him, to better look at him under the soft light of the old chandelier… and your eyes fall on the book the man and the store owner are discussing about; it is sitting on the counter between them, and when you recognize it, your heart skips a beat or four.

“So… how much could it be worth in your opinion, sir?” the man asks, his polite tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Hmm, let’s see...” the owner answers with the condescending tone you are used to, but still dislike “It is in fairly good conditions. I’d say… a hundred.”

The book you had chosen almost slips from your hands. A hundred?!?!

“So little?” the man asks, disappointment evident on his fair face “It is antique, I thought...”

“So it is, but what makes a book valuable is its rarity, not so much its age. This edition of your book was printed in more than five thousand copies, which significantly reduces its worth.”

“Oh.”

The man sighs, visibly saddened. “I see. A hundred is fine.”

The two men, engrossed in their conversation, pay you no mind, and you wait until the store owner has opened a drawer under the counter to take the money before making your move.

“If I may interrupt.” you intervene in your sweetest tone as you approach; the store owner glares at you.

“What do you want?”

“Simply to take a look at the book, if the gentleman allows.” you explain before addressing him directly “Do you mind? I am a bibliographer, and antique and rare books are exactly my field of study.”

“Of course.” he readily answers as he turns towards you, and for a moment you feel your heart tremble because of the soft, clever but kind look of his dark eyes, pink lips opening in a friendly smile; he is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people you have met in a long time, attractive enough to leave you speechless for a moment, but the weight of the book he is offering you in your hands quickly brings you back to attention. It is as you thought: a copy of The Annals of the Beleriand printed at the very beginning of the last century. And it is in perfect conditions!

“I had not seen one of these for years!” you exclaim, as usual unable to hide your excitement when a rare book is concerned “May I ask how you came by this?”

“It is part of the book collection we inherited from our parents.” the man explains; he has sensed your interest, and looks at you hopefully “Do you think it is worth more than a hundred?”

“I’d say! Normally, two hundreds would be a fair price for a book from this period, but for a particularity: it is said that the warehouse where the copies of this edition were kept was set aflame on the night before the books were supposed to be transferred and put on the market.”

“You are saying the books burnt?”

“I am; the fire very nearly spread to the whole street, according to an old newspaper article I read. Anyway, only six copies were said to have survived; including this, and another one which is in my possession.” you explain with satisfaction, and then offer your sweetest smile to the store owner, who has gone red in the face with anger and irritation “I am sure our friend here was unaware of this little detail, otherwise he would have never offered you such a modest sum.”

The dark-haired man’s smile, already aware you saved him from being swindled, grows even larger, and grateful; there is no need for words, and in a moment, you have allied against the owner. “And since you are clearly an expert on the subject, what price do you think I should accept?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

Ah! “I would say...” dramatic pause “A thousand.”

It is ten times the sum the man was going to accept, had you not intervened, and this makes him gasp with joy; the bookstore owner, on the other hand, looks on the verge of a heart attack.

“Of course, if the gentleman here cannot afford to offer such a figure, I know a few people who…”

“No, no, just a second!” the owner protests “The book’s conditions are not so satisfactory after all. I think seven hundred is…”

“A thousand.” your new friend interrupts him, still polite but clearly determined not to accept less than what he could ask for “Either a thousand or the deal is over.”

It is with great pleasure that you observe as the owner takes the agreed sum out of the drawer and rudely puts it in the hands of the client; on his request, he also writes a receipt for the sale.

“I’d like to buy this instead.” you state then, handing the man the book you had chosen, and your credit card “I think four hundred is a fair price.”

The owner glares at you; if looks could kill, friends and family would be already gathered to cry on your tomb. “It’s not up to the client to decide the price. Six hundred.”

“Four hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred, all right.” he finally relents with a sigh, while you mentally pat yourself on the back; this is a fair price, and the one you had intention to pay from the start. You put the book in your bag, while the man next to you does the same with his money.

“Goodbye and thank you!” you say almost as one to the owner, still glaring at you both while he looks at the man open the door and let you pass first.

Once you are both outside, the dark-haired man smiles at you, full of joy and relief. “If we were a couple of teenagers, I would now high-five you.” he confesses “But since we are both adults, I’ll limit myself to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your help.”

“It was a real pleasure.” you sincerely answer, while impulsively you offer his your hand “I am (full name).”

“Elrond Peredhel. Pleased to meet you.”

Elrond’s hand -the grasp firm but not painful, the fingers long and elegant… and naked, you cannot help but noticing, with no wedding or engagement ring on sight- shakes yours; the gaze of his dark eyes is so intense it makes you shiver… and the sensation is not at all unpleasant.

“How may I repay you?”

“There is no need, really; I can’t stand those who take advantage of other people’s ingenuity.”

“I agree, but thanks to you I earned ten times what I would have otherwise. May I at least buy you dinner?”

He is not asking you out, unfortunately, but you like his approach, the ability to recognize he is in debt without humbling himself; he has a self-confident, but not proud, bearing, this young man you find yourself liking more with each passing minute. Who knows, maybe he has other books to sell, and in that case you could meet again at the store…

“Thank you, but I really can’t accept.” you answer, forcing yourself not to take advantage of his generosity “Dinner would be far too much…”

“A drink, then?” Elrond insists, a friendly smile softening the insistence in his words “Wherever you wish.”

By now you can’t help smiling; why not, after all?, you ask yourself; he’s offering, and all you ask is to enjoy his attention for a while. “All right; if you are sure, thank you.”

You decide on a nearby pub. It has started raining, and Elrond covers both with his umbrella as you walk towards it, his boots and your sneakers advancing side by side on the wet cobblestone.

“You are a regular at the bookstore, I gathered.”

“I really am. The owner hates me, and the only thing stopping him from shutting the door in my face is the fact that I am his best customer, and I have brought many others to the store. It really is the best place in town when it comes to rare and antique books, which is why I put up with him.” you explain with a sigh, and Elrond smiles.

“Well, all the better for me.”

You reach the pub five minutes later, and soon you and Elrond are sitting at one of the round, lacquered tables; as a perfect gentleman, he lets you order first.

“Forgive me if I say so, but a thousand seems like an absurd sum for a book.”

“I understand you’re surprised, but believe me, that is a pretty standard price for what I usually deal with, and I have seen many volumes sold for much higher prices.” you eagerly explain; you like to talk about your job, especially when the interlocutor is clearly interested in what you have to say “Last year, a first edition of The Red Book of Westmarch was sold for a hundred thousand. And that is not the most striking case.”

“Hmm…”

Elrond sips his drink as he reflects on your words. “Would you be able to assess the value of any rare book? And to put the owner in touch with a potential buyer?” he inquires in the end.

“Of course, with a little time at my disposal.” you proudly answer “I know many collectors and bibliophiles, and even a few auction houses. Why, you have other treasures to sell?”

Elrond’s expression turns serious, almost circumspect, as he takes a notebook out of his bag, opens it and then offers it to you. “I think I can trust you.” he states, and you are taken aback at how proud, and sincerely happy, you feel because of that assessment “Here, tell me what you think.”

Listed on the pages of the notebook in a small and elegant calligraphy, under the title Ada’s books are more than a hundred volumes; of each, Elrond has neatly listed the title, the year of publication, the editor and the conditions - mostly perfect or very good.

And what a list! You feel your eyes widen as you scroll down the page and realize the content of this notebook is a veritable treasure cave. First editions, novels in languages that were only printed once, signed copies… if they are all, or even just half of them, genuine -which you can’t assume, no matter how friendly and handsome Elrond is; like any bibliographer, you are by now an expert in recognizing a forgery, and you can’t count the times the masterpiece you thought you had discovered was actually not even twenty years old- this is a discovery worth to be shown to all the experts in the field, and even to be exhibited.

“So? What do you think?” Elrond anxiously asks, and you make sure to look at him in the eyes before answering.

“I feel as if I had opened a cookie box and found all three Silmarils inside.”

His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, come on…!”

“I am deadly serious, Elrond. This list… some volumes on it are first editions, and a few must be rare enough to be classified as almost impossible to find. There is at least a title, maybe two, for which a single copy was thought to exist until now! Eru… it is a veritable fortune! We are talking of very sizeable sums, if you were to sell them.”

“Please! Lower your voice!” Elrond urges you, discretely looking all around him.

“Sorry, sorry. It is just…”

You swallow the rest of your drink in a gulp; you are so excited that the hand holding the glass is shaking.

“I am sorry; when it comes to rare books, I lose the sense of moderation like some women do in a clothing boutique; I really am obsessed. My mother says this is why I am still single.” you admit, making him laugh “How did you come by this… collection?”

Elrond explains that his ancestors have bought rare books for decades, and that through the generations the collection, by now of considerable size and richness, was bequeathed to him and his twin brother Elros. Then, the expression of your new friend turns sad.

“Our parents were… taken from us when we were very young. We were kidnapped, in a sense, and then we were informed they had died.” he explains, catching you a bit off-guard; you can’t see how that tragedy is linked to the book collection, but that doesn’t prevent you from offering him your sincere condolences.

“I am so sorry, Elrond; it’s… it’s a terrible thing to experience, especially when one is so young.”

“It was. Now we are older, and we manage just fine, except… my brother fell ill, six months ago; very ill, enough that for a while we thought he would not… anyway, there is a cure that has a good probability to restore his health, but it is costly. Very costly - too much for me, and none of our friends can help in a way that would really matter.”

Even with the relatively good news of the cure, taking care of his brother has clearly taken a toll on Elrond; his sad, scared and still brave smile talks of a man who has spent more than one sleepless night wondering how to save the life of the only family he has left. Poor, poor Elrond, you think as you feel your heart break for him; you have already taken a liking to him, to his sweet smile and expressive dark eyes, but this poor man is dealing with problems you would not wish on your worse enemy, and that are taking a toll more on his mental equilibrium than on his economic situation.

“I am so sorry, Elrond.” you whisper; instinctively, and even though you have never been used to physical contact with people you have barely met, your hand finds his arm on the table, and gently squeezes it in consolation “I took care of my father for years before… before he left; I know how painful it is.”

“Thank you, (name). But there is no need for condolences; Elros will live, I know, I only need to help him, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to in order to give him just one more chance. To sell our family’s book collection was a tough decision -all of it, should it be necessary- considering it is one of the few things we have left of our father, but my brother comes before everything else.”

Elrond smiles. “Thanks to you, that copy of the Annals will pay for two months of his therapy; so thank you, (name), thank you so much.”

You tell him you are happy you could help, especially now that you know what he will use the money for. “Maybe… maybe I could do something else.” you tentatively add, suddenly shy for a reason you can’t fully comprehend but determined to support Elrond in any way you can, for no reason but the need to make sure his brother receives the best of care, and the love and the concern you see in his dark eyes. “Could I borrow this list? Or could you make me a copy?”

“Why?”

“Even at first glance it is clear that you are in possession of a veritable gold mine in books, but I would like to do a throughout research on a few of this volumes. I need to consult a few database and maybe with one or two colleagues, and check with the auction houses to see what price we -you- could realistically hope to sell at, because sometimes simply there is no one willing, or able, to pay a fair price. You could tell me if there are volumes you would be more inclined to sell, or what sum you need for Elros’ next cycle of therapy, and I would do my best to find a buyer. What do you think?”

Elrond doesn’t think much, at the moment, judging by his overwhelmed expression. “I… I had thought about bringing one or two volumes at a time at the bookstore…”

“You could; but as you have seen, the store owner is the last person you could expect a fair payment from; if you let an expert -which I am, false modesty aside- help you, you will be sure no one is taking advantage of you.”

“And you could help me? You would?”

“Of course.” you reassure him with a smile “This is what I do. I usually take a percentage of each sale I help arrange, but don’t worry, I am relatively cheap - ehm, my fee is.”

You would be tempted to add you can repay me taking me out to dinner or something like that, but you don’t; even in jest it would be offensive, given what Elrond told you regarding his brother, and you have seen enough of him to know already he would be terribly embarrassed by your proposal. It would be highly inappropriate… for now, at least, and regardless of whether he would be inclined to accept or not. Who knows...

A quick telephone number and e-mail address exchange later, Elrond promises to send you a copy of the list before the end of the day, and you to get down to work as soon as he does.

“Meeting you was a gift from above, (name).” Elrond says “I am sorry you had to waste a whole afternoon because of me.”

“Believe me, I was happy to help.” you answer, as sincere as you have never been before, while you leave the pub together, under a sky devoid of clouds, the blue almost blinding “And I had nothing else to do, to be honest. I have walked my dog this morning and I, uhm, I am not married, you know, and so...”

“Well, all the better for me.” Elrond says, and then, realizing the implications, he blushes a fiery red “I mean… otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to consult you, and...”

He’s stammering, but he smiles when he sees you do the same, and finds again the polite, self-assured attitude you have already witnessed while he spoke to the bookstore owner; you have dealt with your fair share of rare books, you suddenly reflect, but he is the first real one of a kind you have ever encountered. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get home, (name).” he promises.

“Amazing. You’ll hear from me very soon, I promise.”

He hesitates for a moment -he is still blushing- and then kisses you on the cheek, his touch as delicate as a sparrow’s wing. You depart, stopping just once to look at Elrond’s elegant, slender form walking away, and then you set off for home, feeling happy for reasons that have nothing to do with the antique book stored in your bag.

Tagging as usual @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

[beifong-brainrot]

Tlok Lord of the rings au because i'm squishing my hyperfixations together like a crazy lil 5 year old.

Korra- I'd say dwarf... she matches the stereotypical dwarf personality to a T. Notoriously stubborn, loyal and hardy. The most resistant to the corruption of evil as well. Also, controversial opinion... out of the Krew, Korra deserves a beard most. Also. Give her an axe. Or a sledgehammer. Let her wreak havoc. I think her family would come from Khazad-dûm and be directly related to the line of Durin. Though I feel like she'd reside in the Blue Mountains and unlike most of her kin, she'd have an appreciation for water and the sea.

Asami- Elf. Elf. With her glorious hair and agility??? Hell yeah. She'd be descended from the Avari and live in Mirkwood. I think the moral ambiguity and hostility of the Mirkwood elves touches nicely on Asami's original role as a villain. Also coming from such a combative area would have her learning combat as well, if even better, than her canon counterpart.

Also korrasami would be super cute as a dwarf/elf relationship lol. Korra's already canon shortie. And it would replicate their little rivalry in season 1. Just instead of fighting over Mako, they're fighting over centuries of mutual racial animosity.

Bolin and Mako - ok. Im getting real controversial here. Hobbits. Fucking hobbits. Now. Hear me out. More Brandybuck/Took coded hobbits I'd say. Probably grown up in Bree... tiny orphans in a big world. So sad.

Bolin is an easy pick. Although he's pretty big and bulky, his character has a lot in common with typical hobbits. Not a coincidence that my two fave characters are him and Samwise Gamgee... I love my dirt himbos. Bolin has that gentle, cheerful hobbit vibes. And he likes food too lol.

Mako also has hobbit vibes, I'd argue. However he has a lot of that hobbit typical caution ans suspicion towards the outside world. I could see him valuing a home and prosperity...give this man a hobbit hole He's so stressed he deserves it.

Tenzin, Kya and Bumi. - half elves, Rivendel. Tenzin is basically Elrond, ok? Bumi chose humanity good for him. Kai is the scruffy human they adopted à la Aragorn.

Lin and the Beifongs- honestly was stumped at this one... but I kinda think humans, particularly Dúnedain of Arnor. A noble people, now acting as Rangers, protectors of the land... matches Lin, our favourite chief of police, huh?

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

   Despite knowing that the Hidden Valley was safe, his instincts had yet to settle. Not that anyone could blame the man after everything that he had been through. No-one had ever thought that they would lose Gilraen first. After all, most thought Arathorn would be the first to pass, given both his obvious handicap and his duty as a Ranger. But that was not to be.

  His slate grey eye did close but it wasn’t for long, as a confused squeal sounded from his side. He looked down, just in time to gently stop a flailing hand from hitting him. There was a small smile on his lips as the Ranger sorted out and then played with his son. But he never went off guard, so he noticed when footsteps came down the hallway towards the room.

  “Lord Elrond.” A faint half smile formed as Arathorn looked up from where he was keeping an eye on the wiggling child. He returned the greeting, before glancing back at his son- who was now contently chewing on his father’s sleeve. “It was touch and go for a bit because of this.” He touched the still fiery looking scars which went through his closed eye and down the left of his face.

“I.. apologise for the lack of warning but I didn’t know where else to go after Gilraen died.”

Reaching Out

For: Elrond | @malkuvoitenoldoran​ Muse: Arathorn Verse: What is Seen is Not Always what Lies Ahead | AU

  DAY and NIGHT; SUN and MOON; LIFE and DEATH; LIGHT and DARK.   Each keeps the other in CHECK, preventing the BALANCE from failing.   But when that balance is broken and you stand on a razor-sharp knife edge, 

  DO YOU ASK FOR HELP THAT MAY NEVER COME OR CUT YOURSELF OPEN AND          F                  A                           L                                    L                                            ?

  As both a Ranger and the current Chieftain of the Northern Dunedain, Arathorn had seen his fair share of Death. Caused by both his own hands and that of others, as well as Nature itself. He had also seen Life, new and old, but then that was not unusual when it came to the Wandering Men of the North. Killing had always been seen as a necessary evil when it came to his kin, one that he took no delight in doing. But rarely had much choice, lest darkness spread across the lands.

Keep reading

[wowstrawberrycow]

Roleplaying starter!⬇️

Elrond x Thranduil- modern AU similar to real world- raising little Legolas and Elrond's kids together

❌🎀18+ only! No Minors🎀❌

Warnings- PTSD dreaming, Death, Burn victim, Crossdressing, Dollification, Violence, Character trauma, Witch hunt, Discrimination trauma, LGBT discrimination trauma, Soft BDSM Lifestyle, Daddy/doll, Daddy kink, Hurt and comfort, Caregiver/doll

Hit me up if you're interested in this! This an emotional ride y'all!

Roleplay with me!💞 My starter for the story is right here!🥰⬇️

His heart ruptured and his battered face screamed upon having his soul ripped apart. Though, for all his screeching the deafening sound fell on no one. Discordant was his voice. Tears poured from his eyes. He remembered not what had wailed from his bleeding lips that were cut with his own teeth, save for the agonizing affliction that plagued his heart. Grotesque viscera splattered across his room. What little remains of his lover were scattered here and there in the soft flicker of the dying hearth. Freezing charges of death shocked straight through to his core. He had only just been aware of the bloodied stones that littered the floor and then the evidence of a cursed creature who seemed to be deliberately let loose inside his once lovely home. Thranduil collapsed, howling at the sight of one of his lovers' partially eaten limbs beside where he sat. His wrenching stomach could not handle the sight, thus its contents were sprayed across the floor. Then a new dawning of terror fell into his eyes.

“MY BABY! WHERE’S MY BABY!” his blood curdling squeal could be heard outside his home. He feared the worst. “ LEGOLAS! WHERE’S MY LITTLE LEAF! I NEED MY BABY!” Scrambling to his feet made no difference, but still he wrangled himself against the men who inevitably restrained him.Drawing each of his swords he cut them down one by one valiantly with tears streaming down his disturbed face. “WHERE’S MY BABY GODDAMNIT!” he screamed fighting for his elflings life. His sight soon faded.

With half lidded eyes he had felt hash splintered remains of pine at the pads of his fingers. A breeze caught itself against Thranduil’s naked body. Jeering of a taunting crowd surrounded him.He clearly was no longer in his cell of burning iron bars. His trial was swift as they usually were in those days. Though he wasn’t sure why they tried him when his lover was murdered with none. Perhaps it was because Thranduil was born a male? Those born outside of that demographic were not so lucky. His husband was one such soul. He was cursed to live a lie existing as a female. His only grace that came from that wretched body was now lost. Thranduil’s pride and joy was likely murdered that night too. It was then that sparks flew. The bittersweet smell of oak and pines combusted at an agonizing pace. The crackle of snapping twigs echoed through his ears like cannon blasts. For the moment he had no time to weep as his breath was stolen by evil relentless smoke. That soon changed. Rising flames reached his body, melting his skin away like butter. Inaudible screams erupted from his throat. His vision blackened.

Blindness took him, once moving he let out a loud yelp of pain. An infant's cry fired off. “Legolas! My baby! Is that my baby!?” Thranduil thrashed, feeling pain over take him into exhaustion. “WHERE’S MY SWEET BABY BOY!” the man cried loudly.

“I’ve got him. He’s right here. Hold still. You have to hold still. He’s safe I promise.” Elrond spoke urgently, pinning the invalid Thranduil down. He drew Legolas closer to his mother’s hand.

Thranduil felt around for the innocent little love then grabbed his tiny hand. “ I swear, I will not ever let anything like this happen to you. For as long as I breathe I will keep you safe little one.”

Thranduil’s eyes shot open from fitful slumber with sweat pouring from his entire self. His silken sheet stuck to his body causing unsettling shivers to creep over his skin. With darting eyes he desperately attempted to catch his breath when he sat up to finally see he was sitting in his room. He closed his eyes, pushing his hands down into the cushion of his hybrid mattress. The comfort of his modern setting did little for his heavy heart. Nights had always proven difficult for him to deal with since those days. The darkness felt like a desolate void ready to devour. Peering into the nothingness around him caused his breath to hitch. He touched his scared face with hyperventilating breaths. Gasping in panic he scrambled for the light. Devouring darkness was finally banished along with the ill things dwelled there: such as despair, haunting reflections, and crippling doubt.

His tightened chest threatened his breathing. Shallow breaths blurred his vision. Scampering to the shower he allowed the water to cleanse his body of sweat. With careful precision he was able to focus just enough to regain the glamor that concealed his past. With an aching need to feel beautiful he raided his hidden makeup drawers and large walk in closet. Seeking a way to separate him from ugly truths in his life he administered gorgeous makeup of sweet glittery pinks over his eyes, perfect winged liner, fanned lashes and burgundy lips. After dressing in a silky pale pink nightgown he felt nothing. He stared at his reflection for what seemed like an eternity, deeply needing something. What it was, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed it. While he eyed his phone he remembered his rules. With tapping feet and trembling fingers he sat waiting. He toiled with spaghetti straps and the gown's lacy edging while he quickly sent a text to his Lover.

Thrandy💄- Daddy.... I'm feeling it again... I've tried dealing with it alone, but I can't this time. I even followed your instructions....

Daddy ✨- I'm sorry you're dealing with that again dear. Sit yourself by the door and I'll be right over. Give me a call if you feel like doing something you'll regret.

Thrandy💄- Yes Daddy.

Broken out of his foreboding thoughts, he gasped hearing his phone finally buzz.

Daddy✨ - I'm at the door sweetie.

Thranduil dashed as quickly as he could, reaching for the door. Upon seeing Elrond standing there in front of him he bent down clinging to the man. Thranduil stammered uncharacteristically with shaking shoulders, "I tried ... I really did... I'm sorry for dragging you out here in the middle of the night. You didn't have to... I know it's late..." his breath hitched seemingly causing ripples that spread through his body. His limbs began to tremble as his eyes still glazed over with gruesome visions of his past. ”Please rescue me…. Like you did that day…Rescue me…”