#meladriel

[saintstars]

Doomed At First Sight

READ THE FIC HERE

for @tolkienrsb now this one went through a whole journey with @niennawept because originally it was just that middle vision you see above the loom but then she told me about this beautiful moment in the fic and I just had to overhaul it to fit what they'd come up with - also I'm never against drawing more gorgeous women.

Vision 1. Vision 2. Vision 3. (NSFW)

[imakemywings]

For the femslash writing, a Meladriel would spark so much joy 💛

Alright, this will be the last fill for the month (and a day late whoopsie)

I think the power plays Galadriel pushes these two into make for such an interesting dynamic. This fulfills the "euphoria" square of FotF's Pride month bingo (I think).

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Pairing: Galadriel x Melian

Length: 3k

Summary: Galadriel is determined to show Melian she is capable of more than Melian believes. Melian wonders if her pupil grasps her lessons.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

The Patience of the Oak

The resistance of Melian’s mind was as the howling of the winds storming the Helcaraxë. Galadriel wobbled upon a hair’s breadth of solidity beneath her feet, as though she were up in the flexible treetops amid the crack of thunder, or balanced upon some high-flung crossbeam of a ship at sea. If she did not keep her balance, she would fall. If she did not keep her focus, she would be lost, swept out into the ether of those winds.

Still, she pushed forward.

That she could do so at all was a riot of triumph; half of her had expected to get nowhere at all, and while the force of Melian send her skidding backwards, it did not drive her out entirely.

In the physical world, she was only most distantly aware of her fingers clenched around the edge of the table, of her toes digging into the floor until the joints ached. There was no space in her consciousness for the physical now; there was only the vastness of Melian’s mind and the determination of Galadriel’s spirit to know it.

In her own strength, in her conviction, Galadriel had confidence; Melian believed her feebler and more delicate than she was in truth, but Galadriel could show her her error.

The wind blew harder, a silent roar in the blackness through which Galadriel could feel the shine of light from those things she wished to know, those repositories of Melian’s knowledge and power. She stretched herself out towards them, reaching, reaching, reaching, and with another extension of herself, tried to ward off that part of her mind so keen to liken this experience to the terror of a blizzard (She, unlike her sentimental siblings and cousins, would not fall prey to dwelling on the death of Elenwë, lost in just such a storm). The more she allowed those thoughts to enter her mind, the greater risk they would sink their roots in, reshaping this experience into that one, and Galadriel did not want the dual struggle of fighting to reach her goal and not to be overwhelmed by her own past.

There, just ahead of her, a softly glowing center of thought; Galadriel, so near to her goal, surged forward with renewed energy in spite of the flagging of her strength; she did not mean to take yet, only to touch, to show Melian she could—

      That’s enough, I think. Melian’s voice sounded faintly amused and not altogether unannoyed, as one whose pet is both bothersome yet entertaining. Like a flick of her fingers, Melian snapped Galadriel out of her mind, flinging her fully back into the physical realm, and Galadriel staggered away from the table, stumbling over her feet until she landed hard on her seat, sucking in air like a winded horse.

The smoothness of the wood on the table did not allow Galadriel to do much damage to her hands, but her fingers ached from gripping it, and deprived now of the ecstasy of struggle and success, the full measure of her exhaustion came upon her, and she slumped down to the floor, hair strewn about her, and slept.

***

In the garden, Melian waited. Galadriel had felt her call earlier in the day, but forced herself not to rush. With care she dressed and arranged her hair in a neutral style and sipped weak wine as she reassured herself no damage had been done. Standing now upon the threshold of the eastern Jewel Garden, characterized by riotous bursts of a rainbow of fruits and flowers, she smoothed her skirts and lived in the final moments before having to face up to the queen’s displeasure. In her mind, she rehearsed the many words she had prepared for this meeting, but when she came near and met Melian’s night-dark eyes, those thoughts ran wild and she fought desperately to rein them back in.

“So, my pupil—”

Galadriel did not mean to interrupt, but the amok words burst through her teeth before she could swallow them.

“You underestimate my strength!”

Melian fell silent, those dark eyes sweeping up and down from the thrust of Galadriel’s chin to where her toes dug into the grass. She set aside the pomegranate she had been picking over when Galadriel arrived (Melian did not need to eat, but playing with the food of the Elves seemed to entertain her; she would leave the seeds out for someone or something else to claim.) Galadriel held open the curtains of her mind, inviting Melian inward, to show how little she had to hide from her teacher.

Melian wore the form of the Elves, as was her pleasure, and on that day gleamed in carnation yellow, her sleek black hair drawn away from her face with crisp white deer-bone clasps, a gift of the king.

“It is a particular kind of pride, to receive a gift and demand only more,” the queen remarked, and Galadriel drew in a painfully sharp breath. Now in the moment, now with Melian’s low, musical voice picking apart the flaws in her, the shortcomings in her behavior, it seemed foolish to tell herself her tutelage with Melian was not potentially on the line. But she could not now contemplate being exiled from Melian’s presence, or she would falter.

“I respect the extent of my teacher’s knowledge,” said Galadriel, lowering her head. “Had I no curiosity in it, we would never have begun this. Is it not natural I should wish for more?”

“That for which you wish and that of which you are capable do not always resonate,” said Melian. “As we have discussed before.”

Galadriel looked up without thinking, to fix Melian with an expression of helpless desire.

“And still I protest,” she said, straining to keep her voice even. “I am capable of more than my teacher believes.”

“Young you are still, and—”

“I am not a child!” Galadriel insisted urgently. “Horrors have I seen as well, teacher, and much did I overcome to make it to your doorstep. I am strong enough for what you may impart!” When Melian did not immediately respond, Galadriel could not restrain herself from adding: “Much more do you show Lúthien. Is it because I am no daughter of yours that I am not worth  more?”

 “You are not like Lúthien,” said Melian. “She who bears my blood is no Elf, though she may in face and body resemble her father. She is unique, and better able to grasp my knowledge and my power.”

“You have not faith in me,” Galadriel concluded, casting her eyes down unto the ground in tense despair.

“Had I not faith in you, we would not stand here now,” said Melian, rising to her full and considerable height. Again, Galadriel lowered her head. “Still I once more counsel you to restraint. Lúthien, besides being my daughter, has many more years to her name than you. She has had more time to learn and to develop her patience. Yet as I have said, your potential is strong. But you will squander it and turn to cruder, lesser matters than you might if you do not exercise care.”

Melian drifted around her, pale feet sliding noiselessly through the grass, her fingers brushing over the boughs and flowers that surrounded them.

“I feel your hunger, daughter of Eärwen,” she murmured. “Never do I touch your mind but I feel it. Already you have shown greater restraint than others may have. Yet I would look for more.” Even behind her, out of sight, Galadriel could picture, could feel Melian so clearly it was as if she looked upon her. “Those most eager warrant the most caution.”

Galadriel held her tongue and remained still until Melian came back into her sight. The queen did not touch her; never had Galadriel seen her touch another but the king or the princess, and those rare times when she laid her hands on Galadriel for a lesson.

There was more that Melian could have said, that she must know, but she did not, and Galadriel was relieved.

“What is it you desire from me, child?” Melian asked, and Galadriel seemed to feel her words as much as hear them. Her eyes darted up to Melian’s oval-shaped face, divine in her beauty, distant even in her nearness. “My power? Or something more tangible?”

Galadriel’s legs felt weak. The beat of her blood was too loud in her ears.

“I…desire…whatever my teacher would give me,” she said, speaking with markedly slow deliberation.

“You ask for things you do not understand,” Melian said.

“I know my strength,” Galadriel insisted, meeting Melian’s gaze directly. Melian held it, tilting her head slightly, observing, observing. Then she turned away.

“Your inability to admit or recognize your limitations tells me I have been right to maintain the pace we are at,” said the queen, and Galadriel’s gut turned to ice. “You have not yet the maturity for more.” She made to walk away, and Galadriel should have been grateful that Melian was not going to punish her for the invasion of her mind—though she knew now she had gotten as far as she had only because it had amused Melian to see how far she could push against the queen’s half-hearted resistance—but all that consumed her mind was the intolerableness of Melian’s dismissal.

In desperation, she threw up her hands and a bubble of silence ensconced them both; within the bulb of Galadriel’s power the birds hung still in the air, the beetles froze midflight; the wind did not sway the leaves. Slowly, Melian turned back to her.

“I am more capable than you acknowledge,” Galadriel said, straining to speak with so much of her focused on maintaining her spell. “I am a princess of the Noldor, a Calaquendi of the Blessed Realm, a daughter of the houses of Finwë and of Olwë. I have gazed upon the light of the Trees and I have sat at the foot of Manwë and Elbereth Gilthoniel. I have crossed the Helcaraxë. I have fought the forces of Morgoth Bauglir. I am not a child, nor an ignorant. I am not careless, nor incapable.”

Melian made a turn of the extent of Galadriel’s spell while she sweated to keep it up. The queen touched the birds, the bugs where they dangled midair, aware or unaware of their imprisonment.

“Remarkable,” she said, and through the burning of Galadriel’s straining body, she almost smiled.

Melian waved her hand and Galadriel’s spell burst apart, returning the denizens of Doriath to their freedom. Galadriel panted and bent forward, her face hot with exertion.

“You would do better not to trap things so idly,” the queen remarked lightly. Her eyes flashed over to Galadriel’s face. “It has never been your power I doubted, my pupil.” Melian came to her then, and she smelled even at a distance of the onset of rain, so that to breath her in was as if to stand amidst a gathering storm.

Melian reached out, and with her fingertips, she touched Galadriel’s face, tilting it up towards her. A spidery hand crept over her cheek, her nose, her mouth.

“What a fascinating spirit yours is,” she murmured, and as nearly always, her expression was inscrutable. Galadriel did not dare reach out to Melian’s mind now, but she made a slight opening of her own. “Is this truly what you desire?”

“Yes,” Galadriel breathed. “Greatly have I desired this.” It was no good to lie to Melian now; even if she had kept her mind closed, it seemed she had made herself too plain. Lying to herself was a far simpler task than lying to Melian.

“Very well, then. Let us explore.” Melian leaned in, and Galadriel felt the prickle of electricity along her arms and down her back before Melian’s lips touched hers.

The wind was back, but this time it drew Galadriel in rather than pushed her out; she was wrapped up in the maelstrom, that electricity surging through her until her nerves were alight and her lungs breathless. The queen’s mouth was cool and wet against hers, and despite Galadriel’s height, she had to push up on her toes to seek a deeper kiss. All around her was the presence of Melian and that crisp-rain smell filled up her senses; she curled her hands at her sides to stop herself from grabbing at the queen for stability as the presence of Melian bore down on her.

And then she swooned.

***

When Galadriel opened her eyes, she saw the layered canopy of Doriath undulating in the wind above her, and amidst the green, Melian’s face, from below. Immediately she moved to sit up, but she felt drained, not unlike her weariness of the day before, and Melian placed a hand on her forehead to hold her in place.

“Take a moment, Arwen,” she said. She looked down, and smiled, and Galadriel stilled. “I did warn you.”

Galadriel’s eyes fluttered shut in chagrin, but only for a moment, as she did not wish to deprive herself much of the sight of Melian looking on her with such fondness.

“Elwë fainted in the beginning as well,” Melian reflected. “Before we had learned how to be with each other.” This made Galadriel only more determined to prove that she too, could learn to be with a Maia. She wondered how long it had taken Melian to learn to moderate her strength with an Elf. “Shall I take you back to your rooms?”

“No,” Galadriel managed. Her mind felt fuzzy as if from a long sleep, or too much wine. She could not tell if Melian was still in her thoughts or not. “I wish to…remain.”

Melian hummed an agreement and stroked a hand through Galadriel’s golden hair.

“But you should rest,” said the queen. “And do not rush.” Despite her will—or perhaps in service of another desire—Galadriel’s eyes slid shut and her mind focused the more on the touch of Melian’s hand.

“I am capable,” she insisted quietly. “I can learn whatever lessons you would teach me, Your Grace. I will make myself learn them.”

“This I know,” said Melian. “I would not have taken it upon myself to teach you if I did not believe in your abilities. Yet you are young—no child, by the measure of Elves, I know—but young still, and impatient. You would rush headlong from one thing to another without truly understanding either. And I would see you cultivated with more care. Do you not trust me as your teacher, Arwen?”

Now Galadriel needed to pause and consider, for Melian made valid argument: She believed in Galadriel’s ability to learn, and so had taken Galadriel as her student. But why had Galadriel taken Melian as her teacher if she did not believe in Melian’s ability to teach?

Ah, Melian called again on her pride—daring Galadriel to say she believed that she knew better than Melian the pace and scope by which her lessons ought to progress.

A part of her wished to groan; the better part was more concerned with the presence of her head in Melian’s lap, and the queen’s graceful hand on her head. She could almost forget she had come here for a scolding.

“I am tired,” she murmured. “I trust you, teacher.”

“After your expenditures the last forty-eight hours, I am not surprised,” Melian said, again sound amused in spite of Galadriel’s rather inappropriate behavior.

“I wish only that you should know I may understand you.” Melian hummed something neither fully agreement nor disagreement and stroked Galadriel’s hair again.

“In stillness, one may come to know the forest,” she remarked after a long silence. “But without patience and quietude, much will go unobserved and unknown. My lessons for you are not only in the realm of magic and of wills.”

If she were less worn out, Galadriel might have found it in herself to be embarrassed to realize Melian had been trying to temper her impatience from the start.

“Forgive me, teacher,” she said without opening her eyes. “There is much you know that I wish to know also.”

“And much you will know, in time,” Melian said. “A sapling cannot know the truths of the oak without the will of time.”

Now Galadriel made a soft noise not quite a groan and turned her face more to Melian’s lap, which she supposed was hardly more improper than her presence there already, which Melian had created herself.

“You need not drive yourself so hard,” Melian said gently, her nails scraping lightly over Galadriel’s scalp. “Forget not the value in rest, and slow progress. As long as I stand, you will be safe here. Accept this gift I give, and the time which it grants.” Galadriel relaxed her shoulders and breathed in the sharp rain-scent of Melian.

“Shall I sing to you, dear?” the queen asked.

Galadriel mumbled her agreement, and Melian smiled. Carding her fingers through Galadriel’s hair, she set to warbling a tune about the wind whistling through the treetops and a robin looking for shelter. In the clear ringing of Melian’s voice, Galadriel could understand how one might forsake Eldamar to linger a little while more in the reach of her song. It seemed to soothe away Galadriel’s fears and anxieties, and yet to open her to wonders of the world ‘til then unknown to her. While Melian’s voice washed over her, she seemed to sink into new communion with the woods around them, as if through Melian those other things reached out to her: the moles in their burrows and the squirrels in their trees and the moss creeping over the rocks and the worms tunneling underneath. Melian was a part of it, and it was a part of her, and she drew Galadriel into this world which she otherwise touched only through a veil.

Yet it did not alleviate her exhaustion, and to the sound of Melian’s singing, with the queen’s thigh beneath her head and her hand in her hair, Galadriel slept.

[melestasflight]

What is it you desire from me, child?

I desire... whatever my teacher would give me

a little Melian/Galadriel mood board inspired by @imakemywings's gorgeous and magical story The Patience of the Oak

[unendingwanderlust]

TITLE: Deliberate RATING: E WARNINGS: None RELATIONSHIPS: Galadriel/Melian WORD COUNT: 1184

SUMMARY: Sitting down for supper tomorrow is going to be excruciating, but Galadriel is going to have to grin and bear it. Otherwise, she will have to confess the reason why she is squirming in her seat.

What Galadriel will never confess, however, not even under threat of torture or death, is that she messed up on purpose so that she would receive Melian’s punishment...

READ ON AO3

[niennawept]

Freaky Friday~

Kinktober is upon us soon, so let's get some good vibes going!

Share a snippet/sneak peek from a freaky WIP or a project you recently worked on and tag your fellow smut connoisseurs to see what everyone's been up to. Enjoy the spice and happy creating!

Tagged by the lovely @cilil; thank you. You made me dust off this old WIP that I haven't touched in a long while.

Tagging without pressure: @fishing4stars, @mikathemonster, @runawaymun, @somebirdortheother, @lady-of-imladris

Below the cut: Melian/Galadriel, mild bath-based spice

“The greater your influence the more people will seek to do so. You cannot hide behind being the youngest daughter of the youngest son forever. They will not underestimate you for much longer. Indeed, the change has already begun. You have great insight, but you must find a different way to disarm them,” Melian answered, her hands working the fine-milled soap into lather against Galadriel’s scalp. It smelled of honey and of meadows of wildflowers in spring and felt hopelessly luxurious after several weeks on the road; she found herself leaning into it, abandoning any sense of propriety. “I think you are trying to illustrate your point even now.” Melian’s clever fingers stilled and a note of mirth colored her tone. “I was not suggesting you lull them into false security with creature comforts, although it is certainly one among several viable strategies.” She resumed her massage, perhaps more sensually than before, the very action belying her placating words. “Think, my dear.” “I cannot focus and you know well why.” Galadriel met her lady’s eye sharply. “Perhaps, we can revisit this lesson when I am less … preoccupied.” “Perhaps you should learn to think clearly even when you are preoccupied,” Melian teased, even as she pressed closer, fanning again the low-burning flame of desire.

[swanmaids]

f/f silmarillion rec list

for femslash february and inspired by @imakemywings, here’s some of my favourite f/f silmarillion fics. a range of ratings and pairings. i’m an adult who likes adult and dark content and some of these are on the dark side, so read individual warnings <3

it’s just a consequence of pain by roquen - g, 914 words, indis/miriel therinde

indis visits the house of vaire.

Scene by Candle-Light

by Elleth, m, 1761 words,

aerin/morwen

Sometimes Aerin comes to Morwen for comfort.

The Sorceress’ Apprentice by LiveOakWithMoss, g, galadriel/melian

From her mother, Galadriel had learned grace, composure, and how to veil the teeth of diplomacy in silk and soft words. From her grandmother, she learned when to bare those teeth. From her cousin she learned the value of will and the power of independence.

Her ambition was her own, and carefully stoked.

(And from Melian she learned nothing at all.)

Waking Night by anthean, t, 895 words, luthien/thuringwethil

Give me back my skin, elf.

A Weird and Wonderful Fruit by @imakemywings, e, galadriel/haleth/melian

Haleth was told to stay out of the woods of Doriath. Haleth decided not to listen. Haleth finds herself in strange positions in the darkness of the woods...

Not by the Hand of Man by Sath, e, 6911 words, tar-miriel/ofc

After his chief priestess is assassinated, Sauron summons his most powerful servant, a woman of Far Harad, to Númenor.

(but two wives can have each other) by ambrorussa, m, 1082 words, erendis/uinen

Erendis seeks to destroy her heart, so the Sea swallows her whole.

we bear no fruits by Ias, m, 3397 words, haleth/thuringwethil

A dark journey needs a dark guide. Haleth strikes a deal.

our bones only ache while the flesh is on them by Ias, t, 874 words, galadriel/melian

There is a reason that Galadriel no longer eats meat.

down in a shallow grave by Solanaceae, t, 652, aredhel/goldberry

Their first mistake is that they bury you by the river.

in your very own symphony by kimaracretak, m, 1487, aredhel/thuringwethil

be careful what you hunt. or don’t.

Excerpt from Untold Tales of the Maiar by Mithen, t, 542 words, luthien/thuringwethil

Thuringwethil offered to give Luthien her form freely--for a small price.

certain dark things by northerntrash, t, 9487 words, luthien/thuringwethil

In which Lúthien seeks a monster, but finds something else.

Kiss My Mouth Through Thorns by Elleth, m, 500 words, galadriel/melian

Melian finds herself besotted with her student.

Webs and Weavings by Lorinand_Lost, e, 5153 words, vaire/ungoliant/varda/miriel therinde

"What do you intend to hold in that basket?" the voice is quiet, coming from somewhere in the shadows.  

Vairë pauses in her work, tufts of dry rushes clutches in her brown, sun-spotted hands.  She bends her mind forward, and the presence against which she brushes is unknown to her - she, who ought to recognize and name every creature and thing and its history.

"I intend it to hold all things, for I see all things," Vairë replies.  "What do you intend to do there in the shadows, one who I cannot see?"

A House of Nettles by Ias, e, 6494 words, eowyn/tar-miriel

Éowyn is not healed. Inside of her, something hungry lives on.

[polutrope]

Thoughts on Melian/Galadriel?

Most canon-adjacent F/F ship imo, chiefly because of this quote. I know it could be done quite darkly (power imbalance, Melian's kinda dodgy approach to romance) but I think it's actually quite sweet. I can see Galadriel being a little obsessed with Melian, but I don't think Melian would abuse that.

Also, was discussing with someone the other day: where are the Celeborn/Galadriel/Melian/Thingol fics at because I need that OT4 yesterday.

[klngfili]

[aredhels]

dearest writer, when can we be blessed with a piece of your writing. we longingly wait and hope you're in good health

- the ton

hello 💓 soon! very soon, i hope!

[arofili]

@finweanladiesweek day three | aredhel and galadriel | melian x galadriel

Therefore [Galadriel] remained in the Hidden Kingdom, and abode with Melian, and of her learned great lore and wisdom concerning Middle-earth.

—The Silmarillion, “Of the Return of the Noldor”

[avoyagetoarcturus]

Melian and Galadriel, Bronze Age Celtic edition

I'll submit this for Silmladylove's day 12 for the theme of "leader," because they're both powerful leaders.

[saintstars]

Farewell

Close up of one of the visions from this painting for @tolkienrsb

The actual original painting I submitted for it that then grew beautifully beyond my control listening to @niennawept’s brilliant ideas

[imakemywings]

A lot of femslash fics are bite-sized. And those are fun! But sometimes you want a fic to really sink your teeth into. So here are a handful of Tolkien femslash fics that are at least 4k words in length.

Come Home to Chaos (Get a Crush On a Queen) by ncfan - 8.5k - Arwen/Firiel of Gondor - Arwen came home to Imladris at the end of winter, and found her home in chaos. 

Do I Hurt To Hold? by Anonymous - 5.2k - Galadriel/Melian - Melian makes her a promise: “I will train you. For one year, you will be mine. Your power—your body, mind, and spirit—will be mine. And by the end of that year, you will be stronger than you could possibly imagine.”

It's the Secret That We Keep by Loriand_Lost - 17.7k - Galadriel/Luthien - In Doriath, Galadriel meets the love of her life.  She also meets another of her great loves - the Princess Luthien, daughter of Melian the enchantress and skilled in her own right.

Little Tenderness by batshape - 4.1k - f!Feanor/Nerdanel - Istarnië, she had said, and again and again. Istarnië, Istarnië. I can beg.

The Nameless Black of a Name by Ias - 8.1k - Finduilas/Nienor - The body which lies beneath the Haudh-en-Elleth does not have a name. Finduilas wanders the wilderness in its stead, and there meets someone as lost as she is. 

need a bad girl ('cause the bad boys just don't cut it) (series) by @swanmaids​  - 5k - Curufin’s wife/Luthien - a prisoner, her jailer, and a knife.

of all the stars, the fairest by whatiwouldnotgive - 7.2k - Arwen/Eowyn - And with that, the pieces of this fanciful puzzle they’ve been creating fall into place.  It’s the turning of a page, the changing of a season. Eowyn could laugh, giddily, at how foolish they’ve both been.  

Quicksilver by clothono - 26.4k - Indis/Miriel - "Míriel has recovered herself," Indis said. "She has rested long and well in the Halls of Mandos, and misses now the craft of her hands, the light of the Trees—have I guessed right?"

Scraps of dark in a starstrewn night by Solanaceae - 5.2k - Luthien/Thuringwethil -    Thuringwethil sees the outline of the hook and rises still to the bait, unable to resist the provocation. “Prove yourself worthy of my help." // Luthien tells a story to earn Thuringwethil's aid. 

What the Waver Gave Me by me! - 27k - Finduilas/Nienor - Finduilas had never thought she had been saved for a reason, until she found the woman in the river.

Happy reading! ♪(´▽｀)

[apaleflame]

melian: i love my tiny girlfriend

galadriel: i'm the tallest elf-woman who's ever lived

melian: i must have the tiniest girlfriend in the whole world!

[tinuvielwrites]

It was a dark magic, not dark in the way of Morgoth’s or Sauron’s sorcery but dark in the way of murky waters and brown soil and sorrow and incredible strength.

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing

[polutrope]

Can I send more? 😁 if so, Celegorm/Oromë and Galadriel/Melian? 💗

Yeah, sure why not!

Celegorm/Orome

I admit Elf/Ainu relationships don't really get me going (unless it's Melian/Thingol) but that's slowly changing. I think I like this one as real messy. I am very much in the camp of "the Valar should not have brought the Elves from Cuivienen" and iirc there's at least some version out there where Orome - despite being the one to find them - is hesitant about bringing them to Aman (correct me if I'm wrong). So this becomes very exciting if The Elf he picks as his most favourite/his lover turns out to be one of the most awful. Also guilt because he really shouldn't have gotten romantically/sexually involved with one of the Children in the first place (bad Orome!). He and Aule could commiserate about that as they watch their faves wreck themselves and everything around them for sure (this works whether anyone is banging anyone or not). And of course Celegorm's crisis of faith being compounded by literally being his god's ex is delicious.

Yeah, I've talked myself around to it.

Galadriel/Melian

Another Elf/Ainu so lukewarm feelings but definitely the F/F ship I find most canonically plausible. Given Galadriel starts out as a bit of a Melian copy-paste (who evolved ofc), it was very tasty of Tolkien to literally make her Melian's protegee. I guess the square I'm mostly looking at here is "not sure what the relationship is". I prefer Galadriel being sexy with Luthien but there's definitely something going on with her and Melian. Queerplatonic mentor/mentee whose osanwe sometimes gets a little heated? idk.