#elu fanfiction

[surrealsunday]

10 Things I’ll Tattoo on You

10 Things I Hate About You AU

It’s a terrible idea from the start. Eliott knows that. But when presented with the possibility of a date with a cute boy for a generous sum of much-needed cash, could anyone blame him for taking resident-asshole-Charles-Munier up on the offer? Well, yes. Lucas Lallemant could. But there’s no need for him to find out about the arrangement. A date and it’s done. Easy enough. Or it would be... if Lucas wasn’t... Lucas. Head-strong, stubborn, cheeky, and everything Eliott didn’t know he needed. In conclusion: He’s fucked. 

CHAPTER 1

[elerrinacrownedwithstars]

Why doesn't Thingol just give the Silmaril to Fëanorians?

One thing I find curious about the discourse around the Silmarils and their ownership issues is how it seems to often simplify the Sindarin and especially Thingol's perspective. I mean, Thingol giving the Silmaril Beren and Lúthien stole from Morgoth's crown to the Fëanorians is framed as somehow easy and obvious option. But I don't think it really is?

It's not even about whether Thingol is right or wrong to act as he does, it's about why his actions are justified from his point of view (and why it is more believable than him being compliant to Noldor).

1. Noldor disrespected and antagonised Thingol from the start. They have given him little reason to be nice or helpful.

When the Noldor arrive in Beleriand, they immediately start to do their own thing, and disregard Thingol, the local sovereign who is regarded as the overlord or at least respected and revered by the Elves native to this region. But Noldor (and Fëanorians) do not attempt to gain his friendship and alliance, they don't establish diplomatic relationships, they bring no gifts (which would be expected in this kinda medieval based society) and neither do they ask for help as Exiles, they don't let Thingol know where they are going to settle down or ask whether it's convenient but grab lands whether the locals like it or not, they don't recognise his position even as a friendly gesture, they don't disclose the nature of their expedition, withhold important information, and most of all, they bring violent trouble to his backyard. This must seem deeply and outrageously insulting to Thingol, especially because these princes are children and grandchildren of Finwë, Thingol's close friend - and yet they treat him without an ounce of respect.

Thingol is no less proud or particular about his position than Fëanor or Fingolfin is. He probably has not had it challenged or ignored by anyone except Morgoth's servants. Also he may see it as indicative of general Noldor prejudice/disdain against Sindar.

Whether Noldor had justified reasons for the way they act upon landing in Middle-earth, you can't deny that they don't do even the bare minimum to win the locals over. Yeah, you could argue that bringing reinforcements at the time when Morgoth returns and becomes active in Middle-earth again is something, but this is still not a way to treat potential friends and allies.

2. The Kinslaying of Thingol's people and kin at Alqualondë and the burning of their ships.

Obvious, really. He may see himself as standing in for Olwë, and regards the Silmaril as weregild for slain relatives and friends - people he himself probably knew before Teleri were sundered. Also why would he respect Fëanorian property rights when from his point of view, Noldor don't give a damn about Teleri or their rights?

Thingol may also judge that the Kinslaying and burning of the ships disputes the Fëanorians' right to the Silmarils and their moral high ground to a degree where anyone brave and cunning enough to reclaim even one of them becomes a rightful owner. Obviously he is biased in Beren and Lúthien's behalf but it would be weird if he was not? After B&L's efforts and their suffering, and quite literally achieving the impossible, he may be of the opinion that they have more right to the Silmaril than Fëanorians who seem more invested in competing Morgoth for land than for the Silmarils. Thingol may share the same attitude as Dior has in one of the drafts: there are two more Silmarils in the same place where the one in his possession came from, so why don't the Fëanorians go get them first?

3. Celegorm and Curufin.

I mean, after the way Lúthien was abused and attacked by the two brothers, Thingol could be holding on to the Silmaril out of pure spite. His daughter never gets any apology for how she was treated, and Thingol has no reason to believe that C&C's actions - and the attempt to force Thingol into an alliance - were not sanctioned and approved by the rest of the brothers. These people have been consistently terrible at everyone Thingol loves and cares about, so why should he help them in any way?

4. The Silmarils mess with your brain.

It's clear that the Silmarils have an unwholesome effect on almost everyone who possess them. Time and again Tolkien describes how characters fall prey to this greedy, possessive lust for the Silmarils. I mean, Fëanor and his sons are ready to spill blood again and again just to get them back. There is something about the jewels that, if you desire them for their own sake, kind of enslaves you to them. Thingol won't give up the Silmaril to Fëanorians because he can't.

5. The Doom of the Noldor compels him.

It's explicitly stated in the Doom that while the Oath will drive the Fëanorians, it will never yield its objective, and the Silmarils will elude them. As soon as Thingol names a Silmaril as a bride price for Lúthien, he becomes involved in the Doom and what it dictates, limiting his control of the situation. Because of the Doom (and the effect the Silmaril has on him), Thingol is not free to give it to the Fëanorians.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

the self is not so weightless

Elwing was not expecting the tears.

She had been prepared for a regal bearing and a dignified presence, for she had grown on tales of Doriath and its first king, and she remembered the respect and esteem with which those Iathrim who once lived under his protection spoke of him. A generous heart, Úrher had said. A flippant humor, Glamren had recalled. A boundless will. A loyal soul.

And perhaps she had anticipated his amiability. King Thingol was always very affectionate, her mother had told her, to his kin especially. You would not believe how he doted upon your brothers. He will love you.

Keep reading on ao3

[8aeddel-vriska]

Really happy with this part of a Signalis fic I'm writing (specifically about the origins of Falke's neural pattern).

[ladysternchen]

The Boat To Irmo's Realm, Or: The Story Of An Untired Elfling

There was a certain element of art in keeping a freshly bathed elfling on one’s lap to comb and braid their hair. It required nimble fingers and the use of all four limbs- and above all, a gripping story to tell. The first two, Elu was pleased to find, he mastered as well as he had ever done, despite usually having Melian’s help these days. The last not so much, at least not tonight. 

Tonight his thoughts were with his niece and nephew, and the new baby they were about to welcome into this world. Celebren had asked for both her mother-in-law and aunt to be with her and Galadhon, so Melian and Thônwen would surely be occupied for the night. Elmo, meanwhile, was appointed the task to look after Galathil, who was much too young to be left to his own devices while his mother was in labour. 

Elu sighed at the very thought, pity for his grand-nephew filling his heart. It was not at all usual for siblings to be born so shortly after one another, at least here in Eglador. Even back at Cuiviénen so small an age-gap had been uncommon, though by no means as rare as it was now. He and Olwë had not been the only siblings born so close together that they would grow up practically like twins. And compared to the few years that separated Olwë and himself, the age-gap between Galathil and his new brother or sister was almost reasonable. 

As it was, he had been so very small that even his memory -which was quite good in general- had become blurry, presenting him only with feelings and fleeting pictures rather than an accurate account of Olwë’s birth. The uncounted years since had not erased the feeling of terror from his mind, though, and he could easily recall it even now.

He could not quite remember whose lap it had been on which he had sat, whose arms had held him tight, comforting, yes, but still unable to lift the feeling of dread that had filled all his body, from his tousled hair down to his bare toes.

Most likely it had been his aunt, Círdan’s mother, who had looked after him while his own mother had birthed Olwë, but try as he might, he really could not recall it. He remembered having his gaze fixed on the earthy ground, though, on his tunic that barely covered his knees, and the chill that was creeping up his bare legs. And his braids. They had come loose, though not altogether undone, and he had hated that. Quite likely, he himself had pulled his hair in a desperate tantrum, though that he could truly not recall.

The other thing that he remembered of that scene was the feeling of his fingernails scratching his cheek as he suckled on his thumb. The memory of that drove the heat of shame up his neck even now, and he was very grateful that Lúthien sat on his lap with her back turned towards him, and would thus not notice his embarrassment. Really, it was lucky that there were not many within his realm who remembered his childhood-years, and more importantly, that all who did had the grace to not hold it against him. He had surely not struck a particularly kingly figure then. 

That had not been the worst of it, though. That had come after little Olwë had squawked himself into life, when their father had come to pick him up to carry him over to his mother and new brother, saying:

“Ai Elwë, how have you grown so tall in only so short a time? I swear you were only our little baby this morning, and now you are already such a big boy?”

He could recall every word even now, the tone of his father’s voice etched into his memory forever more, Oh, how that simple sentence had scared him, as if he had not already been terrified enough. But then his mother had held out her free arm to him and allowed him to bury his face against her hair, and that had finally broken all the dams within him, so that he had sat on her lap positively howling with mingled relief and despair.

“Oh no.” she had said softly, her talking ever so slightly shaking Elu who had his head still on her breast “He still is our baby. They both are our precious little boys.”

Only then, when he had at long last cried his fill and was sure once more that he still had his place within his parents’ arms, had he braved a look into the bundle of blankets that his mother held. 

And the bundle had looked back, bright blue eyes gazing out from a tuft of pure white hair. That had looked so very funny that Elu had giggled in spite of himself, and the ice of insecurity had been broken once and for all. 

Elu mentally shook himself, trying to again focus on braiding Lúthien’s hair rather than dwell in memories that stirred far too many well-buried emotions. He would also have to firmly forbid his thoughts to stray towards Galathil, for otherwise he would constantly have to remind himself that his grand-nephew was not himself after all, and that therefore their experiences of becoming big brothers would also be different. Once he deemed Lúthien’s hair to be braided enough for it not to tangle while it dried, Elu realised his daughter from his lap, chuckling as she jumped to her feet like a young deer that had been freed from restraints. 

“Don’t get too excited over your newly-won freedom, young lady. It is high time for bed, and you are shivering!”

Lúthien paused in the act of whirling around the clearing to grin back at him. A grin, Elu knew full well, that did not bode well. Nonetheless, she danced back to where he still sat, and allowed him to wrap her in her blanket. Elu loved the blanket, remembering how Melian had worked on it during her pregnancy, embroiling it with stars and flowers as they had whiled away the time until they would finally meet their child. It seemed to him like yesterday, when in truth Lúthien was already so independent. Still he could not help but press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. There simply were no words that would do the love he felt for his daughter justice. 

Lúthien giggled as his lips brushed her hair, and wriggled free of his arms again.

“That tickles!” she squeaked, rubbing her head indignantly.

“I am sorry, my dear. But come on, lie down, and I shall sing you to sleep if you like.”

Lúthien, of course, did nothing of that sort.

“I’m not tired. Look, Ada, I’m not even an elf but a great bird and I’m flying over the plains of Beleriand, see?”

She spread her arms wide, and with her blanket billowing behind her frolicked around the clearing as though the woollen fabric were indeed the wings on which she could soar through the air. Elu inwardly sighed. He had never expected her to go to sleep without a fight, and being covered in her blanket meant she was at least warm, so he might as well play along for now.

“Can you see all the way from the mountains to the sea, then, high up as you are? And all the hidden valleys and twisting streams?”

Lúthien paused, looking intrigued, the blanket flapping around her ankles now that she has stopped running. “There are hidden valleys in Beleriand?”

Ha! Elu though. Got you!

“Of course there are. Of some I know, but I am sure there are many more, many that no elven eye has ever glimpsed.”

“I must one day find them all!”

She crouched down beside him and wrapped her blanket around her so that she looked remarkably like the bird of prey she had just intended to portray.

“How do you know how Beleriand looks from above, though?”

Because I did look down on these lands, a long time ago, from the high passes of the Ered Luin. In fact, he had done so twice, never guessing then that he was looking upon his future realm. 

He did not tell Lúthien that, though. The risk of her wanting to hear the whole story of their journey and his time as an ambassador was far too great. “How do you know I cannot turn into a bird, little one? Or perhaps Nana can?” he asked instead, even though he knew that she was far too old to believe such things by now. 

“You can’t. You’re only an elf!”

Charming. 

“True, that.”

“But I am not only an elf. And tonight, I shall be a bird.”

“A good thing you tell me. To me, you still look fairly elvish. But be that as it may, even little birds need to be in bed at this time of day, or do you hear any chirping?”

Again, Lúthien laughed. “But Ada, you are being silly. You know birds have no beds, they have nests!”

“I which they sleep, so it is their beds.” “I’m not tired at all. I must be an owl.”

And gone she was again, whirling around in a dance to a tune clearly only she could hear. As ever, Niphredil sprang at her feet, making the twilit clearing sparkle as the starry heavens above. 

He would let his little owl dance, for why not? If she was still so full of energy, trying to get her to sleep was vain, anyway, and maybe she would burn some of it off while doing what she loved most. And also, the sight of his daughter dancing the stars of the earth into bloom was so devastatingly beautiful that he could not have torn his gaze away had his life depended on it.

At long last, Lúthien stopped dancing to sit down amidst her flowers, throwing the blanket off her.

“I think I am finished being an own. My feathers have become far too hot all of a sudden.”

Smirking slightly, Elu once again tried his luck. “Lúthien… time for bed. Come on.”

She did not even answer this time, but only hummed in response. 

He rolled his eyes. How was it that one word of his sufficed to make all the lands from the Blue Mountains to the sea do his will, when at the same time he could not get one little elfling to bed? Even as he thought this, he felt Melian’s mirth within him, telling him that she had chosen to check in on Lúthien and him in precisely that moment. Apparently, she was highly amused by his helplessness. 

Should you not help a baby being born instead of making fun of your king’s plight? he thought to her, and felt her giggle some more.

All in good time. The little one is in no hurry just yet. 

Focused on his silent conversation with Melian as he was, he did not immediately notice that Lúthien had got back up, and was now walking idly over to where he sat, a freshly woven wreath of flowers in her hands. And once he did, the trap had already snapped shut.

“I thank you, my lady.” he still said courteously as she stood on her toes to put the wreath on his head. “That is very kind of you indeed. But think not that I shall be bribed by even the fairest of circlets. It is bedtime. Now.”

This was not strictly speaking true. On days like this, he would give much -and most certainly yield his will regarding his daughter’s bed-time- to be able to exchange his crown for Lúthien’s wreaths. He wanted to drink it all in, not to miss one single precious moment of her childhood, that was, after all, so very short compared to the endless years of her adult life. He and Melian had already agreed on not ever aiming for another child, aware that bending all rules once and getting away with it had been daring enough. If only their hearts would accept that truth as readily as their minds, though… in any case, that knowledge made Lúthien’s childhood years all the more precious. 

“When I am queen” she said, slumping down beside him and gloriously ignoring his remark about her bedtime “I will order that no elfling has to ever go to bed if they do not wish to.”

Elu raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so? Have I irked you so tonight that you wish me to be gone?”

The shocked look on her face made him want to kick himself the moment he had uttered those words. Of course she had not thought of that, had not considered that she would not be queen while he lived, and the realisation clearly shook her. Therefore hastening to rectify his mistake, he added: “Or else do you expect me to give up the throne freely?”

“Would you?” she asked, intrigued now rather than upset, which made Elu breath a sigh of relief. That had been a tight safe indeed.

“If that be your will, Princess, and given that your mother should be of like mind, I would. It was done like this in the ancient days. The lords at Cuiviénen would rule for a while, and then relinquish lordship in favour of their firstborns. Though know that there is much more to ruling a kingdom than just commanding, and neither your mother nor I would ever dream of interfering with our subjects private affairs, so ordering any parent to raise their children the way you want it is very much out of the question.”

“What is it like, then? Being king?”

Lonely. was the answer that teetered on Elu’s tongue, but he kept the word from crossing his lips just in time. He knew that had he said it, she would then have pitied him, and he certainly did not want to make her feel sad on his behalf any more than he had already done.

“Boring. Mostly.” he offered instead, which made Lúthien laugh.

“Then maybe I shall not be queen after all. I hate everything boring. No, l much rather be a sailor then, like Círdan. Ada, will you make me a hammock out of my blanket? Please do, so it can be my ship.”

He knew full well that he should really refuse her, but he simply could not. Not after the look she had given him when he had foolishly suggested that she wanted his death. Recognising defeat, Elu got up without a word, and tied the ends of her blanket around two young trees, so that it formed a hammock between them. Lúthien laughed in delight, and jumped into the newly made ship, shrieking with both fright and mirth as she almost toppled out again on the other side.

“Careful!” Elu cautioned, but Lúthien had already settled herself in the midst of her hammock, swingling gently from side to side.

“You make a passable shipwright, Ada. I never knew that.”

He burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. As if. Olwë had ever been Círdan’s chosen disciple, not he. He himself had always much preferred swimming to sailing. Not all out of spite, of course.

“I am glad to have been of service. Will you sail to Lord Irmo’s realm, though? I am sure he is desperate to see you.”

“No.” Lúthien laughed, rocking the hammock from side to side still more vigorously. “I told you I am not tired. Oh, help. Look Ada, Ossë is trying to capsize my boat.”

“Surely not” Elu huffed, catching Lúthien as she threw herself out of her hammock without the slightest trace of fear. “…as Ossë would never dare angering your mother. But I take it you are done sailing?”

“Yes. As I am not at all convinced about Ossë. He might make me seasick at the very least.”

“That might well be so. He likes pranks, Ossë does.”

Lúthien laid her head on his shoulder as he one-handedly untied the hammock once more, smirking to himself. She was getting tired, and less persistent with every new game she thought up. A thin sliver of hope at last.

Only he needed her to realise that as well. “Oh look” he said quietly, careful not to trigger her imagination again “Your hair has almost dried by now.”

“Then unbraid it. You did not do my braids properly tonight, they pull!”

He complied, sitting down with her once more and wrapping her in her wings-ship-blanket.

“Well, your wriggled! I always told Elmo that- if you wriggle, the braids turn out all over the place. He learned, so I trust you will, too?”

“I did not wriggle. At least not much. You just weren’t paying attention, Ada!”

Choosing not to admit that she had a fair point there, Elu undid the braids he had worked so hard on weaving earlier, only to burst out laughing as soon as he was done. Lúthien’s yet uncombed hair stood out in all directions, giving her quite a wild look. Annoyed, she reached up to feel it for herself, then promptly jumped to her feet again, grimacing and holding her hands up like claws.

“Grrrrrrr, now I am a wild bear.” she growled, jumping at him, little teeth embedding themselves in his upper arm.

“Ouch! I do not think you’re a bear. You look more like a wolverine to me. They always bite off more than they can chew as well.”

“Do they dance?” Lúthien wanted to know, mercifully letting go of his arm.

“Not that I know of.”

“Pity. But will you dance with me? Just once, oh please, please Ada. And then I will go to sleep, I promise.”

He snorted indignantly.

“Dance with you? After you’ve bitten me?”

“Yes?” She said, hitching the most innocent look possible onto her face “It was the wolverine that bit you after all, not me.”

If she continues like that, she will have ME ready for bed soon, Elu thought exasperatedly, but got to his feet all the same, praying that no-one would dare to spy upon their king now, and watch him make an utter fool of himself. Or at least nobody who did not know that getting an elfling to sleep was much harder than it sounded. 

Elu played along offered Lúthien his hand readily nonetheless, bowing slightly to her as she took it, as if he were truly taking her to a dance at a feast. Very deep down, he did rather enjoy their games, and when would he next have time to play with her like that?

 It was not long, however, until Lúthien got tired of their dancing, and let herself fall onto her back in the very heart of the clearing, gazing at the stars with very tired eyes indeed. Elu, refraining from cheering with difficulty, went to retrieve her blanket, then cautiously lay down as well, stretching out beside her to join her in her star-gazing.

“They’re so beautiful, and so many. The stars. But I think they are turning tonight.” she said in a small voice, slurring the words ever so slightly.

“That may indeed be so. They do that to little elflings who stay up past their bedtime.”

“Will they be normal again tomorrow?”

“Without any doubt. Off to Irmo’s realm you go now, Princess.”

“I want my blanket…” she mumbled, and Elu covered her in it at once. Lúthien snuggled against his chest as he laid his arms around her, and the sheer vastness of the love he felt for her left him sore and raw within, but sweetly so. He would not trade that pain for the world.

“You took your time and my nerves tonight, my most precious little menace.” he whispered once she was asleep, her face buried in his tunic. He turned gently onto his side, careful not to dislodge her. How many more nights would pass like this, with her sleeping in his arms? How long until she would trade the safety of her parents’ bed for her own? Not that that thought was an entirely sad one, there was a part of him that very much longed to have Melian to himself again at night, but still… that he would return to sleeping in his wife’s arms he knew with certainty, whereas those cuddles with Lúthien would not return once she outgrew them. They were numbered, and rightly so. Only that made the knowledge no less painful. 

But that bittersweet day was still far away. For now, she needed his warmth, especially today. She, too, had felt the tension and the insecurities of the evening, Elu was well aware of that. He looked forward to introducing her the her new cousin in the morning, or whenever the brand-new parents and brother felt ready to deal with the little whirlwind that was Lúthien. Elu wondered how she would adjust to having a younger elfling in the family, for until now, she had been the baby, and been pampered not only by all her family, but by the entire kingdom. He inwardly flinched. Likely, what Lúthien would love most about her new cousin was that she would have someone younger to boss around. Not that she did not try that with anyone, anyway, but being the older one actually gave her authority. Authority that she would abuse as much as possible without any doubt.

How could something that looked so innocent be such an imp, he wondered as he carefully withdrew his arm from underneath her, so that she now rested on the soft grass, wrapped securely in her blanket. Lúthien sighed and smacked her lips a little in her sleep, but did not wake, so he challenged his luck some more and pressed a gentle goodnight-kiss to her temple. He would carry her to bed later, he just wanted to savour the peace and quiet of the moment for a bit longer…

“Elu!”

He jerked awake, shaking his head to get all the sleepiness out of his eyes, completely disorientated. He had no idea where he was for what had happened, only that his brother stood chuckling beside him.

“Hush. I did not mean to startle you. But she did a good job getting you to sleep, it seems? You both looked very sweet!”

His mind clearing, Elu huffed.

“No.” he insisted, scowling at Elmo, who held a sleeping Galathil in his arms. “I got her first.”

Not that he had lasted particularly long after Lúthien had drifted off to sleep, but still his pride did not allow him to admit that. Not to his very awake little brother. Not to his very awake little brother who carried a sleeping elfling around. 

Elmo put Galathil down beside Lúthien rather unperturbed, then turned to beam at Elu.

“Another beautiful little boy. Honestly, how did you manage to have a girl within this family that apparently only ever yields lads? Anyway, all are well and very happy. You go and see them, I will stay and watch over the children.”

Elu smiled, getting swiftly to his feet to embrace his brother tightly.

“Congratulations. Oh, I am so happy for you. But you stay with them, it is your grandson after all.”

Elmo laughed as he detached himself from Elu, saying:

“I have watched him being born, and besides, the only member of family who has not welcomed our precious little boy yet is you. And the children, of course. Imagine, Galathil just slept through all the birth. Completely untroubled. But that is all the better. Celebren and Galadhon deserve that little time with their new baby alone.”

“Oh, good.” Elu sighed in relief “I was worried about Galathil, about how he might be very upset by the arrival of his new sibling. He is still so very young.”

“Oh no. He was simply bored by the lack of process, so -pragmatic as he is- he decided the time was best spent sleeping. But I admit I was glad to put him down now. He’ is getting too tall to be carried around.”

A few words of parting and another hug later, Elu walked swiftly through he forest, his heart overflowing with joy and anticipation. And yet, there was also this ever-present tweak of longing and grief that came with the birth of a new child, an event that would make him think inevitably think of his own childhood and youth, of Olwë, of adventures shared with Finwë, of the bittersweet task of raising his youngest brother. He wondered sometimes how it might have been to live an ordinary life, not as a king, but a fisherman and minstrel at Cuiviénen. He wondered how it would be like to have a son also, or another daughter. But then, his wife could not be Melian, and that thought alone was enough for him to be quite content again with things as they were. And tonight, none of this mattered anyway. Tonight, the birth of Galadhon’s second son mattered, the birth of another member of the family. And the joy of that was the same everywhere, and regardless of whether he was king or not.

Stepping into a clearing that had just welcomed new life was always something magical, and he lingered in the shadows of the trees for a moment without making his presence known, just savouring the beauty of the scene before his eyes. Celebren sat propped against her husband, cradling a little bundle of white linen in her arms. Beside her, stroking her hair lovingly, sat Oropher, his face alight with pride at his sister and new nephew. 

Elu remembered well when they first came to Eglador, the first ambassadors of Lenwë’s people, who had ventured over the Blue Mountains in advance of Denethor, who they claimed played with the thought of crossing the mountains into Beleriand as well, to see if the lands beyond were friendly. 

Well, Elu thought wryly, they had most certainly found they were, so much so that they had made his realm their home. He was glad of it, first and foremost because his nephew had found his companion in Celebrex, but also because of the tidings from Denethor. He had but been a babe in arms when Lenwë had abandoned the journey, which had left Elu always wondering if Denethor’s birth had not indeed been the reason for Lenwë to stay in the vale of Anduin. Thônwen in particular was thrilled at the prospect of perhaps getting to know here nephew, and perhaps also learn of how her brother fared. Elu knew well that she had never regretted parting with Lenwë for the sake of her love for Elmo, but had experience enough with being parted from siblings to be certain that she would be desperate for news of Lenwë nonetheless. 

Feeling almost sorry for disturbing the peace of the scene, Elu stepped forwards at last, smiling at Melian and Thônwen, who acknowledged his coming with joy, as did Galadhon and Celebren. Oropher, however, made to rise. Elu gestured him quietly to stay where he was, quelling the bitterness that this roused in him. Could he not even welcome his grand-nephew like any other elf? Must he always be king, even among his own family?

Celebren, bright as she was, must have guessed Elu’s thoughts, for she rolled her eyes at him with a wry smile on her face.

“No, I am afraid he will never learn, you need not wonder. Just ignore it. It always worked best for me.”

Everyone safe Oropher snorted with laughter at her remark, and even for him, her little slight towards him seemed to have taken the edge out of the situation.

“He is so sweet.” Melian said, once she had wrapped her arm around Elu’s waist, bringing the conversation gently back to the newborn elfling.

“Incredibly sweet.” Thônwen agreed. “And I am still so glad he is not mine.”

“Was I this bad?” Galadhon asked with a laugh.

“Oh no. Lively, yes, but not bad. Motherhood only never really agreed with me. I am much happier as a grandmother and aunt.” While all laughed, Elu gently disentangled himself from his wife to crouch down beside Celebren and Galadhon, kissing both their brows in silent congratulations, then made to take a proper look at their new son at last. 

The baby had clearly inherited Elmo’s silver hair rather than the white-blond of both his parents, and overall looked very much like his elder brother- safe that he was a little larger than Galathil had been at birth.

“He is going to be tall. Look at his feet and hands, and at his fingers. He might well become as fine a harper as you are, Galadhon.”

As if to prove Elu’s words, the little baby stretched in his sleep, with a very funny grimace on his tiny face. 

“He has been doing this a lot. We joked about him being like a young tree, eager to stretch to the heavens.” Galadhon agreed, smiling down proudly at his son.

Elu carefully extended one finger, only just not stroking the baby’s hair so as not to risk waking him. 

“Well met, little princeling!” he whispered, trying to quell his longing to stroke that soft little silvery head.

The newborn-phase of his own daughter was still sufficiently keen in his memory, however, to do any such thing while the little boy slept. He would hold him, and cuddle him, and properly greet him, only not just yet. There would be more than enough time for that, before the little prince would be officially named and introduced to the court in a few days. This very first time, however, belonged to the young parents, new siblings and caring family among the Eglath, and the royal house was so exception to that.

“His name will be Celeborn.” Celebren added quietly, and Elu nodded his approval.

“A name well befitting.”

As Elu rose again so as to let his niece and nephew focus again on their baby, Melian put an arm around him once more and laid her head upon his shoulder, and he knew her feelings. They shared the happiness of the moment, but also the grief that came with it, the grief of knowing that they would never live through the birth of a child again themselves. That knowledge hurt, even though they both knew it was for the best.

It was fine though. They were fine. Even if life had taken turns that they had both never anticipated, the fact that they had each other, and their family, and above all Lúthien, made them blessed beyond measure.

[skambigbang]

The Skam Big Bang 2023 is officially over!

27 new Skam stories & artworks

100+ Writers, Artists, Betas & Mods

6 Skam verses

26+ countries

24 time zones

9 months of hard work

3 months of new content almost daily and

1 MILLION+ words written

Thank you to everyone who participated this year for all your hard work, for the community you supported, and the friendship you fostered. You keep fandom dynamic and vibrant! Thank you to everyone who read, kudoed and commented, for your support and encouragement!

Though officially done, we will be posting all the amazing artwork in the days to come AND putting out calls for a new set of mods to take over the reins. Get involved, engage with the community and continue to build something special!

Alt er Love! Your Skam Big Bang 2023 Mod Squad

[skamkollektivet]

It’s Winter Solstice and that means our Winter Wonderland Creator Challenge is complete ❄️ it’s time to enjoy some SKAM art and stories created by the Skamily ☃️ Alt er Love 🩵

@helcef @cerberulix @mrs_robinson @anaisanais-stuff @kosegruppie @maxence4ever

[i-did-not-mean-to]

October 15th

Mist

This one is my attempt at writing a rare-pair (referenced in passing in the story of the 4th).

It's very short and slightly sad! Be advised!

Words: 186

Warnings: sadness

Elwë, who was now called Elu Thingol, looked upon the mist rising from the damp ground morosely; it had been many weeks since he had learned of the demise of his old friend and yet, time had done nothing to dull the pain raging within his chest.

Had he suffered? Had he cried out the name of one who – long before the unfortunate fading of Míriel – had deserted him so callously for the luminous eyes of Melian the Maia? Had he even been able to remember then, esteemed patriarch and whirlwind husband that he had become at that point, that pale hand he had once clasped so tightly at the shores of a blessed lake?

Elu Thingol, who had laid Elwë – brother of Olwë, lover of Finwë – to rest in a verdant meadow, sat on the weeping moss and saw the reflection of eyes he’d forsaken an eternity ago in the wavering fog.

Greymantle they called him and – cloaked in a grief that had neither name nor limit – he knelt in the forest, alone and disconsolate, and the tears on his cold cheeks felt like mist.

@fellowshipofthefics here's my entry for the 15th then :D

Lots of love from me <3 (and I'm sorry if anyone is offended, Finwë is dead and Thingol shall soon be too...so no biggie)

-> Masterlist

[a-funeral-pyre]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47609365 

So I did a little thing

[ladywithaquill]

The Line of Durin was Tainted by an Elf (Series)

Together Forever

Trying to Save His Friends

A Dwarf’s Declaration

Unsatiable

The Portrait

Smaugs ~For Smoking Hot Bois and Gurls~

A Love Hate Relationship

The New Cute Boy

A Surprise Gift for Christmas

To Survive a Dragon

Happy Birthday T

You

There Once Lived Kings

Strong Like a Horse

Their First Meeting

Still Connected

A Love Lost During Battle

A Feather Will Do

In Dire Need of a Smith

Initium Novum (Series) WIP (Latest)

Meeting The March Warden of Lothlórien

Becoming a Father

Blonde Thieves

Rescue at Helm’s Deep

New Beginnings

Because You Are a Sindar Elf

New Beginnings

The Recital

Another Love

A Merry Christmas Indeed

A Visitor

The Birth of a King (Series) WIP

Thorin and His Burglar

Making the Right Decision

The King's Lover

You Should've Killed Me

The Loss of A Lover

Ethuil (Latest)

[sotwk]

Hi, I was just wondering if you have any thoughts on Oropher’s wife/Thranduil’s mum? Is she dead? If so, how did she die? If she’s alive, is she still in the Greenwood or is she kicking about elsewhere? I have my own half-baked ideas but I wondered what yours were

Oooh thank you for asking for my thoughts on this! I got thoughts on everything, like a good Thranduil-obssessor. *pulls out my Notes folder* This dear, sweet lady never gets any attention, but she is certainly not forgotten by me!

I mentioned Thranduil's mother in this headcanon post about his birth, as well as my one-shot fic The Crown, but I am happy to provide more info below!

Thranduil's Mother in the SotWK AU

Oropher's wife was Lady Meluiel of Doriath, a Sinda from the same clan of Teleri that migrated into Beleriand, following Elu Thingol.

Apart from being Thranduil’s mother, she was also the younger sister of the great Beleg Cúthalion, which made Beleg Thranduil's uncle and mentor. (more HC info on their relationship here)

Meluiel was a trusted handmaiden to Queen Melian, and for a time also helped raise Lúthien Tinúviel during her childhood.

She was known for her sweet and cheerful disposition, contrasting with Oropher's more somber personality, but Oropher loved her so very deeply.

Thranduil was a bit of a rebellious child, with a wilder spirit than Lord Oropher would have preferred, so it was not uncommon for Meluiel to have to play mediator between father and son.

She would often encourage Thranduil to pursue the interests Oropher disliked, and behave according to his true self, rather than adjust his personality to please his father. Thranduil took this to heart and developed a fierce independence from his father (and his like-minded kinsmen) early on.

Sadly, Meluiel was among the many Elves of Doriath who perished in the Second Kinslaying. At the time, she was a lady in Queen Nimloth's court and was with her at the time of the attack. Meluiel was slain in a final stand trying to protect the young princes, Eluréd and Elurín.

For this reason, Oropher developed an unforgiving prejudice and hatred for the Noldor, which he carried with him for the rest of his life. This is also why he fought against Thranduil's love for Maereth (of direct Fëanorian descent--the horror!) for centuries before he finally (and reluctantly) consented to their union.

Thranduil was only 54 years old when his mother died; enough to have memories of her and to miss her terribly. As a result, he too was angry at the Noldor, and remained biased against them.

However, his bias was not strong enough to prevent him from fighting alongside Noldorin warriors during the War of Wrath. During this war, Thranduil befriended a few Noldor, some of whom he continued to associate with in the Second Age while he lived in Lindon. The most notable of these friends is Ivenil (a SotWK OC, appears in "Greenleaf's Day Out"), who followed Thranduil and his Sindarin kin to Greenwood. He eventually became an important member of King Thranduil's council.

Thranduil's openness of mind and ability to see past his own hate and prejudices in effect made him a stronger ruler than his father, since it allowed him to foster relationships with the other Elf-lords and peoples of Middle-earth--even the Dwarves!

His beloved mother would have been proud. <3

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[surrealsunday]

10 Things I’ll Tattoo on You

10 Things I Hate About You AU

It’s a terrible idea from the start. Eliott knows that. But when presented with the possibility of a date with a cute boy for a generous sum of much-needed cash, could anyone blame him for taking resident-asshole-Charles-Munier up on the offer? Well, yes. Lucas Lallemant could. But there’s no need for him to find out about the arrangement. A date and it’s done. Easy enough. Or it would be... if Lucas wasn’t... Lucas. Head-strong, stubborn, cheeky, and everything Eliott didn’t know he needed. In conclusion: He’s fucked.

CHAPTER 3

[amusasolitaria]

QUEM É A MUSA SOLITÁRIA?

APRESENTAÇÃO

Para começar a falar sobre mim mais intimamente. Sou queer/pomossexual; e uma pessoa gênero-fluído — a quem deseja um rótulo, embora eu não dependa deles — e sim, eu uso ela/dela, ele/dele, e elu/delu.Sou uma artista desde que me entendo por gente, comecei escrever aos dezesseis anos, e comecei da poesia para as fanfictions, e só entre dezoito e agora que comecei a me alçar em mais gêneros literários; e publicar aos meus dezoito anos, e atualmente tenho vinte e um anos. Escrevo e divulgo com mais frequência: ficção fantástica, ficção histórica, ficção queer/lgbtqia+; fora crônicas, contos e poesias. Mas, devo reiterar que já escrevi os subgêneros de uma das citadas acima, a saber: fantasia alta, baixa, e sombria. E outros gêneros de ficção os quais já me arrisquei: fição erótica, ficção contemporânea; ficção científica: punk e space opera; romance: new young e young adult; new young, young adult, ficção de fã/fanfiction/fanfic/fic, contos de fadas, horror, terror, trilher e suspense.

sou PAH/SD, e sou também filomata, polímata, designer, ilustradora/capista, graduante de psicologia, entusiasta da sexologia, e futura sexóloga e terapeuta sexual, entusiasta das ciências humanas, biológicas, linguagens e códigos, e sociais; nos tempos livres, também faço: canto, atuação e dublagem. A título de curiosidade, eu sou uma espiritualista universalista. E pratico yoga, mudra, dhyana, sutra, ho'oponopono, tai chi chuan, e calistenia. Meus esportes preferidos e que já pratiquei foram natação e vôlei.

=====================

ADENDO

Vou explicar alguns termos que coloquei no texto que podem ser de interesse de quem lê

Queer/Pomossexual:

"Ser queer/pomossexual é se identificar fora das normas tradicionais de gênero e sexualidade. Se você se sente que não se encaixa perfeitamente como heterossexual ou dentro das expectativas convencionais de gênero, você pode se considerar queer. Isso inclui uma ampla gama de identidades, como ser gay, lésbica, bissexual ou transgênero, e etc; também significa que você não gosta de rótulos tradicionais para sua orientação sexual. Você pode ter várias relações e atrações sem querer se identificar como gay, hétero, bissexual, ou qualquer outro rótulo. É uma abordagem mais fluida e pós-moderna da sexualidade e gênero.

Eu confesso que para uma maioria não deve ser comum ler "pomossexual", ou até próprio "queer", mas eu me identifico assim. Eu não amo rótulos, eu amo pessoas, não corpos e genitalias, e mesmo quando amo, eu não sou um rótulo, mesmo que eu já tenha tentado.

Gênero-Fluído: "Ser gênero-fluído é quando você sente que seu gênero muda ao longo do tempo. Em alguns momentos, você pode se sentir mais masculino, em outros mais feminino, ou talvez uma mistura dos dois, ou mesmo nenhum dos dois. Ser gênero-fluído significa que sua identidade de gênero é flexível e pode variar, permitindo que você experimente e expresse seu gênero de diferentes maneiras ao longo do tempo. Cada pessoa gênero-fluído vive essa experiência de forma única, então não há uma única maneira de ser gênero-fluído."

.

AH/SD

Altas habilidades ou superdotação é quem possui capacidade mental significativamente acima da média comum. Como um talento, a superdotação é a aptidão para atividades intelectuais, artísticas ou esportivas que parecem ser inatas, uma vez que a pessoa superdotada parece apresentar tais habilidades sem que se possa explicar como aprenderam. Contudo, tais aptidões ou habilidades também são desenvolvidas através de esforço pessoal e é um erro pensar que pessoas superdotadas não precisam ser ensinadas, elas apenas precisam de uma educação diferenciada que atenda a sua demanda de conhecimento.

Não confundir com precoces e gênios, pois há esses estereótipos; mas aprendem algumas coisas de um jeito diferente e mais rápido. Elas podem gostar muito de certos assuntos e querem aprender tudo sobre eles. Inclusive, às vezes, a alta-habilidade/superdotação não é reconhecida na infância e as crianças alto-habilidosas são, por vezes, diagnosticadas como tendo transtorno afetivo bipolar, transtorno do déficit de atenção com hiperatividade, transtorno desafiador e de oposição, depressão, ansiedade, transtorno obsessivo-compulsivo ou outras.

.

Autodidatismo

Autodidata é a pessoa que tem a capacidade de aprender algo sem ter um professor ou mestre lhe ensinando ou ministrando aulas. O próprio indivíduo, com seu esforço particular intui, busca e pesquisa o material necessário para sua aprendizagem.

.

Polímata

Imagine uma pessoa que não só gosta de aprender sobre muitas coisas diferentes, mas que também se torna realmente competente e capacitada em várias dessas áreas. Essa pessoa é chamada de "polímata".

Um polímata é alguém curioso e apaixonado por aprender, que não se limita a apenas um campo do conhecimento. Eles podem saber muito sobre ciência, arte, música, literatura, tecnologia e muito mais. Pense em figuras Leonardo da Vinci, que embora órfão, e sem educação formal era pintor, inventor, cientista e muito mais. Ele é um exemplo clássico de polímata.

Ser polímata é como sempre querer explorar conhecimento, sempre buscando entender e conectar diferentes áreas de estudo para ver o mundo de uma forma mais completa e criativa.

(A palavra "polímata" vem do grego antigo "polymathēs" (πολυμαθής), onde "poly" (πολύ) significa "muitos" e "mathēs" (μαθής) significa "aprendizagem" ou "conhecimento". Portanto, "polímata" literalmente significa "aquele que aprendeu muito" ou "aquele que possui conhecimento em muitas áreas".)

.

Filomata Pense em uma pessoa que sente uma grande alegria em descobrir coisas novas, seja lendo livros, assistindo a documentários, explorando novos hobbies ou simplesmente fazendo perguntas sobre o mundo ao seu redor. Eles têm uma curiosidade insaciável e estão sempre buscando aprender algo novo. Um filomata não precisa ser um especialista em vários campos como um polímata, mas sim alguém que aprecia o processo de aprender e valoriza o conhecimento por si mesmo. É alguém que vê o aprendizado como uma aventura contínua e emocionante.

(A palavra "filomata" também vem do grego, onde "philo" (φίλο) significa "amor" e "matēs" (ματής) significa "aprendizagem" ou "conhecimento". Assim, "filomata" pode ser entendido como "aquele que ama aprender" ou "aquele que tem amor pelo conhecimento".)

.

Sexologia Imagine que você tem um amigo com quem pode conversar sobre qualquer coisa, inclusive aquelas questões sobre sexo que às vezes são difíceis de abordar. Esse amigo é um sexólogo. Um sexólogo é alguém que estudou bastante sobre a sexualidade humana para poder ajudar as pessoas a entenderem melhor suas próprias vidas sexuais, resolverem problemas e terem relacionamentos mais saudáveis e felizes. Sexologia é o estudo da sexualidade humana em todas as suas formas. Isso inclui entender como e por que as pessoas se sentem atraídas umas pelas outras, como funcionam nossos corpos durante o sexo, e como as emoções e os relacionamentos influenciam nossa vida sexual. É como um guia que nos ajuda a navegar pelas águas muitas vezes complicadas da sexualidade. Os sexólogos vêm de diferentes áreas, como psicologia, medicina e educação, mas todos têm em comum o desejo de ajudar as pessoas a viverem uma vida sexual mais plena e satisfatória. Eles podem ajudar com coisas práticas, como problemas de disfunção sexual ou questões de identidade de gênero, mas também estão lá para falar sobre sentimentos, medos e expectativas. Um sexólogo pode trabalhar como terapeuta, conversando com você sobre suas preocupações e ajudando a encontrar soluções. No final das contas, a sexologia é sobre criar um espaço seguro onde você pode aprender, perguntar e crescer. É sobre entender que a sexualidade é uma parte natural e importante da vida, e que todos nós merecemos nos sentir bem e seguros em relação a ela.

.

Espiritualismo Universalista

O espiritualismo universalista é uma perspectiva que valoriza a busca espiritual como algo que transcende as fronteiras religiosas e culturais, focando na essência espiritual comum a todas as tradições e crenças. Imagine que você está explorando o sentido mais profundo da vida e da existência. O espiritualismo universalista é como uma jornada interior que convida você a descobrir conexões profundas entre todas as pessoas e todas as formas de espiritualidade. Ele não se prende a uma única religião ou dogma, mas sim busca compreender os princípios universais que unem todas as tradições espirituais. Isso significa que no espiritualismo universalista, você é encorajado a encontrar sua própria verdade espiritual, seja através da meditação, reflexão pessoal, ou explorando diferentes ensinamentos espirituais. Ele promove a ideia de que todos nós compartilhamos uma essência espiritual comum, e que através dessa conexão podemos encontrar harmonia, compreensão e paz interior. É uma abordagem que respeita a diversidade das crenças e culturas, reconhecendo que cada pessoa pode ter uma jornada espiritual única e significativa. Ao abraçar o espiritualismo universalista, você está abrindo-se para um caminho de crescimento espiritual que é inclusivo, compassivo e profundamente pessoal.

(Entenda 'não é espiritismo e nem universalismo apenas', o espiritismo é uma crença na comunicação com espíritos após a morte, oferecendo conforto e orientação espiritual através de médiuns. O universalismo, por sua vez, celebra valores e princípios universais compartilhados por todas as pessoas, promovendo a compreensão e aceitação entre diferentes culturas e crenças. O espiritualismo amplia essa visão, enfocando a existência de uma dimensão espiritual além do físico, encorajando práticas como meditação e busca de significado espiritual. Já o espiritualismo universalista combina esses elementos, valorizando a busca espiritual além das fronteiras religiosas específicas, buscando uma compreensão inclusiva e harmoniosa da essência espiritual compartilhada por todos. Cada uma dessas abordagens oferece caminhos únicos para explorar a vida, o significado da existência e o crescimento espiritual pessoal, promovendo uma jornada interior de autoconhecimento e conexão com o mundo ao nosso redor.)

.

Técnicas Holísticas

Yoga une corpo, mente e espírito através de posturas físicas, técnicas de respiração e meditação para promover equilíbrio e harmonia. Mudras são gestos das mãos que não só influenciam a energia física e mental, mas também conectam com aspectos sutis da consciência. Dhyana, ou meditação profunda, busca integrar mente e espírito para alcançar clareza mental e paz interior. Sutras são ensinamentos curtos que guiam práticas espirituais e filosóficas, oferecendo orientação holística para uma vida alinhada com valores elevados. Ho'oponopono, prática havaiana de perdão, não só promove cura emocional e relacional, mas restaura equilíbrio espiritual e mental. Tai Chi Chuan usa movimentos suaves para fortalecer o corpo e promover harmonia energética e equilíbrio interior. Calistenia, com exercícios que usam peso corporal, melhora saúde física, mental e emocional de maneira simples e integrada. Cada uma dessas técnicas visa não apenas melhorar o corpo físico, mas também promover bem-estar integral, abordando aspectos essenciais da pessoa em sua busca por saúde, equilíbrio e crescimento pessoal.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

we are a pair of mirrors that face each other

He expected it to be bad, but the state of Melyanna’s ëala still surprises him.

He remembers her as she used to be well, in the Music: a kaleidoscope of pale shadow and mellow colors, warm and cool simultaneously, shimmering within the emptiness before creation. He remembers singing with her – the two of them alone, the two of them with other Maiar, the two of them with all the Ainur, the two of them with Father. Her voice was high and haunting and pure, her precision unmatched.

Keep reading on ao3

[shezzarus]

sur l'ordre de @jananabananawithnopeel je poste ce headcanon de fanfic que j'ai retrouvé dans mes drafts, si quelqu'un veut se dévouer, allez-y hein

sur ce:

------

dans une suite d’un univers parallele de kaamelott, je m’imagine une Guenievre ayant pactisé dans son enfance avec les dieux pour aider le futur Elu roi de bretagne à sauver le pays quoi qu’il arrive. dans cette fanfiction mentale ca implique qu’elle a accepté de se sacrifier en echange force astrale à soulever la nature.

quelque part au milieu d’une nouvelle preparation de bataille contre Lancelot, Mevanwi s’étant retranchée sur quelques terres maudites version Reine des Glaces de Narnia, lors d’une nuit pour préparer un assaut, Guenievre se releve de la couche royale dictée par une fée messagère pour se rendre en forêt, près d’un plan d’eau où lui sont rappelé ce pacte, son engagement, son role; et lui sont donné les consignes qui guideront son geste.

Arthur l’a suivie, de loin. il l’a entendue se lever, il a feint de dormir et lui a emboité le pas hors de leur tente, hors de leur chambre. il arrive au moment où Guenievre se prosterne, genou à terre devant ce spectre et sa cour luisante. le souffle court il l’observe accepter un objet qu’il ne discerne pas tout de suite et son cri s’étrangle lorsque d’un mouvement brusque elle le porte haut, et se l’enfonce dans la poitrine d’une main tremblante mais déterminée. il l’entend qui étouffe un hurlement de douleur et la voit s’affaisser sur elle meme tandis que la foret autour d’eux semble se mettre à tourbillonner, à s’agiter: le vent soulève les feuilles mortes dans une energie furieuse, il lui semble que la terre tremble, les rochers grondent et l’eau remue jusqu’à l’aveugler.

et quand tout se calme lui a l’impression que sa vie s’est effondré avec Guenievre dont le corps offert et inerte a paru briller intensément l’espace de quelques secondes comme pour lui imposer l’évidence qu’elle vient de le quitter pour quelle que raison transcendante. elle lui a été arrachée et il n’a rien pu faire, trop sidéré par ce secret qui le laisse abandonné. hébété, il se précipite vers elle, ignorant l’assemblée magique qui se dissipe et se disperse. il trébuche, l’appelle, peste et la tâtonne l’air hagard lorsqu’il se rend compte qu’effectivement, elle gît dans ses bras.

il pleure jusqu’à l’aube dans cette clairière où tout s’est passé trop vite.

il ne sait pas très bien comment il rentre au camp d’entrainement, fébrile et désespéré, incapable d’expliquer à Léodagan ou Séli ce qui s’est passé. il n’y a que Merlin qui comprend, un air étrange et fermé sur le visage qui ne lui ressemble pas. Merlin d’ailleurs ne dit rien à part d’allonger la Reine sur le lit de soins et que tout le monde doit dégager, mmmm

[ladysternchen]

Yet Were Its Making Good, For This- Part Two- Revealed

Even in his wildest dreams, Mablung would not have dared hope for the chance to share one more kiss with Elu, a kiss without hiding and most of all, a kiss to which they could both consent, that was not not a desperate, heart-wrenching farewell. As their lips touched, however, the scene of that last time played again before his eyes, keen and cruel, and Mablung drew back sobbing, turning his face away in despair.

“Oh Mablung…” 

Elu merely breathed those words, his concern very apparent, with his hand still resting on Mablung’s cheek. 

“I…” Mablung began, but words failed him. And after all, how could he ever explain to Elu that it was the memory of their last kiss that so upset him now? He could not even voice it within his own head. 

“I cannot bear to say.” he managed at last, tears now cascading down his face.

There was a curious look on Elu’s face as he gently made Mablung look up.

“I think you don’t need to say it. I think I know.”

“How?”

Mablung felt deeply shaken. He had chosen to bury this memory, and Lord Námo himself had given him leave to do so. Nobody knew of that kiss, not even Melian. Then how…

“I know that it was you who found me.” Elu went on “And by your reaction, I think I can guess what you did there, in the smithy, when you were alone with my body and had nothing to lose, but a farewell to gain.”

Mablung could not look away from Elu’s light-grey eyes, and he thought he would drown in his gaze, and be quite content to do so.

“This time, though…” 

Elu paused to tenderly grace Mablung’s lips with his, waiting for Mablung to react, to tell him without words whether or not he was comfortable. Mablung did not know what he wanted, nor what he would be able to bear. After a moment, Elu again drew back a little and continued:

“This time, I am kissing you, and I’m alive, and breathing, and my heart beats.”

Mablung sobbed helplessly as Elu took his hand and pressed his palm tightly to his chest, so that Mablung could feel his heartbeat beneath his fingers.

“And it is because of you that it does so.”

Mablung blinked, bewildered. As Elu went on, there was a quaver in his voice and tears shimmering in his eyes.

“You see, there would have been a way for Melian to be with me, even had I refused Lord Námo’s offer for good. Maiar, after all, need no bodies. Or at least Lord Námo assured me that we would find a solution everyone might live with. But you… I knew that all was taken care of, that Dior reigned over the Iathrim and called to Olwë as High-King. I knew that my people were looked after by them both, and by who better? Beleg left the Halls healed, saddened and grieving, but hale. Even Elmo went from Mandos free of the shadow of our bond. He could finally be himself. He doesn’t need me anymore. This hurt to admit, even if I was tremendously relieved.”

Elmo made a noise as if to protest, but Elu paid him no heed, continuing instead:

“So really, there was no point for me to leave Mandos. I cannot overcome my grief, I am not healed, as they put it. So really, it makes no difference for me where I mourn my children, and curse my own stupidity. 

But you, Mablung, you left the Halls on my bidding only. Even after all I made you go through, even after death, you left me in Mandos because I asked you to, because I didn’t want you to refuse life on my account. You were so loyal, so true that you once again put my will above your wellbeing. And I would not have been able to bear to be myself had I abandoned you after that. I knew nothing of the statute, I knew not that we would be allowed to be together. Even less did I know that my… my wonderful wife would be prepared to agree to it. I should have known of course, but it truly never crossed my mind. But I did know that you had always wanted to be by my side regardless. That was the reason for my return in the end. I love you, Mablung. I have always loved you and dearly missed you, and I will be eternally grateful to the Valar and all the elves -and  people pretending to be elves- who made it possible for us to now explore this love fully. Come here. It’s alright. I’m never going to leave you again.”

With those last words, Elu wrapped his arms around Mablung once more, and Mablung leaned his head against Elu’s shoulder. They both cried openly now, and Mablung was holding Elu so tightly he knew he must hurt him but he could not help it. And Elu returned the embrace, cradling Mablung, his lips pressed firmly to the top of his head.

“I think it is time for us to leave you two.” Melian said after what felt like ten thousand years and only a heartbeat at the same time. “Enjoy your time tonight, Mablung, as I don’t plan on giving up on Elu all too often. But tonight he is yours, and then we shall work this out together. I mean, I’d say I’ll join you, but that would feel remarkably like fucking my little brother, with is… weird.”

Elu laughed and pulled Melian into their embrace as well. Mablung grinned, too, and wondered if he’d actually like that or not. He had never in his life even thought of being intimate with a woman, but if there ever could be an exception to that, that exception surly must be Melian.

The feeling in Mablung’s stomach remarkably resembled nervousness as he and Elu were finally alone. So much was yet unsaid between them, and for so much Mablung had no words, so he instead busied himself with unrolling his cloak and unpacking his things.

“Are you hungry?” he asked over his shoulder, even though he himself had no mind whatsoever for food. 

It was no surprise therefore that Elu declined the offer, too. 

“Right. I let you off tonight, but you’ll eat breakfast with me tomorrow.”

Elu sighed exasperatedly but chuckled all the same, which made Mablung turn at last. He was still almost astounded to see him truly standing there, after he had so long ago ceased to hope. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, then Elu said tentatively.

“I don’t know how you feel, but my head is swimming with everything that happened today. What if we just lie down and watch the stars together, like we used to? Or we just keep staring awkwardly at each other. How is it that nobody explains how odd this is when one is still in Mandos? And…” he added as an afterthought “… the others’ expectations don’t help, either. Not at all. I’m really sorry, Mablung, for making this so incredibly awkward.”

Now it was Mablung’s turn to laugh as he sat down on his unfolded cloak, and he was quite relieved when Elu joined him after a moment. Mablung could hear him curse under his breath.

“Do you have a comb? Melian and I shared hers ever since I was released from the Halls, but obviously she has it with her now and…”

Mablung remembered that only too well, that awkward time after his reembodiment when he had lacked everything he had taken for granted in his first life- spare clothes, knife, comb, cup and bowl… it helped not, either, that the customs of Alqualondë were so very different from those of Menegroth. Coming to think of it, he had no idea where Elu planned to live from now on, or whether he had given any thought to it at all yet. All that could wait, though, and he contented himself for the moment with handing Elu his comb, and watch as he undid the two thin braids that had kept his hair out of his eyes, then started to comb through his silver tresses. Mablung could not restrain himself and reached out, running his fingers through Elu’s hair as well.

“I’ve always admired your hair, you know that?”

Elu only smiled, then handed the comb back and started to re-braid his hair, this time weaving it into only one large plait. Mablung could not take his eyes off him, that sight being so painfully familiar and dear to him that it moved him almost to tears. 

“I still need to braid it for the night. I… oh, it’s embarrassing, but I seem to have forgotten how to sleep with it open without lying on it. I never thought one could forget. It’s only now that I have one again that I realise what a nuisance a body is.”

Mablung remembered that feeling very well. He had felt so very clumsy during that first time, too.

“It’s not embarrassing. Every single reembodied elf had to deal with that, or at least every one who rebuild their body with their hair as long as yours. I never got how you ever could sleep with it open, anyway. That you could made you all the more marvellous to me, though.”

Whatever was the matter with him, Mablung wondered as he felt his cheeks burn. Talking like that had always been Beleg’s domain, not his, and most certainly not Elu’s, who looked just as embarrassed as Mablung felt. A strange recklessness had come over him, though. Tonight, he would leave nothing unsaid. Tonight, he would talk about everything that came into his mind. If he were to truly bond after four Ages of this world as a bachelor, then he could not leave anything in the dark.

He therefore reached out again, and tucked a strand of hair loose from Elu’s braid and twirled it around his finger.

“You will re-learn, beloved.” He said hoarsely “If you wish to.”

There was the smallest involuntary intake of breath at being addressed thus, Mablung noted, but still Elu did not challenge the term. Instead, he wordlessly reached for the comb again, and started to unbraid and comb Mablung’s hair. Mablung would never ever have thought the act of combing to be so intimate. He had been a warden, and keeping his hair neat and orderly a necessity, not a pleasure. And never could he have thought that getting his hair braided could actually make his groin stir. He did not react to the sensation, however. Whatever Melian’s words before, they were not there yet.

At last Elu laid down the comb and  leaned back against a mossy boulder, spreading his arms slightly as he did so. Mablung followed the invitation, shifting closer to Elu and laying his head upon the latter’s shoulder. 

“I don’t even have a name to call you by.” he whispered, tracing the fine features of Elu’s face with the tips of his fingers, still somewhat in disbelief that he truly could do that again. 

Elu smiled wryly.

“Call me however you want. I don’t know myself. It will be Elwë in the end, I think. Elmo mostly goes with this, and Lord Námo called me that, and Olwë obviously does… Melian keeps with Elu. I promise I’ll answer to both.”

Mablung couldn’t help but notice how resigned Elu sounded. Was it that he was just weary of the endless discussions about his person in general, or because he did not even have a say in his own name?

“It bothers you.” he therefore stated calmly.

“No. I just… I don’t know who I am anymore. Truth be told, I don’t know if I ever knew.”

“I can imagine. And maybe you truly need to discover that anew. But Elwë you are still, my -our- star, named for the beauty of your eyes, or so Círdan claims, and your aunt. Do you know that your descendants still carry your star in their name?”

Elu nodded, too moved to talk properly.

“No crown this time.” he managed to rasp.

“No crown.” Mablung suddenly laughed. “Why is it that I seem to mourn that fact more than you?”

“Because I am relieved, to be completely honest. I think I feel free for the first time in my  entire life. I was always a little bitter about it. Born a prince, born to one day rule. I wonder if that was all everyone saw, what Enel saw when my parents presented him with me. Did he bless me, or the person I was supposed to become? A boy, right? An heir to the ancient line, a reason to rejoice before he had even seen me. I never strived to be loved by everyone, but… but if loved, I wanted to be loved for who I am, not for what I was born.”

Elu had talked himself into angry tears, leaving Mablung to wonder how long he had locked those feelings in his heart.

"Olwë should have been the firstborn, he is -and always was- so much better at all that.”

Mablung graced Elu’s brow slightly.

“It’s alright. Your family loves you for who you are and Melian and I love you for who you are- even if it always moved something in me to call you my king. But you be you now, you earned that. Still a circlet you will wear- I will make you wear one, and if it is one of flowers.”

“I am king no more, Mablung.”

“But you were. You said you needed to know who you are. Then you cannot deny who you were.”

Again Mablung caressed Elu’s face, tracing his jawline and the tips of his ears.

“Let us get ready for the night. I am exhausted, and you must be, too. I remember those first days and weeks after returning from Mandos to be tiring to say the least. Uh, the not remembering. I found that the worst.”

“What do you mean?”

Mablung frowned slightly.

“When I was released from the Halls, all was… strange. I could remember my past life, but it seemed then to be so far away, like a dream I once had. Obviously I could not recall my time in Mandos, though that was not blank either. But surely you must feel the same? Everyone I know who’s been re-embodied does.”

“I do remember Mandos. Quite clearly.”

For a moment, Mablung just felt utterly stunned. Then he chuckled.

“Honestly, you can’t do anything like a normal elf, can you?”

Elu grinned wryly and shrugged, but he still remained sitting with his arms around his knees. Mablung let him be, and rid himself instead of his clothes before lying down on the soft moss. It was a marvellous thing, really, how here in Lórien there would be no moisture creeping up from the earth, not like it had been in Ennor. Instead, the undergrowth seemed to be welcoming a weary traveller, eager to make a bed for them, for a while.