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lamemaster · 1 year

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The Curse of the Uncursed (Thranduil x Feanorian Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue |

Summary: What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

AN: thank you everyone for your kind words for the last part of this fic. I enjoyed reading every single one of them after long hours of work. That being said, sorry for the delay but here is the last part of this series. I may work on some headcanons about the plot in the future but nothing is set right now. I hope you enjoy this.

Legolas feels the lands of his birth leave him as he watches the shores of Aman greet him. His kingdom, his father, his people, and their memories are all left on the nether shores. All but his friend, Gimli, who stands beside him.

Maybe someday, in some peaceful age, he would welcome his father to these shores. A lungful of grief and a heartful of joy fill him as he finds his grandfather, King Oropher, on the shores.

He embraces his grandfather in the way of men, a way taught by Aragorn. And his grandfather, although taken aback, hugs him back with equal vigor. None of them mention Thranduil. They cannot bring themselves to.

Legolas' eyes wander, looking for someone else. Someone he has never seen, someone he does not remember yet knows. His mother. He looks for you, whose name he has not heard once from his father's lips.

Yet, he knows that you have loved him more than life. And now that he stands on the shores of the land that you live on, Legolas does not see you in the crowd of people welcoming him.

"Her kind is not welcomed on these shores," Oropher speaks, noticing Legolas' wandering eyes. "Not after what they did ages ago."

Hot, seething rage fills Legolas at the hostility he sees in his grandfather's eyes. Was this what his mother faced while bearing him? Such hatred that she had no part in. "Her son is a part of the reason that Arda remains peaceful and the Dark Lord Sauron stays defeated," for the first time, Legolas lets pride and steel of wrath seep into his voice.

"And if these shores cannot welcome my mother, who has been forgiven by the Valar, then I see no reason to be here any longer," with these words, Legolas finds his feet walking away from his grandfather, who does nothing to stop him.

He is aware of Gimli calling for him, but he continues walking as his Dwarven friend complains about emotionally constipated elves. Everything feels too unfair. Why did his mother face such hostility when she did nothing wrong? How sad must she have been with how everyone treated her? And he…he wasn't there for her.

Guilt builds in his heart, and the streets of Alqualonde blur as tears cloud his eyes. He wants to leave so badly. He wants his mother. He wants to comfort her and take away her pain. He wants to reassure her and make her smile.

Legolas bumps into a figure, and a warm voice greets him. "And here I thought I would welcome my grandnephew with smiles," a voice he does not remember. A golden-haired and silver-eyed elf smiles at Legolas.

Atandil, or "Friend of Men," King of Nargothrond, Finrod, beams at Legolas.

"Yonya, your pacing would help little. I recommend you sit and wait. That Findarto is pretty good with his words. He would definitely charm your son into coming here," Celegorm comments, perched on a chaise as he observes you pacing around the room.

His own anxiety is well-hidden behind his cocky exterior. You turn to look at your father, "Do not talk like that about Uncle," you warm him. It had taken decades of your work to mend the broken ties between the Finweans. Your father and Uncle Finrod had been one of the toughest ones to work with.

Your heart races as you imagine your son somewhere on the shores of Aman. So close, yet so far. Only your respect for the Teleri holds you back from rushing to the shores that would bear your son's ship.

Your son, who played a big part in the destruction of the rings once forged by your cousin, Celebrimbor. "I will definitely brag about my grandson to that Curufin. Let him know the actual hero of Arda," you shake your head at your father's obnoxious words. You would have to make sure that he truly does not offend your uncle or Celebrimbor, who seems to be recovering well.

What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

As Celegorm's words linger in the air, your pacing slows, and you reluctantly settle into a nearby chair. The room is filled with a mix of anticipation and unease, and your mind drifts to the memories of your son, Legolas, whom you have never met in person. It has always been a painful void in your heart, knowing that you couldn't be there for him in his formative years.

Your thoughts turn to the events that shaped his life—the battles fought, the sacrifices made, and the role he played in the destruction of the rings. Pride swells within you, mingled with a bittersweet ache. Legolas, your son, is a beacon of hope in a world plagued by darkness. The knowledge of his accomplishments fills you with immense joy, but it also deepens the yearning to be with him, to hold him in your arms.

You gaze at your father, whose tongue always seems to wander freely, his remarks occasionally straying into offensive territory. The mending of broken ties within the family has required delicate care, and you have worked tirelessly to foster understanding and forgiveness. The last thing you want is for your father's words to undo the progress made.

"Ata, please," you implore gently, your voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and determination.

Your father sighs, his expression softening, "I will welcome my grandson and offer all that we have, but never, in this eternity, will I ever welcome his father," steel of hatred fills your father's jovial voice as he talks about your husband, Thranduil. "He who made you suffer, made you cry, made you pay for wrongs you had no part in, has no place in my heart," your heart shudders as you observe the wrath in your father's eyes.

"He held no mercy for you, not even when you bore his child, not even the decency to let you meet your son," Celegorm gets up from his seat, and his eyes brim with tears as he cups your face in his hands. "He made you suffer for my crimes. He made my daughter go through the worst of fates ever. I cannot forgive that. Not even in this blessed land."

Thranduil remains one subject that your father never switches his views on. Of all the repentance and grief, your husband is a thorn in your father's heart.

You do not speak anything on the topic of your husband. You cannot bring yourself to. Guilt, remorse, and regret make it hard to do so.

As Legolas steps through the magnificent halls of Tirion, his heart beats louder than ever. He cannot bring himself to be awed by the glamour of the city or its palace. All he can do is steel his mind to keep up with his granduncle Finrod's steps.

Yearning greater than the depth of the ocean, the endurance of a mountain, or the vastness of the entire sky seems to fill his every pore.

Anticipation, fear, and joy all crowd his heart. The mother who loved him greater than life,

would she love him still? Would she be pleased to see him as he would be to her? Would she let him be a part of her grief and allow him to share his?

With all these questions plaguing his mind, Legolas finds himself rooted in the spot as he watches Finrod push open the doors that separate his mother and him. Mere wooden doors that seem to be most potent at that moment.

A curtain of long silvery hair and sparkling green eyes, like the beginnings of the spring that Mirkwood was once known for, greets Legolas. You… his mother…

He does not hear the background voices of Finrod or others. Nothing matters in that moment. Legolas feels whole for the first time in his life.

He watches as you rush towards him, your steps hurried, and when in the haste of your movement your feet falter, Legolas finds himself supporting you, catching your arms and holding you.

"Yondo," after a separation so long, Legolas cannot will himself to stop his tears at the first mention of an address from his mother. He does not stop you when, with trembling hands, you cup his face and kiss the top of his head.

Maybe not all the wrongs in the world can be undone, maybe Arda truly can never be unmarred, but it remains beautiful nevertheless. And Legolas believes it to be true at this moment.

Feanor's heart weeps. He has yearned, raged, and lamented for many, but never has a sorrow been so potent as the hurt of his grandchildren.

Since he first caught a glimpse of Celegorm's child from the solitary halls of Mandos, he cannot help but feel endeared towards you, who resemble his mother so much.

Maybe, in those long years, it was your well-being that kept Feanor looking out for the nis growing up in the lands of the Sindar.

Your grief, your joy, your love, all feel too personal to Feanor. Closer than the Silmaril or the pains of his own children. But that means that Feanor witnessed your fall. With an irony stronger than ever, your fate is similar to Miriel's.

Feanor's soul burns with the hatred of a thousand suns for the Sinda who abandoned his granddaughter, who left you alone and cold, yearning for your son. In those moments of despair, even the confines of Mandos's halls tremble at his rage.

This restlessness only grows until he meets you. You, who, even in the grief of your own death, came to console him. In those moments, Feanor's soul cannot help but mellow down at your gentle urging.

So, Feanor spends ages in the desolate halls of Mandos, looking over his family that resides in the blessed realm. And his great-grandson, who fights against the Lieutenant of Morgoth.

The lands of once Greenwood the Great now lie overrun by wild vines and overpowering fauna. A forest that was once a kingdom now speaks only of ruins. The elves who once resided there have long left for the shores of Aman.

Only one remains. A fallen king who wears no crown. A king who does not sit on a throne. Instead, he spends ages trapped in a room. No lock, no shackles bind him, but he remains seated by a window.

A window that witnesses changing seasons and the paths of the sun and moon.

The one called Thranduil awaits his redemption or any form of forgiveness. He does so now that he remains free of his role as the king to his people or a father to his son. For now, he remains Thranduil, who once wedded you and Thranduil who once loved you more than his soul.

In those moments of solitude, Thranduil allows himself to read every single one of your letters from long ago. Long ago, when you waited for him in the same room. He grieves as he reads. He allows himself to mourn for the loss of his love, you, your marriage, and his very self.

Maybe the age of elves is over, but Thranduil's repentance stretches long into the eternity of Arda.

#tolkien elves #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x wife #the silmarillion #celegorm #legolas #Legolas' mother #feanorian reader #angst #angst with a hopeful ending

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noirbriar · 1 month

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Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (Final)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

OOC as always is all on me and canon is super hazy now but ahhh I tried

The final part! Thank you esp @mae-it-be-an-evening-dhros @tamilhobbit @the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur for following this indulgent writing of mine as part of me coping with things and being so kind to my first experiment writing based on Tolkien's works!

Sometimes, its the kindest ones who break the most.

---

6] Elrond Earendilion

Elrond is tired.

Here he sits on Celebrian's favourite bench in their balcony, watching the blazing crimson sun setting over the cliffs of his beloved Imladris. The light flooding the valley with endless red. Like fire, burning the skies, dripping into the water flowing endlessly, the life blood of all in this realm.A swallow chirps and lands on his shoulder, weightlessly and with ease.

Vilya pulses with every breath and each pulse of his fea as Elrond feels the fine well of power entangling around him. The Lord have been feeling the weariness of the ages sinking deep and clinging heavy on his bones.

The dull weight of it all drags on, settling on his spirit, plunging into depths unknown, rolling down and down, pulling into a deep, dark ocean beyond even Ulmo's reach.

Deeper.

And deeper.

And deep-

"-rond? Elrond!"

Elrond gets startled out of his darkening thoughts as the little swallow flutters off and faces the one face that he had always known.

One he and his brother have come to known as warmth and safety since they were but tiny elflings. Against the burning sky, Erestor stands before him, bent low with a gentle hand over his own, the one that bears the weight of power. The older ellon's cold hands cooling unlike the overbearing heat of his own skin. His slate green eyes dark, filled with a wide array of emotions unspoken, swirling in those orbs.

Right now, his Chief Councillor has forgone his usual heavy black robes, except for his elegant brocade robe of office over a tunic and leggings. The gold earcuff and feanorian earring shinning brightly.His twin blades strapped by his side and a crimson red scarf. No longer a mere advisor, Erestor and a select few of his staff have taken up the duty as the last means of defense of the Valley with the absence of Glorfindel and their troops.

Yet to Elrond, before him is not his Councillor and advisor, but one he and his brother have long recognised as another peredhel and claimed as kin of their own.

"Tor."

Elrond shifts and tugs Erestor down to sit beside him, the Lord of Imladris easing away the persona he carries.In his own private quarters, he cares not. The quiet guardian lets him, allowing Elrond to lean his head on his shoulder, his cold hand holding his own.The rare instance where Elrond feels the suppressed fea of the elder, the cold light bringing him familiar comfort. There was always something about the elder's fea he could never explain and he never knew why Erestor did so. Elrond never asked.

"You should not push yourself, Elrond." Erestor whispers.

"This land and many depend on me. As well as those further west. The darkness grows and without the strength of the land, it will be hard on our forces."

"Glorfindel and our warriors are more than capable of defending our borders against the wretched claws of evil and their ilk."Erestor admonishes gently, rubbing mindless circles on the peredhel's hand."You must rest, it will do us no good should you wear yourself thus. Arwen worries too."

"My precious daughter...always so sensitive and thoughtful. Even if I loathe to part from her, she has grown and found her own path. My sons, even if they have not made their choice to sail, they are finding their own place in this world. I cannot help but wonder...where does this leave me?"Elrond whispers his heartache in melancholy, closing his eyes and tries to ease the tension in him.

He is so, so tired. Like a thin piece of string, tattered and worn as time went on.

How he wished he could return to those innocent days! Safe and warm.There were days where he yearned for vague memories of the arms of nana, the hazy and distant gentleness of his adar's hand. Oh! How he longed for Celebrian's infectious joy and light. The ever smiling Celebrimbor's optimism. The ever practical Erenion and his laughter. In all that he had lost, he misses them the most. Dearest Elros by his side as they played with their strong Atto, with Atya singing enthralling songs and wonderous lullabies into the wild breeze.

His heart is so greedy and wants for them all. Fragments of light out of his grasp. Little fragments is all he craves.

"To be honest, when all is over, I had no desire to sail."

Erestor's words throws Elrond out of his maudlin thoughts like a broken glass, bringing everything to a standstill. The air freezes as Elrond's heart sinks, the younger elf turns harshly around as he hears the feanorian's proclamation.

"What?"

"I have long thought I shall fade here. On this very land where my Atar and my Amil have held me and my siblings in their embrace. " Erestor stares at the crimson dusk, "Where it all began, is where I will find my end. The only home I had. Where all my memories are, and have possessed all that I have ever known."

The string breaks.

"You can't!"

Elrond snarls, grabbing Erestor's arms, clinging almost like a desperate man reaching for a distant shore. The son of Earendil and Elwing feels that the abyss have finally caught him in its cold maw, the endless waves of loneliness and loss, regrets and sorrow that he have kept away for so long, now unchained in its fury. He had long known many of the old feanorians and the noldor have thought to remain in Middle Earth, with Imladris as their final Home. However, to hear those words from his longest friend, protector and kin-

The power beneath this land moans painfully with her master's sorrow, clinging to Elrond like a child seeking solace.

"Everyone I have known and love are lost and gone. Forsaken and abandoned! I cannot! I cannot lose you as well, Tor!"

Elrond gives in as he finally wails, wretched and tormented, ages of heartache and desires bursting forth. The remaining one finally starts to crumble under the weight he has borne.

Dear Erestor who watched over him and Elros, and sheltered them after Maedhros and Maglor were gone. The one they have taken as their older sibling. Who had held them in the cold, somber nights in Lindon, with battered bloodied hands and lustrous raven locks shorn from his head. Who mourned with him the death of their beloved Elros, and the fall of his legacy. The one built with him this haven and held his own children with the same gentle hands filled with scars. The one who kept him and his children going as Celebrain's ship sailed.

Elrond has had enough.

"I don't want to lose anyone anymore. Please, Tor. You are all I have left..." was all Elrond could plead with what selfishness he could find in him.

He is a healer, he has seen broken hurts and deep wounds buried in the soul, mending each unspoken pain little by little with what strength he carries.

But who would bear and heal the pain of the healer then?

"Oh, Elrond..."

The old feanorian caresses his face in tender hold, wiping away the tears he have not realised were there from his redden cheeks. Bathed in ephemeral crimson light, the two companions through the ages holds the other quietly.

"Do not weep." Erestor whispers into his ear as he embraces the younger peredhel in sorrow.

"I will not lie, that was my thought for the longest time, to remain in the land where my amil and my siblings have laid to rest before passing into the Halls. I am tired, truth be told. Yet with all that has happened recently... watching you, the young ones, even Bilbo and the Dwarrow and Edain, and all who have came to this haven we have forged...I find myself wondering, if I could find that courage that you all have shown to walk a different path?"

Erestor then turns back towards Arien, watching the crimson setting sun. While Elrond stares up wonder at this Erestor who is still that calm and mighty guardian, yet different all the same. Within his eyes, they seem to hold a different light. A light that he feels in their shared bond of kinship in their fea, a burning ember chasing away the creeping darkness that have grown far and deep away inside.

And Elrond feels.

Things then swiftly happen in immediate succession, like something in the distance shattered and mended. A change in the air as that unseen miasma of dread it lifts as the birds cry. Vilya shudders, the elven ring trembling in resonance, before finally dimming itself into almost nothingness.

The horn of the Valley resounds.

An age ends. Another shall soon begin.

---

The residents of Imladris awaits at the square for the troops returning, bearing the wounded and the lost, but triumphant still with news of the destruction of Sauron and his Ring. Elrond bears his mantle once more with his circlet and heavy robes embroidered with patterns of gliding stars, hollow still but no longer in deep woe.

Vilya remains silent.

Their Lord descends to welcome their armies and the Edain back Home. Arwen remains close by his side, dressed in silver and silk. His daughter, ever empathic and sensitive. Her quiet presence a balm after that release of emotions welled up and sealed in him through the ages, bringing about much relief to his weary heart.

Bilbo Baggins, even with his body growing old and frail now that the final connection as Ringbearer is lost, hobbles slowly beside him in careful steps. The Hobbit probably hopeful for some news of his nephew and the fellowship.

A long welcoming horn sounds and there beyond the bridge, they see Glorfindel, glowing with the light of Aman, leading their victorious warriors and the last of their wounded home. Elrond's heart gladden to see them safe once more. As the Lord of Imladris, Elrond breathes in deeply the refreshing clean air, ready to give a speech to welcome them all home-

Right before he could get a word out, a blur of a shadow darts out, his Chief Councillor leaps elegantly past the many steps and simply crashes straight into his Captain dismounting Asfaloth. His favourite crimson scarf falling and lays forgotten in his wake.

The Golden Lord would have fallen over by the sudden unexpected impact from being pounced upon him if not for his unnatural strength. The Balrog-slayer dropping his helm and swiftly catching the dark haired elf with a hand on his back and another placed almost naturally on his assailant's bottom with no hesitation. The startled warrior's surprised noise also does not hinder Erestor in the slightest as he wraps his arms around the taller ellon and greets him.

Head on with a hard kiss.

Elrond nearly chokes.

The world seems to stop in that instant. Not a soul breathes. Not even as the caravan and wagons of the wounded behind holler at what was on with the hold up from behind. Asfaloth simply snorts in disbelief with a shake of his great head only a horse can, and wisely chooses to trot further away.

Everyone else remains still. Not even willing to move a muscle as the couple parted after a long heated kiss before a stunned audience, heaving with adrenaline and foreheads touching close.Unbothered and unconcerned.The silence is deafening, before someone finally speaks.

"Marry me, Laure." Erestor whispers, breathless.

Glorfindel gasps. His eyes bright with emotions, wild and free. The Hero of Gondolin could only gaze at his partner wordlessly filled with a fierce passion and endearing love.

"Eres? You are certain? You know we do not have to. I care not for oaths or promises or ceremonies, but only you by my side. My fea knows only you, forever and always. I am content!”

"No!"

Erestor's hands clutches into the white cape of their Captain, his eyes fierce with raw determination, their unbridled Tempest.

"No more I shall fear of the unknown. Neither of Oaths nor Doom. Even if I am damned to the Void, even if I must claw my way out of the abyss, I will find my way back to you! It is you, and only you that I will hold till the end of all of Eru's Songs! I want to be one with you meldanya*. I am ready."

If there was a tear from either of them, no one could say for they were so enthralled by the words they share.

“My brave Eres! Have I not told you before? May it be in the light of grace or endless Void, all I care is you as you are. It will never change! If it is what you desire, then let us become one! None will keep you from me, for what use is my poor existence if I cannot keep my heart by my side?" Glorfindel smiles, holding Erestor close with no concern to the travel-worn state he is in. With a lighter, softer peck upon the soft lips of his partner.

“You need not protect me. Just, stay beside me, as I face what is ahead, that is all I shall ask. ” Erestor whispers softly. It was plain for all to see, even with that cool mein, their ever stern Councillor was basking in the raw light of love.

“That I can do.”Glorfindel returns with a soft laugh, eager and proud in their joy.

"I am sorry. I am sorry it took so long."

"Nay, it matters not for we are here at last, and what do you know? I am ready too." Glorfindel then pulls Erestor into a deep embrace.

"Let us be bound, Eres, and never be apart."

"Aye."

Elrond does not know why or how but watching this all unfold before his eyes, his two friends finally answering to those unspoken feelings that they have all long known felt like a refreshing air of relief for himself. The Lord can only give a loud laugh at the incredulous timing in the whirlwind of it all. Like a chapter coming to an end on its own.

Their happiness is so infectious and warm, that it urges the half-elven on with an unexpected impulsiveness as he descends down the steps to meet the couple. His arms reaching out and pulling them into a hug with his dear friends. Which causes the trio of Lords to nearly fall over into an unseaming heap if not for Glorfindel and Erestor pulling Elrond and each other safe on their feet on the solid ground.

"Mellyn nin! Does this mean we can safely deem that you are both together? After so many years, we are to have a wedding in the Valley then?" The Lord of Imladris smiles, feeling lighter than ever.

The couple shares a an uncharacteristically shy look, probably realising their open affections have been on full on display. The two shuffling awkwardly, as Glorfindel pulls back his golden braid and Erestor straightening his robes. Even as their hands remain clasped together through the motions.

"Aye."

"We are."

With that the dam breaks and there are cheers and roars from all around. The felicitations and laughter blooming and loud, even out beyond the gates, voices echoing far across Imladris.

Elrond even spots several bags of coin being passed around. Looks like the age old wagers have ended, one that he was unfortunately unable to participate out of fairness and status. His foresight definitely did not foresee any of this, Elrond can be certain, despite whatever one may believe. There were some hands passing over even to a rather eager Bilbo and...Arwen!? Elrond gives his daughter a incredulous stare of dismay with a raise of his brow, but Arwen simply wiggles the bag and mouths, "Aragon's!"

Right.

"But we will not be having a wedding."

The sounds all come back to a halt, leaving the birds to continue with their delightful song.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Everyone gets startled by the suddden aggressive shout and turns to its unlikely source. The ever polite and dutiful Steward of the House, Head Minstral of the bards, Lindir, stands in utter dismay and fury. A look of disdain upon his face with a hand clutching his robes in great horror. Elrond is rather certain its overly dramatic and very much out of character for the usually placid minstrel.

"No! No! Absolutely no! I have waited for an age for this and I refuse to accept-Its not how things are done! I made plans! I drafted songs! I will be vindicated! I WILL SEE A WEDDING!" Lindir declares with a glorious wave of his sleeves. Some of the household staff can be seen nodding in agreement.

Alright, he stands corrected with further observation. The little sleeve sweep was so much that he is reminded of Atya. Lindir certainly has enough flair to match with the Noldor he admires.

The couple can only simply blink blankly in response.

"But, we do not have the resources allocated for it, Lindir. Besides, we are short on time, we must prepare for our Arwen's wedding and for our House to journey forth to Gondor. There is also our wounded and our dead to care for, either way, it is not feasible at all." Their ever calculating and planning Councillor explains calmly.

"I politely disagree, my Lord Erestor."

Everyone now turns to Saelbeth who is the one to interrupt his mentor with a bow. His hands tucked in his sleeves as he steps forward from the group of councillors gathered.

"We not only have an abundance of resources stored, our staff and soldiers are more than capable and equipped to run autonomously. In fact, much of the preparations have already begun. Our household is more than proficient to handling the arrangements should our Lords be amendable in our suggestion."

Erestor narrows his sharp eyes at his protege, who is undaunted by the fierce look. As if the feanorian did not expect the efficiency he has implemented in this House to choose now of all times to work against him of all things.

Glorfindel gives a slight cough which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"We are also, able to oversee the duties of our troops as needed, if necessary." Deputies Laica and Thandor concurred from behind without prompt.

Which only earns them a careful glance from their Commander, one that the soldiers have chosen to disregard. Glorfindel rolls his eyes with an unbelivable shake of his head, muttering something along the lines of 'insubordination'.

"To be honest, Eres and I, we have both desired to only be wed simply by bonding. For our kin and friends here in our beloved home to recognise it, is more than enough." Their Captain elaborates, although this answer just seem to infuriate the usually calm minstrel even more, that the sindar is made speechless as he tries to breathe with his staff supporting him behind.

Elrond is a little guilty to find the whole situation a tad comical in any other circumstances.

"You will both not grant me the chance to witness an elven Wedding in my Home before I leave?"

They all turn around and come face to face with his daughter. Their beloved princess, their Evenstar, reaching out to hold their hands in hers. She gazes at her mentors and guardians with those gentle eyes, glimmering and full of hope under the golden rays of a new age of peace.

"Arwen-" Erestor began but Arwen urges him to listen with a shake of her head.

"Uncle Erestor, Uncle Glorfindel. Long have I wished to see you joined and blessed in ceremony. Will you not grant me this? Please?"

With that, Elrond can see the couple's resolve fall. Which was not surprising. For the two loved his daughter as though his children were their own since they were born. Elrond remembers the nights he and Celebrian handed his children to the two, watching them care for the young little elflings with so much care and selfless love.

Although that little spark in Arwen eyes is a little too obvious. Elrond gives his daughter an exasperated but fond look for that. It is somewhat reassuring to know his children all have not lost all of their playful innocence after all they have experienced in life and will carry them forth in what lies ahead.

Erestor manages to resist for a good while before giving a resigned sigh. He shares a knowing look with Glorfindel who returned with a wistful shrug.

"We can compromise, I suppose. Who needs tradition anyway in our haven, a Home for all walks of life?"

And compromise they did.

After mourning for the ones that have passed and comfoting those who grieved, the rest of Imladris sang for all, for those who cry and those who are to heal, and for everlasting peace.

Until the voices cease and raises once more in the flurry of excitement and chaos. The whole of Imladris prepares for the journey to Gondor and Arwen's wedding. Here in Imladris, where all of the elves from every clan have settled and called home for more than an age all prepare in their strange mix of elven customs hashed together in celebration.

On the night before their departure and their supposed wedding ceremony, Glorfindel and Erestor disappears, while Imladris makes merry in the name of the married couple.

The duo only emerges once more at the break of dawn, with Arien's greeting upon them. Glorfindel and Erestor appear, walking down the path from the sea of beech trees serenely, dressed in beautiful robes that Elrond has vaguely remembered from years long ago on one autumn eve. Their hair braided in a mix of noldor and vanyar patterns. They bear no wedding rings, but upon their brow, rests the circlet of their mate, with golden flowers shining against raven dark hair, and an elaborate twisting weaves gleaming upon glowing gold locks. It was plain for all to see, the marriage bond is complete and proud.

They stand before The Lord of Imladris and Arwen by his side, Lindir standing nearby bearing the ceremonial water from the Bruinen with almost the entirety of the Last Homely House welcoming the newly bonded Lords back with flowers. With bended knee, they greeted him and presented each other as their rightfully bonded mate, awaiting for his blessing. One that Elrond is more than eager to give, as he holds their warm hands in his.

Warm?

Under all that happiness, Elrond suddenly senses a familiar light in Erestor as well. Elrond feels, and is surprised to find Erestor's fea dancing unbound, like a little ember on a quiet eve. With Glorfindel's powerful light mingling through like blooming vines, caressing across the shared connection. He simply cannot put a finger to no matter how he tried. Although he is unable to give much thought to it with most of his House eager to approach and congratulate the newly wedded couple until the time comes that they must leave for the long journey to Arwen's future.

Elrond watches it all, as he had done through the ages. A sense of acceptance settles within him as he urges his mount on, taking the first step out of Imladris with his daughter and friends by his side, and the elves of Imladris following behind.

Elrond turns to the boundless skies beyond.

Everyone is finding their own path, its probably time he walks down his own as well.

---

Flags flutter in the wind. Sails are prepared, and the ships are ready. Elrond observes as everyone else bid farewell to friends and kin. He has already made his goodbyes to his children but as a father, it is still difficult to part with them, forever his and Celebrian's treasured little ones. Bilbo and Frodo are huddling with their kin while Galadriel and Mithrandir speak with Cirdan in quiet voices.

It is hard to comprehend that he himself is finally leaving these shores for some place he has only heard and never seen. May it be from tales in the books or words of others. The unknown seems so difficult to grasp now that he is facing it.

"Elrond."

Elrond turns and sees Erestor and Glorfindel approaching, probably done with overseeing things.

"Tor." Elrond indulges a childish whim, greeting his advisor the nickname out in the open. Before he is pulled into a warm embrace by his old companion.

"Be safe. Be happy."

"I will."

A press of their foreheads, the two part, before Glorfindel hugs Elrond as well.The warrior's arms folding over his form, strong yet gentle. Oh Glorfindel! Fair and selfless, who protected him and his family since the days of old, always cheerful and supportive. The defender of Imladris who sang so beautifully and made the flowers dance. Who also have the terrible habit of enabling little elflings with too much sugar and making him laugh.

He will miss them both dearly. His precious friends who have walked by his side.

"Send my regards to Celebrian and everyone there, alright?"

"Are you both sure you are staying?" Elrond asks once more, just to be sure.

Now that Glorfindel's duty is done, he is to return to Valinor. Erestor, now his husband and mate meant that he too, will sail with his beloved. Yet, the couple has elected to remain in Middle Earth and Imladris for sometime yet.

"Someone has to watch over Elladan and Elrohir. As well as those who seek to sail in the coming years, who will need guidance as they pass through the Last Homely House. Celeborn alone would not be possible!" Glorfindel remarks lightly in jest.

"It would not be long." Erestor reassures.

A bell sounds, and Cirdan calls for those looking to sail to finally board the ship. In that moment, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Elrond like a skipping pebble finally falling into the water.

He looks back at his friends, who returns with an encouraging nod and a wave.With a deep breath, Elrond steps forward and onwards.

As everyone boards, Elrond notices Galadriel turning pointedly towards Erestor without a word. Who simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement to the Lady while Glorfindel keeps a hand proudly on his mate's waist. Galadriel gives a cryptic nod in return, and turns to board the ship.

As the hobbits follow along with Mithrandir, Erestor suddenly strides up, calling for Bilbo. The old hobbit and his nephew turns back towards the feanorian in wonder. It is then, Elrond sees Erestor removing his treasured earring bearing the feanorian star, bending down and handing it carefully into Bilbo's thin hands.

"I do not know what good this may do, but I hope it will aid you in what you seek in some way."

"And... should anyone ask?"

Erestor and Bilbo share a long moment in silence, before the old hobbit grips onto the gift with a new found strength in his old hands with grateful acceptance. Mithrandir watches on, curious and full of mirth, but wisely chooses not interfere as they move on.

The anchors are pulled. The wind picks up and the gulls sing an ode to bid them farewell.

Farewell to Middle Earth! Farewell to everything and all! As the Eldar and the ringbearers leave behind all they have known and onwards into another realm, into another journey unknown. The breeze grows strong and the waves rushes, pushing them on and into the light-

"Elrond!"

The Peredhel turns back and sees Erestor running upon the docks, robes in hand and shouting towards the ocean with little care for his usual decorum. Glorfindel following close behind, waving brightly and so enthusiastically, almost like a maniac should one stumble upon the sight.

"Go! My kin! We will be just right behind!"

"The journey will be awhile! Do not miss us! It will not be long and you shall have company to keep you busy, dear Elrond!"

Elrond blinks back a tear at his silly friends and laughs.

---

There was only so much one can do out in the vast and endless sea in close quarters with many others. However, Elrond has found comfort watching the stars and his Adar sail across the night skies, wondering in the quiet of his mind.

When the shores of the West are finally sighted, many are excited, though for a break in endless voyage or beauty of it, Elrond could not be certain. As they all clamouring and crowding on the bow for a glimpse of the blessed realm.

Yet the unexpected always happen when one least expects it.

With a loud cry resounding into the air breaking the peace, everyone on the ship are soon startled out of their watchful gaze of the their eternal home. Elrond jumps up, sprinting to the bottom of the deck to the storage where lies its source. Where a pale Frodo stares incredulously at an open box.

Galadriel arrives as well and they share a questioning look, leaving Mithrandir to quickly tend to the startled hobbit on the floor of the ship. Bilbo slowly joins in, offering a pat of comfort to his kin, though the old adventurer seems oddly calm by the chaos. Sounds of movement from the opened box increase with intensity, each rustling and rattling growing louder much like Elrond's own heartbeat. There is no foulness or evil in the air, but age old instincts has them on edge all the same.

With careful steps, Elrond approaches the crate first with Galadriel following close behind.

Cautiously, they all peer inside.

After all these years and in endless joys and unending sorrow, the half elven finds finally feels that burden upon him lifting, a light of hope and his being healing at long last. With quiet tears and a sob of delight, Elrond is finally able to smile again, full and free, as he dives in to embrace the beginnings of healing as his heart soared.

"Atya!"

---

*Quenya: my beloved

A/N: I probably could have polished things more but at this point, I think I shall leave it as it is. A rather odd final part I think but I tried? Thank you all for taking the time to read and comment and reblog, you all made my day with each one!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

#the lord of the rings #lotr #the silmarillion #the silm #glorestor #elrond #erestor #glorfindel #lindir #the residents of imladris #arwen #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #finally done!#dont hurt me im soft #ficlet #glorfindel x erestor #elrond has so nany things to resolve imo

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imakemywings · 2 months

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This is so late but anyway post rebirth, do you really think Celebrimbor's indifference towards his family would matter to them? Like I could see his mother be affected, his father, I don't know, but the rest? I can't see them be that affected? Or maybe my perception of the feanorians aren't that positive hahahaha

Ooh, fun question!

Short answer: Depends on the person, but generally, yes.

Long answer: I imagine the Feanorians are not being released from Mandos without some repentance--that is, acknowledging that what they did was wrong and fucked up, because if they can't show that they've learned something, I don't imagine the Valar want to unleash them on the rest of Elfinesse again.

I think his parents certainly would be bothered, for two reasons: 1. That's their son and most people want their kids to love them, even when they haven't really earned it; and 2) Celebrimbor's disapproval is calling them out. For them to finally come around to admitting the full extent of how wrong what they did was, and be permitted to return to the world, and for Celebrimbor to feel so strongly about what they did that even now he wants nothing to do with them would sting pretty harshly, I think. Maybe they're shaved heads hair shirt ash on the face repentant about it, or maybe they've only grudgingly admitted they were in the wrong as a condition of rebirth, but however they feel, Celebrimbor realized and acknowledge this truth thousands of years earlier and in direct defiance of the truths and perspectives he had been raised in and was surrounded by. That makes them look pretty shitty by comparison.

I also think that in absence of other grandchildren of Feanor, Curufin at the least considered Celebrimbor Maedhros'--and therefore Feanor's--heir, and raised him as such. For that child, raised to potentially take the family throne, to reject Curufin and his teachings would be a pretty powerful statement made directly to the rest of the family, whose loyalty and respect I think Curufin desires.

In short, even if Celebrimbor's parents aren't personally wounded by his rejection (and I think they would be), I think they would be shamed by it, so it would bother them for that reason even if not simply because that's their son and they feel they did a decent job raising him.

As to his uncles: I think this partially depends on how close you imagine they were. I think Celebrimbor was very close with Celegorm, in part just because he was around a lot, because Celegorm was close with Curufin. I can see him having a relationship with Caranthir. But I don't personally view him as ever having been close with Maedhros, Maglor, Amrod, or Amras, the former two especially. So there will be varying degrees of personal upset depending on what you envision the relationship he had with them before his departure was.

I think it also depends on how you imagine each of the Feanorians feels about what they did and how (and whether!) they justified their actions to themselves. The deeper awareness they had that what they did was wrong and the less willing they were to admit that (Maedhros) the more uncomfortable I think Celebrimbor's rejection would be, because again it's forcing them to confront their own immorality, not through the voice of one of their victims, but from someone who's been on their side.

There's also something that stings especially in being rebuked by a child, and while Celebrimbor is obviously not a child anymore, nor was he when he disowned his family originally, I think their memory of him growing up would weave in some of this element.

For the Feanorians who deeply and genuinely recognize their wrongs and want to do better, I think Celebrimbor's reaction would be more understandable, if disappointing. For those who are still struggling with coming to terms, they're more likely to get defensive about it. Anyone who feels they are owed Celebrimbor's respect and affection as a member of his family are likely to be very offended by his response.

The only people I think who would outright dismiss his response would be those who have not yet admitted that they were wrong, and I don't think those types would be permitted rebirth.

#asks #anonymous #celebrimbor #mine

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tanoraqui · 7 months

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Oh, Old Kingdom Feanorians is very fun I love it! Thoughts that occurred to me 1) lore of Melkor can be split between Oranis and Mogget; Oranis for destruction and deaths, Mogget for lies; in fact, I can see Mogget feanor relationship being something like in book Clariel; Mogget using him but two of them growing fond of each other, if only due to similar desire for freedom 2) Astarael already is Nienna in a way, no? Itd be fun too see yfeanor or Maglor down the well

That's exactly what I was thinking, re: Morgoth, Orannis and Mogget! Mogget saw the division in the Abhorsen's family, notably Fëanor's jealousy, paranoia and pride (and fear of abandonment and loss), as well as his genuinely non-malicious curiosity and love of exploration, and egged him on in his feud with Fingolfin and his experiments with not just the Charter but Free Magic as well. He egged on FIngolfin as well, though less so - it was always harder to act directly against even the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and anyway, he barely needed to. Fëanor provoked Fingolfin enough all on his own.

I don't know how exactly Orannis starts to wake - I don't think Fëanor unburies him, though maybe he unburies him a little, gets hideously bad vibes, and stops...and it's too late; he's broken some preliminary seal that he fails to properly repair? Or maybe he's just revealed the location to Sauron, who will overall be playing the part of Chlorr of the Mask in this au... At any rate, Orannis wakes some notable amount, but as he does Finwë brings battle to him, which kills Finwë but buys the whole Kingdom many decades, maybe centuries, as Orannis slowly regains his full power.

(I still like the idea that those of the Shiners' blood live longer than normal people in this au, like, Númenoreans long - several centuries on average. Unless killed, of course, as many of them are.)

Mogget was likely with Finwë, briefly uncollared. Finwë orders him to deliver bells and sword to Fingolfin, who is at the extremely awkward festival the royal family (Vanyar) are throwing in an attempt to get him and Fëanor to reconcile...

(Hm, did some Great Charter Stones get broken in Orannis's emergence, a la the death of the Trees? They're reparable, though... I'd need to think about this au more to figure out exactly how bloodlines and frankly geography and range of rule, work. The Old Kingdom doesn't really have anywhere to exile people to, but that's such an important part of The Silmarillion...)

From Mogget's pov, what comes next is roughtly:

Fuck yeah, dead Abhorsen, and his kids more likely than not to go to war over his title, even though it's patently obvious who should have it! Lol! (Okay, Orannis is an unwelcome surprise buuut he's delayed, so, like, I can still work with this.) Time to drop of some objects then get righteously vengefully slaughtering...

Ugh, new Abhorsen is quick with a collar. And the boys are...getting along, in the wake of Finwë's death. That is, Fëanor is too distracted by vengeance to make trouble about not being Abhorsen, and Fingolfin is too distracted by vengeance to make trouble about Fëanor blatantly using Free Magic. Well, at least they're going to stop Orannis before he causes--

Aaand Fëanor in his paranoia and fury took all the ships to sail [south to Edge? north of above the Glacier?] to attack Orannis, then blindly charged ahead and got himself torn to pieces by Greater Dead- oh, no, actually he self-immolated at the very end. Yeah that tracks. I may have encouraged that path of thought. Okay. Damn, and Maedhros captured? RIP, except of course he won't. I kinda liked that kid, too.

Fingon did wh-- fucking Seven, that's a construct of Astarael they're flying back on.

Alright, business as usual, Abhorsen alternately bossy and ignoring me while his kid runs around fighting Free Magic dragons and flirting with Wallmaker scions (who rae definitely still using Free Magic over there; maybe I'll just take a nap in these saddlebags and someone will accidentally bring me to visit...) Only difference is it's a semi-active war front because no one can figure out how to re-bind Orannis so all they can really do it wait--

Ugh, I HATE fire. The soot gets EVERYWHERE and I have to lick it out. This is undignified.

Good showing on Abhorsen Fingolfin's part. Stupid, but good. Death-seeking despair is in their blood, there's really not much you can do about it. Serious issue that Orannis kept the bells, though - Fingon's always been better with the sword, but that won't be nearly eno--

The remnant of Ranna had a DAUGHTER with a HUMAN? What the fuck?

This plan is doomed but as usual the Abhorsen won't listen to me. /shrug emoji

Yyyep he's dead. Ooh, no new Abhorsen anywhere nearby, and he's just a baby anyway... Look, one of Turgon's last people is even picking up the sword; I'm sure it'll get to the new kid somehow... Clearly the most appropriate and helpful thing for me to do is to find the nearest heirs of the blood and help them stand against Orannis. Hey, Fëanorioni, long time no see! You know, I'd be able to help much more if you just take off this pesky little collar...

(Fëanorians spend the next several decades letting Mogget lose to kill things and people then wrestling a collar back onto him, which gets increasingly difficult as there are fewer of them to do it. Moggets stays with them because a) killing is fun, b) eventually they're fail to re-restrain him and he'll be more or less free, and c) he kinda likes them shut up. They're so fucked up and still trying so hard; it's...intriguing.)

(Mogget refuses to identify whether Elros or Elrond is the true Abhorsen-in-Waiting literally until they figure it out themselves (it's Elros. Elrond, once Orannis has been re-bound with the help of assorted relatives, takes up the mantle of being Ranna-than-remains, and builds himself a welcoming manor near the woods that were once Doriath.))

#irleughlivelyatalanteangodfan #abhorsen trilogy #the silmarillion #my fic

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doodle-pops · 2 years

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Caranthir NSFW Alphabet

Request #1: Could you please do an nsfw alphabet for Caranthir?? Your account is amazing❤️ - anon

Request #2: Do you have any nsfw head canons for our precious boy Caranthir? I’d love to hear them ;) - anon

A/N: Ask and you shall receive anons. I have been obsessed with Kate and Anthony so I now have a good reason to use their gifs.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The air between you both is very quiet and still, there’s not much talking done besides the occasional ‘Are you alright?’. Since he’s spent his energy on such a vigorous activity, Caranthir doesn’t want to move around a lot right after, he prefers to lie in bed with you and cuddle. This is perhaps the only time where cuddling is initiated by him without a complaint. He’ll pull you on top of him or partially, allowing your leg to drape across his body, and run his fingers up and down your back. Don’t expect him to become all sentimental and begin expressing himself with flowery words because even in this situation, Caranthir still isn’t going to be that emotionally vulnerable. The furthest he’d go with affections is giving you more kisses than usual. Overall, he’d just want to lie in bed and sleep should the moment call for a nap, if not then he’ll return to work once you’re all checked in.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Caranthir knew that he was never someone who focused on his features since he understood he didn’t stand out for being the most attractive like his siblings but when you came along, he grew to love his features. His biceps he would favour the most since you have a tendency of griping it whenever he donned too much pleasure or too little. You would leave little nail and tooth marking printed into his muscles – his pride raises whenever he notices them. This gives him cause to make out with you often to feel you gripping his biceps as you fight to control yourself.

On you, Caranthir is famed a lover of your ass and can’t help but have his hands all over them during sex. Because of his love for your ass, he enjoyed a spanking session, just spanking you until your ass is the darkest shade of red – probably matched his face when he blushes. He’s aggressive when it comes to handling your plump flesh, with a firm grip and a bite, leaving behind his teeth imprints as his personal branding. His hands could never help but wonder about the fatness of the flesh and give it rubs and pinches, he marvels at the way it moves when his hips collide against it during sex, thus, he loves to take you from behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Like any Feanorian, Caranthir does have the urge to breed you, but it isn’t as dire as the rest of his siblings. He’s probably the only one who cums in you given the situation and time period. Other than that, Caranthir's pull-out game is top-notch. He only cums in you if he’s feeling jealous or requires a stress output and is too tired to pull out – it’s rare that he cums in you given the situation not being any. If he’s feeling jealous or stressed, he’ll fill you up to the brim because he wants to feel your walls milking him out and begging for more. When he’s in a good mood, he normally pulls out and cums on your breast or ass, given if you’re sucking him off then in your mouth. The sight spurs him on for another round when you’re covered in his essence.

He does enjoy making you cum as many times as possible. To do this, he loves to finger you or rub you off if he doesn’t want to go for another round. Caranthir would hold you down with his muscular arms and make you take all that he’s giving you. It’s impossible to escape his grasp once it's wrapped around your waist, just lie there and cry as you’re being pleasured to perfection.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Roleplaying. Caranthir uses roleplaying as an activity to get away from reality even though there are some elements brought over. He isn’t overly extravagant with his selection in the range of roles to portray, thus he sticks to the basics like master/servant, king/servant or interrogating you. He wants his role to give him some sense of control since he doesn’t like the idea of giving it up so easily. If you want to be in control, you have to convince him real well, or fight him for it – maybe strike a deal. Only both of you are aware of his roleplaying fantasies and thus it is performed behind closed doors at all times.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a nervous wreck the first time you both have to sleep together even though he may have thought about it time after time, now that the moment has arisen, he wants to back out. Caranthir would suggest that you two sleep together another time due to his nervousness and you would have agreed since you saw it. It wasn’t until you went to change into your sleepwear and came back out in lingerie basically which fried his brain, and he jumped you. His movements would be robotic since he’s nervous, but he has a fair idea of what to do because someone pulled him aside to inform him of the best techniques to avoid their house having a terrible reputation for not being able to pleasure their lover well. But as a Feanorian, Caranthir never has sex half-assed.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

As someone who loves your ass and rough sex, Caranthir loves to take you doggystyle. He’ll bind his hand in your hair and yank your head upwards to create a beautiful arch in your back or push your head into the surface he’s fucking you on. He’s always fast and rough during doggy and this initiates him to spanking your ass constantly until it’s litter in handprints and the same colour as his face. He has the tendency of giving your ass a bite before he takes you from behind. If the mood takes him, he’ll lean his weight atop you and press you into the mattress, pushing you into the prone bone position.

When he isn’t feeling to be rough and gravitates towards being soft and tender, Caranthir chooses to spoon sex as his favourite position. He gets to be comfortable with lying down and holding you closer than ever. One hand on your breast or around your neck and the other firmly holding your waist, running up and down your skin. He can groan and moan in your ear as his lips hover and travel to your neck to kiss. Sometimes when you visit him in his study or you’re relaxing on the balcony during the late evenings, the couches are put to use for some spooning sex.

Not an extravagant member of his family with sex, so he sticks to plain old missionary. It works wonders for him when he’s taking you hard and fast or soft and slow. He’s able to gauge your reactions and have his lips attached to some part of your skin. Hands can alter your legs to his liking, and he can still have you putty. The first position he turns to whenever you’re having sex and it’s his most favourable. At times during missionary, he’ll sit up and pull your body to sit in his lap and use his hands to guide your hips, controlling the pace.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nope, absolutely not. No laughing none whatsoever. Don’t even giggle during sex because he’ll stop mid-fucking at asking you what’s so funny and why you’re laughing. He doesn’t like the idea of being jokey during an act he considers to be serious, even when he’s jealous, sex to him is tremendously serious – he might become aggravated and fuck the laughing out of you. Laughing just makes him become all the more insecure. If you’ve found something funny, he would appreciate it if you waited until sex was over and then told him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Elves are the lucky set of bastards I’ve ever heard of, and they don’t have the fortunate pleasure of growing hair aside from what they have on their heads. Caranthir’s carpets don’t match his drapes because he doesn’t have any carpet to being with. Not one spec or strand, not even a stray strand pops out of nowhere.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Might come as a shock to some, but Caranthir is tremendously serious when it comes to intimacy. He believes that intimacy between each other should be a meaningful moment which means fucking you when he’s stressed and jealous or even bored out of his mind. Caranthir enjoys it when you kiss and trace his freckles during sex or run your fingers through his dark silken locks and give them a rough tug. Seeing how caught up in his appearance makes his heart swell and realizes how much you truly love his looks. He just wants your hands on him during the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Whenever you are apart and desire each other, Caranthir has no choice but the relieve himself. In the beginning, he would suffer himself to wait until he reunited for you to put him out of his misery, but as time grew, he learned that he hadn’t any choice. He’d find himself somewhere extremely quiet and far away from camp, probably a hot spring, and imagine that it was your hands and mouth getting him off. His touches would start off slow but soon grow impatient and turn quick-paced. He’s silent during the entire process and would rather save his moans for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

To start things off, Caranthir loves to brat tame. Not very shocking from someone who’s renowned for being the quickest to rise in temper. He has a love-hate relationship with the kink because it makes him go back on his words about sex being meaningful (you once told him that it was very meaningful when he had put you in your place). He’s quick to drag you off to some hidden room and give you a lecture on your behaviour earlier while spanking you and fingering you at a snail’s pace. Other kinks like humiliation, spanking and orgasm denial show up as he’s taming you. He becomes very rough and would manhandle you about the place – he adores the chances to emit his dominating aura. Whenever he’s finished, a quick warning not to repeat is given – as if you ever do.

As mentioned before, Caranthir loves to roleplay and only the domineering roles – master/servant, teacher/student, king/servant, and interrogation. There are times during the session he slips up because he’s still aware of your safety and would forget that’s he supposed to be dominant to check on you. But when he’s truly in his dominant mode, Caranthir really gets into the role and relishes in the level of roughness he can extend. He’ll make you kneel before him and beg for forgiveness, pull you across his lap for a spanking, and if he’s in that head space, you can get him to re-enact a king/servant role and have him take you on his throne. If you pay close attention, roleplaying for Caranthir allows you to call him by his title, ‘My Lord/Sir/Master’ to become crippled.

Is wearing lingerie a kink? Anyway, it is for him, and he goes crazy whenever you wear them for him. Just stroll into his study or into the courtroom late at night wearing his robes and tease him a bit. Then, just as he begins to complain about having work to complete, drop his robes and reveal your lingerie and watch him internally combust. He’ll struggle to regain his focus to continue his work and end up taking you right there in the study or dragging you back to your room. not very gentle when it comes to your lingerie because he’ll rip it apart and inform you that he’ll get you more before bending you over.

Caranthir loves the fact that you’re smaller than him which gives him free rein to manhandle you. Tossing you about the bed, dragging you down to the edge or positioning your legs to any position he desires. Because he’s an overly buff elf from years of fighting, he’ll rest some of his body weight atop yours, pinning you into the mattress so you can’t move. Caranthir wants you to lie there and take the rough pounding he’s giving you. The little squeaks you make as he’s pushing you into the surface as he drives his hips into you are the epitome of his pleasure and enjoyment. Better yet, when you struggle to take him and complain about him being too big or else he’ll tear you – the alarms are going off in his head to finish you right there and then.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Not the most flamboyant member of the family, thus he sticks to the basics – bedroom and his study. The courtroom as well, given that it’s late at night and no one’s patrolling. It’s a private and intimate event between you both that should be conducted behind closed doors – no one gets to observe such a precious moment between you both. Knowing how much his brothers also tease him, very sceptical about sleeping in their homes should he be invited. It all depends on which of his brothers, if Maedhros and Maglor, he’ll bend and make the exception to sleep with you but only behind closed doors. Not for his other brothers. If the two of you are far from civilization and deep in the forest, should you ask for sex, he might conform and give in to your wishes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Meaningful reasons, lingerie, your fine ass in some tight pants and calling him by his title. Caranthir has moments when he’d look at you with hearts in his heart and circling his head and think about how lucky he is to have you in his life despite all the wrongs he has committed. The way you stand up for him or cherish and adore all the little things he does for you without complaining makes his heart flutter. It drives him to do something romantic for you and often, it’s a soft session. Lingerie is also another way to get him into bed and even quicker because as much as he tries to resist, it’s impossible and you know this, which is why you wear them often. Upon sightings, he’ll freeze and count to three because you’ve got him in the palm of your hands, and he knows this.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you with anyone or partake in public sex. Degrading you is also off-limits; he knows when he’s dirty talking some phrases may slip out but it’s never to the extent to degrade you and make you feel any less than you should. He would also hate it if you constantly bombarded him for sex. Caranthir’s a Lord and a very busy one, not all the time he would appreciate if you came barging into his study demanding to sleep with him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s good with oral, though it’s not always a part of every session. He’s a bit rough and aggressive with his actions – dragging you down to meet his face and then spreading your legs far apart. There’s the preference for using his fingers over his tongue or he’ll combine both to get you off quickly. Most of the time, his goal is to make you squirt, an enjoyable fantasy of his. The first time it happened, he aimed to have you squirting that same night again – didn’t care that he overstimulated you. Sometimes when he’s stressed and requires an output, he’ll give you the opportunity to ride his face to your liking.

As for receiving, he’ll never say no to you sucking him off especially when he’s stressed or jealous. His movements are rough and quick as he holds your head and guides his cock in and out of your mouth. It’s rare he let you control the pace since he prefers everything at a faster pace to get him off. Doing so really gets him into that headspace of fucking you hard and fast and it also makes him merciful when it comes to your begs and pleas. There are days when he'll allow you to go at the pace you desire and sit back in his office chair with a hand in your hair. The sessions are a lot slower and dragging but it allows for his climax to be intense given the proper build-up.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The majority of the time Caranthir’s pace is fast and rough, it’s rare for him to be very slow and sensual. Even when his motivation for sleeping with you is meaningful, there are moments when his pace would switch up and become a mixture. One minute he’s holding you closely and slowly thrusting his hips to drag his cock along your walls, the next he’s pushing you into the mattress and taking you to pound town. Amidst his rough thrusts, his mind is still clear to look out for any signs of discomfort from you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’ll admit, he enjoys quickies during times of stressful events or meetings. Quick to inform you to meet with him in your chamber for a fast session before returning to your daily routine. Unlike others, he doesn’t make the effort to remove many clothing articles besides your underwear. He does want to feel your skin against his, but due to the layers of clothing you’re both wearing, you’d spend almost the entire session undressing each other carefully. Thus, you both just stick to removing at least one article of clothing and then get down to business. For quickies, he’d have you pressed against the wall or sitting in his lap.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The most risk he’d ever take is roleplaying King/servant and having you ride him in the throne room late at night as well as taking you in the forest. He’s fearful of someone walking past and encroaching on your little private moment and having word spread about their Lord’s late-night activities. You could always see his nervousness as he’s fucking you during a late-night session – eyes darting around the room and checking the windows – even though he’s the one who initiated the idea. As for taking you in the forest, he’s a lot more relaxed since you’re both far from civilization, thus he’s a lot more relaxed when taking you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Caranthir has lots of stamina but isn’t the type to go for many rounds like his siblings. Two to three rounds and he loves eek them out, so they cover a good thirty minutes each. Whether you’re able to go another round or not is all up to you and once you appear tired, he isn’t even going to propose the question. The session will be up and over and a bath with be prepped for you. If you two haven’t seen each other in months, then you can expect more rounds – not exactly an all-nighter – and they’ll be a mixture of rough and sensual. Whenever his jealousy strikes and his anger is boiling, you can bet that you’re not leaving his bed anytime soon until you’ve lost your voice or can’t walk.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It’s almost as though he’s between a rock and a hard place when it comes to the usage of toys because he wants all your pleasure to be from him but understands that not all the time he’s available to pleasure you himself. Caranthir becomes jealous of the toys you turn to for your pleasure and always stares them down with a frown marring his ruddy face. Like why would you turn to a dildo when you have him and his fingers? At the same time, during a punishment session, he’ll whip out your dildo or vibrator (if Middle Earth ever decides to have one) and overstimulate you or use it as a prop to deny your orgasms. Lord forbids if vibrator underwear existed then you could kiss your ass goodbye, he’s abused it on you. If you’re ever lucky, when he wants to get himself in the mood, he’ll ask you to ride your dildo as he strokes himself off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, this baby loves to tease the life out of you and wants to make you cry with it. He’ll bound your limbs to the bedpost and have a field day. From fingering you to using you to get off, bringing you to your high and then pulling away last minute to jerk himself off and cum all over your chest or make you swallow him. All the while he’s listening to your pleas and begs, using them to get himself off faster. He doesn’t blindfold you at this moment because he wants to see the fury behind your eyes as he makes you snap. Though, it never goes on for overly long because, in every session, Cara always ensures that you have at least an orgasm despite his teasing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

A grunter and groaner, not much of a moaner. His face would be buried in the crook of your neck to hide the sounds he makes – he gets embarrassed by them. Prefers to talk or remain silent. The first time you two had sex, he was constantly biting his lips refusing to moan because he didn’t think you would want to hear the sounds he made. It took him multiple attempts of getting him to make a sound before he did, and when it happened, you did everything in your power to make it constant. He’ll sigh and release little soft airy moans, but they aren’t overly loud – might have to stretch your ear to hear them. Tell him to dirty talk about how good he’s making you feel, and he’ll be loud about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There are moments in his life when his insecurities devour him along with assistance from the outside world and he requires reassurance. Here is when he’ll sit back and become submissive, allowing you to take care of him. It’s mostly body-worshipping him and kissing all his scars, freckles and ruddy skin while whispering compliments and praises into his ear and skin. Things tend to have become overwhelming for him and tears are shed, so you’ll have to hold him close. It’s a strange request from him in wanting to be body-worshipped when he appears broken and hurt from all the comments, since he tends to distance himself, but you normally comply.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s not overly long but he’s girthy, like very girthy and his cock packs some weight to it, so when it’s nestled in your walls you feel stuffed. It’s a difficult stretch when he takes you and requires lots of opening up. His cock is straight and doesn’t have many veins to it, probably one or two and the head is quite bulbous, so it rests snuggly in your walls. He was insecure at first because his brothers all have lengths to their cocks and are above average whereas his cock is just average. But he grew out of it when he realized that he had great features which enhanced the pleasure you received.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not a very high sex drive, it’s somewhere in the middle and nowhere near Celegorm and others in the family. His drive is akin to Maglor – only seeking you out when the moment calls for it or heavily stressed. As mentioned, he doesn’t like the idea of being pestered for sex constantly partially because his drive isn’t that high like yours. At the beginning of your relationship, when you both indulged in sex for the first time, he was secretly trailing behind you hoping that you would have initiated more time together. As Beleriand rolled around it became inconsistent due to him having enough things on his plate to deal with, yet he still puts aside time for you both.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Caranthir isn’t one to fall asleep immediately after sex, he mostly stays up to ensure that you’re alright and not injured or overly tired before dealing with himself. He’ll lie next to you and watch as you doze off mid-conversation with a soft, loopy smile on his face. He can’t help but feel warmth building in his chest as he watches you struggle to stay awake to pillow talk. Depending on the situation, if he has to return to paperwork, he’ll ensure that you’re tucked in and fast asleep before spending some quality time so you don’t feel used. If he doesn’t have anywhere or anything to do, he’ll stay snuggled up in your arms until sleep takes over.

Masterlist

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

#silm smut #caranthir x reader #Carnistir #Morifinwe #Caranthir #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanon #house of feanor #feanorians #middle earth x reader #middle earth headcanons #middle earth imagine #x reader smut #x reader fics #x reader insert #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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@peregrintook Here’s the first post I made regarding my enthusiasm for the show BUT to answer your questions here;

- No they didn’t fire Tom Shippey. That’s a pretty prominent misconception going around. And honestly if they had fired him? I woulda been happy about it, he was incredibly present for the Jackson trilogy and look where that got us. But no, Tom Shippey has stated he left the project after working on it for a while for his own I think work reasons and there was no firing or dramatic walking out or any such thing. He’s also not the only Tolkien Academic working on RoP! Carl Hostetter, guy who produced the Nature of Middle Earth, for one was involved in the linguistics for the show (Quenya is going to be spoken regularly and Adunaic script plays a part). Dr Corey Olsen has also seen the project through from pretty much it’s inception as far as I’m aware. But also like... I want to be clear, you don’t need a Tolkien Academic to write a good tolkien adaptation. Someone who’s really familiar with the source material and extraneous books and the complexity within the canon? Sure, but that doesn’t necessarily mean an Academic but kjasd I won’t get on my high horse about the state of Tolkien academia today right now. Point is, they had more than enough people familiar with the text onboard. Which actually brings me nicely to the second part.

- Haven’t heard ‘they didn’t read the silmarillion’ before but no! The show runners, writers and even actors were all either silmarillion-style-nerds before the show or joined their ranks during production. Robert Aramayo actually got so into the books that he started organising salons to discuss specific elements of the text, which is so funny to imagine. And anyway, where has this idea come from that the Silmarillion is the book to read for this section of history? There’s essentially the same info about the Akallabeth in the Silm as there are is the Appendices. The unfinished tales has more to do with Numenor in it and they’ve been quoting stuff from there too. They don’t have the rights to the silm, or the unfinished tales, but they also have special allowances given by the tolkien estate to add in things from those sources anyway. Essentially if you’re hearing someone say ‘they didn’t even read the silmarillion!’ #1 they’re wrong and #2 they probably don’t know all that much about the Akallabeth or it’s sources themselves.

- Lastly jasdh it’s... a star! The basic eight pointed form of the so called feanorian star turns up everywhere in tolkien canon, including on gondorian imagery atop the white tree seven times to represent the ‘seven stars seven stones and one white tree’ poem. The Galadriel we meet in the show is a Commander of Gil Galad’s armies, and Gil Galad is covered in these stars in the show, he’s also got elbereth embroidered into his cloak. The stars likely mean either noldo, or just Gil Galad full stop, both of which are perfectly reasonable uses of an eight pointed star.

There you are, hope that helps!

#rop #rings of power #the rings of power #rop ama #erran ama #chats #peregrintook

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runawaymun · 1 year

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If you're still doing it - how about Celebrimbor? If he's competing with Celebrian for your Elrond OTP he's gotta have some interesting headcanons to go with.

This has been sitting for ever sorry!! I've been meaning to get around to it because Celebrimbor is Best Boy.

1: sexuality headcanon

IDK I view him as being very open and not really caring so much about who he's attracted to. If the vibes click then the vibes click and he definitely enjoys sex, but he also isn't one of those people who has a preference in partners, nor does he really go out of his way to seek them. He's a very affectionate and attentive person in general, though, both with friends and with partners.

2: otp

Brimbrond. I literally can't say enough about Brimbrond. I just love the idea of them being very close in the Second Age, (with a bit of hero worship on Elrond's part that Celebrimbor finds very cute). I love the idea of Elrond being enamored with Celebrimbor, and Celebrimbor being enamored with this gorgeous ainur-like creature (funnier when you add Silvergifting into the mix...because I guess that Celebrimbor is just a maia-fucker). Love the idea of Gil being the one to introduce them and give them a little nudge. There's a bit of camraderie that comes from being able to speak Quenya with each other, and with my headcannon that Elrond picked up a Feanorian accent from M&M... that makes it even better. And Elrond being able to fill Celebrimbor in on late M&M, and Celebrimbor being able to tell Elrond stories about what they were like in Valinor...stuff like that. And Elrond loves nothing more than encouraging and supporting people and so I think he'd do really well with such a highly gifted and creative partner. And I like to think that Celebrimbor maybe saw things in Elrond that others didn't -- like his gift for medicine, and nudged him toward it. Sure, Elrond is a REALLY good politician, but he's a peerless master of lore and master healer, and I like to think that Celebrimbor spotted that in him and gave him space to explore those things. They're both SO people and friendship oriented, too, so they'd do a really good job of balancing each other out and making sure that they're getting their needs met in the midst of focusing on everyone else. And idk, I headcannon them being very soft for each other, and it also is just very juicy for how things Ended. Because Elrond is the one that Gil-Galad entrusted with his host to go and liberate Eregion. And Elrond was too late to save Celebrimbor. And with all of that history...I just Think It's Neat.

3: brotp

Tie between Galadriel & Celebrimbor and Erestor & Celebrimbor! I absolutely adore thinking about how close Galadriel and Celebrimbor must be as two of the last surviving direct descendants of Finwe. How they both remember the Treelight, and How Things Were Before, how much pure time they have spent with each other. How Celebrimbor crafts the Elessar and Nenya for her, both works intended to preserve and protect her and her lands from evil. Incredible. And it's my headcannon that Erestor is the son of Caranthir, which would make him and Celebrimbor first cousins. I like the idea of Celebrimbor sort of taking his baby cousin under his wing & the two of them surviving together as the last descendents of Feanor (even though it IS incredibly sexy to have Feanor's entire line end with Celebrimbor. I'm very fond of Erestor Morofinwion).

4: notp

I don't really have one, to be honest, though sometimes I get a bit irritated with Silvergifting being so ubiquitous -- purely because I get tired of seeing it. I've never been a huge Silvergifting fan. But I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a notp. I ship it in the right context with the right characterization!

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

My boy has the world's WORST time blindness. Just...he gets going on a project and nothing else exists.

6: favorite line from this character

We don't have a lot of direct dialogue from him, but I am especially fond of "In the working of this he became a rival of the Dwarves, or rather an equal, for there was great friendship between the Dwarves of Moria and Celebrimbor, and they shared their skills and craft-secrets.", and of course "Speak friend, and enter." Celebrimbor's hubris (which Sauron definitely used against him) is forever fascinating to me, but I think his defining trait is his openness to those around him, to how he forges friendships and alliances just as he forges his masterworks. How incredible it is that he walks in the footsteps of his grandfather, who created three Objects of Power and zealously guarded them as his masterworks -- where Celebrimbor creates three Objects of Power and keeps not one for himself, instead giving them away to his friends. How he goes to his grave in defense of his friends under immense pain and torture. Something something that post which said how this all began with "get thee gone from my gate" and ended with Celebrimbor and "speak friend and enter". I'm feral, okay? He's just so good. He's so good. I am clenching him in both fists.

7: one way in which I relate to this character

That hubristic desire to create a masterwork is something that resonates very deeply with me. I get way too wrapped up in trying to create something "perfect" and it gets lost in the sauce sometimes.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

The insistence that Silvergifting is canon. No matter how much we would like it to be, it's not. It IS very ubiquitous and it IS a fun ship, but it's not canon and I get very tired of the repeated insistence that it is (which I see a weird amount of going around). But in terms of the character himself, his wee baby crush on Galadriel is so embarassing for him. I can't take them seriously as a ship, because age-difference-wise it's about the equivalent of that time I met my baby cousin Beau for the first time. Beau is about seven years old and he imprinted on me like a baby duckling and got a wee crush. And I just feel like that's how Galadriel feels about Celebrimbor. Like 'aw, that's adorable and kind of weird. Love my baby cousin though'.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinnamon roll! Too good! Too pure! Too precious! A bright ray of Telperion's light!! <3 I would die for him.

#celebrimbor #elrond #brimbrond

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afaramir · 2 months

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For the wip ask game, I kinda have a feeling this is abt faramir, so middle-earth history exam and may i learn more about [indistant screaming noises] elrond and elros and earendil and faramir, pretty please?

HAHA YOU KNOW IT!! yeah i literally just listed all the silly names that i gave each of the major scenes in the faramir goes to rivendell au in the outline document. elrond elros earendil and faramir is here but ok YES so the middle-earth history exam that i assigned myself and promptly proceeded to fail. (@bossuets also asked about this one!!)

this name really doesn't apply anymore because ive figured it all out but its a relic from when i felt so so so evil about the part where faramir arrives in rivendell. because i think a lot about how faramir like has this reverence towards elves and yet kind of doesn't know that much about them - except presumably he's begged stories off of gandalf before so hes got to know Something right? just like...[historian going anywhere] "blorbo from my career was here" is the emotion that i feel like im trying to capture in his head. and while i was working on the scene i got way too in my head and got stressed out about Not Knowing Things. rereading it now to pick a paragraph though i must say its pretty good :3

it seems as he stands there, transfixed, that the valley calls to him. sings in strange, musical voices in languages so old he has only ever seen them written - and after a time he realizes that it is no seeming. he cannot yet see them, but elven voices rise in heralds’ cries, and in turn he lets himself be drawn to heed them. he finds then that his weariness has left him, and sure-footed he goes forth, descending the steep path. he knows it cannot be true, but it feels as if within these sheer cliffs lies a land which the shadow shall never touch. it is a place weighted by thousands more years of history than gondor has ever dreamt of, yet it carries it all so lightly, this bright valley where it is every season of the world at once yet at its heart is always spring, the bloom of new bud and new life. it is no natural thing to behold, and he should quail from it. it should be something too strange and great for his mind to comprehend. yet great strength he knows well; the deep limpid pool of it in mithrandir, the one time the wizard had let him see it, and in his father very much the same. more so, indeed, than either of them would like. and as for strangeness - he has known strangeness in himself all his life. if not for his father he would be the only one quite like him in all gondor, and some days he still feels like it. whatever lies at the heart of imladris is strange indeed, yet he feels as if he knows it already, as close and familiar as any brother. it shall not bring him to harm.

i just. rivendell as a place that feels like a hug is so precious 2 me. and we're coming directly off faramir having The Worst Journey Of All Time so he is just sinking into it all like its a feather mattress. and he deserves it!!!

there's also a part in there a couple scenes down where he sees the feanorian star in the iconography and is like. HEY. ?????. its so self indulgent but there was a fun numenor parallel in there that im proud of. heres two sentences for your enjoyment.

an age ago the banner of the high king and the star of the noldor marched to war together, and fell together too. perhaps the seven stars upon his breast and the eight-pointed one before him are of the same make. a memory of a legend long past, too dearly held to discard.

ALSO I KNOW u got a repeat so if u feel like sending another u know im always down to talk about the au lol

#from the inbox #sweetshire #thank u again friend<333 #faramir goes to rivendell au

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havenotwillnotreadthebooks · 6 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Got tagged by @elevenelvenswords (kudos, thanks for the tag my dude) so here we go 7:P

How many works do you have on AO3?

21, two of which were co-authored by others.

What fandoms do you write for?

These days I write for the Silmarillion, as it’s my biggest hyperfixation currently. I used to write MCYT fics (my last biggest hyperfixation, lasting about 3yrs), but I’ve long since run dry of mcyt fic ideas.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Funny enough, because of everyone else’s hyperfixations my non-silm fics are still top 5, even tho they’re so much shorter than my more recent works lol

(1) Many vegetables, one soup

(2) Close your eyes, let them reawaken Red

(3) MCYT Whumptober 2022 (and then some)

(4) Cradle Brothers

(5) Meteor

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love to give bonus facts about the fic in my comment section.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either “I keep my enemies closer than the mirror ever gets to me” because of the canon angst foreshadowing or “I take scraps from dinner as little parts of love” because the ending is bittersweet in hindsight of canon (and because it made someone in my comment section cry lol)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Staccato, Familiar Acceptance and (somewhat) reconciliation are prime in the 2nd chapter.

Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! I don’t write very controversial topics, very long fics, or in very large fandoms, so at the moment I’m just a small fish in the pond. No hate nor attention comes for the small fish.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ve written a scene where inexplicit sex was implied to be happening, but I don’t know if i’ll ever write anything with explicit sexual content (Disclaimer: I’m an adult).

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

The only crossover i’ve ever posted is an abandoned wip in “Discontinued Hermitcraft WIPS - chapter 7” It was a hermitcraft and Phasmophobia crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, no.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! Though I’d be open to it if anyone wanted to (given they asked permission first).

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! A discontinued original work titled “Shattered Stars” and a fnaf fic co-authored with a friend titled “Many vegetables, one soup”

What’s your all time favourite ship?

These days it’s either Silvergifting (silm) or Scarian (hc)

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

An unnamed fic where Post-Canon, everyone is reembodied in Valinor and Russingon + Kidnap Fam are all together Happy Family Style.

Except, so very ago Fingon & Maedhros adopted a tiny Gil-Galad together, Maedhros left at an early age and never treated Gil like his kid afterwards so Gil is real bitter towards Maedhros. Elrond wants them to reconcile but it’s not going well.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Elrond. I’ve met Maedhros Feanorian and he found nothing of value in me.”

Elrond cringes. Maedhros flinches back as if slapped.

What are your writing strengths?

Not sure. Probably writing angst that hurts readers in the trauma epicenter, since i’ve made a few people cry with my fics.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Pretty sure everything needs to improve, but i’d say descriptions and character placement. Maybe pacing too.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it a few times for Sindarin & Quenya (reluctantly) but I wouldn’t touch that hot potato for irl languages. Pretty neat when other writers do it tho.

First fandom you wrote for?

Five Nights at Freddy’s, somehow. I wrote a single fic for that fandom but it was my first.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

“I take scraps from dinner as little parts of love” I put so much symbolism, emotion, and thought into this fic. It’s my favorite brainchild for sure. I’m working on giving this brainchild a sequel sibling, too.

Tagging: @crystalcatgamer @foolofatook001 @melestasflight

#ask game #fic recs #i guess #half of these aren’t silm fics but hey mcyt is popular #tag.words

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ellrond · 1 year

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0 for elrond babes <3

2, 5-8 answered here!

What would their social media page/activity be like? Non-existent for the most part, I think. He might have a twitter where he posts and RTs about social issues but that's about it. He uses Youtube only for ambience playlists too

3. My thoughts on their design/aesthetic? Hugo Weaving was my only Elrond for so long, and so I got accustomed to just thinking about him along those lines. It matches what is in lotro, too, and I love the 'in the box' thinking for him. Then Rob Aramayo came along.............and I'm in love. However, I'd love to see him in more PJ-esque costumes because I'm basic. 'Outside the box' designs are something I love too, and I love seeing interpretations of his design that go outside of the 'traditional Medieval England-inspired' sphere in terms of costumes. As for his face/skin tone/build, every interpretation is so wonderful to see. Basically the more content there is, the more varied it is, the better!

4. Physical headcanons? He sleeps much more than elves but less than humans - perhaps a few hours every night, 3-4 maybe - and always with his eyes closed. Where elves are more comfortable with stillness, he has more human habits sometimes - the tapping of a foot, running his finger and thumb together idly, picking the skin around his nails. When he was younger, he was also conscious of not taking up too much space, coming from when he was kidnapped and he wanted to remain as small and inconspicuous as he could. Over many years, he unlearned that behaviour, but it remains an impulse.

5. Social headcanons? He seeks out the company of those who give him peace, those who have similar outlooks on life. There is a time and place for debates on ethics and economics and politics and science and part of his role in societies is to engage in those, but in time that is his own, he just wants easy peace. Someone like Galadriel, who also feels the same, is a relief to be around, as often there is no conflict, only quiet company. In ages when there are so many different paths, he longs for the company of those who choose to take the same as him.

6. Psychological heacanons? He's incredibly good at controlling his anger. In his formative years he was around people who let anger drive them and he knew from an even younger age how destructive that could be. From birth he was taught how to be mild and considered, and it is not in his nature to become angry easily. When anger is roused in him he can control it and he finds ways to release the pressure in safe and harmless ways. Even in battle, he keeps his anger in check so that he can remain level-headed and in control. Anger is most often mixed with grief for him, and so on the rare occasions he has been overwhelmed, it has shown itself as defeated agony more than violent anger (when Gil and Elendil were killed, when he saw what happened to Celebrian, for example).

7. YOU made me ship Celebrimbor/Elrond in Rings of Power thanks to my favourite fic of all time To Partake written by RUNAWAYMUN. Celrond reigns supreme in my heart, though.

9. Headcanons about their past? Gil Galad and Cirdan learned through their spy network that Maedhros and Maglor held Elrond and Elros, and tried to negotiate for their release but were refused. If they had found out that others hadn't given up on them, Elros would have tried even harder to escape, but Elrond doesn't know if he would have tried. He grew to love Maglor especially, where Elros held the Feanorians in nothing but contempt until the day he died.

10. Content about them I'd like to see more of? Erotic art. I'm not kidding. I want to see his thick uncut dick way more than I currently do. Are you kidding me. Jesus. Let me have pornographic art of Elrond.

#elrond #runawaymun #ask

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noirbriar · 4 months

Text

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (1)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

Its t-t-time for more ramblings from me

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise. Starting off we have Erenion Gil-Galad.

--- 1] Gil-Galad

Erenion prides himself as an observant individual.He has to, as High King and ruler of Lindon. Especially with a large overly complicated court such as his.Even more so now with whispers of darkness rising quickly upon Arda once more. Now proven true by word from Cirdan, who is arriving to Lindon with an emissary of the Valar. The crown he bears is getting heavier, but Erenion trudges forward still, as he sits upon the throne with his Herald beside him.As he awaits for the arrival of their important guest.

The welcoming horns sound as the grand doors to his throne room opens, time crawling as each creak forces his court's mumbles to cease. "Lord Cirdan of Mithlond!And- ah! T-the - Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower!"

His court is now in uproar, whispers and gasps flying across his hall as the newly arrived Lords greets him. Dressed in simple traveling garb with long golden tresses flowing past his shoulders, a gentle light emanates from his being.This is the balrog slayer reborn, by the grace of the Valar.

As Cirdan ends his introduction, Glorfindel steps forward,the strong tenor resounds clearly in his hall, announcing himself and delivering words of his duty from the Valar. At the same time, Erenion begins to ponder in his mind.Even with Cirdan here to vouch for his identity, a skeptical part of the King wonders if he is truly Glorfindel of the legend with little to none of Gondolin survivors remaining-

"...Its truly him." The accented quenya was barely a whisper amongst the humming noise of his court, and the High King had to stop himself from physically turning to the voice coming from behind Elrond. From his Herald's advisor and shadow, Erestor.

And it seemed he was not the only one to notice the old feanorian general either as he notices Glorfindel's gaze was not at him now, but to where his Herald was- Dear Eru above...what is this?

---

"I give my thanks, Your Majesty, for this feast in my honour. Even though I wish my arrival was with better news-" Glorfindel bows humbly, the sindarin flowing stiffly from the Lord. A glass of cold wine in hand as he addresses the High King in the quiet alcove away from the crowd.

"Do not dwell on this, Lord Glorfindel, be at ease. It is with you here that we are now embolden, and ready for what may be ahead." Erenion smiles, noticing the uneasiness of the warrior. It looks like the Golden Lord is having a hard time in this strange era, and sadly, it shows.

Every elf who has heard the songs and tales of Gondolin had been so eager to meet Glorfindel and in return, the famed Lord of old returns each greeting kindly without pause with a smile. Though over the days, there is an air of detachment and emptiness he senses from him as time drags on.

It seems unfortunately, politics will soon claim another victim first before even darkness approaches.Yet there is little Erenion is able to do to ease the weary elf reborn. There is an awkward air but thankfully, Elrond approaches the duo. His entrance as timely as ever, dressed in elegant earthy hues that he favours.His ever dutiful guard trailing behind draped in his usual black and a touch of silver jewellery, almost as an afterthought for the festivity.

"Your Majesty! My Lord! I hope everything is well! " Ah, that eyebrow was a sign that his Herald is rather displeased that his King have abandoned him to the wargs that are the new Ladies of his court eager for their King's attention.

He'll get over it.

"Indeed, we are just taking time to acquaint ourselves better, Elrond. Come, join us." Erenion greets joyfully, "You both have met but we had hardly the time for more with all the dreadful meetings back to back for weeks!" "And I'm certain my Grandmother Idril and my father Earendil will be horrified by my lack of manners too! For Lord Glorfindel will always and forever be, a honoured elf in my family." Elrond adds with a light polite laugh.

"It is I, who is blessed to meet the grandson of my once liege Turgon and son of my dear friend, Idril." Glorfindel replies lightly before quietly withdrawing back into himself as inconspicuously as possible.

A soft cough brings the 3 high born elves' attention to their fourth.

"Ah!And look how terribly remiss I have been in my manners! Rude I am once again to have missed out in introductions. Lord Glorfindel, this here is Erestor, my faithful assistant and advisor."

Erestor steps forward and bows in greeting. While Glorfindel stares at the shorter elf in wonder.

"Ai! Don't be fooled by his quietness, this one has a sharp tongue, let me tell you that." Erenion quips wryly, in effort to lighten the unusal mood. "I believe you both might be acquainted?"

It was a peculiar thing Erenion had wondered since Elrond has mentioned that evening after Glorfindel's arrival. Was the fact that his advisor off handedly mentioned he recognises the Lord of the Golden Flower and is absolutely certain of his identity. The first though that immediately came to mind is that the two interesting individuals apparently have a history-

"We aren't." Erestor's accented quenya shakes both the King and Herald out of their little popped bubble, like eager birds appalled as they watch their seed bowl stolen away right before their very eyes. "Erestor...? Erestor." Glorfindel finally whispers under his breath, as if he is trying out the feanorian's name on his tongue, " So that is who you are. We finally meet, Lord Erestor."

"I am but no lord, Lord Glorfindel. Though I am honoured to meet the famed Lord of Gondolin properly this time around. Proud as I am to know you have remembered a mere soldier of Lord Maedhros and Lord Maglor. " Erestor answers smoothly in old quenya.

"Your dance with your swords was not something a mere simple soldier can accomplish." Glorfindel's melodious quenya flows, his eyes glazing over as memories washes over him," and your eyes shine then even in through the darkness of that dreadful day." "I must be honest, Nirnaeth Arnoediad was my first true battle unskilled as I was, we simply all did what we must," the Feanorian admits softly," It was much thanks to the host of Turgon and your warriors that day. We had all...lost too many."

"Aye...that we did, and it seems we will still do." Glorfindel mourns softly.

The advisor steps closer, snapping Glorfindel out of dreadful thoughts by being so close in his space with his intense presence. As Erestor always does, both on the battlefield and in a council meeting.

"Yet we endure. For those we lost and those who still live."

Glorfindel straightens up and stares at the shorter ellon before him intently. His eyes filled with tree light studying this curious advisor with unwavering grace.

Meanwhile, all Erenion and Elrond could do, is stare on silently, observing the two before them like strangers behind a veil.

It was a while, before Erestor finally blinks slowly and breaks the gentle cradle of silence around them.

"It might be presumptuous of me, a mere underling. I came with a motive,Lord Glorfindel."

"Oh?How bold.What may that be?"Glorfindel press on with a tilt of his head.

"By the permission of my Lord," with that Erestor gave a nod to Elrond who quickly nods back in acknowledgement to hide his poorly hidden distraction, "I have arranged a small meeting with civilians I know who have hailed from the White City who linger on these shores still. Perhaps, my Lord, tired and busy you must be with your schedule, you would like to meet them?"

"Truly!?" Glorfindel's eyes shine brightly for the first time since his arrival to Lindon as he clutches Erestor's shoulders eagerly.His wine glass almost meeting a dreadful end in pieces on the ground if not for Erestor's lightning quick reflex,catching and pushing the glass back into the excited warrior's grasp.Although unfortunately, much of the wine now decorates the floor.Erestor can only blink owlishly back at his sudden enthusiasm.

" Then, please, Master Erestor! Do arrange it at your nearest convenience! It pleases me greatly to meet my fellows once more!" "Certainly, with permission of His Majesty? I'm afraid I may have caused chaos to any of the planned meetings you may have with Lord Glorfindel." Erestor turns to Erenion, switching back to sindarin, who then gives the unpredictable advisor a tired look.

"I expect nothing less from you Erestor, because that is what you do for me. Chaos. But yes, by all means." The High King has to admit begrudgingly, the sly feanorian always seem to know what to do. More than his own advisors it seems...a pity his loyalty is only to his Herald. Though he is uncertain how much he can reign in that wild impudent spirit anyways.

With a bow, Erestor excuses himself in the name of duty. He lays a hand over the large palm hand resting on his shoulder gently. While the dark haired ellon's other hand glides over the Golden Lord's fingers, plucking the now empty wine glass away with care as he slowly turns around. The dark figure leaves, fading into the crowd, with Glorfindel's bright gaze lingering on as the ellon glides away with a whisper of dark robes that leaves not a trace behind in his wake.

Erenion Gil-Galad is High King of Lindon and ruler of the elves.Though in that moment, as he shares a look with Elrond before sipping his now warm wine, he felt like an intruder in his own domain.

---

A/N: I have no idea where this is going but somewhere?

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

#glorfindel #erestor #glorestor #the silmarillion #ficlet #erenion gil galad #gil galad #elrond #coughing up more randomness

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