#*|* a peaceful valley untouched by evil *|* :: imladris

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Open | ask if you'd like it specified Muse: Elrohir Prompt: PRIDE month

confusion wasn't a emotion that Elrohir often felt, not when it came to himself. he knew who he was: the younger twin of Elladan, brother to Arwen, son of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian from Imladris. few rarely saw the twins away from each other for long; where one brother was, the other wouldn't be far away.

nothing had changed on the surface; nothing that was visible at least. but inside was a different matter. Elrohir had known for a long time that he wasn't fully straight, given his lack of interest in anyone. it had just been a sense of wrongness at the start. yet after his mother had sailed West, that wrong feeling became nearly overwhelming.

many of the Elves within the Hidden Valley thought it was sadness and grief of Lady Celebrian's leaving. but then the silver eyed elf started to avoid the odd parties and meals, where the presences of all the Lord's children were generally requested. at which point, concern started stirring.

neither of the twins were known for avoiding their duties and recently, Elrohir had been doing exactly that. so it was a matter of time until someone, namely his Ada, would want to know why.

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

For: Beleg | @thegreatstrongbow

It was hard going. Far harder than when he first returned to being Chieftain after losing his eye. Normality had once more changed again for Arathorn, after being turned into a werewolf. And two of his biggest hurdles were in the Trollshaws. He had been stood outside of Imladris for nearly a hour, battling with himself, and finally turned back towards the Bruinen Ford. Giving up.

[rangers-arecool]

@lordofthegoldenflower | reply to this ::

  “I don’t think that'll be possible.” Almáriel managed to return the smile as she joined him on the path, scanning around them. She wasn’t used to having company outside of Isildur’s family. Few of the new Gondorians dared to make the journeys she made and even less wanted to leave the sea.

  ”I wanted to get away from Minas Ithil for a while and Isildur needed a parcel delivered to his father.”

[amid-ice-and-snow]

For: Open (within reason) Muse: Elrohir Verse: Elfling years

the Elves of Imladris were calm, graceful folk, who were quite happy to remain in the safety of the Hidden Valley and stay away from any panic inducing issues. which worked from the start of the Third Age, until the year 130. when the Lord and Lady unleashed two identical mischief causing terrors into the world; also known as their twins, Elladan and Elrohir.

most of the time, their mischievous ways brought smiles and laughter, especially when the elflings pranked someone. but there were also moments when the twins were the causes of panic and fear. things could normally get resolved rather quickly though, usually their parents stepped in.

this time however, was different.

the Lady of the Valley had taken the older of the twins to visit her parents in Lothlorien. she had planned to take both but Elrohir point blank refused to cross the Redhorn Pass, so he stayed with Lord Elrond. most of the time, the small elfling was happy enough to play and sleep while his father worked nearby.

two hours was all the Lord had asked for. a request that should have been manageable yet instead, Elrohir's caretakers had managed to completely lose him within the first few minutes. almost two hours later, no one had been able to find him and panic was setting in. for the sunlight was starting to fade and there was still no sign of the elfling.

[tanoraqui]

This is the last you’ll get of this AU for a while, I think. Until then...bonus points to whoever accurately guesses where/when Whitestone comes in!

[Prologue / 1 / 2 ]

Flashback to several hundred years ago:

Vex did not fall back onto her bed so much as fling herself delightedly, with the express purpose of bouncing. The famed elven bards of Rivendell had, this night, utterly failed to induce restfulness in their listeners.

“I shall be just like Luthien when I am older,” she announced. “Wham! Ha! Aaaa!” She punched the air, and sang a ringing note.

“And marry a human?” Vax, sitting calmly on his own bed, gasped in faux-horror. “Father would be furious.”

Vex rolled onto her elbows and grinned at him. “That is another benefit. You're growing so wise, brother.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She propped one hand under her chin and continued.

“I do wonder if Men are more...energetic, than Elves. You'd think so, wouldn't you, with how little time they have? It's not just here - even back home, everyone is so dull. Slow. Not at all fun to-”

“Stop!” Vax put his hands over his ears. “I do NOT want to hear about you and...anybody, ever. Not in Mirkwood, not in this shitty house-”

Now it was Vex’s turn to stick out her tongue. But she abated her musing.

“Anyway,” said Vax, once it was safe to uncover his ears, “Tinuviel wasn't as badass as her father.”

“Thingol?” Vex’s voice could not have been fuller of scorn. “What did he do?”

Vax wobbled one hand in the air, palm up. “Banged a Man?” He lifted the other and shook it up and down firmly. “Banged a Maia.”

Vex replied, with that tone of almost genuine sympathy that only a sibling can truly achieve, “I really don't think Gilmore thinks of you the way you-”

A lesser being might not have caught the pillow, so quickly did Vax fling it at her face. But Vex’ahlia, daughter of Syldor, had come of age hunting beasts beneath the dangerous eaves of Mirkwood. Her reflexes were second to none.

“Shut up!” her brother shouted, already reaching for another pillow. “That's not what I- and anyway, no one knows whence- we were just talking, Vex’ahlia, it's not like-”

The rest of the scene was lost in quite a lot of torn cloth and flying feathers.

Even the great translator Professor Tolkien of Oxford University did not dwell, in his similar tale, on every detail discussed at the great council we now come upon. So nor shall I, overly much.

For some context, I should say first that Pike wakes after three days, and when she does, Gilmore has arrived at last, and they are delighted to see one another well. It had been a couple close calls: Gilmore had been attacked on Weathertop just a few days before Pike and her companions, by four of the Nine. As well as had some previous troubles of his own. And Pike, of course, had nearly passed away into wraithhood herself, the sliver of the Witch-Queen’s blade working its way steadily toward her heart for days. But Syldor Half-Elven* is a mighty healer, well-practiced in battling evil wounds of such type, though perhaps never so severe. But hobbits, as Gilmore has been saying for years, are surprisingly hardy folk.

The even dearer reunion is with Wilhand, who has been in Imladris for many years now. He earned his retirement in the Last Homely House with his own great deeds and adventures, if you will recall previous tales. There were several dwarves, and one dragon. He has gone a little deaf, now, and partakes a tad much of wine and sweetmeat—just think what the neighbors would say, he japes to Pike, once they are done hugging. After so many years of adventurous reputation, he’s acting like a respectable hobbit at last!

(This tale that I am telling now has fewer dwarves, and…well. We shall have to see about the matter of dragons.)

It is another couple days before Pike is well enough to see Grog, for he is camped out on the opposite shore of the now-quieted river. There is a limit to how far people will go to make good with unlikely allies, and that limit is an orc in Rivendell. Grog, frankly, agreed. The valley is too bright everywhere for his tastes. He has not been too alone: when Scanlan was not fretting at Pike’s bedside, he was across the ford, teaching Grog drinking songs from the Shire. With accompanying drink, of course. Minxie visited a time or two, and Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan more often. They brought much of the best drink.

First, however, the Council of Syldor. Dark times are come to Middle Earth, and so it is not just for Pike’s burden that people have assembled from near and far, seeking advice in trade for ill but urgent tidings.

From Uriel’s elven court of Mirkwood comes Allura, a lady and a scholar, to say that dark things are stirring once more in Dol Guldur. Not long did the fortress lay silent, after the cleansing dealt by the Wise back when Wilhand was out adventuring. Once more, spiders spin their webs, and orcs move and Black Riders have been sighted.

Lowbearer Vord, a dwarf of the Lonely Mountain, comes with his ward to bring similar news, and darker yet. War is brewing to the east, for the Lonely Mountain and Dale as well. Messengers have come in Vecna’s name to treat. They also ask after a hobbit, and a ring - “a trifle”, they say. Twice they have been rebuffed, but a third and final choice approaches…

Maryanne Darington of Minas Tirith arrived just this morning, with tale of a city beset and a dream most strange. For the latter, she seeks council; of the former, she speaks only with weariness and pride. Long has Gondor stood against the Enemy, and long shall it - she hopes. Osgiliath has fallen, and her brother’s dream spoke of Isildur’s Bane.

And what if that ring, that trifle, that doom of Elendil’s eldest son? That tale falls to Syldor, who was there for much of it - for times lost save in song and story, and the living memory of a very a few still on this earth.

I will not bore you with a retelling of those great events. The forging of the great rings, the betrayal of Sauron, the Last Alliance of Men and Elves… I’m sure you are likewise familiar with the parts of the tale that Gilmore fills in, of the finding of the One Ring by first one small person, and then another.

There, of course, the tale does a hop, skip, and a jump, as Wilhand tells his part - how he lost his party beneath the Misty Mountains and came across a small golden ring instead, as well as a young orc being strangled in the dark by a pale, slippery sort of being. This was the selfsame orc who had earlier tried to defend Wilhand against his own monstrous kin, so Wilhand sought to return the favor. Together, though it was not quite the tender-hearted hobbit’s plan, he and the orc killed the strange, frog-like beast, and tended each other’s wounds and escaped into the sunlight before parting ways.

That young orc, of course, was Grog, because orcs live as long as I, the storyteller, want them to live. He is very much not at this council - but while Pike was recovering, Gilmore and Minxie together got a story out of him, of wandering south and east, as countless of his kind were summoned over these last many years, and saw many terrible things and endured far, far worse, until the Great Eye knew the name “Trickfoot” and the race “hobbits”, and the land “Shire.”

(This, GIlmore tells with sympathy in his voice, and Wilhand takes and squeezes Pike’s hand as she shudders for their friend, remembering too well the Nine’s deathly cruelty. Because fuck you, Tolkien; even orcs don’t deserve that.)

Gilmore also speaks of his own recent captivity at the tower of Orthanc, at the hands of the wizard Curunir. (“Sauruman” in other tales, but in this world of Exandria, so enamoured was she of the name the elves gave her that she entreated its use by all, and they weren’t assholes so it stuck.)

So...the quest.

In the books, the moment is still, as they all stare at the Ring on the table in the center of the circle. This small, golden ring, which holds all their fates. In the films, there is shouting, discord already being sown by the power of the Ring. To guard it with the wisdom of Elves, or the strength of Men, or the strange, untouchable nature of Matthew Mercer, back in the Old Forest t the edge of the Shire, who would be First and Last? Or to take it, to use it, to overthrow the Enemy and win peace at last for Middle Earth? No, no--it must be destroyed, that is known. But how? And, moreover, who? Who could bear such a perilous quest, unspeakable temptation and greater peril, to the Fires of Mount Doom itself?

“I’ll do it.”

Pike’s voice rings clear, through silence or hubbub. She does not stand tall but she does stand forth, with her head high and her eyes alight. Her shaking hands curled into steady fists.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way.”

[and now, for dramatic effect, I think I will follow the films]

“I have some knowledge of it,” says Gilmore, and comes to stand beside her, a tall and steady presence. “I will help you bear this burden, Pike Trickfoot, as long as I may.”

“And I.” Minxie - or Keyleth, perhaps, we ought call her - kneels to hobbit height. “Broken or not, my sword is yours.”

“And my axe!” Kima of the Iron Hills, the Lowbearer’s ward, jumps to her feet. She has been fidgeting since the council convened.

Allura shoots the dwarf a skeptical look, and steps forth as well. “Whatever aid the Kingdom of Mirkwood can give, or even just I myself, is yours, little one.”

“I think that’s our line, darling.”

Syldor scowls as Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan step from the shadows by the door. His children by a Silvan elf, now deceased, they are estranged, and had not been invited to this meeting. They came anyway, and now take matching places at Pike’s back.

“We’ve got you, Pickle,” says Vax, with a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him.

“And me!”

Scanlan’s appearance from hiding is much less graceful. He falls out of a tree. But he picks himself up and scrambles to stand by Pike. “No way is Pike going to go destroy all evil without me.”

Syldor casts his eyes to the heavens, as if seeking salvation. Maryanne snickers for just a moment as she stands, before her sobriety returns. “If this is truly the will of the Council…” she says slowly, and puts a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Then Gondor will see it done.”

“Fine,” Syldor says with perhaps more force than necessary. But he, too, sobers as he surveys the group assembled before him. “The Enemy fields Nine Riders - so we shall send forth Nine Walkers. The Fellowship-”

“Actually,” Scanlan interrupts. “Mr. Elf Sir Guy. Sorry, but we’re ten.”

“What? No, you are-”

Scanlan Shorthalf, who knows his way around a story, crosses his arms and stares down Syldor Peredhil, son of Eärendil, of the line of Beren and Luthien. He says, confidently: “There’s no way Grog is gonna want to miss this.”

*A/N: This is the character swap-in I’m least comfortable with, because tbh Elrond deserves better, but I am assuaged by how much canon!Syldor would hate this title.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

Elladan came into Elrohir's room unannounced and flopped down on his twin's bed. He stared at him for a moment before offering the piece of paper he had within his hand.

"I need you to double check my math for me. I was trying to work out what percent of each bloodline we have, since we are not strictly speaking Half Elves." He grinned at Elrohir. "We are half elf by Naneth, but then Ada is over half an elf himself. So, if I have done the math right... We are 1/32 Maia and perhaps 1/5 human. All the rest is Elven kind."

@gilathae

@gilathae ::

a tilt of his head was the only reaction Elrohir gave at first, not alarmed as he'd known the other was coming. he looked over at Elladan, one hand stopping a pile of letters from falling and the other taking the offered piece of paper.

"Hello to you too, Dan. Of course I can- although you'd get better sense from Erestor or Arwen." his tone was dry but the returning grin and fond eyeroll lessened the snark. another look at the paper had Elrohir falling quiet as he worked it out, focusing a moment. "That would sound about right."

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: @gezelligheiid :: Elen Muse: Elrohir Prompt: Wasted

there was a flicker of visible relief upon crossing into the Trollshaws. it was a sign that home wasn't far away now, nor were their beds and for some, their families. despite the lateness of the evening, the Dúnedain didn't stop to make camp. not when Tornhad was just a few miles away. however, not all of the group were heading there.

after parting ways with the Rangers, it took another few minutes before the familiar sight of the Bruinen Ford came into view. Elrohir gave a tired smile to the guards as his grey mare put on a sudden burst of speed, only slowing once they reached the stables. practiced hands made quick work of caring for his companion and soon, the horse was happily settled in.

it took him just a moment to drop off his travelling gear in his room and then went to find his father. a activity that normally resulted in the Lord being found working in either their office or the Healing Halls. bemusement crossed the young elf's features when there wasn't any sign in either location; which was unusual.

Elrohir opted to go past his father's rooms on the way to his own, passing some shocked looking elves on route. he was planning to knock but the rather strong scent of alcohol made him decide otherwise. slipping inside soon revealed the reason: Elen was wasted. drinking wasn't something that he tended to see them do; even rarer, did they drink themselves into this kind of state. but when it happened, it was often for a reason.

"Ada?"

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

For: Arwen :: @amarthfaeg Muse: Hal Prompt: Summer, fun & friendship Liked for a Starter call | Rangers

"Ye-no. I don't do parties, you should know that by now, Elrohir."

"I haven't said anything yet!"

"Keyword there: Yet. That means you were going to ask and my answer remains the same. No thank-you." Hal didn't even bother to look up, much to the amusement of the other visiting Rangers. It didn't matter who or what the party was for; she had zero interest in taking part.

The youngest of Lord Elrond’s twins narrowed silver eyes and muttered something in Sindarin about stubborn assed rangers. But he didn't try arguing and left quietly. Too quietly for him.

"He's planning something. Normally he tries to change your mind."

The gender-fluid Ranger pulled her attention away from the paperwork she was doing, only to give Prestadir a smirk. "I'm aware and it won't work either way." That gained snorts and chuckles from the other Dúnedain, before they disappeared to change.

Hal returned her focus to the work she was finishing, ignoring anyone who came to the door of the guest room she was staying in. Although her instincts were on alert mode, in case Elrohir had gone to find someone who could persuade her to attend the party. To which, they would get the same response. No matter who it was. At least, that was her intention.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Elen | @gezelligheiid

"Ada? You have some visitors- well two are. The other's more of a long lost family member, who's just returned home."

Elladan slipped into the garden, followed by Arwen. the latter of whom was trying and failing to stop herself from literally bouncing with excitement and happiness.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Elrond :: @malkuvoitenoldoran Verse: Empath AU

"Strange looking garden."

despite of the reason why Elrohir was hiding in the East Porch, his lips quirked into a half smile. the sharp yet teasing comment allowing the sudden knot of tension to fade away. sometimes it was easier to be around the Rangers of North, than his own kin. especially during the years following his mother's departure to Valinor.

although... this particular Dúnedan was supposed to be resting in the Healing Hall. not tracking down wayward elf twins. he put the completed floral arrangements into a neat bundle, before turning to face the limping man. "Should you be walking yet, Himeinior?"

"Possibly not. Should you be hiding in your own home, Elrohir?" the Ranger shot back, ignoring the raised eyebrow as he dropped gingerly into the vacated seat. a snort escaped at the unreadable expression on his friend's face, since they both knew who he was avoiding. The teasing soon faded as Himeinior studied him quietly, not expecting an answer.

"No. But I have no interest in dealing with visiting elf maidens, who won't leave me alone. Especially with it being the Midsummer festival. Ada's dealing with enough at the moment as it is, so I'll manage." silver eyes caught the sharp look and switched his gaze to the floral arrangements.

hlrohir disappeared through the Porch doors to drop them off with Lindir, before returning and side eyeing the hurting Ranger. Be didn't need spoken words to know that Himeinior was asking for help; being a Empath meant that he could feel how much pain the other was in. "Let's get you back to the Hall."

thankfully they were already in the Last Homely House, so it didn't take long to reach the Healing Halls. se carefully deposited the man on a bed and went to find his father.

"Ada?"

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

Hiding in the gardens of Imladris had once been nothing but childish fun. And yet it was a game that some of the Elves had never been able to win. He shifted his gaze to the rising moon, hidden in the shadow of a statue away from any well used path.

Aragorn had been feeling rather disconnected from his surroundings all day. Something he knew both the twins and Arwen had noticed, which was why he'd been evading them.

The result of which, ended with barely anyone knowing precisely where he was in the peaceful valley.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

“You waited how long?” / have an elrond, elrohir.

for a very brief moment, Elrohir considered not responding. but he knew that his silence would only worry his father further, something that he didn't want. "A day longer then I should have. I.. couldn't do the Pass..." he shifted to sitting up on his bed, pulling his knees to his chest and words quiet.

@calcmities

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

[ nightmare ] from the soulmates prompts.

(you knew this would be coming didn't you? <3 choose the setting, universe, etc.)

  Hal wasn't known for her ability to sleep. Only when she felt completely safe, did rest finally come. But it wasn't always peaceful and most of the time, she woke unrested. Finding her soulmate was something that few thought she would do. Not that it came as a surprise, given the nature of her nightmares.

  Falling asleep in Rivendell had not been planned but the Dwarves were there, so the young Ranger felt safe. Yet her dreams weren't peaceful this time. Dark grey eyes blinked as she found herself standing within Bree. Watching a much younger 9 year old peer around the legs of men dressed in the neutral colours of the Dúnedain.

"I'm not someone you'd want as a soulmate..."

@eskelwolf

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

❝  sometimes i get these phantom pains i guess you could say.  little aches and i find them oddly comforting.  because my soul still hurts even if my body is healed.  ❞ (Arathorn)

   Arathorn was curled against Beleg’s side, one arm wrapped around that of his sleeping son. He listened quietly, before shifting his gaze to focus upon his partner.    “Also means you’re still alive. Something I’m glad about.”

@thegreatstrongbow

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

Few realised that the newly arrived Thorin's Company and the young Ranger, who'd appeared in the Hidden Valley later, were part of the same group. That wasn't originally the intention but Hal had been heading to Dale anyway, to drop some requested medical supplies off.

Both Gandalf and Bilbo were grateful to have her there, to offset the stubbornness of the Dwarves. And the Ri brothers, after recognising the family bead in her hair, had pulled her into their huddle.

One dark grey eye opened slightly as a shadow covered the light momentarily, before it settled near her. Ori, the youngest of the Ri brothers. She smiled faintly and closed her gaze again, neither stirring until they were found again later on.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Elen | @gezelligheiid

Muse: Taenil

it took a lot to wrangle a group of rangers into one specific location. not because they were difficult to manage but due to how spread out their locations were. once the call was sent out, the Northern Dúnedain scrambled as fast as they could. with the central location being Rivendell.

icy blue eyes watched as the last of his adopted kin trickled into the courtyard from above. before the silent young elf slipped back inside and went to find the Master of the Valley

"Lord Elrond...?"