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" I did not. " he responds as he settles in, eyes closing as he sighs into her touch, all gentleness within her fingertips. When they open again he smiles, and with a small laugh continues. " though, I may have. . .cut more to the heart of things than usual. No beating around the bush, or rambling sessions. It was all business. "

his fingers slid beneath her hair and rested on her neck, thumb caressing pulsepoint lovingly. " was it the shadows that troubled you then, melithil? " he inquired, searching her ichor gaze for something more. all the while, he stretched out his power and with Vilya searched to the edges of the valley for any hints of a darker presence. To those in the unseen world, it would have felt like a tidal wave pushing out and away from his moonkissed love as he asked " what have they done to leave you so disturbed? "

He can feel @sungsilver's mood as deeply in his chest as if it was his own, marriage bond strumming in distress. The council had emptied early, and with papers passed to Erestor, he has time on his hands to use. Elrond moves through the hallways of Imladris seeking his wife, and at last he finds her, sitting in the Hall of Fire alone, the sounds of a harp reaching his ears. Her music plays like the melancholy of her heart, and he approaches with reverent slowness.

at last he reaches her, hand upon her shoulder, he leans down to press a kiss to her hair in silent comfort. " you are troubled, meleth nin. " he whispers, reaching for a chair which he pulls beside her to sit, his hand unwilling to leave her form as it moves from her shoulder to her face. " tell me? "

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He can feel @sungsilver's mood as deeply in his chest as if it was his own, marriage bond strumming in distress. The council had emptied early, and with papers passed to Erestor, he has time on his hands to use. Elrond moves through the hallways of Imladris seeking his wife, and at last he finds her, sitting in the Hall of Fire alone, the sounds of a harp reaching his ears. Her music plays like the melancholy of her heart, and he approaches with reverent slowness.

at last he reaches her, hand upon her shoulder, he leans down to press a kiss to her hair in silent comfort. " you are troubled, meleth nin. " he whispers, reaching for a chair which he pulls beside her to sit, his hand unwilling to leave her form as it moves from her shoulder to her face. " tell me? "

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Pride and Prejudice (2005) dir. Joe Wright

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ELROND appreciation 06/∞ S2E8 "Shadow and Flame"

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Henrik Ibsen, from a play titled "The Wild Duck," featured in Six Plays by Henrik Ibsen

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Gil-Galad: Sometimes I feel very much like a puppet king.

Elrond: *Doing Gil-Galad's paperwork* What makes you say that?

Gil-Galad: I was just asked what I felt about a new charity I supposedly put the royal seal on.

Elrond: Sign this.

Gil-Galad: This! This is why I feel like a puppet king! I have no idea what I am signing!

Elrond: You could just read them instead of doing what I tell you to.

Gil-Galad:

Elrond: You didn't think of that, did you?

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'IF ITS TRUE' FROM HADESTOWN

📷: @bikinibottomdayz

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@sungsilver redirected from here

SLIGHTEST  ALTERATION  OF  ATTIRE  AS  OF  LATE.  lines  which  dip  below  soft  breast  and  plunge  the  delicate  curve  of  her  spine  to  accommodate  the  WARMTH  OF  SUMMER.  light  as  silk,  twice  as  sweet  when  measured  in  mirth  and  mischief.  his  touch  follows  the  same  pattern  feather  light  up  and  down her  back  and  almost  taunting  —  all  knowing. and  his  is  one  unlike  any  other;  skilled  fingertips  worn  by  knowledge  and  blade.  fëa  unravelling  her  resolve  through  their  connection  (  not  a  difficult  task  when  near  him  ).  here  amongst  this  crowd,  celebrían  is  full  of  haste  to  run  from  it.  content  to  listen  as  elrond  wove  lore  unto  listening  ears  and  she,  smiling  along.  every  gaze  upon  her  would  conclude  how  affectionate  she  was  and  while  that  were  true  only  he  could  spot  the  wild  and  hunger  stirring  in  gold.  only  he  could  FEEL  it. she  sings  a  subtle  yet  AUDIBLE  gasp  as  fingers  track,  setting  every  nerve  alight  with  desire.  her  mind  races  with  familiar  stirrings  that never  quell.  Intent  and  unending  need  for  what  blooms  in  her  soul,  how  in  tune  her  heart  shudders  and  purrs  in  the  cage  of  her  chest.  were  there  not  a  dozen  eyes  upon  them,  a  thought  warped  through  bond  with  the  bite  of  her  bottom  lip  in  endearing  bashfulness…attentions  drawn  towards  the  silver  maiden  with  flush  crept  across  her  porcelain  cheeks.  ❛ forgive  my  interruption.  ❜  she  clutched  at  his  knee  beneath  the  table,  intentional grip tracing upwards  as a honeyed  grin  addressed their  tables  company.  ❛  i  must  absent  myself—it  seems  summers  heat  has  me  feeling  a  bit  flustered. 

SHE IS TEMPTING, THOUGH WHEN IS SHE NOT? Loving gazes lingered upon her for the evening had finally taken Elrond's wandering mind to other gardens. The liberties that only he could take were for him to observe between the words of conversation around the table, played out before his mind with Celebrian as their focus. She wore that dress which distracted his attention, pulling it over and over to thoughts not appropriate for a public setting. His fingers had a mind of their own, and gave into the temptation of stroking her skin.

It provided a modicum of focus, and with it he was capable once more of holding a conversation without stumbling over his words. An effect that was uniquely had in her presence. Yet the lingering problem still haunted him, felt double through their bond, and he began considering excuses to leave early. Surely it wouldn't be hard, and frankly he preferred the quiet of their chambers to the noise of the accumulated guests. But he could be patient, he had to be.

. . . And then he wasn't.

he could still feel her hand on his thigh, and the tremors of desire through her fëa, shared in his own--and his mind refused to let go of her final look to him as she had departed. Excuses were made on the pretext of needing to get something from his study, and he followed her within a minute. He caught up quickly, and without missing a step long fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her toward his study. He needed a lock on a door and zero interruptions, but if he took her to the bedroom they would not leave for the rest of the night.

"Summers heat? You minx." He repeated with a laugh, rounding into the empty corridor which led to his study. He was already impatient to have her alone and undisturbed. "I like that dress, it suits you. Though it may not suit dinners with other, unless you intend to be affected by Summers Heat. Which. . ." He tugged her into himself his mouth descending to her ear. " you could always do that in our chambers, with less clothing than this."

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Words by Laura Jean Truman

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“The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful.”

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

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ELROND PEREDHEL in season 2 of The Rings of Power

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just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force.

honey and wildfire are both the color gold.

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Part: 160/?

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Janet Fitch, from her novel titled "White Oleander," originally published in 1999

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CHAOS. IT FILLED THE VERY AIR THEY BREATHE, as if it would last forever. Elrond is a healer by nature, not a fighter, yet love and devotion has brought him to this place of twisted steel and broken lives as readily as bees to flowers. Fire fueling in his blood, the training of a foster father torn apart by shadows ringing in his mind. Maedhros would be proud, Earendil would be grieved--but Elrond doesn't care. His drive is love, love for those who he can save, and fear for those he cannot. HE IS MANY THINGS, BUT HE IS NO DEITY, THOUGH HE IS AS FIERCE AS ANY MAIAR COULD BE. It sings in his blood, beyond himself, and he wondered if this was how those who fought the last great war felt.

WERE THEY AS DESPERATE AS HE?

Yet black blood spilled in every direction, and he was grateful for the presence of Amroth at his back, bellowing in guilt and trying to save whatever he could. He felt sorry for his friend, but it would have to wait until later, when they could speak without concern for their VERY LIVES.

Then silver moonlight cut into his sight, the sound of her meeting his ears in joy and terror. SHE SHOULD NOT BE HERE. And yet she was, he saw her like a star, and his life was spared by her blade, blackened with blood as were the splatters upon her dress and skin, though they could not mar her beauty in his eyes. She was never so lovely, and he was never so frightened, cutting down the last of orcs which stood still, lest they touch a single hair upon her head. Then he was there, standing with only her within his focus, Amroth could watch for a moment and keep them from further harm. "Are you alright?" he asks, but she does not hear him. "Celebrian!"

His dirtied hands touch her face, worry etched upon his features, yet she is not harmed it would seem, and soon is nestled in his chest like a child seeking warmth. His arms wrapped around her, TIGHTLY AND PROTECTIVELY, challenging anyone who dares to pry her from his grasp.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

DEATH  DOES  NOT  BECOME  HER.  dreary  shades  of  wretched  brutality  thick  as  tar  coat  hues  of  lightest  spring.  she  stares  in  disbelief  at  the  mark  of  her  own  hand,  frozen  to  soil  and  upheaved  moss.  dead  orc  upon  the  forest  ground,  the  love  once  given  to  them  by  way  of  fatherly  affection  became  untethered  without  him.  servants  of  sauron  once  more  and  within,  she  grieves  what  was  AND  YET,  SHE  WOULD  HAVE  DONE  IT  AGAIN.  it  was  clear  what  path  the  slain  had  charted  towards  the  herald.  engaged  in  combat  with  several  foe,  his  back  turned  and  celebrían  had  lurched  forward  from  her  hiding  spot.  heart,  body  and  fëa  moved  in  unison,  all  which  could  not  comprehend  the  loss  of  him.

labyrinth  of  thoughts  spiral  with  caught  breath.  aftermath  without  respite,  cacophony  of  echos  and  sounds  she  cannot  decipher.  heartbeat  thrumming  in  her  ear,  drowning  out  reason  and  amroth’s  booming  voice.  IT  IS  NOT  HE  WHO  FINDS  HER  FIRST  BUT  INSTEAD,  THE  EMBRACE  OF  SUMMERS  WARMTH.  blade  which  felt  so  foreign  in  her  grasp  drops.  a  gaze  that  has  become  so  ingrained  with  her  devoted  peace  pulls  her  back  from  the  beckoning  veil.  she  clutches  at  him;  frantic  scrutiny  to  make  certain  that  no  blade  nor  arrow  or  spear  had  touched  him.

in  her  haze,  his  thumb  swipes  so  gently  across  the  curve  of  her  jaw.  blood  coated  but  not  her  own.  as  the  silver  maiden  leans  into  elronds  touch,  she  slowly  comes  back  to  herself  (  to  him  ).   ❛ i  -  ❜  WHAT  DOES  SHE  SAY  BEYOND  WHAT  HAUNTS  HER?  WHAT  COMPELS  HER  TO  LONGING  AND  BREAKING  HER  RULES  OF  VIOLENCE  JUST  TO  REMAIN  IN  THE  QUIET  GLOW  OF  ALL  UNSPOKEN?  instead,  she  wraps  around  him,  moon-kissed  head  nestled  against  his  chest  to  listen  to  prove  of  life  in  his  beating  heart.

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb - @elrxnd