#warden-of-lorien

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

[aotearoa20]

To Return - Part One

// Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

Barring the twins, it was Celegorm who was released first. Once people learned of his return he’d assumed most would be surprised. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t be were still in the Halls. It mattered little really, for he was here now.

He peered down the sliver lit corridors of the new dwellings of the Doriathrim. Beautiful and odd. New was perhaps a poor description. The forest had been given to the Returned Sindar long ago, ruled by Dior as his grandfather now resided in Lorien with his wife.

The Sindar build their homes in response to the forest they were in and there were no trees like these in Beleriand. Celegorm thought he was rather selfish in his relief. He doesn’t know how he’d be if this place looked much more like Doriath.

There were certainly less guards than before. The coast was clear as he slipped across the empty hall and out the window.

A breeze hit his face and he relaxed almost instantly. The trees had been his enemies on the way in, nosy messengers all to happy to whisper of his intrusion to the king. He had to bribe several of them as wells as a fair few birds and a particularly persistent fox. Even so he was almost certain he was watching eyes were observing him throughout the entire heist.

Either way he was free now. He could walk along the branches with ease, the cloak about his shoulders hiding his identity, perhaps even his presence more than well enough. The song still weaved into its making made him feel nauseous, as he pulled the hood over his head. A final jab from the elf-witch and honestly he appluaded her consistency.

He kept in the trees for as long as he dared, though high enough to avoid the usual traffic between the branches. The some of quiet conversation brought him to a halt in the shadow of the leaves. Even his eyes took a minute to spot two elves sitting and laughing in hushed voices amiss the tips of the branches.

He took a long breath and another before marching smoothly past them unobserved.

It was not until he heard the sound of the alarm that he began to descend near the edges of the forest and that is what caught him. A snare well hidden in vines and dappled light. Almost sentient as it wrapped around his ankles and strung him up with a muffled cry.

He could hear, above the blood rushing to his head, a growling laughter. But when he swung around he found to his surprise not a smug elf guard grinning down at him from the branches but one of the Ainur.

“It’s been a while Celegorm,” the Maia said.

Celegorm frowned as he squinted up at him. It had been a very long time since he was last in Valinor but his memory was not lost in the Halls.

“Do I know you?”

The creature pouted as he pushed himself of the branch, coming to crouch beside his face. Soft brown eyes seemed to stare right through to his fëa and drew an ache from his chest.

“You don’t recognise me?” he said.

“No,” Celegorm swallowed hard as he spoke, “I’ve never seen you before.”

The Maia scoffs.

The sound of the approaching March wardens was beginning to become worrisome. He couldn’t be caught. Not yet.

“Will you let me down?” He ground the panic out of his voice.

“Tell me my name first.”

“I do not know you!”

Celegorm tried to curl up so that his arms could reach the knot of the the trap but his new body was far too untrained. With much struggle and the sort of strength that came with fear his fingers brushed the rope. Only to be cuffed in the stomach by the Maia.

He growled and swiped at him but the he stepped away deftly and leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree. He stared down at him seemingly indifferent though the glint of his eyes held an unfair amount hurt.

“You are of the Hunt, of Orome’s people” he snapped and the creature nodded.

The Hunter’s Maiar often took on predatory characteristics. Talons, claws and teeth. They saw no reason to limit their forms to in one design, taking the best and most useful in their eyes of the children of both Eru and Yavanna. There was a time he was teased for his singularly elven features. He’d laughed and called them all lazy. This one seemed to have taken mostly after a wolfhound.

“Did you run with Tillion,” he asks for his sliver grey hair but the creature clicked his tongue and shook his head in a way that was almost Noldorin. The strange unease that had been building all the greater in his gut suddenly reared its head. And all the while the guards drew nearer, their footsteps no longer whispers among the trees but close enough for even untrained ears to catch.

“Celegorm you call me.” he whispered though he didn’t know why.

“It is your name.”

“None of the Ainuir have called me that since my return, you knew me in Beleriand”

“Clever little one.”

“Turko, he’s massive.” 

“Yes, but he’s still only a pup!” 

Tyelkormo stuck his tongue at his brother and tossed a treat in the air. The wolfhound leap to grab, landing with his big paws and dragging them both to the ground. 

Celegorm blinked. His face went carefully and fearfully blank. He couldn’t panic. He can’t panic. The guards are here.

“It’s for Káno, I need to get him back without being seen.”

The Maia’s expression softened.

“Let me bring him back to our mother, then the boy-king may do as he wishes with me, whatever punishment I will bear it, but please I must do this first.”

His mouth was dry and he could not say it. To do so would make a wild though a reality and he couldn’t…

“There!”

He heard a shout and the drawing of bow strings.

“Please, Huan.”

The words had barely left his lips as the Maia surges forward and cut the cord. He tried not to groan as he fell to the ground with all the grace of a newborn bird.

The shouts of soldiers ring in his ear but he barely has time to reach for the tangled wire around his feet when he find himself lifted up. His hands move on instinctively around the Maia’s neck and he pushes back his confusion to bury his head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t know what exhaustion overtook him so suddenly but before they left the trees, his eyes drew closed, resting in the arms of an old unlooked for friend.

[melpomaen]

A drunk Lindir a la asks 9 : “don’t shush me!”from @elithilanor

"Don't shush me, child!"

"You're being too loud! All of Lorien will hear you."

"So let them!" Lindir gestures wildly toward the window, the little wine left in his cup threatening to jump the rim. "My kinsmen should be glad to hear my voice. Varda knows they love the sound of my name on their lips."

"I think we have to at least pretend to be mature about it." Maenod says.

The point is lost almost as soon as it's made, Maenod's composure shattering when Lindir's face twists up in disdain.

"I am old enough to be your father, you know."

"Everyone is old enough to be my father!"

"Grandfather then. At any rate, you'll change your tune when it's 'Rúmil' and 'Maenod' on everyone's tongues." Lindir tuts. "Don't think you're so unknown. In fact, you and your dandelions already have a reputation."

"My dandelions? What's wrong with my dandelions?"

"Ai, what was it that I overheard?" Lindir hums, feigning contemplation until Maenod is waiting on the edge of his seat. "Something along the lines: 'Now we know the true measure of Rúmil's fondness for him, to suffer having his hair all pinned up with weeds–' "

"Weeds!?" Maenod cries, jumping from his seat. "They're a fine and noble flower!"

Lindir's laughter rings out from the talan as he topples from his perch on the divan, the crash audible from the forest below. He resigns himself to the floor, helpless to the sight of his friend's incensed hopping.

"Reportedly," Lindir manages to wheeze. "Your warden replied the same."

"He had better!" Maenod snaps. "Alas! Weeds! Their elanors can thank my weeds for moving the soil their gentile roots can't reach."

Maenod throws up his hands, unable to find the words to express his discontent.

"Weeds, Lindir!"

"Aye!"

"Fucking ridiculous." The scribe mutters, dropping back down into his chair.

"Careful now. All of Lorien will hear you."

"All of Lorien shall suffer me until my weeds are given their due respect!"

"How Noldorin of you."

"It's bullshit, is what it is."

"So we've come to an agreement." Lindir snorts. "And then remember, where my name is concerned the Galadhrim gossip about far more than my taste in flowers!"

--

#43 from this drabble prompt list.

@elithilanor

[wareagleofthemountain]

Modern!Lorien boys HC! Assuming that Wardens are the equivalent of police officers, Orophin pulls Caladwen over often when he sees her car on the road, flashing his lights and asking “do you know why I pulled you over?” all seriously even if she’s done nothing wrong. Just so he can talk her ear off for a few minutes because he’s bored on a slow day.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

I posted 19,326 times in 2022

That's 15,609 more posts than 2021!

1,670 posts created (9%)

17,656 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-did-not-mean-to

@arofili

@lordoftherazzles

@blueberryrock

@eunoiaastralwings

I tagged 4,382 of my posts in 2022

#idnmt answers - 1,241 posts

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Longest Tag: 140 characters

#the tantalising ambivalence of the stinging cold and the tender touch of his tongue would tickle and arouse this delicate skin – too enchant

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

October 26th

Cuddles

Ah...@mismaeve, here we have my own - very tame - version of Thranduil.

He's a favourite with anon requesters and so, I thought I'd include him in the line-up.

Lots of love from me...

Words: 452

Warnings: innuendo

See the full post

208 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#4

Slipping through my fingers all the time...

@sorisooyaa & @eunoiaastralwings

Here we go...

Done by the amazing @mysandwichranaway, here is Nerdanel holding her firstborn son, long after he was a size anywhere near appropriate for being picked up!!!

Aren't they beautiful???

Would you look at all that hair too? Gorgeous!!!

Please reblog and spread the word about my friend's talent!!! Commissions are open regularly (go check their profile & treat yourself)! I've been informed that they'll be open after the 20th of this month!

208 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

#3

I'm all about sappy love story for haldir. just don't tell leggy! "Imagine being Elrond's youngest and journeying to Lorien for the first time and falling in love with the charming March Warden Haldir"

Imagine from @imaginexhobbit

With love and thanks -🌙

Hey anon, sorry this took me so long :(

I have never written for Haldir, so please forgive me if it's terrible...(but there's an Easter Egg in it for all the Elf-lovers out there)

Starlight

Words: 1.9 k

Characters: Haldir x reader

Warnings: nothing (at least I hope)

You were entirely unimpressed – this far – with the fabled forest of Lothlórien.

Tired and hungry, you struggled to keep your countenance as smooth and dignified as your dear “father”’s, but – judging by the tutting of your guard-dog – you were not doing the best job.

Elrond had of course had millennia to perfect the gentle expression that hid annoyance and mockery like the morning fog veiled the treacherous crevices in the rocks you used to climb as a youngling.

You were still trying to set your own face into a semblance of decorum when the whole party stopped; it was not abrupt or brusque – Elves flowed, they floated, they hovered gracefully – but you had not been paying attention and – unbeknownst to anybody else – you flinched internally at your lack of perspicacity.

“Milady,” a gentle voice resounded, and you looked up to see a man – armoured and armed – bow slightly, “My name is Haldir and I am to escort you to the Lady of Light.”

Everything about the man was so pale that he looked positively unripe, you thought, intrigued by the silver hue every single thing in sight – the patient stranger included – seemed to have in this enchanted wood.

“My lady,” that strangely exotic apparition greeted you, bowing deeply and introducing himself as something called a ‘March Warden’ – you knew not if he warded the marching or if he was a warden on the march – to which you merely nodded sheepishly.

He was – upon further inspection – a charming creature, somewhere between the ethereal veil of morning mist and the solidity of silver, shining bright in the enchanted gleam filling the air.

As a guest of honour, you were taken to a spacious room in which you washed away the dust from the travel and – finally – found yourself standing on a small balcony overlooking the high trees glimmering as if the stars were attached to their branches like tiny lamps.

You wondered about that stranger who had greeted you with so much reverence and almost shy friendliness; his eyes had been warm and kind despite their frosty colour and his smile had promised a sweetness that was golden more than crystalline.

Everything around you seemed so cold in hue and in décor and yet, that one man had been enough for the heat to linger permanently in your cheeks.

“What are you dreaming of, child?” a voice resounded behind you – mysterious queen, mother-in-law of the one who had taken you in like a father, angelic being – Lady Galadriel was starlight captured in the pristine glass shrine of the fairest woman ever beheld by your humble eyes.

Didn’t she know?

Soundlessly, she floated closer, her gaze following yours and her smile broadening when you tensed upon seeing that Elf you had been thinking about so tirelessly for the last hours appear.

Unlike his Mistress, Haldir moved quickly and purposefully, and you wondered where he was headed.

���The March Warden?” her tone was soft as a summer breeze and held a playful note that surprised you in one so old and stately.

“Milady,” you stammered, unsure what to say.

“I am not certain Elrond would thank me if I let my warden claim his ward,” she chuckled under her breath; the sound was like a complex song rippling through the still air and driving shivers down your spine.

“Although,” a slender finger was pressed against a perfectly shaped chin in an expression of thoughtfulness, “that would teach him.”

“What do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, overwhelmed by her presence.

See the full post

220 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

#2

Sorry if this is a bit too specific: legolas marries the readers on the request of his father and a lord. Reader thinks it's ok .. they can work it out, but decades pass and they have never been intimate and watches the lingering glances he has towards tauriel. But she keeps trying to get his attention, but when legolas decided to run after tauriel during the DOS she runs away leaving a letter and wedding ring behind. Legolas admits to Tauriel he loved her cause of everything she had done for him after BOTFA, but tauriel is absolutely confused saying that was never her. Legolas horrified coming to realise it was all the reader's doing, he tries deny it first but out of shock and thranduil almost shouts at him to open his eyes and see the truth. So when legolas returns and sees the letter and ring left behind, he sets out to find her again 🤔 and does he? Fluff ending? Up to you, because i marvel at how you write and bring a story to a close .. that is not heavy on the mind.

- Thank you and sorry for being very specific. Change it along if it easier for yourself. You are the writer and I'm your simple requester with an idea too big and a writing too rough and small 🤪

Dear anon, this was indeed very specific...

So, to keep the suspense up, I'll do this in two parts :D

Vows - Part I

Words: 1,1 k

Warning: Marital problems, pain, hint at infidelity (emotional)

The news of your impending betrothal had come one sunny morning and – obedient to a fault – you didn’t even think it necessary to agree explicitly.

It was, after all, a great honour to be married to the prince of the woodland realm – a young Elf so charming and handsome that many a maiden would have killed to be in your shoes – according to the express wishes of both the king and your eminent father.

The fact that you did not know Legolas or had ever spoken to him beyond the courteous exchanges that were both usual and expected in your circles did not dissuade you from believing that everything would work out fine.

You were – in a word – full of a faith that bordered on naïveté; while you had spent your youth in the protective cocoon of your parents’ love, Legolas had been raised to be a warrior and a royal, but you were convinced that you’d find common ground eventually.

Your wedding was a very formal affair – much to your disappointment – and you silently bemoaned the impossibility to find a single quiet moment to get to know your betrothed a little better.

At all times, there was some kinsman, subject, or friend interrupting and pulling away your newly minted husband to drink with them or exchange news pertaining to subjects hardly meant for the sensitive ears of a porcelain court doll.

It hurt you to admit it, but you felt utterly and miserably lonely at your own wedding and still, you had faith in your marriage.

You had been born and bred to be a wife; you knew that you could be a good one and Legolas struck you as a gentle soul you could even grow to care for.

That night, and every night after though, he would refrain from joining you in your marital chamber. You knew not whence he left until – months later – you followed him discreetly and found out that he would sit in a tree until morning light.

No doubt, this was hardly restful!

The years crept by slowly; you grew used to that presence at your side that was so much like the sun and the moon: ever there and yet impossible to touch.

Your husband turned out to be mild and very kind; he would make pleasant conversation with you at banquets and formal dinners, but he never actively sought out your presence when you were alone – reading or watching the stars – in your private quarters.

Moreover, you were not blind to the lingering looks he would lavish on that red-haired Elven guard – Tauriel – and you couldn’t help the incessant, voracious growth of the grapevines of envy and jealousy that slowly choked the life out of your heart.

Legolas knew that he was doing you wrong.

At first, he had resented the meddlesome attitude of his father upon learning that a bride – a total stranger – had been selected for him and the fact that you had meekly agreed to that devious plot did not inspire great trust in him either.

He was aware of his social standing of course and he was afraid that it had merely been his title and not his person that had swayed a young lady of the court to accept the proposal made in his name and without his knowledge.

Upon seeing you though, he had to admit that you were indeed of a rare beauty, but your obedient, gentle demeanour still rubbed him the wrong way; he was relatively young and he desired to challenge and to be challenged in turn.

His heart had long been set on his friend – feisty, courageous, outrageous Tauriel – who made him feel as if he – as a person independently of his name and standing – had some inherent value.

Nonetheless, he could not deny that he felt guilty about having given his word – and his hand – in matrimony to a lady only to turn around and neglect her.

You acted so much like a merely decorative thing, sitting around like a perfect life-sized doll, that he found it a little too easy to discard you and pursue his own interests selfishly.

It was not even as if he didn’t like you; on the contrary, you were a great conversationalist and – being warm-hearted and kind – he did not doubt for a single second that you would be a great princess and – in time – maybe even queen to the realm.

Mindful of the safety and well-being of the subjects, you often spoke about concerns that sounded painfully dull to him.

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233 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You write our favorite elven king so good though! 😱. I want to request for maybe Celebrity/Royal meeting normal citizen? Legolas introducing the reader, his courtee who is human and from the modern world to his father. He met her during the journey to destroy the ring when she literally fell into middle earth and is stuck here? Shy reader who hides behind legolas -🌙

Dear Nonnie, I am so sorry I got this wrong the first time around...

(Here's the discarded story)

But...here's your story <3

Dresses

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: none

Characters: Legolas x Reader, Thranduil

“I should be wearing a dress,” you sighed, looking miserably at the reflection in the weirdly cloudy stream of the river.

Since you had practically fallen into a magical world with dragons and dwarves, you had been clad in hand-me-downs and borrowed garments that were ill-fitting at best and outright unflattering at worst.

“Why?” Legolas cocked his shapely head like one of the birds native to this enchanted forest – keeper of the history of the land – in an expression of his utter astonishment, “Whatever do you need a dress for?”

He thought about it for a moment and then, a slight hint of heat crept into his high, pale cheeks.

“Of course,” he exclaimed hastily, “you are uncomfortable in my breeches. Once you’ve seen my father, I shall send for the seamstress and you may have anything your heart desires!”

“Love,” you laid your hand on his forearm to forestall the flood of loving words about to pour forth, “it is not vanity that ails me. I…I just don’t think that dirty leggings are the right apparel when meeting a king.”

Your beloved – with whom you had braved dangers you could never have imagined in your previous life – smiled softly at that.

“Thranduil is a vain creature but he will never fault you for bearing the marks of an honest fight,” he assured you, waving – graceful as ever – at his own stained travel clothes. As if he wouldn’t be put in a bathtub and wrapped in silk and velvet before going to meet his eminent father, the king.

You walked on, the trees whispering around you as if they knew who was moving among them.

As the destination of your stroll came into view, your breath hitched in your throat; you had fought and scrambled – you had been forced to hit the ground running to avoid dying in a world where nobody would even know what name to put on the gravestone – but this was different.

War was the same in every universe and in every realm: it was a narrative written in blood, and – as a mere commoner, so much more common than the peasants in this world even – you had done as much as you could, never resting, never wondering why, never even taking the time to settle into this new place.

The only anchor you had was this ethereal creature almost floating by your side, a languid smile on his lips upon seeing his father’s halls once more; a part of Legolas – this much you knew for he had told you – had not expected ever laying eyes upon his home or his king again.

“I am a foreigner,” you whispered, every breath you drew more laboured and shivering than the one before.

“Everyone is,” Legolas replied lightly, “Thranduil is a breed apart, so to say, and you will not be stranger to him than a dwarf or a hobbit.”

“You say that,” you mumbled, not entirely convinced.

Of course, by now, you wore the clothes usual in this realm, you had a notion of the most important languages and could distinguish them even if you did not master them, you were used to the food and the weather, but that did not mean that you were ready for societal challenges such as meeting an elusive and mystical king.

“He is not only my king, ruler of my home realm,” Legolas impressed upon you, his warm hand grabbing yours and holding it gingerly, “he is also my father and so, he will be overjoyed to meet the one who stole my heart.”

When you didn’t reply, Legolas went on: “And he has seen battle…My sweet love, Thranduil has seen more of war than you could ever picture; he does not shrink from the sight of blood and dirt.”

He sighed.

You knew that his life had been a long one – compared to the average lifespan of those living in your world – and that, despite the centuries alive, Legolas was still ‘young’ to his own kin; the things you had seen, the skills he displayed, the knowledge and lore he had shared, all of this made it very hard for you to fathom how he could be considered green or inexperienced by his people.

Instead of assuaging your anxiety, the thought of his status as a sapling amongst trees, when he was a mountain amongst pebbles to you, only heightened your apprehension; his beloved father and venerated king would take one look at you and throw you out on your very mortal ass.

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304 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mtgvintage]

Proxy Decklists

MERFOLK:

1 Mana Crypt 1 Sol Ring 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Pearl 1 Mox Emerald 1 Black Lotus 1 Mental Misstep 1 Grafdigger's Cage 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Time Walk 1 Ancestral Recall 1 Mox Ruby 2 Lorien Revealed 3 Vexing Bauble 4 Force of Will 1 True-Name Nemesis 3 Vodalian Hexcatcher 4 Tishana's Tidebinder 4 Thieving Skydiver 4 Tide Shaper 4 Hullbreacher 1 Strip Mine 2 Otawara, Soaring City 4 Urza's Saga 4 Cavern of Souls 4 Island 4 Wasteland Sideboard 2 Null Rod 1 Pithing Needle 1 Karakas 2 Dismember 3 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale 3 Grafdigger's Cage 3 True-Name Nemesis

DIMIR CONTROL

2 Orcish Bowmasters 4 Psychic Frog 1 Time Vault 1 Manifold Key 1 Mox Emerald 1 Mox Ruby 1 Black Lotus 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Mox Pearl 1 Vexing Bauble 1 Sol Ring 4 Force of Will 3 Force of Negation 1 Ancestral Recall 1 Flusterstorm 1 Sink into Stupor 1 Mental Misstep 2 Spell Pierce 1 Dig Through Time 1 Vampiric Tutor 1 Repeal 1 Brainstorm 4 Lorien Revealed 1 Timetwister 1 Merchant Scroll 1 Time Walk 1 Gitaxian Probe 1 Treasure Cruise 1 Demonic Tutor 4 Urza's Saga 1 Dress Down 4 Wasteland 1 Strip Mine 4 Underground Sea 2 Polluted Delta 1 Island Sideboard 2 Flusterstorm 1 Lurrus of the Dream-Den 1 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale 1 Soul-Guide Lantern 1 Pithing Needle 2 Soul Rend 1 Fatal Push 1 Annul 1 Grafdigger's Cage 1 Null Rod 2 Steel Sabotage 1 Hurkyl's Recall

MUD:

4 Sphere of Resistance 1 Black Lotus 1 Chalice of the Void 2 Crucible of Worlds 1 Mana Crypt 4 Mishra's Workshop 1 Mox Emerald 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Pearl 1 Mox Ruby 1 Mox Sapphire 4 Nettlecyst 2 Null Rod 4 Patchwork Automaton 3 Phyrexian Metamorph 4 Phyrexian Revoker 1 Pithing Needle 4 Stonecoil Serpent 1 Strip Mine 1 Thorn of Amethyst 1 Tolarian Academy 1 Trinisphere 4 Urza's Saga 3 Vexing Bauble 1 Sol Ring 4 Wasteland 4 Ancient Tomb Sideboard 2 Null Rod 2 Dismember 3 Grafdigger's Cage 3 Mindbreak Trap 1 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale 4 Leyline of the Void

HATEBEAR:

1 Black Lotus 1 Mox Ruby 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Mox Emerald 1 Mox Pearl 1 Mox Jet 1 Sol Ring 1 Mana Crypt 1 Trinisphere 1 Chalice of the Void 1 March of Otherworldly Light 1 Lotus Petal 3 Chrome Mox 1 Solitude 1 Thalia, Guardian of Thraben 2 Anointed Peacekeeper 2 Boromir, Warden of the Tower 3 Dauntless Dismantler 4 White Plume Adventurer 4 Seasoned Dungeoneer 4 Witch Enchanter 4 Chancellor of the Annex 4 Archon of Emeria 1 Strip Mine 1 Karakas 2 Plains 4 Cavern of Souls 4 Wasteland 4 Ancient Tomb Sideboard 1 Kataki, War's Wage 4 Containment Priest 4 Null Rod 2 Mindbreak Trap 3 Swords to Plowshares 1 March of Otherworldly Light

OATH:

4 Atraxa, Grand Unifier 1 Black Lotus 1 Bolas's Citadel 1 Mana Crypt 1 Mox Emerald 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Pearl 1 Mox Ruby 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Null Rod 1 Sensei's Divining Top 1 Ancestral Recall 1 Brainstorm 1 Flash 1 Spell Pierce 1 Force of Negation 4 Force of Will 1 Mental Misstep 1 Mystical Tutor 1 Vampiric Tutor 1 Demonic Tutor 1 Gitaxian Probe 4 Show and Tell 2 Thoughtseize 1 Time Walk 1 Tinker 4 Oath of Druids 2 Oko, Thief of Crowns 1 Bayou 2 Boseiju, Who Endures 4 Forbidden Orchard 1 Island 3 Misty Rainforest 2 Polluted Delta 1 Strip Mine 2 Tropical Island 2 Underground Sea Sideboard 1 Null Rod 1 Force of Negation 1 Oko, Thief of Crowns 2 Abrupt Decay 1 Force of Vigor 1 Long Goodbye 1 Mindbreak Trap 1 Nature's Claim 1 Portal to Phyrexia 2 Serra's Emissary 1 Sphinx of the Steel Wind 1 Steel Sabotage 1 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale

DOOMSDAY:

1 Ancestral Recall 1 Black Lotus 1 Vampiric Tutor 1 Demonic Consultation 1 Mystical Tutor 4 Force of Will 4 Doomsday 2 Flooded Strand 2 Polluted Delta 1 Dig Through Time 1 Gitaxian Probe 1 Gush 1 Mental Misstep 2 Misty Rainforest 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Demonic Tutor 1 Necropotence 4 Street Wraith 4 Preordain 4 Dark Ritual 1 Island 2 Thassa's Oracle 1 Time Walk 1 Treasure Cruise 1 Undercity Sewers 4 Underground Sea 1 Brainstorm 4 Ponder 1 Force of Negation 3 Flusterstorm 2 Scalding Tarn Sideboard 2 Force of Negation 3 Leyline of the Void 2 Mindbreak Trap 1 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale 2 Psychic Frog 3 Steel Sabotage 2 Fatal Push

BESEECH THE STORM

1 Sheoldred, the Apocalypse 1 Mana Crypt 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Pearl 1 Black Lotus 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Mox Ruby 1 Mox Emerald 1 Sol Ring 1 Manifold Key 1 The One Ring 1 Lotus Petal 1 Bolas's Citadel 1 Sensei's Divining Top 1 Time Vault 1 Mental Misstep 1 Ancestral Recall 4 Force of Will 1 Chain of Vapor 1 Mystical Tutor 1 Vampiric Tutor 1 Brainstorm 2 Flusterstorm 4 Dark Ritual 1 Time Walk 4 Lorien Revealed 1 Tinker 1 Timetwister 1 Gitaxian Probe 1 Tendrils of Agony 1 Yawgmoth's Will 1 Demonic Tutor 4 Beseech the Mirror 4 Urza's Saga 1 Dress Down 1 Necropotence 1 Marsh Flats 1 Verdant Catacombs 1 Swamp 4 Underground Sea 1 Tolarian Academy Sideboard 1 Flusterstorm 1 Pithing Needle 1 Dismember 2 Grafdigger's Cage 2 Cut Down 2 Force of Negation 1 The Tabernacle at Pendrell Vale 1 Portal to Phyrexia 1 Opposition Agent 2 Hurkyl's Recall 1 Long Goodbye

PARADOXICAL OUTCOME:

4 Phyrexian Metamorph 1 Black Lotus 4 Coveted Jewel 3 Grim Monolith 1 Mana Crypt 1 Mana Vault 1 Manifold Key 1 Mox Emerald 1 Mox Jet 1 Mox Opal 1 Mox Pearl 1 Mox Ruby 1 Mox Sapphire 1 Mystic Forge 1 Sol Ring 4 The One Ring 1 Time Vault 1 Trinisphere 3 Vexing Bauble 1 Ancestral Recall 4 Force of Will 4 Paradoxical Outcome 2 Sink into Stupor 1 Time Walk 1 Tinker 4 Urza's Saga 1 Karn, the Great Creator 4 Ancient Tomb 1 Island 4 Mishra's Workshop 1 Tolarian Academy Sideboard 4 Argentum Masticore 2 Dismember 2 Force of Negation 1 Grafdigger's Cage 1 Mindbreak Trap 1 Mycosynth Lattice 1 Pithing Needle 3 Wurmcoil Engine

[elithilanor]

A silly hc for my Lindir and your wardens:

Lindir will talk shit/match energy with Haldir's wardens, and they love it. It's also novel to them because a Lorien minstrel would never. Gallows humor is not appreciated in polite settings in Lothlorien (or most polite elvish spaces, tbh). It's not uncommon for wardens to have a taste for it, but they keep it to the patrol talans and when they're out on the borders.

As a result:

Some of the wildest things Haldir will ever say outside closed doors come out at the end of a long day on patrol, given all danger has passed. Granted, he's still really mindful about what he says. If anyone asks him about it, he says it boosts morale.

Lindir being brought along on off-duty warden adventures / hangouts so they can all talk shit somewhere they won't get in trouble for it

This actually hardcore tracks with my idea that those who walk the Helcaraxë have like the most dry and morbid humor because they survived. Elrond has this too.

Since I hc Lindir as a Noldor, his parents could have walked and passed it onto him

[melpomaen]

HaLindir shenanigans for WIP Wednesday:

"I have perfectly serviceable furniture." "Yes, and a very serviceable floor." Haldir replied. "What, do couches offend you? Take a pillow, at least." Lindir insisted, tossing a cushion in Haldir's direction. "You are my friend, you know."

"Thank you, but truly, do not fret for my sake." Haldir said. "These furs are very fine. I couldn't be more comfortable."

"Oh, I'm not fretting, love. It's quite satisfying to be taller than you."

"Typical songbird," Haldir laughed. "Always looking for a perch."

"Ha! Typical warden, hitting the mark. They used to coax me down from the balcony rails when I was small."

"It wouldn't have been so if you had been raised in Lorien." Haldir mused. "Silvan elflings fall from trees."

"And Noldorin elflings fall from horses, but I hardly count as either." Lindir hummed back. "Alas! 'That ellon from Gildor's company fell from railings, rafters, or trees depending on the season' doesn't have that same ring to it. –Hate it when that happens."

It a strange thing for an elf from Rivendell to say, Haldir thought. Lindir had always struck him as a Noldo.

Happy Wednesday, Fellowship! 💚

Writers, now is your chance to tackle one of those pesky WIPs sitting on your devices! Share with us a little snippet from your latest WIP! If you don't have anything to share yet, go add a few sentences to your story!

Readers, do you want to participate? Challenge yourself to reading an unfinished fic, and leave a comment, or send the author a kind ask about the story!

[tearfulmaiden]

warden-of-lorien replied to your post: omg i almost forgot.  i had a modern...

//HHAHAHAH OH MY GOD YES this is a really good idea, I bet Daliron would be a real bond villain…

SO TRUE I keep imagining him in a big leather swivel chair stroking a cat in his lap XD 

[ladylouoflothlorien]

For your touch I am yearning

Pairing: Haldir x Reader (Gender not specified) Words: 2291 Summary: You are an elf who is skilled at helping other elves figure out their emotions, but you are not necessarily so skilled at figuring out your own. Haldir comes across you trying to figure out why you’re feeling so down, and offers to help in whatever way he can. Warnings: This gets very STEAMY towards the ends. No smut, but lots of steam. It’s kind of like a Kettle.

AN: Can I just say, I’m kind of shocked that it’s taken two years for me to write something set in Lothlorien, when Lothlorien is literally in my name? Anyway! This is based on a prompt submitted to me by the lovely @saviorsong​.

Caras Galadhon, the heart of Elvendom on Earth, chief and central city of Lothlorien. Many Elves of the Golden Wood lived there, as did you.

The Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Their immortality gave them a sense of living outside time. Unlike humans, who must daily strive to understand themselves, their emotions, their place in the world, the Elves may take as long as they wish to discover such things about themselves.

Except, of course, when they can’t. Is it not the way of this world to contrive difficult situations for all? When faced with a distinct lack of time to mull things over, many Elves will find themselves struck with a rather uncomfortable lack of understanding of themselves and their emotions. When such circumstances occurred, many of the Elves of Lothlorien would turn to you.

You were an elf who’d been blessed with three younger siblings – a rare occurrence in a society where children were already uncommon, and when they could be found they often had no siblings to speak of. You had been born early enough that when your siblings had started to arrive, you’d been heavily involved in the upbringing of all three.

For the sake of peace within the family, you had quickly developed a deeper understanding of the emotions of others. This emotional intelligence had been invaluable in ending the feuds between your young siblings, and it was an emotional intelligence that few Elves, despite their general wisdom, shared. Therefore, if any elf was having trouble deciphering their own emotions, you were more than happy to help. Unfortunately, this was not a skill that extended to the understanding of your own emotions.

You all but sank into the bed in your Talan. You were absolutely exhausted, for all Elves are supposed to be tireless beings. There were many things that you had been intending to get done that day, and you had accomplished precisely none of them. It was not necessarily annoying, for the tasks could always be completed the next day, but the Elves around you seemed to be having more trouble than usual. You wondered if it had anything to do with the upcoming festival.

Still, there was something else bothering you other than physical exhaustion, and it was something that you could not quite place. You frowned slightly, wondering what exactly it was that you were feeling, but then there came a gentle knock at the door.

“Come in.” You called politely as you eased yourself back off the bed and into standing position to receive your guest.

The door opened slowly, and in walked Haldir, March warden of Lorien. You were surprised, but managed to bow your head lightly in respect.

“March warden.”

Haldir smiled a little and took a step towards you.

“We are friends, are we not? I have told you before that the use of my title between us is unnecessary.”

You smiled in return and raised your head, though in your exhaustion your smile did not reach your eyes, and Haldir noticed this.

“What brings you to my Talan at this hour, Haldir?”

Though you were always glad to see him – for you had long harboured feelings for the march warden – the visit was certainly unusual.

Haldir made a gesture for you to sit, and so you both settled on top of your bed, sitting a respectable distance apart and not touching, for physical touch is not a thing often practiced among Elves.

“I admit I noticed you on your way up here. You seemed out of sorts, so I thought to check on you. Please forgive the intrusion if it is unwanted.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, for there was something a little off with Haldir. He seemed to be almost nervous, though you were hardly in a fit state to discover why, not with your own emotional problem to deal with.

“Do not trouble yourself my friend, an intrusion though this may be, it is not unwelcome.”

You glanced sideways at the other elf, who’s eyes widened a little at first in surprise, but then narrowed.

“You are teasing me.”

“I might be. You’re so formal with me – it is no wonder I still call you march warden.”

Haldir had opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something teasing of his own, but then he paused and seemed to think better of it.

“Come now, do not distract me. I came to see of you are alright. Answer me truly, does something ail you?”

You looked down at your hands, which were resting on your lap.

“I would not burden you, Haldir.”

Haldir frowned at that, and seemed to lean a little closer, though he still kept distance between you.

“You could never be a burden. It is plan that you are troubled. Speak to me so that I might be able to help you.”

There was something in his tone of voice so earnest that you could not deny him.

“Very well. I confess I am troubled, though I hardly know what by. It came upon me earlier today, and I cannot seem to shift it.”

Your hands wrung together lightly as you spoke, clearly uncomfortable. Your mood had dropped rather dramatically, and Haldir quickly sought to lift it again.

“What’s this? The great emotional decipherer stumped by their own emotions? This would be quite the scandal if it got out.”

You tried to fix him with a glare, but your efforts in that department were fruitless, as you could not keep your mouth from twitching upwards. Haldir proceeded then, satisfied that you did not look so disheartened.

“I know your methods – I have seen you work your magic. I may not possess your skill but do remember I have two brothers of my own. Let us work through this, together. We will surely understand what is wrong soon enough.”

The corners of your eyes wrinkled as your smile widened. It was not difficult to consider yourself genuinely lucky to have Haldir as a friend, even if you secretly desired more than that from him.

“You know my methods? Go ahead then, I should like to see you apply them.”

You turned their body to sit cross-legged on the bed and watched as Haldir did the same.

“Think carefully – what’s different than usual that could have made you feel this way?”

Well, that was certainly a question you had asked many a time, and yet now that it was directed at you, you realised what a difficult question it was to answer. After a slightly drawn-out pause, you finally came upon your answer.

“I suppose… with my parents having sailed a few months ago and my brothers and sister now grown and visiting other lands… I have not had as much familial attention as I am used to.”

Internally, Haldir breathed a sigh of relief, for here was a problem he understood well, it was also something that wasn’t too serious. He had been dreading that you might somehow have heard the call of the sea, for if you had you would surely have decided to leave the shores of middle earth. Haldir did not think he could have borne it. It seemed, however, that you were not quite done with your explanation, and Haldir was more than willing to keep listening. Your cheeks had turned slightly pink, and Haldir was certainly curious as to why.

“My family… we are more physically affectionate than most… I must miss being held and touched, as I already missed them before today.”

At that, Haldir’s own face went rather red, for the solution to your problem was rather obvious and he had promised to help, still, it was a little taboo. Haldir swallowed, for it would surely wound his pride as march warden to back out now, but he could not help feeling rather nervous.

“Our solution is clear, then.”

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, wondering if Haldir was really offering himself as the elf for the job, or if he was simply stating that someone was needed.

“H-Haldir, I truly do not wish to impose… I do not wish to embarrass you.”

Haldir swallowed before speaking, though you did not notice this. Part of him felt guilt, for taking advantage of the situation in order to get close to you, but he would not, could not, back out now.

“You are my… friend, and we are alone. There is no imposition, and nothing to feel embarrassed about.”

He paused, holding his arms open slightly.

“Come here.”

You rather slowly and more than a little awkwardly manoeuvred closer to Haldir until you were close enough to him that Haldir could wrap his arms around you. You were stiff at first, but soon melted into the embrace with a soft sound. However, you soon felt better and as soon as you did, you felt that it would only be appropriate to end the embrace. Haldir had done so much for you. It would be wrong to take advantage of him.

“I’m feeling… much better now thank you.”

You said quietly, starting to lean back so as to move away from him. Suddenly Haldir’s arms tightened around you so that you could not get away, and he moved his head to hide it against your neck.

“Haldir, what are you doing?!”

“Do not ask me to let you go just yet, I cannot do it.”

His voice was a little muffled against your skin, but it was loud enough to hear clearly, so there was no possibility of mistake. You felt your pulse quicken and your throat dry as you rapidly tried to go through all the reasons he would say such a thing, and Eru help you, there weren’t many. Still, you could not jump to conclusions.

“M-my friend.” You began. “Do not let me mistake your intentions-”

Haldir looked up then, suddenly, his eyes looking straight into yours with pupils so blown it made his eyes seem black.

“Friends. Must we be friends?” He asked, earnestly, his fingers fisting at the back of your tunic where he held you. You merely gaped at him.

“For centuries I have buried my feelings but now that I have you in my arms I find I can do so no longer.” Haldir’s seeking gaze never left yours, and you could feel the heat of his hands through the thin fabric of your clothing.

“Tell me you do not feel the same and I will walk back out that door behind me.”

Haldir leant in and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, and said absolutely nothing, for you were in such a state of shock that your feelings were returned that you were speechless.

“You say nothing!” He exclaimed, breathless and delighted, one hand leaving its place at the back of your tunic to tenderly – albeit shakily – caress the side of your neck. His voice dropped low, and finally his eyes left yours only to flick down to your lips.

“And yet now you must tell me that you do feel the same, or I can proceed no further.”

You finally snapped out of the dreamlike state you had been in since the first hint of Haldir’s true feelings. You flung your arms around his neck, fingers burying greedily into his thick golden hair, as you brought your lips to his so suddenly he jolted in surprise. Haldir righted himself almost instantly, kissing ardently back as he pushed you down onto the bed. When your back hit the mattress you gasped against his lips, and the march warden – ever ready to seize an advantageous opportunity – bit down on your bottom lip.

Your fingers moved in his hair and found his pointed ears, and you ran the pads of them fingers over the sensitive tips. Haldir’s hips jerked forward at the touch and he let out such a moan into the kiss that your legs seemed to wind around his trim waist all by themselves.

One of Haldir’s hands moved down your body to grasp your thigh. He squeezed firmly as he aligned your hips together, and you could not help but whimper against his lips at the hardness you felt there.

“Such pretty sounds you make.” Haldir’s voice was breathless and deeper than you had ever heard it before, and you writhed beneath him as he finally broke the kiss so that his lips could explore the sliver of exposed skin that your tunic afforded him.

“Have you truly yearned for me as I have for you?”

You were beyond words at that point, but could readily show him with your body, and so you rocked your hips up into his. Haldir’s grip on your thigh tightened deliciously and with a barely stifled groan he pressed his hips down to meet yours once, twice, and then suddenly his body went tense and he stopped all motion. You whined again beneath him, but this time from disappointment.

“Why did you stop?” You asked, panting so heavily the words were more puffs of breath than proper sounds.

He pulled his head up a little so he could look fondly down at his love, a sweet smile on his lips for all they were swollen from kissing. The sweet smile could not detract, however, from the near feral gleam in his eyes.

“I do not think your brothers, nor your sister indeed, would be pleased with me if I were to wed you here and now without any proper courting.”

Haldir leaned closer again, pressing his lips to your ear as he spoke softly.

“For if we had continued any further we certainly would have been married before the hour was up.” Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101​ @jotink78​ @luna-xial @underthemoon-imagines​

[thegreatstrongbow]

warden-of-lorien replied to your post: "Beleg, what is the most painful memory your mind...

//For some reason this gave me goosebumps! Beautiful writing <3

ahhh thank you <3 he’s a sad elf

[galadhir]

I mean, I would say that if, in a letter, Tolkien is talking about Galadriel specifically, that's because he's talking about Galadriel specifically.

He's not talking about Celeborn or their relationship, or whether they powershare in Lorien or anything like that. He's just talking about Galadriel. He can in fact talk about Galadriel on her own without saying anything at all about Celeborn (and he often does.)

I have no problem in agreeing that Celeborn is often overlooked when it comes to Tolkien's meta and notes, and it's evident that Tolkien didn't take the same amount of time thinking about him and what the exact shape of C&G's relationship is, as he did thinking about Galadriel.

Going back to the Letter 246 quote you use as evidence of Galadriel's thirst for power and domination, the very same quote says:

But this the Great had well considered and had rejected, as is seen in Elrond's words at the Council. Galadriel's rejection of the temptation was founded upon previous thought and resolve.

So yeah, nobody's arguing that she has a power hungry darkside, but Tolkien himself says that she rejects it.

Anyways, I don't think that we two will agree, because you are basing your opinions on Tolkien's letters and I'm basing them on the published books, where Celeborn is Prince of Doriath (The Silmarillion,) and where Lothlorien's March Wardens report to Celeborn, and it is Celeborn who says whether the Company of the Ring will receive Lorien's aid or not. (The Lord of the Rings.)

See where I've previously argued about this in 'Prince Valium? (A book-based character study of Celeborn).'

Tolkien had a lot of thoughts about his universe - he was probably rotating it in his head until the day he died - and they change and evolve and contradict each other, and they're a great source of ideas for fics. We will never know for sure what a full JRRT Silmarillion would have looked like if he wrote it. But it's the book we got and so I accept it as the canon for the First and Second ages. And Lord of the Rings was fully written and published by JRRT, so that seems like solid ground as my Tolkien canon for the Third Age.

Which means that if you rely on evidence in a letter and I rely on evidence in one or other of the published books, I'm going to continue believing that I'm right. Even without the fact that your evidence doesn't actually say what you say it does.

Sidetracked myself again, damn. What I was saying was it seems like we will never agree, so perhaps we should agree to disagree. I have left the tag now, so I shouldn't see or interfere with anything else in there any more. I shouldn't really have weighed in on this, but old habits die hard.

Galadriel in Season 1-2 of “Rings of Power”: Valiant, Prideful and the Darkness Within

Galadriel was born during the Years of the Trees, on Valinor, the only daughter of High King of the Noldor, Finarfin, sister to three brothers. She was named “Artanis” by her father, and “Galadriel” (Sindarin for “Maiden crowned with gleaming hair”) is the name she took after marrying prince Celebron, in Doriath (Middle-earth).

In her youth, Galadriel was known for her proud, strong and self-willed temperament, and for the unmatched beauty of her hair. She had the golden hair of her kin, but hers was particularly striking, shot with silver, and beautiful. And so much so that Fëanor was inspired by how the light of the Two Trees of Valinor caught her hair to craft the Silmarils. Three times he asked her for a few strands of it, and three times Galadriel refuse him. Galadriel couldn’t stand Fëanor and saw the growing darkness in him; most likely because it was the same as within herself.

Tolkien describes Galadriel as “of Amazon disposition”, “strong of body, mind and will, a match for both the loremasters and the athletes of the Eldar in the days of their youth”, and she would “bound up her hair as a crown when taking part in athletic feats”. Her mother called her Nerwen, “man-maiden”.

Departure from Valinor

Galadriel is adventurous, ambitious “and like her brother Finrod, of all her kindred the nearest to her in heart, she had dreams of far lands and dominions that might be her own to order as she would without tutelage [from the Valar]”.

Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone [from Valinor]. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled her heart, and she yearned to see the wide untrodden lands and to rule there a realm at her own will. For the youngest of the House of Finwë she came into the world west of the Sea, and knew yet nought of the unguarded lands. Morgoth’s Ring

In Unfinished Tales, Tolkien tells us Galadriel wanted to leave Valinor and travel to Middle-earth to exercise her talents; being brilliant in mind and swift in action she had early absorbed all of what she was capable of the teaching which the Valar thought fit to give the Eldar’, and she felt confined in the tutelage of Aman. In Valinor, Galadriel had been a pupil of both Aulë and Yavanna, and felt the Valar had already taught her everything they were allowed to.

This can look like a level of arrogance of the likes of Fëanor, however, this is not how Tolkien sees it. Galadriel is presented like a character full of potential, spirit and talent. And even Manwë, the King of the Valar himself, has heard of her desire to leave for Middle-earth and didn’t oppose.

Refusing the Valar pardon

At the end of the First Age she [Galadriel] proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. Tolkien Letter 320

And this is the Galadriel we meet in the first episode of “Rings of Power”. The audience can immediately perceive she’s strong-willed, proud and rebellious, acting against orders of the High-king of the Noldor, Gil-galad, in her endless hunt for Sauron, Morgoth’s sucessor and the responsible for her brother’s death.

Galadriel is also the only Elf in Middle-earth who believes that Sauron is still out there, and means to find and destroy him, at any cost. “More and more of our kind began to believe that Sauron was but a memory. And the threat, at last, was ended. I wish I could be one of them.”

It was not your company who defied you out there, but rather you who defied the High King, by refusing to heed any limit placed upon you. In an act of magnanimity, he has chosen to honor your accomplishments… Rather than dwell upon your insolence. Test him again and you may find him less receptive than you might have hoped. Elrond warns Galadriel, 1x01

Gil-galad “honors” Galadriel by granting her passage to return to Valinor, and rest in glory. But she’s set on refusing, not because she’s certain Sauron will return, and wants to find him, but due to her belief she won’t find inner peace, until she accomplishes that, as she tells Elrond in the same episode:

Elrond: Do you truly believe seeking him out will satisfy you? That one more Orc upon the point of your blade will bring you peace? […] If you are wrong, will you lead more Elves to die in far-off lands? To convince yourself you have done enough, how many more statues would you add to this path? No one in history has ever refused the call. Do so now, it may never come again. Do so now, it may never come again. You will linger here, an outcast, poisoned in dark whispers and dreams. Galadriel: And in the West, do you think my fate would be better? Where song would mock the cries of battle in my ears? You say I have won victory over all the horrors of Middle-earth. Yet you would leave them alive in me? To take with me? Undying, unchanging, unbreaking, into the land of winter less spring? Elrond: Only in the Blessed Realm can that which is broken in you be healed. Go there. Go, and I promise you… If but a whisper of a rumor of the threat you perceive proves true, I will not rest until it is put right. You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword.

I would also like to point out Elrond foreshadowing Galadriel’s banishment in this scene. And this is very much in line with what Tolkien wrote:

[Galadriel] had no peace within. Pride still moved her when, at the end of the Elder Days after the final overthrow of Morgoth, she refused the pardon of the Valar for all who had fought against him, and remained in Middle-earth. It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full grown and she rejected it, and passing the last test departed from Middle-earth forever. The Peoples of Middle-earth

The Darkness Within

“Rings of Power” presents some explanations to Galadriel refusing the Valar’s pardon and staying in Middle-earth. At the surface, it’s because she wants to hunt down Sauron, defeat him, and for Halbrand to be “The Lost King” who could ride [her] to victory, like Elrond says, in 2x02.

It’s because of her pride, or her desire for vengeance. However, in 1x05, and in a moment of vulnerability with Halbrand aka Repentant Mairon, she reveals the true reason behind her restless pursuit of Sauron:

Galadriel sees her endless pursue for Sauron as the means to earn her inner peace after everything she saw, did and endured on Middle-earth. It’s connected to her pride, yes, but also to her greatest and deepest desire of healing. And this is why she can’t stop her pursuit, even when we, the audience, watch Galadriel endanger her companions’ lives in 1x01. She believes only when she destroys Sauron, will she destroy the darkness within herself.

Indeed he does, because Sauron wants to heal Middle-earth from Morgoth’s corruption, at this point in his own character arc. But the “darkness within” has been present in Galadriel’s character ever since the prologue of “Rings of Power”, and this is also in line with Tolkien legendarium, as Galadriel recognizes the darkness in others as a mirror to her own, and how she refuses to talk about her time in Valinor with Melian.

And in Season 1, we see Galadriel employing some questionable tactics; in Númenor she acts behind Halbrand’s back with Queen regent Míriel to get herself an army (the army she claims to Adar Sauron promised her, in 2x06), and travel to the Southlands and defeat Sauron. There, she vows to genocide the Orcs and killing some of them in a gruesome manner (bringing them into the sunlight) just for Adar to reveal Sauron’s whereabouts, even though he already told her the truth (as he knows it): he killed Sauron.

It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror. Adar taunts Galadriel, 1x06

And Adar will not be the only character to mention the pull to the darkness in Galadriel, in “Rings of Power”:

The light of Valinor shone upon your very face, Galadriel, and you turned your back on it. Was it truly to fight the darkness or was the darkness calling to you? Elrond, 2x01

This is more noticeable with Repentant Mairon aka Halbrand, when she acts the “Morgoth” to his “Sauron”, by tempting him with power while he’s on a quest for redemption. By then, we already have some pieces of foreshadowing on this. We have Gil-galad’s prophecy in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

And we also see Galadriel in connection with the Fall of Númenor visions, in Season 1:

And Mairon himself confirms this in 1x08. And that explains his “are they not the seeds you planted?” in Season 2. Because she’s the one who tempted him with power, and with the pouch of the King of the Southlands (Morgoth), when he wanted to remain in Númenor in servitude, and to prove his good faith to the Valar, and redeem himself from his crimes under Morgoth.

However, not only Galadriel established a connection with him, but also said “I’ve felt it too” when he expressed his wish to bind himself to her (“Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...”). She gave him the validation he wanted, and made him believe she would offer him forgiveness, and he would earn the redemption he so desperately wanted. But she didn’t, she cast him out. And he wouldn’t let it slide that easily, as we’ve been in Season 2.

Growing in Wisdom

In Season 2, we saw some glimpses of Galadriel letting go of her arrogance and “galloping”, and seeing the “bigger picture” in some occasions. This is foreshadowing for her future character arc, as the wise and compassionate, yet fierce and valiant, leader we know her to be on the Third Age. From Tolkien lore, we know that as she grows in wisdom and power (“elf magic” as Sam calls it), Galadriel will leave her pride behind.

Arondir. There is a dearth of Elven heroes this night. It would be a pity to lose another. Galadriel advises Arondir not to attack Adar, 2x07

But perhaps her last scene with Adar, in 2x08, was the most emblematic of this. She has been to the Orc camp, and witnessed the funeral rites, and how the Orcs live, and realized that, maybe, they aren’t the scourged slaves she believed them to be, back in Season 1. Each one of them has a personality. Like Adar told her, in 1x06: “We are creations of The One, Master of the Secret Fire, the same as you. As worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home.”

And Galadriel is becoming more attuned to every race in Middle-earth, and the Orcs were only the beginning. And she was willingly to make an alliance with Adar, at the end. They shared an agreement (until Sauron showed up and put an end to that). But more importantly, Adar forgives Galadriel for her hatred and her killing of the Orcs. And, as I’ve talked about on my post on Repentant Mairon (aka Halbrand), forgiveness is a major theme in Tolkien legendarium, and it’s not only earned, but given as well. And by forgiving Galadriel and returning Nenya to her, Adar redeems himself (just like Gollum; which is a theme I talked about here).

Banishment from Valinor

In Letter 353, Tolkien confirms that “Galadriel was 'unstained': she had committed no evil deeds”, concerning the Oath of Fëanor. She took no part in any of that; because “she was an enemy of Fëanor”. In the same letter, Tolkien tells us Galadriel reached Middle-earth independently, and not alongside the other Noldor. And her desires were legitimate, but “she became involved in the desperate measures of Manwë, and the ban on all emigrations”.

Many (Christopher Tolkien included) think this contradicts Galadriel’s banishment from returning to Valinor. But this is an idea (“the banishment of Galadriel”) Tolkien has in place in several sources of his work. And it wouldn’t be the first time Christopher Tolkien misinterpreted his father work, either, with the Dagor Dagorath being a prime example, when he thinks Tolkien abandoned the concept when he didn’t (Christopher later corrected this, though).

And it has been noticed by many Tolkien scholars how Christopher Tolkien has “tone down” his father’s female characters on his notes and editions, too. With Galadriel being a prime example of this. Tolkien tells us on several occasions that Galadriel had aspirations of power and dominion, she wanted a kingdom of her own, to rule as she saw fit, and that’s why she remained on Middle-earth, and refused the Valar’s pardon. However, Christopher decided to strip Galadriel of her agency, and even attempted to whitewash her character by claiming she wanted to stay on Middle-earth due to her love for Celeborn, when this has nothing to do with what Tolkien himself wrote. So, excuse me, for talking his interpretation with a grain of salt.

And, since Galadriel is married to Celeborn, of course, he’s included on her plans of having a kingdom of her own (to be otherwise wouldn’t make sense), with them both ruling it, but Galadriel wants to be the one “calling the shots”. And this dynamic is what will happen in Lothlórien: Celeborn is lord, but Galadriel is *the* Lady, without her husband overstep or overshining her. I’m not seeing any contradiction here. Maybe a case of “overthinking”, because Letter 353 appears to be about Galadriel not taking the Oath of Fëanor (and that’s not the reason for her banishment).

I owe much of this character to Christian and Catholic teachings and imagination of Mary, but actually Galadriel was a penitent, in her youth, a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself. Tolkien Letter 320

I already theorized about Galadriel connection to the Virgin Mary (she’s not “the Virgin Mary”, but a “devotee of the Virgin Mary” in Tolkien lore) but I think Tolkien is being very clear with his words here. He considers Galadriel a “repentant sinner”, and he doesn’t contradict himself at all. Because a desire for power and dominion are not positive traits on his legendarium. And the confirmation that she was pardoned by the Valar when she resists the One Ring, clearly indicates there was something more at work, and is connected with her return to Valinor.

In “Fellowship of the Ring” book, this is also clear: “I pass the test,” she says, “I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.” Her “passing the test” and resisting the One Ring is connected with her returning to Valinor.

We know, from Tolkien lore, Galadriel develops “sea longing” on the Third Age, and has a deep desire to return to Valinor, to the point of depression (she sings laments about it). One can argue she stays out of duty, but then why is she “pardoned” by the Valar after rejecting the One Ring and can now go to Valinor? The only explanation is that Galadriel was, indeed, banished, and her resisting the One Ring is her final test. She passes the test, the Valar pardon her, her banishment is lifted, and she returns to Valinor at the end of “The Return of the King”. No contradictions there.

On Christopher’s defense, he probably thought Galadriel “desiring power and dominion” weren’t good enough reasons for her to be banished from Valinor, and that’s a plot hole “Rings of Power” is trying to answer, with her connection with Sauron, and the temptations he offers her. He is, after all, the one who introduces the “desire for power and dominion” to her character arc in the show; by offering her temptations and promises of endless power (his power). Which means, Galadriel’s desire for dominion and power from Tolkien lore is personified by Sauron in the show. And the reason for her banishment, will be, also, connected to him, somehow, for Sauron has already offered her the same temptation as the One ring, thousands of years into the future:

And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair! She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Fellowship of the Ring

In Tolkien legendarium, it’s not Galadriel adventurous or valiant nature that gets her into trouble with the Valar, but her rebellious spirit, and her pride, above of all, that lead her defy their authority, and wanting to claim a kingdom of her own where she can make her own rules. In “Rings of Power” the disapproval of the Valar are personified in the characters of Gil-galad and Elrond.

Indeed, her disregard for the Valar laws is visible on several occasions in lore. Not only she “proudly refused” their pardon to return to Valinor, at the dawn of the Second Age, but Tolkien tells us, in Unfinished Tales: Celeborn was the lover of Galadriel, who she later wedded. In Letter 43, Tolkien defines what he means by “a lover” (in general): “engaging and blending all his affections and powers of mind and body in a complex emotion powerfully coloured and energized by sex”.

This seems to imply, Galadriel didn’t wait to be “officially” married (ceremony, feast) to Celeborn before consummating their union. For the Eldar, “sex = marriage”, indeed, but the way Tolkien phrases this seems to indicate Galadriel doesn’t concern herself with the Eldar ways, and took Celeborn as her lover before any thought of actual marriage. Because language is extremely important in Tolkien, and we already know “sex = marriage” for the Eldar, so him writing this about Galadriel’s character means there’s something more to it.

Interestingly enough, these two themes are present in Tolkien last letter concerning Galadriel, in 1973 (the year of his passing). Without context, however, it’s insure if the two are related or not, so read this with a whole saltshaker:

I meant right away to deal with Galadriel, and with the question of Elvish child-bearing.

[melpomaen]

Got any fun Figwit hcs running around in your head?

Pretty much always. You can decide if these are fun lol

Assorted Figwit Headcanons

Can and will get pissed if someone calls dandelions a weed. When he finds out that certain wardens gave Rúmil shit for having dandelions braided into his hair, Figwit starts passive-aggressively referring to beloved flowers of Lorien as weeds in their presence. He has an entire rant on how dandelions are objectively more useful than the elanors of Lorien.

Figwit's memory is more or less on par with other elves, but he struggles with chronological order. Most wouldn't notice because he's very good at figuring out timelines using context clues.

Figwit doesn't like the taste of alcohol. He'll do cider or port if they're sweet enough. Otherwise, he'll take a few sips through dinner then pawn his glass off to someone else. Rúmil usually, if he's there.

He has a spat with Rúmil during their time in Gondor after Aragorn and Arwen's wedding. During a short trip to Dol Amroth they exchange heated words and make the last several miles of the journey separately. Figwit takes a detour with a young Gondorian hunting party, who are thrilled that an elf is personally interested in them. They're v excited to speak Sindarin with him and Figwit gives them impromptu Quenya lessons. Little hunting occurs. Mostly they talk and get very drunk together. Figwit has them call him "Melpomaen," which isn't widely known to be his given name. In most settings he uses Maenod at this point. When the men go back home and recount their elf adventures, everyone thinks they're making it all up because "Melpomaen" is a nonsense Sindarin/Quenya mishmash of a name and honestly, you're going to have to try better than that to fool everyone.

[wareagleofthemountain]

Long Story…

Summary: Orophin and Caladwen have a little adventure.

Caladwen leapt from tree branch to tree branch, sharp green eyes fixed on the ellon beneath her who was currently plodding along the muddy path pulling a cart behind him. The chilly air nipped at her fingers and the earth was left dampened by the recent rainfall. The rivers of Lorien were at their most productive, flowing fast and running deep. It had been Orophin’s idea to set off towards the creek bed and try to pan for gold as all the recent activity would have no doubt stirred up the sediment which lay below the water.

“Could use a little help here.” Her brother in law grumbled, the wheels of the cart having gotten caught in the mud for what must have been the fiftieth time that day.

Caladwen grinned, swinging upside down on a Mallorn limb by her ankles. “What’s wrong? The big, strong Marchwarden Orophin having a hard time?”

“I’ll show you a hard time, you elfling!” He smirked, muttering a hushed command to the tree she was hanging from, a vine promptly slithering out to fling her off.

“Oof!” She sat up from the bush she’d landed in, scowling at the smug face staring back at her. “Real mature.”

“You had it coming.” His eyes sparkled with mirth and he extended a hand to help her up. “Alright, let’s get the shovels. Again.”

Caladwen chuckled. “I love how you bought these with the intention of digging up rocks in the creek, but all we’ve done with them so far is excavate our cart from the mud.” She reached out and retrieved the two items in question, both Warden-grade shovels struggling not to bend under the thickness of the mud and already caked in grime.

“I’m just glad Rumil reminded me to grab them when I was headed out the door this morning. Nearly forgot.” Orophin panted, chucking away his third scoop of debris into the tree line.

“Eru forbid ‘tis one of us who should get caught in this stuff. It’s like quicksand.” It was now Caladwen’s turn to take up pulling the cart loaded with mining supplies, the elleth noticing the fatigue in Orophin’s arms.

“If the bounty in that river is half as plentiful as the dwarves say, the mud will be worth it.” Orophin was known to frequent bars run by dwarves, as he claimed they lead to more interesting stories to tell at the end of the night. Though his brothers certainly stopped finding this habit of his amusing after the time Orophin had come scrambling home in the early hours of the morning, hurrying to lock the door and constantly looking over his shoulder. As it turns out, the young fool had been so caught up in his cups that he’d spent all of his gambling money at the bar. And dwarves, especially the very greedy miner Orophin had played cards with that night, do not take kindly to not receiving their winnings. The dwarf spent two hours banging on their Tallen door and shouting curses at the ellon inside about what he was going to do if Orophin didn’t pay up. Haldir ended up having to foot the bill that night, and in turn Orophin earned a very long lecture about responsibility the next day as well as being put on paperwork filing duty for the following week to teach him a lesson.

But did that experience deter the willful ellon from returning to such establishments? Of course not!

“Haldir thinks we’re mad carrying on out here in the cold like this.” Caladwen’s heart clenched, already missing her husband. She thought back to Haldir’s soft blue eyes gazing up at her as he knelt to tie her boots this morning, draping his rainproof cloak over her shoulders as she walked out of the door. Even now she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her pointed ear, and hear his voice making her promise to stay safe in its usual gruffness. It made her long to be in his embrace once more, Caladwen focusing her attention on her fea to connect with the ever present reassurance of their soul bond. It was like having her skin kissed by the thin reys of the sun on a warm summer day; not overpowering, but just enough to feel its comforting presence.

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to the idea when we bring home the gold!” Orophin puffed his chest out confidently, and Caladwen could see that he had no intention of leaving the creek without his treasure.

Both elves stopped and turned to each other when they saw the steep slope that lay before them, terrain dotted with boulders and trees. It was the only way to get down to the water they realized with a shared sigh. Now, had it only been the two of them, this hike would have been no trouble. But unfortunately, there was no way they could make it down while pulling the cart.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Orophin gave her a sly wink.

“No. Come on. No! Orophin!” Caladwen was now seated in the cart, Orophin standing behind it with his feet ready to give him a running start.

“It’ll be fine.” He assured her.

“Famous last words!” The elleth protested. “How are we even going to get it back up here when we’re done?”

“Meh, that’s our future selves’ problem.” Was the last phrase Caladwen heard before her world became a blur of colors zipping by as they rolled down the cliff, Orophin having pushed off and now sitting behind her. “Lean left!” He commanded between gritted teeth, struggling to throw his weight around enough to guide the direction of the cart.

“Look out!” Caladwen’s eyes went wide, seeing a huge tree only a few feet in front of them. “Need a plan here pilot!” Her voice was panicked, but also agitated by his lack of response.

They held their breaths and leaned in the opposite direction, just barely grazing the tree. Orophin was the first to burst out laughing when the shock wore off, Caladwen joining in with shaken hands.

“Woooo! Take that! We rule this mountain!” Orophin threw his head back, howling their victory.

“Uh… Orophin?” Caladwen’s shaking again.

“Oh no…” His eyes fall on the ledge in their path, approaching too fast to react. “Brace for impact!”

Instinctively, Orophin moved to cover Caladwen’s body with his own, wrapping around her to break her fall as the two were ejected from the cart. The wood splintered as it hit the ground below.

Orophin landed on his feet, carefully lowering her to the soil. “You okay Cali?”

“Yeah, I think so…” She panted.

“Haha! See? Told you we’d make it.” He patted her shoulder as he walked off to scavenge for their mining supplies which were now strewn about all over the bank. Eventually, everything was retrieved, and the wide array of tools Orophin managed to procure for their trip was truly impressive; old kitchen pans with holes poked into the bottom of them to act as sifters, a pick to scrape mud and moss off of potentially valuable rocks, and the aforementioned shovels. Lastly, each elf brought a pack filled with food, fresh water, and plenty of space to take home any treasures they might find. They eagerly leapt into the cold water, standing about waist deep as they began digging for handfuls of rock to sift through.

Caladwen stifled her laughter as Orophin nearly face planted trying to walk in the stream, his boots so close to getting sucked off of his feet by the mud. “You good?”

He immediately picked up on the sarcasm in her tone, gathering a clump of slimy moss from the end of his shovel and holding it in front of his face with a wrinkled nose. “Ewww… think fast!”

The elleth yelped as it landed in her already messed hair, overbalancing and landing in the stream. Sputtering, she scrambled to her feet.

“You look like the creature from the Black Lagoon.” Orophin chuckled.

“Who eats troublesome lads like you!” She couldn’t help but splash him to even the score.

Not having any luck in their current position, Caladwen decided to branch off and sift in a shallower section of the creak by the bank, perching atop a rock outcropping. Her eyes lit up when they caught sight of something interesting in the bottom of her pan.

“What is it?” Orophin’s ears pirked up.

“Not gold, but look at this beautiful wild clay!” She exclaimed, holding the chunk of clay, a marbled combination of orange and purple, up to him. “This would be perfect for making jewelry beads!” She set about collecting as much as she could, even happening upon a few patches of yellow clay, and wrapping the material in damp cloth before placing it in her bag. Orophin, for his part, was not able to locate any gold but collected a few unique small fossils embedded in rocks.

He was the first to notice the darkening skies, having learned through all his years as a warden that it would be unwise to travel given how intense the rainstorms have been in case of mudslides. “Let’s tuck in for the evening. I saw a cave about half a mile upstream.”

XXX

Caladwen and Orophin were eager to put their supplies down once they reached the mouth of the cave. The cart had been broken in the crash, leaving them to carry their tools along with the heavy packs. Caladwen built a fire and they left their cloaks and boots to dry by it, nibbling on lembas and relaxing in a soft patch of moss by the warmth.

“I’m bored.” Orophin groaned, apparently unable to withstand the lack of activity in the last five minutes.

“Hmm…” Caladwen tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes wandering over the stalactites on the roof of the cave. “Want to play a game?”

“I’m listening.” He rolled over to face her.

She picked up two sticks from the surrounding area, dipping them into the charcoal and water mixture that had collected in puddles in the darker regions of the cave, creating a quill of sorts. “It’s called three line. You draw three arbitrary lines and the other person has to create a picture out of them.” She demonstrated by scribbling three lines on the cave wall, Orophin quick to follow. They switched places and proceeded to begin to craft an image using the abstract lines they were given.

“There. A masterpiece!” Orophin said ostentatiously as he unveiled his work.

Caladwen squinted. “What is it?”

He swats her playfully, his face a mask of mock offense. “A slice of cake!” As if it was obvious.

“Did it get run over by a horse?” She quipped.

He laughed. “Don’t blame me, they were your lines.” He leans over, looking at her drawing. “A sun?”

“You got it!”

Their night was filled with laughter, paining the walls with round after round of three line until they drifted off to sleep.

XXX

They must have been quite the sight, coming over the hill caked in mud and carrying supplies that were even dirtier.

“What… happened to you two?” Was all Haldir could muster as he leapt down from his watch tower to meet them.

“Long story…”

[chiefcxuncillxr]

✎

Send me a ✎ + a family member that wasn’t mentioned in this post

My father had four sisters, but I was closest with the youngest, Indilië. She was an excellent cook and as a child she spoiled me with all sorts of treats whenever we visited. She also indulged my love for fine jewelry and brought me many beautiful presents.

[driftinglightofthewoods]

💬

For every 💬 I get in my inbox, I’ll post a quote from my own writing that I’m proud of! 

“Wecould always get revenge on him. Put coloring in his hair oils to make it turngreen. Or orange. Oh no, even better, purple.” He grinned, getting a lightshove from Nethel as even she cracked a smile.“Oh come on, be serious for once, you dork. I just don’t like my brother pokingaround in my life. I don’t understand why you’re so mellow about it. You’relike- … no, it’s stupid.”“You know I’ll never find anything you say stupid, Netty.”“…. Who told you you’re allowed to give me dumb nick names?” She asked,grinning at him before scooting just a bit closer to him.“It’s just… to me, you’re like sunshine, Kaziel. And in a way.. that scares me.Because I’m not supposed to be looking directly at the sun.”“You’re very poetic, but what does your brother have to do with that?”because I feel like in this particular drabble I really got the characteristics of @lacrimosa-magnolia‘s Kaziel down