#tidalhaired

[sokkaisms]

Icebreaker for @tidalhaired

"Wow… it's like if a fancy teapot married a mountain and they hired a rainbow as their interior designer."

[thegreatstrongbow]

FMK: Túrin, Thingol, Hel (for Beleg)

Fuck, Marry, Kiss

"Ah, what a hard one!" He sighed dramatically. "I think... fuck Thingol, as I have done so, and it is a pleasant experience. Marry my sweet Túrin, if he is agreeable, and kiss Hel. She is my friend, but I would not like to make Mablung jealous."

[honorforged-archived]

Starter for @tidalhaired

Zuko stood at the edge of the immaculate elven hall, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he scanned the place like it had personally offended him. Which, honestly, it kind of had. The whole valley reeked of serenity and eternal harmony, which was just perfect considering he was about two seconds away from combusting.

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and slow. “I swear, if he’s in a silk robe eating grapes off a silver tray, I’m leaving him here.” He glanced up at the impossibly elegant ceilings, muttering under his breath. “Three months. Three months of dead ends, sleepless nights, and chasing rumors across the Earth Kingdom while he’s out here writing poetry about talking trees.” Zuko paced a step to the side, fingers twitching like they wanted to ignite.

“Why do I even bother? No one makes me chase after him. No one asks me to clean up his messes.” He paused, jaw tight. His voice dropped to a low, gritted whisper. “If he even mentions the words elven spa treatment, I'm throwing him into the river.”

Zuko turned toward the entranceway, eyes narrowed. He stood there in silence for a beat longer, trying to will the flames inside him to settle. They didn’t.

[saltuary]

[   GENTLE   ]     ,     sender  holds  receiver's  face  in  their  hands.

Beyond the filmy veil of the window, the world was softening – bleeding from violet into rose, as though the sky itself had been kissed too deeply and now blushed profusely.

An unlikely pair, they lay tangled together, the warmth between them a lingering glow, fragrant and drowsy.  Elrond reclined, his hair spilling like dark wine across the pale expanse of linen.  Morning’s light reached for him, touching him tenderly, anointing the gentle rise of his abdomen, the fine arch of his ribs, the ageless smoothness of a body untouched by time, unbruised by mortality.

Faramir, heavy with desire and half-sleep, pressed a kiss just beneath the curve of Elrond’s breastbone.  Another at the plane of his stomach, and then –

Hands – soft, smooth as alabaster – rose to cradle his face.  Faramir’s brows lifted faintly, and he gazed upward, reading something solemn in that still expression.  Concern, perhaps, or a sorrow too deep for even this soft hour to dispel.

“Do you tire of my mouth?” he asked, half in jest, his voice a quiet, intimate thing.

Elrond did not answer in words, only watched him, and Faramir felt the silence fill with meaning.

“Ah, you worry that I am tired,” he murmured.

He reached up then, enclosing those arresting wrists in his hands, a gesture that was both assurance and defiance.  His lips curved faintly, Elrond’s thumbs now catching on the corners of a soft smile. 

“I have not had my fill of you yet.”

Then, slowly, deliberately, he bent once more, and placed another kiss upon the tundra of Elrond’s stomach.

“Worry not,” Faramir murmured against warm skin.  “I will sleep long and deep after this.”

Dawn was breaking.  It bled in golden streaks across the floor, climbing into the bed like a third presence. Elrond’s hands did not fall away, and Faramir, although weary in the flesh, burned still with that mortal flame – brief, but bright enough to warm even the deathless.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed, then spoke no more, his devoted mouth once again preoccupied.

[kingsfcil]

@tidalhaired liked for a starter!

Gasps and surprised cries rippled through the hall as the young boy darted through, sending elves scrambling out of his path. Completely engrossed in his urgent mission, Estel paid no mind to the stir he created. Within the folds of his cloak, he carefully carefully carried a small baby fox, the tiny creature bearing the mark of a painful snare. Only one person, he knew, possessed the skill to mend its wounds.

"Lord Elrond!" He called as he burst into the elven-lord's library. "We need your help!"

[urukfather]

@tidalhaired asked: ◎ = taking care of them while ill.

It had worried Adar greatly to see illness befall the Lord Elrond, Peredhel, especially if he caught some malady from his Children's Camp. Adar never once conceived the idea of an Elf falling into illnesses that such plagued Mortals. It riddled himself greatly. No it could not be due to Elrond's paternal heritage? A seeming curse laid upon Elrond who chose his House of Elwë choosing to remain immortal above mortal. Such things the Father of Uruks could ponder later. Furrowed brows displayed confusion and a shade of anxiety.

"Out of all the ways to surprise me, this is one most unwelcomed."

To the matter at hand, he had Elrond laying on a makeshift cot in a healing tent of sorts in his camp. The Elf Lord was spiking a fever with such heat that the lands beyond the South deep into Harad during midsummer would seem a temperate Winter. But shivering as if he was trapped upon the summit of Forodwaith.

In black speech he commanded his children to brew a soup and an elixir of healing. Dreadful moments later Glûg came back with a brown drink blended with a thimble of Miruvórë. With his left hand he gently but firmly raised the Ill Elf Lord so he may sit up. With his right hand he held the elixir.

"I will warn you to those not accustomed to such drinks this may burn going down but this should be restoring to you, so drink deep."

Adar placed the elixir to Lord Elrond's lips slightly leaning the cup as to encourage the Peredhel to drink.

[ga1adriel]

"I want to apologize." Elrond was anything but proud how he had been treating his dearest friend. Galadriel had trusted him with her fears and her pain, and he had dismissed her in fear of her words being true. That evil was indeed still out there. And true her words had been, and why shouldn't they be? She was so very wise, her long life a rough teacher. "You were right about Sauron being ever in motion, scheming and waiting while the Eldar deluded themselves into peace and a world free of shadow. I see now that such a thing may never be possible."

Gingerly, he reached out to take her hand, where Nenya glimmered in the sunlight around a slender ring finger. He remembered how it had felt carrying the ring around his own finger, foreign but no so, because it made him feel closer to Galadriel, her essence intervowen in this little piece of perfection. His thumb gently brushed over the back of her hand. "I have been a poor friend but my love for you is eternal."

❛ elrond - ❜ eyes soften almost wistfully, as if she does not wish to hear him utter the words. as if even thinking them belays a curse of her own immaculate construction. her friend is pained and she has been the source of that discomfort and anguish - her actions, her thoughts - beliefs. galadriel's eyebrows knit earnestly as he speaks, her mind straying to the past. to her decisions. her mistakes. so much time seems to have passed since her confession at the shoreline of the grey havens, since his gaze had been so full of censure and judgement. did she not deserve it then? does she not deserve it now ?

( would it hurt him still to know that her feelings have not changed ? that the door is shut, but she fears the enemy more now than ever. that the deep throbbing pulse of darkness that lingers above her heart feels more violent than any other she has ever felt within in. the door is not shut - it cannot be so. she has been betrayed by her own flesh ... )

❛ let us not dwell on what was spoken in fear and doubt - know now that you were and always are within my thoughts, within my heart. ❜ hands move to cover his own, nenya once again upon her finger - chiming brightly as her expression eases from one of discomfort. her dearest heart. her ever fixed mark.

❛ we are stronger together, melith nin - this wound will heal. i will be more myself because of it, not despite it. ❜

[sashaofravenlock]

Continued from X @tidalhaired

Droplets of cool water dripped down her wrists, soaking into her skirts as she carefully washed blood from her lover's face. Starvation was a foe she was all too familiar with, and she knew the desperation and madness it left in its wake. If it was able to drive her senses from her, it was no surprise that it twisted the minds of beings with less will power.

When violence initially broke out, she was frozen in fear, so terrified of the humans that her power was forgotten. It was the panic in Elrond's voice which brought it to its peak. A thicket of thorny brier overtook the earth, protecting them from the worst of the attack and bringing it to an end when a harvest of ripe berries formed upon the branches.

Elrond's touch once more brought her mind forward and soothed frayed nerves, allowing her to cease her anxious fussing over him and place the bloodied rag aside. With his head in her lap, she offered him a gentle smile, immediately caressing his face and travelling up to massage his scalp. "I am glad that you still consider me a good companion despite how I froze when the conflict broke out."

[bjcrke]

@tidalhaired

never again might he look upon a land so wondrous and fair. beneath an oak tree tínu watches a stretch of cloud cross the moon in full beam, dimming the ever brilliant light for a passing moment before it peeks through and lights the clearing once more; it is a high tide too and the smell of rainfall hangs heavy in the air. it will be true winter soon and the blue roses will bloom in the frost along the riverbanks, filly leaves leaving thick canopies of wet mulch and bark rot to help nurture the growth below for the season. and none of it warms his heart. there is a chill in the air and blood in the snow.

“a shadow rises in the east. haladrim muster great garrisons in rhûn and the wind shifts south.” he looks to lord elrond. they are not dissimilar in height, nor even countenance and colouring if one cared to compare; but where lord elrond is lean, tínu is broad, where the lord of rivendell might glide the prince of erebor thunders. “is this the gift of the eldar then? to sense some great change in the balance of middle earth and feel helplessly unable to stop it?”

[watcherofroads]

@tidalhaired

from x

[   KNEEL   ]     ,     sender  gets  down  on  one  knee. 

“Please, there is never a need to kneel, mellon. My heart sings to see your safe return to us today.” He reached out and lowered his hand, placing it on Tirron’s shoulder. Watchful eyes already scanned the other’s face. The healer inside him could never resist to immediately assess whether someone was hurt, be it in body or in spirit. He helped Tirron stand and his palm brushed downwards, from Tirron’s shoulder to his heart instead. It beat against Elrond’s palm like a drum, steadily and a little faster than it would in a calm situation. Tirron was nervous. Perhaps the journey had been perillious, as it often tended to be these days. But his form and the rhythm was healthy, so it must be the guilt for something he had no control over that still ate away at him. If only Elrond found a way to soothe this ache as well. Tirron wandered the roads in his endless watch, dedicating his life to protect those who were unable to defend themselves. It was a noble cause and Elrond admired it greatly, yet he wished Tirron were better at looking after himself. Being kind to others required showing kindness to oneself. And so whenever Tirron returned from one of his journeys, Elrond was relieved to see him in one piece. As for the scar on his fair face, it was the next spot that Elrond’s careful fingers traced. It looked reddened when usually it was pale. Perhaps just the increased bloodflow, caused by his nervousness? “Does it smart? The weather has been very humid and unkind to scars lately. It causes the skin to feel like it is stretched too thin and pull uncomfortably. I have just what you need to ease the discomfort though. But first, a meal and then rest.”

It had only felt right to kneel before the one who had tended him for millennia. Tirron's heart had been unwavering in its fealty to Gil-Galad, and now found that same steadfast devotion for the High King's standard bearer.

"It brings me peace to be within Imladris once more. It remains a sanctuary, blessedly untouched by the shadow that creeps across the world."

Stepping across the border into the Trollshaws had been like a deep breath after a long silence. Three years had passed since the Last Homely House had embraced him. His feet had taken him down the North-South Road over the Hithaeglir to Lorien, the Greenwood, and the Black Land.

It was the land of ash and fire that had drawn him. His need to keep vigil at the Black Gates where so many of his friends and kinsmen had died. The Last Alliance had won at great cost, but for how long?

His thoughts returned to the present. Elrond's touch was not unfamiliar or unwelcomed. A poignant longing for connection stirred within him, a simple yearning for touch that he usually resolutely pushed aside, finding instead a quiet solace and kinship with the birds and beasts of the forest. Beneath his friend's gentle touch, Tirron's carefully constructed composure crumbled.

"It has vexed me since crossing the Tharbad. I would welcome the relief." Tirron paused, his gaze not faltering. He had not rushed back from the south without reason. It was too soon to speak of such matters, after a meal that had not been eaten on horseback, he could tell the tale. Lord Elrond would need to know.

[askrossiel]

“I was supposed to protect you and here you are saving me. I’m sorry”

"Every student requires... practical tests once in a while, right? Just... think of this as part of my education."

And an intimidating test indeed, to treat the Lord of Imladris in his own healing-halls. She sang as she worked, the same melodies that had been employed upon her so many times; and though her fëa had less might for her voice to draw upon, it helped her cautious hands remain steady.

[thegreatstrongbow]

"You need rest, Captain." Elrond placed a cup of herbal tea on the table. "This will help you. Now drink it and then off you go, or do I have to tuck you in personally?"

Help his insomnia

"I am not tired." It was a weak protest, with the circles under his eyes and the lethargy in every movement. Beleg warmed his hands on the cup for a moment, then took a single sip. Then another. It was soothing.

"... will you actually tuck me in?"

[honorforged-archived]

✏️

Send in ✏️ and I’ll use and incorrect quote generator featuring both our muses!

Elrond: Zuko, please calm down.

Zuko: I asked for two large fries!

Zuko: *dumps fries onto table*

Zuko: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

[saltuary]

⪼ @tidalhaired // cont.

Such gentle words.

Such encouraging words.

Faramir’s breath caught in his throat, his body trembling sweetly as Elrond set him free, hips gliding in a rhythm both devastating and divine. Elrond carved into him with a care that belied the fervour of their bodies, and Faramir welcomed it – arms looped around the Elf-lord’s shoulders, clinging as if the world might tear at the seams should he dare let go.

A sob escaped him, soft and rapturous. He no longer feared the sound of his own voice. Not here, not now.

Their mouths found each other again, hungry and adoring. Faramir lost himself in that kiss, in the taste, the heat, the clash of lips and press of tongue. It drowned him, unmade him. He was gone, undone, burned away in a fire that did not hurt. There was no pain. No past. No disappointment. No black-sailed ships or gleaming white towers.

Only Elrond.

Only his body, his breath, his gaze, his eyes dark and fixed on him.

Only the white-hot bricks of pleasure building low in his belly.

“I am yours,” Faramir whispered, ragged and reverent, resting their foreheads together. The hands of a prince, poet, soldier, swept gently through the Elf-lord’s dark curls, marvelling at their softness. “Yours.”

[wintersovereign]

"Now I am most curious, my lady. What is your type?"

“I want someone calm and consistent, not because I’m fragile, but because the world around me rarely is. I need someone who respects my strength, not one who fears it or tries to tame it. Someone who challenges my mind, holds real conversations, and meets me as an equal.” She looks into his eyes, a soft smile tugging at her lips, a flush of warmth coloring her cheeks. She wonders if he knows, if he even suspects how much she wishes that man were him.

“I want to feel safe enough to be soft... because I'm tired of having to pretend I'm not. He doesn’t need to understand everything about my power, but he shouldn’t flinch from it either. I want someone who can stand beside me and say, you don’t have to hide. And when I retreat into myself, I want him to bring me back, gently, lovingly.”

[urukfather]

@tidalhaired asked: #get scruff'd Elrond vc: that's mean :(

A dark eyebrow quirked above grey eyes.

"You were upset and harming my children, then aimed your blade upon myself Elrond Peredhel. I very much doubt that if I politely asked you to lay your arms on the field that you would have acquiesced seeing as you were so driven to war. Therefore I had to scruff you like a petulant yaulë and hope the flames of anger within you would settled."