#tyelpërinquar

[doodle-pops]

Midnight Mischief

Celebrimbor x reader

Kinktober 2023: Size Kink/Stomach Bulging

Warnings: fem!reader, stomach bulging, size difference, dirty talking, rough sex, who knew Tyelpë had such a dom side to him

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: Frustrated and unable to complete his latest craftsmanship, Tyelpë takes it upon himself to become enticed by your offering to relieve his stress.

List of Requests

“S–Slow down Tyelpë…too much!” you managed, voice sucked in and raspy as he ploughed into you. Your warm walls happened to feel the enormous stretch of his cock sliding through your passageway to nestle where it belonged from the very start.

The very notion and visual of his massive body towering over your tiny one—his hands on your thighs, gripping and kneading your flesh, marvelling at its softness—spiralled you into ecstasy. How easily he consumed the very existence of your being with his massive structure.

“I doubt that mírë—look at how well you take me…” his raspy voice trailed off to stare at where his cock constantly sliding in and out your entrance, loving the motion of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs and sound that followed. Its sight was even better when his eyes fell on your cunt—your lips were stretched around his shaft and gripping him like death. He laughed; your lips said one thing while your body betrayed you. “My cock is never too much for your pretty little cunt.”

Nails scraping against the wooden table, you sucked in a deep breath and remained silent at the unspeakable pleasure being churned inside the pit of your core. The mixture of the constant sliding in and out of his robust and heavy cock, the brushing of his tip against your sweet spot and the imprint of everything being visible in your lower abdomen made rivers of arousal gushed and soaked his cock. A heavy groan was ripped from his throat causing you to dart your hooded eyes upwards to catch the look of frustration rippling throughout his body. His arms were tense and veins prominent, even in his neck as he seductively tossed his head backwards, allowing his hair to cascade over his shoulder; you saw his disturbance.

Your whines and pants were all stuck at the back of your throat from the force he was thrusting away. All you could do was gasp as his cock touched your cervix and curved to meet your sweet spot. You felt like you were going insane from the pleasure he gave your tiny body. It was amazing that you could handle all of him and be wholly enamoured at the same time. All the struggling to breathe as his cock felt like it was tearing you in half and punching you in your gut was deliciously painful; you were his little jewel, you were made for him, therefore you could take all that he gave.

Feeling your legs pushed apart wider as your body was dragged to the edge of the table, ass hanging off, his calloused hands moved them upwards to give him more access. It was a rare moment when you saw him this loose, visceral and untamed. Without an absolute care as he relieved himself deep in your heat. All the sounds of your pleasure, the toes curling, eyes shut, lips parted, and head lulled, told him he was doing a good job—an ounce of control in his life he fought to grasp. What more did he need when he could obtain it from you?

You who delivered yourself so sweetly with your charming honey–like voice, dressed in a flimsy nightgown and made your way to the forge to inspect your husband’s performance. You who were currently being ploughed into and hanging on for dear life as he made himself feel at home within your heat. His place of solace.

Finding the strength to lean on your forearms which allowed your breasts to spill from the shards of your nightgown, you sucked in another sharp breath when he slowed and splayed his entire hand over your abdomen. The heat radiating from his palms provided extra heat to the fire already building, but you were marvelled. Not once did you realise how consumed you were by him. His scent, his smile, his charm, his abilities, the contrast of size, everything that was off him.

“You’re so perfect,” he praised. “Made for me.”

In return, you looked up at him, unable to respond like you wanted and nodded with whimpers. Your head moved up and down as your body jerked back and forth on the table, taking the substantial force of his thrusts. From where his hands were resting, his fingers slid lower until they met your bundle of nerves and rubbed it. It was as if a switch went off; your body was electrocuted the minute he touched your most sensitive nub, sending you into a frenzy.

Arching off the table and whining about how good it felt, you were chanting his name like a prayer. “Sogoodsogoodsogood, Tyelpë! Fuck, ohmygod!” you cried out, twitching on his work table while he remodelled and redesigned you to take his cock as you were always made for.

There was a moment when your head began spinning, the air getting lighter and lighter as your pleasure grew simultaneously. Hands were no lower scraping away at the table, but lunging at his arms for support as he took you to town. It was a beautiful sight to witness though; he gazing at you through hooded eyes, strands of hair clinging to his sweaty skin and falling in his face—most of them were results from his accidents—the sheen of sweat on his robust body and the look of satisfaction on his face. His frustration was diminishing and turning into elation the longer he watched as you cried for him; your bliss on display and letting him know his prowess.

He didn’t hiss or wince when your nails curled into his arms, he only cast a swift look at where you clung to him before removing your right arm and placing it over your abdomen. To feel what he saw and felt as he satisfied his Lady; how easily consumed you were by him, how your body was made for him. Once your hand rested against your skin, he pressed down and earned a series of gasps, never slowing his thrusts or his ministrations on your bundle of nerves as you felt him. 

“Feel me—feel how deep I am in you? How much you drive me crazy? How much you let me consume you?” he groaned.

The motion of his cock, the ridges and bumps, could be felt as he rolled his hips into your spongy walls. Just feeling him under your fingertips as he pushed into you prompted for an avalanche of arousal to flow out, gushing without an ounce of decorum. Your eyes darted upwards to meet his look of satisfaction, the ‘I did that to you’ look.

Eyes flickering back and forth between your hands intertwined with his and feeling his cock, and his facial expressions, you bit your lips to prevent a whine from escaping, failing unfortunately. “Tyelpë, oh fuck! Ah—” You were cut off by an unexpected pinch of your clit and a deep rumble reverberating in the pit of his chest.

“You like that don’t you mírë?” he teased, leaning his body lower to rest his sweaty chest against yours. He licked his lips at the contact of your soft breast being squeezed against his chest and the stifled panting in his ears now that his head was beside yours. “You like how I fit so perfectly in you? How tight you feel around me? How much smaller you are?”

Turning his head to the right, his lips came in contact with your neck and created an artwork that combined a series of bites and rough kisses. The weight of his larger body pressing against yours, pushing your back flat against the uncomfortable table while he used you to relieve his stress, was heavenly. You enjoyed this; being crushed under his massive, muscular form, feeling all the ripples of his iron muscles under his thrusts. The contraction of his abdomen against yours, the erratic heartbeat, his sweaty skin slipping and sliding deliciously over yours, all these gestures left you feeling blessed.

“I’m amazed that you could take me…all of me,” he uttered softly in the crook of your neck before landing a kiss on your pulse, feeling you shiver. “So easily I could break you, and yet, you take me so well…”

The hand that held yours against your abdomen, rubbed the area eliciting a soft groan from you.

“So deep, Tyelpë! So deep—” Your whines were cut off at the breaking of your arousal and high coming onto you like a tidal wave. This made him chuckle, relieved to know that you were loving yourself on his cock, slowly losing yourself—it always started like this before he pushed you past no return. He always thanked you, of course, you were his darling, and for managing his sheer prowess, rewards were necessary.

Switching your hand from his arm, it swung around his back to curl into his muscles, unable to dig deeply but leave little moon crescents; a little something he would take notice of whenever he was taking a bath. Crying into his shoulder, your mouth clamped down and bit against him as your toes curled from the intensity of everything, nonetheless, he was far from finished with you. There was much to be relieved, and he was only a third of the way, the night was still young for your mischievous lovemaking—rather you would say, vigour fucking while he described it as heavenly artwork.

“I find that hard to believe, mírë. I’m sure you can take more of me—give me another,” he goads, licking a stripe from the base of your neck to your chin before settling against your lips. Eyes locked with your closed ones, he grinned and donned a few pecks to your lips humorously. At this point, your muscles were crying for a moment of relief from the endless pressure they were experiencing. Being folded and pressed into the table like a piece of paper was still something you hadn’t adapted to after years of marriage. It wasn’t every day he was stressed.

Animalistic, you could have sworn the very power he gained his stamina from stemmed from his brooding family and their passionate tendency to be rough and wild. He was no different as much as he attempted to separate the sheep from the goat. Some things ran deeper than blood and towards natural instincts. Having you in his arms, trembling and crying out from your previous orgasm and listening to the music produced by his heavy balls slapping against your ass and his hips against your thighs, he beamed on the inside. This was genuinely the way to relieve one’s frustration, especially when you were smaller than him.

The rapid clamping of your walls around his length as it continued to drive into you increased once more as another round of orgasm was appearing. His cock was bathed in your arousal, some dripping down his balls creating a slick sound with every ‘pat–pat’.

“I could just devour you right now…ah! Hmm, You squeeze me so well,” he hissed and pushed himself against you with more weight, immobilising you against the table for good. There was nowhere else to escape besides taking the vicious pounding he was giving to your heat. All the cries of his name were tumbling past your lips like an avalanche, nothing was being hidden from him in this moment.

“T–Tyelpë! Too…close, so big!” A desperate pathetic cry and attempt for him to have mercy on you, he laughed in your face. It was rare for him to act so carefree and menacing. Opening your eyes, the tears that were built on your lashes gave a glittery effect as you looked up at him and pouted. You could barely breathe right from how suffocating his cock had you feeling at that moment. Sick to your stomach was the last feeling from how much he was splitting you open. You were enduring the burn as he pushed deeper, brushing against your cervix and sweet spot.

In response, he smirked down at you. Eyes darkened, hair falling over his shoulder to create a curtain for your private interaction and lips parts as he panted; far from his orgasm and on a mission to rip as many from you. “I’m never too big, mírë. You’re taking all of me to the hilt, but I need you to cum again for me. You can cum all over my cock for me pretty girl, hmm?”

Feeling high and confused in that moment, you were supposed to be rejecting his offer and yet your head was nodding along to his wishes.  “Hmm, yes.”

Perfect, that was all he needed to hear before rising off the table and taking you with him. Arms curled under your thighs and hands gripping your ass, you were scrambling in his hold as he bounced you up and down his cock. Your arousal dripped down his length to ease himself as he slid all the way in from tip to base; he sat you on his cock. It was impossible to escape his embrace as he moved you like a doll up and down, taking all of him and feeling the stretch greater.

The heat pooling in your stomach as the butterflies swarmed and grew was insurmountable and intense. Your toes curled and your calves burned from the cramps from the attempts at breaking the sinful stretching of his thick cock deeper in your cunt. You should be passed out; it was impossible for anyone to take such an impressive size and be conscious. It was some type of unknown torture—but a good one you would admit, being fucked by his cock was a blessing—you had to endure it as his little stress reliever.

“I can feel you’re close,” he hummed as he appeared leisured. The calm expression as he made you ride him, comforted by the trust you held to allow him this daring position, left him woozy. Eyes hazy and slithered and biting his lips as your walls fluttered endlessly around him, he smiled. You were the prettiest sight he had ever seen in such a climatic mess, hair frizzled, eyes starry, lips parted with some signs of drool and head tossed backwards. The nightgown you had worn for your visit was halfway torn on your body to leave your chest on open for him and access to your heat. The rest dangled obstructively on your tiny body, such a doll. He should start calling you ‘doll’ given your size.

Just then, your body ceases and seizes up entirely in his arms. A loud cry went off and your nails dug into his nape, emitting loud hisses. Your thighs tense and your toes curl as they hang in the air; the sensation too much for your body to contain. No matter how much you attempted to escape, you were stuck in his arms and left to endure the toe–curling orgasm washing over you while you remained seated balls–deep on his cock. Your breathing was ragged, and your body limped as your abdomen clenched and squeezed your walls to push out your arousal to give his cock another coating of white.

And so, he looked on in amusement at the artwork—he didn’t know you were an artistic painter.

Your cunt was puffy and swollen from the intense workout and yet Tyelpë refused to remove you off him. The sight was too cherishing to end when he still had the energy for more memorable moments like this. Craning his neck lower to nuzzle his face against yours, he peppered your face with light kisses before he came to your lips for a fat kiss. His lashes fluttered against your cheeks, tickling you and creating a series of restrained chuckles.

“Tyelpë!” you whined, opening your teary eyes to gaze at him. “Too sensitive…” At the cry, he felt your walls clamp down specifically harder around him to emphasise your sensitivity.

“Hmm, I may have gone overboard,” he murmured against your cheek. “I lose myself when I see how small you are compared to me, how easy you take me. Thank you.”

Tsking, you shook your head at his praises. “Is your stress relieved at least?” you asked, pensively gazing at him.

It was, however he didn’t want the session to end so soon. Not when you were still warm around him and he had yet to find his release. Meditatively devising a simple lie, his face frowned and became sullen. A melancholy expression lingered in his eyes as he roamed your face. “No,” he sighed, “I believe the worst has not been solved. Another session should satisfy me perhaps.”

Squinting at his thorough lie, you mused, “Well, you are right. You did not find relief yet.” Looking down to where you were still seated on his cock, you stared at the mess that was made and how your lips were still hugging him like a blanket. “You think another round would sedate you?”

“With the way you are looking right now, mírë, it definitely will.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[caliawen]

Haunted

Pairing = Glorfindel x Reader

Genre = Teen and up

General ratings = a twinge of angst, fluff, smut implied (?)

Content warnings = smut implied

Word count = 1,4k

Notes = ……hi 🫣 I haven’t posted in a month 🙃 Life has been really busy and I haven’t really had the time (nor the motivation, truthfully) to write. I had a more regular schedule before, but I think for now it will stay… ‘irregular’. I have no idea when or what I will post next. Hope you can understand!

Glorfindel was being haunted. Not by ghosts- no. By the memories of his past life. Of his mistakes. Of his friends. Of their deaths. Of his death. The searing pain of his scalp as he was tugged down and down and down by the Balrog. Of the heat he felt as he fought for his life, for the lives of Idril and Tuor and Eärendil and everyone. His mind replayed those moments over and over, never leaving him a second of peace.

The slight smile of Ecthelion, Rog’s boisterous laugh, Turgon’s exasperation with them, Elgalmoth’s mischievous eyes as he gossiped, Penlod’s hums as he pretended he was listening, Galdor’s excited chatter about the trees and plants he saw, Duilin’s whistles as he walked, Tuor’s love-struck expression as his eyes followed Idril and Maeglin’s shy smile when someone asked him about his work…

Oh, Maeglin… Glorfindel had hated him, for a time. Hated him for giving Gondolin away to Morgoth, giving away their lives.. But that time had passed. In the halls of Námo, Glorfindel had had plenty of time to think before he was reborn. And think he did : about how Maeglin had lost his mother and father. About how his only parental figure was Turgon, who was too busy to really spend time with his nephew. About how he mistook his love for Idril as romantic and not platonic, and how that strained his friendship with her and Tuor. About how rumors spread that Maeglin was a vile being. About how none of them did anything to defend him. About how lonely Maeglin must have been.. About what impossible horrors he felt at the hands of Morgoth and Sauron. About how they never saw how broken Maeglin had returned. About how he didn’t care if he died anymore.

Yes, Glorfindel had thought, Maeglin had done something wrong. And he forgave Maeglin for what he had done, because Maeglin had been a child. A child who needed to be guided and shown love, but no one had stepped up to take up the role.

He thought about you. About your smile, your eyes, your nose. About the way you moved, how you talked and your passions. And he ached. Because he didn’t know what happened to you. He didn’t know if you had died, if you had suffered or if you were still alive. If you had moved on from him.. And that haunted him. His every waking thought, his every dream and nightmare.

Sometimes, Glorfindel dreamed of you. He dreamed that you were laying in his bed, in Gondolin, smiling at him. That you carded your fingers through his hair and told him that you loved him. And when he woke up, his heart ached and he did not know whether to thank or curse Irmo.

Glorfindel had a mission. He was going back to Arda Marred. And he found himself dreading going back. Dreading seeing how everything had changed and how the language had evolved. Dreading how no one he knew would be there. How he would be alone. At least in Valinor, he saw his mother and father. He found himself crying when he realized he did not remember what being embraced by his parents felt like. They took care of him and he couldn’t be more grateful to have them.

When Glorfindel departed, he stood looking at Valinor until it had been long since out of view. He stood still, wondering if he was dreaming. He thought, how ironic, for he was going back. Not anyone else. Him. Laurëfindelë Glorfindel, an emissary of the Valar, granted powers nearly as strong as that of the Maiar. And he didn’t want to go back. Nienna wept for him, for his sacrifice, for his fear and for his love. He found himself appreciating her understanding. She visited him, before he departed. He listened to her words, without understanding : “Dear Child, your heart is being haunted. Your mind is playing tricks on you, and your heart is rendered blind by your pain. But your gut, your gut is still there and strong. Follow it, follow what it tells you. But do not silence your heart and mind for it, listen to them. Listen, but do not follow.”

~~~

When Glorfindel arrived in Middle Earth, he did not know where to begin. He was tired, but could not sleep. He thought about you. About your lips on his, about your laugh, about your hands in his, about the ring he had passed on your finger. He thought and thought and thought. And his heart ached. He walked on paths and in forests, stopping to wash himself in rivers. And he despaired.

It was later that he found Lindon. Days later. Or weeks, he did not know. He met Elrond, someone who would confuse and amuse him for the rest of their lives. Part man, part elf, part maia. He wore the insignias of Fingolfin and Fëanor with pride, daring anyone to confront him about it. He was a gentle soul with a heart of gold and the patience of the wise. He was as kind as summer and Glorfindel found himself basking in his presence, like a flower who had grown up in shadow feeling the sun on itself for the first time.

Círdan was surprisingly mischievous. Subtle jokes, sarcasm and deadpan looks were all things he threw at others, uncaring if they understood or not. He was calm, but could easily terrorize anyone with his anger, like the sea. Board games were his favorite and Glorfindel spent time playing with him, thinking of strategies to beat the older elf.

Gil-Galad was as confusing as he was funny. His father was unknown and he liked to joke around about it. Glorfindel spent time with him when they could, talking about everything and nothing. When Gil-Galad felt Glorfindel starting to lose himself in memories, he would randomly tell a stupid joke. They made Glorfindel laugh each time.

Celebrimbor had been a bit weary at first. Glorfindel almost laughed at the memory of a small Curufinwë Tyelpërinquar staring at him with the exact same look. It wasn’t long until they became great friends. Celebrimbor understood : he, too, was haunted by his past actions and words. Maybe for different reasons than Glorfindel, but the important thing was that he related to how Glorfindel felt. Having his feelings validated was something that alleviated the pain in Glorfindel’s heart.

~~~

Glorfindel walked around Lindon aimlessly and leisurely, taking his time to look around. You haunted him. Everything he saw reminded him of you. From pretty rocks you would have collected, passing by a stand selling your favorite fruit, to someone wearing clothes the exact color of your eyes. His mind played tricks on him, making him imagine hearing your laugh or seeing your beautiful hair swaying in the wind.

He stopped walking at a bookstore, a feeling bubbling up inside him. He looked at the door, curious. His gut screamed at him to enter that store, for some reason. His mind dismissed the feeling, but his heart held hope. They warred against each other. And then, Glorfindel was reminded of Nienna’s words to him. And he went inside the store.

Inside the store, which was cozy and homey, he felt pulled towards a particular bookshelf. His breath hitched as his mind reeled to a stop, his heart pumping wildly. There you stood, browsing the shelf while smiling. Feeling observed, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw Glorfindel, your husband, your soulmate, standing there. Glorfindel was frozen, his mind scrambling and heart singing with joy. You were the one to make the first move, throwing yourself in his arms, ecstatic. Glorfindel hugged you back, a sense of wholeness overtaking his mind and body as he kissed you long and passionately.

The two of you spent hours upon hours talking, laughing, crying and hugging. This long-awaited reunion was a balm on Glorfindel’s bruised and battered heart. That night, under the stars, in a magnificent glade full of flowers, you rekindled your fëas. Glorfindel made love to you slowly and passionately, kissing every piece of skin revealed as he undressed you, worshiping your body with his hands and mouth. That night, in your arms, Glorfindel had no nightmares. He woke up to your sweet voice and felt free. Free of the thing that haunted him. And he smiled.

End notes : Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments & likes are extremely appreciated 🫶

@theladyvanya

[lovefairymina]

Child reader - a girl, who loves to play hide and seek with other palace children and being way too good at that, stumbles one day upon Celebrimbor, dealing with particularly annoing and arrogant prick of an elf, who has troubles to suffer dwarves in the same city they live in. Reader frowns, and look at little carved fox, a gift from Celebrimbor. In the next moment, said annoying prick howled as your little sturdy boot struck their shin, nearly making him fall. "You are ugly!" you point at the prick. "He is nice!" you point at Celebrimbor. "Far nicer than you'll ever be! He has a heart of gold! I'll marry him when I grow up!" you are fuming.

“Now, now, calm down. That's no way to speak to an adult, even if you're being my little saviour,” he chuckled and led you away from the scene. Once the coast was clear, he squatted to your level and whispered, “It seems like I owe you a little treat back there for defending me. Thank you!”

[effervescentdragon]

Silvergifting Week Day Four - Bad End [@silvergiftingweek ]

Just a little ficlet that wouldn't leave my mind, of Círdan, Ereinion, and Galadriel receiving the letters from the end of my Silvergifting fanfiction Ashen-Cold , or if you will, an outside perspective on imminent doom and the reseption of three final gifts :) I also reference my other Silm fics.

-

I - Círdan

The sigh that left his lungs when he finished reading the letter that came upon the hooves of a furious horse felt like something familiar, and yet completely different than all those before.

How many times have I had to read words similar enough to these, only after the deed was done, and the dead were long gone, cold and taken away from the soil they walked upon a short time before? How many times have I received a missive, adressed in the same way, my names invoked in order of familiarity, just to be told about another one of them; of us, perishing?

Círdan knew that, if he put his mind to it, he could recall every single one. And yet, the only one that comes to mind as similarly devastating is the one he has spent millenia wishing he could forget.

"My little boy," he murmured, tears falling freely from his eyes, for he felt no shame in outwardly showing how his heart broke with every word he read. "My dearest friend," he said, because he still could not make himself say out loud what his heart bled at him to say.

Wonderful, tragic, brilliant fool.

Lalwen's dearest kin.

My son in all but blood.

Curufinwë Tyelpërinquar Curufinwion, cursed by his name and his blood and the fire that you so loved.

"You were always true and perceptive," Círdan whispered into the night and nothing. "You always saw the solution in the end, my boy, but I should know better than anyone that for matters of heart, there is no solution."

And what good is my Sight, he asked himself, when I could not foresee this?

But you did, a voice said, and it sounded like a dream almost forgotten. You did, Círdan, you old, forgetful fool. The voice laughed, and that laughter he knew, and that laughter he loved, and that laughter he will never, ever forget. You saw this from the first moment you knew of Annatar, and yet you had hope, My Lord. The voice turned soft. Never lose hope, Círdan. That is what makes you, you.

The ring fell into his hand, and it burned. Burned like Lalwen's eyes once burned with intensity, burned like Tyelpe's fevered mind burned with his inventivenes, burned like Círdan's heart burned so much, he could not feel it break properly, for the fire ate the remnants of the pieces so quickly, no ocean could soothe it.

Círdan clenched his fist around Narya, the Ring of Fire, and let it burn his hand, and let the tears burning in his eyes fall as he wept for the love of a maiden that danced in fire, and whose fire danced in the boy now irrevocably lost to him; the boy who went headfirst into battle to die for love; the boy who tried to make sure his legacy would do what he could not; but most of all, Círdan the Shipwright wept for the lovely, kind boy he once called son.

II - Ereinion Gil-Galad

"He cannot do this."

"Calm yourself, my King -"

"Don't you dare, Elrond! Don't you dare -"

He cut himself off, heaving heavily, his whole body shaking with rage. His eyes were terrible, and whomever did not know him would be terrified of the anger shining from the clear gaze of the High King of Ñoldor, Ereinion Gil-Galad.

Elrond knew him, though. He knew Ereinion better than he knew himself sometimes, and he knew to search for the pain and the sadness and the heartbreak beneath the hurricane of anger that was hid King.

He reached for Ereinion's hand, and was allowed the touch. His fist was clenched as tightly as his jaw, and the wind coming through the open windows tangled his hair, making it rise as a halo of gold. Elrond stepped closer, putting a hand on Ereinion's cheek.

"I know, my King " he whispered, and Gil-Galad breathed out, furious breath that imprinted on Elrond's cheek. "I know, my love," he said, and the wind picked up, and Ereinion's shoulders slumped, and Elrond was there to catch him when he stumbled.

Gil-Galad's arms wound around Elrond's shoulders, and his whole body shook. He didn't let himself stay in the hug for long, his whole body shaking with emotions. He stepped away, holding onto Elrond's hand with the one that wasn't clenched around the Ring Tyelpe had sent him.

"He will die, Elrond," Ereinion said, and his voice echoed the wailing of the wind horribly. "He will die, my brother will die, and for what." He snorted. "For loving an Enemy. An unworthy, despicable, servant of the Enemy."

Elrond knew not what to say. His own heart was tearing, but his King needed him, and he would always serve his King first. He would always take care of his love.

"No, I cannot - what is he thinking? What is he doing, Valar damned!" Ereinion shouted, but Elrond did not step away. He let go of Elrond's hand, scrambling to get the Ring. He raised it up, studying it.

"My brother will die, and all that I have from him is this." He looked at Elrond, and his eyes were typhoons. "Ring of Air, Vilya, the mightiest of the Three."

He swallowed and put it on, and the wind outside picked up in intensity. When he spoke, his voice was clear through the storm.

"What good is the mightiest of the Three, when it cannot save my brother?"

Elrond had no answer. He stayed silent, for they bkth knew it - there was no answer to be given.

III - Galadriel

Her hands shook as she read the letter. They did not stop shaking, not even when her husband took the letter from her, and read it, and dropped it to the floor.

"Alatáriel," Celeborn said softly. "My love, look at me, please."

She could not. She would not. He did not deserve to see her like this.

He already saw you, like this, and worse, her traitorous mind supplied. No, she answered herself. He has never seen me like this. I was never like this. Never had he seen me like I am now.

"Alatàriel," he said softly, and oh, how she loved him. How unworthy she still felt of such tenderness. How small. How tainted.

"No." She said, and her voice was the echo of the rain falling down on the leaves of Lórien, every drop bruising them irreparably. "No, my love, you are mistaken."

His hands holding hers were warm, but she felt the damp cold spread through her body. She thought her eyes may be filled with tears, but she minded not. She had seen through snowstorms of Helcaraxë; her own tears meant nothing to her eyesight. When she raised her head, he did not flinch.

I thought I could not love you more, she thought. I am glad to be mistaken this time.

"I am not Alatáriel, Celeborn, my Lord and love," she said, and the rain outside their falas sounded like a thunderstorm. She clasped his hands firmly, then let go, and looked into his face, and prayed to those who have long forsaken her to let him hold true.

She picked up the Ring from her lap, and her tears fell unbidden, and the rain upon their realm fell heavy like stones.

"I am Galadriel of Lothlorien, the mistress of the Ring of Water, Nenya, gifted to me by my kin, a Finwean and a Kinslayer."

The rain fell loudly, deafeningly.

"The Enemy will destroy what is mine by blood and heart, and I, Artanis Nerwen Arafinwiel," she said, and lightning struck the sky, illuminating the wrath in her mien. "I will destroy the Enemy."

The silence lasted for only a moment, and then thunder struck, shaking the core of the earth. She waited, tall and proud nís of the House of Finwe once more, and always and forever.

Celeborn took her hands in his again, amd kissed her knuckles.

"And I stand by you, my Lady Artanis, always" he said, easily and honestly, and when she let out a sob, he pulled her close and held her as her wrath and pain and heartbreak washed away in the river of her tears.

[tilions]

oh i'd love to hear about aiwe!!

Yaayy!! So glad you asked about her because she's probably one of my oldest Silmarillion OCs! I made her all the way back in 2017 when I wanted to give Celebrimbor's mom a face and a backstory.

Also this became waaay longer than expected because I just ended up writing down her entire story as I have thought it out until now. I hope you don't mind reading :)

First off all, to up the angst potential for her character I have to clarify that Aiwë is, in fact, one of the Teleri.

She is the oldest child and only daughter of the best Silversmith in Alqualondë, Thulwë. Due to her father's reputation and talent he attracts people from all over Valinor and especially from amongst the Noldor who wish to study under him - Fëanor has learned from him in his youth for a while, and Curufin, ever eager to follow in his father's footsteps, also goes to Alqualondë for a few years to learn from Thulwë.

Aiwë herself also learned from her father but was never really interested in forging. To be honest she can't really stand the heat and prefers to wander around the endless beaches of Valinor that are only barely or not at all illuminated by the two trees. She always goes out there to look for pretty seashells and stones from which she then makes jewelry. When she is in the mood she combines the two things. She also really and I mean really loves boating. One of her uncles gifted her a small boat when she reached adulthood and since then she sets out into the sea regularly, where she ends up spending hours just stargazing.

She is the older of her parents two children, her much younger brother is named Eärillo and he becomes a guard for the royal family (but only after the kinslaying as he is still adolescent during that time). She loves her family very much and would do anything for them.

Now Curufin. As I mentioned he went to study under her father for a few years as well and had a bit of a hard time proving himself worthy. Thulwë mostly teaches the art of jewelry making and Curufin has more of a knack for making practical rather than pretty things - such as hunting knives for Celegorm or new chisels for his mother. Let's just say he had a hard time trying to make very delicate hairpins...

Interestingly enough, they don't meet up until the second year into Curufin's apprenticeship because Aiwë was away with her mother to help out a cousin who had married into a Vanyarin family and just had their first child. They meet at one of Aiwë's favourite seashell collection spots. Thulwë had sent his students off to go and find inspiration for their next piece and Curufin just had wandered around aimlessly until he had found himself at the beach. Now he sits there and looks at a few seashells he collected, when Aiwë approaches him and asks if he came here to collect seashells as well. Just please imagine the most adorable meet-cute and following courtship imaginable, alright? These two start off INCREDIBLY cute and happy. Also he gives her his final and best project that he made under Thulwë's tutelage as a betrothal gift.

Long story short they get married with both of their families blessings after a proper courtship. It's the first wedding of any of Fiwnë's grandchild and therefore very grand. Half of Valinor is invited and the rest is coming anyway.

Aiwë goes to live with Curufin to Tirion, although they do go back to Alqualondë regularly because Aiwë misses the sea and Curufin finds it rather calming to sit at the beach and just watch his wife. He loves her very much, ok? They have Celebrimbor a few years later and she names him Tyelpërinquar because she has a vision of him forging rings of magnificent beauty and power. Out of her brother-in-laws she gets along best with the twins because they remind her of her own little brothers. She also likes to sit with Caranthir and later his wife when they do embroidery.

She also goes with Curufin to Beleriand but mostly for Celebrimbor's sake who is still a child and doesn't want to be parted from his father's family - even though said family just slaughtered his mother's kin. She has a more distant relationship towards Curufin for the following centuries but he actually really tries to make things better again. The only high their relationship ever reaches again in the first age is in the first year of them staying in Nargothrond which is also when they have their second child. Aracundo. Both of them actually believed that things could get like they were before again… and then the Lúthien incident happened and Aiwë broke away from her husband in fear of his greed. She takes Aracundo, still a child, and also Celebrimbor after Curufin and Celegorm get chased out of Nargothrond and leaves with them and enters the service of Cirdan and later Gil-Galad.

She doesn't see her husband again but hears of his death and the horrors of the second kinslaying from Oropher and Thranduil, who bring with them princess Elwing and the Silmaril. There is a moment where Aiwë sees that stone and has to resist the urge to prey it from Elwing's small hands and toss as far away into the sea as she can. She does mourn Curufin and what could have been if the oath never happened for a little while.

She meets her brother and father again when the host of the West arrives in Beleriand because both Thulwë and Eärillo volunteered to help sail the army across the sea. It's the first time she actually feels happy again - not that she wasn't happy when Aracundo was born… but that was a different kind of happiness one mingled with at least a little bit of grief. This now is genuine happiness.

(Celebrimbor doesn't remember his grandfather at all, even though he should've been old enough when they left Valinor, nor does he remember his uncle who is just a few years older than him and greets him like an old friend. Aracundo is just happy to know that not all of his family consists of mass murderers and he gets to challenge his grandfather in a game of chess which is nice.)

Aiwë is offered to return home with her father and brother once the war ends but declines the offer. She wishes to remain for a hit longer and help rebuild before she finally sails. She also wants to see that her children are happy and settled in.

She stays with her younger son at the High King's court until the two (Aracundo and Ereinion) get married, then she moves to Eregion to be with Celebrimbor for a while. She is wary of Annatar but doesn't voice her concern. It fills her with joy when the day arrives on which she sees the vision she had after Celebrimbor's birth come true. When Eregion falls and Celebrimbor dies she is there but manages to escape with Galadriel and Celebrían.

She sails not long after.

[saecookie]

If you don't mind Curufin/Glorfindel and You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath Sacred prayer and we'd swear to remember it all too well. Or if that's too long just the first part :)

How glad i was to see you in my asks dear! I had an absolute blast on writing this one, I hope you'll like it!

prompt me please!

Laurefindelë’s always known him all too well.

(Why he is thinking of him, after all these years, after all this distance, is lost to him.)

(Lost, like he did Laure.)

He would know him in his child, Curufinwë thinks. He would know him in these cheeks, in this severe brow, in those eyes already shining and curious.

Curufinwë Atarincë Fëanárion’s son looks awfully like him, already. He raises his eyes to meet his partner’s; he wished for his son to bear more of her on his face. Her dimples, the darkness of her skin, the gold on her temples. But once again, the line of his father stays with his blood.

If Curufinwë was any less than he is, he’d hope that the fëanàro would not follow. But Curufinwë has never been an optimistic man.

He looks down at his son again, awaiting for a name, a name from a father he’s not sure he should be, a man whose own father gifted him with a name more akin to a path to follow, a prophecy taking him in at night. An oath, like his father liked to profess.

Curufinwë Atarincë Fëanárion is not a kind nér, but he knows the plague of a fathername (he will vow pride and reverence upon his own; he shan’t cast the same fate to his own blood).

From his grandfather to his father to himself, a name followed them. Curufinwë is not gifted with the same prescience his kind could, he has for himself only sheer willpower to fulfill himself. 

His child (his only child).

His blood. His line.

Curufinwë hasn’t been kind to love, to those who called him and called to him. Laurefindelë’s always known him too well, he kept him like an oath; and Atarincë who never wanted to take an oath again kept him like a secret.

And lost it; his only secret.

He swore, then, to remember him all too well. His own secret, his own pledge.

Nelyafinwë is the first to come upon his chambers and gaze at the first child of their house since Ambarussa were brought upon them.

“How shall I send word, háno, of the young one?” was the question he asked, regal still despite his gladsome air.

“I named him Tyelpërinquar.” He did not add a word nor an explanation.

“He will be your pride, like you were atar’s.”

Yet Curufinwë has long since banished his father from his thoughts, for this pledge he’s taken will be the last. Not toward his blood, but toward his light.

His very own oath.

[grimwcr]

LOTR PHOTOSET 1/?

                Tyelpërinquar, Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, son of Curufinwë

[silvcrweaver]

        INDEPENDENT & SELECTIVE TOLKIEN OC     TYELPËVAIRË,  DAUGHTER OF TYELPËRINQUAR

        WRITTEN BY TASHA, 27.

[lovefairymina]

As they are walking through the garden, Celebrimbor finds himself a bit curious and puzzled because of his partner's actions. It started when they turned to hug him and after that they kept on looking onto the side avoiding eye contact from the elf beside them. Celebrimbor can't help but feel embarrassed and insecure thinking that his unprepared look might be the reason and they must feel ashamed.

"Forgive me for my unpreparedness for the situation mirë. I am fully absorbed with my work that I forgot the plans that we have to day" Celebrimbor tried to explain

Sensing his dismay, they panicked and instantly turned to him, they cleared their throat, held both of his biceps (that is much bigger than their hands mwehehe 🤤) and basically forced him to look at them

"No don't, don't say that.. I'm sorry if my action seemed like I was being uncomfortable but oh, my love I love every part of you right now.. In fact the reason I was feeling embarrassed was because I like the way you look messy and uhm I also like your natural scent" as they kept on kept on rambling

Celebrimbor felt a bit flustered and was shocked because they liked them even though he is full of soots and probably smell like sweat and someone who rolled onto some dirt.

He grew silent as though he was contemplating his following words. You managed to find his untidiness attractive which was a first. Not many people would, yet here you did. Clearing his throat before returning to the walk, he spoke up. “I would admit, you caught me off guard with your confession. I wasn't expecting you to appreciate my... unclean state. Now I know not to be embarrassed since you have no issue with it.”

[lovefairymina]

Tyelpe! Let me down! Ack- at least don’t carry me like a sack of potatoes! Where are you even taking me?

“It is a secret! For you will see when we get there!” he beamed while jogging up a hill. Your body seemed to bounce in tune with his jogging, causing you to sound as though you were babbling and stammering. At the top of the hill, unbeknownst to you, awaited dinner for two as the sunsetted and twilight approached.

[lovefairymina]

"Hey tyelpe, I saw you skipping dinner earlier. here I brought you some food, hope you don't mind it," y/n give the tray full of meals and a folded paper with a sketch of his face inside of it tucked under the plate.

"And oh! No need to be thank you, its always a pleasure to helping my best friend after all!" y/n smile

Accepting the tray from you gingerly, he returned a tender smile that spoke a thousand unsaid words he wished he could express vocally. “Whether you wish I said it or didn't, thank you mellon-nîn. I am grateful for your existence. You're the one person keeping me after all meal skipping I do,” he laughed.

[lovefairymina]

*Y/N listens to the sound of tinkering in the forges while she approaches with some lunch, knowing that she will find Tyelpe hard at work*

Y/N: Tyelpe, beloved, come have some- *blinks, wide-eyed and blushes, letting out a squeak of embarassment at the angry red scratch marks she left on Tyelpe's back from last night that are not covered by the apron*

Notified of your sudden squeak and presence, he spun around with his hammer in hand, ready to throw it at the perpetrator causing your discomfort. Instead, he was met with a flustered lover standing with their hand covering their mouth and widened eyes while caring a tray of treats. “Mírë, is everything alright? Why do you appear shocked?”

[lovefairymina]

Already bored from reading, she stood up and look around her husband's workshop looking for something he recently made that she haven't seen yet. They are both too busy with Celebrimbor spending his time smithing when he's on a break from his lord duties, she went in his room initially with a plan to eat with him and now she finds herself in awe with one of his new creation, she touched it and released a small yelp after feeling the hot metal in contact with her skin. Celebrimbor turned around a bit worried and curious on what happened to her.

"Is there something wrong mirë?"

She smiled hiding her pain with her injured hands behind her back attempting to hide it from him. "Nothing dear, I almost dropped something"

He hummed in response he turned around towards his work, he looked like he's in deep thoughts and turned towards her once again, walking towards where she is, looking at something behind her back. She stepped on the side thinking he's going to take something important on the shelf behind but to her surprise he took her injured hand and looked at her with disappointment.

“You're not a sneak master when it comes hiding your injuries from me, mírë,” the musky-scented male whispered while inspecting your fingers. They were undergoing shades of red before settling on the brightest shade to signal your pain. Guiding you across the forge, he arrived to a basin of cool water where he dipped your fingers into. “Do not fret, it happened to me many times ”

[lovefairymina]

(might be a little insight for whats to come)

Celebrimbor: *just hanging around near The entrance of Nargothrond*

Gwindor: So, (Name), eh?

Celebrimbor: Hmm?

Gwindor: Out of all elven maidens in the kingdom, you have given your heart to The little lone Wolf (Name).

Celebrimbor: I do not mean any harm to her, my lord. I would not even imagine laying a harmful finger on your ward.

Gwindor: Its fine. Im actually glad. You are The reason she now comes inside more often than sleep outside and controls her self destructive habbits. That child of Hurin doesnt believe she's deserving of love, so if you can break her out of that shell. You have my full support.

Gwindor: I am curious thought. What did she do to make you fall for her?

You: *arrive throught Gate*

You: Celebrimbor! Look at this white jewel I found. It might not compare to the high quality jewels and stones on your forge, but it reminded me of your silver eyes, so I thought you might like it.

“Would you like me to craft something using this gem? I have a few ideas you can use; I'll assist you since I'm aware how adamant you are when it comes to making jewellery of lately,” he offered, paying no mind to the gemstone in your hands, but rather the beauty of your presence.

[lovefairymina]

Tyelpë, what are you making? You've been spending so much time in the forges lately - wait, why are you hiding what you're making from me? I want to see! Please?

“You are far too short in the state you currently stand at, mírë. I'm afraid you will only be able to see it when you have gained a couple extra inches.” Face smug, and riddled in laughter, he twisted and turned in accordance to you, all in the attempt at hiding the box in hand.

[lovefairymina]

Tyelpë: Aren't you bored, míré? You're just sitting there, ding nothing while watching me smith away.

Me: *leans forward and rests my head on my arms* I'd rather sit and do nothing with you than do anything with anyone else.

Reaching out and bumping your nose with the tip of his quill, he came back with a charmed remark, “You are being too cheesy with your words, mírë, but I thank you. They are heartwarming and a reassurance that I do not bore you.”