#elrond's little one

[hoffmans-hoffman]

Elrond's little one

1 of ?

Alt title: Boromir is trying his best to babysit

Alt title: Boromir is big brother and he's trying not to cry

Elrond ft M!Reader as his son

Description: Elrond goes Papa mode on Boromir, who should definitely know better

Tw: None

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"Well aren't you a little one, the ears say Elf but the height says Hobbit" Boromir teases You as he ruffles Your hair with a grin. You knew Boromir, his visits were anything but consistent. Lindir would have to remind You to bow to the Prince of Gondor "Where's your father?" He lowers himself to Your tiny stature, now eye level with the Prince of Gondor You giggled "Where is he (Y/n)?" Boromir asks again "I'll never tell you" "Ahhh I see, well okay then" he lowers his head and starts to fake cry "No, No, Boromir don't do that!" You whine pushing his head up but his hair covers his face "Don't cry, don't cry" You say quickly before hugging his arm tightly "Thanks for the hug" Boromir picks You up and You crawl Your way to his shoulders "Will I be this tall one day?" "Taller than me? Bah" Boromir was making sure the coast was clear before continuing to walk out of Rivendell with You comfortably on his shoulders.

"So...do you have a nice Princess back in Gondor?" You ask tugging on the left side of Boromir's hair making him turn "Ah haha..." "Or does your stinky guard follow you too much" That one sentence made Boromir go silent quickly "Oooo! You like him!" You snicker feeling Boromir shift "So are you going to grow your hair as long as your Father's?" He changed the subject "Yes! Because I'm going to be wise just like him or even more wise!" You grin and then heard an all too familiar sentence "What are you two doing?" It was your father at this moment You were practically eye level with him and that scared, Your father had never yelled at You but You were not ready to break that streak "LordElrond" Boromir blurt out, his sentence blended as he put You down and as if Boromir had you against Your will, You bolted to Elrond's side wrapping your arms around his arm as You did a small smile appeared for a few seconds but once he looked back at Boromir it was gone...

"You know better than to take him out here without guards" Elrond's voice was firm but calm "I know but, I just" Boromir couldn't seem to make a full sentence "I tell you every time you visit, do not take (Y/n) past the gates he isn't old enough yet and you still do not listen" Elrond put his free hand in his hip "Boromir, I trusted you with something very dear to me and once again...you failed...again" it hurt Your father to say these words to Boromir as words are so powerful they can become wounds "I'm sorry Lord Elrond" Boromir lowers his head "Wayland and I will leave next morning" he murmurs sniffling a little "No!" You tugged at Your father's arm "That's not fair! He didn't do anything wrong! He's my brother!" Your words made Elrond look You dead in the eyes and kneel to Your height "(Y/n)...I know it's difficult but if he can't follow the rules I lay out he has to go home" his tone was softer with You but still firm "He'll come to visit once again you will see him again, right" Elrond's head snapped to Boromir, who looked up quick and nodded even quicker "See" "But...I...but" "There's no buts (Y/n)" Elrond looks back at You "He'll be back before you know it" "Promise" "(Y/n)..." "Lindir says a promise isn't a promise unless you say it out loud" You whisper looking down "I promise that Boromir, Son of Denethor can come back and with supervision watch over you while I have my meetings" Elrond smiles "Now go back inside" he stood up and You ran back in as Boromir now stood next to Elrond

"No one got hurt" "That's not the point" Elrond normally man of little violence in his old age smacked the back of Boromir's head "Ow, What was that for?" "You'll understand when you have a child"

[whosthatsilmcharacter]

(All art used with EXPRESS permission from the artist)

[raointean]

Okay, I'm thinking of the descendants of Finwë in RoP and I need to share.

Of the 29 descendants of Finwë (that have been born at that point), there are only four left alive in Middle Earth. One of them, Celebrimbor, has purposefully sundered himself from all his kin, trying to put distance between him and the crimes of his family. Another, Galadriel, has become so hellbent on revenge that she can hardly spare a moment to spend with her family before rushing back to the hunt.

The two youngest, the little ones, Gil-Galad and Elrond, are physically together, but there is a strict boundary of authority that sunders them as well. Gil-Galad is king. He must maintain a sense of regality and aloofness to maintain his position, command his cousins, and leash his great-aunt. Elrond is the only son of many dispossessed houses and, in being part of everything, belongs nowhere. He is still young and awkward, having yet to come into his own.

As royals, they are not particularly close, whether that be due to necessity or if that was just the way things shook out. Galadriel seems to be on the best terms with most of them: she is a friend to Elrond and seems friendly with Celebrimbor, although her relationship with her nephew is a little... strained. Gil-Galad knows all of them well, but almost only as working relationships, detached and impersonal. Elrond has a dear friend in Galadriel, but it seems that he had never even MET Celebrimbor before season 1, and his relationship with Gil-Galad is strictly professional.

They are no better when pressure is applied. They take sides and block out all evidence that does not support their positions. Elrond flees. Galadriel bulldozes ahead. Celebrimbor isolates himself. And Gil-Galad- Gil-Galad is doing his best to be the rock his kingdom- and his family- needs.

And yet, despite their distance and dysfunction and individual flaws, they come together when one of their own is threatened.

[runawaymun]

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

thanks, @eowyn7023 also tagging: @polutrope because you sent me an ask about this a while ago and I just haven't had the spoons to respond until now, sorry! <3

Elrond in Valinor + Second Flight of the Noldor

so this stems from three possibly spicy Opinions I have about LOTR: 1) The Valar kind of suck, actually, and it was wrong of them to bring Elves to Valinor in the first place and it went directly against Eru's plan. 2) Valinor is kind of liminal and bad for you if you were born in Middle Earth 3) Elrond sailing (and staying) in Valinor is makes very little sense for him as a character, and is more about Jirt's wish fulfillment than it is good writing.

Obviously, unfortunately, due to the narrative, Elrond must sail at the end of LOTR. He needs to recuperate from the absolute havoc Vilya wreaked on his system, and he also needs to reunite with Cel and get some closure about a few things, like Celebrimbor's death, Gil-Galad's death, and his relationship with Elwing.

So Elrond sails, as he does. He reunites with Celebrian. He spends some time meeting his various family members and spends quite a lot of time with Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor. He has exactly one (1) talk with Elwing to ask her some questions and explain what became of Elros, but in my head he is not really interested in pursuing much of a relationship with her. Elwing respects that.

He and Celebrian work on healing their relationship and re-establishing intimacy.

Elrond slowly recovers from the damage Vilya did to him.

He might need to spend some time in Lorien actually. He is very good friends with Este and Nienna.

After a while though, things just don't feel right. Valinor feels very static and strange to him, and he doesn't really feel like he Fits. And that hurts because everyone is so glad to have him there and they expect that he's just as glad to be here as they are.

Also he really misses his kids, and wonders about his grandkids, and the Dunedain.

Eventually he starts connecting with more and more people who feel like they don't Fit. Mostly Noldor and the few Sindar that sailed. Many of them are still dealing with PTSD from Middle Earth and Beleriand, or with scars that refuse to heal. Many of them are just Restless. Most Vanyar do not understand this, and it's hard to talk about.

He and Cel begin work on a second Rivendell, and this keeps them both busy for a short time. He still doesn't feel Right though.

Eventually he starts experiencing like a reverse sea-longing and it gets more, and more, and more painful.

Finally, he talks it over with Celebrian. And they petition the Valar, who are not very happy to be petitioned. And then Elrond starts preparing to sail East.

Listen listen listen. Everything that Elrond has ever built, worked for, or loved is back in Middle Earth. It makes zero sense for him to be happy in Valinor. He aligns overwhelmingly with the Sindar and with the Dunedain in the books, and the Dunedain also consider him as one of them. Rivendell is there (he left it in the care of the Dunedain). Arwen and Aragorn are there. Gondor, and what is left of Elros are there. His grandchildren are there. Elladan and Elrohir are still there. The people left for him in Valinor are all people he has already mourned and found closure with.

He's not really made for Valinor anyway. He's made to watch over Middle Earth, to keep its lore and secrets, and to caretake Elros' line. He made a vow, once, and sure Aragorn and his descendants are doing just fine but he still feels half-whole without them.

And he's not the only person who doesn't feel Right in Valinor, who miss the mold and the rot and the fungi and the sheer diversity of life, and the Men!!! The humans!!! The normalcy of pain and suffering and scars and disabilities!

And so Elrond sails with Celebrian, and many of the Noldor say 'fuck it' and they go with him. They're tired and restless and have misgivings about the Valar anyway. A remnant returns to Middle Earth, and this time they go for love.

Elrond retakes his seat in Rivendell and the Dunedain rejoice that the eldest of their race, their most beloved uncle has come home. Celebrian reunites with Arwen, and meets a long line of adopted children that she never got to see, and meets Aragorn and her grandchildren.

They live through the ages, quietly doing what they have always done: living as watchers and caretakers, carefully preserving memories and lore and history.

Rivendell becomes a place that is both mythologized and startlingly real, where it is rumored that anyone who needs it will find help and sanctuary.

Many of the Noldor live in Rivendell, but some set up their own small kingdoms or simply live alongside the men and dwarves. They're finally there to guide and watch over the Secondborn, just as was intended in the Theme.

Eventually, of course, Elrond must grieve Arwen and Aragorn, but he's there for his grandchildren, and his great grandchildren, and his great grandchildren, and all of his family thereafter -- and in Arwen and Aragorn and their line, it almost feels like he is reunited with Elros again.

Elrond is there to help.

[winds-of-zephyr416]

BOOPABLE ELVES (and Ainur) ((and Edain))

Boopable: 

Fingon (will blush)

Celebrimbor (will boop you back. This will lead into a chain reaction of back-and-forth boops if not kept in check).

Maedhros (but only by Fingon)

Maeglin (stares into your soul)

Glorfindel (thanks you?)

Beor the Old (only boopable by Finrod)

Elrond (unfazed, looks at you like this is normal).

Not Boopable:

Eönwë (too tall 😔)

Manwë (too tall + your hand phases through his face. Would be boopable otherwise)

Finrod (does the booping)

Melian (Thingol tried, once. didn’t go well).

Dangerous Boops:

Fëanor (boopable, immediately stabs you)

Sauron (boopable, will set you on fire)

Morgoth (not boopable, your hand dissolves the moment you touch his face. (((Why would you even want to boop the Dark Lord in the first place?? That’s Sauron’s job, not yours))).

[youareunbearable]

I like to think that Himring has some elf magic on it, or at least prime Noldor construction that allows it to keep standing

Imagine if it did keep standing well into the third age? That you could look across the sea and see the little island with that strange elven fortress on it? Many Men, Elves, and Dwarves alike have sailed to its shores and tried to open its gates, but just like the Doors of Durin, they're sealed shut. Nothing anyone does can open them, and there is no way in either. The walls are unscalable, no grapples will ever find anything to catch onto, and ladders will sway and fall under the strong sea winds. Tunneling under the walls gets one no where either, for if they dig deep they either keep meeting rock, or find water.

This is Himring, the fortress built with the desire to withstand anything a Vala could throw at it, outlast any siege. It was constructed with powerful intent, to be the strong hold and last safety net an eldest brother could use to protect his siblings. Imagine the power a frantic, paranoid, still healing from his torture Maedhros would pour into a place with the mindset of Safety?? Of Protection?? Maedhros would have rituals where every dawn he would walk upon its battlements and talk to himself, talk to Himring, of nothing important, nothing that could be valuable to overhear, but nonetheless the intent of using it for safeguarding, of protection, and providing safety. A ritual of that for over a couple hundred years? Maedhros burns bright with the white flame of life and hes pouring all of that into his fortress. There is a reason Himring is the only thing to survive of Beleriand, it has it's Lord's Will within their foundations.

As far as Himring is concerned, it's still waiting for its Lord to return. It survived the devastation of the War of Wrath that turned the mountains around it to rubble. Its holding against this siege of water surrounding its gates. It will keep holding until its Lord returns, whenever that may be.

[stellavesperis]

“Insufferable.” Well I’m glad Círdan agrees about Daeron.

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on what Eldritch peredhel entail

-@@outofangband

Sorry this took so long @outofangband and thank you for asking this I am! Delighted! And am preemptively putting a read more down because I cannot shut up about they <3

alright I'm just gonna put stuff and headcanons down as they occur to me so expect low-moderate levels of coherency

shapeshifting is an obvious one (gets weaker down the generations) but because my brain is Like This I have caveats!

thanks to my whole peredhil things=gender allegory that my brain spit out without my permission I've long struggled against my inherent feeling that while they can shapeshift they don't like it

but because I'm now aware of my brain's reasoning I can say it's because of ✨fantasy dysphoria✨

that's oversimplifying, obviously, but peredhil already have so much issues with working through who and what they are and compromising between body and mind and spirit that actively choosing to change into/present as something/someone who They Are Not is. Not usually their cup of tea.

As a whole they tend to have specific forms that they prefer as being closer to themselves, and distinct enough that it doesn't feel like they're faking something they're not

(changing to look like a different person, or a edited version of themself is Very Very not fun unless either explicitly for disguise or shenanigans)

(the exception to this is that Luthien can make herself look almost perfectly human without any real issue. she doesn't do it often but especially as she ages she likes to catch glimpses of her reflection and get both excited and sappy. this is in contrast to making herself look almost perfectly like an elf which makes her feel like her skin is on fire.)

(Also I'm pretty sure all of them can flip their agab presentation while only feeling varying degrees of off, and even then it's a different feeling than the shapeshifting dysphoria. Dior and Elwing are the two who I think mind it the most)

They all have the (agonizing to write) trait of feeling very distinct relationships to their species in their body vs soul/mind vs spirit/fea and they all feel it very differently! This isn't exclusive to Luthien's line but the maia blood does make it worse.

Oh! This is a new headcanon of mine actually but!

They all have faces that are very very hard to capture in image. They are the bane of portrait artists (and, to a degree, sculptors) everywhere because the art never looks accurate to life

It's not blatantly off it's just. missing something? Or something was added? maybe it's a little too wide, or narrow, or long, or short, in one place or another

It's not unrecognizable but if you've ever seen the subject in real life you can just tell

It's especially bad with Luthien (and Daeron) and Dior (to a lesser extent) because everyone literally sees them differently, as in their features will be slightly different depending on what each person finds attractive/aesthetically appealing and beautiful

(not a lot, again, it's not unrecognizable, but there has never and will never be any accurate depiction of Luthien as she was as a person)

(as a concept, though, as the most beautiful creature to have ever existed in Arda, a little of her image exists in every portrait lovingly made of a beloved spouse, every child's drawing of their family, in biological sketches of songbirds and field mice, in a sculpture of a stranger's face. Daeron remembers his sister perfectly, but he collects these regardless)

(Arwen, Luthien come again, isn't described as such by her grandparents. Galadriel and Celeborn both knew Luthien, and while Arwen and her father both look as closely to her as genetically possible, to those who actually know them both it's nothing more than uncanny family resemblance. Luthien was to most a concept personified, Arwen is a person with concepts imposed on her.)

The list of people who have seen Luthien how she actually, physically, defaultly is, essentially consists of Melian, Daeron, Beren, and Dior

Beren doesn't see her as she is right away because he doesn't know her right away, but they learn about each other and she shows herself and he sees her and by the time she rescues him from Tol-im-Gaurhoth there are no echoes on her face

(He's always a little bit haunted that he nearly died without realizing he'd never quite seen the truth of her before)

Neither Thingol or Beren can quite see their own features on their children's faces. They clearly take after their mothers, after all!

(This leads to much affectionate eye-rolling on Melian and Luthien's part)

Hair stuff!

It's alive! kinda! it's definitely not normal hair!

It moves a lot on its own. Sometimes like a breeze is blowing where there isn't one. Sometimes more like tentacles. It depends on its mood.

They've got some very pretty traditional cosmic horror vibes swirling around on their heads. It's very sparkly and colorful but in a Forbidden Shrimp Colors that your brain is unable to comprehend way so it reads as iridescent black mostly, or holographic white, where applicable

Luthien's hair actually is a glimpse into space, Daeron's is a glance at a star

(Luthien's magic hair cloak survives, I think, into the 4th age and beyond, though if anyone/anything has found it they certainly don't know the origins of the beautifully intricate living star map. It has seen the reign of countless north stars, yet the lines always point to the same coordinates- where the ancient, sunken, ruined remains of what once was Tol-im-Gaurhoth lay)

Speed round!

Fangs and talons and horns oh my! Are they tooth and keratin and bone, or are they petrified wood and gem and stone? Yes!

They all smell a little like ozone and a lot like petrichor, flowers, and Green. If you've smelled green you know what I'm talking about. Also, unfortunately, like bird. Birds don't smell great, especially wet bird.

Weird Foresight Powers++

(Most of them don't have actual foresight, but all of them are more in-tune with the Song than is natural for an incarnate)

Their eyes glow, most notably in the dark, unless the irises turn black as they sometimes do. They are also all unnaturally bright versions of the less-spooky parent's- Dior's are gold, Elwing's are blue-green like a tropical sea (Elured and Elurin split the color between them- ultramarine and emerald), Elrond and Elros have pale star-gold, Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen all have silver.

(Daeron and Luthien being the exception again, because I decided they have Melian's eyes before I decided this, and I don't know what color eyes Thingol has. Watsonianly: Melian's spooky genes overwrite a lot. Luthien's genotype is probably much closer to his than her magically overwritten phenotype)

Their sclerae turn black and their pupils white, on occasion, usually when using powers

They don't bleed right. It's a little too red for an elf, a little too light for a human, and it shines strange as it beads like quicksilver on the skin

They have very shiny, cool skin. Luthien looked like her's was silver plate under a stretched stocking, the rest toned it down from there but it's still noticeable.

The Song is. Attached to them. They are all very much Main Characters. Their lives have a clear story arc with symbolism and narrative parallels. They are all subconsciously aware that their lives are a fairytale, whether tragic or no, and yes this has many Implications and affects. They are not the only ones like this, but they are the only ones who, to some level, know they are in a story.

This is the fundamental separation between them and everyone else.

The difference in how they perceive themselves between heart soul and spirit is very difficult to explain and understand, but not impossible to someone who knows them and is willing to put in the work.

The life-long knowledge that they are Important to the Song and their every choice and event they experience and their mere existence serves a greater purpose in a way that most other people simply do not- that's very, very isolating.

No one else can understand how they see the world. Very very few people are willing to try, and even fewer in a way that's not frustrating. There is a reason most of them find only one person to latch on to outside of their family, and a reason they hold on through hell and high water.

(This is about being neurodivergent)

[leucisticpuffin]

In which Idril and Tuor take their grandsons on an adventure.

[hoffmans-hoffman]

Imagine Delw showing up at Your birthday party unwanted but You put up enough of a fit that Elrond let's Delw stay longer then anyone else would like him too

[lordgrimwing]

Feanor’s racist #01

They were late to the weekly dinner, again. Truly late this time. Partly because Maedhros couldn’t find the hairpins he wanted to use, and partly because Elros spilled a cup of water all down his front and Maglor insisted he had to change into a fresh robe. He spilt the water on accident but took advantage of being sent back up to his room to change as slowly as possible and delay them even more. He didn’t leave the room until he heard Maedhros’ heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

While the twins buckled themselves into the back seat of the car, Maglor leaned across to his brother and whispered, “I’m worried about that text Caranthir sent.”

“We can’t do anything about it now.” Maedhros kept an eye on the progress in the rearview mirror and shifted the vehicle into drive as soon as everyone was buckled. 

“I don’t—” 

“Not now,” He hissed back. He didn’t want to talk about it where little ears would easily overhear. Caranthir took a certain satisfaction in planting rumors among his brothers and seeing what happened. That text message was probably nothing more than another attempt to liven up the weekly family dinner with easy entertainment. More likely than not, as long as they didn’t respond, tonight would be no different from every other week. 

Maglor fell silent but drummed his fingers on the dashboard. Maedhors wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop fidgeting, but the boys tended to get nervous when he did stuff like that and he didn’t want to make them any more worked up than they already were. They just all needed to stay calm and the evening would pass without a problem.

When they finally arrived, Elrond started complaining that his socks didn’t feel right and slipped off his shoes so he could try to fix them.  

“You were okay the whole way over here,” Maglor scolded, grabbing the shoes and putting them back on his feet. He pulled him out of the car. “You’ll be fine.”

The eight-year-old looked down and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, but brightened a little when the black-haired elf offered him his hand to hold as they walked to the door. Elros came behind them, Maedhros hurrying him along, hoping to get them into the house before the meal officially started.

Inside, quiet voices filtered out from the dining room down the hall, accompanied by the tink of silverware against china. Maedhros took the lead as they walked down the hall. Maglor let go of Elrond’s hand, leaving him next to his brother as he fell back to walk beside Elros and remind him to take his hands out of the pockets in his robe and straighten his shoulders (he didn’t add that slouching and hiding his hands made him look like he was looking for trouble as he had with his little brothers over the last two decades).

The room went silent when they entered.

Dinner started some time before and everyone had food on their plates. Curufin had a glass halfway to his lips and slowly set it down as his older brothers came through the doorway. Fëanor rose from his chair at the head of the table. His mouth was set in a tight frown, his thin eyebrows drawn into a hard line over keen eyes.

Maedhros’ shoulders tense. He knew his father would be irritated by their tardiness, but the tension in the room, and the poorly concealed excitement on Celegorm’s face, made it clear that this was something bigger. Keeping his expression mild, he said, “My apologies for our late arrival, Atar.”

He pointed Elrond toward his seat, murmuring, “Go sit down.” 

The child looked up at him for a moment, biting the inside of his bottom lip, a nervous habit. 

“No, you do not have permission to sit at my table.” Fëanor snapped when Elrond reached for his chair. Maglor and Elros froze behind them. “Come here.”

He grabbed Elrond’s shoulder and pulled him closer before he could move. His other hand came up and clamped around the boy’s chin so he could tilt his face up and turn his head this way and that to inspect his features. The two rings he wore pressed uncomfortably against Elrond’s jaw.

“Father, really, this isn’t—” Maglor began, one hand on Elros’ shoulder to keep him by his side; the child’s hands clenched into fists when the old elf grabbed his brother. He cut himself off when angry eyes glared at him.

Tears welled up in the eight-year-old’s eyes as the elf tugged the fingers of his other hand through his hair, breaking several of the thin, dark brown strands. He glowered down at the child and released him, by no means satisfied with the inspection. He pushed him away, and Elrond stumbled against Maedhros, who’d watched the whole thing in stony silence.  

“You brought orcs into my family,” Fëanor sneered in disgust. 

“They are not orcs,” Maglor said hotly. 

His father spoke over him as if he said nothing. “You’ve known about their bastard lineage from the beginning yet you insisted on keeping them, refused to send them back to the state as I counseled. And when you discovered this still darker part of them, you actively sought to conceal it!” 

Amrod, or maybe Amras, still seated at the dining table, his meal mostly abandoned in favor of watching the spectacle, snickered.

“Be silent!” Fëanor raged, turning on the red-haired twins. His ire spread to everyone in the room. “Do you think it is amusing to sit next to one of those creatures, a descendant of the filth your foreparents waged war against? It is no game to let them sully one of the last true Noldor houses.”

The three other elves still seated at the table shot the young pair annoyed looks. Their father’s tirades were less entertaining when directed at them. 

Maedhros wrapped an arm around Elrond’s trembling shoulders. “Atar,” He said, calm and steady. He’d had an iron control of his emotions since childhood. “Elrond and Elros are children. They cannot help what their parents and forebearers did. I cannot change their genetics anymore than you can change Celegorm’s.”

Fëanor’s mouth tightened further. Celegorm cocked his head, waiting to see what kind of game his elder brother was trying to play. Reminding their father of his third son’s less-than-honest begetting was always dangerous. 

“But,” Maedhros continued, moving his hand to rest lightly on Elrond’s head, smoothing the tousled locks. He tucked the loose, nearly shoulder-length hair behind the boy’s ear again, exposing the slightly tapered point that clearly marked him as partly elven. “You proved through him that the rearing is far more important than the making. Celegorm is as much Noldor as any of us.”

The older elf said nothing for a minute, his lips twitching around words. That certainly wasn’t a statement he wanted to disagree with. He took great pride in his Noldor family. Finally, he said, “We shall have to see if you possess the strength of character to guide them in the light, Maedhros.” 

He paused, weighing if he should say more while anger still surged behind his chest. “Of all my sons, you are most prepared.”

Maedhros lowered his head in deference to his father. Maglor quickly followed his lead. 

From the table, Curufin glowered.

“I will be watching,” Fëanor cautioned, returning to his seat at the head of the table. With a sweeping gesture of his arm, he welcomed his eldest sons and adopted grandsons to the meal.

[runawaymun]

Finally finished this little illustration, and just in time for @tolkiengenweek! So here is Elrond teaching Thalionel to ride the sassy little pony he picked out, from Beneath a Boundless Sky, chapter 12.

This fulfills day one and day two, for the prompts "family" and "animals".

Excerpt under the cut!

The pony was called Trastadweg. When Lord Elrond gave him a hand up into the saddle, Thalionel worked up the courage to ask him why he thought it was so funny.  Lord Elrond just patted Trastadweg’s neck and answered: “Because he’s been causing trouble since the day he was born. Difficult birth, this one. He was the wrong way around and I had to pull him out by his feet.”  “Oh.”  “But he is a good choice, don’t fret,” Lord Elrond was quick to reassure. “He has a strong will and he’s very clever, so I think the two of you will get along splendidly. Now, hold the reins, but keep them a little slack. Good. And grip his body between your knees as hard as you can. Good—“  They started in circles in the paddock, but even that was scary enough. Thalionel felt so high up off the ground, and Trastadweg wasn’t even as tall as a regular horse. It was different when he sat with Elladan on Ranor. Elladan always held onto him to make sure he wouldn’t fall off.  But, just like that night carving by the campfire, Thalionel was surprised to find that he wasn’t having a bad time. It was fun: going so fast, being high up, having the wind rush in his hair, feeling Trastadweg’s gait under him. Thalionel found himself smiling despite his best efforts, if only for how his heart raced, and how good it felt— the flutter in his stomach. Not the bad kind, but the kind he got during that summer when he and the other boys had found a good ledge to jump off of into a deep pool. The thrill of the drop. The way it turned your body warm and your eyesight sharp and clear. He and Hallr had laughed that day until their stomachs hurt.  Lord Elrond didn’t try to bait him into conversation. He only talked about Trastadweg and riding and reminded Thalionel to keep his back straight. And every time Thalionel felt like he was losing his balance, Lord Elrond would say something to Trastadweg in Sindarin and Trastadweg would slow down, and then there was a firm hand on his back to steady him, a gentle adjustment to his grip on the reins or his place in the saddle, but no reprimand. Lord Elrond never seemed to run out of patience – no matter how many times Thalionel needed help. 

[mamawasatesttube]

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

kon, of course, but everyone here knows that so maybe he doesn't quite count sfgkdh

let's go with kaladin stormblessed from the stormlight archive, mipha legendofzelda, and elrond peredhel! with an honorable mention to ash lynx bananafish and alphonse elric fullmetalalchemist.

i am simply a sucker for the battle healer archetype/characters who know how to kill you a hundred different ways, but would really rather not. characters who have faced the endless horrors but still choose to be kind and gentle and good where they can, or who fight the darkness not out of rage or pride but out of a desire to protect. characters who know what suffering is and want to make sure others don't have to. you know. the light at the end of the tunnel and choosing kindness and healing even though it would be so easy for them to cause harm instead. being the shield before the sword. all that.

alphabet ask game!

[thevalleyisjolly]

I am newly amused by that scene in FOTR where Gandalf is telling Saruman about how the One Ring was in the Shire for many years, “right under my very nose,” and Saruman responds “And yet you did not have the wit to see it.”  Because.  Saruman.  My guy.  You have sat in council with all three Elven Ring bearers multiple times across thousands of years.  You are literally talking to a bearer of a Ring of Power right now.  The only way Narya could be more right under your nose is if Gandalf decked you in the mouth.  Well done, o cunning one!  Truly a wizard of great insight and perception.

[lotr-bitches]

i am currently experiencing maglor and elrond feelings. please return in a day or two

in all seriousness, have this scene:

‘Do you have the key to the fortress?’

Elrond looked at him strangely. Maglor just sighed.

‘Do you have it?’

‘Atar, I don’t know what you want from me.’

Maglor sighed heavily. ‘The key. Do you have it?’

Elrond turned to rifle through his desk. Truthfully, he wasn’t really looking, but he would never tell Maglor that.

Maglor sank into the chair behind him, chest heaving. He sighed which slipped into a laugh. When it eventually found its way into a sob, Elrond turned to face him again.

‘It’s all I have left of him.’

‘It’s not all you have left.’ Elrond spared a cursory glance for his father’s tears.

‘I lost him. Mae is gone.’

‘You don’t think I didn’t lose him too?’ Elrond’s voice was quiet.

‘You don’t know how it feels.’

‘I am the only person who knows how it feels.’

Elrond sighed, trying to fill the silence. ‘The fortress is inaccessible,’ Elrond said.

Maglor snorted, an undignified sound, incongruous of him.

‘So it is.’

‘It is us, in the end.’ Elrond smiled at his father and went back to his desk.

‘At the end, it is me.’

Maglor turned West.

[elronds-pointy-ears]

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