#maia reader

[lamemaster]

Way Back Home

Request: @lanthanum12 Hello friend! I was wondering if I could request a story? I'd like a platonic Mairon & gender neutral reader or oc story. Preferably with a redeemed Mairon! Please keep the relationship between Mairon and reader platonic. Thank you so much! :D

Genre: angst/redemption/hurt no comfort

Pairing: Sauron/Mairon x Platonic Reader

Summary: Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

AN: Thank you for requesting this dearest friend! I hope you like it. Honestly, he deserves this because he's just a baby.

“I do not wish to be kind. I do not wish to be noble,” Mairon whispered, his voice brittle as he lay in your lap. A note of complaint mixed in his whine.

Your fingers wove gently through his hair, brushing through the strands as if to soothe away the ages of torment he had endured.

It had been so long since you last held your son. Your estranged child, who had wandered so far from the path that once bound him to you.

He had lost his way. Lost his name. Forgotten his form and the very song of his being in his unyielding devotion to his lord.

And so you listened. Your heart ached at the bittersweet joy of his return, mingled with the pain of his proximity. Your throat tightened, choked with words you could not say, with sobs you dared not release. Silent, you let him pour his heart out. Your son was home, but the realization of how little of him remained broke you.

He had been so young. Decades-old, still a fledgling, when the Vala of darkness cast his shadow over him.

What began as an innocent infatuation, a harmless curiosity, had grown into something no one could have foreseen.

Now, the dark lord, the tyrant, the bane of Middle-earth, he was your son. And though the world cursed his name, you could not sever the bond you shared.

Mairon, born of the fragments of your song, had once been your precious child. His music had mirrored the light of Laurelin and Telperion, the brightness that once gilded the Blessed Lands. He had been your laughter, your joy, given form.

But your son had burned too brightly.

And the dark lord had coveted him, drawn him in, much like Fëanor’s Silmarils.

But you were no elven prince, bound by pride or vengeance. You were a Maia, simple, obscure, a servant of the halls of Vana, forgotten even by your own child.

Yet your love for him had never faltered.

"Do you remember me?" you wished to ask. "Did you ever miss me, as I longed for you? Did your heart ache for me when I did not come to your rescue? Forgive me. Stay with me, my darling Mairon."

Your thoughts rang loud and desperate in your mind. "Let me bear his pain. Let me repent for him. He is a child," you had begged the All-Father. Day and night, your life had been spent in prayer for him.

In all the vast expanse of Arda, there was one who prayed for him.

And now, you held your son. He still felt too small. Too fragile. Like the little flame you had once cradled in your arms.

“Mairon,” you whispered, and your tears came unbidden. “Mairon,” you repeated senselessly, nestling your face against his cheek. His name was all you had left of him.

Of all the speeches, the scoldings, and the pleas. Only his name remained.

You were weakened by all that had come to pass. Right and wrong had long since ceased to exist. You just wanted him close. Away from harm. You wanted to hold your precious.

With his head in your lap, Mairon fell silent. His form stiffened at the wet warmth of your tears against his cheek. The trembling of your fingers in his hair sent a shiver through him.

He pointedly avoided your gaze, his eyes falling shut as if to ward off the crushing wave of emotion threatening to break him.

And yet, even as he struggled to hold onto the fleeting fragments of his dignity, he did not pull away.

His pain was yours. Every act of his cruelty had been etched into your soul. You terrible son, you thought. You, who marred the world. You, who tore mothers from their children, and became the cause of grieving mothers.

Yet, parts of him had failed to fade.

“Meow,” a plaintive mewl echoed from the past. Mairon, a small kitten, struggling with the blades of grass your fellow Maiar of Vana teased him with.

Chasing after the green stalk, he had sprung from a rock into your waiting palms. Looking up at you with a whine, his golden eyes followed the blade, insistent and determined.

His first form had been that of a kitten. Endearingly known as Tevildo by your friends. “Hush, no teasing my dearest,” you had scolded them gently, earning soft laughter as Mairon let out a contented mew, finally victorious.

Tevildo had remained. A form that comforted him in the harshest of times, a fragment of innocence that lingered amidst the darkness.

Even in the marred forms of his being, your Mairon had somehow held onto his past.

Now, as his face remained hidden in your lap, you pressed a gentle kiss to his scarred cheek. “You do not have to be noble, my darling, nor perform acts of good,” you whispered, kissing the hands that had once been tiny paws.

“Just stay here...” Your voice trembled with restrained sobs. “In the light of Aman. Do not hurt others, Mairon. Do not let yourself be hurt. Do not isolate yourself. Find redemption and forgiveness, from the Quendi, from the Maiar, from the Valar, and from yourself. I know you can do it because you are my most precious darling.”

You smiled faintly, rubbing his shaking form.

“Look after yourself,” you whispered. “Learn to laugh and love. Make amends with Aulë. And Lady Vána too. She cares for you. Even Lord Manwë does. They know you were just a child. No one will deny you forgiveness.”

Tears blurred your vision, making it difficult to gaze at him before the end. “Promise me, dearest,” you pleaded, pulling him to face you. “Promise me you will do all this.”

And the tiny face of a kitten rested on your palm. Tevildo let out a soft whimper, his tiny paws latching onto your robe as if to hold back the inevitable.

“Be my darling son,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Allow me this, my darling. Allow me one last effort for my son. My last labor as your parent, my precious.”

His cries rang loud, echoing through the halls of Mandos as the bleakness of the Void greeted you. Without complaint, you stepped into it.

This was your penance.

The first time Mairon had held the ring, his heart had soared with love. This soul had reached back to him from the engravings of his rings.

Cradling its warmth in his palm Mairon ran his fingers over the metal.

"My precious," the words that left his lips had stilled him. A face of the past came to mind. His heart trembled at your voice that rang in his ears.

"My precious," you had called him, your lips brushing his cheek with a loving kiss. "My Mairon." He could see your smile, warm and tender, and the memory struck him with unexpected force.

It had been too long, he had forgotten it. Or so he thought.

Holding onto his greatest creation, Mairon's first thought had been of you.

Two words that filled him with aching want to hear them. To be held and to be with the one who once called him with such love.

In the lush valleys of Vána, Mairon chased the green stalk that evaded his paws. He mewled at the elders who refused to hand it to him.

Reaching for it with determination, he ran in circles, surrounded by merry giggles. He was fond of the sound, yet his heart felt woefully wrong as he was denied the stalk despite his efforts.

He made his irritation known with wistful mewls, earning another round of soft laughter.

Lost in his game, his feet slipped over a rock, but a pair of warm, gentle hands caught him. Lady Vana’s touch was kind, yet it felt so wrong.

And in an instant, his heart filled with sorrow. A lingering grief, sharp and relentless, that sneaked up in moments like these.

For in those moments, his heart yearned for you.

Alone in Arda, his cries failed to reach you.

Cradled in Vana’s palms, his cries were inconsolable. Soft whimpers, heavy with a sorrow no one could soothe, silenced the company.

[afterglowsainz]

so high school | lando norris

summary: no one imagined that the rising popstar of the moment and the papaya f1 driver would be dating until an album release and a very much awaited maiden win takes everyone by surprise

fc: maia reficco

request: here

a/n: whenever you guys request something based on a taylor song a fairy is born <3

—

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yourusername the tortured poets department is out tonight 📝🖤🧸

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username new music from my queen finally !!!

username i’ve only had two weeks to prepare for this since she announced it i’m not okay

gracieabrams 🖤🖤🖤

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

username i already know it’s gonna be album of the year

username mother blessing us with new music

username is this gonna make me cry or not? i need to be prepared

sabrinacarpenter iconic of you (liked by yourusername)

username breakup album or i’m in love album?

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yourusername i love you, it’s ruining my life

tagged postmalone

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username WTF MV ALREADY??

username IT’S HAPPENING

username omg this fucking song 😭 yn you’re going to JAIL

username that’s how you open a motherfucking album

taylorswift actually sick!

yourusername learned from the best!

username i love you����🏽 it’s ruining my life (these fucking songs man😩)

landonorris 🖤

username HUH?

username and what is he doing here 🤣

TAKE A TOUR OF THE MCLAREN TEAM HUB WITH LANDO NORRIS & OSCAR PIASTRI posted by mclaren on youtube

comments

username LANDO LISTENS TO Y/N??

username not only that but repeatedly according to oscar???

username guys is it wrong for me to ship lando and y/n🤭

username we’re living of crumbs istg

username oh i know my man listens to the alchemy to hype him up

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landonorris pre-miami🧸

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username hello there

username don’t look at the camera challenge

username prayer chain for lando to win in miami 🙇🏽‍♀️

username stay delusional

username so when’s our wedding?

username these likes between lando and yn are a bit flirty or is it just me?

username they’re just likes on a social media app 😭

username AND a comment he did on her post

username AND him listening to her music before races

username you sound a bit insane but i’m digging this theory

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yourusername my honest reaction to the ttpd reception 🤍 what’s your favorite currently?

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username GIRL YOU’RE SO PRETTY

username down bad, mbobhft, loml, all of them

username THE BLACK DOG !!!

maxverstappen1 down bad (liked by yourusername)

username hello?

username the flowersss 👀

username literally every song on the album i physically can’t listen to anything else

oliviarodrigo fresh out the slammer is crazy (liked by yourusername)

username guilty as sin? was … an experience

username girlie just casually dropping album of the year and asking us to choose a favorite?

landonorris the alchemy and so high school (liked by yourusername)

username HELLO?

username no one talking about f1 drivers randomly commenting their favorite songs 😭

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f1 not much here, just your favorite celebs attending the miami grand prix

tagged kendalljenner, davidbeckham and yourusername

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username my girl yn!!!

username yn at the paddock was not what i expected to see at all

username missed the opportunity to caption this “i'm an aston martin that you steered straight into the ditch”

username lowkey i need to see a yn lando meet up

username kings of flirting through ig likes!

username promote that album queen

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landonorris FUCKING P1 🖤🧡

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username WTF THEY WERE A COUPLE THIS WHOLE TIME?

username so proud!! very well deserved

username well this all makes so much more sense now😭

mclaren first of many🧡

username when they recreated ‘the alchemy’🤭

username pls it was so cute to see him run straight to her as soon as he got out of the car😩

landonorris that song was written about me actually

username bro hard launching on a race post

username well he lowkey hard launch on international television after kissing her in front of everyone!

yourusername so proud of you!🧡

landonorris 🖤

[batsyforyou]

Mini Headcanons for Squishing their Cheeks Elves Addition + One Maia

Tags: Dramatic kisses, Squishing faces, crack?

Author's note: I already stated in my cod part of this but random nonsense is todays order lol.

Squishing and kissing Glorfindel’s cheeks.

would do the same to you. Squish your cheeks and return your kisses. The affection makes Erestor sick lol 

Squishing and kissing Lindir’s cheeks

equals red tomato. He is embarrassed but loves it. Prays Elrond isn't around and that Erestor doesn't hear of it. Eventually he does grab a hold of your hands and kisses them.

Squishing and kissing Feanor’s cheeks

would equal in Dot. Dot. Dot. Blink. Would let it happen for like five seconds if it's in his office but if you try that with him in the forges your affections will get rejected a bit rudely. But don't take it to heart the forge it his main love lol

Squishing and kissing Celebrimbor’s cheeks

Would include baby melting into your touch. Giving you his best doe eyes + heart eyes while listening to your giggles. If it's in the forge he drops everything and freezes before he gets a hold of himself. Though his first reaction is freak out and get you away from what he’s working on. Because it's hot and potentially dangerous. But after that he kisses you with the passion only a feanorian can have.

Squishing and kissing Fingon’s cheeks

he pouts cutely and after getting his lips kissed he’d grin and move to tickle your sides. 

Squishing and Kissing Eönwë cheeks

You curl your finger and gesture for the tall maia to bend down to your height. Curious he raises a brow and accommodates you. Is shocked and surprised when you squish his cheeks and begin kissing him so dramatically. He flushes red embarrassed. Might even spot a judgemental Mairon peaking over his shoulder. “My love please.” Despite his 'disapproval' he lets you do what you want. His wings melting into the floor while listening to your happy giggles.

Squishing and Kissing Finrod's Cheeks

you tug on his hair and give him a good deep kiss to entice him closer before squishing and kissing his cheeks with vigor. He laughs and squeezes your hips and lifts you into his arms to set you on his shoulder. Showing off his strength and then it's his turn to laugh as you go bright red in the face.

Overall most of them can do without their faces getting squished lol.

Masterlist

[rqsie63]

MI MUJER ― FC43.

Lucía Torres gana el primer premio de su carrera, y de paso aprovecha para soft launchear su relación con cierto piloto argentino de Fórmula 1.

🏁: franco colapinto x actress gf! oc.

• face claim: maia reficco / warnings: modismos argentinos muy marcados. escrito + smau.

a/n✨: HERMANAS. mi primer fanficsito para franquitooooo🙏🙏. perdonen por no hacerlo tipo franco x reader, me siento más cómoda con este formato de OC en español , aunque nunca descarto el formato de 'x reader' para un futuro👉👈. ojalá les guste y lo disfruten como yo disfrute los cuarenta minutos de pura imaginación e inspiración que me cayeron del cielo mientras escribía esto. perdón de antemano si hay leves incoherencias o errores de redacción, así como se me ocurrió lo empecé a armar jeje. gracias🤧🏁

El ambiente es un maravilloso y lujoso caos. Famosos por todos lados, murmullos en todas las mesas y los flashes de las cámaras cegando a Lucía cada vez que gira la mirada.

No es la primera vez que esta en un lugar así, pero es la premiación más importante a la cual asiste, y no sólo eso; esta noche está nominada.

Usualmente Lucía asiste a estos eventos como mera parte de un elenco coral, o incluso como la plus one de otra amiga y colega que tiene la consideración de invitarla. Pero hoy está ahí por propio merito, como invitada de lujo, como nominada a Mejor Actriz en una Mini Serie.

Y no es cuestión de ego, o tal vez sí, pero muy honestamente Lucía cree que esta será su noche. Tiene que ser su noche. Por ella, por sus fanáticos, por su familia en Argentina viendola en la tele. Y por él.

Lucía siempre quiso una típica pareja hogareña y establecida. Pero cuando su carrera fuera de Argentina comenzó a ascender supo que eso ya no era del todo viable. Y por años eso la asustó; ¿cómo voy a formar una pareja estable y seria si estoy fuera de casa el 80% del tiempo?

Esa pregunta la persiguió hasta en audiciones, hasta que un día apareció él.

Fue en unas vacacionesen Argentina, justamente. Parecía que, incluso sin conocerse, Franco y Lucía compartían la misma neurona, o al menos eso pensó ella cuando Fanco "invadió" su espacio especial en medio de una joda. Esa esquina específica en el patio de atrás del mítico boliche a las afueras de Pilar.

Mientras que Franco salía para tomar un poco de aire, Lucía se refugiaba allí cada vez que la ansiedad la atacaba en medio del baile, al punto de necesitar fumarse su cigarrillo de emergencia.

Cuando la encontró, muy concentrada en ningún punto específico, Franco sintió el flechazo casí de manera instantánea. No le habló mucho, tenía miedo de cagarla si decía una palabra de más, y estaba seguro que ella lo había notado nervioso.

No tardaron mucho en reconocerse, "Franco Colapinto, corrí un par de carreras en Fórmula 1 este año, no sé si me sacás la ficha."

La pinta de chamuyero mezclada con los evidentes nervios de Francos - ocacionados por tenerla a ella en frente, con su mirada intensa y su cigarrillo en la mano - causaron en Lucía un sentimiento semejante a la ternura.

"Mi hermano vió todas tus carreras, no sé si podrá decir lo mismo de mis proyectos", le contestó asintiendo.

Franco rió, sus manos en sus bolsillos por el aire fresco de la madrugada. "¿Qué hace una actriz de Hollywood fumando en el patio de un boliche rancio?

Lucía levantó una ceja, tirando el cigarrillo y pisándolo con su zapato. A Franco le gustó la expresión de su cara, para nada inmutada de que él la reconociera. "Te podría preguntar lo mismo con lo del boliche rancio, tu profesión es más lujosa que la mía."

Franco levantó los hombros, "Pasa que estoy desempleado, o más o menos."

"Ah mira vos, a mi me estaría pasando lo mismo."

Ambos soltaron una risita. Y no mucho después, él la invitó a que volvieran adentro para seguir con la noche.

Emocionalmente, no se volvieron a separar. Y acordaron llevar las cosas con calma, para que la distancia no sea un obstáculo, sino un simple desafío que, como personas con estilos de vida similares, pudieran ir superando, juntos.

La mañana del evento, aproximadamente siete meses después, ya recontra de novios, Franco le envía un mensaje, varios en realidad. Ella en Estados Unidos, él encerrado en el simulador de Alpine, preparando la carrera de Austria.

Fran💫: me están mandando al simulador otra vez, y después tengo reunión para chequear data, me odian estos tipos

Fran💫: hice los cálculos horarios, anda a saber si están bien

Fran💫: creo que salgo justito para cuando termine la ceremonia, ojalá lo primero que vea sea un video tuyo con el premio

Lucía repasa esos mensajes a cada rato durante la premiación, divagando por momentos. Hasta que el susuro de una compañera de elenco, Bailee, la sacó de sus recuerdos.

"Están por anunciar tu categoría."

Cuando la anuncian como ganadora la mesa entera explota de emoción. Una de sus manos tapando su boca, la otra va directo a su pecho. Caminar hasta el escenario sólo le toma dos minutos, pero se siente como una hermosa eternidad.

La cabeza le da vueltas. No preparó ni una sola oración para decir en caso de ganar, así que mientras improvisa en español dentro de su cabeza, su cerebro lo traduce en inglés para el micrófono.

<< "Uf, no planeaba llorar apenas arrancara a hablar pero bueno, es lo que hay", el salón entero ríe. "Estoy, sin palabras. Esta serie y este personaje tienen un peso enorme para mí. Sinceramente han hecho de mí una mejor actriz y persona. Noah es una chica dramática, soñadora, con un carácter especial y una historia que interpela a todo que la conoce, y en cierta manera Noah soy yo, una chica que viajó sin expectativas a probar suerte, con nada más que un sueño que hoy estoy cumpliendo."

"Gracias a HBO. Sara, nuestra directora de casting, por la oportunidad inmensa, a mis compañeras de elenco que considero mis nuevas hermanas. A mi familia en Argentina, ojalá esto no esté saliendo muy tarde allá porque mañana temprano todos trabajan", esto provocó nuevamente risas y más aplausos. "Y en especial a una persona que ojalá esté viendo esto, si no lo tienen todavía encerrado en el simulador.", bromea levantando un poco más la estatuilla y mirando directo a cámara. "Este personaje me hizo una persona más amena, pasional y abierta a nuevas experiencas. Y me alegra saber que esa fue la versión de mi que conociste esa noche veraniega de Buenos Aires, cuando nos conocimos. Te extraño, adoro, admiro y amo muchísimo. Muchas gracias a todos." >>

El salón de inunda de aplausos, pero una vez más, todo en lo que puede pensar Lucía es en los mensajes de Franco.

Una hora mpas tarde, cuando la premación estpa en sus momentos finales, su celular vibra varias veces. Cuado ve que la notificación va acompañada de un "Fran💫", Lucía se apura en mirar el contenido de los mensajes.

Fran💫: RECIÉN ME LARGAN, RECIÉN VEO TODO, TE AMO

Después de algún que otro intercambio de mesajes, y muchos "te amo", Franco le envía una captura de pantalla. Son las tendencias en Twitter.

Número 1: Lucía Torres.

Número 2: Franco.

Número 3: SIMULADOR, así en mayúsculas.

Fran💫: la relación privada se nos jodió un poquito che Fran💫: que cosa increíble como unieron todo, igual re lerdos si hace seis meses que tiramos palitos por todos lados Fran💫: si vos queres hablo, sino me hago boludo

Lucía se aguanta la carcajada bajo la atenta mirada de todos en su mesa. Después de un rato, agarra el celular y se saca una selfie rápida con la estatuilla. Mordiendose el labio, se la manda.

Lu🎭: dejalos que hablen un ratito más, si querés mañana le tiramos la bomba Fran💫: ah buenoooo 😍😍 Fran💫: la bomba sos vos, mi amor. que considerada 🙏🙏

luciatorres03 just posted.

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luciatorres03 anoche pasaron cositas!!. gracias, un millón de gracias a todos por su apoyo incondicional, desde mis profes de teatro en la primaria hasta mis colegas, a todos les debo algo de lo que soy hoy en día. ❤️✨

(las fotos con el premio las voy a subir cuando acepte el hecho de que en todas salgo llorando y con el maquillaje corrido🥴)

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user1: sobre lo del supuesto novio en el simulador vamos a fingir demencia?

torresupdates: te amamos reina!

delfichaves: que orgullo lu! ❤️

colapintohq: franco en los likes??? listo hermanas, más tardar hoy a la tarde tenemos publicación confirmando todo

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francolapinto si mi mujer gana su primera estatuilla, yo puedo subir las primeras fotos que le saqué cuando nos conocimos o me vas a matar luciatorres03? completamente merecido mi amor, te amo❤️

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colapintohq: me llamaron loca...

user2: SIIIIII MIS PAPIS

user3: amamos cuando se juntan dos lindos

user4: "mi mujer" !!!!!!!!

alex_albon: thank god, you can stop texting me about how miserable you are when she's not around 🙏 congrats tho

francolapinto: I'm gonna keep texting you when she's not around, sorry mate 🤷🏻‍♂️

alex_albon: pierregasly help

luciatorres03: malísimo ese vino pero valió la pena cada gota porque significó la mejor conversación de mi vida❤️ te amo mucho, gracias por ser mi gran sostén ✨

© rqsie63 • 23.06.25

[blackynsupremacy]

If I were to cast more black women in “Smallville” : A Thread Part 2

(These actresses could be seen as side characters, recurring characters, love interests, guest stars or villains. They could even be used as face claims for OCs for any stories based in the 2000s-2010s! )

Disclaimer: These are MY opinions, inner thoughts, and head canons. I believe these women would’ve absolutely nailed a role in the series if they were given a chance back then. There’s nothing wrong about wanting to be represented in any media content such books, movies, and television shows that you enjoy, especially in genres such as sci-fi, fantasy, and period dramas. If you don’t like it, then keep scrolling! This page is basically a diary, so I’m gonna say what I’m gonna say.

1. Maia Campbell

2. Logan Browning

3. Lark Voorhies

4. Lauren London

5. Tatyana Ali

6. A huge honorable mention because she starred in action, sci-fi, and horror films, so I think she would be a great fit if weren’t for her passing.

Aaliyah (R.I.P.)

that’s all, folks! omg, i loved making this thread and i love what black women are doing successfully in all industries because we matter and we should be seen as such. 🫶🏾

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Never Too Late - Part Two: Agh Burzum-Ishi Krimpatul

I know the first part of this fic was a little bit weird, but hopefully things will make more sense with this part. Thank you all for putting up with my strange fic experimentation! Given what has happened and this fic's overarching theme of hope (which will become clear soon, I swear) I want to continue this fic before all others. This, of all things, needs to see the light of day.

Part One here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Maia!Reader

[A/N: Suggestive positions/actions and nudity in this chapter, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, mentions of scars, mentions of torture, nudity, description of the aftermath of flogging (not terribly graphic but still enough that I think a warning is necessary), mentions of blood, Morgoth is his own warning, as is Sauron, kissing, angst, hurt/comfort, I swear this will have a happy ending at some point, idk what I'm doing tbh but I'm trying.

~*~

Elf he was, but Uruk he became. Ruined, tortured, and scarred, the Uruk with no name was promised one by his master. 'Adar' he swore he'd be called. 'Father.' The Uruk had wanted children, even if he'd guarded the secret of the woman he loved with his life. He buried her name so deep within his heart that he nearly forgot it himself.

But, Morgoth never pulled it from him. Only his desire to have a family. To have children. He had seen nearly all of the Uruk's heart, both dark and light, but not the small crevice in which he'd hidden his love.

At the start, he did not understand how Morgoth planned to give him that which he desired, but he'd been foolish enough to choose this path. He had to see it through, no matter the end. It had, undoubtedly, cost him the respect of his lady, so however Morgoth chose to fulfill his wish, he prayed that it would be worth such a sacrifice. But, in his heart, he knew it never would be.

Having been robbed of his lady, the Uruk who would become Adar stewed in self-loathing. He accepted his master's discipline - regardless of the method, hook, cane, or whip - without protest, uttering barely a sound. He believed that he deserved this pain for bringing sadness to she whom he loved best. He wept in the shadows, but not all of it was from Morgoth's torture. The beatings he could endure, but the loss of her warmth, her light...that was the pain that changed him.

To the rest of those in Utumno, the dark lord's stronghold in the far north, Adar presented the façade of strength unbreaking and cold ruthlessness. But, ever in his heart there dwelt a love so fierce it threatened to split him open every time he thought of her. Across the long centuries as he was molded by his master's hand, Adar never forgot who he had been or the light he'd felt streaming over his skin beside the riverbank.

The light was meager in that dark stronghold, however, and soon the feeling was little more than a far distant memory which comforted him through the horrors. Then, it was bolstered by the small cries of the first Uruk children to be born. They might not have been the family he desired to have with his lady, but they were children, young and as yet innocent - precious gifts. Despite anything that Morgoth or Sauron said, he knew his children were worthy of the breath of life, and he would protect them accordingly.

Then, Morgoth ordered the Moriondor to prove their loyalty through suffering. Many tasks he set them, each leaving them more scarred and damaged than before. The final of which was to be carried out atop the dark peak jutting up from the barren wastes of Utumno.

They were led to the top, and each of the thirteen was forced to their knees, arms pulled back at a painful angle, and chained that way. Their clothing was stripped of them beforehand, baring them and rendering them vulnerable to the elements. And thus, they were left.

Hunger tore at them, the shadows writhed mockingly in the unending, suffocating loneliness. As days passed, one by one, the Moriondor cried out for mercy, fearing they'd been forgotten and left to die. Many wept, others screamed out in terror or anger, but not Adar.

Silently, he bore this latest torture. His shoulders protested, shooting agony down his arms, neck, and back at the terrible angle in which they were stuck. Yet, still he remained silent. Sleep came in fits and starts, jolts of pain waking him with a gasp before he became anywhere near fully rested.

If he died there, he thought, it would serve him right for ever leaving that beautiful spot beside the river. He longed to say his lady's name, but he did not wish for the dark lord to hear it or for her to be anywhere near this wretched place.

Days became a week, then two, after which he was so exhausted that he lost track of time. Finally, one day, rain began to fall, but it was different from that which he had felt before. It did not burn his skin. The drops were full of light, gentle and welcoming, an even larger wave of which washed over Adar's face, temporarily soothing the aches from the dark lord's latest round of punishment. The scars that were not yet fully healed - due to Morgoth's dark magic - stopped stinging, and he drew an easier breath than he had in...he could not remember how long it had been.

Lifting his head to find the source of both the rain and the light, he saw the impossible.

He saw her.

Dropping to her knees before him, the Maia from the forest - his muse, his lady, his dearest joy - looked up at him with sadness flooding her eyes. She could not be real. This was not real. Morgoth must have finally broken through that final stronghold in his heart.

But...if there was even the slightest chance that she was truly here, he had to warn her away. She would be in danger if she remained here.

"My lady," he rasped in a voice torn and tattered from screams and dehydration, "you should not be here in the darkness."

"Nor should you, my wordsmith." With a mournful smile, she reached carefully forward and cupped his cheeks. His breath caught in his throat and a sob escaped in its place.

Was she truly there? Nothing so gentle had touched him in years. Neither Morgoth nor his lieutenants would allow that. She had to be real, because all of the other illusions placed before him had felt beautiful yet hollow.

Her touch was warm and solid, safe and loving. Familiar. Perfect. Wondrous.

At first, looking at her had taken effort, as if her light was almost too much for his dark-conditioned eyes, but as time passed, seconds colliding before his eyes, he found her visage easier to behold. Even if it had not, he would never have looked away. Not from her. He had adored her for so long, he'd clung to the hope of seeing her again, even from afar for so many years that he was certain looking away would kill him.

"The others will see you. He will see you," Adar warned. "Flee while you can. Please, my dearest lady, you must do this for me. I am beyond hope. Even my blood has been infiltrated by shadows. It is too late for me, but you can still save yourself. The knowledge that you are alive, walking along the river in the noonday sun is enough to sustain me to whatever end I shall meet."

"None are beyond hope," she promised skimming her thumbs so lightly over his cheeks. Their path brought relief to the raised, puffy skin that would soon be thick, callused skin. "You need not fear for me. The others cannot see me, nor can Morgoth. The rain conceals me from their sight."

Adar's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Then, how...? How am I able to see you? I have experienced the same darkness that they have." His lady smiled indulgently at his question.

"Because your light has not dimmed completely. It takes a great deal more to reignite a fire than it does to stoke the embers of one into a roaring flame. This rain is infused with light. It blinds the darkness. He cannot tame you any more than he can me, my brave poet," she murmured earnestly.

Her words stirred the hope that he'd thought long dead in his breast, and a single tear trickled down his cheek - all that his body could produce in his current state. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed it away as if she had done so thousands of times.

He did not deserve this kindness. He'd been such a fool. He should never have left the river. He should never have looked into the shadows.

He never should have left her.

"I can take you away from him," she began as she leaned forward far enough for their foreheads to touch. "I can take you away from this terrible place, but only if you ask. We cannot intercede in matters which do not directly relate to our missions to such an extent without a direct request. You must desire it."

When she pulled back far enough to search his face, pain was written all over him. He wanted to say yes, to give her the request, but he could not. The Uruk shook his head.

"I must accept the consequences of my actions. I chose this. I began down this path, and now I must walk to its end, whatever that might be," he murmured, and just as all those years ago, he could see agony in her eyes. He attempted to soothe it the only way he knew how. "I have found a name, melda heri. 'Adar.'"

A sweet, wet smile stretched her lips.

"Adar," she breathed, and he could not help the feeling of anticipation that thrummed through him. It felt so right for her to call him that. He savored the feelings she'd inspired within him. She laid a hand over her heart and bowed her head. "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, heru Adar."

Though a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, she looked at him with such warmth that he thought his heart may burst.

"If you will not allow me to take you away from here," she began, caressing his cheeks, "then, please, let me do something smaller for you."

Unable to form words beyond the lump in his throat, Adar nodded his head. Wordlessly, she caught raindrops in her cupped palms, then blew into the pooled liquid until it began to glow, murmuring into it words which he could not understand. They did, however, sound familiar...like those which he'd spoken by the river so many years ago. Only when the water glowed as bright as daylight did she lift it to his lips and urge him to drink.

Adar obeyed without question, and as it trickled down his throat, he was filled with a warmth which he had not felt since those days spent together by the river.

"Might I ask what that was?" He inquired when it was gone. His voice still sounded raspy, but it was less gravel and more velvet - closer to what it had been before Morgoth. Speaking hurt less.

"Cauma," she whispered, laying a hand over his breast. Protection. His heart thrummed beneath his skin, but unlike so many years ago, it pumped black blood. Nevertheless, it responded to her, beating harder, stronger, more assuredly than before. "Protection that not even Morgoth can take from you."

"Thank you," he breathed. The words alone could never be enough. He wondered whether she knew how much he loved her.

Her lips met the corner of his mouth, and Adar's eyes fluttered shut.

"You do not need my protection, but you will always have it," she promised as she looked into his eyes one last time and stood. "You need only call my name and I will come. Never forget, Adar: you are stronger than any of them will ever know. You will see me again ere long. Do not give in, and do not forget who you are."

And before he could tell her that she was more lovely than anything under or amongst the stars, she was gone, borne away by the wind and rain amidst which she had arrived. Adar allowed himself to weep silently at the loss of her, but he was still dehydrated enough that no more tears fell.

He pulled himself together after several long moments, locking away his feelings as they had been before, so that neither Morgoth nor his lieutenants would know of his love for her.

Several days later, when Sauron finally came for them all, he looked down at the Moriondor one by one and asked them questions in a voice too low for the others to hear until it was their turn. Adar looked up as his master's lieutenant stepped before him, bearing a black, metal goblet.

"There was rain a few days ago," he began in that same low voice. "Did anything about it seem...unusual? Did anything or anyone appear to you amidst it?"

Adar knew immediately that Sauron meant his lady. How could he not? Regardless, he did what he always did when he guarded that last private bastion of his heart. He steeled his nerve and looked into the eyes of the deceiver.

"No. There was nothing more than poison rain," he replied in his dehydration-ravaged rasp of a voice. Every syllable should have hurt, but it did not, nor did he look away from Sauron's face. He did not flinch from the evil before him, daring it to call him a liar. If he received a punishment for hiding knowledge of her existence from the darkness, so be it. She was worth it. She was worth more than his life ever was.

With the snap of his fingers, however, Sauron released his bonds. The chains fell away with a loud, metallic clank, and Adar collapsed forward. His arms had been held at such an extreme angle for so many days that at first he could not move them. With patience and no small amount of pain, he managed to get to his knees. When he straightened, Adar found Sauron offering him the goblet.

"Drink. You have earned it," he said in that saccharine voice. The wine was as red as a blood moon. Almost too red.

On that dark and nameless peak, Adar drank it all down to the last drop. He relished it, though the taste was foul like everything else in this horrid land.

As he and the others followed Sauron down from the top of the mountain, he allowed himself the smallest moment to contemplate what she'd said. If he truly possessed strength unknown to the forces of darkness, then he would keep that knowledge a secret for as long as he could. He would not disappoint her by showing his hand too early.

--

After that fateful reunion, Adar's lady returned to him several times, shrouded by that same light-filled rain, or mist when they were in the subterranean parts of Utumno. Their meetings were short, but so desperately needed if their physical closeness was anything by which to judge. Many times they huddled together in out of the way passages and little known crevices.

Over time, he came to know that she was more than one of the Maia yet less than one of the Valar. She'd earned her own title: the Lady of Reflections. Shining light into the dark parts of one's soul and helping the viewer to learn from what they saw, she'd earned the respect of leaders from nearly every race in Middle Earth. Dwarves called her friend, Elves listened to her council with measured wisdom, and Men...well, as Men were more corruptible than others, they often feared her as much as they valued her advice.

No wonder Adar had felt as though she could see the depths of his fëa! The day she revealed to him the facts of her nature, he'd looked away from her, ashamed of what she must see within him. The Uruk surely disgusted her, or so he thought. Gently, she had pulled him into a hug, whispering reassurances against his neck as if she actually cared about someone as broken as he.

He did not pull away, though. Adar was not strong enough for that. He needed her, no matter how horrid he might be to her. She called him beautiful and gentle, and though he did not take those words to heart, her attempt to make him feel better still forced a blush onto his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.

She laid soft kisses across his burning skin and called him sweet, which only made his reaction more pronounced. Thankfully, she'd allowed him to hide his face in the crook of her neck.

Those moments were peppered through the decades, brief, pleasant memories with which Adar sustained himself. Not long after that night on the peak, however, the War of Wrath began, and their meetings became more sporadic.

The air and ground shook with the rage of the Valar as they fought their enemy upon every front. From Utumno, Morgoth's armies made of monsters, Balrogs, unnamed evils, and Uruks poured forth. Morgoth never seemed to care for the fates of Adar's children, although truthfully, he never expected the dark lord to. He'd used torture to create them, so what would their pain mean to him?

After a particularly brutal loss, Adar took the punishment meant for his children. Morgoth had blamed them, though the loss was not their fault, and Adar could not let them face the horror of their master's wroth. Stepping bravely forward, he claimed responsibility for their actions as both their commander and their father. He insisted that he, instead, should take their punishment.

He expected to be killed for such insolence, but Morgoth had something more sadistic in mind.

Adar was stripped, flogged until his already-scarred back was in tatters, paraded through the camp in shame, and tossed upon the ground before his tent. He couldn't remember doing it, but he managed to crawl his way to his sleep roll and collapse onto his front. It could have taken minutes or hours, but he managed it. His eyes shut, and he did not expect to open them again. The pain radiating through Adar's back kept him from sleep, but he did slip into a deep, nearly meditative state.

Tears dripped slowly down his cheeks, and in a breath he expected to be his last, he whispered her name - his lady's name. He'd kept it locked up so tightly in his chest that this utterance carried more weight than even that of his love for her. Even if he could not see her again before the end, he could at least savor the taste of her name one last time. Would she ever know that his last thoughts were of her?

He should have told her how much he loved her before all of this began. Coward. He was a foolish Elf, then a cowardly Uruk. There was so much he'd never done.

As he remembered the river, the poetry, and the light of her eyes upon the peak of the desolate mountain upon which she'd found him, he lost consciousness.

--

His call did not seem real at first. A whisper across miles and consciousness, Adar's voice had sounded weak - a barely there plea for help. She'd been taking counsel with her father, the Lord of the Tides, when she heard his voice.

She did not hesitate, leaving in the middle of a sentence with barely an apology. Her rain fell with a vengeance when she entered Morgoth's encampment, creating muddy puddles in the trenches and cart ruts. Her armor gleamed in the darkness above her dress, her boots leaving behind nary a footprint in her wake.

Very few Uruks could see her to begin with, and all who did that day saw an incalculable rage in her eyes as she stalked through the lines, looking for their Lord Father. One very brave soul made his way to her and bowed low, stopping her in her tracks.

"C-Can I help you, my lady?" He asked, and she cocked her head curiously.

"What is your name?" Calm and soothing, her voice alleviated some of his fears as he straightened his posture. No wonder Adar never refused her company when she appeared in their camp.

"Gulug, my lady," he said looking upon her with wonder. He'd never seen eyes that gleamed and glowed like hers. The Uruk removed the cloth covering his head, clutching it between his clawed fingers like a Man would with his hat.

"It is an honor to meet you. Would you take me to Adar? It is urgent."

The Uruk acquiesced without hesitation, bowing again slightly before leading her toward the Moriondor's tent.

"I should warn you, my lady. The dark lord was not happy. He was going to take out his anger on us, but Lord Father drew his gaze away," Gulug muttered as they shuffled through the gloom. Shame filled his voice. "He took the punishment for us."

The Maia placed her hand gently upon the Uruk's shoulder when they reached their destination.

"Your Lord Father loves you very much. Please, for Adar's sake, do not tell anyone that I was here," she murmured, and because her gaze was so earnest, Gulug agreed easily. She began to move away, but he caught her hand in his, making her turn back to look at him curiously.

"Who are you, my lady?" He asked, and she offered him a small smile.

"The Lady of Reflections. A friend who now owes you a debt," she answered. "Should you or your descendants need assistance, they need only mention your name. If it is within my power, I shall help. You will know when the time is right."

Gulug released her arm and bowed low, thanking her several times before she disappeared into Adar's tent. The rain felt much more welcoming when he'd met its maker, even if its presence never failed to send Morgoth into a rage since he could not perceive its source.

--

When he woke, Adar believed that he was dead. How could he be alive after what he'd experienced? And why would gentle fingers be skimming through his hair, smoothing away the tangles and lingering upon the nape of his neck?

Fear, belated yet potent, stirred within his breast, urging him to try and lift his aching body out of harm's way. When he began to move, his back protested instantly, and he whimpered in pain.

"Stay still. Moving will only hurt you," a voice murmured above him, and Adar's eyes flew open. Beside him knelt the Maia with whom he'd fallen so desperately in love. "I have not been here long. You called out to me so faintly, I thought I would be too late."

Adar struggled to make his tongue form the correct words.

"I...am still alive?" He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but from the sad expression that crossed his lady's face, he knew he had failed.

"You are, and for that I give my most heartfelt thanks to the Valar," she answered as her fingertips traced the sharp curve of his cheekbone and jawline.

"I am sorry. I should not have...You do not deserve to see such carnage," Adar rasped as regret twisted within him. "You are made for sunlight and trees and dancing, not watching corrupted beings suffer. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." Her voice was so warm and steadfast that Adar believed her. Despite all his doubts and fears, he believed her. "I am grateful that you called me."

"Please...do not leave me," he whispered, needing her courage to supplement his own. He sounded like a frightened child, and he would not have scoffed at the comparison. Despite the rain pattering a constant, soothing rhythm against the cloth of his tent, none of it leaked through.

"Hush, meldanya," she breathed. "I am here, and I am going nowhere."

She laid her hand on the ruined plane of his back, and the single jolt of agony he felt disappeared as quickly as it came. Light filled his tent, reflecting off the surface of her gleaming, discarded armor and caressing his skin in liquid trickles of respite.

A sob of relief tore from him when the pain stopped. His eyes fell shut again as his body trembled, and he reached his hand out until he grasped the edge of her dress. The light, beautiful fabric flowed over his fingertips, and for a single moment he was there, again, at the river bend.

A dull thud beside him pulled him back to the present...to the battlefield and his tent. Adar opened his eyes. His lady had collapsed beside him, blood seeping through the back of her dress. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.

She'd taken his injuries. With whatever power her light possessed, she had taken his pain and his wounds and replaced them with comfort, marring her own back in the process.

"No," he rasped, forcing himself to move despite the persistent ache of exhaustion in his limbs. He shifted onto the floor beside her, caressing her cheek as he watched her dress bloom a horrible, undeserved red. "No, no, meldanya, what have you done?"

Quickly, he laid her atop his bedroll and started tending to her as he would anyone else who was injured. Carefully pulling away the fabric covering her back, he realized he knew more about her injuries than most who attempted to heal their patients. He was intimately familiar with every gash. He knew which parts would hurt her most, and gathered what meager healing supplies he had. Before he could apply his admittedly rushed treatment, however, she caught his hand and whispered his name.

He startled at her abrupt return to consciousness but turned his attention to her lips instead.

"Peace. Still your hands and calm your frantic mind," she murmured, and at the small smile she offered him, he forced himself to relax. "Watch."

Obeying her command, Adar turned his gaze to her poor back and noted with shock that already the skin was knitting itself together. To his horror, however, it was healing how his own wounds did - with knots and whorls, raised ridges and hollow divots which spoke the unique language of pain. The smooth canvas of her back had become a map of scars illustrating the cruelty and rage of the Uruk's master.

"You should not have done this. Not for me. I sought the darkness, I am not worthy of such a gift," he breathed without real thought. Every word was true, and though he was the one who had taken the beating, she still bore consequences which she should never have encountered. "You should not have wasted such grace on me. I could never repay such a kindness. I will spend the rest of my time trying to find a way, nonetheless, I swear it."

She pushed herself up on her forearms until she was kneeling before him. There was certainly an urge to allow his gaze to slip down to her exposed chest, but he was no monster, despite his scars. Her dress had fallen as she'd lifted herself up, but she obviously did not care. Why should she? She was exquisite in every conceivable way. Adar knew, though, that after what she'd done for him, she likely would not appreciate his gaze roving where it ought not.

Instead, he focused squarely on her face. Already she looked healthier than the moment before, but she now wore a concerned frown.

Was everything that she did beautiful?

"Adar...darling, I did not do this with the intent of seeking repayment. It is a gift for one whom I treasure...who has been with me always." Her small, gentle hands reached for him, but before she could touch him, Adar caught them in her grasp and began covering her fingers in kisses. His dark blood had dried in the bends of her knuckles and the lines of her palms.

Only upon tasting salt did he realize that his tears had escaped down his cheeks. When he finally lifted his head and chanced a glance at her he found himself entranced. Her eyes were the reflection of morning light upon the sea, turbulent and calm in turns. Her heart was both stout and gentle, and he deserved not one flicker of her attention. But, still she showered him with it. How she tolerated his folly, he knew not–

Soft, unmarred lips met his in the midst of his self-pity, and the Uruk's mind ceased to churn beyond the wondrous realization that she was kissing him. In the darkest depths of the world, she had deemed him worthy of both her help and her affection.

He realized a moment too late that he'd frozen in place at the contact, and when she pulled away, panic bloomed in his chest. She looked at him curiously, but before she could back away farther, Adar cupped her cheeks and kissed her just like he'd wanted to since the day they met. She was the apple of his eye, his most precious desire.

Feeling her melt into his arms was a pleasure he'd never expected to experience, but he did. He would treasure it for the rest of his days.

She shuffled close enough that her chest pressed against his, and animalistic triumph roared in his chest. He'd hungered for her for so long, but despite the impatience in his Uruk nature, he'd never push her further than she was prepared to go. After all, Adar loved her. Love was gentle. For he, he would be too. He steadied her with a careful grip on her bare waist, even though he felt anything but steady himself.

The rain continued on through the night, heavy enough for the pair to eventually lie down and fall asleep safely wrapped in each other's arms. She would have to leave in the morning, but for the moment, Adar savored her closeness.

For once, the scars on his nude body did not trouble him. How could they when she traced them so carefully with her fingertips?

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

melda heri - beloved lady

Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo, heru Adar. - A star shines on the hour of our meeting, lord Adar.

Cauma - protection

Black Speech:

agh burzum-ishi krimpatul - and in the darkness bind them

~*~

Taglist:

@asksizworld @bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge @zoya-olenko

[justpostsyeet]

Random elf : What is on your neck Lindir?

Lindir*adjusting is collar* : Nothing!

Random elf : Got frisky last night, didn't you?

Lindir*blushing* : yes

Also Lindir remembering how he challenged Mîr that she couldn't hurt him and she fucking bite his neck.

[batsyforyou]

Eönwë Sleep Headcanons

Pairing: Eönwë x reader

Tags: A bit of a ramble in the beginning, sleeping, wings, turning like a Rotisserie chicken, 

Warnings: Can’t think of any 

Author’s Note: I’m not back yet. I just wanted to post something before I lost it in my docs.

Depending on my mood I either Headcanon that Eönwë has long shimmering white hair or long warm brown hair, both with piercing blue eyes. 

Which means that in my brain the color of his wings are usually brown and cute in a birds coloring more than the rare coloring white gives him 

Don’t ask me how that works I don’t know either 

But considering that Maia and Valar are capable of changing their appearance it could be both. Like on days he spends besides Manwë he makes himself white? 

Though considering that white is actually a significant color to the Maia we can probably guess that between the two, he'd be white most of the time to establish rank. 

Why is this detail important? 

It isn’t really. But it depends on how glittery you want your cuddle bug, to be fair 

With the white I can easily see him shimmering more but with the brown I can see him being like a normal person. 

Sleeping with him can be a bit of a challenge as he normally doesn’t require sleep

He just lays down with you for the night simply for the excuse to hold you and for the intimacy of it 

He does struggle on finding ways to be comfortable though 

I don’t really headcanon that he is able to remove pieces of or reshape himself drastically 

So, his wings are the major problem factor and also the best factor 

Because of his height (me headcanoning that he is at least 13-15 feet tall) he is always concerned about hurting you somehow 

And while he would prefer to hold you while you rest on his chest his wings get in the way 

And laying on his side is also bothersome some times 

So he mostly just wraps you in his arms and turns on his different sides if he stays to still on one specific side 

He also does find enjoyment in cuddling with you while you sleep on your stomach 

He��ll curl his arms around you and lay his head on your lower back and rest over your bottom half 

That way he isn’t on his wings but he also isn’t crushing, he’s just sitting there like a weighted blanket 

Sometimes with how tightly he holds you to him or if he is wrapping you in his wings like some kind of feathery cocoon. You can sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with a feather or two poking at your mouth or tickling your bare skin.

But one of your favorite things about waking up in the mornings is that when you wake up well rested or not you always find a stray white or brown feather in your hair and that makes you smile. 

You usually keep such prizes and when he teases you, smirking up at you for collecting his feathers. You just playfully take the feather you found and tickle his nose with it. 

He runs at the perfect temperature never to cold or to warm 

Just like the feeling of being curled up in the grass as you lay in the sun 

Overall other than the constant movement Eönwë is an 8/10 sleep buddy

Masterlist

[thatcrazyreaderofcrazybooks]

Hello guys, I know for sure that this post is not about our beloved Maze Runner, but rather "the Artful Dodger", which in this period I’m starting to watch (ok I admit it, I haven’t started yet, but I watched a video explaining how Belle and Jack fell in love and how they fell in love at first sight of the series, in fact now I’m finding a way to watch it since I don’t have paid channels), however, as I said I’m already fond of that series, and so when I caught the eye on this photo of Thomas-Brodie (always in our hearts), and Maia hugged, I swear you could not post it!! THEY ARE. TOO. CUTE!!!! I LOVE them! I would like to adopt them but since I can’t think I’ll just kidnap them… Hehehe! Today I feel a little crazy, maybe because I’m going into withdrawal from Maze Runner and Artful Dodger… However I must confess that when I wrote my "Maze Runner playlist" I also wrote the songs for the Kill Order and the Fever Code, even if I haven’t read them yet, This is because I am so in tune with Maze Runner that the story ran through my veins even before I knew of its existence. All this to tell you: Saturday I get the Kill Order in paper, since the first 3 chapters I read them online, and so I’m super excited at the idea, so I’ll vent everything about you my dear supporters… Anyway you won’t have to bear me for today (maybe), because now I’ll click on public, so I’ll share with you these things that I wrote and then I won’t put my hands on Tumblr, at least for this minute…

[cilil]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and I don’t know if your requests are open ( if not I’m sorry just disregard this🫠) but if they are can you write something NSFW with Námo and a fem reader? Like maybe he sees her talking to someone in Mandos (like Feanor or someone) and gets jealous and then decides to remind her that she’s his? The spicier the better 🔥🔥🔥

Author's Note: I haven't officially opened requests for stuff outside of small events and challenges, but I was planning to do that sometime so why not~🖤

A Reminder

Characters: Námo/femMaia!reader Synopsis: Námo sees his favourite Maia spending a little too much time with a certain Noldo and decides to remind her that she belongs to him Featuring: Smut, BDSM, spanking, creampie Warnings: Explicit

"Come."

His command echoes within your mind, the force of his voice drowning out all others, and you find yourself losing focus on your current conversation. 

"My lord-?"

"Now."

You tremble slightly, causing the elven fëa in front of you to draw closer, thoughts of concern on his mind. Perceptive as ever, Fëanor has already noticed your moment of distraction and immediately asks, "Is something the matter?"

You compose yourself as quickly as you can and reach out with your fëa to send a few calming thoughts, not wishing to worry him. Given how gloomy and quiet the Halls of Mandos could be, conversing with the rebellious Noldo has become one of the more delightful activities for you – and one your fellow Maiar gladly leave to you, finding themselves exasperated by his temperament.

"I am afraid I must cut our conversation short," you respond and bow your head respectfully. "Lord Námo summons me."

"A pity." Fëanor regards you with a certain warmth, an unusual sight. It hasn't escaped his notice either that not many of both your and his own kind are willing to be in his company, and though apprehensive at first, your feelings of appreciation seem to be reciprocated. The thought makes you smile. 

"I will return in time," you promise, then hurry to appear before your lord. The sharpness in his tone earlier leads you to believe that he isn't in the mood to wait for you. 

Námo is sitting on his throne with an air of otherworldly elegance, one elbow placed on the armrest as he appears to be pondering some kind of issue. His eyes meet yours as soon as he senses your presence, and you feel heat and cold alike course through you like electricity. 

Something has displeased him. 

"There you are, my little raven." 

Námo's voice betrays nothing, yet he continues to regard you with thinly veiled discontent. 

"My lord," you greet him and bow deeply. "How may I assist you?" 

It feels strange to be so formal, you notice, after spending nights of passion in your lord's bed. Nevertheless, you know he prefers to court in private, and expects you to be on your best behaviour as a Maia of Mandos. 

Námo seems like he hasn't paid attention to your question, but doesn't keep you waiting for too long. "I appreciate your hard work and dedication, yet I must admit that I find myself displeased when I see you spending so much time with a certain Noldo." 

Your eyes widen. Until now, you weren't aware that he's been keeping an eye on you, let alone that he doesn't approve of your encounters with Fëanor. 

"He seemed like he was in need of company," you attempt to defend yourself, but Námo raises his hand, signalling you to be silent. 

"Your patience and kindness is commendable. My sister would certainly be proud," he says, yet in spite of praising you, his gaze betrays his displeasure. "And even so, you must remember that you belong to me first and foremost." 

Your fána heats up as his eyes roam your form, desire causing them to darken, and your heart flutters in your chest. You want to tell him that you do belong to him and no one else, but something tells you that Námo won't be satisfied with mere words. Not when he looks at you like this, not when he speaks to you with such possessiveness in his voice. He will seek to claim you once again, and the realisation sparks desire within you as well. 

You want to be his. 

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Námo suggests, though you both know his words are more akin to an order, and beckons you closer with a small wave of his hand. 

You nod, flushing red under your hood and approach his throne with shaky steps. Will he take you right here, you wonder, to show everyone to whom you belong? It seems like it when he pulls you onto his lap and starts kissing you roughly, capturing your lips with his while his hands take hold of your smaller fána. 

"P-please, my lord... not here–"

Námo lets out a quiet chuckle. "You don't want me to spread your lovely legs and take you in front of my court? I feel like you would enjoy it..." 

His hand reaches underneath your hood to seize a fistful of your hair, tugging lightly to expose your neck for better access. 

"But you have a point. The sight of your true beauty is mine alone to behold, and I don't want others desiring what belongs to me." 

"Námo-!" 

You barely manage to call out his name before the world around you suddenly shifts and blurs. He's bringing you somewhere else, but you don't know where until your back hits something soft and you look up at Námo looming over you with a stern expression. A quick glance around reveals that you're lying on his bed, his left hand resting on your chest to hold you in place in case you choose to defy his silent command. You let all tension leave your muscles as proof of your obedience and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what should be done to remind you of your place. 

"Are you ready to be disciplined, little raven?" Námo asks. His voice is gentle and his mien relaxes as he utters those words, despite the lust and hunger shining in his eyes; even though he enjoys to be strict and dominant and his jealousy was very much genuine, he would never punish or claim you against your will. He knows he has acted on instinct and will not rob you of your chance to say no. 

"I am ready, my lord," you whisper and bite your lip, shifting on the bed as heat begins to pool inside you. "I think I very much am in need of discipline."

Námo accepts your words with a pleased nod. "A confession is the first step, but I am afraid you will still have to submit to punishment so you will remember not to stray too far from my side again."

You lower your gaze in a display of penitence. "Of course, my lord."

Both of you are more than aware that neither of you regrets this, yet you love to commit to playing your roles accordingly. Námo doesn't take off your robes, letting his hand trail down your body instead. Slowly and methodically, he pulls up your skirt to expose your lower body and removes your panties. You squirm in anticipation and watch as his long fingers wrap around your ankles and lift your legs with just one hand, pushing them closer to your chest to expose your backside. 

The first slap comes without warning, and you let out a soft gasp, realising that your lord intends to spank you. 

"Whom do you serve?" Námo asks, accentuating his question with another well-aimed slap to your other thigh. 

"Y-you, my lord–" 

Slap. 

"Articulate yourself properly." 

"I-I serve you, my lord..." 

A small smile, a curt nod. Nevertheless, he continues to spank you in-between questions. 

"And to whom do you belong?" 

"You – ah – I'm yours, my lord!" 

"Indeed." 

More slaps. Your ass and thighs start feeling warm. 

"Do you think I like to share what is mine?" 

"N-no, my lord..." 

"Very good, little raven. So where should you be?" 

"I should be... a-at your side... always–" 

Námo rewards you with one final slap, then rubs your reddened skin soothingly. Despite the pain – or perhaps because of it – you feel yourself getting wet. 

"Then you should know better than to spend all your time talking to rebellious fëar," he admonishes, "and if you keep disobeying me, I will have to use other means than just my hands next time." 

The prospect is tempting. You wonder if you should disobey him on purpose, just to see what punishment he will devise for you, but your thoughts are interrupted when Námo releases your ankles to spread your legs. He pushes two fingers inside you, letting out a content hum as he feels your wetness dripping onto his hand all too eagerly. 

"Good girl... so ready for me..." 

You can't wait to have him inside you. Thankfully Námo doesn't keep you waiting - you hear the rustling of fabric as he parts his robes just enough to free his erection and feel him entering you without further delay. He pushes slowly but steadily, savouring the feeling of your tight walls parting for him, and you claw at the sheets underneath you. 

"Ah– Námo-!" 

"Do you like this?" he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against yours while he speaks.  "Do you enjoy being claimed, my lovely little raven?" 

"Y-yes-!" 

Námo allows you a few precious seconds of adjusting to his size before he starts moving. It's not gentle lovemaking this time, no – he fucks you with hard, almost frenzied thrusts, strict and merciless like when he passes judgement, making sure to penetrate you as deeply as he can. While your moans and cries of bliss fill the room, your lord is a silent lover, listening to the beautiful noises you make instead. 

He seizes your legs once again and pushes them up to your chest to go deeper still, pleased as your smaller fána arches helplessly underneath him and the song of your pleasure increases in volume yet again. 

"So good for me, such a good girl..." Námo groans, pupils dilating in pure lust and hunger until his eyes are dark like a starless night. "I will fill you with my essence so you won't forget to whom you belong... so they will all know you are mine..." 

You can only nod in agreement, and he fulfils his promise shortly after, releasing deep inside you. It seems to you as if he couldn't wait to fill you up, couldn't wait to lay claim to you in the most intimate way possible, and you take all he gives you.

Námo stays inside you for a while, making sure not a single droplet of his essence is wasted, and starts humming a soothing tune. You know this is yet another way for him to mark you, leaving an echo of his song on your fëa like an invisible imprint, ensuring that neither Ainur nor the fëar of Mandos will dare to come too close to you; and this, too, you accept gladly. 

"All mine," Námo whispers and kisses your lips. 

"All yours," you mumble obediently, eyes falling close as a sensation of comfortable weariness slowly overcomes you. 

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[isahgrace]

Balancing needs and tasks

Every day was a cluster fuck of tasks you needed to complete and if you didn’t complete them then you would be stuck with more work the next day and the next, so balancing everything was your goal, too bad it barely worked, you were swamped with everything you needed to do and your bodies needs were facing the consequences, well that wasn’t the only thing that was, your friends were as well as your studies but still, it was dragging you down.

Maia had noticed that you weren’t responding to her messages and had tried to hunt you down and make sure you were actually looking after your health and not just your mothers and your studies. But you kept managing to avoid her, after all, if she could see how overworked and exhausted you were she would be dragging your ass to bed and forcing you to recover, but there was no time for that, assessments were due, tests were coming up, your mother's health was going through a rough patch and your father was being forced to work more, you had no time to care about yourself more than you already were.

Nothing was going how you wanted it to go and there was nothing you could do, it was as if someone had been flipping a coin to decide your fate and the outcome kept being negative, truly if you could fight someone so that all of this was easier you would jump at the chance, punch the fucker right in the face and make them apologies, but that was wishful thinking and a small dose of entertainment for you after reading the same texts over and over again.

You were living day to day, just waiting for your workload to lessen, and you didn’t even have time to think how you could have potentially made this outcome even slightly better, still once this was over you could collapse into your bed and sleep for longer than a few hours, you could eat a decent meal and not have to live off of energy drinks and caffeine, but that was the future, right now you had to finish two assessments, study for the test you had the next day, get more medicine for your mum, make dinner for her, the list went on and on, it was just a matter of timing it out and taking it a step at a time.

You would finish off the assessment you were currently working on, go out and get your mum's medicine, as well as ingredients to make a good, healthy dinner for her, then get back home, go over that assessment, send it off, cook your mum dinner, give her it and the medicine, finish off the other assessment eat something then study until two then sleep for about four hours, then start working on the next day's tasks.

Everything would work out fine if you just managed to do what you needed to do, put one foot in front of the other, type as if the keys were on fire and you could just touch them long enough for the letter to be registered on your laptop, multitask when need be. 

Everything would be fine.

Your schedule was just put on repeat, assessments, studying, looking after your mother, sleep, repeat, you were becoming an academic robot, your only focuses being the important things, nothing fun, nothing mentally healthy, nothing physically healthy, which was probably why you started coming down with a cold, burning the candle at both ends would do that to you after all, something Maia had always hypocritically warned you of.

So you worked, answering questions as best you could, giving meaning to things that didn’t need meaning most of the time, analysing book after book, texts, statements, quotes, reading word after word until it became nonsense and reading it more just because you needed to. It was just a few more days and then you would have no more exams, tests, or assessments, you would be given a break from your studies, a few weeks off where you can recover, a few weeks off where you can read the stories you had been putting off reading for your degree, a few weeks off where you can see your friends, catch up with them, see how they were doing, just enjoy yourselves and do some dumb things, a few weeks off where you can waste money on things you enjoyed, like good food, your friends, seeing movies you had been waiting to see, getting more books, going to the Sanguis bookstore and seeing the sweet owner.

But those were things you could wait to do, things you could do when you had more energy, more time. There were other things to do, you had a time limit after all.

And so it would go.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Sleep.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Sleep.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Sleep.

It seemed to never end, even when you accidentally burnt yourself making coffee one day it still continued, when you nicked one of your fingers cutting up some vegetables for your mum's dinner it still continued. When your dad finally had a chance to talk to you, see how you were doing, and if there was anything that needed to be fixed at home, it still continued.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Have more caffeine.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Sleep.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Have more caffeine.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Have another energy drink.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Sleep.

Wake up, check on your mum.

Make coffee check on the assessment work you had done the day before.

Edit the work you had done the day before.

Add new stuff to the assessment.

Have more caffeine.

Study for any test or exams you had.

Have more caffeine.

Make dinner for your mum.

Have an energy drink.

Give your mum her medicine and dinner.

Finish up any assessments you had to hand in that day.

Have another energy drink.

Eat something.

Have another energy drink.

Check what you need to do the next day.

Start on the next day's work.

Have something caffeinated.

Study for tests and exams.

Sleep.

Repeating and repeating until you felt as if you’d collapse. Repeating and repeating until nothing was left. Repeating and repeating until the four to five hours of sleep became four to three hours, three to two hours, two to one hour, an hour to power naps through the day. You lost track of time, it was just work work work, assessments, tests, exams, caffeine, look after your mum, caffeine.

Repeating

Repeating

Repeating…

[awbeca]

vcs leriam uma fanfic com a bia haddad?

[blackynsupremacy]

I NEED HELP! i got another idea for a smallville oc. i got her face claim and a bit of her background, but i just need a vote on a first name. any of these votes would be appreciated! 🫶🏾

Face claim: Maia Campbell

__________ Reynolds.

[lvvstudios]

Characters I'll write one-shots for:

Actresses:

Sadie Sink

Emma Myers

Sasha Calle

Hailee Steinfeld

Maya Hawke

Maia Michell

Netflix original shows:

Max Mayfield

Enid Sinclair

Robin Buckley

DC:

Kara Zor-El

Marvel:

Kitty Pryde

In short, every character I have a story about on my Wattpad as well as their actresses as well as others that I like 🤷‍♂️

You can also ask for preferences, but then I'll write it for all the characters/ actresses above

Request are welcome!

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Never Too Late - Part One: The Awakening

This is something entirely different from the things I've written before. I don't know what made me want to write this beyond hearing one of Adar's lines from S2E8. For those who stick around for this ride, thank you in advance. I know this might not be everyone's cup of tea, but here we go nonetheless! Things will begin (I hope) to make more sense in the second chapter.

Disclaimer: I know this is not how the Maiar or the Valar or any of canon works. I do not care. This writer is playing in a sandbox.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Maia!Reader

[A/N: There will be smut in future chapters, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: An exploration of Adar's origins, discussions of the first Elves, Elf x Maia romance, he falls first, feelings of unworthiness, fear, Morgoth's manipulation (discussed further in later chapters), brief mentions of pain, regret.

~*~

The whisper of the wind in the trees was hypnotic to the Elf with no name. He was among the first to wake. He'd tasted the sunlight as it spilled across his lips in gentle caresses for the first time. Warmth had trickled into his limbs, and soon he'd found himself wandering happily, joyfully through a meadow full of flowers.

For a time he continued in that manner, exploring the world around him, lying in the sun on a riverbank, tasting the sweetness of berries as they hung ripe in the sunlight. Occasionally he would encounter others who looked like him. Other Elves who did not yet have names. Though they did not know it, they would earn them in time.

A small group formed together, giving each other names and forming a small community in the newly-made world. In time, he found that he enjoyed crafting words into set structures, playing with them as one of the other Elves toyed with carving wood, and as another painted pictures.

As he tinkered, he found that the name given to him was not right. It did not fit him correctly. The meaning was not how he saw himself, but he did not argue it, choosing instead to string more words together. They could know him however they wished, but that name was not how he knew himself. The land, the light, and the beauty of the world inspired him to create stories and poems. After a time, however, he found that the flow of his words had slowed in favor of simply experiencing that which he found so lovely.

So, when the thought struck him to walk along the riverbank he favored so much and listen to the birds singing in the trees, he did not hesitate to strike out. Familiar sights and scents surrounded him, wrapping him in a veil of contentment.

Then a different sound met his ears: the gentle whisper of fabric amongst the breeze. The Elf's green eyes opened curiously, and he looked around him for what could have made such a noise. His own clothing - brown leggings and an off-white tunic - were too silent to have done so.

That was when he caught a glimpse of her for the first time. She seemed to glow of her own accord, despite the brightness of the sunlight streaming down upon them. A dress that seemed to glimmer in the light adorned her, translucent and bright. But it was her eyes that drew him to her. They met his for barely a moment, but in that glance, the Elf felt as though she called to his fëa.

She gave him a small smile, and flitted back into the trees as quickly as she'd appeared. So amazed was he by the appearance of such an ethereal creature that he could do no more than follow mutely in her path.

But, he did not find her that day, nor the next. For nearly a fortnight, all he had to remember her by were the dozen-or-so poems that had poured forth from his mind the night after spotting her. He read them aloud to himself by the riverbank amongst the swaying sage blossoms as he tried to perfect them. She - whoever she was - had captivated him and deserved no less than the most perfect tribute.

The way she'd smiled at him made him long for more. To see her laugh, to watch a sunset with her, to feel the rain dampening his skin as he held her in his arms. Undoubtedly, this was something important. He'd seen other Elves feel this way about each other, but never about one who was so clearly Other. Granted, their existence was young, but without a precedent, the Elf wondered what he was to do about these feelings.

Midway through the revision of one the poems he'd written for her, he paused his reading and scratched out a line in favor of a correction. He was so lost in his work that he did not register the sound of approaching footsteps until someone knelt in the grass beside him. The Elf looked up and–

Paralyzed by the warmth in her gaze, he was amazed to find the very woman he'd been writing about was less than a hand's breadth from him. The wind swirled around them, blowing a few strands of his dark hair into his face. Before he could fix it, however, she reached up and brushed it carefully behind one of his pointed ears. Her touch lingered for a beat longer than it should have, and the Elf felt his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Her skin was softer even than that of his own people! He could write for years about the simple sensation of being so close to her.

"Such beautifully-crafted words." Her praise was more nourishing than even the most filling meal.

"For you, my lady," he admitted in barely a whisper. "All for you. No greater beauty have I seen in all my days as a part of this world."

His voice was so quiet that he was afraid the breeze might spirit it away before it reached her ears, but she heard him. Of course she heard him. A warm smile stretched her lips, and a silvery laugh spilled from her throat.

"Oh? And what have I done, kind wordsmith, to earn such a gift?"

'Existing' was the simple answer, but he could not say that aloud. It was too honest, too forward. She would surely be offended by such a low creature's desires. He shook his head quietly.

"Wonders deserve to be praised, híril vuin," he murmured dropping his gaze to his paper.

"Then, should you not be writing about yourself?" He question drew an incredulous laugh from him, but she was entirely serious. "The light of the Valar lives within your people."

He shook his head.

"You are light itself," he asserted. "I could hope for no greater a muse than you."

They spoke for many hours that day and for many days after. Those days added up, and the pair continued to meet beside the river or amongst the trees, speaking of everything and nothing, wandering where they wished.

He did not mention having seen her to the others, but he did overhear a few of them, one night. They were speaking around a fire, taking turns speaking about the Valar and the Maiar. He paid no mind until one of them mentioned something familiar.

"One of the Maiar hides within the woods near the river," the blond Elf said. "She has been glimpsed, but none have spoken to her. I witnessed her eyes glowing from deep in the trees, but before I could approach, she disappeared."

"Why would one of the Maiar hide in the forest, much less take a physical form?" One of the others with brown hair asked.

"Who can tell? It is not our place to know the minds of the Valar or the Maiar," the blond said decisively, and at that, the group began dispersing for the night. Only the blond Elf and remained when the Elf with no name approached him.

"What does she look like, the Maia in the forest?" He asked, knowing in the racing of his pulse that it was her to whom he'd spoken and about her whom he'd been writing. It was as obvious as the leaves on the trees and the sun in the sky.

"None can see any details beneath her glow, but that is not unusual. Those who have caught sight of the Maiar say that they only show themselves to those whom they wish. They can hide their visages, only taking physical forms when they choose to do so."

When he retired to bed that night, he clung desperately to the secret of their conversations together. She had chosen to reveal herself to him and only him. Even if he did not know why, he was honored, and he hoped he could one day prove himself worthy of her trust.

As the days became months, then years, there was a particular bend in the river where he would meet his lady. Wandering for hours, sometimes days, he became as close with her two people could without delving openly into the realm of romance, though, he did harbor those feelings for her. His heart raced whenever she was near, and he knew that should he ever have a family, he would want it to be with her.

But, he was not worthy. He never would be. No matter how much he may want a daughter with his hair and her eyes, or a son who favored his mother's light, an Elf could never be worthy of one a Maia's love.

As he returned one night, musing over his situation and feeling his heart twist itself into knots over the futility of his love, he found the others in an uproar.

"What has happened?" He called as he neared the group of terrified Elves.

"Three of our number rode out earlier. They were meant to return at sundown, but it is near midnight and there is no sign of them," one of the painters said, twisting the sleeve of his robe compulsively.

"They could simply be late." One of the others said trying to calm the group, but the painter wasn't swayed.

"No, they are lost! Taken! There was something dark at work this morn. Two of the three who left expressed misgivings about the Valar ere they left." With their numbers added, that made seven so far who had disappeared. "'Tis the darkness! The shadows seek to blot out the light, even that within our hearts."

That was the beginning of his trouble. Hearing his kin speak of such darkness ignited within him a curiosity. He wished to understand why those who left chose to do so. Why would they willingly put themselves at risk when they had everything they needed here? The Valar provided for them in abundance. Why should they seek the bleak nothingness of the shadow?

So, in his attempts to understand, he began to study that which he should not. The shadow no longer seemed as dangerous to him, but a welcome respite from the perfection of the light.

In his zeal, he began visiting the river bend less frequently, but his lady appeared no less glad to see him when he did make the trip to see her. On the last of such occasions - which he had no way of knowing was the last - the sun was gentle, the river babbled away happily, and the trees shivered beneath a soft breeze. Everything was sweet and lovely...perfect.

Even the way she looked at him was particularly tender. He read her his latest composition, but he found midway through that his words, as excellently chosen as they always were, did not adequately express how he felt about her. Eventually, her fingers laid atop his arm, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Darling wordsmith, what troubles you?" She asked, and he felt exposed before her. Guilt wound its way through his heart for having explored what he ought not. Would she recoil from him? Cast him from her sight forever? Instead of a confession, however, a question slipped from his tongue without his permission.

"It has been said that one of the Maiar wanders this wood. Are you she?" He asked, and she did not hesitate to smile up at him.

"I am, but you have known that for quite some time." Brushing a few strands of his dark hair behind his ear as the wind shifted, she lifted an eyebrow. "Now, what truly troubles you?"

Swallowing nervously, he caught her wrist lightly in his grasp, laying a reverent kiss upon her skin. He had never been so bold before. He had never dared touch her or express his adoration so openly.

She did not object or move away.

"I trust you have heard about the Elves who have disappeared?" She nodded her head even as her expression became solemn. "I have been considering a course of action for some time, and...I intend to seek them out."

The Elf with no name looked for the woodland Maia's reaction only to find tears gathering in her eyes and spilling slowly down her cheeks - sparkling, diamond droplets seemingly glowing of their own volition. The sight lit a spark of alarm within his breast, constricting his lungs and urging him forward until he'd gathered her in his embrace.

With a bit of adjustment, she sat in his lap with her face buried in the crook of his neck and her arms around him. He held her close, but he could not find the right words to say to her. Ultimately, he murmured to her his apologies and felt one of her hands glide onto the back of his neck. Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and she spoke barely above a breath.

"Should you need me, you need only call my name." She told it to him, and he could not help clutching her tighter at the sound of that word encapsulating all that she was. Eventually, she pulled back just far enough to press her forehead softly against his own. "I will always come when you call. All I ask is that you do not surrender your own light. You will need it ere long."

Her nose touched his briefly as he swore to her that he would do as she said, and grief coiled in his heart when he felt how damp her skin was. He had not meant to make her weep. Reaching carefully up, he cupped her face in his warm palms and whispered quiet comforts. She deserved more than this - every happiness in the world, in fact - but he would still give her all that he was able.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to be bound to her as her husband. An Elf could never be worthy of a Maia, but he imagined what it would be like to be entangled with her like this every day. Her tears or her laughter, soft sighs or pleasure-filled breaths - anything she chose to give him would be a gift beyond measure, just as this moment was.

She allowed him to comfort her, to hold her. He savored the contact, even if he did regret bringing her unwelcome news. They stayed there on the riverbank until long past midnight. The moonlight, gentle and cleansing, caressed their faces as they lay down in each other's arms. Quietly, he caressed her face, tracing the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, the softness of her smile.

When they eventually parted, it was only after she'd placed her hand over his heart, whispering words in a language which he did not understand. Her fingers had begun to glow, and that light bled slowly into his chest, floating seemingly beneath his skin until her touch retreated. He did not know what she'd done, but the determined glint in her eyes made him wonder if it was some form of protection.

With great reluctance, he returned to his home. Before the next morning dawned, however, a call trickled into his ears, rousing him from his rest. It was time. All that he ever desired awaited him. He need only seek it. Low, guttural, and tugging at his very being, the voice - if it could be called a voice - dug a tendril of shadow into his mind.

He and five others rode away before daybreak.

The journey was a blur, and when he came back to himself, he found that all six of them were in a cave. Their horses were gone.

The Elf with no name looked around him but could perceive only darkness. Only shadows writhing and dancing before him. He'd been tricked. This was not the liberation he'd been led to believe the others had sought, nor was this something from which he could save them.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?" He called into the oblivion surrounding him, and a sinister laugh curled from its depths scratching fear from deep within the Elf's heart. The other five shuddered as well, but smiles broke across their faces. Was he alone in his regret?

"I am Morgoth." The voice seemed to echo and twine through the darkness, through the air, and bury itself deep within his heart. The Elf with no name dropped to his knees along with his kin.

He assumed that the voice in the darkness, the being who called himself Morgoth, would kill them. Mournfully, he recalled the face of his lady, his muse, his joy. How disappointed she would be with his actions! When she visited the river next, she would not find him there. No longer would he be able to write and recite poetry for her. Gone were the days wandering through the forest with her, seeking its privacy for their conversations.

He had not been worthy of her - his current position proved that - but he still lamented the thought that his death would sadden her. Her gentle spirit would not allow the death of a friend - low creature though he may be - to pass without notice. He had seen her weep before and it nearly shattered him to pieces even as he comforted her. He would not be there to do so this time.

The darkness rumbled again, and this time, pain streaked up his legs, making him crumble to the ground as he cried out.

"Six you are, and seven have come before you. Those who survive will be rewarded, but live or die, you are mine, now."

What had he done?

~*~

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[proqhetic]

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