#elu writing

[aotearoa20]

“What troubles you?”

Elwë stared at the spaces between the stars as he lay in the quiet glade. His love is a shadow, dancing around the ripples of his fëa. He could feel his discomfort running between her fingers.

“I’m so happy” he said, mouth open but without words. It was the truth and made it difficult to discern his discontentment.

“I’m so glad.”

She was tangled in the meadowsweet in his hair and singing of things unthinkable. In her voice he saw impossible themes and colours.

“I… I want to tell someone.”

He thought that he must. He was so full of wonder he though he would break.

“You just did.”

The Maia giggled and the trees about them shiver and shook golden seeds onto the ground. Elwë doesn’t think he’s ever heard so sweet a sound.

Though he still smiled, his brow began to furrow in thought. Melyanna hummed in displeasure bringing a hand into being to smooth down the lines on his face.

“No, someone - ” He grimaced as his tongue became dry and heavy in his mouth, “someone else”

He blinked and tried to sit up. The flowers in his hair and along his arms tugged idly at him but released him nonetheless. Melyanna hummed again, a question in her melody.

Yes. Someone else. That made sense. There were others out there in the world. Others, that weren’t him or his beloved. Elwë shook his head. It wasn’t not a bad thing, for there to be others. So why did it fill him with dread?

“You are upset.”

A breeze, warm enough to feel as arms draped over his shoulders, and a kiss pressed on his cheek and Elwë was lost again in the heady joy of being loved. He fell back and the flowers reached out to soften his fall.

But the thought would not leave him entirely, bubbling forth as he stooped over the stream. This was too much happiness to keep to himself, he longed to tell someone.

He though he caught sight in the water of a reflection not his own. Though silver was its hair, as his, and its eyes were blue, as his, and deep as… water, deep water. But the face was rounder and the turn of his mouth though different, no less joyful. A strange longing tugged at his heart. He leaned down, desperation like he’d never known drawing him closer.

But the vision was gone and the name on his lips turned to smoke before he could call for its return.

A cloud of nightgales dragged from the bank, singing and tugging him playful into a dance. And he tried to follow along with them, with her, as he always had but today he couldn’t concentrate. Something weighed heavy on his mind and the steps seemed far too fast. He stumbled to a halt.

“Elwë?” His lover called.

The voice tugged at the darkness of his thoughts, trying to pull him free of it but in the echo he heard another. He gasped staggering back into the trunk of a tree that bent to hold him in its embrace.

“Elwë?”

He shuddered as he caught sight of a vision. The same ner from the stream. And before him, in between them both, another with hair dark and thick. He couldn’t see the new stranger’s face but he can see the way Olwë shakes his head. The grief that coloured his features.

“No!” Elwë cried, reaching out to his friend with dark hair. Whose laugh didn’t echo with the sound of fallen leaves. Whose questions used to drive him insane and now pulled him to the brink of madness.

A bough bent over. It’s knots were twisted into something resembling a face. His eyes flicked to it unbidden and the vision was gone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost something,” he whispered, “I must find him”

“What have you lost my love?”

Elwë feels tears prick in his eyes. The rough bark that holds him doesn’t seem so safe anymore. But his fear seems only to make the branches wrap around him all the tighter

“I have eyes all across this forest, my light,” And for a split second he saw them. Silver eyes cracking open across root and leaf. Upon the wings of the nightingales still singing above him and upon his own being arms and face and his eyes themselves. He choked on a gasp but his lover continued in earnest, “What is it? If it is here I would find it for you.”

He pushed the crawling branches desperate to get away. They part easily under his hands but then grass begins to curl around his feet. He glances around wildly but the river only ever sang Her songs and the stone would grow warm under his touch at Her command.

He runs.

Where? Where can he go. It’s been so long. How long? He can’t remember the way out. The forest reached for him. Roots curled up to trip him. He dodged them deftly it but it slows him down and he’s already so late. Too late. Oh Stars, how long has he been here!?

He is caught under the willow tree.

Too slow. The thin branches entwined themselves and wrapped around his arms. He shouted as he is wrenched for the ground, struggling in the air long after he knew it was hopeless.

“No,” he shouted, “No, let me go! He is gone… Finwë, where is he… I came looking for him… Where… how long have I been here?”

The last words came out in a horrible sob. A hand reached up, and of, the ground to wipe away his tears and smear dirty tracks of earth over his face. It just made him weep all the more.

A low whine trembled all around him. It breaks the heart of all the birds and beasts that hear it. Then it breaks his own without his leave.

“What have you done to me?”

“Nothing…” Her voice was distraught, “I… I don’t understand. Why are you crying?”

“I have to go!”

“No!”

“You are hurting me,” he grimaced as the branches around his wrist tighten and she gasped

“No no no,” she murmured and he is released immediately, earthen arms coming up to soothe the angry red marks. They are healed even as he rubbed of the mud.

“You are so fragile,” the leaves whispered.

He didn’t answer, The willow branches are draped around, anchored in the ground around him like a cage. He couldn’t run, so he just remained kneeling as he was. Quivering in unison with the leaves.

“I love you,” The ground is damp. She sounded so sad, “Why are you running from me? Why are you afraid?”

How he wished he could see her face. If he could perhaps he could know if she was genuine. But the last time he did he could not look away until his eyes burnt like glass. She had hidden such thoughts, for they hurt him. She had not shown herself since they were released. Now he could not say for sure he knew what she looked like at all.

“You know me,” she insisted, “I love you!”

And the words echoed around his head until he’s dizzy. I love you. I love you. I love you. He could drown in that love and a part of him wants to. But he can’t.

“Why? I know you love me also. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen your fëa. Why do you want to leave me?”

“I love you.” he whispers the words, as they become truth in the air between them. “But it’s not in my nature to love only one thing. I have brothers whom I love, they were given to me I need them. And people also who followed me. I abandoned them, how could I do that?”

“You are beautiful.”

He looks up sharply at the silver eyes in the willow bark.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he said

“You do not know what I want.”

He pressed his lips together. He speaks as she does. As she had taught him, with feelings and visions he shows her a creature with his face. Lying in bed of poppy and meadowsweet. So full of someone else’s affection with he was barely a person anymore.

The ground rumbled beneath him in irritation but he wasn’t afraid. When she speaks she does so with words. The words of his own people, he’d long forgotten to use. The sound clunky in his ears but he listens.

“You came to me and loved me. I only ever took what you gave me and you gave me everything. I thought that was how your people loved so I did the same.”

“It isn’t.” He replied, he tries to cast his mind back to that day. Melyanna gave him back what he asks for even though the memory makes him flinch, “You… you are not of my people, you deserved more, I tried to give you more but…” he hung his head with a shame she could not fathom, “it is too much. I can’t give you all the love you deserve, I can’t give you everything. Love already I have given to others and that I abandoned them does me shame.”

“Don’t be angry”

“I am not angry at you.”

“There’s no one else here,” she said with genuine confusion.

He lookec up at her, an impossible smile on his face. She is strange. So strange and why should she not be. A being of such power and wisdom and beauty. Who is he that she should try to love him.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he said again.

“You do not know what I want.”

“Then tell me, my Lady. What do you want?”

For a moment there is absolute silence.

“Whatever you are willing to give me,” she said with a certainty he couldn’t help dismissing, “Whatever is good and natural for you to give. I want nothing more. Only… only do not leave me entirely.”

“Lady…”

“You don’t believe me.”

He could not speak, not to lie to her.

She hummed once more and the branches pick up and reach for him. He closed his eyes as they brushed over, little green leave tracing ever part of him. He was not scared anymore.

There is an almighty crash. Lighting, bright enough to flash behind his eyes crackled against the willow tree, leaving the tangy scent of wood smoke.

He stumbled back from where the trunk of the tree has split in half. What he doesn’t expect is the head of a woman to peer over the splintered wood.

She is tall and stepped unsteady over the burnt branches. Her hair flowed about her head as though she was walking through water and stars are entangled in it. Her eyes were as stars also, almost to bright to look upon. Almost.

She glanced down, spinning in a slow circle. Satisfied with her work she nods and turns back to him.

“What have you done?” he asked his heart full of both terror and awe.

“I want you to be able to look at me.” Melyanna smiled, blood rushing to her face and tinting her cheeks gold. “I want you to look me in the eye before you tell me no.”

Blinking he looked her over. His lover, elven in form. He can almost recognise her and he shook his head, angry again.

“You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldnt have lessened yourself, not for anyone. Least of all me.”

“Say not lessened,” she frown and Stars have mercy, it was a delightful look upon her new face, “Say changed for I have changed for you. As you have for me”

He shook his head.

He didnt see how he had grown. He didnt notice yet the pale spiderthread marks her vines had left on his dark skin. He didnt realise how his eyes saw song the way none of his kindred ever had or ever would. How his hair shone with a light unlike the stars, a shimmering silver mantle.

But he would. When he was back among his own people. Then he would understand.

“Trust me,” she whispered ,just until then, she took a tentative step towards him.

He looks at her as if seeing her anew. And falling for her all over but it’s different this time.

“Take me with you?” she asked

And he saw the question for what it always was. A question and not an order. She would not force him to stay, she did not want to.

“Why?”

“I love you.”

And suddenly it doesn’t sound like a threat. He dares to step closer. She reaches up with fingers They sparked as they brush against the side of his cheek. He would not have been able to bear it before but now he rests against her touch.

He looks up fully into her face, leaning in ever so gently before pressing his lips onto hers. He had never done so before. And neither had she but they fit together so perfectly. Only once does he pull away

“Come home with me,” he breathed.

She smiled triumphant and leans back into his embrace.

[ceno8yte]

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

[maa-riiee]

"no proof, one touch, but you felt enough"

[kitcat22]

Dark Melian au part 2

Aredhel glares at the monster before her, snarling as he stares back unflinchingly.

He is very good at that, she has discovered, making himself seem unbothered and collected. His pale face is still and well carved as one of her Aunt’s statues, a faint smile on his face. Aredhel is not fooled however, she is well acquainted with the mannerisms of sly politicians and egotistical lords from her childhood in her grandfather’s court. She know how to pick the signs of annoyance from his face and movements.

She is pleased that she irks him so.

He speaks again in that deep pretentious voice of his.

‘Will you not attend lunch with me my lady wife? My mother had such little chance to meet you at the wedding what with having to manage my father and many weeks have passed since then, she is ever so eager to see you.’

Wife

The word made Aredhel’s stomach roll in disgust. It was never a word she had wished to have any claim to, much to her parent’s initial dismay. When the haziness that had consumed her mind from whatever magic was contained in this forest had finally faded Aredhel had been left in horror. To be married against one’s will was an unthinkable crime, her only reprieve came in the fact he had not laid with her yet. Their marriage was only one in ceremony, their fea were unbound and separate as they should be. This confused her slightly, why bother with the ceremony at all if he wasn’t going to follow through.

Still, she counted her blessings.

Her memory of the events leading her to now where blurred and distorted. She remembered walking through through the forest deeper and deeper until up seemed like down and forwards like backwards. She remembered her dark stranger of a husband looming over her as she lay weary on the forest floor. She remembered the event that had been her wedding only as dazzling lights and strange foreign people. Maia, she had realised later, there was hundreds of them with colorful skin and hair, flowing clothes and painted faces. To see so many in one place was unusual. Everything about her situation was unusual.

He was still staring at her, waiting on a response

She ground her teeth together, lips prim and bloodless. She did not wish to give him the satisfaction of an easy agreement.

‘Well?’ He said, still smiling that patronising smile.

‘Your mother wishes to know me but i have little desire to meet her. Tell me is she as corrupt and immoral as you?’

His smile widened ‘more so, i would argue, its what makes family dinners so interesting’

She said nothing hands curled into fists at her side with the rage at his amusement. How dare he be so happy after confining her so. How dare he. There was no point trying to attack him though. She had learned that in the weeks past. Every time she tried, to punch him, or scratch him or to tackle him this force stopped her. Her husband was a powerful being it seemed. She had thought at first he was a maia but couldn’t understand why he would marry her if he was. Maia and elves were of separate kindreds and there had never been any crossover. She could not understand why an elf would be among so many maia either though. Whatever he was he was well skilled in the art of magic.

He continued on ‘my father will be there also, by his own insistence. My mother is wary of letting him loose from his cage but it has been a long time since he has shown as much interest in anything as he has you’

‘Am I really so interesting to them, their son’s newest slave?’

‘My mother’s interest no doubt lies in figuring out how to best manipulate and use you against me. My father’s interest is of a more personal note. It has been many millennia since he has meet another of the eldar.’

‘So you are an elf then. I thought…’

‘That i was a maia?’ His eyes twinkled ‘An easy mistake to make, as i am partially. My mother is a maia by the name of Melian and she is queen here in Nan Elmoth. My father is of the elven kind and goes by the name Elwe.’

Now that came as a shock.

‘You jest surely!?’

Both names were deeply familiar to her. Melian she recognised as the sindarinized version of Melyanna who had been a servant to Yavanna and later a follower of Melkor. Some maiar she had met as follower of Orome had spoken of Melyanna as cunning and ambitious, a traitor to their kind.

Elwe on the other hand was the more suprising. A haunting figure in elvish history, Elwe’s disappearance had always been the source of much grief in Aman. A brave leader and explorer lost to the darkness of middle earth. Once when she was small she had walked with her grandfather, hand in hand, down the the palace’s hall of tapestries. With a quiet voice and a sad look on his face, Finwe had introduced her to the tapestry of an ellon dressed in ancient clothing with long silver hair and a bright smile. Elwe Singollo she knew had been on his way to visit the visit her grandfather when he had disappeared into the sprawling forests, never to be seen again. ‘Taken’ the people had whispered when her grandparents could not hear ‘stolen away by the dark lord to be remade like those before him’. This had been his presumed fate for thousands upon thousands of years, the reason why Olwe had been so cold when meeting Mekor and her grandfather and Ingwe so uncharacteristically unsure. Yet here this beast of an ellon claimed…

She looked into his pale silver eyes. Eyes that matched her grandfather’s tapestry almost exactly.

She loosened her fists and dropped her defensive pose into something more dignified and stately.

‘Yes. I shall attend lunch with you’

She had much investigating to do after all.

[and-the-stars-collided]

The First Elves as Aesthetics:

Finwë  —  grey skies, pine trees, stag's antlers, gritted teeth, piles of firewood, howling winds, lace table cloths, black ponds slick with ice, cautious, likes to plan, whispered confessions onto the autumn wind, the sharpness and cutting edge of a cold breeze, the glint of a metal blade, the bright teal of a midday ocean and the blackness of wild volcanic beaches, strong and independent, black hair, often staring into space, autumn mornings, braiding hair, love ballads, smiling fondly, lying by a small creek, falling in love when you shouldn't, starlit nights, regret, bittersweet kisses, being left wanting more.

Míriel  —  memories of past lovers, withering flowers, polished gravestones, being young and naive, gathering flowers and seeds, uncut gemstones, the gleam of a single tear falling, the silver reflection of the moon mirrored on the surface of a pond, an absence of sound, morning mist, hazy eyes, uncertain smiles, subtle exchanged glances, rich tapestries, tears streaming down their face, shattered promises, a not-quite persistent yearning, shaky breaths, moonlit rows, nimble hands, dancing to music playing softly in the distance, trusting the secrets of the night, waking up anew with determination.

Indis  —  warm tea, comfortable silence, soft eyes, messy hair, golden clouds, the sound of rain, a heart traced onto fogged up windows, yellow clothes on the days where the sun seems to have left forever, waking up to tear-stained sheets and feeling a little bit lighter, hopscotch in puddles, love at first sight, soft forehead kisses, secretly insecure, easily mistaken for the bad guy, wants the best for others, lost in thought, star gazing, always wearing some sort of shimmery nail polish, flowing dresses, wavy hair, the peace maker, the one to be called when something very specific is needed, butterflies, sparkling eyes, second chances.

Ingwë  —  bare feet on warm summer dirt, flower crowns slipping off heads after being flung back with laughter, mugs of too-sweet tea, sweet kisses, heart-wrenching poetry, pressed flowers, long hugs, warm and hazy afternoons, singing old songs, sunflowers, laughing till your chest hurts, bathing in sunlight, has the brightest smile ever seen, dried paint on their clothes, headbands and scrunches, fresh pancakes in the morning, stubborn but quick to learn, wanting to be on time and always a few minutes late, an artist's way of thinking, a journey of discovering one's passion.

Ilwen  —  the feeling of walking barefoot, inhaling the salty smell of the sea, forgetting about everything else but the fact that you are alive in that exact moment in the universe, grapes and oranges, the refreshing feeling of laying on the cold sand, complex architecture, busy markets filled with noises, the light swaying of a ship, sun-kissed skin, the smell of freshly baked bread at sunrise, drinking coffee under the warm morning sun, linen sheets, home-made jam, caring touches and warm smiles, looking for a shape in every cloud going by, simply enjoying the scenery, watches butterflies, drowsy days. 

Ingwion  —  dark brown eyes, apple cider, thunder, creaking doors, owning up to rare losses, not accepting the path already created, confidently moving, staying in the deep end of a pool, reserved laughter, reckless, somehow manages to stumble into opportunities whenever they need them, quite the expert at falling out of love, will not worry unnecessarily, not taking the word of strangers seriously, seems warm but surprisingly coldblooded, deadpan jokes, sees everything but speaks rarely, dark under-eyes, loves stormy nights, punches and bruised knuckles, surprises and laughter, long empty hallways, tight hugs.

Thingol  —  regal, attempting to remain calm while in pain, silver moonlight, a thin pane of glass between you and society, luminescence, corrupted kings, forced smiles, too much ambition, protective of their family, falling through the sky, sharp collar bones, lip biting, purposeful words spoken with a sharp tongue, black coffee, dangerously flashing eyes, dripping false smiles, talking to people they have never met before aggressively, not held back by wanting to be in control, hoping for your demise, viciously smiling at others innocence, craving to turn the knife in the wound, perfectionism.

Olwë  —  begging to fly, pebbles thrown into the sea, rain falling against your face, not knowing if you are alive or dead, fingers tracing the petals of a wilting flower, rejoicing in storms, losing reality, staring at the horizon, deep conversations, knowing looks, rather standing shoulder to shoulder with one of their own than with an outsider, living a solitary life, sleeping on the ground, carving their name into rocks, crashed and wrecked boats, smoke signals, a fear of confrontation, bruised knuckles, patiently waiting for their enemies unhappy ending, pretty smile concealing a savage nature, bad manners sometimes.

Elmo  —  faded sunsets, running wild in the mountains and plains, kissing their lover in uninterrupted nature, dim lights, diving deep into the ocean, heartbeat pounding against your chest, flowers blooming slowly, feeling like you were made for another world, flowers growing in your heart, the accidental brush of fingers with your lover, nervously running one hand through your hair, red cheeks, tenderness, falling in love with someone you don't even know yet, pink clouds, nervous fiddling, notebook pages full of rambling, moonlight, rainy days, dreamy eyes, healing people you love, curiosity, old folklore.

[superloves4]

Elwë/Finwë/Miriel moodboard

[steampunkedemon]

elu || stargazing

[koyunsoncizeri]

Thingol presenting you his new human. Yes, he promises to take care of her and go for walks.

[if-music-be-the-food-of-love]

I Want One 

A SKAM France pet store au by Beulaugh. 

Lucas, Eliott, Daphné, and Basile work at a pet store, and they get a surprise delivery. Rated G. 1k

Written for BeanAwake for the SKAM Secret Santa 2022 collection. Go check out the other fics, and more are on the way!

[ladysternchen]

Betrayal- Annoyed

Prompt #3, Medium: Against the Odds. Let your character experience a setback. Once you begin creating about the setback, you can open the next prompt.

In hindsight, Lúthien thought that she might have known that her plan would not work out. After all, things like that never had worked out even in childhood, she mused, again realising how often she had been in a situation such as this back then. However much her parents had promised not to get angry if only Lúthien were to tell the truth, they always had, anyway. The same had held true for Daeron’s parents, and Galadhon and his wife. So really, she might have known better from the start. True, her father had not strictly speaking broken his promise to her (at least not yet), but still she cursed him into Angband itself as she learned in the morning that he had made his men search for Beren and capture him, to be brought before the thrones. Daeron, her father… who else would betray her trust ere this matter was settled? She would not, however, be the Princess of Doriath if she couldn’t do some quick thinking- so she forestalled the guards that were leading Beren to Menegroth as a captive and took his hand, pressing it firmly. His palms were wet, and Lúthien felt the turmoil of his soul. “It will be alright!” she assured him, leading him before her parents, well aware that all of Menegroth seemed to be assembled in the Hall. Lúthien first looked at her mother, who sat upon her throne silently, no clue to her feelings showing on her fair face. But as their eyes met, Lúthien perceived her mother’s thoughts, and knew that Melian was truly biting back laughter.  Silly Maia! Lúthien called her in her thoughts, not bothered at all whether her mother would actually be aware of what she was thinking. But then she looked on to her father, and for the very first time in all the millennia of her life, she was somewhat cowed by him, for it seemed to her that she stood not before the father she loved but only before her King as a wrongdoer. Lúthien shook the feeling off quickly and hoped with all her might that Beren, who was by now quaking with fear, would do the same and get a grip. They had no margins for error in this. 

She noticed her very own error too late. Upon setting foot in the Hall, playing along the lines of yesterday’s conversation had seemed prudent, but even as she spoke, praising Beren’s deeds, she realised how weak she had made her own position. Behave like a child and you’ll be treated like a child, she chided herself, but the damage was already done. This time when she looked into her parents’ faces, she got no clue as to what either of them were thinking, but her heart leapt a little when her father bade her let Beren speak for himself. If he did not make the same mistake as she had, they might still stand a chance to end this to everyones satisfaction. Well, almost everyone’s. The next moment, however she would have loved to kick Beren in the shins, or else a bit higher up, she thought savagely. He had obviously got his courage back, but now he so grandiosely overdid it that Lúthien groaned inwardly. And of course her father rose to the bait. Lúthien would gladly have buried her face in her hand and denied that she ever had anything to do with either of them. Males! she thought. Males of any race. Need they all be so idiotic?  She wasn’t even truly shocked when her father named a Silmaril as her bride-price, was even somewhat relieved. Yes, Beren in his pride had of course set out to fulfil his oath, but even he must know this was ridiculous, just like her father knew. She would let tempers cool a bit, then set out to get all their heads on the right way again, and hopefully, they would all be able to settle the matter without anyone getting harmed. 

[aotearoa20]

“I do not deserve you.”

Melian turned to her husband, sitting of the new bed of the palace they had been building for the past decade. It is not often he speaks so quiet, nor seems so small.

“I could create the greatest kingdom in all of Elvenesse and would not be worthy you. I can’t give you what you deserve”

She sighs, though her smile is fond. When she wanders to the window he follows her. Outside his people, theirs, she reminds herself with joy in her heart, sit in the great courtyard. They sing and laugh, rejoicing in the twilight of the work their hands had built. The city grows more beautiful each passing day.

But when she turns to her husband there is only discontent on his face.

“You deserve the light of Aman,” she says, studying how his brow furrows ever so slightly, “You deserve Arda as it was unmarred before Melkor. At the very least the safety and joy of the Valinor. And yet that way is closed to you now.”

Because of me. She doesn’t say the words but they linger in air between them. He looks as though he would to protest but she shakes her head. Speaking in the way of her people, without words. When he is satisfied she continues.

“If it was offered to you now? Would you leave these shores?”

He blinks, glancing to the city below. His expression softens as he looks across it.

“No.” He says at last, “This is my home. I- ”

“I am happy here.” She steals his words and makes them her own

His eyes widen as she smiles. He looks upon her in wonder, would that he knew how often she did the same.

“Do you understand, my love?”

“I… I am trying”

She hums softly and the wind sings with her, pulling at the hair of the King so that it flickers in silver waves. Her laughs fills the air about them with unbridled joy as she brushes it out of his, too solemn, face.

“And I am patient,” she replies

“I love you.”

Melian answers in the way of the Firstborn, pressing her lips against his and pulling him into her embrace. Outside the birds sang and the people of Thingol cheered, teasing and joyful as they watched their King on the balcony above.

[arofili]

Star-dusk

Star-dusk, he named his home, with reverence and care. And in its woods he heard the nightingales singing, singing, singing, and saw her, and loved her.

a gift for @sallysavestheday as part of @lotr-sesa 2022!

Rating: M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Eöl/Melian, Melian/Thingol, Eöl/Aredhel Characters: Eöl, Melian, Thingol, Aredhel, Nan Elmoth Word count: 1.3k

READ IT ON AO3!

[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

[kitcat22]

In my dark melian au Olwe and the teleri probably have to deal with a lot more guilt. In the canon verse Olwe at some point finds out his brother didnt die thousands of years ago and instead went on to live a long and relatively happy life if you forget about the dead daughter thing and the whole got murdered because of his own actions. In this au Olwe has to deal with the knowledge that he left his (older? Probably older) brother in a kind of forced marriage to a women he had a love/hate/resent/rely upon relationship which could probably be considered emotionally psychologically/abusive due to the whole kidnapping, not allowed to leave or see family thing . The reunion would be emotional to say the least…

[a-funeral-pyre]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47609365 

So I did a little thing

[lapetiteceinturesworld]

Hello, Skam France fans! I need your help. I need one or more beta readers who know and love the characters of Lucas and Eliott and are closely connected to the third season of the series. I'm in the middle of rewriting a fanfiction about them, and I need feedback and outside opinions. First of all, it's AU fanfiction, it's set in college, Lucas and Eliott have been best friends since high school, and the day his boyfriend broke up with Lucas, he asks Eliott if he can come over and that night everything between them changes. If anyone is interested, please contact me! 😘