#silmarillion oneshots

[silmawensgarden]

Only an ocean away

Maglor x reader

Prompt: Sending you a request for Maglor x reader where reader finally brings him home from his millenia of wanderings on the shore? (Home could be to Rivendell or Valinor or where you think would fir best!)

Requested by: anonymous

A/n: I really liked this idea of coaxing Maglor back home to Valinor through Rivendell. I decided on a chance encounter for reader & Maglor. I really hope you enjoy it and thanks so much for your request!

Word count : 1,8k

Warnings: none really

Today was a strange day, there was something in the air that felt heavy and familiar at the same time. Nevertheless you continued on your way back towards Rivendell. You had gone out for a few days to collect herbs in the nearby forest. The evil of Sauron had been subdued a small while ago. A small while for elves that is. The forest had once been filled with horrid creatures, nowadays surprisingly some incredibly rare herbs grew there. Despite some dangers from the remaining wild animals, the trek through was worth it. Your heart felt heavy at some point on your way back so you decided to change direction for a little while. Making your way towards the sea shore you finally felt yourself relax a little. It's been a while since you came here. The salty air reminded you of your home far away. Your home was in Valinor, not far from the shore. In your youth you used to come to the sea shore to play with your friends. The salty air made your heart yearn for those days with your friends.

You sat down by some rocks on the shore. The sand on this beach wasn't nearly as pearly white and gem like as in valinor, but it has it's own beauty. You've come to see Rivendell and it's surrounding environment as your second home. Out of nowhere a strange creaky sound came from behind you. Your breath hitched and you carefully turned around, ready to fight off whatever might be preying on you. However when you looked behind you, you saw nothing. You looked around with a confused look on your face. Then the sound came again. This time you saw something scuttle away into a cave. The last bit you managed to see was something that looked like torn clothes. Your curiosity got the better of you and you slowly moved towards where you had seen the muddy red cloth.

As you stepped forward behind the rock you sat on you saw a crude little cave hewn into the rock formation further back. It looked like something moved in there. It could be a child... you thought. In that case it might've been lost for some time judging by the poor condition of the piece of cloth you saw. You walked closer to the cave to inspect whether you were right. Just before you managed to get to the entrance an incredibly hoarse and creaky voice shrieked at you from inside. You could still manage to understand that it was likely a male, but nothing else. Taking up all your courage you stepped into the cave entrance and were met with a rusty dagger in front of your face. Behind the dagger sat what appeared to be a malnourished and traumatised elf. The elf had no strength left in him as even trying to keep the dagger pointed at you cost him so much energy that his arm was shaking uncontrollably. He had dark eyebags under his incredibly blue eyes and his features were sunken. You caught a few scars on his arms while you took in his appearance.

You wanted to get him out of the cave and maybe even manage to get him some help in Rivendell. Poor man has been through it it seems. You decided to sit down and see if he understood any language you knew.

You tried Sindarin first, he seemed to respond to it but did not speak it. Instead he spoke back to you in a mix of what you could only guess was first age Quenya. At this point you regrettably had to thank your tutors from when you were young for forcing you to sit through Quenyan literature classes. Seeing no other option besides attempting to speak to him in Quenya you gave it your best shot.

"Hello?...Not fear me, I am friend, not bad. Who are you?" You managed to wrangle out some poorly formulated sentences. The grammar would have sent your old tutor in to a shock induced coma if he had heard it. It appeared to be the same for this elf. The expression on his sunken face couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than displeasure. So much for trying to be nice...

However despite his initial displeasure he decided to attempt to speak to you. You were having an awful amount of trouble understanding him. Not just because he was barely audible but also because you had slept through most of your literature classes. He spoke with a specific dialect that you couldn't place. Seeing how much trouble you were having he gave you a small smile and started speaking to you like you were a small child. Word for word, to see if you understood.

Now you felt like it was you who had been hiding in that crude little excuse of a cave.

After a little while of throwing words around with each other he had calmed down enough to understand that you weren’t going to hurt him. Slowly he came out of his cave and stood in front of you. It was immediately clear to you that this elf was much taller than you. By quite a considerable amount. It was a mystery to you how he managed to fit into that tiny space.

The two of you made your way back to Rivendell together. Walking slowly and taking many breaks as it appeared that your new companion could not walk very far for very long periods of time. He was so malnourished that his legs gave out frequently during the journey back.  During the journey you got to know each other better. The language barrier was still a big problem but you found creative ways to communicate with each other regardless.

After a full two and a half days of walking you finally arrived in Rivendell. You now also knew the name of your companion. Maglor. Maglor Fëanorion. It was surprising to say the least. But you dwelled little on the matter. By the looks of it, Maglor had already been through sufficient punishment. No need to lay any more on him. The healers rushed to take him to the infirmary so he could rest and gain some of his strength back. You promised him that you would visit in a few days once he is a little more stable.

A few days have passed and both you and Elrond have visited Maglor a few times. There’s been a rumor floating around Rivendell that Elrond could be related to the elf that was brought to the healers at the start of the week. You wanted to ask Maglor about it but weren’t sure if he’d tell you anything.

Things started to quiet down again as the weeks went by. Weeks turned into a few months and something started to grow between you and Maglor. At first it appeared to be a deep friendship but now it feels like it may one day be more. Only time will tell whether something could be between you.

Maglor was starting to make a speedy recovery now that a few months have passed. He no longer looked malnourished and could walk for a considerable amount of time again. His hair had grown fuller too. It pained you to remember how matted and gross it had looked when you first saw him.

However as time passes and seasons change so do our wishes. Your soul wanted to go home. So it became clear to you and a handful of others that you would be boarding the next available ship at the grey havens. You had talked this over with Elrond and a few of your other friends, one of which was Maglor.

He felt sad about your upcoming departure be he refused to let it show.

And so the day of your departure finally arrived.

It was early in the morning, the sun has just barely come out of hiding. You stood still on the docks, taking in middle earth for what would likely be the last time. You wanted to go home, but a tiny part of you was having trouble letting go. Maglor had promised to meet you before you left. The majority of elves had boarded the ship already, you were the only one stalling the departure. Finally you saw a figure in the distance that appeared to be Maglor. He ran towards you, pushing through the crowd of people to get to you as best as he could.

“I am sorry for making you wait y/n! I tried to come here as fast as I could. I overestimated my ability to run….I am unable to run as much as I once could.” He said, smiling sheepishly.  

You smiled back and stepped a little closer to him. “It is fine, do not worry. We still have time before the boat leaves.”

Despite Maglor smiling warmly at you he was being torn apart internally. One part of him wished desperately to come with you, but a voice in his head told him he wasn’t worthy of returning to valinor and that he should forever remain in isolation.  “I am not certain that I can go with you Y/n….I…I must remain here in Arda.”

You were saddened by his words but decided not to push him. After all it wouldn’t be the last boat to leave for valinor.  “Maglor, no matter what or where if you decide to leave to valinor one day, know that I’ll only ever be an ocean away.” You smiled the best smile you could muster. It was in this moment that you came to the realization that you loved him. Yet you now would never get the chance to say it. It was now truly time for the ship to sail out towards valinor. There was no way that you could stall it any further. You said your goodbyes and boarded the ship. A coldness came over your heart and a tear slipped from your eye.

Maglor watched as the ship sailed out, boring holes into your back with his gaze. And then right at the least expected moment something took hold of his senses and he threw himself into the sea. The coldness of the sea forced him to swim forward as he called out to you. The elves on the boat saw him struggling to swim and threw out a fishing net to catch him up onto the boat.

He was drenched to the bone and shivering, but his smile was warmer than the sun on a summer afternoon.

He didn’t care anymore about people’s judgements and what the valar would say of his return. All he ever needed was you, and now that he had you…nothing else mattered.

[leucisticpuffin]

coirë | a stirring

“Thou callest this season beautiful,” he said one morning, watching shadows shift through the canvas as an attendant cleared the doorway of snow. “Forgive me, but I cannot see it.” “But thou hast seen it not,” protested Findekáno, setting aside his mortar and pestle. (The skill of preparing medicines he had picked up in the fearful days of the last winter, needing desperately to be useful, and yet unable to look at the wound wrought by his own hand.) “Not everywhere is so grey! Come, Russandol; I shall show thee why we name it so.”

Read the whole story on AO3

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— Out of the Woods | Maedhros *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst

▹ Words: ~8k

▹ Summary: Thrust into the world of Arda, you find yourself enraptured by the elven lord Maedhros. Yet nothing is ever easy in times of war as your love story unfolds and then unravels.

▹ Notes: Hi, hello, this is about 6k words longer than I intended. Oh well. This is a rewrite of a oneshot I wrote yearsssss ago, but thought it deserved a rewrite. I hope you guys like this because I deleted the original. You have no choice, YOU WILL LIKE THIS MORE. Please tell me you like it, I crave validation. Jk, jk...unless.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Golden. 

Glittering and gleaming. 

Opulent in an understated way and all too beautiful to be real. 

It was the only way to describe the lavish keep the armored guards escorted you into. Men with delicately pointed ears and unnatural beauty were both your protectors and jailers as they paraded you through the city. You weren’t familiar with your surroundings, never even heard of it. You feel as though a place as beautiful as this would be pasted on every tourist’s brochure and dream board. And yet there was nothing familiar.

Even the people seemed so different from you.

“You have brought a mortal woman before me; why is that?” his voice boomed as he sat straight back and stiff as a board on a lavish throne. You were speaking with the presiding ruler if the golden crown atop his head was anything to go by. He was tall and regal, only made taller by the raised platform his throne was built upon, his figure looming over you with an intimidating presence. 

His hair was like fire, falling in perfect waves that reached the middle of his back. His skin was porcelain and perfection, clear of any slight imperfections or marks that marred your own. He wore formal attire made from silk, with details of glittering gems that made him look like a sun. The heavy crown resting up his head was made of pure gold and dotted with jewels, each worth more than you’d ever make in a lifetime. But what captured your eyes were his own. Light green, they shone like the reflection of emerald leaves off a crystal clear lake. No poem or ballad could ever capture the beauty he possessed. 

He was ethereal, the poster child for what a king should be. 

One of the guards pushed you forward, and you nearly stumbled to the ground, but you’d caught yourself in time. You looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet and already being enraptured by him. A god, that’s what he has to be. There’s no other way he could look like that.

You must’ve died and now stand at the gates of heaven. In your current situation, the most illogical answer has become the only one that made any sense.

“T-they found me, your grace, in the...woods.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and your face flushed hotly as red stained your face. Did you address him adequately? Was there any correct way to address a literal angel? 

His gaze on you was sharp, making you shrink within yourself. His hair may have been made of fire, but he was entirely crafted from ice. Cold, biting, and bitter, you were surprised your skin wasn’t frostbitten. 

“She was rambling like a mad woman when we found her. Despite that, she seems harmless. We thought it best to present her for your judgment, your grace.” The guard spoke with a smooth and even tone, able to look at the elven man unflinchingly. Does one become accustomed to staring at the sun? They must if the guards can directly look at him.

“And so you deign to bring the mad woman before your lord?”

“Times are strange. She may be a gift from the Valar.”

A hush fell over the onlookers before a flurry of whispers filled the courtroom. The lord returned his attention to you, raising a single, inquisitive brow. He was assessing you, determining if there could be any truth to the guard’s words. It made you squirm under the weight of his eyes. They were too piercing and too invasive. He could see past your soul. Your deepest fears and thoughts were laid before him.

“Perhaps there is some merit to the words my guard speaks,” There was a lilt of amusement in his otherwise smooth, dulce voice. It nearly seemed mocking, the way he looked down on you. He leaned to the left side of his chair with his knuckles tucked under his sharp jaw, momentarily taking a more relaxed posture. Yet his gaze on you didn’t lighten; if anything, it became heavier.

“Have you been sent to us by the Gods?”

The throne room became quiet once more. 

Your heart hammered against your chest, a lump stuck in your throat. All eyes were on you, the undivided attention making you want to curl in on yourself. 

“I don’t know.” You mustered up the strength to speak, attempting to keep the fear drowning you out of your voice. Would he cast you out of the kingdom, leaving you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t survive in the woods alone, but you didn’t want to lie and be heralded as a sign of divine intervention. 

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the room’s walls closing in on you.

All there was to be done was hope he was as kind as fair.

He hummed in response, neither angry nor pleased. There was no grand statement or judgment, instead, he continued to inspect every detail of you. His eyes scanned you up and down in an almost clinical manner like you were a new art exhibit in his favorite museum. He took notice of your odd clothes, maintained teeth, and healthy hair. Strange for a human in these lands to be so… well groomed. Even with the mud that caked your body, you were cleaner than the other humans before you.

“You place me in a strange place. If I send you away, it may anger the Gods, yet if I allow you to stay, I may be dooming the very people who’ve put their belief in me.” He spoke in such a calm tone as if the fate of your life didn’t rest in his long fingers, each embellished with a ring. 

The anxiety made your body weigh a thousand pounds. You weren’t even sure your heart was beating, the impulse to check your pulse growing stronger. There was worry in your eyes, creases above your brows that were pulled together tightly. 

Yet you didn’t speak, unable to make your tongue form words. 

“Will you not plead your cause to me?” He leaned forward; both brows pulled upward, an almost challenging smirk pulling on his lips. 

Rendered speechless and playing the fool, you opened and closed your mouth as you tried to remember how to speak. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning back into his seat, his smirk pulling back into a nearly disappointed frown. 

“Very well. I shall make the decision for you.” 

You prepared to be condemned to the wilds, thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart. Head lowered, eyes counting the reflections of sunlight inside the room. Tears threatened to fall, but you forced them away. You would face your imminent death with pride.

“You will stay here.

Gasps of surprise filled the room, followed by mutters of the courtesans. You made no such noise, head snapping up to meet the elven lord’s gaze. There was surprise evident in your wide-eyed gaze. You’d expected the worst, yet that was not what you’d been given. 

“In time, we will learn if the Gods truly sent you to us.”

He nodded at the guards around you, and they helped you stand. Shaking and nervous, the guards held your body up as they guided you from the throne room to what would become your quarters. But over your shoulder, you spared one last glance at the elven lord, his green eyes watching your form disappear. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar--” You stumbled over the elvish text, unable to translate the rest of the sentence. There was a crease above your furrowed brows and a slight frown on your face. 

It had only been two months since you were unceremoniously dropped here, yet it felt as if no time had passed, but not in a good way. You were like a newborn babe, stumbling in the dark as you attempted to gain your bearings. The faint throb in your head warned you of a headache, encouraging you to put the book down. A warning you didn't heed, you were stubborn, determined to prove you could assimilate. 

The court has been a dizzying experience to get accustomed to. Most courtesans treated you like a curiosity, a pretty bird for them to teach silly words and feed salted crackers. They were nice enough and greeted you with pleasant smiles, but it all felt patronizing. As if you were nothing but a simpleton child, but perhaps that’s just how they viewed you; elves were immortal, after all. Nevertheless, they have treated you kinder than expected, correcting your choppy Quenya with lyrical giggles and coy smiles. 

The giant oak doors swung open, startling you. Looking up, you watched as Maedhros swept through the library. He grabbed a few books from the shelves and went to a table opposite the room. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and his clothes were more casual than what he would don at court. Your eyes followed his form, only looking down when he briefly looked up from his book. 

Heat flared to your cheeks, eyes returning to the book before you. You haven’t spoken with him since your initial meeting. He’d never invited conversation, and you were too terrified to do so. Instead, you stole glances at him whenever the moment presented itself, content to daydream about the Maedhros turning his eyes to you. 

He’d say hello, inquiring about your stay in Himring. You’d answer him shyly, looking up at him through your lashes. So enchanted by your beauty and quiet whit as the conversation continued, he’d invite you to take a stroll with him around the gardens and then--

Your daydreams were cut short by the loud thump of a book falling. Turning, you watched as one of the library attendants scurried towards the fallen three or so books. A soft sigh left your mouth, and your attention returned to the book you were struggling through.

Picking up where you left off, you struggled through the same sentence. No matter how many times you re-read it, the translation wasn’t clicking. What did tenn’ mean again? A grunt escaped your mouth, the pulsing headache returning. You shut the book, perhaps harder than necessary, and opted to fiddle with the bracelets you wore. 

Was it even worth struggling through this silly language? Surely you’d return home sooner or later and this grand delusion would be broken.

Yet the longer you’d spent here, the less likely the prospect seemed. You poured over every map and searched every geographical book, and nothing seemed familiar to the home you’d known. 

Lost in your mind, you didn’t hear the scratch of a chair being pushed back nor the light padding of footsteps approaching your table. Only when you felt someone’s presence beside you and red hair loosely hanging did you look up? Maedhros had stood beside you, leaned over to be at eye level with you. His expression was perfectly neutral, not portraying a single thought in his head. Tucked behind his back was his left hand, which he’d lost many years ago. There were whispers in court about how it happened, being hung from a cliff for thirty years. How terrible that must’ve been.

“You seem frustrated.” His common was not as smooth as his elvish, yet speaking a common language with someone was nice. Most of the elves here only spoke their native tongue. 

“It’s nothing, your grace,” you looked away from his gaze that was entirely too invasive. You didn’t want to risk that he really could read your thoughts; you didn’t want him to see how often they lingered on him. 

“Your lie would be convincing if you hadn’t spent the past hour stuck on the same page,” he breezily replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. 

Has an hour already passed? 

And how did he know you hadn’t flipped pages? Had he paid that much attention…? 

“Some words are confusing in their translations; no need to be concerned.” You didn’t want him to burden himself with such a silly thing. This wasn’t something a lord needed to concern himself with. There was also a flush of embarrassment creeping up on you. You wanted him to see you as competent and intelligent, not fumbling over simple translations.

“Allow me to offer insight. It is my native tongue, after all.” 

You stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. His expression never wavered, and you couldn’t think of any reason to dissuade him from helping you. Apprehensive, you grabbed the book you’d previously pushed away. There was a light shake in your body from nerves, and you prayed to whatever god there was that Maedhros wouldn’t notice. 

Flipping through the page, more delicate with it than usual to avoid Maedhros thinking you disrespectful, you pause on the last page you’d read. You point at the sentence you were struggling with and push the book toward Maedhros. 

He leaned forward to read the sentence, and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. His facial structure was sharp, with a tall, noble nose and a strong jawline. Pristine and void of imperfections, he was even more beautiful this close up. With each breath taken, the warm, heady cologne was enough to send you into a dizzy spell. It wasn’t fair for one person to be so…perfect. 

He whispered the sentence under his breath, then straightened his posture. As he did, you moved your eyes from his face, looking at the book as if that was where your eyes always were. His eyes met yours as he began to speak. 

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.”

You mimicked his pronunciation, awkwardly fumbling over the words as you did. The faint whisper of a smile appeared on his lips. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone. 

“Do you know what it means?”

“No, I was having trouble translating.” 

This time he allowed his lips to turn upward into a faint smile, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room. 

“It’s no wonder. This is in Sindarin. My understanding is you’ve been learning Quenya.” He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling it closer to him. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Quenya is an older dialect, though many of the Noldar still use it, whereas Sindarin is a newer version of the Eldar language.”

You didn’t respond, simply nodding your head as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. Maedhros closed the book much more gently than you initially did, though he made no move to stand.

“I apologize; I have yet to inquire about your stay here. Have you found the accommodations to your liking?” 

His question was nearly word for word what you fantasized he would say to you. Was he teasing you? Could he truly read your every thought, or was it just a coincidence?

“They’ve been great, better than I could’ve hoped.” You were nervous, so nervous it wasn’t even a joke anymore. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“And how do you find yourself settling in?” He seemed so relaxed and at ease; why can’t you be more like that. 

“I’m getting accustomed, but it’s all so different from the home I knew. I will admit, it is refreshing to speak with someone in a language I am familiar with.” 

Maedhros pauses, slightly tilting his head to the side, something flashing across his face.

“Forgive me; I did not think about how few people share a common language with you.” 

You shook your head once again afraid of accidentally offending him. “It’s no issue; if anything, it forces my Quenyan to improve.” You wanted to be reassuring, to show that you were more than comfortable with your current circumstances. The last thing you needed was the king thinking you were being difficult or ungrateful. 

“But it must be frustrating not being able to convey your thoughts clearly.”

You merely shrugged in response. It was, and sometimes it made you want to scream and break something, but you couldn’t admit that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful. 

Maedhros hummed in response and pushed his chair back, now standing at full height. 

“I must part from you, but perhaps we could meet here again tomorrow, if only so I may offer my translating abilities.”

A tentative smile appeared on your face, and you nodded in agreement. Maedhros tilted his head in a slight nod and turned, exiting the room with a flourish. 

Only once you were left alone did you let a high and girlish giggle leave your mouth. It echoed in the quiet library, and unbeknownst to you, Maedhros heard it on the other side of the door. 

And so a new tradition began as you and Maedhros met in the library every evening. You’d spend hours with one another, and within the first week, the excuse of studying linguistics had been forgotten. Enraptured in the presence of one another, you were both entirely unaware of the impending war.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 You were waiting by the gardens. 

Wearing a new dress, fiddling with the bracelets that adorned your wrists. You were so nervous yet equally excited. Maedhros had broken tradition, and instead of meeting you in the library, he asked to meet you near the gardens. 

Your heart was in your throat; nervous goosebumps were all over your skin. It was truly as if all of your fantasies had come to life. Light footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, and it made you turn. Maedhros, your intended partner, walked towards you, taking long strides. 

A smile was placed on your lips, and Maedhros matched it. Long ago had he shed the detached demeanor he so often presented to the rest of the world. Instead, he was open with his emotions - both good and bad - allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in a way so few people have witnessed. 

“You came,” he spoke as he closed the distance separating the two of you.

“How could I refuse?” Your smile widened, eyes in the shape of crescent moons. He laughed, low and smooth, offering his arm to you. Your hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, and it fits as if your hand was met for his. 

“Shall we?”

You motioned with your hand towards the gardens. “We shall.”  

The two of you walked in near perfect sync, wandering through the gardens, making quiet conversation with explosive banter. He was not as stern and rigid as he once appeared. With the moonlight reflected in his eyes and the stars making him shine, he seemed more like an innocent child than a hardened warrior burdened with war and trauma. 

You wanted to see this side of him every moment of every day. To see his eyes resemble glass and to hear his hearty chuckle as he threw his head back. Eventually, you gave up the guise of being interested in the flowers, even though they were quite beautiful. All your attention was focused on Maedhros, a sight you were determined to imprint in your brain. 

If you were to wake up tomorrow, back in your old bed, in your old apartment, you’d be happy to remember this moment and this moment only. You’d dedicate the rest of your life to writing poems about him, painting portraits, and writing overly embellished love stories. Anything to commemorate Maedhros and everything you’d wanted with him. Even if he didn’t return your affections quite as fiercely. 

“Tell me about your home. You never speak of it.” 

Your expression fell, your smile dimmed, and your eyes downturned. Home. You hadn’t really thought of it as much. It used to be a constant thought, a thing you wished on every falling star to return to. But now… You couldn’t remember the last time you made that wish. 

“It’s…different.” You fumbled over your words. How do you explain something you yourself hardly understand?

“In what way?” Maedhros pries, wanting to know more information. You’d be flattered in any circumstance or with any different topic. Yet the subject of home was complicated and one you hadn’t dared to broach with anyone.

“In every way.” A breezy laugh escaped your mouth, hoping to distract how tense you suddenly became. 

“I’d like to hear it all if you’d be willing to tell me.” 

“I--” You stuttered over the words, a lump caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Maedhros to bear your entire soul to him, but an inkling of fear gave you pause. Would he deem you a mad woman? Distancing himself and becoming as aloof as he once was.

Yet the two of you had grown so close as of late, and if you’d ever hoped to be more than friends, it would only be fair, to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m from this time.” You began, unsure of the best way to start.

Maedhros stopped, turning to face you. You nearly stumble but manage to catch yourself, meeting Maedhros’ gaze. 

“In what way?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing your hand into a fist. Fortune favors the bold. You have to be bold if you want this.

“I believe when I was dropped here, I was dropped in the past. My world is so different and so much more advanced in terms of technology.”

He gave you a hard stare, not speaking for a few minutes. The moments of silence dragged on, and you were half tempted to flee and never return. Yet your body had become so heavy, and your feet were bolted to the ground. There would be no escape. 

“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own words as he said them. “At the very least, I believe you believe in what you say, and you have given me no reason to distrust you.”

Your breath that had been caught in your throat was suddenly released as your body slackened. The wide grin you previously wore returned to your face, all the worry lines and creases on your face melting away. 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” You were breathless, a weight you hadn’t even realized was weighing you down, relieved from your chest. 

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, how confused you were.” His tone was soft and took a somber note, his eyes closer to an emerald green than the light color they previously were. 

“I managed to get by.”

Maedhros nodded, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. 

“Well, please indulge me then, and tell me all the wonders of your home. I’m sure you’ve longed to do as such; you assimilated so quickly, I never would’ve thought you were from a completely different time.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, a breath caught in your throat. Yet this time, it wasn’t from nerves or anxiety; no, the pounding in your chest was for an entirely different reason. It had everything to do with the softness in Maedhros’ eyes as he looked at you. 

And so you indulged his every question and whim, the two of you wrapping around the garden a million times, talking until the moon was at the highest point in the sky, and all was silent. 

You were exhausted, holding back yawns every other sentence, but you pushed through, soaking in the time with Maedhros. Who knew when you’d get another chance? But eventually, he caught on, noticing the droop of your eyes and the lethargic pace you walked with. 

He guided you back to your chambers with all the chivalry gone from your world. You expected him to say farewell and give a single nod, as he always did when parting ways. He did bid you farewell, his smile warm and vibrant, and he did dip his head into a nod. 

But he also placed a kiss on the very edge of your lips before turning and disappearing down the hall. 

Frozen, you stood there for who knew how long, face awestruck and hand resting where his lips previously had been. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Time had seemed nothing more than an illusion. 

It seemed to move around you, yet you were the same, unchanged by it. Physically, you may appear the same, yet everything is so entirely…different. Maedhros made quick work of letting you know he intended to court you, and who would you be to deny it. 

All the formalities and technicalities that came with courting royalty was dizzying, but Maedhros was always there to center you. Strolls through the gardens and long evenings in the libraries; it made everything more bearable. It was also worth the stiffness that came with court to see the child-like grin that would light up Maedhros’ face when it was just the two of you. 

But doubt was a terrible thing. 

You constantly feared you wouldn’t live up to not only his expectations, but the expectations of his people. You were a human among elves, and despite not aging, you knew the court talked. Their fascination with you long died out, and anyone who believed you were sent by the Gods was the minority. They hid sharp words behind pretty smiles and musical laughter, but you could see through the fakeness all the same. Their cruel words only helped reinforce the doubts you already had.

And you weren’t the only one weighed down by it.

Maedhros was a far cry from what he used to be. Before the oath, before the torment, and before all the death at the hands of his kin. Could he really be so selfish as to tie you down to him? You were blind to this of course. You knew he suffered from PTSD and trauma, but even as you held him under the light of the moon, you were never aware of just how deep his fears went. 

How when he wept in your arms, it wasn’t only for what he suffered, but what he may suffer when you decide you want better. When you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you. 

His anxiety twisted into something harsh, manifesting as anger rather than sadness. Yet even as he lashed out, you stayed. Your face would remain perfectly passive, seemingly unbothered by it. 

It was another one of those nights.

You both sat on the balcony attached to his chambers, feet dangling over the edge. It was improper for you to be in his bed chambers, especially so late at night, but you couldn’t care about court etiquette at a moment like this. 

Your arms were wrapped around Maedhros, keeping him as close to you as physically possible. His head rested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut as his breathing matched the rhythm of your heart. All was quiet except the occasional sniffle from Maedhros. But after a few moments he was the one to break it. 

He pulled himself away from you, not an inch of his body touching yours. His relaxed posture suddenly seemed so tense and proper; an austere expression falling over his face. The sudden change was enough to give you whiplash, all the worst of your insecurities coming to head.

A moment passed before Maedhros stood, returning to his chambers. Tentatively, you stood, following after him. What made him suddenly change, as if a light had been switched?

He walked across the room, to the decanter holding a red wine. Maedhros took his time pouring it into a crystal glass before bringing it to his lips and nearly downing it all in one drink. He sent it down and refilled the glass, continuing the same pattern. 

The entire time he refused to meet your gaze. Awkwardly you say at the end of his bed, intertwining your fingers in an attempt to distract yourself. It hadn’t worked, all your fears growing the longer Maedhros held the silence. Was it a contest? Was he waiting for you to poke and prod?

“We should dissolve our courtship.” 

If you hadn’t already been sitting, you could’ve fallen to your knees. One simple sentence, that was all it took to make the past years come crumbling to nothing. 

“What?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Why?”

Another glass of wine drank and another glass filled before he dared to answer.

“While I have enjoyed your company, I do not believe us suited to continue any further,” he said. Even still, he refused to meet your eyes. His hand gripped the table he stood before, his grip so tight you were half surprised it didn’t crack under the weight of it. 

“So that’s it.” Your voice was like stone; hard, cold, and unwavering. “You decide to end our courtship, yet you can’t even look me in the eye as you do it.” 

Maedhros didn’t move from his position, you however, stood from the bed. 

All the anger and frustration, needling insecurities and self doubt came bubbling to the surface. You didn’t bother to push it down, or rationalize it so much you can’t even feel anymore. It came together in one chaotic concoction and exploded. 

“Look at me.” You weren’t shouting, but there was force behind your tone. A warning and a threat all in one. Yet Maedhros still kept his back to you. You took three more steps towards him, nearly behind him. 

“I said look at me.” The volume of your voice became louder, the stone facade breaking and cracks of desperation shone through you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, you’d thought he loved you the same way you loved him.

Had it all been a mistake, were there signs and clues you’d missed along the way?

Finally Maedhros turned to face you, and within moments all of your anger dissipated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unshed ones exaggerating his red rimmed eyes. He looked absolutely broken, the worst you’d ever seen him. 

“Why are you doing this?” You dropped the facade of nonchalance. Tears began to well in your eyes, a slight waver in your voice as you spoke.

Still he didn’t speak. 

You closed the distance separating the two of you, grabbing his hand in yours, but he pushed you away. Still you attempted to grab it again and this time he didn’t bother rejecting your touch. 

“Mae please, what is the real reason for this?” You looked up at him like a doe, so wide-eyed and teary. Any shred of conviction he previously held onto crumbled as he looked at your face. 

He thought marrying you would be selfish, but perhaps this was the more selfish option?

“You deserve better. I can’t give you what you deserve.” 

A crease formed on your forehead as your brows furrowed. 

“Fuck it.” 

Maedhros blinked, stunned by your brash words. For a moment he thought he might’ve misheard, he’d never heard you speak like that. But it would appear he hadn’t misheard you.

“What?”

“I said, fuck it. I love you, and you love me, and god dammit, if you’re not best for me then I don’t want better.”

You moved one of your hands from his, cupping his chin, forcing Maedhros to meet your gaze, an attempt to show the sincerity in every word spoken.

“I love you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Your words hung in the room, imprinted on the floorboards and the walls.

The Maedhros’ lips were on yours. The kiss was quick and fervent, expressing everything he’d never be able to put into words. All the love and fear that clung to him like a shadow; his entire soul was laid before you. It was dizzying - you were drowning at sea, and Maedhros was your only lifeboat. 

You clung to his form, never able to get close enough, one of your hands wrapped around his lithe form while the other reached towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. He groaned against your lips and you swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss. 

Closer, closer, you needed to be closer. 

He pulled you just as tight as you were pulling him, just as desperate if not more so than you were. His one arm wrapped around your waist and held you against his body. His scent was intoxicating, that same heady cologne he’d been wearing when you first spoke in the library. Your teeth clacked against his, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him to know that every word you’d said, you’d meant. 

There wasn’t a universe you wanted to exist in without him. 

And while that thought terrified you, you repressed it, opting to deal with it later. 

Maedhros needed to know you were all in, and you’d spent the rest of eternity convincing him if need be. 

At some point he pulled back, the rise of fall of both of your chest and heavy breathing the only sound in the room. 

His hand moved from your waist and into your hair, finger combing through it. There were stars in his eyes that you surely replicated. 

“Forgive me, I was being foolish. I don’t want our courtship to end, you’re the woman I want to marry. I never want to leave your side and I promise to never send you away, I swear it.” 

A smile, small and delicate, lit up your features as you frantically nodded in response. Maedhros huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, muttering elvish endearments against your skin. 

You closed your eyes, basking in his presence and the musical sound of his voice. 

Oh to freeze this moment and live in it forever. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 Everything was silent and calm, but not in a way that would be soothing and leave behind a sense of weightlessness. Instead, it was harsh and grating, mile-high walls building up around you as you subconsciously prepared for...something. Anything that would cause a ripple and disturb this illusion that encased you. 

You couldn’t deny it anymore and continue to make excuses for what was so clearly right in front of you. War had brought devastation, and with that came change, and with change came the end of a life you’d built. For so long, Maedhros was able to ignore the Oath he and his brothers had sworn. The Silmarils were forgotten but only for a time. Word had reached Ossiriand that the son of Beren and Luthien had inherited the Silmaril his parents had recovered. 

Maedhros, once noble and as bright as the sun, now appeared worn and haggard, his eyes bearing the weight of a consuming madness. Restlessness gnawed at his soul as his insatiable quest for the Silmarils tightened its grip on his heart. 

It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst, and you could no longer delude yourself into thinking he was still the same man you fell in love with. 

“Maedhros,” you said quietly in hopes of not sparking another argument. “Are you certain this is the wise decision?” 

He turned to you, his eyes stern and calculating. It was a stark difference from the love and warmth they used to be lit by. Instead of looking into the sun, you were staring into a fiery furnace.

“It is my duty, as well as my brothers, to honor the Oath we swore to our father. I have no doubt this is the right course of action.” He sounded so detached when he spoke to you. It was the same way he talked to commanding officers and diplomats, not how he should speak to his wife. Not the way he used to talk to you. 

The fear you’d felt, the drop of your heart each time you looked into his eyes, intensified. He was teetering on the precipice of madness. You bit your lip, mulling over the right words to keep him from falling off the ledge. 

“I understand your quest,” your voice trembled with slight trepidation despite your best efforts to keep it even. “But Maedhros, the toll it’s taking on you…I fear for your well being.” 

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration, impatience, and slight madness evident in his gaze. It made you nearly flinch, but you held your ground. 

“You doubt me?” His voice had an edge so sharp it cut you like a knife. It intensified your anxiety, but you swallowed it, steeling yourself against your nerves. 

“I don’t doubt your intentions, Maedhros,” she replied, her voice steady now, “but I fear for what this obsession is doing to you.” 

Your words seemed to strike a chord within him, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of doubt. A moment of clarity within his addled mind. “You think I don’t know the burden I bear?” he murmured, his voice softening now, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface. 

“I know, my love,” you replied, much softer this time. You crossed the room’s threshold, gingerly sweeping your knuckles across his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, momentarily allowing your soothing touch to wash over him. “But I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. Your people need you. I need you. Not just as a leader but as a husband too.”

His eyes opened, and the green within them softened as his anger began to wane. Yet the turmoil was still evident within him. He was a man fighting two wars, one war with the forces of Morgoth and the second war within himself. 

“It’s not easy for me either, and I curse the day I swore that oath.” His confession made the flicker of hope within you get bigger. Perhaps you’d successfully pulled him from the ledge. “But I cannot turn away from my destiny.” 

Just as soon as it appeared, the hope was snuffed out; stubborn and proud, you now cursed what you used to admire about him most. 

“But at what cost, Maedhros? The Oath has led to nothing but tragedy and death. You are losing yourself in this darkness, forsaking all that once mattered. Look around you! Our people suffer, our family crumbles, and still, you are blinded by this madness!” Desperate and pleading, you tried to force him to see reason. 

As if your touch was made of acid, Maedhros pulled away and sidestepped you, a sea separating you from him. The anger returned to his eyes as they hardened once more. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was difficult to remember if it had ever even been there, to begin with. 

“And for what? For some gems that shine prettily,” you continued; he needed to hear your words, to taste the venom behind them. If he held even an ounce of love for you, he would heed your warning. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the blaze of anger that threatened to burn the whole world. 

“You know nothing of the weight I carry,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. “You are my wife, not an advisor; quit constantly questioning me and stand by my side as you were intended to.”

The words caught in your throat faded, replaced with a bitter taste of the last bit of love and hope you held for Maedhros dying. Your eyes fell to the floor; there was nothing left to do. The butterflies he incited within you had turned to ash. Everything the two of you built crumbled, and Maedhros gladly helped, knocking down the pillars it once stood upon. 

The Maedhros you loved was long gone; what stood before you now was a shell of the man he once was.

“If that’s the way you feel.” It was all you uttered before exiting the room, leaving Maedhros in the dimly lit room with nothing but anger and regret. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay and reassure you he hadn’t meant it. But the grip of madness was unyielding, and even in the depths of sorrow, it would not relent.

The Silmarils that had once been a beacon of hope now seemed to mock him, and the emptiness in his heart felt like a chasm he could never fill.

In the stillness of the night, as Maedhros lay slumbering, you stole away into vast open fields. Cloaked in the darkness that came with night, you ran, nowhere in particular, just so long as it was as far away from Maedhros. Your heart was heavy with the weight of your decision and the finality of the ending of a love you thought would last forever. Yet the echoes of the argument lingered; his harsh words and austere face were a haunting reminder of what had been lost. 

“It’s better this way,” you told yourself. 

You would carry the memory of Maedhros until your dying day, praying that he might find solace and release from his Oath. But you couldn’t count on it, and you wouldn’t waste your days hoping he’d change. 

“It’s better this way,” you repeated once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The warm glow of the sun was waning, warning you of the impending cloak of night. 

You stood on the cliffside, staring into the waters below, feet buried in the overgrowth and dirt. The air was cool, and the world was quiet. So serene and perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. You burrowed your feet deeper into the dirt, desperate to ground yourself into reality. 

The mellowness of your surroundings eased the grief within your heart. War was over, and the suffering you’d endured was but a distant dream. Residing in the lands of Aman, you could forget your life had been anything other than something full of beautiful poetic prose. 

Yet it was hard to let go of all of your pain. But as time passed, it became twisted, no longer the stabbing pain of a needle. It poured from you into a melancholia that you would use to paint all your skies a dark blue. It lingered in the edges of your landscape, blurred in the edges and nearly unseen by anyone except for you. 

A soft hum escaped your mouth as you allowed the sound of cascading waves to fall over you. Eyes fluttered shut, the faint mist of water touching your body. 

You only opened your eyes once the sound of footsteps was heard. Your posture stiffened, ears sharpening to hone in on the sounds of the intruder. No one dared to intrude upon you, and if they did, it was preemptively planned, never just a sudden visit. 

Slowly, you turned, but you were still surprised even though you didn’t know what to expect. 

Standing before you, as tall and proud as the day you’d first met, was Maedhros. He was vibrant and real, only a hint of tentative uncertainty marring his neutral expression. He stopped a few paces away, silent as you took him in. Framed by the soft glow of the golden rays of sunlight, he was just as you remembered him, yet with an unmistakable touch of time. 

It wasn’t in the traditional ways of humans; there were no wrinkles and lines imprinted on his face. It was all in the eyes, the centuries of wisdom, pain, and suffering making them heavier than they once were. 

He’d died. You knew that. He cast himself into the fire alongside his brother when he could no longer possess the Silmarils. It was said they burned him upon contact and it was a fate too terrible for him to live. You’d wept for days on end upon learning his fate. 

And yet here he was, as real as the day you’d met. 

“Maedhros.” His name hung in the air as if you were unsure it was truly him. He simply nodded, an affirmation that he was really here, standing before you.  

Silence stretched between the two of you, your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke the words your lips couldn’t find. There was a tempest of emotions within you - joy, relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of hurt you couldn’t fully let go of. 

And then, like the first rays of sunrise, a smile graced Maedhros’ lips, and it was as if the years spent separated vanished. The arguments disappeared with them, leaving only an overwhelming happiness to see him standing before you. Your strides were sure as you stepped towards Maedhros, and he helped to close the gap, your arms weaving around his body as you embraced him for the first time in years.

He smelled just how you’d remembered, and you buried your face into his chest, determined to remember how his arm felt around your waist. 

“Is it really you?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and delight.

You felt the rumble of Maedhros’ slight laughter as he nodded his head. “ Yes, it’s me, my love.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough that you could see his face but close enough that you could feel the warmth he radiated. “I- I can’t believe it; how is this even possible?” You were nearly out of breath as you spoke, eyes searching for answers within his. 

“A twist of fate, I suppose. I was released from the Halls of Mandos, my time of repentance done.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on you tightening. “I should have listened to you the night that you left. You were right, and I was just to--”

You cut him off by placing a searing kiss on his lips. His words were forgotten, the long speech he’d probably been preparing since the moment you left cut off. There would be an eternity for forgiveness and apologetic words. Right now, you just wanted to remember how his lips had felt on yours.

He melted into the kiss, his lips just as sweet as you’d remembered them to be. The years melted into oblivion; it was just you and Maedhros, with nothing severing the love you held. The kiss was a mixture of vehement remorse and a promise to never forsake the promise of love he’d made to you. Time slowed as the two of you savored the moment, fully immersed in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Maedhros stayed tangled in one another. You’d both been given a second chance, something you hadn’t dared to think would be possible. And yet here he was, so intertwined with you it was hard to see where you ended and he began. It was a chance to reignite a love that had never fully died out.

[animatorweirdo]

From beyond death

In life, you had saved him from the dragon, and now in death, you had done the same.

Warnings: heavy subjects, angst, mentions of a death of a friend, not getting along with a sibling, dying, sad, bleeding, dreaming, torture, getting shot with arrows, and surviving a river.

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

It started out as a little visit. There was a knock at the doorway to the forge, and you were there, popping your head around the corner. 

“Celebrimbor. I’m sorry to disturb you, but can I hide here for a while? Lady Finduilas is trying to encourage me to attend another feast, but I am not really feeling it today,” you asked. 

“Of course. Help yourself out,” Celebrimbor chuckled as you scuttered in after getting a confirmation, making yourself a spot at a nearby table covered with metals and stones. Celebrimbor glanced in amusement while trying to focus on his current project.  

You always had a less liking for social gatherings, maybe because you were more used to wandering outside, keeping your eyes out for dangers that could threaten the safety of Nargothrond. A lone wolf, his kin called you. Galadwen is what you called yourself, but Celebrimbor already knew your real name. 

“You know, you could always tell Gwindor and Princess Finduilas that you do not wish to attend the feast,” Celebrimbor stated as he continued his current project. “I usually avoid attending social events, but I didn’t want to appear rude this time,” you said as you made yourself busy, handling a small bunch of metal wires in your hands. 

Celebrimbor shook his head with a smile. “My friend, you won’t ever get rid of the fear of people if you don’t try to face them more often,” he said. 

“I prefer a solitary life. And besides, I’ve never been one for social life. I remember once attending a feast and getting angry with this one elven lord who insulted my people,” you explained.

“Oh yeah… what happened then?” Celebrimbor questioned since you usually didn’t tell a lot of your past.

“I purposely dumbed cake on him to get his tunic dirty. I don’t think he ever forgave me for that, and honestly, I still don’t feel bad about it. He was unpleasant even on regular days,” you said, making him grin at the thought while you were deep in your own project. 

You had a hard time opening up, so whenever Celebrimbor saw a chance to ask questions, he took it to learn more about you. 

He wanted to understand why you would name yourself a sorrowful maiden. He knew something terrible had happened, and you were a lonely soul, so he took the initiative to be your friend. Something his prideful father would had most likely shamed him for, and he did not regret it as you two had grown a close friendship. There was something that pulled him toward you, and one day– you trusted him enough to give him your real name and your past as one of the children of Hurin. 

When he learned about the tragic death of your close friend and the fallout between you and your brother, many things about you started to make sense, and it nearly broke his heart. He did not think you deserved to be alone for the things that happened. You even set yourself outside, thinking it would protect his people if you did not linger inside and infect the kingdom with the curse of your house. It resulted in your self-destructive habits as you were haunted by what happened, and Celebrimbor was glad he was able to talk you out of them and live more healthily. 

It was clear he had a lot of effect on you as you even started coming inside and visiting his forge much more to talk to him. His kin saw you and him as a peculiar pair, but since it helped you to stop most of your destructive habits and smile more, Celebrimbor paid no mind. He deeply cared for you, so it was worth it. 

You two talked in the forge. You shared certain things that happened in the feast, and Celebrimbor replied sometimes with an amused chuckle or another question to keep the conversation flowing. You then did something peculiar he would never forget. 

“Hey, Celebrimbor. Could you come here for a moment?” you asked. 

Curious, Celebrimbor left his current project and walked over to you. You then lifted one of his hands and slid a ring made from metal wires into his finger. Celebrimbor was surprised by the sudden gesture, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the new ring in his hand. You had somehow folded the metal wires into a single ring, and in the center, you had twisted ends together and folded them into a shape that resembled a spiky flower with roots wrapped around the ring. 

Celebrimbor felt charmed and impressed as you had made the ring with your bare hands. 

“It’s lovely. What is it?” Celebrimbor looked at you. 

“A spike ring,” you answered. 

“Not the fanciest name, but in my birth home, we used to make them to give our friends, families, and those dear to us whenever they leave as lucky charms, wishing them safe return and protection from evil,” you explained, “It’s even said if someone who wishes you harm touches the ring, the spikes will make them bleed, but I don’t know if that’s true. The spikes are not sharp enough to cause bleeding unless you push hard enough,” 

“I…” you hesitated. “It’s just suddenly came to mind. I’m sorry if that was too weird for you,” you shook your hands with an awkward look. 

Celebrimbor couldn’t help but smile. “Not at all. I appreciate the little gift. Thank you, (Name),” he said, and you smiled in return, happy to see him accept your little gift. 

It was supposed to be only a friendly gesture, but the more time he spent with you, the more you opened up to him. To his worry, he found himself in a similar predicament as Luthien. He had fallen in love with you. 

His father would have scorned him if he knew his son had fallen for a mortal, not that his opinion would have mattered. However, Celebrimbor should have controlled himself and avoided such an outcome since there is no way for an eldar and an edain to be together without tragedy. He doubted he could do the same as Luthien and give up his immortality to be with you. 

But, he couldn't bring himself to break your heart either. The very idea made him feel resentful toward himself. You would understand his view if he told you, but at the very same time, he wants to bring you that kind of happiness. 

King Felagund himself once thought an eldar and an edain could not be together, but then he changed as he willingly helped a mortal man who sought to marry the daughter of Thingol. If someone like him could change his mind, then maybe it's not so terrible. 

Celebrimbor never guessed he would feel so much more for you. He would have been happy just to be your friend and see you live a happy long life as you should. But now he had these feelings bothering him.

He observed you as you two went on with your usual outings and activities. He would visit you outside and listen as you talked and watched the stars on your favorite hill and he would sometimes watch as you visited his forge and started crafting something else with your hands at the table where he started gathering materials for you: to see if you would come up with something new. 

You looked so happy, but he did not see any signs that you might share the same feelings for him as he did for you. It was more favorable since it made it easy to control his feelings and accept that you only saw him as your friend. 

He was alright with that and made a promise to himself that he would stay and see you live a good life as your friend. 

But, oh, how he had underestimated the power of your family’s curse as one day. It had come in the form of your older brother, Turin. 

He first believed it would be a happy reunion since you had mentioned that your brother went missing after an incident, but you were cautious for some reason. You did try to reconnect with Turin, but something felt amiss, and he felt more like a stranger to you than the brother you grew up within the safety of Doriath. 

You became cautious when Turin started gaining influence in Nargothrond. At first, you were all right with whatever he was doing, but then you started expressing concern when he began sharing his ideas with the elves of Nargothrond.  

Celebrimbor was there to support you, especially when you and Turin only seemed to grow more distant and unable to see eye to eye. Turin convinced Orodreth to build a bridge to Nargothrond’s main entrance, which in your mind was a terrible idea, and when Gwindor began to get scorned by the council for his past as Morgoth’s thrall, your distance from him only grew. 

You came to a realization that Turin was planning to reattempt to have revenge against Morgoth for your family’s suffering, which only created a deeper drift between you as you didn’t think going to war was the best option for your home. 

While Turin believed in a direct approach toward the enemy, you believed hiding in secrecy was Nargothrond's best defense. You two only got into an argument when you reminded him what happened last time when he tried to build an army to oppose Morgoth. You were there to support him back then, and it had cost the life of your best friend. 

Celebrimbor tried to be the mediator since the arguments between you and your brother were sometimes intense, but when Turin insulted him for his family’s actions as kinslayers, you lost your patience and punched your brother in the face. Celebrimbor was quick to take you away before things escalated, and you would try to fight your brother. You had incredible patience, but when it came to defending him or Gwindor, you would often go head-first and fight the offender. 

But this time. You were truly upset with your brother, so he had to calm you down. You vented your frustration about the matter, and Celebrimbor peacefully calmed you till you spoke more softly and expressed your concerns about how Turin was not listening to reason. 

Celebrimbor wanted things between you to be peaceful since you both were respected by his people, but when he saw Turin’s growing arrogance as his influence over the kingdom grew and how Turin was slightly too certain things would go his way. It reminded him too much about his father and uncle before things went wrong with them, so Celebrimbor couldn’t help but side with you. 

When Turin began encouraging the elves to go to war with Morgoth, you opposed it, but your voice went unheard as Turin’s speech to defeat Morgoth convinced King Orodreth and the council, and they began making preparations since Glaurung was sighted approaching from the north. You did not believe Turin and the elves could defeat the great dragon in direct combat. There were too many possible outcomes, and Turin did not have a plan if things went wrong. 

Celebrimbor felt awful to see you in distress, but when you told him it was up to you two to come up with a plan to keep the people of Nargothrond safe if your brother failed in his assault, he was ready to help.

You were familiar with Nargothrond's many caverns, and you knew some of them led outside. In the worst-case scenario, you could use the path to take Nargothrond’s people outside the city and to safety. 

Celebrimbor supported the idea and since he had some people who decided to stay with him rather than leave with his father and uncle when they were banished. You two managed to make quick work clearing out the secret path till the day you dreaded finally arrived. 

To your sorrow, Gwindor had decided to join the battle with Turin and King Orodreth. You begged him to stay as you knew he would die if he went with your brother’s plan. Unfortunately, Gwindor loved your brother as much as he loved you, even if your brother caused him trouble and the end of his relationship with Finduilas. Gwindor only looked at you sorrowfully and asked you to keep Finduilas safe if things went as you predicted. 

At that moment when you watched him ride away with your brother and the rest of the army as they left to confront the dragon, you hated your brother more than anyone. Celebrimbor only knew to hold you close as the tears fell from your eyes. He wanted to give you time to collect yourself, but since time was against you, he had to encourage you to get ready. You wiped your tears, controlling yourself, and you two started gathering the people for the worst. 

When you and Celebrimbor prepared for the possible assault on Nargothrond, for a moment, you had false hope that Turin’s plan might have worked and you were being overly cautious, but when you felt the earth beneath you crumble with something that sounded like a heavy earthquake and heard the horns of the orcs instead of the elven, you knew that your prediction of the battle had come true. 

However, Glaurung and his army of orcs had come quicker than you expected, and the doors were not strong enough to withstand the dragon’s power, so you and Celebrimbor were left defending Nargothrond’s people as they escaped through the secret path. You two tried to help as many as you could, but unfortunately, most of Nargothrond’s people were either killed or taken by the orcs. 

Glaurung then turned his gaze upon you, making you freeze in fear as you looked into those golden eyes once more. He looked surprised to see you but then laughed in mockery as he began taunting you, telling how your brother fled from the battle and made this chaos possible. You were utterly frozen as his voice echoed in your ears, your hands began to shake around your blades, and your body refused your commands to move. 

When Celebrimbor saw your state, he tried to run to you and take you away from the dragon, but then Glaurung struck him with his claws, making him fly into a wall and bleed from his now-open wound, the claws of the dragon having gone through his armor. The dragon laughed at his futile attempt and then opened his maws, ready to devour Feanor’s grandson. 

Celebrimbor prepared to face death, but then you sprung into action, having freed yourself from the dragon’s gaze. You plunged your blade into the dragon’s eye, making him pull back with a pained scream. You held on to the handle of your blade, pulling yourself over the dragon’s head and stabbing its eyes with fury. 

The dragon trashed and shook its head, trying to throw you off. Celebrimbor felt a speck of admiration for your courage and fear when he saw the dragon sprinting outside, taking you to the bridge. He followed and watched as Glaurung began breathing fire toward everything, destroying his forces, who scattered to avoid his blinded rage. You held on to your dear life as you couldn’t let go, or you would end up being tossed off the bridge. 

Glaurung’s trashing and firing began damaging the bridge’s structure. The well-built bridge began to collapse under the weight. Celebrimbor then watched in horror as you fell along into the river beneath with the dragon. 

“(Name)!” Celebrimbor screamed. 

You looked back at him one last time before the mist took you from his sight, and all he could hear was a loud crash and the one final scream of the dragon before it became silent. 

The assault was halted as the orcs could no longer cross the river to the city. There were some orcs inside, but enough for his people to handle. Nargothrond's people were safe to leave through the secret path. 

Celebrimbor heard someone approaching him and saw it was your brother. Turin asked what had happened since he did not expect the bridge to be destroyed, and Glaurung’s attack halted, but Celebrimbor did not care to answer. He left the bridge and began ascending into the river, where you had fallen. 

At the bottom of the bridge, Glaurung’s body had blocked the flow of the river, and the stones from the bridge were scattered around the riverbank. Celebrimbor found you lying beside the dead beast, blood flowing down from your body with the river, unmoving.

“(Name)!” he cradled you in his arms, finding several wounds, most likely punctured by the several rocks during your fall, and you hissed when he touched certain spots, no doubt having suffered broken bones. 

You looked at him, pale and shivering from the cold. You mustered the strength to glance at the ring you made for him on his finger before looking at him. 

“You’re not hurt, are you? Please tell me you’re not hurt?” you asked with a shivering tone. 

Celebrimbor would have shaken his head if you weren’t so injured. Even in your most vulnerable state, you cared more about him than yourself. But he could not deny answering when he saw your nearly desperate pleading eyes. 

“I’m alright. I’m not hurt anywhere else,” Celebrimbor said as he had managed to stop the bleeding from his wound moments ago. He inspected your wounds. He was struck with festering sorrow. You would not live long enough to receive help. 

You smiled even when blood was trailing down from your lips. “I’m glad…” you uttered, nearly closing your eyes. “Please stay with me…” Celebrimbor held you close, starting to shed tears. He knew you would not survive but couldn’t help but hold on to that tingle of hope. 

“I’m sorry… I want to… but I’m afraid I’m too broken to be healed even by elven magic,” you weakly said. “I’m happy, though…” you said, holding his hand where the ring you made for him still lay. “I didn’t screw up this time… and the beast of my nightmares is finally dead,” you said, glancing toward the dead dragon. 

“Please go… it’s not safe here,” you said, lying your head against his chest. Celebrimbor held you, unable to answer. “And leave you alone… dream on,” he uttered, making you chuckle. “Thank you…” your voice fell quiet as you enjoyed the warmth. 

“(I love you, my bravest),” Celebrimbor uttered the words he had kept to himself for so long. 

“(I love you too, my brightest star)” you uttered back before Celebrimbor heard your last breath, and your hand fell cold in his hand. 

The pain in his chest was intense. He lets his once proud self weep as he holds on to your now cold body. He did not know why he sometimes forgot you could speak his language fluently, but now learning that you had loved him in return all this time only made the pain worse. 

He did not even hear the voice of Turin or some of his people who had come to fetch him and witness your death. He nearly did not want to. 

His people had convinced him to come with them, but he could not bring himself to leave you alone in the river, so he carried you to your favorite hill where you liked to gaze at the world around you. There, Celebrimbor laid you to rest. 

His heart was left barren after your death. The regret of not telling his feelings for you sooner haunted him. 

He needed his people to guide him as he was still numb by your loss. Turin was grieved by your death even if he didn’t show it. He left to find Finduilas, who was taken by the orcs with other prisoners who didn’t manage to escape, and that was the last of him. 

Celebrimbor knew he shouldn't blame your brother, but since you knew the outcome and your brother convinced his people to build the bridge and face the enemy directly, he couldn’t help but feel resentment toward him. If he had listened, then maybe Nargothrond wouldn’t have fallen, and you would still be alive. 

Your death caused him immense sorrow. Each day he wondered what he could have done to change the outcome, and it felt like he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark depths that tempted him to let go and perhaps in certain hopes to join you in death, but your ring gave him strength to continue and live for the remaining people who had come to see him as their leader. And certain times, he would dream of you, and you would assure him, which gave him strength. 

The first age passed swiftly, and soon he had become the lord of Eregion and the last surviving member of his house. He never imagined himself as a leader after his father and the rest of his relatives, but he had achieved that. He still missed how you would suddenly pop into the forges to hide from attending feasts and simply talk to him. The forges never felt more empty to him before. He even made a spot for you where you would start doing one of your handcrafts even if it always remained empty. 

He protected the spike ring so it wouldn’t snap or get destroyed. And when he would notice a wire lose, he would try everything in his power to repair it even going as far as trying to imbue magic to make it durable, but he was always afraid of breaking it. It was his last memory of you.  

When Annatar arrived in his city, his friendship and guidance in forging the rings of power had helped Celebrimbor out of the sadness a little. He still thought of you but sometimes felt tired, especially when others began warning him about his new friend, which he did not understand. 

However, as time passed, the anniversary of your death arrived. It was one of those times when he would light one of your favorite scented candles and look into the starry sky. It was a moment where he wished to be alone and think in peace. However, Annatar had come to him and disturbed his peace. It was perhaps one of the only times he was not pleased with his friend’s inquiry and presence, but he remained polite. 

The two talked, Annatar curiously asking about his tradition of lighting up the candle and looking at the stars. Celebrimbor spoke about you and how you two used to do it together when you were still alive. He talked about you fondly while thinking of the memories you shared while keeping most private, not wanting to overshare. 

He shared how you died protecting him from Glaurung, and for a moment, he felt a change in his friend’s tone. It was subtle but not unnoticeable. 

Annatar spoke sympathetically and proceeded to touch his hand, only to pull back with a hiss. Celebrimbor was startled when he saw his friend bleeding from his finger, but when he mentioned that he poked it on the ring on his finger. Celebrimbor became cautious, remembering what you had once said about the ring — about how the ring would make those who wish him harm bleed upon touch. The ring was not sharp enough to cause wounds, yet it had made Annatar bleed. 

He remained worried till Annatar assured him it was just a wound. He wondered why he would keep such a sharp ring, and Celebrimbor told him off while finally starting to believe that his friend might not be who he claimed to be. 

Celebrimbor took heed of the warnings he had once received from Galadriel and Gil-galad and began observing Annatar, who still seemed like usual. Celebrimbor tried to figure out what was wrong, but his friend either had a convincing act or maybe he was overthinking it. The only suspicious thing he could find was that his friend would often leave for trips and not tell where he would go these times. 

He nearly believed he was simply overthinking it, but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it either. Your ring making Annatar bleed felt like a warning. 

He finally got his answer when Annatar revealed himself as Sauron and destroyed his city. He was taken captive, and Sauron tortured him, trying to make him reveal the location of the three elven rings he had made in secret. Out of anger and pride, he refused, and each time his torture only got worse. 

His only comfort was your ring. They couldn’t remove your ring from his hand. Each time they would try, the ring would make their hands bleed, and they would pull back in pain. It gave Celebrimbor certain joy since it felt like you were still protecting him, but he could not help but dread they might take his hand next. 

When his exhaustion took a toll on him, he dreamed of you. You suddenly appeared to him in his cell. He did not first figure out that it was a dream, so he was scared and worried Sauron would capture you. You stubbornly refused and helped him out of his binds, taking him out of the dungeons. You lead him through the rocky maze and to a flowing river. You told him it was his way out, and the dream ended, making him realize what he had seen. 

He did not first comprehend the meaning of his dream till he saw a chance to escape. He escaped his binds and took down the guards before making it through a familiar maze and to the river he saw in his dream.  

He did not know what to do next as the dream had ended. He tried to figure out how the river was going to be his escape till he turned around and felt an arrow through his shoulder. Sauron stood with his orcs. Sauron expressed how disappointed he was before signaling his orcs to shoot him down. 

Celebrimbor felt the second arrow pierce him, and the third one was the final that sent him falling into the river. In his last moments, Celebrimbor watched as your ring glowed and then broke, making him watch in horror as he was then finally taken by the river. 

Yet death was not what he found in the river. 

Struggling to pull himself out of the water, Celebrimbor groaned as he crawled out of the river, having been carried miles away from Sauron and his forces. Exhausted, he then flopped down on his back on the rocky beach. 

He stared at the sky, wondering how he had survived. The arrows had left his bleeding wounds in the river, but they were not fatal enough. He could even survive them once he found help. 

He then turned his head toward his hand, where your broken ring lay. The twists had been untangled, making it look like a tangled thick wire. He held onto it tight, afraid to lose it. He broke down in tears, unable to hold down his sorrow. 

“Oh, my love… even in death, you had protected me,” he uttered as he held the broken ring close to his heart. 

[cilil]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Caranthir & Fëanor, hints at potential Caranthir x Turgon 𓄌 Synopsis: Fëanor offers to craft accessories for his sons to wear at the next Feast of Horns. Caranthir has what he believes to be an unusual request. 𓄌 Warnings: / 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.2k words) | AO3

Carnistir had both dreaded and looked forward to this moment, though the former outweighed the latter. 

His father had announced that he would be crafting accessories for all of his sons for the next Feast of Horns, celebrating that the entire family would be in attendance for the first time, and promised that each of them could pick whatever they wanted and he would make it. 

For most, if not all of his brothers, it was an easy choice and they knew exactly what they wanted, or so Carnistir believed at least, but for him, it was more difficult. Not the choice itself, if he was honest with himself — he had an idea what he wanted — but he grappled with it regardless and disliked the idea of having to explain himself to his father. 

It wasn't Carnistir's first time participating in the Hunt. His brothers had dragged him along once before, with Tyelkormo in particular claiming that he couldn't miss it, and as was tradition for debutants, he had been among the Hunted. The greater battle had been with himself rather than the Hunters, finding himself strangely enchanted by the idea of being desired and pursued, while unable to admit it to anyone else and acting aloof to hide his inner turmoil. 

In the end Carnistir had successfully hidden in the woods of Oromë — no small feat as he liked to think, especially with Ainur participating in the Hunt as well — and rejoined his brothers at the end of the night. Nobody had bothered to inquire about his whereabouts after his declaration that everything had gone well, and he preferred it that way. Even so, the aftermath had left him with a sour taste in his mouth, his mind ever wandering to all the possibilities he had denied himself out of pride, shame and, as much as he hated to admit it, cowardice. 

But this Feast of Horns would be different. Carnistir had promised himself that it would. 

And then he had also learned that Turukáno would be a Hunter. 

I could hunt as well. Maybe alongside him, if he agrees to it.

Though perhaps I should be hunted instead to rectify my mistake. Any other choice would only be further cowardice.

Turukáno could hunt me. I think I would like it if he did. 

But why would he? Especially if Findaráto joins in as well. And he most likely will.

Such was the back and forth between the two warring forces in Carnistir's mind, unfulfilled desire raging against what he believed was his better judgement, yet his perceived lack of courage and bravery was what eventually tipped the scales in favour of the former. He was a son of Fëanáro after all, he couldn't hide in a corner while his brothers participated in the Hunt. 

Even so, choosing the Hunted meant that he would have to ask his father for a necklace or even a collar instead of horns or antlers, and Carnistir dreaded having such a conversation. 

Thus he made his way to Fëanáro's forge reluctantly when Nerdanel told him that it was his turn. He announced himself with a short, sharp knock and entered in tandem with his father's invitation to come in. 

Fëanáro was sitting at his workbench and bent over an elaborate sketch he was working on. A quick look confirmed that it was most likely Tyelkormo's gift, and Carnistir tried not to let his mien sour too much. Of course he's still busy with someone else. 

"Ah, Moryo," his father greeted him and looked up with a smile. "Do you already know what you would like or do you want to take a few more minutes to think?"

"I am ready," Carnistir replied curtly. It hadn't escaped his notice that Fëanáro appeared to be in good spirits, and he was about to ruin it all; but it was too late for second guessing himself. A plan of action had been made, and he would stick to it, come what may. 

"Very well. What are your ideas?" Fëanáro asked and finally reached for an empty sheet of paper to place on top of the sketch, ready to take notes. 

"I want a collar and I don't want gold."

Silence fell between them for a brief moment. 

"So you wish to join the Hunted?" 

"Yes." Carnistir pressed his lips together, ready to defend his choice, but his father took notes without further inquiry.

"Do you know which materials you want instead if gold is not to your liking?" he then asked conversationally. 

Carnistir gave a light shrug. He had thought of everything, every complaint or counterargument that might be brought against him for making what could be considered a strange choice for a Noldorin prince, but not the gift itself. 

"Something practical," he said eventually. 

Fëanáro smiled. "I hope you will allow me to craft a silver one then. I think it would look lovely on you." 

"Fine by me." 

More notes were added. 

"And what kind of details and ornaments do you want? Maybe some jewels or gemstones?"

Another shrug. "Plain." 

"You know you can choose freely, Moryo?" 

"Yes." Picking up on the hint, Carnistir thought about it again. "Lots of people have little charms attached to their collars, like antlers or spear-tips or arrowheads. I think I would like that too."

"Anything in particular?"

"A dagger." Inspiration came spontaneously, but for once Carnistir allowed himself not to overthink it. 

"And what about the gems?" 

"No gems. They sparkle too much." 

Fëanáro grinned at him. "Ah, I see. You don't want to make it too easy for the Hunters to spot you."

"Of course not."

"And you are right. A favour from one of the princes of the Noldor should not be won too easily after all." He wrote down more notes. "Anything else?" 

"No." Carnistir paused for a moment, then added, "I leave the rest to you, Father." 

"I shan't disappoint. If you like, you can have a look at my sketch in a few days — I will take some time to think about it." 

He nodded. "Thank you." 

They fell silent again, but no further words were needed. An unspoken understanding that the conversation had concluded hung between them, and Carnistir turned to leave. 

On his way out, he spotted another sketch at the very edge of the workbench, slightly crumpled as if it had been hastily swept aside in favour of Fëanáro's tools and the other notes and sketches he had made. To his surprise, this one depicted a collar as well, not too dissimilar from what he had asked for and imagined for himself. 

Unable to resist, he stopped and pointed at the sketch. "Someone else is joining the Hunted as well?" 

Fëanáro looked up to meet his inquisitive gaze, and his eyes sparkled with the same sort of mischief Carnistir would normally see in Tyelkormo and the Ambarussar. 

"That one is for me," he said, lips twitching as if he had to suppress a bout of laughter when he saw his son's shocked expression. 

Carnistir left the forge without another word, his cheeks flushing bright red. He needed a moment to process what he had just learned, only to decide that he neither needed nor wanted to know the implications of Fëanáro's words regarding his parents' relationship.

Well, he thought to himself, if I was wrong about Father, maybe I was wrong about Turukáno as well and he may hunt me after all. 

taglist: @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @saintstars @urwendii

[fistfuloflightning]

I’d trade my soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss

Day 7: College AU with Maeglin/Maedhros for @nolofinweanweek

[edensrose]

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. manwë makes sure that your first time is something that you will remember fondly ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 ៸៸ fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus mention ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ៸៸ fem.bod )

· ⊰ note. so this was actually a request but for the life of me I cannot find the ask ;; anyways! enjoy <3

♡. — 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

ʚ Manwë is a hopeless romantic, so he would want to make your first time with him special. This need would only increase when he discovers that you are a virgin. He would wait until you were absolutely ready and approached him on the matter before beginning his planning.

ʚ He’s a bit of a cliche lover so having the room lit with candles and decorated with flowers wouldn’t be too much of a surprise — if you’re into that. He wants to make your first time something that you remember fondly.

ʚ Would pamper you beforehand, and treat you to something like watching the stars before the night actually begins.

ʚ When you confirm that you are indeed ready, he’d take you to his chambers and lay you on your back before he starts off slow. Kissing you, easing and relaxing your body as his large hands delicately trace your skin, rubbing at your side when he feels your nervousness.

ʚ Manwë would be slow in removing your clothes — if you would rather some of them to remain on your body then he will not mind, anything to make you feel more comfortable. But he will praise each and every inch of your skin, be it with kisses or love bites as he stirs the heat within you further,

ʚ Practically worships your body. Showers you with endearments and compliments, eases you with gentle hushes when he feels you growing tense as he takes his sweet time in pleasuring you. He is well aware that his stature is much larger than you, he knows that he will have to ensure that you are fully prepared.

ʚ “There we go. You are doing so well for me, little dove,’’ he whispers, eyes travelling to his fingers that slowly stretch you out. He elegantly moves his hand, feeling around your soft walls and searching for your sweet spot whilst you give him such pretty moans. He smiles at the small buck of your hips and curls his fingers, rubbing at that delicate patch of skin. “There it is. . . Does it feel good, darling? Hmm?” 

ʚ He knows that letting you release now would most likely tire you out, so he continues his foreplay without pushing you over the edge. The last thing he wished was to overwhelm your inexperienced body. He’d alternate between fingering and spoiling you with his tongue — just so that you were aware of just how much pleasure he could grant you. 

ʚ It is only when you are breathlessly begging and whining for him does he finally decide to get onto the main event. Sitting up on his knees and disrobing himself to reveal his own arousal. Before you can get too nervous — he’d cup your face, whispering for you to keep your eyes on his instead as he lines up. 

ʚ Manwë would rather you in his lap so that you could manage how much of him you took in and feel more in control. Should you wish to remain on your back, however, he wouldn’t mind that either. His hand remains cupping your face as he lines himself up.

ʚ Wouldn’t push in immediately and instead rub his length along your heat, gathering up enough of your slick whilst also making you even more needy for him.

ʚ When he begins to push in, his hand would find yours and he would capture your lips in a passionate, loving kiss in an attempt to distract you from the pain festering down below.

ʚ “Sshh, sshh, I know darling. I know,’’ Manwë whispers, parting from the kiss after he feels you clenching around him. “Eyes on me,’’ his hand retreats from the base of his length and his thumb presses to your clit — rubbing slow, pleasurable circles to help relax your body. “That’s my girl. . . let me worship you,’’

ʚ Once he is certain that you are able to take more, he’ll keep pushing — until you give him a sign to stop again. He wouldn’t try to push all of his length inside, not this time. His soft hands caress every inch of you. Touching, praising, until you were ready for him.

ʚ He’d capture your lips again, unable to keep himself from completely melting into you as he begins his thrusting. A slow pace at first that slowly leads into something moderate when you beg him for more.

ʚ His wings wrap around you, flushing you closer to his body as he follows your lead. Whatever you said was done, and all whilst he showered you in oceans of praise and affection

ʚ “That’s it, darling. Oh, you’re so beautiful.’’ “Does it feel good? Does my darling dove feel good?” “So good for me, that’s my princess,’’ 

ʚ He would slow down a bit for your climax, making sure that you reach the epitome of bliss while also ensuring not to overwhelm you. His thumb remains on your clit, riding out your high. Should you beg him for more, he’ll resort to fingering you one last time before leaving it at that. There would be more opportunities for something like this, other occasions where he can absolutely ruin you and have you calling his name to the heavens as he fucks you into the sheets. But tonight was about tenderness and care. 

ʚ Once he is certain you are calm with kisses against your heated skin and soft praises of how well you did for him — Manwë will scoop you up into his arms, wings still around you as he carries you to his personal pools to begin the aftercare

ʚ Sits in the waters and places you between his legs with your back to his chest as he washes and pampers you. Caresses your muscles and massages them until you are leaning back against him and on the verge of falling asleep — which he gladly encourages 

ʚ “You did so good for me, princess,’’ he murmurs to your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Rest for me, I shall take care of everything. My little angel.’’ 

·⊰ masterlist.

·⊰ tip jar.

·⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @m-shade @flowerchildishere @bugnug @algae-rave @heraluthor @the-girl-king @qwerty-19923 @momoewn @tinkywinky27 @yonjisu @doodle-pops @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @miriel-estelwen @wandererindreams @ashfromvolcanoes @cilil @natchayaphorn @someoneinthestars @asianbutnotjapanese

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[lamemaster]

Reciprocity of Forgiveness

Pairing: Maeglin x reader

Summary: Maeglin watches his uncle's features twist in rage as their eyes meet and all that greets Maeglin is unfiltered hatred. "Us Finweans don't betray our own blood. Whatever your son is he is not our blood.

"Why must he be here?" Turgon muttered and just from his scrunched eyebrows it was clear that Fingolfin's secondborn was minutes away from gracing all gathered with the famed Feanorian rage they did not sign up to witness.

A small crowd formed around the looming elf. "You can't just say that to my son," Aredhel added. Her tone was nowhere as loud as her brother but it held a subtle note of her sorrow.

The said son, huddled in a corner. Trying to avoid any or all possible eye contact with his uncle.

"Tirion welcomes no traitor,"

"Brother-"

"Father-"

Both Aredhel and Idril speak at once and Maeglin wishes to vanish into the air. He truly does not care enough for this feast but his mother...

Turgon does not face Maeglin. Even after all these years, he refuses to acknowledge the nephew he had once cared so much for. Turgon who had once trusted Maeglin with his city and his people.

"Brother! My son has already repented for so long," Maeglin cringes as his mother pushes him forward, closer to his fuming uncle. "And he is a part of this family," Aredhel unwaveringly faces her brother.

Maeglin watches his uncle's features twist in rage as their eyes meet and all that greets Maeglin is unfiltered hatred. "Us Finweans don't betray our own blood. Whatever your son is he is not our blood. Must be fro-"

"Ai, here I thought my prude sensibilities would be spared from this nuisance." The hall falls silent as a voice that rings with the might of a majestic waterfall fills the room.

Maeglin's eyes wander to look for its source, "never thought I would hear such righteous words from a kinslayer." He finds you. And a sane part of his mind should be surprised at your words but he's too enthralled to care for anything else in existence.

You stand tall with the light of trees glimmering in your eyes. A sign of your age. Something that Maeglin notices but remains unbothered by. He never got to see the bloom of Telperion, the trees were gone way before his birth. But as he takes you in, he can't help but doubt if even Teleperion could have outshined you.

At first glance, he wonders if you were somehow a Maia of Varda. The sun, the stars, and the moon seem to reflect an iota of the light that you held. A soft jingle alerts him and he noticed the silvery crown that matches your fair hair. Your every step is followed by a mellow clink of your bracelets, the embellishments of your crown, and your anklets that he notices as he catches a glance of a sliver of your feet.

Dressed in lilac robes you stand taller than most Noldor. As most Teleri did. You are almost as tall as his uncle who he seems to have completely forgotten about.

"You speak as if you never wronged a soul Turukano," you saunter as Maeglin finds you closer with every step you take. You tilt your head as a mocking smile forms on your lips and Maeglin wonders what your true smile would be like. What would it be like to witness and be a reason behind it?

"Last time I knew of it, all that Finweans were really good at was slaying their own kind and stealing what did not belong to them like cowards," You stand next to Maeglin and the hall remains quiet leave for your voice. The hidden steal in your eyes is not gone unnoticed by anyone. Even Maeglin, who is almost too lost daydreaming, can feel the precarity of the situation.

"Did your father try to murder your mother? Or did you grow up with parents who held little love for each other? From what I remember you did not grow up confined in a forest either," your smirk grows wilder as Turgon remains silent.

On the other hand, Maeglin, feels his heart drop. He feels hot shame fill him. You knew...you knew everything. There was no hope...who would love him after all he had done.

For a moment Maeglin considers stepping in and saving you the effort of defending him. However, you continue as his uncle continues avoiding your gaze.

With a faux look of confusion you speak, "Explain it to me, what was your excuse for killing a room full of my kin. Unarmed ellon at that!" Next to Maeglin Idril flinches as your voice raises.

"Tell me all of your righteousness and your suffering. Give me a damned reason of how you could bear killing fathers who were trying to protect their children while your daughter waited for you on the same shores." The light of your eyes shines blindingly and for a split second, an image flashes in Maeglin's mind.

Rotten flesh, blood, red waters, an arrow. Maeglin sees hands...his hands or maybe yours fumbling to stop the blood that flows from the body he finds himself looking at. Silver hair, eyes similar to yours, and the crown... It was your memory. The vision is gone before he realizes and by the look on his uncle's face, it is clear that the vision was not solely for him. His uncle too had seen it.

You lean in towards Turgon, "My brother offered you forgiveness. Letting go of the past." your finger accusingly jabs at Turgon. "He did not lose his city to the pride of building it. He lost it to your foolishness, yet, he forgave you. He did that for his people and yours. So, I hope you stop flaunting this false perception of your mightiness. Otherwise holding on to grudges for ages, we can do that better than you."

Maeglin gawks as he realizes your identity. The survivng monarch of Teleri. Olwe's younger sister, you wink at him with your previous anger nowhere to be seen.

Stepping away from Turgon you gracefully pick a nearby glass of wine. "By Eru! Lighten up people," you add as if you hadn't just changed Maeglin's entire world.

[ithildiin]

IT FEELS LIKE HOME (Adar x Reader)

Hey guys! This is a short work with Adar from "The Rings of Power" in mind. I had posted this on a previous account of mine but later I ended up creating a new one and so, I'm posting this here again, revised. Hope you enjoy it!

“Why do you weep, anarinya?” he is soft spoken, as he often is, and tender in the manner in which he reaches for you, worry laced around his words as he brings you closer, hand finding its way over to your cheek and caressing your skin softly before wiping away the tears that fall freely down your face.

Time all but stills, and for a long while no other sound is heard but that of your crying; in truth, he knows not how long it has been since he’s taken your naked frame into his arms, clutching you further against his bare chest as his hands rub calming circles on your back.

His lips leave a trail of kisses that goes from your neck down to your shoulder – gentle and loving in their nature – all whilst whispering sweet comforting words and reassuring promises as a reminder of his everlasting love and adoration towards you, loud enough for only the both of you to hear; for he dares not proclaim his affection any louder in fear that the wind might betray him to evil things that lurk in the shadows; to foes that although have been slain and fallen in ages past, whose spirit lingers ever hateful and loveless in this world; beings of darkened hearts that would relish in robbing you off him, tainting and corrupting you the very same way Morgoth had tainted and corrupted him in a time long before this one, in a defiant display of wicked and perverse mockery against the maker of the imperishable flame.

And the thought terrifies him beyond measure, for much as he endured throughout his lifetime, but to dwell in a world devoid of your presence and love would be an ill fate far too despairing, and one he can only hope will not befall him; so, he rests his head on the crook of your neck and allows himself to sink further into your body, much like yours does into his, and it feels warm, being here, back in your arms unscathed; it feels like home.

For another long while there is only quiet, a moment’s peace shared in each other’s arms, shielded from all the madness of the world; still, he cannot refrain his mind from wandering and the silence is quick to grow overwhelming and suffocating.

“Anarinya – he calls for you once more, voice raspy and low, barely above a whisper, hesitant in his questioning in fear of what your answer might be – have I caused you pain? Am I the reason for your weeping?”

You can feel the way his body tenses up, how he clings to you tighter, fingers sinking further into your skin as if to hold you in place, fearful that you might slip from his grasp and stray away if only he’d loosen his grip; and your heart aches, for the worry that clouds his mind and the pain you know his heart to carry, and you long desperately to ease his wounded soul; so, you pull away from your shared embrace ever so slightly, enough only so that you have him lock eyes with yours, his orbs a beautiful greyish-blue colour, that study your features expectantly; and your hands cup his face with loving care, easing him off his worries as you bring your lips to his, indulging in a kiss that is quick to deepen; ravenous; one embedded in lustful desperation though no less pure in its intent.

“Meldanya, – your foreheads rest against one another whilst regaining your breath; and you notice the faintest hint of a smile cloud your lover’s lips, seemingly content with the endearment you choose to address him with – you need not worry for me, for these are not tears of pain nor anguish – there is pause in your speech; gaze faltering for just a second as it downs on you just how deeply he has rooted himself in you, well deep into the confinements of your heart – I think that, perhaps, I may have simply missed you too much, and now that I finally have you here once more, so finely intertwined with me, I dread the moment when you shall need to part from my arms again”. And in that moment, you realize that you might have just lied; that your tears may very well hold some pain and anguish to them after all, if only for the way you feel your heartstrings hum dolefully at the prospect of parting from your lover once more.

Calloused fingers brush against your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ever so delicately whilst he takes in your words attentively; and in this moment, he surrenders to you, as he’s done so many times in the pass, complete and utterly enthralled by all that you are; and it is now his turn to realize just how much you’ve rooted yourself in him.

Even now, after all this time, he still cannot truly deem himself deserving of someone such as yourself; and yet, he allows himself to be selfish, daring to take you in his arms and press you against his battle-scarred flesh as if he was worthy; he allows himself to indulge in you completely, to drown in the endless depths of your love fully, for he is absolutely famished for all that you can provide him; drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“I promise you that as long as I draw breath, I will belong to you; I shall love you endlessly with all my might; and when the day comes where my breathing shall cease, be it by battle or ill fate, my heart may very well continue to beat for you until the end of time itself. I will always come back to you, my love, always”.

You hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in the way in which he holds you – a promise of haunting sincerity; and you long for nothing more other than to get lost in him, to become one in a desperate intertwinement of souls; and so you lay back onto the mattress, welcoming him back into your waiting arms and relishing to have his warmth engulf you and keep your exposed body from the gentle touch of cold that tip toes around your chambers.

Rough hands roam up and down your sides tantalizingly, taking their time tracing soft, invisible lines across your skin in a hopeless attempt to have his fingertips memorize your every curve; your body his every touch; and then his lips find yours, when he can no longer resist the urge, and neither of you knows for certain the words you exchange next in between earnest kissing, small gasps escaping you as he tugs at your bottom lip before releasing it with a knowing smile – by what grace the gods of Arda had bestowed upon him he'd have you, for as long as he could, for as long as he was allowed to, for as long as you’d have him – and soon, tender kisses grow hungrier, – your body a canvas that he paints with love bites – and soft strokes of the skin become needier as strong hands hold you in place whilst fingernails scratch at his back as small gasps give way to distorted moans that hardly resemble his name anymore.

And you know not how long it has been since a cacophony of your love-making sounds can be heard echoing throughout your chambers and onto halls, and then brazenly into the wind so all Middle Earth can bear witness to your undeniable love for one another – a testimony of your devotion; all you know is that it feels warm to be back in each other’s arms; it feels like home.

[ofainur]

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë ⠀〳 erulissë⠀ ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. after losing a bet, the king of arda submits to his most rebellious subject, who claims to despise him despite touching him with so much love ( minors dni  ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ explicit descriptions ៸៸ strong language ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ choking ៸៸ bondage ៸៸ 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆-𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 ៸៸ bottom!manwë ៸៸ top!lissë ៸៸ creampie )

· ⊰ note. both with the enabling of @cilil and one person on my erulissë rp blog demanding that I "release receipts" here we have a wonderful smut piece I wrote some time back of our beloved flower girly topping the king of arda ~ honestly I've been brainrotting over these two because for those of you who know her, lissë absolutely despises manwë because of his loyalty to eru and his constant selfless abiding to eru's will, whilst manwë views her with something almost akin to confusion because of her rejection of eru and his will

♡ — 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

"P-Please. . ."

A slight groan leaves his lips as his head hangs back. His eyes glossy as he weeps for his subject. He couldn't help it. She felt so good. She was simply too beautiful. Even as she stared at him with such hate and malice. As her velvet walls squeezed around his cock.

"E-Erulissë — ngh!"

Her thumb on his nipple and rubbing so callously left him gasping for air. He, the Lord of the Winds, left breathless because of some Maia. His own subject.

"For the last time." Leaning over him, her usually gentle face scowls. "You call me Lissë. Or would you rather something else? Something more demeaning of your position right now?"

"I-I can't take it!" Manwë's whine resonates through his marble walls. His fingers curling into his palms as his wrists tug at the binds holding him down. "Let me touch you. Please," he gasps, fluttering his sapphire eyes at her.

"L-Let me touch you. . . Let me feel you ahnn ~"

His lips part and his eyes nearly roll back when her hips start grinding against his again. She's so small. So tight. She's practically sucking him in and sending him to ruin with rough touches from such soft hand.

Fingers coil around white hair and she yanks his head back, her eyes glaring down at his pathetic form. Her supposed king — here he lays. His pale, jade-like chest decorated in red claw marks. His neck wearing her bites and hickies with pride.

He is nothing in this moment.

He will forever be nothing to her.

And yet she wants him more.

"Pathetic excuse for a king." She spits, her fingers pinching and twisting at his nipple as her hips begin to rock faster. Forming an agonisingly slow rhythm that has Manwë seeing stars.

"You. . . " He breathes, trying to buck his hips faster — if only to feel her hand shoot down and claw at his skin. A warning. Which he promptly ignores. His hips piston upward, powerful and quick — fucking her back into an arching position and squelching her needy little cunt.

Erulissë cries out. It's her turn to splutter. But she quickly regains control and shoots her grip around his throat. Clamping down and hunching over him with such feral eyes.

"Y-You lost the bet, Súlimo." He speaks through clenched teeth, despite the pleasure flickering in her eyes. "I told you that you are my slut for the night."

"You are ruining me," he groaned out loudly, his head tossing back as he slows his hips down with much reluctance. "You. . . Oh just you wait. . ." He pants, face heated and brows furrowed. "When these bonds are off I will. . .ungh. . . ruin this tight little thing right in front of my maiar," he rasps. His hips piston a few more times, ramming right up into that tender spot as though to warn her.

"Oh you will scream for me. . ."

Erulissë has to bite down on her lower lip at his threat. Her hand clenches around his throat as her dark hair frames his face. She leans down, face a breath away from his.

"I'd love to see you try. . . You bastard." She chuckles, biting down on his lip and tearing through the sensitive skin. "But for now, you're mine for the evening."

She stares into his half-lidded eyes and no matter how many times she tells herself that she hates him — that she loathes Manwë Súlimo. She cannot deny their passion. Their fervent nights of strewn sheets and insults followed by numerous kisses.

Their kiss is like two stars colliding. Devastating. Ruinous. Teeth clattering, tongues twisting. She feels him tugging on his restraints — desperate to touch her and she laughs against his lips whilst mocking him by roaming her hands through his body. Showing him her control in this situation.

When she parts they are both gasping. Whispering each other's name as though it were a forbidden nectar on their tongues.

She arches her back once more and rides him as though he is nothing. As though he is not her king. And he takes it as though she isn't his subject. Their hips move in sync. Damaging. Bruising. Even their very touch burned with hate.

And even as her release tore through her and she says his name to the heavens — it's as though she is cursing it.

Oh, but he cares not. His slithered eyes watch her clench and squirt around his cock. Around the same man she claims to despise with her entire being.

He chuckles softly, his head limping back into the sheets as she claws at his chest again to get him to shut up.

"I hate you."

She reminds.

"You're beautiful."

He counters.

·⊰ masterlist.

·⊰ tip jar.

·⊰ get tagged for my writing. @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @cilil @justajane @floraroselaughter @justellie17

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[aroace-moron]

Really proud of this little fragment.

[silmawensgarden]

Writing requests are open! 🌱🌸

Writing requests are now open! The request window will be from 17-03-2024 to 31-03-2024. (31st included).

Note: I write only for the Silmarillion elves. If in doubt whether I write for your chosen character; drop an ask and I'll notify you 🌸

You can send in requests with your own name as well as anonymous. I'll answer your ask with the link to your request!

Ps: it's been a while since I got inspired so ask away 🩷

[thescrapwitch]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Maeglin | Lómion, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maeglin | Lómion, Elrond Peredhel & Maeglin | Lómion Characters: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Maeglin | Lómion, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel, Galadriel | Artanis, Ereinion Gil-galad Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Found Family, Canonical Character Death, (just not Maeglin's) Summary:

Maeglin survives the fall of Gondolin. Taken in by Celebrimbor, he spends the next two and a half ages trying to reforge himself into someone new. Someone better.

[jail-crow-of-mandos]

And what if tomorrow there's nobody there to call out?

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, referenced abuse, referenced non-consensual drugging, referenced character death, violence, flashbacks

Pairings: None

Summary: When memories and awareness blur together, Maedhros realizes that Finrod understands far more than he thought. Set in @outofangband's dark Arafinwë AU.

Truth be told, I'd been working on this thing for about a month already, but it coincidentally fit the theme for day one of @tolkiengenweek, so I figured as good a reason as any to force myself to actually finish it.

[animatorweirdo]

Unexpected companionship

Melkor had been yearning for something else for a while, tired of his duties and responsibilities. So, one day, when he noticed a group of young dragons leaving Angband, he decided to follow but what he found was not what he expected.

(I was roleplaying around in chatgpt with this concept and it turned out rather wholesome in the end that I wanted to write it. hope you enjoy it too.)

Warnings: Mentions of abandonment, blindness, and living alone in dangerous woods. Melkor surprisingly does not do anything evil this time.

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

Melkor was brooding in his darkened halls. Overseeing his conquest of Middle Earth and defeating his enemies gave him a certain amount of relief and pleasure, but nowadays, he was yearning for something else. The Silmarils weighed heavily upon his crown, and dealing with everyday affairs involving his subjects, captains, and lieutenants had grown into an arduous task. He yearned for something new, a temporary respite from his responsibilities. 

It was not often he would desire something else than reaching his goal to conquer and become the true ruler of Arda and claiming all rightfully his, such as the silmarils that laid upon his head and now he had such a feeling, which sometimes frustrated him as he could never tell if he was tired or simply bored. He was also never sure what he should do to fulfill that desire. 

Unexpectedly, that day arrived sooner than he had anticipated, as he began to observe an unusual pattern unfolding among his dragons.

A group of hatchlings have been leaving the nesting grounds each day in a strange group. It was strange because his dragons are solitary creatures, so seeing them depart and return together was odd. Usually, he does not care what his abominations do, but since this had been happening for some time he got curious, so one day – he decided to follow them. 

He took up his disguise as a dark cloud and followed the hatchlings when it was time for them to leave for their next trip. They led him away from Angband to a dense forest. There was a human village which left him curious as there were no mountains where the hatchlings could hide their treasures, and the human village had been left untouched, so what in Illuvatar’s name could they be doing here? 

Melkor continued on foot and followed the hatchling’s sounds of shrieks and what seemed to be… purring. 

He found himself watching a lonely cottage, and to his surprise, he found the hatchlings surrounding a lone mortal woman, huddled up close to her and purring affectionately while the woman only smiled and petted them like children. 

It was such a strange sight. His dragons, typically born wild and scarcely malleable, weren't inclined toward affection or submission by nature. Yet, before him, they stood unusually gentle and tranquil, treating this woman as though she were their own mother. How on earth was this maiden capable of such a thing? And not only that, she didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by the sight of them. 

He contemplated if he should confront the woman, but he could not contain his curiosity and decided to appear as a mere stranger to avoid alarming the woman. He then stepped out of the shadows. 

The hatchlings noticed his presence immediately and watched him cautiously. You stared at them, feeling confused until you heard footsteps. Turning your gaze towards the direction from which the sounds emanated, you saw him.

“Good evening, my fair lady,” Melkor began, his voice carrying a pleasant tone. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I couldn't help but notice you are surrounded by these splendid creatures. I am intrigued, for they are renowned for their aggressiveness. I wonder how you have achieved such a remarkable thing?” he said. 

“Oh— hello, good sir,” you greeted with a smile. 

“Uhmm…well… I do not know about them being aggressive. They can sometimes be a bit sassy to me, but other times they’re nothing but sweethearts to me,” you smiled softly as one of the dragons pushed its head against your palm, purring in delight. “Fascinating…” Melkor uttered as he watched you. “And you’re not afraid of these creatures?” he questioned, and you softly laughed. “Of course not. They have done nothing to harm me. On the contrary, they have kept me company and sometimes helped me find food,” you explained. “Even though I’m not quite certain what they are… All I know is they’re big lizards with wings. Do you possibly know what they are, good sir?” you looked up to him. 

“They’re known as… dragons, my fair lady. Fierce creatures of fire and destruction. They have a quiet reputation outside these woods,” Melkor answered. 

“Dragons…?” you said curiously. “Oh, I think I have heard about them, nothing nice thought,” you answered. “But honestly, they don’t remind me of anything I heard in the passing rumors. They actually kinda remind me of oversized cats with scales and wings,” you giggled, making him crack a rare smile. He then remembered what you said earlier. “They keep you… company?” he questioned. 

“Yes. It can get kinda lonely in these woods. I don’t often get visitors, but one day I encountered one of these little fellows— they have been visiting me ever since.” you smiled fondly. “May I ask how that happened?” Melkor asked. 

“Well… one day, I was gathering some berries and found this one trapped in a cruel hunter’s snare,” you said, gently scratching beneath the dragon perched on your shoulder. “I couldn't bring myself to leave him there; he would have become easy prey for predators or hunters,” you explained. "He did snap at me for a long time and bit me, but when his wing got better, he turned into the most affectionate cuddle bug in the world. Then, he brought his friends along, and they have been keeping me company ever since,” you said.

“Honestly, they have been treating me better than most people. Not even my own family come to visit me this often,” you said, gaining the dark Valar’s attention. 

“And why is that, If I may ask?” Melkor tilted his head in curiosity.

“Well – if my eyes and raggedy appearance were not obvious enough. It's because I’m blind, good sir,” you confessed, making Melkor look at you with surprise. You looked so normal that he didn’t take you for a blind person, but now that he looked at you – he could see some strange mist behind your eyes, and your clothes did look very poor. It explained a lot to him, like why you didn’t seem afraid of his creations or him in fact. 

“My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were incapable of seeing,” Melkor apologized. “It’s fine. I got told many times that I don’t look blind, so I’m used to people assuming,” you softly smiled with a dismissing hand. 

“I was born blind, and my family did not want to take extra responsibility for me. Unfortunately for people like me, it's rather common to be left to live alone in woods like this, and that is what my family did to me,” you explained with a saddened look. “They tried to explain that I would be much safer if I lived here, but I guessed their true intentions when they stopped visiting me so often and got used to the sounds of wolves howling each night,” you took a deep sigh.

“Sometimes I think they wish that I tragically end up getting eaten by the wolves, taken by how surprised they always sound when they visit,” you said.

“That sounds…rather cruel. To put into a situation like that, especially for something you couldn't control since birth,” Melkor thoughtfully said. “Indeed… but I learned my way around here, so it's fine,” you replied. 

“You know, being blind is rather interesting in a way. You focus so much more on your sense of hearing and smell that it feels like it's a totally new world,” you explained. “And since you cannot see, nothing truly looks pretty or ugly to you,” you giggled. 

“And also…” you looked down upon the hatchlings with a fond smile. “I stopped being lonely when these little friends started visiting me, so I’m happy,” you said while petting one of them. 

Melkor sensed an odd feeling of warmth within his chest after listening to you talk and watching you look at his creations with such a fond expression. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and oddly he liked it. 

“Oh, sorry for rambling. You most likely do not want to hear my sob story,” you glanced apologetically. 

“It's fine, my fair lady. I asked, and you answered,” Melkor said sweetly. “On the contrary, I find your resolve to find positivity in things despite your rough predicament admirable and your ability to navigate the world without eyesight remarkable. And you possess a gentle heart even for creatures hated by others which is a rare thing in this world,” he explained smoothly. “Oh— you flatter me too much, good sir,” you said with a flush which made him smirk. 

“If my fair lady permits it — may I join you for a chat? I would love to hear more about your time with these creatures,” Melkor asked.

“Oh— certainly!” you exclaimed, clapping your hands together. “I would love for you to join. I’m afraid I do not have any refreshments to offer, though,” you said.

"Your company is more than enough," he said politely.

“Ah… if you say so,” you smiled at him. “Perhaps you could share stories and news of the outside world. They rarely come around here,” you suggested.

“Of course, a fair exchange,” Melkor answered as he sat beside you, and you both talked and shared stories. You were completely unaware of whom you were conversing with, but Melkor did not mind as he found his remedy for his yearning for something else.

[cilil]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

AN: These are coming up a bit slower, but I'm making progress :) @feast-of-horns @lvsifer here's the Manwë x Varda piece I promised!

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Manwë x Varda 𓄌 Synopsis: The queen hunts her king at the first Feast of Horns, and a decree is issued. 𓄌 Warnings: Some violence, blood, feral!Varda (she's a space monster after all), predator/prey, smut, dirty talk 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.7k words) | AO3

"Fly freely today and run fast, beloved. I wish to claim a hard-won prize, not be placated with an easy catch."

These had been Varda's words to Manwë before Oromë's feast, the first of its kind. The king and queen were in attendance as well, though out of curiosity and for their own enjoyment rather than duty. 

"Your wish is my command," he had said to her before joining the Hunted. 

It seemed as though he had truly taken her words to heart, Varda thought now, racing across the fields of Arda and through mighty forests in hot pursuit of her majestic prey. Manwë, that much was clear, would not be caught by anyone else, regardless of whether another Hunter had the courage to interfere with the queen or not. Too swift was he who was air and wind itself and gracefully flew around, evading any who were lucky enough to even see him come and go as he pleased. 

Yet Varda knew where he was at all times, even when he disappeared from her field of vision. Her hearing was sharp and keen, and she knew Manwë too well, easily recognizing the sounds he made among thousands of others. The way his wind rushed through hair and feathers and brushed over skin, his steady breath, the beating of his wings and heart alike. 

With the speed of starlight, she followed him. He knew she was there as well, had long since seen and sensed her. Knowing how fast his wife could catch up, Manwë was wise enough to change directions frequently, even flying into mountains and forests where he could vanish from her sight. 

Laughing to herself, Varda skipped between patches of light filtering through the leafage of Yavanna's trees to hide herself as well. It was a fun game, though challenging for the Lady of Light who already had trouble keeping her fána dim enough to be gazed upon safely. 

They were alone now, far away from the others. It suited her well enough; she much desired to catch and enjoy her elusive prey in peace. 

It was time to complete her hunt. 

On her back rested the mighty bow of winds, belonging to none other than Manwë himself, though Varda had taken it before the feast since he wasn't going to need it. He was currently flitting between leaves and branches, skillfully dodging any and all obstacles, and thought himself safe; and he would be, if not for his wife's infallible senses and deadly precision. 

Focusing all of her attention on him to become one and mirror his movements, Varda readied a single arrow of light, one of her famed star-shots. What would be a devastating, if not lethal projectile for lesser beings would not permanently injure her husband, she knew, yet something stronger than a normal arrow would be needed to throw the Elder King down from his throne of winds. 

Once she was certain where his path would lead, she rushed in, bringing herself close enough and in line to aim and shoot. As much as Varda loved him and would bring down the very firmament onto any and all who would hurt her beloved, her mien nevertheless lit up with a smile of satisfaction when a flash of light, an inhuman, bird-like shriek and a soft thud confirmed that her star-shot had found its mark. 

There he was, the King of Arda, lying on the forest ground in a heap of miraculously pristine robes and white feathers. Manwë managed to unfurl his crumpled wings and spread them out before rolling on his back in defeat, blue eyes still dazed from his fall, and revealing a glittering arrow stuck in his shoulder. 

Varda approached him slowly and with leisurely grace, savouring her moment of triumph. Tiny stars twinkled where she went and were soon joined by the bow as she dropped it next to her husband. 

"I have come to claim my catch," she announced. 

Manwë exhaled, and his mien relaxed as if the pain had already left him. And perhaps it had indeed, for it was said that the Elder King was gifted with the ability to heal, as would be the other rightful kings among Ilúvatar's Children in the future. 

"I yield, my lady, and shall be all yours henceforth," he said.

"Indeed, you are."

Unable to resist any longer, Varda was on him within a split second and tore his robes to shreds like a wild beast from the outer regions of Arda until her nails and teeth dug into soft, sweet-smelling skin instead. 

"Such delicious prey," she purred, "however shall I devour you?" 

"In body and spirit," Manwë replied, demure but fearless. 

He spread his legs for her, knowing what was expected of him, and Varda was pleased. Her beloved was always so good and obedient. She might yet consider letting him be inside her, but as always, he would have to earn such a boon from his queen first. 

Manwë appeared to have eagerly anticipated his capture, Varda noted with a content smile. The heady smell of his arousal had permeated the air even before she saw the wetness glistening on the insides of his thighs, leaking out of his fána as it impatiently yearned to be completed by its other half. 

She focused on her own and willed her flesh to form a phallus worthy of a king. It rose proudly between her legs, ready to penetrate her beloved's body like her arrow had, and Varda wasted no time doing just that. 

There was no cry of pain, only muted Valarin mumbling and melodious moans. Manwë had prepared himself well and knew to yield to his queen. Brows furrowed, eyelids fluttering, he was perfect in her eyes. 

Inevitably, Varda's gaze was drawn to the arrow again. A rivulet of blood, fresh and so wonderfully red, contrasting pale skin and white feathers, had trickled down Manwë's arm and torso, and her thrusts slowly but surely coaxed more out of him. 

Yes. Varda placed a hand on his chest. She wanted to hold him down and possess him, willing gravity to seize his fána and keep it in place. Mine.

Her fingers, splayed wide as if she wished to grasp his entire rib cage in one hand, dipped into the idly flowing red rivulet. Oh, how she had longed for this — to see her loyal, loving husband bleed for her. And of course Manwë hadn't disappointed her. He took what she gave him and loved it. 

For a brief moment, Varda envisioned her fist closing around the arrow's shaft to yank it out and watch more blood flow, but she admonished herself not to be cruel to one who didn't deserve it; she felt that, if faced with such delicious earthly delights, she might make good on her word and devour him after all. 

Inside her beloved the arrow would stay, as did she. 

Yet her primal instincts could not fully be constrained, especially not when pure desire coursed through her veins and lust dissolved her self-control. Varda placed her free hand on Manwë's throat and tightened her grip, futile though it was — the Lord of the Breath of Arda would never find himself lacking his own element. Even so, the sensation of soft flesh constrained in her grasp and the lovely view of lips parting to gasp for air was delightful. 

More arms broke out of her shoulders, summoned by impulse rather than conscious choice, and she scratched and clawed at every bit of flesh and skin she could reach, bringing their fánar closer and closer together. Thus the Elder King himself became her willing, helpless prey, and Varda's delight caused the veins beneath her skin to glow and her very fána to nearly break apart, held together by the gravity of her single-minded purpose. 

Finally, mercifully, she brought their lips together in a searing kiss and felt Manwë arching underneath her as he found his release. His passion made her grin, showing a row of sharp teeth, but no less loving; it touched her that out of all the things she was doing to him, a kiss was what pushed him over the edge. 

Her heart filled with love and fondness in tandem with her light filling him, a reward for his loyalty and bravery. One by one her many arms released him and retreated back into her flesh, and Varda gracefully rose to her knees and withdrew from her beloved. 

Manwë was a mess, his robes torn to shreds that barely clung to his form, his fána covered in patterns of red, the arrow still sticking out of him. The smaller scratches she had left were already healing, and his expression was serene, showing no signs of pain. 

"You will forgive me for carrying you home like this," Varda said, her voice quiet and even now that she was satisfied. 

"If you worry that I am ashamed, I assure you that I feel no such thing," Manwë responded with a content sigh. "There is no shame in being caught by my queen and bearing the marks of her desire." 

"You should be careful with being such a sweet little bird, or I might eat you after all," Varda teased gently and lifted him up with both arms. As usual, Manwë was pleasantly light and tucked his head under her chin in complete disregard of his current shoulder injury. 

And so the King and Queen of Arda returned to Almaren, sparking many whispers and countless rumours among the other Ainur, though they cared little about that and enjoyed the feast once Estë had seen to removing the arrow. 

Yet as great as their enjoyment had been, both Manwë and Varda bowed their heads in agreement when the Lady of Healing came before them and Oromë and Varda after the festivities to suggest limiting the use of force and weapons. 

"Mighty you are indeed, and I worry not that you shall heal swiftly from this hunt," Estë said, "but let us not forget that in time the Children shall walk upon Arda alongside us, and their bodies will be more susceptible to injury. I would prefer not to find out what a star-shot or any of our other weapons and powers could do to them."

She inclined her head towards Varda and Oromë. "Not that I doubt your aim, but I am certain you understand." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii