#fingon x reader x maedhros

[doodle-pops]

Game Set Match

Fingon x reader x Maedhros

Kinktober 2022: Threesome

Requests: Hi! I love your account! I wish I could write like you tbh lol. Could you possibly do a threesome between fingon, maedhros, and the reader? Maybe they’re competing against each other. Like she’s watching them train and they’re trying to impress her and it goes from there? Please let me know if I need to be more specific. I hope you have a nice day!! - anon

A/N: Thank you for the description, it helped a lot to set the mood, and my day is going pretty okay. A little bit stressed out because of midterms, but alright. Hope you're having a better day than me🌺. I enjoyed writing this more than I should.

Warnings: fembod, threesome, dom-sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), cunnilingus, dom! Fingon, dom! Maedhros, overstimulation, mentions of creampies and multiple orgasms, Maedhros being a bit mean and possessive

Word Count: 4.4k

Synopsis: Fingon and Maedhros couldn't help but grow competitive with their swordsmanship skills and decide to let you be their judge.

Your legs were cramping and burning from the long hours your body was contorting. You felt like an acrobat from all the confusing and complicated positions you were rearranged. One minute on your back with your legs wrapped around their waist, and the next thing you know, your legs travelled to the crook of their elbows to over their shoulder and dangled near your ears. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d fall to your knees momentarily before being sent into the most painful arches of them all. Hands flopped at your sides, head buried into the bed or the carpet depending on their mood, and your voice diminished with every passing second. You didn’t know how you were able to pull these positions off, but at any given minute, you’d be contorted into a pretzel and neither of them seemed to mind. This was their little game, and you, after all, agreed to be their judge. One had to come out on top, so any form of overachievement was going to be considered.

“Come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that. You can’t be that tired. You barely did any work, after all, it was us,” being ridiculed by the least expected person in the room who was proclaimed to be a sweetheart was the epitome of underestimation.

Sitting in the lap of Fingon, Crown Prince of the Noldor, who bore a ridiculous smirk plastered across his face while he rocked back into the sofa, manspreading, aggravated you to the core. Hands resting behind his head, he sunk himself deeper into the sofa, he watched you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to sink your soaked cunt into his cock. Standing tall before you and smearing both yours and his cum across your abdomen, his cock bobbled and twitched as it awaited your movements. He sat there patiently with a pretty smile on his face knowing that whether you chose to hop on his cock or not, he’d still fold you into the sofa as promised. Fingon was simply deciding to play nice and let you have a chance to do things at your pace.

He was so cruel, you and probably everyone else before you was caught up in his candy-laced smiles and voice to notice that they masked the diabolical person he was underneath. The grip he held on your waist that tugged you into his body with an absolute refusal to let you go so easily – not when you were proving to take what he gave so delightfully – was an icy burn. The flames from his breathing upon your neck and ear weren’t doing much either, it was just driving you past sanity.

You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation of sinking your abused cunt onto his cock. His red-headed cousin who laid on the bed, patiently stroking his cock and waiting for you to get started had a ball of a time turning you into a pretzel, and with only one hand. The mastery he had over you short-circuited your brain after he had picked you up and easily bounced you on his cock. He didn’t even stop at one round, he had you back to back. You didn’t even know if it was worst or best of all when his cousin invited him to sandwich you between them both. The heaviness and heat of their hands as they twisted and bent you to their liking for maximum pleasure had caused your brain to lose all senses. You couldn’t tell when they were finished, or how many rounds they took you for, all you knew was that the excess volume of cum spilling out told you many.

Gulping at the replayed memories, you glanced down at his cock after spending minutes sucking him off and watched as it glistened under the light cast by the fireplace. Your right hand reached out to grip him firmly at the base while the other rested on his shoulder to brace your body as you raised up to welcome him into your cunt. There was no build-up or easing ceremony as you sat upon his cock, he glided with grace through your gummy walls and nestled deeply against your soft spot. But Fingon was impatient and refused to wait things out, he couldn’t stand your timely manner since he had a performance to put on. With a quick shuffle of his feet, while his hands rose to wrap around your waist, he rotated his body to plant yours into the sofa and drive his cock deeper. Your legs went sky-high as they once again rested on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, ngh,” the temptatious drag of Fingon’s cock against your walls as he decided to move, made your head spin. You were experiencing both heaven and hell and were confused about where you wished to stay.

“I appreciate your wish to take things slow darling, but how about another time,” his voice was strained as his hips slapped against yours, driving himself deeper with every thrust. An experienced twist of his hips and his tip grazed your soft spot earning both him and Maedhros a wail. The calculative and dangerous rolls of his hip, the dark gleam in his eyes and the rich honey words that toppled from his lips spiralled you into a frenzy. The prince was just as dangerous as his glittering-gold cousin.

Maedhros lay there, twisting and pumping his cock as he listened to the slapping of skin on skin and your moans. They were the best sounds he’d ever heard since he left that prison. You were shaping up to be an excellent performer more than a judge and he was questioning if he were to continue to have you for himself after this was over. Your skills were impressive and your ability to take him whole, loving the tight fit you welcomed him with, was otherworldly. The greedy Feanorian wanted you for himself and couldn’t help but wish to pry you from his cousin’s hands as he pummelled into your drenched heat. From where Maedhros sat, he could hear the sloppy impact of his cousin’s cock against your heat.

Dragging himself off the bed, he trudged over to sit on the upper portion of the sofa and watched your eyes crossed before rolling into your head. Touché, his younger cousin wasn’t as bad as he assumed him to be, despite having seen him in action earlier, Maedhros still had his doubts about Fingon and his skills. After all, the whole point of this session was to see who the better performer was. Nothing says dragging a random maiden off a bench to contort in a multitude of positions and have then her decide whose skills were better after a heated sparring match was the best idea. It was the best idea, to mostly blow steam off but neither expected to be this deep. The whole showing off each other’s skills was still there, but something else was bubbling into the mix, possessiveness, jealousy, competition?

“Why don’t you turn her around for me cousin?”

With a flash of his eyes upwards, followed by a nod, Fingon slid himself out of your cunt and laughed as your whines filled the room while he repositioned you onto your hands and knees. At least you were going to remain upright in this position and not sloppy fucked into the cushions. Towering above, you craned your neck to take in the gorgeous redhead and all he had to offer. You know you’ve heard many say it and you’d join them as well; he was crafted by the Gods and was literal perfection. At first, you expected him to be covered in scars, but when his clothes first hit the floor, all negativity had flown from your mind. You didn’t even stop the first escape of drool past your lips.

“You look pleased, would be a shame if you couldn’t decide on a winner, hmm,” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, knowing very well that you weren’t going to be able to decide on which was performing better. Maedhros wasn’t a fool when it came to the whispers about the pleasure that came from the members of the House of Finwe. Many spoke based on what they assumed, and others spoke on their experience. No one had once ever second-guessed the princes’ abilities and only praises came their way, thus, you weren’t leaving this room with a final answer in mind but a desire for more from them.

The embodiment of perfection stood above you with his cock in hand, furious at the tip and swollen with his beads of precum escaping. Instinctively, your mouth opened to take him in and Maedhros didn’t waste a second weaving his hand in your hair and guiding your mouth to his awaiting cock. The echoes of hisses that flooded the room comprised his swears and groans as your wet cavern swallowed as much as you could before attempting to force the rest down your throat. His hips buckled wildly once he felt himself graze the back of your throat, but his hand gripped your head firmly and held you there. The little pulsation his cock was giving off as he remained lodged in your throat tickled. His lean taunt abs tightened the longer he held your mouth on his cock, enjoying the choking sounds and the tightening of your throat as your stomach lurched.

You had to say your prayers to Fingon for his actions, otherwise, Maedhros would have kept you suffocating on his cock. The prince had repositioned himself behind you, cock in hand and ran it up and down your fold, literally writing and signing his name across your cunt in cursive before giving a final tap to your clit as a full stop. It wasn’t until his left hand bound itself in your hair, ripping you out of Maedhros grasp, to steady himself as he slipped in one go, you exhaled a breath of relief only to have it knocked out your chest again. His cousin wasn’t entirely pleased with the interruption of his pleasure, but Fingon was keen on keeping you alive and not killing you.

“Why’d you do that?” growled Maedhros.

Tearing his focus away from your lips gripping his cock, Fingon cast a dark look at his cousin before warning, “She's here to warm our cocks, not be killed by it…literally. Try not to get too lost in the pleasure cousin, Lady Y/N is not her. Our Lady can only take so much.”

You were too lost in catching your breath to realize the dispute going on between them. Wheezing a silent thank you to Prince Fingon for his mercies, you had to shut your eyes as his hips movement grew in anger. He was scrambling your insides with his powerful thrusts and bruising you. From the looks of things, everything was probably turned into mush. His emotions were getting the better of him as he continued to stare his cousin down with a look of confrontation. It's funny how this entire set-up started as a competition and now, it had truly escalated to be one. One wanted to have some level of sympathy even when fucking the life out of you, while the other wished to put his pleasure on the line and not care about your safety in some way.

Smirking at his enthusiastic and younger carefree cousin, Maedhros took the warning and backed off with his hands raised. Silently testing the waters, his left hand returned to your head and attempted to pry it out of Fingon’s grip to guide it to his impatient cock. With success, he was able to have your lips attached to his tip, sucking it like candy. He wanted to force your head down the rest but with his younger cousin eyeing him like a hawk, he left you to your own devices and prayed that you’d swallow him deeper. But perhaps it was his cousin who took pity as he looked on as you sucked his tip and knew he was craving more.

“My dear Lady, do be a dear and put on a good performance for my cousin. You never know if you might impress him,” the hand that was once in your hair and now rested on your shoulder, urged you forward to take his cousin properly. At the instruction, Maedhros snapped his head upwards to meet Fingon’s stare that turned into a playful grin, the right move to lighten the tension. A scoff was returned followed by a shake of his head at his cousin.

The weight of two different hands on your body felt hot and heavy. It burned with an unquenchable fire from deep within and all it did was fuel the feverish feeling you were already experiencing. The fire spread easily across you, from your hips to your chest to your neck and lastly your lips. The venom behind the flames radiated with ease underneath cool and devilish lips and tongue. Sinful smirks etched into your skin as you shivered followed by a deep rumbling from his chest. In one ear and it travelled throughout your body, shaking you to the core. Fingon’s own body had leaned down to press its weight against your back as he pistoned his hips at a new pace and angle. Occasionally wiggling them to earn choked squeals as Maedhros cock was now sliding in and out past your lips.

“You appear to be having a good time Lady Y/N?” the voice of the younger male, garmented in only golden threads in his raven locks and a cynical smile, echoed behind you. His lips rested near your ear, occasionally leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your junction just to watch you fold under his sinful intentions. Two different muscles buried deep within you, one nestled further than the other, and they still made you tumble into chaos.

Saliva was dripping down Maedhros cock, secreting his balls and dribbling on the cushion, and not a care in the world was given. As Fingon’s punishing thrusts were delivered, Maedhros' own hips moved to retaliate and provide pleasure to himself. Both males were lost in ecstasy as their heads were tossed back, their long curls flowing down their backs and swaying with each movement. Being taken on either end by both princes was the epitome of your fantasies and experiencing it up close and personal was jovial. Your arms were struggling to keep yourself up from the incessant thrusting on either end – pushing and pulling. Every time Fingon thrust, you fell deeper onto Maedhros cock, choking in his delight and the smile on his face grew with each gag you released, swelling his ego with urgency to burst.

“You sound so sweet choking on my cock, love,” he proclaimed into the air, as he threw his head back when his thrusts became sporadically signally his oncoming release, and he made no signs of letting you go.

Larger and rougher hands were roaming your body, tracing your spine, groping your ass and breast, and causing tingles to run down your spine. His fleeting touches were driving you mad, it was never too much and never too little, just borderline enough to drive you insane. The sickly richness of his laugh echoed in your mind as he governed your responses to his actions and revelled in them – he enjoyed seeing your struggle to take what they were giving. The heavenly works of his expert hips reeled back in attempts to change the angle of his thrust and missed the widening of your eyes at the action. Pumping his cock past your walls in hopes of rearranging your guts, Fingon laughed at your pathetic response of escaping his devilish thrusts. Leaning down to litter kisses up your sweat-sheened back, his tongue would slip out to lick at your skin. It was Maedhros who was gifted the sight of your eyes crossing and drooping at the actions.

The tears that stained your pretty face had Maedhros hips twitching. The hand in your hair couldn’t help but halt your motions and change the tempo by thrusting into your mouth at a new pace. Brushing his cock against the walls of your mouth, sometimes poking the tip against the skin and thrusting it there, Maedhros was doing a bunch of fiasco with your mouth. He was relishing in the fantasies he was denied for years. Licking his lips before biting them, he looked down to see you gazing up at him with starry eyes and his cock between your lips. Such a pretty sight that he couldn’t help but trail his hand down to stroke your face, smearing the tears across your face. Feeling himself growing closer and closer to his release, he forced himself out of your mouth with a cry as his hands continued to chase his release.

“Mouth open love, wide,” his breathless command sounded hot as it he panted while thrusting his hips into his hands. Opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, Fingon chose the perfect moment to slam his hips into yours prompting you to cross your eyes. All it took was one look at your disposition and Maedhros release squirted out to paint your face white. Falling into your hair and face, some seeping into your mouth, Maedhros loud grunts ricocheted off the walls when your mouth leaned in to suck his tip. “Fucking hell – such a good girl, aren’t you?” taking one of your hands you propped yourself on, you reached out to his cock and slap it against your tongue while pumping him for any remaining cum.

Once he realized that he hadn’t any cum to give you, he pulled himself away and walked over to lie on the bed where he watched as Fingon pushed you face-first into the cushions and wiped off all his cum. Maedhros couldn’t help but grumble at the action, clearly displeased by the lack of appreciation for his artwork. Your moans were increasing as his pace quickened. The curve of his cock was punishing your sweet spot and he knew from the way your body was trembling, you were growing closer. He took the opportunity to press more of his weight atop yours, pinning you into the cushions, not before slipping his hand in between to pinch your clit. Taking you to pound town, the cries that left your lips were making his own cock twitch, but he wasn’t ready to give you up just yet. He wanted to have more fun with you.

“Going to cum again already, the round just had just begun love?” he cried in disbelief, “come on now, don’t tell me I’m fucking you that good?” he whispered the last bit in your ears lowly so his cousin wouldn’t hear. However, it caused a fresh flow of juices to spilt past your cunt and flow onto his cock. Just what he wanted as he chuckled. The squelching was obscenely loud, and they were both relishing in the sounds your cunt was making.

“Ah, uh huh, fuck. I’m close…” wailing into the cushions like a whiney child, you begged for the release you wished he’d just give and stop playing around with.

Eyes darkened with lust, Fingon’s hair cascaded like a waterfall surrounding you both as he deepened his thrusts, pounding you into the sofa. Feeling you shaking in his hold, his rubbing on your clit grew aggressively from rubbing to pinching and slapping your poor nub. Struggling to catch your breath, your nails were digging into the mattress making little tears in the sheets as his pounding made you sing his name. Burying your face into the cushions as your dam was breaking, Fingon’s hand yanked your head backwards to give both him and Maedhros the pleasure of watching your eyes crossed as you came. Your walls spasmed around his, clenching and squeezing the life out of his cock while coating it with your cum.

Not wanting to be overly greedy and have you all to himself, he gave Maedhros a look and beckoned him to come in front. Once Fingon felt your walls easing their grip on his cock, he slid himself free, groaning at missing your heat and dragging himself away to kneel beside your head which was rocked back against the sofa. His cock was in hand as he busied himself with jerking off. Grunting because he knew he was close, his right hand reached out to pull you closer to his cock and allow you to swallow just the tip before his hips spasmed and twitched as his release flooded your mouth. A blissful fuck was whispered as the tension slowly left his body and dissipated. Sitting at your head for a few more seconds, he spent the time patting your head and whispering about how much of a good girl you were for him until Maedhros arrived clearing his throat.

Scoffing at the interruption, Fingon shuffled himself to sit beside you, tugging one of your legs to rest atop his, while the other was pushed aside by Maedhros. His cousin had the perfect view of your glistening folds. Maedhros eyes landed on your slicked cunt still fresh from your orgasm and licked his lips in anticipation of having a taste. You were still spasming in his arms, too high to come back down immediately. Your brain was still attempting to regain its grounds and find its barring. Kneeling between your legs as Fingon held your shaking figure like a sacrificial orifice for his hungry cousin when his hot breath ghosted your sensitive cunt, you were caught off guard.

“Ah, y-your Highness, what are you doing?” stuttering out a response as your hips wiggled away from the oversensitivity, you found no purchase. Two strong arms were securely holding you in place.

“We are far from finished love, we’re only halfway through this round,” the soothing and temptatious words of Fingon waffled in your ear to calm you down.

His muscles twitched as his legs held yours far apart while his gorgeous red-head cousin without hesitation, buried his face in your sensitive cunt, tongue darting out to slither into your entrance with a great thirst to drink your essence. Fighting and wiggling away from the onslaughter, your cries were devoured by Fingon who chose to grip your chin and bring your lips to lock his. His tongue easily slithered past your lips with the gasps you made and wrapped itself around yours, sucking on the muscle. You felt as though your brain had completely shut down at the action. As filthy as it was, it felt so right and as calming as it was to be, it didn’t deter you from the skilful tongue of Maedhros that swirled itself around your nub to suck on it like a pacifier.

“Hmph –”

Loving the way you tasted, Maedhros was finally letting himself go and going berserk on your cunt – he was holding back too much believing that you wouldn’t be comfortable with engaging with him. His mouth, nose and cheeks were all stained with your arousal, and he ate you out like it was his last meal. The animalistic grunts he made as he dragged his tongue from your clit to your entrance, thrusting his tongue in and out your slit, were spinetingling. You felt as if he was writing his name in cursive from the intricate dance he was performing. You shivered at his marvellous strokes, shrieking into the mouth of his cousin who was busy sucking on your tongue and roaming his mischievous hands around your chest. In fact, the hands of both males were roaming your skin, fleeting touches that were too much for your already heightened sensitivity. The tweaking of your nipples to the hand wrapping around your neck and applying pressure, making your head spin to the rough thumb rubbing hastily at your clit. You were losing your senses.

Two heavy hands – an actual hand and wrist – were settled in the crook of your knees, pushing your legs in an obscenely widening position of more than just Maedhros to view. His head was already nestled perfectly between your legs, rolling and shaking from left to right whenever he decided to be cruel with your sensitive nub. Picking you apart by sucking on your clit like a pacifier as if he expected sweet flowing water to burst forth and bless his taste buds – it was his intention. A quick tug and nip and your stomach clenched as your body curled into his sinful touch. His tongue, his presence, his voice, his everything had you feeling delirious. You were surprised that you hadn’t passed out from the first touch he gave to you.

Pulling away from Fingon’s mouth to catch your breath, you cast your eyes and met Maedhros arsenic gaze locked on your reddened face, “Fuck, your Highness. You’re so good.”

Your moans were pleasant to his ears and it was only a few minutes into him diving into his dessert and he already felt your body trembling with the oncoming wave of your second orgasm. Your juices were running excessively, and his mouth was there savouring every drop that leaked from your cunt. Panting and crying both the princes’ names as your orgasm flushed through you, their mouths on your skin making it hard to fight your way through. Your skin was oversensitive, not just your cunt and they wanted to drive you mad, “Too much, it-it’s too much…”

Laughing into your skin, Maedhros couldn’t help but find your statement humorous given that you wanted to be sandwiched between them. Lifting his head from between your legs, lips gleaming in the light, he grinned when he saw your head lulled on Fingon’s shoulder as your chest heaved. One of your hands was clawing at Fingon’s bicep while the other was buried in Maedhros scalp, tugging at his luscious curls. Tenderly prying your hand out of his hair, he knelt closer to your body and cradled you in his arms before hoisting your lightweight body into his embrace.

“Ah, ah, ah, no sleeping love. Wake up, our next round is about to begin.”   

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @someoneinthestars @lilmelily @aconstructofamind @mysticmoomin

Kinktober 🏷: @rain-on-my-umbrella @something-about-twilight @hoshinokurasa @wandererindreams @aconstructofamind

[autumnshighlady]

if i wrote reader insert fics with characters from the Silmarillion would anyone read them?

[batsyforyou]

A Wild Puddle Encounter!

Tags: Puddles, water

Author's Note: So, I went to bed last night and was smacked with this idea. It kept me really entertained so I hope someone gets a giggle out of it, cause I did.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

Would lift you over the puddle, help you over 

Glorfindel, Maglor, Celebrimbor, Beleg, Ecthelion, Thranduil, Gildor, Elrond, Finarfin, Fingolfin, Feanor, Finrod, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Meludir

Would walk through the puddle and tease you about avoiding it 

Celegorm, Beleg, Mablung, Curufin, Feanor, Maeglin, Thranduil, Glorfindel, Fingon, Legolas, Celebrimbor

Would purposely splash the puddle 

Elladan, (me), Celegorm, Curufin (the not fun version), Meludir, Amras, Amrod, Fingon, Legolas

Would take off their cloak and put it over the puddle for you too cross

Finarfin, Fingolfin, Glorfindel, Gil Galad. Eonwe, Irmo, Finrod, Celebrimbor

Would avoid it, walk around

Erestor, Maedhros, Lindir, Curufin, Feanor, Elrohir, Caranthir, Turgon, Caranthir, Maglor

Would notice you avoiding it and make you “Embrace the suck” by making you walk through it

Sauron, Feren, Gildor, Namo, Haldir, 

Could not care it exists and walks straight through 

Eonwe, Celegorm, Mablung, Maedhros, Namo, Ulmo, Beleg, Legolas, Haldir, Eol, Sauron, Ulmo, Celebrimbor,

Would walk through the puddle while complaining or with a grimace on their face

Lindir, Turgon, Caranthir, Elrohir 

Happily splashes the puddle and later complains about their boots being wet

Elladan, Amras, Amrod, (me)

Would challenge it to a fight Pokémon style 

Glorfindel, Celegorm, Beleg, Fingon, Elladan, (me)

masterlist

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine trying to enjoy alone time in a tavern, but then ending up as the local therapist for an elf and his relatives.

Imagine trying to simply enjoy some alone time in a tavern, drinking some beverage, and minding your own business till you meet this one elf and  became regular chat buddies. Now, the relatives of this elf keep coming to the tavern to talk about their problems with you. 

Warnings: reader’s sanity gets tested. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Day 1

Maedhros: *Walks into the tavern, takes a seat, orders a drink, and slams his head against the table*

You: Now that sounds like someone is done with everyday life.

Maedhros: You have no idea. 

You: Which one for you, work or unbearable relatives?

Maedhros: Hmm?

You: Work or unbearable relatives? Sometimes it's the work that tires you out, but sometimes it’s the relatives– who do things that make you tick beyond measure. 

Maedhros: Hmm… both. Why would you like to know?

You: Just filling out boredom. Wanna have a drink? I can pay for you because you look like you need it. 

Maedhros: Well – that is nice of you. I am Maedhros. 

You: (Name)

After a week of meeting with Maedhros to shit talk about family, drink, and send each other off– not to be seen for another week. 

Maedhros: And yet again, I have to clean up after my brothers. 

You: Man, that sucks. 

Maedhros: Indeed. I have to go. It was nice talking to you. 

You: Bye. 

Maedhros: Farewell. 

Maedhros: *Walks out of the tavern after paying the bartender*

You: *Sits in silence, drinking*

Maglor: *Walks in and notices you*

Maglor: Excuse me? Are you (Name)?

You: Uuh – yeah? 

Maglor: I heard about you from my brother, Maedhros. He apparently likes to come here to talk and drink with you. 

You: And you are?

Maglor: I am Maglor.

You: Ah, the one that sings in the morning and never shuts up. 

Maglor: What?

You: Nothing! What do you want? 

Maglor: I will be honest. I need to relieve something out of my chest. And since Maedhros likes talking with you. I have been ha — *talks about his problems with his family*

You: *Staring at him, confused.*

You: Wha –?

Week 2

You: *Trying to enjoy peace after having talk sessions with both Maedhros and Maglor for a week. 

Caranthir: You!

You: Wah! What!

Caranthir: Are you (Name)?

You: uhm – yes? I’m sorry. Did I do something to piss you off?

Caranthir: No. Why would you think that?

You: You look angry. 

Caranthir: Well, I’m not. I am Caranthir. I heard about you from two of my brothers, Maedhros and Maglor. 

You: Oh, the grumpy one and the one that hoards all the gold?

Caranthir: What?

You: Nothing! What can I do for you?

Caranthir: I heard talking with you helps relieve stress and resolve problems. So, let me start –

You: And what if I don’t-

Caranthir: I will only talk about this once, so listen carefully. I am so done with my –*talks about his problems with his brothers and relatives and problems managing the money*

You: What?

Week 4

You: *Groaning while lying your head against the table*

Celegorm: You (Name)?!

You: What? Who — who are you two?!

Celegorm & Curufin: *sits on each side of you that you sat between them*

Celegorm: We belong to the same family as the rest of our dear brothers, who seem to like turning their backs on us in our time of need. 

You: That – doesn’t tell me anything. 

Curufin: His name is Celegorm and I am Curufin. 

You: Oh, The unhinged forest goblin and the cheap copy of dad?

Celegorm & Curufin: What?

You: Nothing! I assume you wanna talk and let something out of your chest too? 

Celegorm: Excellent! Then there is no need for an explanation. Let me tell you what kind of a rough week we had. 

Celegorm: I was planning good things for our people, but they kicked us out because apparently we were evil, and I tried to force myself upon Doriath’s princess. I was only trying to show I would be a better option than that mortal man. She even stole my dog! 

Celegorm: Can you believe that? And all people claim we’re the most problematic people in Beleriand. 

You: Didn’t you try to kill them, though?

Curufin: And my son doesn’t want to be my son anymore? Apparently, I disgusted him so much that he decided to disown himself. 

You: —what?

Week 6

You: *Groaning even harder after exhausting weeks of listening to the feanorians’ problems*

Fingon: Excuse me, are you by any chance (Name)?

You: Please, don’t tell me you’re one of Maedhros’s brothers!

Fingon: Oh no, I’m not.

You: – really?

Fingon: I’m his half-cousin!

You: dammit!

Week 8

Fingolfin: You must be (Name)

You: Huh?

Fingolfin: Okay, let me talk about my kids and those problematic nephews of mine. 

You: Sir? Do I know you?

Fingolfin: My kids don’t listen to me, and my half-brother’s kids just do anything they like, causing problems and being a bunch of ruffians. 

You: Sir? Sir? SIR?!

Week 14

Maedhros: Hey, (Name). Sorry, I have not been visiting for a while. I have been busy with work. 

Maedhros: (Name)?

You: *You sit up, shadows and bags in your eyes, exhausted and looking like you were going to break down at any moment*

Maedhros: (Name)! What happened? You look awful!

You: You – and the rest of your family need to find professional help.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hi Eunoia, this is my first time requesting so I'm hoping I'm doing this correctly (I've read through your rules as well), but could I request a mini fic/headcanon about fem!reader reuniting with her lovers Fingon and Maedhros in Valinor after the Ring has been destroyed? (Plot: Reader stayed in Middle Earth after Fingon and Maedhros' deaths to look after Elrond, and only returns to Valinor on the last boat with Elrond, Bilbo, Galadriel, Frodo and Gandalf after Sauron is gone?)

Haven Reached

featuring maedhros x fingon x fem reader

fandom tolkien-the silmarillion

warnings slight angst

a/n i reply after 1658565 years - I hope this is what you intended hun sorry if it isnt as you hoped to have

You stepped onto the shores with help of the son you had raised.

As you did – many fair elves turned to you, captured by the beauty and elegance you carried effortlessly without fail.

With eyes that spoke wisdom of many passed ages and kindness that could sweep the many ellon or elleth right under their feet – you stepped gracefully into the shores of Valinor from the last boat.

For a moment – your eyes looked back into the seas. . .Arda seemed almost a distant memory now and while you were supposed to return to Valinor many, many years ago to heal your aching heart and crying soul for your beloveds. . .

As a mother – you stayed behind, willing to put your heartaches aside to the twin sons you had gained.

Even though one of your adopted sons, Elros had chosen a different path in life. . .a short mortal life, you still failed to return, staying behind for Elrond.

For deep down – you knew he needed you and would fare well if you departed Arda so soon.

But suddenly your thoughts were grasped away when a voice called your name – mending a part of your heart with the lightness of that gentle voice.

“Melda. . .”

Your heart fluttered – then turning your eyes immediately those nestling browns of one of your lovers made half your soul crying out to him.

“Finno. . .”

Your voice – soft, delicate, and beautiful just as he remembered -like the early spring breeze.

“Y/N. . .”

He didn’t waste a moment longer to swiftly embrace you in his strong arm – caging you to his chest as if you were the air that he longed to have.

“You’re here. . .”

He said almost breathless – as if he was unable to believe his own eyes.

His hand came to rest on the back of your head – cradling your head as he pressed a kiss to your head, lingering there for a few moments longer.

“You’re here. . .”

He repeated – holding you tighter. If you listened carefully, you could hear an emotional tinge in his voice.

“Finno. . .”

You whispered – the tears you had suppressed for so long coming in with full force and Fingon did not hesitate to soothe you.

Soon gently lifting your face and locking your lips firmly in a familiar and almost forgotten kiss – soothing half of your crying soul as he embraced you with his tender affection and love, with touch of his desires he was forced to hold back as you were still standing among the shores.

The kiss was nothing short of what you had imagined with Fingon on your countless nights dreaming of meeting him – it was tender, loving, tearful and blissful.

“Come . . .”

He softly whispered.

“We shall meet Maitimo – otherwise he will think I have whisked you away all by myself, melda. . .”

Your heart fluttered as his loving tease just as you remembered came.

You smiled – cupping his face and stroking his cheeks – the imagines of his death finally leaving as he held you. . .your soul slowly reached that peace you had always dreamed of.

Fingon lips stretched into that charming smile that never ceased to flutter your heart.

The softest of red coated your cheeks and her fingers gently traced that smile you longed to see for many ages now.

Fingon reached forward and kissed your forehead – soon taking your hand to guide you to your Maitimo.

You momentarily looked over your shoulder – your motherly instinct making your eyes search for your son.

Elrond met your eyes and nodded encouraging – silently telling all was well as he embraced your daughter -in-law.

“I always knew you would be a wonderful mother – I am very much proud of you, my love – in everything you have chosen to do, no matter how gravely we missed you. . .”

Fingon softly whispered as his hand protectively held your small hand in his strong large hand.

“Thank you, melda. . .”

You smiled -Fingon’s ears perked up recognizing the change of your accent now.

If anything, it pleasantly surprised him – and he endearingly loved how your accent changed to hold only a tinge of your former Valinor accent now – now vastly an accent of Arda with a tinge of your old accent.

His eyes sparkled getting used to the change – realizing how much he already loved it.

“You sound beautiful. . .”

He said – cupping the side of your face gently for a moment.

***

Fingon led you towards the gardens of Lord Irmo – your hands were delicately brushing the flowers of the garden, each one unique to the next.

A vast variety of textures and color you couldn’t find in Arda – making you realize just how long you have been away from your birth place.

Maitimo saw Fingon walking towards him from the corner of his eyes – immediately standing tall.

“Where is she? I heard the last of the boats have-”

But Maitimo seemed to have cut himself off seeing your small figure treading up behind his male lover.

A shaky breath left Maitimo’s lips as his eyes locked with your eyes – the part of his soul that had being missing about to be reunited.

But you could see the clear hesitance in your other lover’s eyes.

Fingon turned to you – giving you the soft encouraging nod as you step past him towards your other lover.

Maitimo’s entire body froze – his eyes wide as you approached him.

It pained you to see him so nervous and scared – he gulped now that you were so close, only a foot or two away.

You knew why he was hesitant and scared – for Maitimo did not even spare you a glance or even spoke to you one last night as he fled from Eonwe’s tents with the silmarils.

He knew you broke your heard as he discarded you for the sake of the oath – he had placed the oath above you.

“Russo. . .”

You said softly reaching out to cup his face – he flinched stepped back a little.

Your heart ached at the sight. He must have seen the flash of hurt that crossed your eyes – because then he left out sigh closing his eyes heavily, before he fully crouched before you.

“Y/N. . .meldanya. . .forgive me. . .”

He whispered – a heartbroken whisper.

You sighed reaching out to cup his face and gently stroked his cheek – he instantly closed his eyes leaning into your touch and kissed your fingertips softy.

“Oh. . .Russo. . .”

You called him softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead as he broke into tears in front of his two lovers.

Fingon came forward – laying a comforting hand on Maitimo and an arm around your waist, his thumb caressing you softly.

“We’re here now. . .together”

Finno whispered laying another kiss to the side of your head – as Maitimo finally had the courage to find your lips in a soft kiss realizing you had forgiven him.

“Together. . .forever. . .”

You promised the two of them – now had you had your lovers back you weren’t going to give them up again.

Taglist form

tara's taglist:@mismaeve @fizzyxcustard @wandererindreams @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @bunson-burner @floraroselaughter

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

[lamemaster]

Tolkien Elves with a South Asian Reader

GIF by aashiqaanah

Request: Can you write an Indian reader insert story? It's ok if you don't want to share. 🙂

AN: While I don't want to write a specific nationality. I will write it based on the general South Asian experience. I hope that works and you like it. (also crazy story time my account was terminated for a while out there)

Genre: Romance and angst

Erestor:

"How does my love rank lower than yours? What criteria do you elves use to measure the purity of love?"

"I would be more cautious on a sword's end," the black-haired elf moves his blade precariously close to your neck. But you find it hard to care for it at the moment.

The crisp breeze of the night seems to cling close to you. Besides your worn-out clothes do little to keep the chill away. You have long given up the hope of freeing yourself from the binding the elves have put you in. Instead, all your attention is directed at the elf who calls himself Erestor.

An unknown rage fills you as you glare at your captor. Maybe if it were another day you would have begged for your life. You would have done that for the people waiting for you back at your camp. Children and women, for whom you became the bandit of Laor pass.

You had not expected to be caught by a part of elves. It had been an evening like any and you had set your sights on the gracious rations that the party carried. Food that would feed your people.

It didn't take long for elves to catch you. The guards dragged you to their leader. And maybe you had expected scorn but not hatred that lined their leader, Erestor's eyes. "Your kind is not even worthy of friendship let alone love," somehow the conversation had turned into a battle of wits. "We elves know of it better than any. Back then and even now your people side with the evil" One of the guard's fingers dig into your arm as their leader spit accusations at you.

The unfairness of his every word tugged at your heart. How could he...how could he talk of something he knew nothing of.

You press closer to the blade digging into your neck. You look directly at the elf as you do so, "In a world where Gods live in far off West, abandoning the East, letting my people suffer from one of their kind without mercy. In a world where your kind forge jewels with the light of the stars and bid us to fight your battles that promise us nothing but the deaths of our starving children whose fathers fought for an oath-bound lord. Do you not remember the bargain of your lords? It is the same as any other dark lord." The elf flinches as your words ring out loud in the night.

"Tell me why did my people had to pay for your kind's need to create. We lived in peace before your king forged the rings that brought us ruin." Your breath comes uneven. Unnoticed by you, hands holding you have long retreated. "From past to present, we the people of the East have borne the burden of the West. Our people have been thralls in the halls of darkness as you fought your righteous battles. And they have done so for their children as you have done for yours."

You stand up from where you have been kneeling. Your knee throbs with a subtle ache. No one dares to stop you as you step close to the leader whose eyes evade you.

Your voice resonates with a mix of anger and sorrow, and the intensity of your words leaves the elves around you momentarily speechless. Erestor's grip on his sword loosens slightly, his stoic expression faltering as he tries to find a response to your passionate outburst.

"In every battle waged, in every great design, it's our people who suffer the most," you continue, your voice unwavering. "While your kind sits in palaces adorned with stars, basking in the light of Valinor, it's our children who starve, our homes that burn, and our dreams that shatter. Your measure of love may be different, but I ask you this, Erestor – what do your people know of sacrifice?"

The tension in the air is palpable as the elves exchange uneasy glances. Your words challenge the very foundation of their beliefs, and Erestor's eyes finally meet yours, filled with a mix of defensiveness and curiosity.

"Do not think that you know the struggles of my people," he replies, his voice tinged with the remnants of anger.

Next to crackling fire, the camp stands at a stalemate in the battle of words. Pride, rage, and sorrow are the kindle to the burning flames.

Fingon:

Fingon had been traveling with Maedhros when he first met you. A courtier at one of the Eastern kingdoms.

Dressed in gleaming rubies and emeralds, armed with a lute you stepped into a hall full of men and elves. Your eyes lined with kohl and your hands bearing the marks of henna.

In a hall that glares at you with contempt and lust, you do not cower. Instead, you look everyone in the eye. Even Fingon gets to meet your unflinching gaze.

Bending at your waist you bow to the king seated on the throne but even that bow fails to lower your majesty. There is a knowing light in your eyes and a condescending smile on your lips.

"This is Y/N, our esteemed entertainer for the evening," the king introduces you. Musicians line behind you. "Come on Y/N show your elven guests here the courtesy of East. Sing them a song and move your feet to a mesmerizing dance." It seems wrong for the king to order you. Unfair for you to be presented as an object but you do not seem to be offended. Seemingly above everyone in the court.

If Fingon suspected you to be a disguised Ainu at your first glance, his suspicions turn into awe when you perform. The world seems to rest on your fingertips and time seems to blend into your steps.

Fingon's fingers move mirroring yours. He does not know the words but he does not need to know them to understand them.

Your song mocks the king who seems to be blinded by the monopoly over your body. The anklets you wear do not hinder you. And Fingon's breath hitches the second your hair comes undone. As if hearing his thundering heartbeat you look at him.

Amidst the thunder of applause, you look at Fingon. And you smile not with contempt but with something that Fingon reflects back in his own smile.

Hidden in the binding of this body, my soul shines bright,

It yearns for our eyes to meet, bending the rules of wrong and right,

Maedhros:

"I will marry an elf." The loud declaration silences the entire camp. It is followed by cursing voices and sounds of shushing pleas.

However, in doing so it garners the attention of the elf lord, Maehros. The one who seeks to reunite the East and the West of Middle Earth to defeat the Dark Lord.

While men fawning over elves had been no surprise for most, it was at this point an irrefutable fact. The secondborn seemed to be attracted to the firstborn like moths to a flame.

But this kind of open declaration was still...unheard of. Both elves and men had acknowledged the weird attraction and mutually decided to ignore the innate instinct.

This silent treaty breaks with you. And Maedhros cannot help but be intrigued. So, he hunts for you. Away from prying eyes that would cook rumors, Maedhros finds you by the vegetable garden that seems to have the entirety of your attention.

"Why must you marry an elf?" The eldest Feanorian tries not to laugh when you jump almost a foot high at his unannounced arrival. The shovel in your hand flying away.

With a hand on your chest, you turn to look at him. A frown adorns your forehead, "Ai, can you not scare me?" You do not address him as a lord or a prince. Maybe just don't know or maybe you do not care for it but Maedhros cannot find it in himself to take offense.

"Forgive me for that," Maedhros apologizes and much to his surprise you look nothing like the embarrassed woman he had expected to confront.

Instead, with the confidence of a preening peacock you seat yourself on the ground. "It's quiet alright. I do have to get used to it if I am to marry one of your kind," you understandingly nod. And Maedhos marvels at your nativity. Unblemished in the Adra that has been marred.

"I want to marry an elf to teach all the men of my community a lesson." You reply in a solemn voice. "I grew up watching my father beating my mother. My grandfather insulting my grandmother without a care of her heart. I grew up in the patriarchy of the East. With men who cared not an ounce about their partners." Maedhros cannot bring himself to speak. Not even when you sniff. There is pain there. Helplessness of a being he deemed to be untouched by anything mal a moment ago.

A pain that rips his heart. The tears of his own mother come to his mind. Deed of his father and his brothers that would haunt their mother.

So he listens attentively as you continue with determination in your voice. "I will marry an elf to teach every single man in my life a lesson. I will show them how much my husband will love me," you smile through your tears. It isn't blind infatuation that Maedhros expected but something deeper.

"Your kind treat your female so much better and I...I want that for my kind too. I want to hand back my sisters, my mother, my aunts their self-respect that men have rolled in dirt."

A sane part of Maedhros yearns to tell you of elves. Of how his father left his mother, how his grandfather married another, how Thingol discards the wisdom of his wife, or how Eol captured Aerdhel.

But he cannot. All he can do is, pat your head in a comforting gesture and pray for the success of your mission.

"Will you marry me then?" you propose to the Feanorian who snorts the very next moment.

[awkwardkindatries]

Having a threesome with Russingon. Maedhros cumming deep inside of you, and then having you sit on Fingon’s face so he can clean you up.

Fuck Maedhros would carve you open just enough for Fingon to have such an easy and deep slip of the tongue.

[mascula-sappho]

I know we all talk about homophobic straight boy Tolkien nerds, but what about homophobic straight girl Tolkien nerds, the ones who write fanfic of obviously gay characters x f! Readers, the ones who have no grasp that sindarin is not the only elvish language, the ones who idealize aragorn, and love Galadriel for being a girl boss but not Aredhel, the ones who make up fictional, completely canonically unsupported wives for Maedhros and Fingon, the ones who love the women of Tolkien but put tons of uncanon gender roles into elvish society for no reason.

[doodle-pops]

Think You Can Warm Me Up

[Elves and Cockwarming x reader]

Request: What elves do you think would like cock-warming? - anon

A/N: This was a lot of elves to think for since I've added more over the months gone by. Enjoy!!!

Warning: smut, cockwarming

More: Brat Taming

Loves it – sometimes when they’re too busy to have sex with you but you want to feel them, they’ll suggest you sit on their lap, only to feel them raising your body slightly to slide themselves into you. When you lift your hips to move, their hands will be planted firmly on your waist with a stern look on their faces warning you to stay still. They’ll keep their hands on your waist, using it to pull you closer to rest against their chest and hold you down. Some use it for punishment when your bratty side comes out. They’ll rile you up by making out with you, having you grind on them feeling as though you two are about to have sex, but then when you’re about to ride them, they’ll lean in to whisper, “Not so fast love, no moving, sit right there and stay still or I’ll leave you empty. You thought I’d just give in and give you what you wanted, my poor confused little one” Other times, they’d use it to literally warm themselves up. When you two are relaxing as such, they’d throw the suggestion out to you and once you agree, the two of you will just be lounging about with their cock buried in you, staying warm. There are times you’ve fallen asleep with them buried in you. “You feel so warm and tight love, stop shifting so much, just stay still. This feels good, now we can cuddle.”

MAEDHROS, Maglor, CELEBRIMBOR, FINGOLFIN, FINGON, Finarfin, FINROD, AEGNOR, GLORFINDEL, GALDOR, BELEG, Rog, Elrond

Hates it – the first time you suggest the act, they were down to try it, but once you sank your warm hole onto their cock, it was over for them. Their hands would immediately shoot out to grab your waist, urging you to move but you’ll simply push it away and lean into their chest informing them that you’re not supposed to move. “It’s called cockwarming for a reason. Now stay still. Don’t get mad, remember you agreed to this, so sit and enjoy it.” This was absolute torture for them, they couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing that if they moved their hips right then, you’d probably hop off and that wasn’t part of their plan. Waiting till you were settled in and comfortable, with ease, their hands would sneak around your waist holding you firmly to their chest and without any warning, begin thrusting into you. You’d admit that this was not how you planned the session to go but with the way the tip of their cock was brushing against your soft spot, your moans gave it away. Now whenever you suggest it to them, they’d smile at you saying that they’ll behave, only to abuse your heat as soon as you sink down on their cock. The longest they’ve ever lasted was five seconds. “If you really thought I’d sit through all that torture, you’re absolutely wrong. Now be a good girl/boy and enjoy my cock.”

FEANOR, CELEGORM, Curufin, Turgon, ARGON, ANGROD, EGALMOTH, ECTHELION, MAEGLIN, ELLADAN

Mixed feelings – one minute it’s torture for them the other it’s blissful. It just all depends on their mood not so much yours. If they’re tired and just want to be warmed or you want to feel them, they’d let you go ahead without interrupting you. They’d simply wrap their arms around you and pull you in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead and drifting off to sleep. Other times it’s when they’re busy doing paperwork and could do with a little relief. Letting you sit on their lap with the table hiding their cock buried deep in your heat, they’d let you lean into them so they could continue their work. “This feels good, didn’t think I’d be needing this, but after I’m finished here, I’d bend you over this table for a good fuck, hmm.” When you’re teasing them all day and acting up and then decide it’s time to kick it up a notch by making them feel you were about to ride them after your tedious torture only to sit still on their cock, now you’re just asking for it. They’d be grinding their teeth the entire time when you tell them not to move while pretending to do something important, informing them that when you’re finished then you two can go at it, they’re not going to listen, not when you were suffocating their cock. They wouldn’t care at that point, so say goodbye to whatever it was that you were doing. “Don’t you think this is a little too much love, don’t you think this has gone on for too long because I think so as well. How about we change that by having me fuck you, now.”

Maedhros, MAGLOR, CARANTHIR, Amrod, Fingolfin, FINGON, TURGON, FINARFIN, Finrod, AEGNOR, Glorfindel, GALDOR, Egalmoth, ROG, ERESTOR

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @lilmelily

[autumnshighlady]

Tolkien Masterlist

Feanor

Wildest Dreams (ft. Fingolfin)

A Lesson in Language

Maedhros

coming soon

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

SERIES

The Professor series [WIP]

completed: Nesta, Gavriel, Feanor

coming soon: Rowan, Eris, Dorian, Maedhros, Helion

All I Gave You Is Gone (Tolkien x ACOTAR crossover) [WIP]

part 1 / part 2 /

[batsyforyou]

How Fingon was as a Baby Headcanons

Tags: Babysitting, babies, being a cute menace, 

Pairing: Maedhros x fem reader

Author’s Note: @asianbutnotjapanese @lamemaster @a-world-of-whimsy-5 As usual if you no longer wish to be tagged please let me know! 

He chews peoples hair and pulls harshly on it

Just has it wrapped around his tiny little fists so cutely but also so terrifying 

Has yanked at some poor elf’s ear when trying to get their hair 

Loves to grip onto fingers with the strength of Superman 

Also likes to put his fingers in his mouth and the fingers of his captives 

His own thumb is not excluded from this 

He suck’s his thumb so often 

Just had the most baby doe eyes ever with him sucking his thumb

He looks so cute and innocent but he is not

He is so cute but so rowdy

Loves to crawl away while giggling like a nut who just escaped Arkham Asylum 

Especially when he is trying to escape bath time

His two favorite toys are: a blue ball that he throws at everyone and a white horse plush 

He doesn’t build with blocks he smacks them together and laughs cutely 

He loves Maedhros and Maedhros loves him 

Once bit Feanor’s and his Ada’s nose during cuddle time 

So keep him entertained! Please for the love of everything good 

He is so energetic that he exhausts you more than a normal baby 

Makes you regret dreaming of giving Maedhros cute babies (this is remedied when Maglor comes along)

Loves to put his hands in Maedhros’s curls and tug  

Maedhros tends to wince a lot over it but he usually gets him to sleep peacefully on his chest so he lets it happen

I mean he has the rest of eternity to regrow hair right?

Fingon is such a glowy baby that he is almost bioluminescent with his blue eyes glowing more than the rest of him 

Like the bioluminescent water you can sometimes see at that one ocean or something similar 

Sleeps with literal pigeon eyes 

One goes one way and the other goes another way 

Its so cute but so concerning thankfully he does grow out of it 

But his opened eyed stare is literally you wondering what he’s looking at 

Overall Fingon is a hilarious baby and a 10/10 level cuteness

Masterlist

[imclimbingthestairsoforthanc]

Love and Loss - Maedhros x Reader

Even after all those years, you could feel your lover's cold words biting into you like shards of ice. Despite his cruelty, losing him hurt. Sharper still was losing part of yourself.

The frigid air of Angband cruelly caressed Maehdros’ body as he hung, limp and numb, from the mountainside of Thangorodrim. He craned his head at the golden light that peaked above the horizon. It was so strange - it was a light eerily familiar with Laurelin.

He had met you there - under the golden tree of Valinor. The pink blush of your dress matched the Yuletide decorations and complimented your buoyant smile. It was one that he had soon begun to detest. 

He’d refrained from burning the ships at Losgar for the sake of you and his dear friend Fingon, through whom he had met you, but that wasn’t something he had ever cared to admit. No, he feared what his father might do to him in wrath were he to admit it. But that wasn’t to say that the indignation that his father felt to quite literally everyone of the Eldar save a precious few wasn’t a growth in the caverns of his own mind. The friendship that blossomed between the two of you had long been neglected and cast away. 

It could have been a trick of Morgoth’s. It was not out of character for the fallen Vala to torment Maedhros with impersonations of loved one’s and visions of the peaceful life he led before leaving home. Teasing him with memories and voices and phantom touches was something Morgoth seemed to take pleasure in, and though Maedhros had - wrongly - begun to harbor ill will towards you for a short while, Morgoth didn’t seem to mind taking full advantage of your memory from time to time. 

“Friends? A lover?” Morgoth would say as Maedhros reached out his free hand to take yours and kiss it under Laurelin’s light like he did that day upon your first meeting, only to prod his fingers at nothing but the biting cold air of Angband, “It would seem they have forsaken you, even in memory.”             

It was not, in fact, a picture of the light of the tree. Emerging over the horizon was a fiery orb hung in the sky, beautiful and terrible and, quite frankly, frightening. Maedhros had never seen anything like it. If it was an illusion, it was most certainly not one made of memory. 

Metal flickered in the blazing light, and when a rich, clear sound echoed off the mountainside, Maedhros recognized the gleaming gold to be the gold of the trumpets of Fingolfin.

He couldn’t really say he felt any bitterness or contempt as he watched the blue banners arise over the hills in the West. There was no resentment or hatred rising up in his throat like bile. After countless days (years? decades?) hung on the mountainside, Maedhros couldn’t really feel anything but desperation. 

Years of enmity were lost on his mind as he cried out to his kin marching over the hills. His voice was strong; his cries echoed on the rocks and down into the valley. He made no notion to stop, no matter how hoarse his throat would be or how cruel and fierce his lashings of penance.

Harsher still was the response of Fingolfin’s host - or rather, the absence of a response. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Turgon was the first to spot the great bird hurrying toward Hithlum bearing his brother and his cousin. He cried out in astonishment, and a hundred more gasps followed his own. Surprise soon turned to horror. 

Blood poured out of Maedhros, but from where could not be seen lest he was unswaddled. His face was contorted in anguish, and he clutched onto Fingon like a vice.

Despite the years of disregard he displayed for your relationship and the resulting contempt you festered for him, you almost pitied him. Almost.

You didn’t move as Fingon dismounted the great bird, only stared at the shrunken body of someone once loved and once loathed. Nothing stirred in your gut at the sight of him like it should have. There was no fierce rage blistering your insides as you watched Fingon carry Maedhros across the concrete in Hithlum like years of friendship had not been tossed to the wind - as Maedhros, unworthy as he was, re-entered your life, at least for the moment in thought. There was no real pity enveloping your now-still heart as you watched the black-haired archer haul his dear friend - your friend - to the healing rooms. 

You wished you hadn’t looked.

Amidst the blood and dirt that caked his skin you saw Maedhros’ once gleaming eyes wild and frantic. You adored when those eyes were warm and kind and you loathed him when they were cold and piercing, but something entirely gut-wrenching crept under your skin as you saw Maedhros Fëanorion in utter agony and panic. 

You shrugged, then turned away and made your way to your chambers. He’d lost too much blood - if he made it to the morrow he’d not remember you, or the tears that he surely would have seen pooled up in your eyes upon his return. 

______________________________________________________________________________

It seemed that even though Maedhros wouldn’t remember the day’s events, he was determined to make sure everyone else would. His cries of anguish were indescribable; his screams unlike any you had ever heard before, even crossing the Grinding Ice. You had tossed and turned for well over half the night, and you were about to visit the healers, well, the ones that weren’t occupied with Maedhros, if there were any, for some sleep inducing herbs when a knock sounded at your door.

“Are you awake?” came the voice of Aredhel. You did not bother to cover yourself before you answered. She wore a grave look on her face - one she had not worn since Elenwë had passed. Her eyes were tired and her brow was taught. Her lips were puckered slightly and set in a straight line. Her voice was quiet.

“He is calling for you.”

The screaming stopped for a moment as the words settled. Out of an old habit that had not quite died, you nearly reached for your slippers and robe. You stopped yourself and let out a sharp breath.

“Will you not come?”

Aredhel had been alienated from the sons of Fëanor, just like you had. She knew what it felt like to be separated from friends, from family, but it was unlikely that she knew the weight of her request.

You scoffed, “No.”

“Nesa, plea-”

“Tell Findekano to color his hair,” you said sarcastically, “and find a gown that flatters him. I doubt any of mine will fit. The patient is tired. He will take the ba-”

“Nesa!” Aredhel said, new vigor in her tone, “Please.”

Another scream rang out. Aredhel’s eyes glossed over and she elongated a blink. She was exasperated, however much she tried to conceal it for selflessness’ sake, and desperate. 

You sighed, “Let me get dressed.” 

You couldn’t tell if the sound of your boots against the marble floor had become significantly louder than you last remembered it or if you were subconsciously stomping your way to the halls of healing to drown out Maedhros’ cries. In his defense, he had admittedly gotten quieter; it could have been because his pain was lessening, it could have been because his throat was hoarse. Your steps weren’t deliberately quick, but the irritation that was held behind each one made it seem like you were eager to be somewhere. You stopped abruptly a few feet away from the door. You heard him let out a guttural groan before inhaling sharply.

You took a long, deep breath before opening the door. 

“Thank Eru you're here,” you heard Fingon say, “He won’t stop begging for you. It was getting worse and worse, albeit his condition has improved.” 

You grimaced. The smell of blood and desperation filled the air. Maids and aides were rushing in and out of the room, still unable to keep up with the clean water and dressing despite the improvement. How bad was it? 

Your feet, once trampling under you down the hall, now felt heavy and slow as you made your way to the chair by the bed. Your robes would have to be thrown away - you were sure whatever liquid that was in the floor and soaking into them was not clean water. It was a shame. You liked these robes - long and golden and royal blue. They made you look taller. 

His eyes had no tears in them - perhaps he’d cried himself dry - as he looked at you. His face was twisted and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Your eyes trailed to his neck and to his chest, where numerous smaller bandages were fastened. When your eyes fell lower, you found yourself horrified. 

His right hand was gone. 

That had been where all the blood was coming from, you concluded. You watched with widened eyes as one of the healers wrapped the bleeding nub tightly with another clean cloth. The blood, though still pouring out profusely, seemed to be letting up a bit. 

You met his eyes again. They were as blue as ever, and even Morgoth himself couldn’t douse the fire inside them, but they were glistening and frightened and desperate. They widened as he saw you again.

“No!” he shouted, “Leave me alone!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Fingon and Aredhel both said he called for you, and for what?  So he could send you away? What a waste of your time! You took a step closer, despite his protests. 

“I told you to leave!”

You said nothing.

“But my lord,” said a healer gently, “You called for them - said it was someone that loved you.” 

He looked to the healer and made a near snarl, “Do not patronize me!” He turned to you. “You are the worst enemy I have ever had!”

Ah.

You reluctantly made your way to the chair next to the bed as the aid tried to reason with him, to no avail. He lashed out at you with his left hand. You stopped him firmly with your right. 

“Maedhros,” you said, and for a moment he looked at you and seemed a child again, unmarred and burdened not with the grief of the East, “I am not Morgoth, and you are not in Angband. You are in Hithlum. You are safe.”

 He seemed, for a moment, at comfort, and though his turmoil did not leave him, he despaired no longer.

You sat with him in silence for a long while, but it was not a comfortable silence. He tried to make conversation with you, perhaps to distract himself, or perhaps because in his delirious state, he thought you wanted to be there.

You suppressed a scoff. To watch him bleed? After all he’d done to you, though, maybe he thought you’d like it. 

Time dragged on. For a while, the healers insisted you stay until he was asleep. As the night grew older and your thoughts wandered to memory, you found yourself staying not at the healers’ request, but at your own free will.

Maedhros had done terrible things, yes - though he wasn’t as active as his father in Alqualonde and he didn’t burn the ships, he had pledged himself to you. He had made a promise under pain and longsuffering - one that he had broken. But how much pain, and how much longsuffering before he was vindicated? Before his transgressions annulled? Were they reconciled when he was taken, or when his hand came off? You couldn’t help but pity him.

It was a pain you knew too well. 

Crossing the Helcaraxe had been hard on everyone, and losing your left hand didn’t make it any easier. Losing it was painful and healing hurt more, but nothing was as detrimental as what came next. At first, you had been the ‘funny aunt’ to Idril who could use puppets on her arm, and a beacon of hope and a picture of determination to a young Aredhel, but as time went on, you found themselves looking at you with poorly hidden pity, eyes clouded over like storm clouds amongst stars at a masquerade ball. 

But it was not pity that Maedhros really needed - no. It was redemption. 

His disregard for those he claimed to love was prominent, proved at his departure and highlighted by his actions. But his father had gone mad and his grandfather was killed. He was in a tight spot. Was he truly evil at heart? It seemed cruel to expect him to compromise, what with part of him already compromised. But how else was he to be redeemed? Was he to fast? Or to cut off his hair like Fingon had his hand?  Was he to kneel on your doorstep for one hundred days, begging for vindication? For your forgiveness?

You could give him that - forgiveness. It was far-fetched, or so you thought, to bargain for unearned forgiveness when he had a bucketload of consequences that were to come with his actions - a lack of your love and tender care that he once had being one of them.

Your mother would chide you. Forgiveness was to be given freely. Only Mandos himself and only by leave of Mawë could mercilessness be wrought, and whether or not a person was deserving of it was not for any of the Eldar to decide, not even the greatest. It was something you struggled with as a child - after all, anyone could hurt you, but that didn’t matter as long as they couldn’t hold a grudge to rival your own, right?

Maedhros stirred. You let go of his hand - when had you reached for it? - as if it burned and stood abruptly. Dawn was upon you. His body was broken. You knew the emotional turmoil he would soon undergo, and you doubted he would make it. He could reckon his fortune for forgiveness with the Decider himself. 

______________________________________________________________________________

You slept throughout the next day, though no rest came to you. Memories and subtle convictions plagued your mind. At last, late in the afternoon, you decided to have a bite to eat and get some fresh air. 

Thirty pairs of eyes followed your form, breaths held and shoulders tense as you made your way to the kitchens of Hithlum. You had not toyed with the prospect of being bombarded with questions about the state of the Noldorin prince, but, you supposed, it was for the better. You knew little about his condition as of today, and you wished you knew less than you did. 

Despite the beauty of the day, a cloud of tension stalked Hithlum eerily. The gardens were almost too quiet. If you hadn’t any fear of being caught, you would have talked to the spotted swan orchids potted near the bench. 

You sat in silence for a moment and rued leaving your room, beginning to doze off after you had decided to rouse and go about. You jumped when the bench shifted underneath you.

“I don’t suppose you're the worst enemy I’ve ever had.”

You sighed and looked down at the bowl in your hands, elbows resting on your knees. “That isn’t what you said last night,” you said, “Or all those years ago, for that matter.”

Maedhros fell silent for a moment. “I know.”

It seemed as if the both of you had a bubble around one another, and the proximity forced them to squish and mold against one another. It was only a matter of time before one of them would pop, leaving you vulnerable and Maedhros even more so.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long, awkward while.

You said nothing.

“Melda, please-”

“Do not call me that.”

He let out a broken sigh and hid his face away from you. Not that you were looking. His mouth contorted into a grimace, and tears pricked his eyes.

“Woe is me!” He said suddenly and quietly, but his voice grew louder, “Woe is me! And woe is the day I left you on those white shores! Now I am at a loss - of a love and of a limb. My departure was the greatest of my misdeeds. I shall rue it, and of all my fell deeds, leaving you behind shall be accounted as the worst.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his admittance. 

“I see that hanging by your wrist for thirty years has not quipped that tongue of yours.”

“No,” he replied, “And I fear nothing ever shall. But for the will of my tongue, I’d have all that I have ever wanted by now - all that I have wished for while hanging from that precipice. How now shall I go on?”

“Do not be a fool,” you said, rather harshly, but years of biting winds and boots filled with snow will make a person harsh, “What is done is done. There is no use lamenting what once was, for by lament alone it shall not come again to be.”

“If you would hear my lament,” he said, “Then maybe you would forgive me.”

You straightened your posture. “You have not asked my forgiveness - and do not do so yet! You have a great deal to learn before you can be reconciled, if I see fit.”

He raised his eyebrows, “If you see fit? I beg your pardon, but was I false to hope that you might hear my plea? Did you lose your mercy and compassion on your journey?”

“I lost many things.”

Maedhros squared his shoulders towards you. His eyes trailed down your frame, and then widened. His breath hitched, and a tense silence befell you both.

“I am sorry,” he said after a while. His voice was timid and shy. Even in begging your forgiveness, the Fearnorian pride that tainted his blood did not cower; his words were ever confident, ever secure in their purpose. Upon looking at your left arm, which his right now mimicked, his boldness left him.

“Hush. You are bold to ask forgiveness of your misdeeds towards me, but you did not cut off my hand.”

He said nothing. For a moment. Your posture straightened. His, though you were now vulnerable to him, slouched. 

“Then forgiveness I do not ask of you,” Maedhros said, “only one thing, if your kindness would go so far: council. I do not know what to do next - how I am to relearn all that I have known.”

“It is a long process, even for the greatest of the Eldar - even for one filled with the light of Valinor,” you replied, “It will end, but it feels like it never will.”

“What does it feel like?”

White shores flashed across your eyes. You could feel your mother’s disappointed gaze burning into your back. Green lights came into your peripheral, and for a moment you could feel Turgon’s embrace and Idril’s excited shivering. Your mouth twitched into a fleeting smile. Then there was a crack, and a splash, and a woman’s scream and a man’s desperate pleas to the gods - whichever ones were listening, Manwë or Ulmo or Melkor himself. You gripped the bench with your right hands. Your heart beat increased and a weight fell upon your arm like heavy stones. A thousand tiny needles pricked your skin. You began to feel stiff and lifeless. This time, there were no harp-calloused hands hauling you to the dry, and the weight on your wrist only got heavier. Your eyes flew open.

“Cold,” you said quietly, and shuddered, “As if the chill was drawn from all the waters and the ground and the winds of Eä and even the cold of the souls of the wicked, and then sewn onto my bones.”

You slowly reached with your right hand towards what used to be your left.

“And sometimes, I feel stiff - like my hand has been covered in tar and I cannot move it,” you continued, “And sometimes, there is nothing.” 

Maedhros did not dare meet your eyes.

“They will look at you with such pity that maybe their gazes will regrow it, but they will not. Until they know your power, your will, your resolve, until deep down they fear you, they will whisper to one another how unfortunate you are to have suffered such a loss. Your arm will heal, but until you have surpassed resolution and have become fortitude incarnate, you will not again be well.” 

Maedhros didn’t respond at first. He sat for a good long while, unsure of whether you were talking about your hand or something entirely different. Your gaze was directed towards the morning glories climbing up the Western stairs, but your eyes were somewhere far off from the gardens of Hithlum. 

“How do you bear it, then,” he said, “Until it does heal?”

“There isn’t anything for it,” you replied, “Except to bear it. In Valinor, maybe, you would heal in time tenfold. Though, from what I heard, providence in Valinor is not an option.”

“No, it is not. But I have told you already, it is my greatest regret. And you have said it yourself: what is done is done.” His eyes were filled with determination, but void of all hope. 

The sun began to set, and the two of you sat together late into the night. Memories floated about your mind of your life before your departure - before his departure, and sooner or later your mind drifted to your memories with him. Some were good memories, but most were not. His departure - his oath - replayed over and over in your mind. 

“Why did you do it?” you said, “Why did you leave?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t tell if he was hesitant or thoughtful.

“I would have left all the same, I suppose,” he said, finally, “or been forced out, anyways. A man will be worthy of his father’s name or be tainted by it  - after the attack at Alqualonde, I do not know which would have been worse.”

You seemed unsatisfied with his answer, but what he told you was the truth - and he knew of nothing else that would satisfy you, not even a lie. 

“I would have loved you all the same,” you said.

He let out a sharp breath, “Would you have?”

You cast your gaze down. “I have endured bitter cold and hardships across the Grinding Ice. What is time to the Eldar? But it is my greatest loss. I loved you even then.”

He stood, abruptly, and knelt in front of you, clasping your right hand with his left. “You knew what I had done then. Can you not love me now?”

You retracted your hand, “You think too highly of yourself. My love for you is trapped under the ice; miles now lie between memories.”

“You held it in your left hand, then,” he reached again for you and found your wrist. “I have given my right in atonement. Is that not enough? Shall I give my left? I gladly will.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you said, “By your right hand you were fell and your deeds were wicked, but by your left you may yet be forgiven. Convince me.”

“What will it take?”

“What will you give?”

“I have told you already,” said Maedhros, “if that is not enough, then I will give you everything.”

You searched his blue eyes for a lie or a fault, but you found none. Your resolve nearly broke when his eyes roamed across your face, searching desperately for your reaction. Would it break him - for you to tell him to get lost? No. He had endured so much, and he did not break you when he was separated from you the first time. You imagined vividly enough to make yourself believe that he would break, and soon had yourself convinced that it was mercy that led you to give him his chance.

“Sit up. Hold me for a while like you did long ago,” you said, “Let me think, and perhaps my terms will not be too great.”

It was not mercy. Forgiveness was difficult, even more so if one’s wounds had gone untreated for too long; but perhaps it would come a little easier if you found solace from your afflictions in the careful embrace of your guilt-ridden afflicter. Your heart stopped at his touch, and though you knew it wasn’t forgiveness, something welled up in your heart that made you wish that things were not as they were, or at the very least, that they could go back to the way things had been.

“As you wish.”

[elficially-done-with-life]

Just a Shadow of myself

Pairing: Maedhros x reader

Summary: After Angband, Maedhros is unsure if you want to stay with him.

Warnings: mentions of Maedhros' torture

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"You should find someone that is better than me." Maedhros murmured weakly. His eyes were full of pain and sorrow as they stared up into your eyes.

He lay on your lap, for after Fingon had rescued him, he was still not strong enough to sit upright for long.

His red hair framed his face in such a way that he resembled a painting.

"What are you talking about?" you asked softly and began to stroke his hair gently. Despite everything he had been through, his hair was still soft.

Maedhro's brow furrowed in deep worry lines, causing him to grimace painfully. Apparently, even that simple little movement brought him hurt. You wished you could help him heal faster, somehow.

"You deserve better, Vanimelda. I- I am just not who I used to be. I am at best a shadow of the man you knew and loved," he said hoarsely and you could see that he was on the verge of tears. Others wouldn't have noticed that, but after everything you two had been through, you could easily tell.

You leant forward slowly and gave him a gentle yet deep kiss on his lips. "My dearest Maitimo." you whispered softly against his lips. "No matter what happens, I will always love you. And even if you are only a shadow of yourself, I prefer this shadow to all others. Because for me, there is only you. And you must not give up now. Together we can make everything better again."

Maedhros looked at you with those sad eyes. You swallowed. "Unless you do not want me anymore," you said in a trembling voice, because it would be your worst nightmare if that were the case.

Maedhros let out a soft whimper. "I love you so much." he whispered, "More than anything in this world."

It took him a lot of strength, but he lifted his hand and gently stroked your hair. "Just thinking about you gave me the strength to get through all the pain. It meant a lot to me if you would continue to stand by my side."

"Then that's exactly what I will do," you whispered softly and gently stroked his now scarred cheek with your knuckles.

It would be a long road, but as long as you were together, you would manage everything.

[lamemaster]

The Soulless One (Part 1)

Request: Hi 🌷 How are you? Can I request the female human reader, who died in a battle fighting. Being reborn as an elf in Valinor and Maedhros falling in love with her again?

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Genre: Angst🤌 and drama🦐 and SOULMATES✨ (And they were soulmates)

Summary: Giving away your soul for a bloody battle? Pfft, you were fucking in for good.

AN: Heyyy sorry for being late but I just love your ask. This was in my brain cooking for months so here is my two-part apology for being late. (Is the reader pick me? Lmk)

Part 2 |

"Then you can have mine," and just like nothing, the Edain offered her soul. "Whatever parts of you they have stolen, you can lend from me. They aren't flawless like you elven folk, but they've lasted me decades." Your smile was easy and light, unlike your words.

Maglor almost wanted to jump out of the window but his brother's room was too high up to do that without losing a limb and as a matter of fact, the Feanorians are not fond of losing limbs until absolutely necessary.

"You speak of your soul like it matters not a bit," Maedhros huffed shuffling his blankets seemingly unbothered by you a great feat.

"We men may possess weak body but undermine not the strength of our souls." The glimmer of pride in your voice is the only indication of the position that you hold over the rest in the room.

"You..." Words feel awkward on Maedhros' tongue. "You can't just...offer your soul." A raised eyebrow and amused smirk is not the response that Maedhros honestly expected.

Much to everyone present's surprise you rest your feet on his bed leaning back in your chair, "Can't you like do some elven magic or shit," you shrug as if absorbing mannish souls were to be a polite elven practice.

Celegorm scoffed ready to snivel into the conversation before Maedhros delivered him a glare that very much declared to not fuck up the alliance with men.

Fingon, on the other hand, seemed to be possessed by untamable laughter. "Much to our sorrow, there isn't a way to lend souls general." Rolling your eyes, you look up into the sky with a frustrated frown on your forehead. "Let me share my fucking soul so we can fucking fight the damned bane of my people." You challenge the gods themselves.

And the weird assortment of the elven party gathered would have snickered at your antics if not for the miraculous thunder strike that the gods seem to have sent for you.

The next moment, Maedhros clutched his chest as the broken fragments of his soul were pulled together by a force that seemed to glue them together like a completed puzzle.

"Someone more refined perhaps," the damn elf smirks even as you glare at him. "Someone who restrains from cursing after every other word," he continues with his long list of demands.

"Enchanting eyes, long braided hair, a beauty mark or two placed by their lips, elegant nose, supple lips-"

"Well you might have to fuck yourself then my lord," you interrupt his merry list.

Maedhros chuckles, much to your growing annoyance. "You are right general. After all, I was once the well-formed one once, not much of it now but do not mind my requisites in a spouse."

None of his words sting more than the echoing past tense of his last sentence. "You still are well-formed lord." Your cheeks burn with heat and it is foolish to feel such fervor for mere words. Forcing your eyes to focus on the looming willow swaying in the afternoon heat you muster the courage to spew the words that seem to rush from the crevices of your heart to your lips. "I may not be the one from your long list of wants but you still are yourself. You, to me, are the most radiant one."

Your heart beats louder than it has ever done. Louder than the aftermath of a bloody battle. You contemplate fleeing the scene of this overtly emotional moment before Maedhros scoffs. "What would an unkempt one like you know of radiance." His words are sharp, even in his praise he spares no comfort to you.

It is better than the coying sweetness of his kindness that you have dreamt of. The harshness of his words makes it easier to let go of shame and hold on to him. "Indeed what would a woman blinded by eldest Feanorian know of my lord," had it been any other to mock you with such words, you would have toppled his head from his body but in front of the elf, who has conquered your soul, your words and actions have mellowed into mere longing. "As for all your extensive criteria," you step closer to him, and despite the subtlety of his sharp breath, you notice it, "I will make sure to satisfy you in the next lifetime."

If this was what sharing your soul meant, then you would have done it sooner. You would have given it to him at first glance.

Maedhros, a ten centuries old elder finds him in quite a predicament. The unruly general by his side was anything but of his preference.

You were brutish. Your hair was a tangled mess on a good day or a bunched-up botched hair bun on worse ones. Your face and body were full of scars. Your laughter was the most un-lady-like thing full of snorts.

He, the eldest Feanorian, was not made for anything less than perfect. Even in his fall, his existence and his fate were destined to be beyond you.

It had to be an effect of sharing your soul, perhaps. Maedhros read countless texts. He even scoured his father's works on fea and hroa all his research to retrieve Miriel's soul.

There had to be something wrong with him to find all wrong with you to be everything right.

You've been to countless battlefields. Stepped over broken bodies without much of a look back. It had been a challenge to the entire court of your father's kingdom. You were a soldier before a princess.

Yet, today, it feels different. You are aware of the brittle soul trapped in your body. You knew you were fucked the second you realized how little was left of it. The moment you poured your very essence into the elven lord.

Your mortal bones have never felt lighter. With the first steps on the battlefield, you know it is your last. The General from Rhun is destined to die on this very battlefield.

But you mask it well. You grip your sword tight in your hands and steal a last glance at the lord who holds the rest of your soul.

A fraction of the second that you manage to steal feels longer than decades of existence. You knew you would die for the eldest Feanorian. Looking back at your men, you speak words of courage and valor.

"We fight for the Earth that feeds us, for the rivers that water our crops, and the winds that soothe summers. We fight to one day free our land of its curse." Your men roar back at your words. Their eyes filled with brimming passion but also acceptance.

Every single soldier on that field was aware of their end. Ulfang had long shown his true colors. Easterlings, as others called your people, were now the enemy.

The entire alliance saw you as nothing more than a thorn in their grand plans. Meager rations, little to no water, rusted weapons, the worst had befallen whatever had left of the forces of the East.

Maedhros was too far gone to even allow an audience. This battlefield would be the end of the last host to Edain from the East. Your sacrifice wouldn't be enough to repair the loss of elven lives on the first few days of battle.

But it would perhaps be the ignition of valor for a generation far into the years of the world.

Maedhros despises you. More than Easterlings, more than Ulfang whom you once treated as a brother or even the botched form of orcs.

He hates you for your crude humor, your smug smiles, your nasty temper, your ceaseless shameless flirting, he hates the way you give away all of yourself without blinking an eye, how you smile maniacally surrounded by a towering group of enemies, they way your soul hold the fragments of his soul together. The worst is that you bear every unfair mistreatment thrown your way without an ounce of complaint.

The sunken look of circles under your eyes and the hollow of your cheeks was enough to know how poorly the entire camp had treated the remaining Haradrim. Moldy food, uneven sleeping grounds, even the spear in your hand were made out of brittle splintering wood that trembled at the smallest impact.

He knows of his cruelty to you. He also knows of your soft thanks to his guard, who informs you of another rejected audience.

And when you walk away from his tent, he can see the heavy burden on your shoulders that seem to slump under the burden you carry.

But on the battlefield, he sees another version of you. Through stolen glimpses at the farthest corner of the battlefield, he sees you.

Your armor is dented. A new wound bleeds heavily from your back. Your eyes are wide open untouched by the sweat that drips down from your brow to the tip of your nose. Your sweat mixes with the dark blood splattered on your face.

However, most eire is the wide grin on your lips. He feels a thrum of uncontained joy in the parts of your soul. No...it wasn't joy but eagerness. Excitement for what was to come. Death.

5 arrows, 2 sword wounds, and an array of petal-like bruises blooming all over your body. In the dark of night, he does not struggle to find you as a mortal would have.

Littered amongst the unclaimed bodies of your kin, the forces of Ulfang had left rotting lay you.

No smile greets Maedhros this time. None of your clever words or even an appreciative whistle that was your routine after checking him out. It is awfully quiet.

"I had expected you to betray me. To leave the alliance that promised you nothing," his arms wrap around your cold body, pulling your head into his lap. "Even till the end of it, I could not trust you. Only in your absence have I come to yearn you," he snaps the arrows sticking out of your torso.

His thumbs wipe off his own tears as they fall and slide off your face. "I miss you dearly. I have missed you dearly for all the time we have been apart." He pulls you closer to his heart, where your soul and his rests.

"Your soul that joins mine together like glue seems to be searching for its half. Even without my will, I end up looking for you. The thrumming anticipation in your blood today... I felt it. And for a moment, I had wanted to fall next to you."

Maedhros imagines your snarky remarks to his emotional words, but none of them feel right. How would you have reacted to his confession? He chuckles, imagining an overbearing look of ill-concealed pride. "I wasn't kind to you. I took your soul. Never once treated you the way my heart desired to. I never once told you how much your very presence fills me with love." All the moments of your time with him play before his eyes. Staring into the stars, he continues.

"I another lifetime...you must find me." He whispers into the tight embrace. "Find me in the form you have promised me. And then I will allow myself to love you...please," he begged.

"I will await you, with your soul and mine."

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Discovering Elrond is your soulmate would involve...

Elrond x reader. This fic is dedicated to the amazing @montyc.

*****

💑 It is said that soulmates are a gift from Eru, bestowed upon the first Elves who awoke at Cuiviénen so that they might find their match and immediately start populating Middle-Earth. From then on, almost every Elf has one, meant to pair each of them with their intended mate, the one they will -or at least should- be with forever.

💑 An Elf is already paired with their soulmate when they are born, but they can only discover their bond through physical contact. When this happens, a glyph appears on both of their bodies -the same, on the same place on their skin, different from that of every other couple on Arda- which allows them to recognize each other. It can be a handshake, a hug, a kiss, but also an accidental contact or even a slap or a fist to the stomach; the moment the two bodies even just brush against each other, the glyphs materialize... even though it may take a while for an Elf to notice, which can in turn make it more difficult to find its mate, especially if it appeared on a private part of the body.

💑 Soulmates have long been a subject of study for Elves. It is known that glyphs can only appear if the two soulmates' skin touch - not through clothes, or bandages, to say nothing of armor- that they turn black on the skin of an Elf whose soulmate has died, that in rare cases they can bring together three partners instead of two and that the only way to make them disappear is for the carrier to kill their soulmate... but no one has ever known, or written, whether Half-Elves have them or not.

💑 Elrond was first told about soulmates by Maglor -who still had not found his, and secretly suspected he simply did not have one- and Maedhros -whose glyph matched Fingon's- after he had already been parted from his parents, and because of this he never had the opportunity to ask them about it. Elros never had one, but he had chosen to be counted among the Edain and had married a mortal woman, which probably meant he would not have had one in the first place since soulmates are a prerogative of Elves alone.

💑 Even though he is fully immortal, Elrond has started to suspect the same fate of his brother awaits him, since technically he was not born an Elf but instead chose to be counted among them. Most Elves meet their match early in life, not rarely even before reaching adulthood and seldom, conversely, after their second or third century of existence - a threshold he has long left behind him.

💑 That does not necessarily mean anything, let alone that he is doomed to a loveless existence, and to remain alone and unhappy for the rest of his days. Not all pairs of soulmates find happiness -some die, or are otherwise separated from their partners, or are simply too different in spirit or character to make a good match, despite having been paired by Eru Himself- which means, consequently, that is also possible to find love without having one.

💑 Maybe somewhere there is an Elf destined to never carrry a glyph, because their intended partner is Elrond, a Half-Elf - which will make it infinitely more challenging for them to find each other, but still; maybe one day he will fall in love with one of the race of Men, like his brother did, and have a happy, loving, fulfilling relationship... doomed to end soon, since his partner will die and he will not. Or maybe he will find love, just not romantic love, and he will live the rest of his life surrounded by friends, finding fulfillment in his duties at court and other interests, and while he will never marry, or raise a family, that does not mean he will never feel happy, and at peace...

💑 Years pass. Decades pass. And then, just when his already meager hopes have started fading altogether and the mere sight of a couple walking arm in arm fills his heart with melancholic solitude, he meets you. Actually, the two of you already know each other; you are one of the many warriors at the service of the King, and you could not help meeting Elrond, who is his herald. You are not exactly friends, more good acquaintances, but you have a good opinion of each other: you never treated him differently because of his Half-Elven nature, and you admire his intelligence, kindness, even in the face of his detractors, and readiness to help whoever needs it, while he appreciates your bravery, already tested in many battles, and loyalty to the King, as well as the fact that you are one of the few warriors at court who never gets involved in brawls and is capable of, and even inclined to, solve their problems with words and not with their sword.

💑 He once during a ball invited you to dance, since you were the only lady left sitting (!) and you declined, since you were not his responsability, and the two of you then spent two hours happily chatting, sitting side by side. In an occasion you helped him carry a heavy heap of books he needed to write a speech for the King; a few weeks later he found your favourite dagger where you had lost it in the gardens, and brought it back to you. You think he is very handsome, especially when he smiles. He thinks you are lovely, especially when you wear that cape that makes the colour of your eyes stand out.

💑 You think well and like each other - at a distance, well enough to exchange a nod and a smile when your paths cross and to greet each other and make small talk during social occasions. But would you have ever expected to find out Elrond is your soulmate, or he, you? No, not even in a million years. Ad yet, this is exactly what happens.

💑 An ally of the kingdom has asked for help in the face of an invading army, and Gil-Galad has answered calling for a thousand soldiers to lead to war. You were, obviously, one of the first to volunteer, but you were surprised to learn Elrond would also join the expedition, not taking care of the wounded even though you knew he is a capable healer, but taking part in the fight together with the other warriors.

💑 "I am our lord's herald after all; it is my duty to be by his side, in war as well as in peace." he points out one day when you meet in the armory and you see him choosing a blade to bring to the front; he smiles "Are you surprised? I may not be as experienced a warrior as you are, but I have been trained, and I like to think I have some skills with a blade." You apologize for having underestimated him, and admit you have no reason to think he cannot fight only because the only talents of his you were aware of are of a more peaceful nature.

💑 "Maybe we will see each other on the battlefield, (name)?" "I doubt; I will be part of the third company, which means I will be fighting from the rear." you admit ruefully; this is due to strategic decisions, not to your battle talent or lack thereof, and you do not doubt you will see as much of the battle as any other soldier, but it would have been more honourable for a warrior to fight from, and be part of, the forefront, where the King himself will be leading the troops "But I wish you good luck, Elrond, truly; may we both survive unscathed, or otherwise may we nurse our wounds side by side." This is a common wish warriors exchange before battle; Elrond seems touched, and smiles to you -he has a very beautiful smile, you cannot helo but notice- before returning the sentiment.

💑 In the end, you do meet on the battlefield, even though at first you do not realize. As usual, the complex and attentive disposal of the troops planned by the King has dissolved into chaos, and warriors of different companies, including the riders forced to dismount after their horses had been killed, fight side by side, awkwardly attempting to follow some kind of strategy but reducing themselves to simply go on, stay alive, and kill as many foes as they can; including you. Three warriors wearing the colors of the enemy seem to spring out every time you best one, you have no idea where the comrades of your troop are -dead? Wounded and unconscious? Or simply pushed to the other side of the battlefield?- and moreover a strong wind has begun to blow, rising a veritable dust storm and making it even harder to distinguish who is in front of you, apart from the colour of their armor...

💑 It is then that you see him. Elrond has just vanquished two enemies, but he paid an heavy price for it; kneeling on the ground, propped on his blood-stained sword and his arm also shedding scarlet drops, he fights to breathe, aware that still and genuflect as he is he offers an easy target to any enemy, but he cannot help it, he just needs a moment... A moment to rest...

💑 That moment is almost too much, since an enemy soldier approaches and raises a sword against him; Elrond instinctively does the same to defend himself, already aware that it is too late, but another soldier intervenes, vanquishing the enemy in a few elegant blows. That soldier is you, who were nearby, saw a comrade about to be attacked and intervened to defend him.

💑 You cannot see his face, because of the helm he is wearing; he cannot see yours, because of the dust and the blood caking it. But he knows you are smiling, with your dirty armour and torn cape, as you offer him your hand, and take his and help him raise. "Brave heart, friend." you encourage him "This is not the day we are going to die."

💑 A moment later you lose him; and then the battle is won, and there are wounded to treat -Lindon's, your allies', and your enemies equally- and it is a whole day and a night later that you are back home, and you are free to disrobe and take a bath, and it is then that you notice something on your hip, under a tiny mole you had since you were born, close but untouched by an old battle wound. It is a glyph, small but clear against the colour of your skin.

💑 You have met your soulmate.

💑 You are sure the person responsible for it is the Elf whose life you saved and who you helped on his feet during the battle; the glyph was not there when you left for the battlefield, and while you might have touched other soldiers on that very day -passing the weapons along, helping the wounded on the back of their horses... not to mention the enemy warrior who, lost their weapon but determined to best you, attempted to throttle you with their bare hands- he is the only one you remember whose skin actually pressed against yours, without the barrier of clothes or armor... and more than anything else, you feel it. You are sure of it, just like you are sure of your name, with that simple, instinctive and chaste touch you awoke a bond that had laid dormant ever since the two of you were born, waiting.

💑 You still cannot believe it; you have never felt so excited, and at the same time more nervous and uncertain than now. Love and relationships, let alone marriage, are of little interest for many warriors, more attached to their weapons than to a spouse -"Do you know why a dagger is better than a wife? They can both procure me lunch, but my dagger does not expect a gift on its nameday." is a particularly popular, albeit tasteless, saying- but it has always been different for you, ever since you were a child and you listened to the story of the first encounter of your parents, whose first physical contact happened when your mother, a healer, gave the kiss of life to your father, who had accidentally fallen in a lake and almost drown. You never thought that devoting your life to arms meant renouncing love and family, and in the privacy of your heart you had always hoped you would one day meet your other half, the partner Eru had created for you...

💑 And finally it has happened!... even though you have no idea who he is, you reflect as you lie in the tub full of hot water, brushing your fingers against the glyph on your hip and wishing it were instead a name, perfectly readable, in the runes you have been taught when you were a child. You are sure the Elf you met during the battle is a male and, given the fact he wore the same armour as you, a subject of Lindon and not of the kingdom Gil-Galad had gone to the aid of, but beyond that, you know absolutely nothing about him! He might reside at court like you, or -more probably, since you know all the warriors who serve on the King's personal guard and are almost sure you must have touched each of them at some point- conversely he might live in one of the many villages in Lindon whose soldiers answered the call, some of which lie many days ride from the palace. He could be anywhere, and you have no way to find out who he is unless you begin scouring the whole kindom and asking to meet every single soldier who was there!

💑 Is this really it?, you wonder as you cross swords in the courtyard with the other warriors or enjoy a goblet of wine at the balcony of your room, admiring the sunset; you have met your soulmate, and then you have lost him, less than a minute later, and now you are doomed to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been had you had the chance to talk or to realize sooner what had happened? What sort of cruel joke is this? Is he also thinking about you? Has he realized his soulmate is the warrior who helped him during the battle? Is he happy about it? Is he also looking for you, even though you are almost sure in the state you were then, not even your mother could have recognized you? Or maybe he is happy, even relieved, because he is satisfied with his life as it already is, and has no interest in meeting you and discovering whether you are actually made for each other?

💑 Maybe he already has a partner. It is rare, but not unheard of, and it is known of people who found love and happiness after they lost their soulmate, whatever the reason, or even who rejected the bond to be with someone they had already met or simply because they were not happy with the person they were meant to be with. Having a soulmate does not authomatically translate to marital bliss, and not finding yours does not mean you have lost your only chance at love and happiness, but still...

💑 Still, it saddens you, and even if you do not expect to fall desperately in love as soon as you are face to face, nor to have him kneel and ask for your hand just after exchanging names, you wish you could meet him, even just once, or at least know his name...

💑 In those days you spend so deep in your thoughts you barely notice what is happening around you, you meet Elrond - once, in the library, where you have gone to fetch a book for your mother. As usual, you exchange greetings, and a smile; you are happy to see he survived the battle unscathed or almost, and he is kind enough to help you find the book you are looking for, since he knows the library like the palm of his hand. You do not reflect on the fact that since he was also on the battlefield that day and you do not remember ever touching him before, he could very well be the person you are looking for; and yet, he is.

💑 Just like you did, Elrond discovered his glyph after the battle; he had finished taking care of the wounded, he took off his tunic to bandage his arm... and then he noticed the glyph, peeking above the waistband of his trousers. Just like you, he realized the physical contact had to have happened during the battle, and the culprit was doubtlessly the warrior who had saved him during the few minutes he had spent alone, having gotten separated from the King. Just like you, he has absolutely no idea who that person is -he does not even know whether they are a male or a female, since he appreciates the company of both genders- and, as a consequence, how to find them.

💑 He should feel disheartened, even hopeless, but instead his heart is so full of excitation and enthusiasm, he can barely stay still; so what if he has to search through the whole kingdom to look for the partner Eru has chosen for him? So what if he knows absolutely nothing about them, including whether they are interested in a courtship... or already in one, or even married? He will find his soulmate, and ask for a possibility to turn that bond that had been chosen for them in a committed, voluntary relationship. And whatever happens from then on, he knows already he will not regret it.

💑 He is in luck, because he has to reflect on the best course of action only for a few days before the perfect idea hits him. Gil-Galad has decided to host a festival to celebrate the recent victory, and all the warriors who took part in the battle will be invited. Even though he is already so busy with his duties, and the task could easily be entrusted to the courts' scribes, Elrond volunteers to oversee the writing and the sending of the invitations, which he does, having them signed with his name... and with the glyph at the top of each sheet of parchment, as if it were a monogram. Soulmates glyphs are very diverse, with so many existing across all elvendom, and no one will realize what it actually is, except the soldier who carries its match on their body, and who will know that the person who drew it is Elrond! Then it will be up to the other person to act, revealing themselves or choosing not to, but still, he reflects as he sits at one of the desks in the library to begin copy the same short message over and over again, it is better than doing nothing and hope for a miracle.

💑 The next day, you are back at the library, returning the book your mother finished reading; you are in a horrible mood, since one of your dearest friends has just announced their engagement to their soulmate, who they easily found since their glyph had appeared on the back of their left hand. You are happy for your friend, but seeing them so happy and fulfilled with their soulmate has made you feel even more alone and frustrated, dejected in your desire to find your partner. You will have a few days of leave in a month, but they will not be enough to visit every village and town in the kingdom, not even a whole year would be; is your search really hopeless, doomed to fail even before you actually undertake it?

💑 You return the book to one of the librarians, and on your way out you pass next to the desk of one of the scribes, busy copying the invitations for the festival; they are an acquaintance of yours, so you stop to chat for a brief moment... and your eye is caught by the sheets of parchment on the desk - specifically, by the intricate symbol at the top of each of them.

💑 "(name)? Is something the matter?" the scribe asks, seeing you go pale in the face. You force yourself to nod and "What is this?" you ask, taking one of the sheets and pointing to the symbol; you cannot be mistaken, it is exactly the glyph that you are by now used to carry on your skin, proof of a bond you are intimately sure you will never have the chance to experience "Did you draw it? Did you... see it somewhere?" The scribe explains that they and their colleagues were specifically told to copy that symbol on each of the invitations for the festival, even though they have no idea what it means; it is probably just a seal that their overseer uses in his personal correspondence.

💑 He. "And... your overseer is...?", you ask, your heart in your throat. "It is Elrond, the King's herald. He offered to oversee the writing of the invitations himself; he insisted on signing each of them, and asked us to add that symbol on the top of each sheet, and made sure we could copy it properly. I really do not know why; he is the least self-important person I know. He was here until five minutes ago, but I think he was called to the gardens by the King... (name), wait! Where are you going? Give it back, please, I need to make eighty more copies already..."

💑 You barely listen to them as you run out of the library as if you had a balrog on your tail, clutching a copy of the invitation, with the glyph on top and Elrond's signature at the bottom, your heart beating so fast in your chest it hurts.

💑 Elrond. You felt discouraged thinking your soulmate might live at the other side of the kingdom, and instead, his rooms are less than thirty fathoms from yours! It is true that he is not formally part of the kingdom's army, but how could you not even consider him as you mentally listed all the male Elves you knew who had taken part in the battle but you had never touched until then? You spoke to him two days before leaving for the front!

💑 You keep calling yourself an idiot until you finally reach the gardens, where the King likes to spend some time when the weather is good. Sure enough, you soon spot Elrond, talking to Gil-Galad as the two unhurriedly walk next to a line of beautiful rose brushes, the fruit -or rather the flower?- of the efforts of the palace's gardeners. You wait anxiously for a while, hoping the King will soon dismiss his herald and at the same time fearing the moment you will be face to face with him. You have no need to talk to him to make sure of what you already know for sure in your heart; Elrond had the scribes add the glyph to each of the invitations together with his signature to let every single warrior in the kingdom, including his soulmate, know he was looking for them. A clever stratagem, but superfluous all the same, and there is no need to send those invitations, because you are there already, you are his soulmate, and he is yours, and the thought to face him, even though you have known each other for decades, makes your legs tremble...

💑 What will he think when he discovers you are his soulmate? Will he be happy, surprised, or disappointed? Will he think you are too different in character and personality to get along as more than acquaintances? Whatever it is going to be, you will find out now, because Elrond has been dismissed by the King, and is now walking away to return to the palace... which brings him face to face with you, silently standing next to a bench.

💑 "Good afternoon, (name), how are you?" he pleasantly greets you, but the friendly smile on his face quickly disappears as he realizes how upset you look... and then he sees you wordlessly unfold the sheet of parchment in your hands. He stops when he is a step away from you; for a whole minute neither of you utters a word.

💑 "It is you." "Yes. It is me." you needlessly confirm, and the emotion filling your heart is finally close to overflow. You are not magically falling in love with him in the space of a second, like some swear happens to couples who become aware of their bond or meet for the first time, but you look at Elrond, and maybe you are just letting yourself get carried away, but you feel as if you were finally able to breathe after having held your breath for so long, or if you finally met someone you had missed without even knowing of their existence. You feel ready to cry, but you are happy; half of you wants to run away, as far and fast as you can, and the other wants to experience that moment to the fullest, like a goblet of fine wine... or a kiss.

💑 In the end you do cry, which is something you have always hated to do in front of other people, but Elrond does not seem inclined to judge you, especially because he seems as moved as you are; spontaneously, without any embarrassment, you embrace each other, Elrond's arms holding you by the waist as you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You both weep, and hold each other, experiencing that moment which is overwhelming in its sweetness, joyous and terryfing at the same time.

💑 "I must first of all thank you for saving my life." Elrond says in the end; he quietly proposed to talk as you walked in the gardens, an offer you happily accepted "Were it not for you, I would not be here now." "Which makes me even happier to have been there when you needed me; there is no need for thanks." you sincerely answer "So... we are soulmates. Is it... strange, for you?"

💑 Elrond admits it was unexpected, but not because, he quickly adds, he finds the idea of the two of you together absurd; he is... flattered, actually, and happy. He thinks you are beautiful, and there are so many things he likes about you... and he hopes you are not disappointed either, finding out he is your match. "Absolutely not; I think you are very handsome, and I have always thought highly of you." you quickly reassure him; normally you would not have been able to compliment someone so brazenly without blushing furiously, but Elrond is different... you feel at ease next to him, as if you were old friends and not just good acquaintances. It is nice; it is beautiful, and he is as well, with his sweet smile and his luminous and expressive eyes "I was just... afraid. And I still am, to be honest. Elrond... you are an herald, I am a warrior; I have dedicated my life to martial arts and the defense of my kingdom, while you are a cultured Elf, a diplomat, a scholar. Do you think we can... get along, even though we are as different as day and night?"

💑 It is painful to express your fear, especially while you are enjoying Elrond's company more than you have ever done, but you want him to know, because you feel -and what an unpleasant sensation it is!- that if you discover you have too little in common to work as a couple after you have spent time together and you had the opportunity to develop an affection to him, it will break your heart; it that is destined to happen, it is best to break things immediately.

💑 Elrond does not dismiss your fears, nor does he tries to reassure you as if you were a child, which you appreciate; he reflects for a while as you walk, alone for the first time in your lives as the sun bathes the garden in the golden light of the midmorning. "No one can foresee what the future holds for us, especially when feelings are concerned; it does not matter how carefully we make plans, I doubt it might help us avoid future complications or disagreements." he softly points out in the end "And being similar in temperament, occupation or interests does not necessarily ensure harmony. If anything, I wager I would find it incredibly boring to live side by side with someone who thinks, feels and acts exactly as I do; we would have nothing to learn from each other, and it would be equal to spend time by ourselves."

💑 "I think the same." "Ah, not a good start." Elrond states, making you laugh. "But you are right. I do not want to think we have so little in common we cannot even find something to talk about or to do together, and that does not mean we could not fall... develop feelings from each other, does it? My parents have different opinions and tastes about many things, but they learnt to love that about each other, and to make their differences balance them out. I just... I never though I would be able to do the same, and not for lack of will; or that I would find someone ready to do it for me."

💑 Elrond keeps silent for a moment; then he stops, and he turns, and he gently offers you his hand to take, and when you do you feel your eyes filling with tears again, but the feeling is much clearer and more definite than the one that wracked your heart a few minutes ago: a sweet, comforting joy, the certainty to be safe, and that whatever danger or problem you will meet, you will not have to face it alone.

💑 "I am sorry, maybe I am being too... too forward." you stammer, intimidated by his gaze, so deep, piercing and wise; you have never cowed in fear on the battlefield, but being close to Elrond makes you feel... small, vulnerable, as if your emotions were as visible as the words on the pages of a book. You must admit, it is quite pleasant "And we should get to know each other before discussing about the future..." "No." Elrond quickly stops you; he moves to face you once more, and he takes your hand in both of his; you can feel the warmth and the generous, comforting light emanating from his person, and this is when you start loving him, even though just platonically - for now "(name), I... I do not know what will happen in the future, but one thing I am sure of: you are brave, loyal, generous... Any Elf, any creature in Arda would be blessed to earn your love, and if that Elf ended up being... me... well, I do not think I would ever want for anything else."

💑 "I do not deserve all of this, Elrond." you answer in a whisper; you are forced to, because the emotion has choked your voice, and there is so little you know about him, but suddenly you know that whatever you may discover in the future, the good and even the bad, will be marvelous "I... I do not know if I will ever fall in love with you, this is not something you can force..."

💑 He reassures you, saying that since fortunately no law forces two soulmates to marry or even to begin courting, you can do things in your own time, learn to know each other and unhurriedly decide whether to part and never speak again, remain friends... or else. You can begin by spending some time together... maybe with a ride, that night? And then dinner? You think it is a splendid idea, and happily agree, and a beautiful, relieved smile appears on Elrond's mouth.

💑 You need both to return to your duties, but just as you are about to say goodbye to each other, Elrond's expression turns serious. "I know it goes against everything we just agreed, but there is something important you must know, even before we decide if we can be friends." he explains, so serious it scares you; what terrible secret is he about to reveal? "I am a Half-Elf. I am immortal, as you are, but that means that if I ever have children, they will also have to make a choice, and..."

💑 "I understand. And... I am fine with it." you reassure him; the idea to see your children pass away, even now that their very existance is only a remote possibility, is a terrible prospect, but you do not want to let fear decide for you "We agreed to do things in our own time, so... I think I should also leave my children the freedom to live their life as they want, whatever the consequences. Do you wish for children, Elrond?" "I think I do. Some day." he answers, and you both smile, as you unknowingly try to imagine what a child born from the two of you would look like. It would be nice, you think, if they inherited Elrond's smile, and his warm eyes. You feel happy, and hopeful, and excited, and all thanks to the handsome, kind Elf in front of you. "Then... until tonight, Elrond."

💑 "Until tonight, (name)." he answers; he takes your hand once more, and when his lips brush against the back, you feel a jolt of warmth spread through your body. Your gaze meets Elrond's, his smile revealing how aware he is of the effect he has on you "I look forward to it."

TAGGING @starlady66 and @elvenenby .

[felagund-the-valiant]

A Heavy Crown - Fingon x f!reader

The newly crowned High-King still mourns his father.

Words: 992

Tags: hurt/comfort, mention of canon character death

A/N: somehow i never gave much thought to how fingon must’ve felt after taking on his father’s crown. once i did i got hit in the feels and not in a good way :/

The sky was a brooding grey, it was only a matter of time before rain would start to pour down. You stood next to Fingon, posture straightened, chin held high and let your eyes wander over the crowd of nobles assembled in the throne room. Some of your husband‘s Fëanorian cousins were attending, no doubt due to pressure from their eldest brother.

 Your crowns were beautiful – full of intricate details and shining gems, their golden hue matching effortlessly with the golden bands Fingon always braided into his hair. The speech he had prepared was moving.

He spoke in a firm voice about not losing hope in these dark times and how Elves and Men alike could count on him to do everything in his power to help rebuild all that was scorched by the dragon’s fell fire. Right now, it seemed like an immeasurably burdensome task of who knew how many long years, but Fingon had a way with words that made you want to believe in him and share his optimism.

In the beginning, it had surprised you how fast he could switch between easy-going jokester and rallying commander and as time went on it became one of the features you admired most about him.

Fingon’s oldest cousin Maedhros was the first to receive the two of you after the official part of the ceremony was over and it was time to mingle and pay respects. The two men hugged tightly, their close friendship having long been restored after all the strife between their respective houses.

Maedhros didn’t make any moves to hug you and instead bowed and smiled politely. You didn’t hold it against him, you knew that even though you had known him for a long time, physical touch still didn’t come easy to him after his time in Angband.

Of course there was a formal exchange of words as well, Maedhros swearing loyalty to the new High-King and Queen, expressing willingness for future cooperation and the like. You lost count of how many nobles you had talked to during the day and didn’t even remember most of their faces at this point. It was evident that Fingon was becoming more and more tense and even though he tried to cover it up, he could never hope to hide the storm brewing beneath the surface from you.

You tugged his sleave gently. “Let’s retire for the night, hm?” you suggested, and he nodded curtly, evidently relieved by your initiative. You followed him to stand before your thrones and announced that the two of you were retiring for now. More informal celebrations would take place tomorrow. There was polite applause and scattered calls of Long live the King and Queen! as you both left the grand hall.

You closed the door to your shared chambers behind you and watched Fingon slowly walk towards the bed. He collapsed onto it and let out a little sniffle, the tears he had held back all day finally rolling down his face. Gently plucking the crown off his head before taking off your own, you set them aside on the nightstand and joined him on the bed.

Seeing your beloved like this was beyond distressing. The deep sorrow was such a sharp contrast to his usual bright optimism. “Is there something I can do?” you asked hesitantly.

Fingon let out a shaky breath. “Can you … hold me?” he asked almost timidly, and you opened your arms for him without thinking, pulling him closer. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling a quiet thank you. You gently ran your fingers across his scalp, hoping the sensation would help sooth him.

After a while his sobs died down and only the occasional sniffle was left. “I don’t want to be king,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. You knew he didn’t really mean it. Your husband had never had a problem with assuming leadership, but this was different. Your coronation had made it official. His father was no more and there was no more hiding in denial. Fingon had loved his father deeply (a trait that seemed to unite the entire House of Finwë) and his death had broken a part of him that you weren’t sure could ever be fixed.

Naturally, you mourned the loss of your father-in-law as well, but you knew your own pain could never compare to your husband’s.

“I know,” you said quietly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, burying your face in his dark hair.

There wasn’t even a body to bury. You still vividly remembered the quiet ceremony Fingon had held to honour his father. Standing in front of an empty grave, banners solemnly waving in the wind, speaking praises of his father’s valiant deeds and how the Noldor had lost their greatest king on that grim day.

Fingon withdrew from your embrace a little, so you were face to face again. He cupped your cheek in his hand, letting his thumb caress the soft skin. His face was still stained with dried tears, but his eyes had regained some of their spark. “Thank you for being by my side,” he whispered, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You covered his hand with yours and gave it a little squeeze. “Don’t you ever worry about losing me. You’ll always have your queen by your side, this I swear to you,” you said in a firm voice and watched with joy as a little smile graced his features.

“I love you so much, meleth,” he said with a relieved sigh and leaned forward to kiss you. “I love you, too,” you replied and happily let him pull you closer, snuggling into his chest.

You knew such simple words could never heal the gaping wound in your beloved’s heart, but you hoped that over time, it would become a soothing reminder that he was never truly alone in his suffering.