#we almost always bring sauron into it

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away, towards the lands of the enemy.

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞

When orcs cross your lands you choose survival. After that you choose selfish desire which makes for a nice turn of events.

WC: 2.2k

Part one of the Lets make Adar a dad fic

Waldreg was a rat, always had been.

But nowadays, with evil lurking he was making quite the points to assure survival. 

After Bronwyn gave her speech about fighting and Waldreg had countered it with bowing down for survival you had followed him out of the gates of Ostirith, and during the night, bowed down before your enemy.

Before you, Waldreg made a speech of loyalty but was ignored by the orcs' leader.

Ignored until he had called him Sauron. 

You watched Waldreg be grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground, still offering loyalty to whoever the man before you all might be.

Again he was ignored, as the man took Rowan who stood right before you and was dragged to face the crowd, forced to kneel as the orc leader tossed a dagger at Waldreg's chest. Finally speaking.

"Only blood can bind." 

Before your eyes, in the torch lit town you watched as Waldreg did as instructed, and killed your friend to pledge his loyalty.

Next thing you knew you were following along with orders, listening to Adar give his speech to the Uruks he called his childen. Abd then trying to hide from your now enemies, praying the Uruks recognised you as their ally.

Only the Uruks weren't the biggest of your worries as another troop came in on horseback to aid the oposing forces.

So you hid with the remainder of the troop that managed to escape. You hid in the woods until the ground shook and fire rained from the sky and by the time the enemy fled you were back with Adar and the others and the start of building a new home was done.

The Southlands were no longer, from now on you were citizens of Mordor.

Scouts were sent off and remaining troops arrived with all belongings, ready to build.

But first it was time for celebration.

Uruks howled and feasted on fallen soldiers, even offering you some meat but you politely declined. 

Instead you found the other humans, all getting drunk off whatever survived the onslaught. So you moved on from them too, not feeling like drinking after all that happened. Your last stop was somewhere off at the edge of the town's remains where you stared at the smouldering ashes and low dancing flames on the edge of dying out.

That too didn't bring your mind peace and quiet, so you moved on again. Wandering around until you almost ran into someone after turning a corner. 

"Not of the celebrating kind, child?" Adar himself stood before you, two mugs in hand. He offered one to you as he went to sit on some fallen support beams.

"I'm not really one for getting drunk or feasting on my enemies' flesh, no." You joined his side and sat down. "Don't take me wrong, I am glad your Uruks have a home now." Your words ended with a smile, buried behind the drink. It was bad how you wanted to stare at the man for as long as you could. You had wanted it since you first watched him throw Wardreg and had Rowan killed. No one should look that good doing all of that.

"You know your eyes speak enough. No need to hide, I can read you." His gloved hand raised to lower your mug.

"This is good, what is it?" You tried your best to change the topic of conversation with a genuine question.

"A simple Uruk made red wine the last group brought in. Is it that different from what you served here?" He gestured to the tavern that you sat behind and looked at you with a curious look. 

"It's so nice and warm." It brought you comfort so you sipped away at it, the nerves of everything happening today finally leaving you. "So strange, it's so much nicer than ours." 

This time it was Adar changing the topic again. "Shall we go join the others? Surely you'd warm up to my children quicker that way." His offer was a kind one, filled with elven charm he still possesed even after becoming what he was now. 

"I think I prefer the less chaotic energy here, in all honesty. Being able to talk and drink wine, it's nice." 

And it was nice, even Adar agreed. Now that he and his children had a home there was no need for endless planning and strategizing to keep him busy anymore. 

"I admit, you are right. Having a quiet conversation just for the pleasure of it is something I have not done in a long while." He watched you place your mug down, impressed with how quickly you had downed the wine for a mere mortal who claimed not caring about getting drunk. 

You placed the mug down and thanked the wine for silencing the voice in your head as you sat straight up and murmured something. Adar didn't catch what it was, and questioned you about it.

"I said," With a swift move you flung your leg over his lap and straddled him. "There is probably other things that you have not done for pleasure in a very long time." 

Adar followed your quick movements with ease, hus gloved hand ending on your hip. Metal digging into your skin to steady you as his other hand came up to rest at your jaw.

Your actions intrigued him. "You assume right." His gloved hand sqeezed a bit harder, making you squirm in his lap as the sharp edges pressed deeper against your bones. "Now, what did you have in mind now that you have sat yourself so selfishly onto my lap?" He wasn't actively moving you off him so you took your chances to move along, inching closer to his face and pressing a swift peck to his jawline before nuzzling his neck. 

You only got a confused grunt in response, which had you decide to think more as an Uruk, and bite down on his flesh and grind your hips against his. It earned you a low growl and a sharp pull of your hair that disconnected your lips from his throat. 

"You wish to be rough, little mortal?" His gaze changed into an amused grin, taking your hip and shoulder in hand as he manouvered you onto your back, legs still over his as he moved himself atop of you. 

His legs on either side of the fallen structure with your hips pulled up against his, a sharp metal hand pressing into the soft plump of your cheeks prying open your jaw to push a finger past your lips. 

His ungloved hand went to find the ends of your garment and tear it off your lower half, exposing you to the night air while you struggled to move against the iron grasp on your jaw and the metal digging into your tongue.

"How good of you, to wet your master's fingers for him.." His lips barely an inch from your ear, returning the act of biting down on your earlobe with a soft growl and licking the sensitive flesh. 

You mewled as his gloved hand left your face, sharp fingertips dragging down over your clothed torso as he sat back up, untill it reached bare skin. You gasped as he continued south, two fingers moving just off your centre, pulling a soft plea from you. "P.. please, no.."

 He watched in amusement as he pressed the flats of his fingers against your mound, just the leather of his glove on your skin. He drank in the fear that mixed with your arousal, adding to his own fire and exposing you further, leaving your body bare to see for anyone who'd wander past.

You could feel his hard length press against you as he rutted his hips against you, his hands toying with your chest making you moan out in pleasure. 

He groaned in return, moving to undo his trousers and free his cock, wetting it with your slick. 

"It's been long since I have felt this warmth." He breathed out, postitioning his tip at your entrance. You whined with every inch of his length stretching you open, wrapping your legs around his waist as best as you could. The sounds of the Uruks ans men partying drowned out more with each roll of Adar's hips, forcing a moaned breath out of you each time. 

He stilled as he bottomed out, hips slotted with yours in a near perfect matter. Leaning forward on his hands his hair framed his face, lust blown eyes staring deep into yours. There was a slight pant in his breath. "I will keep you." His gloved hand moved to your chest, metal fingers toying with your nipple making you whine out. "Y.. yes Lord Father.." Pain and pleasure mixed in the best way. "You are mine to seek pleasure with howevever I wish." 

Your hands moves to clas at his thighs in an attempt to make him move. "My body belongs to you, Lord Father." 

Your words spurred him on and with a hand on your hip he started moving, cock leaving you almost fully before thrusting back in and setting a steady pace. 

Cries of pleasure filled the ashen air, groans and pleased grunts joining the choir behind the tavern. "L..lord Father.. Adar.." Your voice was barely abouve a whisper. " your hand found his hair, fingers scratching his scalp. "Plant your seed.. Use me to continue your bloodline." 

His thrusts became more harsh, forcing a gasp from you each time his hips came in contact with yours. "Would you.. truly give up your body.. like that?" He panted between breaths, he hadn't bred in Ages, not feeling the need to produce more offspring. The concept of having a family of his own beside his Uruk children was foreign to him. 

"Please.." You pulled him in closer with your heels pressed into his back, moaning as his cock hit just right inside you.

"Make me a mother." 

Adar's hips stilled entirely as he looked down on you, a grin spread wide on his faceas he lifted his gloved hand and brought a fingertip down below your chest hard enough to break skin. You could not see what he did, only feel the carving of flesh obscured by the plump of your breast.

He did not speak, nor try to show you. Instead resumed his rough pace as if nothing had happened.

"You will bear my children, yes? For as long as I please. Until your body is no longer fit to carry offspring." His raspy voice was right at your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin on your neck as he bred you. 

"Ahh..Adar.. hah.." Your moans increased the closer you got to the edge. They were music to Adar's ears.

Not like the animalistic howls and roars of thr Uruks he had gotten so accustomed to. No, your sounds were addicting. 

Your hand found his ungloved one, guiding it between your legs to press two fingers down on your clit, silently begging him to pull you over the edge. On contact you cried out, pleading over and over until the coil snapped and you came, walls clamping down on his cock in extacy.

With no chance to catch your breath your cries turned into begging for rest, a moment to come down but instead Adar kept playing with your clit, fucking into you at the perfect angle that hit every right spot inside of you. The display amused him, filing it all away for if he ever found himself alone and in need of relief.

Before you he panted, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. His tongue rolled out past his smiling lips, a string of drool lowering and disconnecting from the tip of his tongue, dripping down right above your core. His already slick fingers gathered it and spread it all over where his cock disappeared into your folds. 

It reminded you that you weren't producing a child with an elf. You were being bred by an Uruk. 

Adar's growls and sighs got more frequent along with his thrusts becoming less rythmic. He was as close as you were again.

His hinistrations continued, fingers dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock stroked thr spot that had you see stars from the inside. 

You threw your head back with one last gut wrenching moan, squeezing your walls around his cock once more and pulling him over the edge with you. With a low growled moan he spilled deep within your womb, stilling to catch his breath.

As he tucked himself back into his trousers he watched your close to unconsious form, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

In your current state you could no longer register the Uruks that had gathered because of the noise, watching their Adar who mated with one of the new women. 

He was unsure how long they had been there or how much they saw, but from the howls and cheers he figured they had seen enough. 

With a glare in their direction, Adar sent away his children and covered your bare skin to the best of his abilities. You needed a new set of clothes. 

With you wrapped in his arms he set off to find a place for you to sleep while he sent others on a hunt for clothes. 

[buffyfan145]

Another great episode with ep 2.6 of "Rings of Power" today!!! 😀 So much happened in it and we only have 2 more episodes!!! Lots to talk about behind the cut but I think I figured out the whole "who Galadriel is kissing" thing and it's not any of the "leaks" we saw as I think the promo for next week showed part of it but something I wondered about when I first heard Morfydd say it. 😏 Also I loved hearing Elendil's dad Amandil being mentioned as I always loved his name is so similar to mine. LOL

I loved the episode and so much happened!!! All of Sauron's scenes were amazing, as well as Celebrimbor's. Both Charlies brought it again and I feel so bad for Celebrimbor. We all what's going and it's so sad. Then seeing Sauron use more of his Maiar powers and doing what we call the mind palace manipulating to Celebrimbor. And him saying the world "precious" twice!!! Then also seeing Sauron with the dwarves and likely calling up the balrog, and then the siege starting. We also finally got to see Charlie Rich too playing one of the elves.

Then everything with Galadriel and Adar was great too!!! 😀 I loved their conversations about Sauron and how Adar figured out Halbrand was Sauron. Also he knows Galadriel lied to him about what Sauron offered her too. I'm curious how he thinks combing Morgoth's crown (which I didn't expect as that does go a bit against the books as Morgoth has that crown around his neck in the Void keeping him there) with Nenya will kill Sauron for good. We know that won't happen and that Sauron actually still didn't die when Frodo destroyed the ring, as he's still out there in Middle Earth as a formless spirit. So curious again how this is going to play out in the finale with Galadriel and Sauron as she won't kill him.

Then that brings me to the kiss that's coming for Galadriel and seeing the promo for next week's ep I do think it's Celebrimbor. There's part of the promo where she's with him in his forge and she's holding his face kneeling beside him on the floor. I think this is likely when he's dying and it's making me wonder if she tries to save him via a kiss, like she did with Gandalf in "The Hobbit" movies, but it doesn't work and he dies in her arms. The thing with the banner happens after his death with the orcs so it's possible this is how he dies, and if the show got the rights to that 1st Age story about how Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel but she fell in love with Celeborn they could work that in too that she's with him when he dies. I can see them doing this and his death is tragic already but I also wouldn't mind if when he does die she's with him so he's not alone. So all those "leaks" about the kiss are likely all false if this is really what happens, and I'm totally ok with this as even being a Haladriel shipper I didn't think they'd go that far with a kiss this early in the show (though I can tell they've confirmed they both have feelings for each other) and the whole thing with Elrond are lies made up to make us shippers angry. We'll see if I'm right but I do believe this likely is what is happening.

Back to kisses the Poppy and Merimac one was cute. And I thought Elendil and Mirel were going to 3 times. LOL 😀 The whole Numenor storylines this episode was great!!! I loved Miriel was able to prove she's still queen and it extends the whole Faithfull vs The King's Men more as we've got a ways to go before Sauron gets there hopefully back in his Halbrand form. But now Ar-Pharazon knows that Halbrand is Sauron and he needs him!!! Also, loved how Elendil was looking very much like Aragorn and even Halbrand in this episode.

Even more convinced The Stranger is Gandalf after his talk with Tom Bombadil and the thing he said to him that is almost exactly what Gandalf said in the movies. I do think The Stranger/Gandalf is going to go save Nori, Poppy, and the stoors and that's likely when we find out his name is Gandalf. Curious if he'll face the Dark Wizard (who is likely a Blue wizard) this season or if that will be next.

So excited for the final 2 episodes of season 2!!! Though I know the 2 year wait will be coming after that. Also looking forward to those scenes of Adar and Elrond next week that were in the trailer too.

[glitteringaglarond]

Hope is a theme that runs throughout the story of The Lord of the Rings. You can no more remove Tolkien's themes and ideas about Hope than you could remove the Ring itself. It is always there, echoing silently at the edge of words, shimmering faintly in the darkness; and when it is absent a point is made to emphasize that very fact.

In the two "sections" of the book - one that focuses on Frodo and Sam and one that focuses on everybody else - we see the different ways that Hope is addressed. The story of Frodo and Sam shows what happens when Hope slowly ebbs away, leaving nothing but sheer, raw, heartbreaking determination behind - or in the case of Frodo, a person so broken that nothing can heal him.

But in the other section - the one that focuses on the rest of the Company and on Rohan and Gondor - Hope takes a slightly different form. Instead of being a story of the loss of Hope, it is the story of the restoration of Hope. Or more specifically, the Hope that certain characters can and do bring to the story, and to the people around them. And tragically, what will happen when certain characters cannot and will not Hope, and instead give way to Despair. And that's the Hope that I want to talk about.

In Sindarin there are two words for Hope: Estel, which is Hope based on Faith, and Amdir, which is Hope based on Proof. Aragorn, the heir of Kings, is undoubtedly the personification of Estel in the story. That is literally one of his many, many, many names. And I argue that Faramir, the heir of Stewards, is the personification of Amdir. Yes there are other characters that also embody Estel and Amdir - Gandalf and Imrahil spring to mind, but I mainly want to focus on Aragorn and Faramir. And I want to focus on how Estel vs Amdir has a profound impact on Despair.

Almost from the moment that Gandalf falls, Aragorn steps into his role as Estel. It is explicitly stated time and time again in the text that Aragorn brings hope with him wherever he goes. But the Hope of Aragorn is the one that you must have faith in, which means that it is a Hope that cannot always be physically there. To all appearances, Hope must abandon the people who need it most in order to shine out bright and triumphantly when most needed. And so Estel departs, and the people must have faith that Hope will return or give in to Despair.

Faramir, on the other hand, is a different kind of Hope. Gondor has been at war with Sauron for centuries. There is no single man, woman, or child in Gondor who has ever known peace without the threat of war and violence looming within sight of their very city. They are a people who can no longer afford to have faith in Hope. Their Hope must be based on Proof, and that is exactly what they have in Faramir, and is likely a role shared by Boromir before he departed and fell. So Faramir proves himself, day in and day out. He proves himself a man of wisdom, a man of courage, a man who all his people can depend on. He proves himself to be willing to ride against a flying Nazgul on the off chance he can help his men - and the Hope he inspires is so great that even his horse will not turn aside when that is his purpose. And yet, when the situation is at its most dire, Amdir falls. And now the People have nothing.

And Despair, as the antithesis of Hope, is an important element in a discussion about Hope. So first let's talk about the antithesis of Estel: Denethor.

Denethor, who in a sense is the personification of his people, has been leading a steadily weakening people for years, fighting a war that has been going on for centuries. He does not have the luxury to Hope, and he certainly doesn't have the luxury for a Hope that you have to have faith in. Faith died long ago, and all that is left is what meager Hope can be pulled from the daily grind, from the blood and sweat and tears of the men who fight in this war. All that is left is Amdir - and Denethor's relationship with Amdir is famously strained.

But Denethor struggles on. He continues on when Boromir falls, despair beginning to cloud his judgement as he is overwhelmed by grief. But it is only when Faramir falls in battle - when Amdir is seemingly lost, that he has no Hope left. And so in Despair he turns to the Palantir and is literally given a glimpse of Estel. But Faith died long ago, so he doesn't see the Hope that he must have Faith to see. And thus his Despair gives way to madness.

And in his madness, he nearly destroys what remains of Amdir.

But Estel has come, even if Denethor did not have the necessary Faith to see it. And what it is that can restore Hope when there is no longer any proof for it? What can restore Amdir? Who can restore Faramir? Estel can - the healing hands of the King.

Estel and Amdir, the King and his Steward - the two go hand in hand. The people of Gondor want to believe in their King, but they do believe in the Stewards that have ruled them for centuries. So is it a wonder that the people's ability to have faith in Hope is only restored when Estel restores Amdir?

But there is one other character, intrinsically linked with Faramir and Aragorn, to whom the themes Hope and Despair are poignantly evident: Eowyn.

Like Denethor, Estel is what pushes her over the edge and into a desire for death. When Estel cannot manage to give her any hope for a future and leaves her behind to a bleak present, she loses all hope. But unlike Denethor, Estel was the only hope she had. So when she lost her faith in Hope she had nothing to fall back on to. When she lost her faith in Hope, she did not have years and years of Hope based on proof to depend on. Instead she is pushed to the same level of desperation that led to Denethor's despair and madness.

Like Denethor, Eowyn sought to die - possibly with those she loved beside her, although that is not made explicit. Like Denethor, the intervention of Hobbits saved her life. Unlike Denethor, she did not get the chance to try again. And now, after failing even at her own death, with Estel saying that he cannot restore her from her Despair, (literally saying that he can recall her from the dark valley, but if she awakes to despair she will die unless some other healing comes that he cannot bring), Eowyn finally meets Amdir. She finally meets the kind of Hope that her bitter, depressed, desperate soul can depend on. And Faramir, with the Hope of Amdir, is able to heal her the way Estel could not.

And once Estel restores Amdir, Amdir can bring about the kind of healing that Estel cannot. After all, Hope that you must have faith in is only powerful when people have Faith. And sometimes that is not possible. Sometimes Hope needs to prove itself to a person before they can accept the nebulousness of Faith.

When Estel restores Amdir and Amdir, in turn, restores Faith - the people now have the faith needed for Estel's true return.

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Gil-galad blaming Galadriel so entirely really annoys me:

She's not the reason Sauron lives. She's part of the reason he's back in Middle Earth, but he was already alive. Unless, I guess, you think the wound he got that made her bring him to Eregion would have actually killed him, but I don't think it would have.

Yes, if she had listened to the king, she wouldn't have met "Halbrand." But she didn't know what Gil-galad foresaw. She may very well have made the same decisions knowing that Gil-galad had predicted she would bring Sauron back if she kept hunting him. However, she didn't know, and it's not right to judge her as though she knew the whole story.

There's something to be said about Gil-galad's own pride, thinking that by trying to avoid his prophecy, he could eliminate the threat. But as anyone who has studied mythology knows, when you try to prevent a prophecy from coming to pass, you almost always set it in motion. If he hadn't put her on the ship to Valinor, she wouldn't have been anywhere near the raft. Maybe Sauron would have found a way back anyway: we don't know. But Gil-galad played a role in how things turned out, too.

And finally, Sauron is a master manipulator. They all, even Gil-galad, were in the same room as Sauron, and no one realized who he was. Yes, Galadriel was tricked by him, but she eventually realized the truth. Gil-galad and Elrond didn't realize who Halbrand was until Galadriel told them. And Elrond wasn't suspicious until he pulled Galadriel out of the river.

[starspray]

Power & Desire: The Silmarils vs The One Ring

Can also be read on the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild

Every so often I see discussions in fandom about the Silmarils and the One Ring that end up equating them—treating them as though they are direct parallels to one another. This always happens by way of bringing the Silmarils down to the level of the Ring, often treating characters’ refusal to surrender the one Beren and Lúthien retrieved as the result of the same kind of corrosive possessiveness that the Ring induces, which renders its bearer literally unable to give it up willingly or destroy it.* This reading is not just wrong, it undermines the agency of the characters involved and undercuts the tragedy of The Silmarillion. The Silmarils and the One Ring are made by very different characters for very different purposes. They also act in the narratives of their respective stories very differently.

What do the Silmarils and the Ring have in common? They are both the titular objects of their respective books around which the major plot turns, it is true. They are both made by powerful individuals, and are desired by many different people, and when they are lost and/or stolen their makers are desperate to retrieve them. Characters die for them, and kill for them. At this extremely surface level reading they do, indeed, seem very similar. But the deeper you look at each object the more glaring differences show themselves, until you realize that they do not parallel, but rather oppose each other.

Due to the nature of each narrative it’s much easier to see the full nature of the Ring and the effect it has on people around it. It is an object created explicitly for evil and malicious purposes: One Ring to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them. Sauron makes it so that he can ensnare all others who hold rings of power, “for he made that Ring himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again, wherever they be, even the Three…”

The way the Ring works is that it sneaks into the bearer’s mind and starts to twist their thoughts to its own purposes. It wants to be used, and it wants to isolate its bearer. It makes itself desirable so that its bearer will do all kinds of mental gymnastics to justify the means by which to take and keep it. See Gollum’s insistence on his “birthday present.” See Bilbo’s tale of winning it in the riddle game. At the Council of Elrond he says: “But I will now tell the true story, and if some here have heard me tell it otherwise”—he looked slidelong at Glóin—“I ask them to forget it and forgive me. I only wished to claim the treasure as my very own in those days, and to be rid of the name of thief that was put on me. But perhaps I understand things a little better now” (emphasis mine).

You can see it in Isildur, too. The films misrepresent this scene: Elrond says nothing of dragging Isildur up Mount Doom to try to get him to destroy the Ring; he says that “whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it” but at that time there is no way anyone present could know what kind of effect the Ring would have on someone other than Sauron, because Isildur is the first person after Sauron to hold it. But Elrond telling the story has the benefit of Gandalf’s recent decades of research, and the reader also can see the red flags popping up almost as soon as Isildur touches it. He “will have [the Ring] as weregild for my father, and my brother” he claims, which is a similar kind of justification to Bilbo’s story of winning the Ring instead of finding it. Weregild is, per dictionary.com: a term used in Anglo-Saxon and other Germanic countries for “money paid to the relatives of a murder victim in compensation for loss and to prevent a blood feud.” It’s something paid to prevent further bloodshed. It would have been weregild if Sauron had handed it over after Anárion had died, as part of some kind of peace brokerage. But it can’t be weregild if you’re taking it off the dead body of your enemy; it’s too late by then. Isildur does have every right to it as a spoil of war, and no one disputes that right. But the fact that Isildur has to change it and further justify it even in his own mind is a sign that the Ring is already working on him. And if that is not enough (which it might not be—weregild is a very archaic term), Tolkien further illustrates the effects of the Ring taking hold on Isildur in the document that Gandalf discovers in Minas Tirith’s archives: “But for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the words of Sauron the only fair. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.”

This effect of the Ring is not something that can be defeated easily. Only twice is it given up willingly: once by Bilbo, who needs all of the help Gandalf can give him, and once by Sam, who has born it for a very short time—and even then “Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and burden his master with it again.” There you see another justification—perfectly in character for Sam to want to spare Frodo, but also a thought that the Ring can latch onto and use, to twist for its own purposes.

And though Sam is able to return it to Frodo with relative ease, he tries to compromise: “If it’s too hard a job, I could share it with you, maybe?”

Frodo’s reaction illustrates just how far gone he is—made more tragic by his awareness of it:

“‘No, no!’ cried Frodo, snatching the Ring and chain from Sam’s hands. ‘No you won’t, you thief!’ He panted, staring at Sam with eyes wide with fear and enmity. Then suddenly, clasping the Ring in one clenched fist, he stood aghast. A mist seem to clear form his eyes, and he passed a hand over his aching brow. The hideous vision had seemed so real to him, half bemused as he was still with wound and fear. Sam had changed before his very eyes into an orc gain, leering and pawing at his treasure, a foul little creature with greedy eyes and slobbering mouth. But now the vision had passed. There was Sam kneeling before him, his face wrung with pain, as if he had been stabbed in the heart; tears welled from his eyes.

“‘O Sam!’ cried Frodo. ‘What have I said? What have I done? Forgive me! After all you have done. It is the horrible power of the Ring. I wish it had never, never, been found. But don’t mind me, Sam. I must carry the burden to the end. It can’t be altered. You can’t com between me and this doom.’”

And that is only looking at what it does to people who possess it. Saruman never comes near it, but the mere desire twists him from someone noble and wise and good into a miniature Sauron. Boromir also falls—he is a good man, an honorable and brave and ambitious man desperate to protect his home, and the Ring takes that and twists it until Boromir breaks and attacks Frodo. The Ring is a thing made with evil and malicious intentions, for explicitly evil purposes, and it cannot be taken and used for good—in fact it will take even the best of intentions and twist them to evil. Gandalf knows this, and that is why when Frodo asks if he will take the Ring his response is immediate and vehement:

‘No!’ cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. ‘With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.’ His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. ‘Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it.’

And Galadriel has a similar response when Frodo offers it to her. There is of course her famous description of what she would become were she to take it, but then Sam says to her:

‘But if you’ll pardon my speaking out, I think my master was right. I wish you’d take his Ring. You’d put things to rights. You’d stop them digging up the gaffer and turning him adrift. You’d make some folk pay for their dirty work.’

‘I would,’ she said. ‘That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it.’

That is why the plot of The Lord of the Rings centers around the Ring’s destruction. Everything else—the battles, the politics, the power struggles, Aragorn’s rise to kingship—all of it is secondary. And the Ring itself is an active player. I will not go so far as to claim it has sentience, or any kind of active thought, but there is a significant part of Sauron’s will and his power held within it, and there is a drive to be found and kept and used—and ultimately to return to its maker.

The Silmarils, on the other hand, are the greatest creation of Fëanor at the height of his powers in Valinor:

For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable. Then he began a long and secret labor, and he summoned all his lore, and his power, and his subtle skill; and at the end of all he made the Silmarils.

As three great jewels they were in form. But not until the End, when Fëanor shall return who perished ere the Sun was made … shall it be known of what substance they were made. Like the crystal of diamonds it appeared, and yet was more strong than adamant, so that no violence could mar it or break it within the Kingdom of Arda. Yet that crystal was to the Silmarils but as is the body to the Children of Ilúvatar: the house of its inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life. And the inner fire of the Silmarils Fëanor made of the blended light of the Trees of Valinor, which lives in them yet, though the Trees have long withered and shine no more.

Fëanor’s motives in making the Silmarils are not wholly clear—whether he had some foresight of the death of the Trees, or whether he just wanted to see if he could do it, or to show off his skills, or what. But whatever his motive is, it is not to enthrall or ensnare anyone. On the contrary—while the Ring seeks to isolate its bearer, the Silmarils, though “even in the darkness of the deepest treasury [they] of their own radiance shone like the stars of Varda; and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light and received it and gave it back in hues more marvelous than before.” They are at their most beautiful when out in the light, where they are most likely to be seen and enjoyed by everyone.

They are then hallowed by Varda. To hallow a thing is to to make it holy, and in the case of the Silmarils it also means that “thereafter no moral flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered”. The mortal flesh bit is contradicted later when Beren handles one with seemingly no issue, but Beren is an exception to many rules, and what remains consistent is that nothing “of evil will” can touch the Silmarils and come away unharmed.

Like the One Ring, the entire plot of The Silmarillion is the great desire of various characters for the Silmarils. This begins with Melkor, whose lust for them inflames his desire to destroy Fëanor, and the friendship between the Valar and the Elves. But this should come as no surprise to the reader; Melkor has historically lusted after sources of power and Light, going often into the Void in search of the Flame Imperishable. The Silmarils themselves are not doing anything to Melkor; they are the objects of his desires, but not the source.

This pattern continues throughout the The Silmarillion. Fëanor and his sons swear their famous Oath, but the Silmarils don’t make them do it. Then Thingol tells Beren that he must retrieve a Silmaril before he can marry Lúthien, he is setting what seems to everyone present to be an impossible goal, especially after the Dagor Bragollach and the breaking of the Siege of Angband. I’m not saying that Thingol does not actually want a Silmaril; he is very happy to have it once he gets it, but it’s a very different desire from the kind inspired by the Ring much later. Then someone is the bearer of the One Ring, the last thing they want to do is give it up, as discussed above. But the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien retrieve from Morgoth is passed around without any issue through many different hands. Nowhere is it even implied that Elwing, for example, has trouble giving it to Eärendil to take to the Valar, or to take with him when he sets sail in Vingilot.

Thingol’s desire for the Silmaril I mentioned above; it comes closest to mirroring the kind of obsession triggered by the Ring, but it is not the same. Although “as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it,” which sounds a lot like Ring-esque obsession, it does not drive him to isolate himself, or to keep the Silmaril hidden away where only he can see or find it, the way Bilbo keeps the Ring in his pocket and never takes it out when others can see it. Thingol does become “minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping,” but by its very nature that can’t be done secretly. There is also no use to the Silmaril the way there is to the Ring—it cannot turn one invisible, and it does not give one power over others. The Silmarils have a power—more on that later—but it’s of a very different kind.

An explanation can be found for Thingol’s obsession through a study of his character arc and his relationship with Valinor and the Trees (which is another essay unto itself). Thingol, along with Ingwë and Finwë, goes to Valinor as an ambassador, and when they return to Cuiviénen there is nothing in the text to indicate that he is more or less enthusiastic than his companions to convince the Eldar to go to dwell with the Valar, and he in fact leads the largest faction of the Eldar over Middle-earth on the Great Journey. It is only by chance (if chance you call it) that he stumbles upon Melian in Nan Elmoth, where “a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.” Famously, they remain lost in Nan Elmoth so long that Ulmo comes back to get the Teleri that have lingered to search for him, and under Olwë many of them depart, and those that remain give up the chance to get to Valinor—and that includes Thingol when he finally returns to them. Thingol does not choose to remain behind; he gets left behind. And when The Silmarillion speaks of Thingol’s desire to go to Valinor, it specifically says that it is the light of the Trees that he desires: “Greatly though he had desired to see again the light of the Trees, in the face of Melian he beheld the light of Aman as in an unclouded mirror, and in that light he was content.”

Fast forward to the Flight of the Noldor, and Thingol learns that Morgoth has destroyed the Trees (and murdered his friend Finwë), so that even if he were to reach Valinor, their light is gone forever. Fast forward to the Dagor Bragollach, and the Siege of Angband has broken and Beleriand is swiftly growing ever more dark and dangerous as the power of Morgoth grows. Then Beren comes, and the Quest happens, and now Thingol has a Silmaril. He no longer has to be content with the reflected light of Aman in Melian’s face, however unclouded a mirror it may be. Now he has the real thing, a real piece of Laurelin and Telperion at Mingling. Of course it might become an obsession.

Less readily explainable is the Dwarves’ decision to insist upon the Silmaril and the Nauglamír as payment, when Thingol commissions them to combine the two. They have been coming and going between their mountain halls and Menegroth for many generations by now, and there is no mention of any kind of prior dispute over payment—certainly not one that results in bloodshed. Yet when Thingol goes to take up the finished Nauglamír they “in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’”

This does sound rather like the Ring-induced desires we see in The Lord of the Rings, although the Dwarves do not mention the Silmaril. It is Thingol who decides that that is what they want—whether he is correct in this assessment is, in my opinion, debatable. There is another form of treasure that warps people’s minds and desires—dragon gold. And the Nauglamír has just come from Nargothrond, that was for several years under the control of Glaurung. I have thus far only cited the published Silmarillion but at this point I do want to point out that in a previous draft of Thingol’s demise, the gold that Húrin brings to Thingol is, explicitly, cursed.

In the draft of the Quenta Noldorinwa found in The Shaping of Middle-earth Húrin and a few outlaws arrive at Nargothrond “which as yet none, Orc, Elf, or Man, had dared to plunder, for dread of the spirit of Glómund [Glaurung] and his very memory.” There they find the dwarf Mîm, who has come to Nargothrond and “bound [the treasure] to himself with many spells.” Húrin’s companions kill Mîm, “and at his death Mîm cursed the gold.”

This is the gold that, in this version of the story, Húrin takes to throw at Thingol’s feet, and it is this gold that Thingol then summons the Dwarves to make into the Nauglamír in which to hang the Silmaril. The text in this version is extremely explicit about the hold that the cursed gold takes over Thingol and also over the Dwarves who come to work with it. “Yet also they [the Dwarves] lusted for the Silmaril,” is added almost as an afterthought.

In the published Silmarillion there is no explicit curse, though the description of Nargothrond when Húrin comes to it is almost exactly the same as the earlier Quenta, and if one is familiar with The Hobbit, one might remember what else Tolkien has written about dragon hoards. When Bilbo witnesses Thorin’s dealing with Bard after Smaug is slain, the narrator says that “also he did not reckon with the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded … Long hours in the past days Thorin had spent in the treasury, and the lust of it was heavy on him.” This is commonly called the dragon-sickness; its effects are varied in The Hobbit, affecting some more strongly than others—such as Thorin, and also the Master of Lake-town, who “being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste.”

One can thus infer that both Thingol and the Dwarves of Nogrod are also susceptible to the dragon-sickness, and also to fatal amounts of pride. This puts some of the blame on the Nauglamír, but still none at all on the Silmaril.

None of this is to say that the Silmarils are not desirable. The entire plot of The Silmarillion hinges on their desirability. But in this they are passive objects, unlike the Ring that actively seeks to ensnare new bearers whenever it can. What power lies in the Silmarils lies in the light of the Trees that lives inside them, and that light was made by Yavanna, and is holy and life-giving. The people of Sirion believe that “in the Silmaril lay the healing and the blessing that had come upon their houses and their ships,” and that seems to play a much larger part in their refusal to surrender the Silmaril to Maedhros than the fact that it is an heirloom of Lúthien and Dior. Considering the state of the rest of Beleriand at this time, there seems to be some truth to that belief. It is with the Silmaril also that Eärendil and Elwing are able at last to pass through the barriers around Valinor and come to the shores of Eldamar.

And, much later, it is the light of that Silmaril that Galadriel captures in the phial she gifts to Frodo, and though that phial might be considered as much a reflection of the light of Aman as lives in Melian’s face, there is real tangible power in it—power that works against that of the Ring (and the Witch-king) in the Morgul Vale as the Witch-king and his armies pass by:

There was no longer any answer to that command in his own will, dismayed by terror though it was, and he felt only the beating upon him of a great power from outside. It took his hand, and as Frodo watched with his mind, not willing it but in suspense (as if he looked on some old story far away), it moved the hand inch by inch towards the chain upon his neck. Then his own will stirred; slowly it forced the hand back and set it to find another thing, a thing lying hidden near his breast. Cold and hard it seemed as his grip closed on it: the phial of Galadriel, so long treasured, and almost forgotten till that hour. As he touched it, for a while all thought of the Ring was banished from his mind. He sighed and bent his head.

Later in Shelob’s lair Frodo brings the phial out, and

for a moment it glimmered, faint s a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light, as though Eärendil had himself come down from the high sunset paths with the last Silmaril upon his brow. The darkness receded from it, until ti seemed to shine in the center of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire.

Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvelous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency. Seldom had he remembered it on the road, until they came to Morgul Vale, and never had he used it for fear of its revealing light. Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.

And this is only the light of the Silmaril that Galadriel has caught in the water of her mirror, not the Silmaril itself—a fragment of a fragment of the light of the Trees. It stands and acts in opposition of the Shadow, whether of Morgoth or of Sauron.

All of this has been to say: one can compare the roles that the Silmarils and the One Ring play in their respective stories, as each lies at the center, but there the similarities end. The Silmarils are desirable for their goodness; the Ring is desirable for the malicious power that it promises any prospective bearer. As objects of power they are the antithesis of one another, and for a reader to treat or regard the Silmarils as they would the Ring is, quite frankly, wrong. The motives of a maker matter in Middle-earth, and whatever his deeds later, one cannot equate Fëanor at the height of his power in Valinor to Sauron at the height of his in Mordor.

Bibliography:

1. The Fellowship of the Ring, “The Council of Elrond”, “The Shadow of the Past”, “The Mirror of Galadriel” 2. dictionary.com, entry: weregild 3. The Return of the King, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol" 4. The Silmarillion, “Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor” 5. The Silmarillion, “Of the Ruin of Doriath” 6. The Silmarillion, “Of Thingol and Melian” 7. The Silmarillion, “Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië” 8. The Shaping of Middle-earth, “The Quenta” 9. The Hobbit, “The Gathering of the Clouds” 10. The Hobbit, “The Last Stage” 11. The Two Towers, “The Stairs of Cirith Ungol" 12. The Two Towers, “Shelob’s Lair”

[ivfrankenstein]

got power over me; 

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Halbrand/Sauron x fem!reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:

“It's not an enviable fate they've given you. There’s s no mercy in tying you to me.” “It was you, not them, who did the tying. Wasn't it you who named me that precious word — lover? Aren't we bound by the same ties?”

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: maia!reader, angst/fluff here, guess it’s star-crossed lovers trope 𝐚/𝐧: seren — star [in welsh]. gif: @ladyhawke​; eng not my 1st language, so be merciful for mistakes, my stars 🫶🏻

𝕹𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖗 understood the purposes of the One so clearly as Manwë. With Manwë dwelt Varda, Lady of the Stars, and the light of Iluvatar still lived in her face. Melkor feared her more than all others whom Eru made. Back in the days when Melkor's misdeeds began, an idea was sent to Varda to summon a spirit she had created earlier from the Light of the Stars, capable of bringing back those of the good powers who had been seduced by Melkor's darkness.

That light of the combined creation of Manwë and Varda was to reveal the true path to those of Morgoth's devotees who were still capable of seeing it and hesitating.

By the time Serena was descended upon Arda, the Great Enemy had fallen, but his strongest and most loyal servant was still wandering among the living, bringing himself into voluntary exile. Only one and only once did he fall into the despair that led to his repentance. He was called by many names by those who suffered at his hand, but Sauron was his last. 

In those relatively early years of Y/N's life, a name Serena bore in Middle–earth, she lived by instinct rather than orders from above, the way she was able to. Left alone to face all the new things, Y/N was just at the stage of exploring the world that was to become her home for centuries when, along with the rest, she faced Mairon. Which is why, when the two met, it was more of an accident than a successful hunt. But that’s a different story from this one.

That one was about how it's not hard to stop a dagger when it's already so close to someone else's chest, and also how it's not hard to be penetrated by another. This story, on the other hand, is about what you have to deal with when trust isn’t your strong suit after all. 

“Even if it was me who did the tying, I won't let it be used against me.” 

Many days in this wilderness and in this hut overgrown with moss on the outside. No longer than usual, in fact. But apparently too little space, and in its absence, too palpable is the addiction into which he has driven himself and not even noticed. 

“Used? W-what do you think it is? The nets I cast to catch you?” 

Y/N always deftly handled his temperament — not fervent, but at times so chilling that it scorches better than any fire. But this time Halbrand noticed how her lower lip trembled slightly. He didn't care if it was caused by the anger he'd driven her to, or by resentment. All he wanted was to push her to the level of vulnerability to which he himself had reached, so it would be fair.  

“It could become them,” dense shadows ran across his face, dispersed by the warm light of the candles, as he stepped back to curtain the small window. “Have you forgotten what you were created for in the first place?” he looked at Y/N half-turned, just enough to see her reaction, but not enough for her to see his.

Such a typical move of his. Which, in context, is a silent acknowledgement that Sauron is almost defeated, and it touches those deep strings of Y/N's heart that make her cheeks blush. It was obvious that she shared this defeat with him, though to his eyes it remained hidden. 

“You don't think they're proud of what you've accomplished in this, do you?” he taunted Y/N on purpose, outwardly mocking the way she had missed, failed, and fallen, keeping quiet that it was actually him who did all of this. With an impenetrable grin on his face, Halbrand feared that Y\N would seriously back down, obey his deceptive speeches or voice of reason, or anything else that would raise doubts in her faith in him. 

He was seeking devotion, and that devotion was a treasure she would not give him so easily.

“Take off your cynical mask when it's me you're talking to.” Y/N said sternly and rose from her seat, “You wanted me to call you Halbrand,” she took a step toward him, keeping his provocative gaze on her, “so deign not to treat me as if it were Melkor's right hand that appeared before me.” 

“But it is.” Halbrand was gloomy, like an enraged sky before the onset of a rainstorm, and it was almost like he physically exhaled the flames he was diligently extinguishing somewhere in the depths. 

Yet, Y/N kept walking forward, “No, not anymore,” her palm reached his chest and he shuddered, “You were created like Mairon, and there wasn't a single trace on you of what torments you now,” she could feel how his heart pounded out of his ribcage through the thin fabric of his tunic, “The traces will go away if you let them.” She stared at the throbbing vein on Halbrand's neck for a long moment, then looked up at him, “Is it possible for you to let them?” 

Her lips were in such a pleasant, pampering closeness and it made him so angry. It was a desire... something, in this mortal form, that Halbrand had to get used to for quite a while. He ran his hand across Y/N cheekbone the way it was the blade of a knife, not his finger. 

“If all this turns out to be the intention they put in you, my Serena, just to punish me..” he grabbed her neat face, “It'd better not be, because I'm going to be dead pissed.” 

Y\N only laughed at it, “You should know me better than that.” she found his hand, only briefly averting her gaze from his eyes fixed on her, and wove their fingers together, “But instead, you choose to be blind.” 

Whether it was the sweetness inherent in a woman's nature or the the prodding effect of Maiar, Halbrand, yet, wanted to believe that this was how love was functioning. He had only basic notions of this curse, but even that was enough for him to classify himself as one of these poor doomed men as well. This weakness, seeping into him like poison, urged him to give in, to give more than he had, to the one he had chosen (or not chosen), but wanted to keep near him either way. 

He was holding Y/N by the chin when, for the first time, the crystals of tears gathered at the border of her fluttering lashes became obvious to him. Her soul languished in oppressive anticipation for at least a word, his word, to be spoken. 

“I will spend entire years needing you if you ever abandon me.” he said in a low voice, “Will your love be enough not to condemn me to such a fate?” 

Y\N gently moved her palm to Halbrand's neck, and softly drew him to her until their foreheads touched. To her relief, he followed easily. “I don't know what our fate is, Hal,” his breath was warm on her, and it reminded her that this was reality, a peaceful one, not that which she was accustomed to in all her chilling visions, “Is yours enough to keep us both from getting there?”

[janeyshivers]

i'm sick of modern politics ruining JRR Tolkien's original vision

haha you thought this was gonna be about wokeness or Rings of Power or something didn't you dipshit. actually its about how Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor (2014) has a bizarre hard-on for slavery apologia because it's unacceptable to call out the modern slavery we see in the prison system.

pretty much as soon as you start Shadow of Mordor, it draws a very hard line between the orcs in Mordor (bad, nasty, are using slaves to fuel their war effort) and the Men of Gondor (flawed but heroic, built and maintained the Black Gate with """prison labour"""). the slaves in Mordor must be liberated! most of the missions revolve around this! but the fact that Gondor also uses literal slaves is never brought up, because it's always elided as "prison labour", which is the same thing as slavery, with the crucial difference being that it's just the modern version that's still legal in modern-day prisons. and god forbid we bring any degree of focus to how the protaganist faction of mostly handsome white dudes actually engage in this kind of shit constantly, because that might almost border on social commentary. can't have that!

ok, that's shitty on its face, but i also think it actually misses a great oppurtunity to underscore Tolkien's original stories. don't get me wrong, i'm not trying to argue that the dude was a prison abolitionist or whatever. what i am arguing is that he was writing about Gondor as this kingdom that's slowly slipping into decline, corruption, and ruin because the royal line was broken. do i agree with that? fuck no, obviously not, royalty are parasitic swine and every kingdom on Earth would be better off without them. but if you're writing a modern followup to Tolkien's stuff, the slavery shit actually gives you a real oppurtunity to build on that. with a little tweaking, you could turn the slavery/"""prison labour""" dichotomy into a real illustration of how the slow rot of Gondor going to shit is making space for Sauron's return.

considering a lot of the Outcasts in Mordor who end up enslaved escaped from under Gondor's thumb, you could make a real argument that Gondor's breathtakingly evil policy of using slaves to maintain its defences was not only morally bankrupt by itself, but also delivered a population of defenceless slaves with nowhere to run to right into Sauron's lap. like the underfunding of the Rangers, like the lack of maintenance of alliances with kingdoms like Rohan, Gondor's weak and ineffectual political system under the Stewards is actively accelarating Sauron's return to power. again, i don't agree with making a story about how only the return of the king will fix the kingdom's problems, but if you're making a Tolkien story, that's the wheelhouse you're operating in.

the bones of this reading are in the game, but they're undermined by the game seeming to be utterly reticent to capitalise on it. at no point does a liberated Outcast slave say "hey actually, fuck you Talion, you and the other Rangers were as bad as the Uruk are". they are only ever deferential and grateful. even Dirhael's wife, who thinks Talion is a dick, doesn't go there. the orcs who are like "we're not so different, you and i >:)" only talk about how you like killing orcs, not the fact that you BOTH KEPT THE SAME FUCKING PEOPLE AS SLAVES. like it feels very deliberate that they don't go into this at all, like the devs are hoping you won't notice. this is ACTUAL "modern politics interfering with the story and themes of the game", far, far moreso than any like, black elf or woman with a big sword or whatever the fuck they've ever put in a Tolkien adaptation. the writers were too scared to commit to an idea that would have jived incredibly well with the themes of the story they were spinning off from, because it's a taboo to point out that the way prisons treat people in modern society is absolutely monstrous. genuinely craven shit.

[sillysistersusi]

Not the Son You Remember, but the Man the World made Me

My fanfic for the @feanorianweek day 1: Maedhros

A/N: I am so sorry that this is late, but I couldn't manage to finish it sooner.

Enjoy!

Characters: Maedhros, Nerdanel & Celebrimbor

"You have changed the most." His Ammë's voice still rang in Maitimo's ears.

She hadn't meant any harm, he knew that, but it still affected him. Because he knew that Nerdanel's greatest wish had been for everything to be good again. That everything would go back to the way it used to be. And even if his brothers had changed a little, they didn't seem to have changed as much as Maitimo did.

He no longer had any scars from his torture, the only injury that remained was his missing hand and that was only because it always reminded him that he was no longer there, but there were still scars. But the kind of scars you couldn't see. The kind that was invisible eceryone and yet noticed by anyone who knew you.

Maitimo knew that he smiled less than he did back then, that he no longer radiated the same lightness and kindness as he did back then.

He was not the son his mother remembered, and that was painful.

Sometimes he felt strange, as if he was seeing the world through someone else's eyes and wasn't really there.

"Uncle Maitimo?"

Tyelpë.

Maitimo had completely forgotten his presence. Telperinquar came around once a week, usually Maitimo tried to help him deal with difficult thoughts related to the torture by Sauron, but today neither of them had felt like talking, so Maitimo had made tea while Tyelpë told him about his trip to the forest with Tyelkormo and Írissë last week.

"You are not well." Tyelpë said and put down his teacup to gently reach for Maitimo's hand. "Normally- normally we talk about my feelings, but maybe this time we should talk about yours?"

Maitimo sighed. "I am fine, Tyelpë. No need to worry."

But Telperinquar was not convinced. After all, he had inherited Curufin's acumen.

"Please, Uncle Maitimo, I would like to help you, but I so not know how. You helped me so much and I would like to give you something in return."

Maitimo sighed. He would have preferred to continue saying that he didn't need any help, but he could understand Tyelpë all too well. After Findékano had rescued him, he had felt the same way. He knew how overwhelming the feeling of wanting to give back help could be. On the other hand, Maitimo now knew how Findékano had felt back then and he could understand now why Findékano had been so reluctant to let Maitimo give him something back. It wasn't Tyelpë's Faust that he needed help to deal with these memories.

"Tyelpë, how is your relationship with Curufinwë?"

"Uncle Maitimo, do not change the subject- "

"I am not, trust me." he said a little more quietly than usual, which made Telperinquar falter.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Atya and I are- well. Not like we used to be, but of course we have changed a lot. But we are still a family, so everything's normal between us I guess. Why?"

Maitimo took his hand out of Tyelpë's to rub his forehead. "I think- Well- I am not who I was, you know?"

"Certainly not, how could you?" Then Tyelpë paused and scrutinised his uncle insistently, furrowing his brow and sticking the tip of his tongue between his lips in contemplation, looking incredibly like Curufin. This almost elicited a smile from Maitimo. "Did someone say that to you? You know our family would do anything for you."

"It is not, ah, Telperinquar," he sighed. "Ammë said I have changed the most."

"Is that really so bad." Tyelpë looked down at his hands and out of the corner of his eye Maitimo could see tears in his eyes. "I mean yes, we were hurt, but in the end you have to grow from things like this, do you not? We cannot let that bring us down."

Maitimo looked at his nephew now. He was really incredibly proud of all the progress he had made.

At first, Tyelpë had barely managed to look him in the eye, let alone utter a sentence that wasn't so stuttered that Maitimo had difficulty understanding its content when they talked about sensitive topics.

But he also had to realise that Telperinquar was right in some way. He shouldn't be ashamed of what had happened to him at the hands of others and should concentrate on healing and being happy again.

"Atya felt the same way, you know?" Tyelpë said quietly. "I do not know if you noticed, but in the Halls of Mandos Tyelkormo and he were always avoiding each other. Uncle Tyelko was ashamed that he let his little brother die when he was right there and should have been protecting him, he felt the same way about Uncle Carnistir. However, Atya thought he would avoid him because he had changed so much. That is why he was very sad until they talked about it and came to the conclusion that they still loved each other the same. I would suggest that you talk to Grandmother about it."

Maitimo smiled gently, but then something caught his eye. "You are calling Curufinwë Atya again."

Tyelpë tucked a few strands of hair behind his ears. "We are making progress I guess."

"I think I will try to talk to Ammë about it. "Maitimo sighed heavily. "Thank you for your open ear Tyelpë."

Telperinquar gently wrapped his arms around him. "We are family after all."

~•~

Maitimo found Nerdanel in the dining room, sitting over a sketch for a new sculpture. For a while, he just stood in the doorway and looked at her. The way her red hair shone in the light of the setting sun and the scratching sound the pen in her hand made in the silence around her.

A lump had formed in his throat and his eyes had stung the whole way here.

He didn't know how to start this conversation. His mother and him had never really had serious conversations.

Then his knees began to shake and he had to support himself with one hand on the doorframe. Nerdanel seemed to have seen this movement out of the corner of her eye, because she turned her head towards him and promptly dropped the pen. "Maitimo?" she asked in horror.

He obviously looked more sad and tired than he had thought. His mother sounded so worried and almost sad that tears escaped his eyes.

"I am sorry, Amya. I never wanted you to be sad because of me."

Nerdanel carefully took his arms and led him to the chair where she had been sitting a few moments ago and helped him to sit down. She carefully knelt down in front of him and stroked his cheek with the palm of her hand. "What are you talking about?" she asked quietly and worriedly. "You are one of the reasons why I am happy. Just as all my children make me happy, you make me happy too, Maitimo."

"Oh- " he took a shaky breath. "Even though we have changed? Even though we are no longer the boys you knew as your children?"

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but more and more tears came.

"Oh Maitimo." she whispered and gently stroked her thumbs under his eyes. "My dear, good Maitimo. That's not what I meant. Change does not always mean something bad."

Her voice was trembling now and Maitimo thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

"I would be lying if I said I did not miss the old days, but all that matters to me is that you are here again," Nerdanel continued gently. "I still love you just the same, but it hurts to know that you were hurt so much and there was nothing I could do to help you."

Maitimo lowered his head onto his mother's shoulder and sobbed quietly. "It is all right," whispered Nerdanel. "Everything is all right now. I am here now and I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. Never."

And so Maitimo understood. Nerdanel had hated his change, not because he had changed, but because she believed it meant she had let her children down by not coming with them. She hated why he changed not that he changed. Because it was a part of him, and she still seemed to love him.

"You are a wonderful mother, Amya," he whispered and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Nerdanel laughed wetly and buried her face in his red hair. "You are back home, so we can make sure everything is good from now on."

"Yes." Maitimo nodded. He felt much lighter now. "Yes, we can do that."

[princessfantaghiro]

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. BROKEN GLASS.

He looked into his Mirror of Secrets. He coined them just now, when he sensed in his Power that Galadriel had created similar ones. She-Elf wove them from the magic of Light, of course. He created his from Darkness, from black magic. It allowed them to learn each other's secrets. Thoughts. Or at least some of them... 

'Show her to me! Show me the Beauty!'

He saw her face. Flashbacks. At first she smiled gently, even coquettishly. 

He saw himself from the past when he confessed his love to her. In his own way, indirectly. Without the trivial <I love you.> 

He had never felt so open as he did in the forest, with her. So...defenseless. He almost ran out of words to express the storm that was raging in his heart, tearing his soul apart. He tried his best to control himself, but his voice was shaking slightly. He hoped she wouldn't notice. He was wrong. 

"Fighting at your side I... I felt... if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being then I...'

'I felt it too,' she admitted. 

He had never had such a strong bond with any living being, before or since. Even with Morgoth, his beloved Lord, whom he worshiped as his personal God. 

Suddenly her face, so radiant, confident and pure, changed expression. Galadriel's features darkened with rage. Her lips twisted into a merciless grimace, as if she felt the utmost contempt. Galadriel's beautiful face that says straight:

'I HATE YOU. I DESPISE YOU! WE WILL NEVER BE TOGETHER. I WILL NEVER BE YOURS. FORGET IT. NO NO NO. NEVER!'

Now his face was gripped by the anvils of grief. The pain was overwhelming, unbearable. Sauron rested his hands on the mithril's altar. Flames of fire flared in his eyes. The madness. 

Mithril...The hardest metal in the universe that no one can break. The muscles in his face tightened more and more. He increased the pressure and then...The altar broke like a splinter breaks. A hiss, a howl, like a mortally wounded animal, came out of his mouth. A wounded beast. 

For always...For as long as I can remember... For millions of years... This world has been telling me NO. NOW I SAY NO TO THIS FUCKING WORLD. LET IT BURN, LET IT BURN. I DON'T WANT IT TO EXIST. A WORLD THAT DENIES EVERYTHING TO ME EVERY TIME HAS NO RIGHT TO EXIST. I'M TAKING IT BACK FROM HIM.

I WILL BUILD A NEW, BETTER. 

He thought he heard her voice again. He reached for the mirror one last time.

'I will NEVER be on your side. Don't EVEN dream about it. It's a dead dream, just as dead as you. MONSTER!'

Sauron cursed all life in existence at that moment. Fire, water, earth, plants and air.

'LET IT BE SO. I WILL BRING DEATH TO ARDA. DIE.'

The glass in the magical mirror forged from dark magic shattered as soon as the Dark Lord looked at it again. Pieces of the glass were scattered in all directions. One fragment lodged in his eye, leaving a tiny, indelible mark. 

MARKED. FOREVER CURSED. 

Both his eyes burned red.

The Dark Lord execrated terribly in the dark speech.

No one saw the one, pearly tear fall from his eye.

'All is lost.'

[cinnamon-roll-whump]

thanks to @melkors-defense-attorney for helping with this one! both in the middle when I got stuck, and with the ending :D

finally I write some physical pain :3 not a lot, not super well, but it's a start lol

also Tulkas might be a bit OOC here, not sure

Previous

-

"MORGOTH!"

Melkor flinches at the familiar bellow. Anna leaps from his lap and hides underneath the chair.

He stands, but hasn't even taken one step when Tulkas slams the door open.

Melkor winces. "Please don't break my house."

"What did you do?" Tulkas snarls.

"Today? I fed my cat. Ate breakfast." Melkor looks down at his clothes; he's still in the same robe from yesterday. From Mairon's visit. "...I was planning to take a shower."

"Don't play innocent." Tulkas slams the door behind him, and the room's size is suddenly halved. "Why was Sauron seen leaving your home yesterday?"

"Don't call him that." Melkor bristles, almost wishing he had a tail to flick angrily.

"Remember, Morgoth, your freedom is conditional."

"I know." He tries not to, but he shrinks as Tulkas steps closer, his chest squeezing tight. It's a struggle to breathe. "I remember the conditions of my release. I haven't broken any."

"So Sauron didn't visit you?"

Fuck. There's no good way to answer that.

If he says yes, then he'll be punished, have Anna taken away or be throw back into the Void. Or, worse, Mairon will suffer that same fate.

If he says no... Eru, Tulkas is already suspicious enough of everything he does! He'll suffer the same punishment if– when– Tulkas realizes he lied.

"So he did visit you." Tulkas's hand drops to Melkor's throat.

"No- I mean, yes, but–" Melkor stammers. He can't bring himself to reject guilt at the price of laying it upon his Mairon. "It's not like that, we weren't-- he didn't--" Chill creeps up his legs, brushing at the back of his neck, and he can practically see the darkness of the Void obliterating his senses again.

His robe moves, and fur presses into his ankle. Instinctively, without thinking, he pushes Tulkas's hand away and kneels.

Tulkas steps closer. Melkor sees a heavy boot far too close to his sweet Anna, and does the only thing he can think to do. He pulls her away just as Tulkas's boot connects with his hand, and he stifles a cry. Anna wriggles in his other arm and noses his chest.

Swallowing tears of sharp pain, Melkor looks up into Tulkas's face, stern and hard and unforgiving as stone. He pulls his injured hand close to his chest, trying not to look at the discoloration, trying not to feel the wrongness inside as he rests it on Anna's head.

"What," Tulkas says finally, "is this?"

"My cat." His arm tightens around her.

"Your cat."

"Please." Melkor remains on his knees, gently petting Anna. "Whatever you do to me, leave Anna and Mair–"

Tulkas's gaze darkens and he steps forward again. Without warning, his fist slams into Melkor's jaw. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Melkor can't speak, can barely think of a reply. "Yes." Fuck, that's the wrong one. His arms open, dropping Anna to the ground. She squeaks in protest and darts around to hide behind him.

Just in time, too: Tulkas aims for Melkor's stomach next. He doubles over with a cough. "T-Tulkas, please."

"You've always thought me a fool." Tulkas towers over Melkor now, kicks him. "Thought you were so much better than the rest of us, so much cleverer. And now look at you."

Through his pain, Melkor registers a little head rubbing against his arm.

"Go away, Anna," he whispers. He elbows her gently. "Get away."

She doesn't listen. He's her safe place, as much a father as she's ever known.

Melkor senses rather than sees Tulkas walking around him. He bares his teeth and hisses at Anna, smacking her bottom lightly. "Please, baby, go!"

Anna mewls and shies away. Good. She'll be safe if she's gone, and if she can't be found he can fight back.

"I'm going to have to tell Manwë about this." Tulkas's hand grabs Melkor's hair, and he lets out a cry as he's pulled up. "I wonder what he'll order? Maybe he'll have you brought to Valinor so we can keep an eye on you, or send guards to stay here."

Melkor bares his teeth. "I agreed to terms wherein I was given a measure of freedom. My own home, away from Valinor–"

"You also agreed to no contact with Sauron." Tulkas grabs his injured hand and Melkor screams.

When the searing pain fades enough that he can speak, he spits, "I never spoke to Sauron, I swore that and I've kept to it! Leave my home now!"

"You're lying."

Melkor keeps his hand close to his chest and pulls back as much as he can with Tulkas's hand still in his hair, and he looks him in the eye. "I swear, Tulkas, on my Song and on my cat, the last time I spoke to Sauron was before my imprisonment."

Tulkas is a fool, so easily tricked. He knows Melkor well enough that he suspects something, his eyes narrowed in distrust, but he knows Melkor well enough to know this isn't a lie.

"Manwë needs to judge this," he growls finally. "You're coming back to Valinor with me."

Melkor's heart constricts. No, no, oh no. He can't return, he can't go back there.

One look at Tulkas's face says he doesn't have a choice.

"Let me bring my cat, and I will come quietly," he says softly.

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

Finally found the time to edit and upload! Thank you all for your patience, and again for your words of kindness that are truly sustaining me and keeping the inspiration flowing! ❤️😘

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: None

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, and Eight!

Chapter Nine

The two of you dressed quickly, and you thoroughly checked Halbrand's armour to make sure it was securely on him. You felt the ship come to a rest, its destination reached. The fear was starting to creep back in. Would this be the last time you would ever see him? The paranoia was unavoidable, and he saw it in your eyes, and your trembling hands. He took them in his, holding them still, bringing them to his mouth. A soft yet lingering kiss, eyes closed as he savoured the feel of you. "A heartbeat, remember?" You sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes... only a heartbeat."

Halbrand kissed you, before just holding you in his arms where you both stood. The only sounds in the room were your breath and the beating of your hearts. Soon enough, a knock came at the door. When no words were uttered, Halbrand invited them in. You turned to see Commander Galadriel dressed once more in her spectacular silver armour, her hair braided beautifully. An elven warrior ready for battle. She smiled at the sight of you, happy to see you and Halbrand reunited. "And when did this happen?" "Not soon enough." spoke your love, holding bitterness for the past. "But not too late." you countered, trying to grab onto any positive you could. He looked down at you and smiled. Galadriel's warm expression began to fade, shifting to a determined one, her next words matching it. "Unfortunately, we must make haste. Elendil expects we reach Tirharad with the sunrise. They are readying the horses as we speak."

Halbrand nodded, and the three of you swiftly exited his cabin. You turned your head back as you left, knowing it would be the last time you would be inside. The memories you had made in there would stay with you always. You disembarked the vessel quickly, making for the horses stationed nearby. Soldiers had already began to congregate, finding their horse and mounting it, the plumes of white from atop their helmets blowing in the night air. Galadriel found Elendil, who pointed her and Halbrand in the direction of their own horses. The she-elf would be riding a white horse that suited her fair appearance, whilst your love would command a glorious brown steed.

Galadriel mounted her mare and prepared herself. You scanned the sea of soldiers and noticed almost all of them were ready to charge. "Come Halbrand, we must not delay." she spoke, and bid you farewell, trotting over to Elendil and the Queen Regent. It was time to say goodbye. and it was going to take every ounce of courage you had, for you could already feel the tears forming in your eyes. You crashed your body into Halbrand's in a frenzied embrace, and he squeezed you tightly. Before you broke apart completely, he kissed you passionately, one last time. You returned it in equal measure, memorising exactly how it felt, praying a day would never come where you would forget it. As it ended, Halbrand rested his forehead against yours for a moment, then stepped away to mount his horse. Not a word was spoken between the two of you, for neither knew what to say. He kept eye contact with you until the last possible second, before riding off, charging with the rest of the soldiers. Your tears spilled over and you covered your mouth, as you saw Halbrand reach Galadriel's side, and you stood there motionless until they disappeared on the horizon.

Before you could spend too much time overthinking every single aspect of what could happen, a voice called out to you from a short distance away. It wasn't one you were familiar with, but considering everyone else you knew had just galloped away, you turned towards it as if it were an old friend. The voice belonged to a young woman, similar to you in age it seemed, with gorgeous auburn locks that stopped at the top of her belly. She had a kind face, and grinned at you as you made eye contact. She introduced herself as Nisarien, and she had been put in charge of you by Queen Regent Miriel. Her watchful eye made flesh it seems. You wondered then if word of your reconciliation with Halbrand had reached the Queen. No doubt she would be pleased, and hopefully not too concerned with the movements of your love. You decided to again heed the advice Miriel had given you, and be wary of Nisarien. Although she really did not come across as the suspicious type.

As the first beams of sun finally broke through the sky, those that remained behind began to set up base camp, which would sit in a position of safety with a vantage point in case the enemy advanced too far. You remained with Nisarien and followed her lead, from setting up tents, beds, a makeshift kitchen, and whatever else needed attending to that wasn't already looked after. You were grateful to be kept busy. "So what exactly brings you along on this quest?" you asked your new companion. "I work in the palace, closely with the Queen Regent. When she was looking for volunteers, I did not hesitate." "What about your life back on Numenor? Don't you have a family or friends that will miss you?" "Oh yes, very much. I come from a rather large family actually, and I have a twin sister." "Did she come as well?" "Sadly no, I am the sole being of my kin to set foot on Middle Earth. Which I think is rather exciting." she exclaimed happily. She was almost too happy and it made you uneasy. "Speaking of exciting," she began whilst unloading medical supplies. "I've heard all about you! Your majesty!" she giggled. 

You didn't quite know what to make of Nisarien, and you prayed she wasn't the gossiping type. You just continued to organise the supplies as she unloaded them, waiting to see what she'd say next. "You two were the talk of the crew the whole journey across the sea!" Too late, the gossip's been had. "Oh we were, were we?" you humoured her, and she nodded giddily. "Oh yes you were, my lady! At first it was the rumours of the stowaway, 'Who is she?' 'Why is she here?' 'How did she get on the ship?' and then once your connection to Lord Halbrand and Commander Galadriel was confirmed, even more rumours were spreading, 'A low man with a Numenorean woman?' 'It's a lie, she's up to something.' 'They're both up to something.' I mean I could go on and on with this!"

"Please don't." you said without hesitating. You had heard quite enough. Suddenly you felt like a hundred eyes were on you and you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away back in Halbrand's cabin. However there was maybe only ten of you that had remained behind to fulfil your duties. Still, you could feel their gazes on the back of your skull. How much did they know about you, about Halbrand? Did they see the surface of it, a blossoming romance filled with turbulence? Or had they dived beneath the waves and seen the truth of it all that lurked within the murky depths? You begged it to be the former, and told yourself that whatever rumours they might come up with would not be as bad as the truth. Or could they be worse?

"So how long have you worked in the palace for, Nisarien?" you changed the subject before your mind could wander too deeply into the darkness. Nisarien didn't even blink as she went along with it, talking about herself and her daily life in service of her Queen. After an hour or so of this, you decided she was harmless, and despite her penchant for gossip, she clearly was not the type to commit any ill deeds, whether on behalf of the crown or not. The sun shone brightly in the sky, morning well and truly underway, yet you were quite exhausted after your labours, especially after not getting enough rest the night before. "Nisarien, I'm going to lie down for a while, now that things seem to be on track." "Of course, my lady." she grinned, then wished you pleasant dreams. Something told you that whatever dreams you might have would be anything but.

You stood atop a great tower, a giant sceptre symbolising your power over the land. An obsidian sky stretched out as far as your eyes would go, the lands over which you ruled were endless. Beneath you raged armies at war, elves and men against orcs, good versus evil, weakness versus power. You could hear the screams of the dead as they fell in combat, the metallic clashing of swords, the roaring of battle cries carried up to you on the wind. Your black dress flowed around you, your crown sharp as thorns. You glanced over to your love, who appeared nothing short of spectacular. His dark charcoal armour glistened in the glow of the mountain as it erupted in the distance. He too wore a crown, six long spikes sat atop his head, like claws grasping at the heavens. His long hair brushed behind him by the breeze. He turned to you then, noticing your gaze. As your eyes met, you felt a surge of power hit you. His hazel orbs were gone, all that remained were black slits, serpent like, surrounded by glowing irises that shone like embers. He smiled at you and called you to him without words. You obliged and let your bodies collide, and as you gazed at the death, decay, and despair at your feet, a lustful kiss was exchanged, the hunger within you both begging to be satisfied. "How about we join them, my love." he spoke, his eyes wandering back down to the pit. You hummed in devilish delight. "Yes... let's." you responded, excited for what was to come. Upon your descension into the masses, you stood back in awe as your love wreaked his havoc on his enemies, killing all who came near. None were a match for the lord of the rings.

A sonic boom stirred you from your slumber, bringing you back from the nightmare your mind continued to hold you hostage in night after night. The very ground shook beneath where you had been sleeping, and your stomach dropped instantly. Surely it could have been anything, but your gut told you otherwise. There was only one thing it could be: the mountain from your dreams had erupted. You did not yet know why you were having these visions, but the coincidence of them, the timing, sadly made sense. And you knew of a mountain that matched the description of the one you had seen in your slumber, that was located not far from Tirharad.

  Suddenly your stomach dropped even more. Halbrand.

You screamed and hurriedly ran outside the tent, the sunshine blinding you from above. You didn't wait for your eyes to adjust before sprinting out across the hills before you, trying to get to the highest point, to confirm your suspicions. You could hear Nisarien calling for you but you ignored her. You didn't stop running until you reached the very peak, then scanned the horizon before you as you caught your breath. You didn't have to look for long though. In the distance you saw it. A giant ash cloud hurtled high into the sky and wide upon the ground below. You clasped a hand to your mouth in shock, not believing what you were seeing. You heard footsteps on the grass around you, as others of your company had followed you to this view point. The weight of what you were witnessing took its toll on you, and you fell to your knees in grief. No one could have survived.

You remained in that spot for what felt like an age, watching as the darkness from the volcano spread out across the sky, just like in your dream. Soon day turned to night, but you were unable to move. Eventually, Nisarien came to fetch you, reminding you of your duty. "It's some kind of miracle... somehow... some wounded have started to arrive." she spoke heavily, unable to understand the words she was speaking. "Halbrand?!" you exclaimed in hope. "No, my lady, no sight of the Southlands' King." "Then leave me. Do not disturb me until he is returned." "But my lady-" "I SAID LEAVE!" you screamed at her then, your tears threatening to drown you. Nisarien gasped and backed away in fear, scampering off quickly. You knew going with her was the right thing to do, but you did not care. You had resigned yourself to let all men suffer until your love was returned to you.

Tagging: @starlady66 @chimeracuddles @denzit @restless-tides @king-halbrand @mordorgp @myrsinemezzo @wanderleave @hikarielizabethbloom @lordhalbrand 

[the-journey-was-the-point]

Taran's Prologue (Part 2)

@tolkienocweek Day 1: World Building

Sharing Part 2 of my fic about my OC Taran Ashvaen! I was thinking about the Men allied with Sauron (Haradrim, Easterlings, etc) and how their alliance came to be. Taran is basically the Dark Prince of Mordor who Sauron sends out to establish rapport with Men, so here's him doing just that!

Summary: A troop of Haradrim soldiers are captured and only have a mythical figure to turn to for help. Fortunately, he was listening. Part 1 here

It was nighttime in the desert between Southern Gondor and Harad. A troop of Gondorian soldiers made camp after capturing a company of Haradrim they encountered. It was alarming, the Gondorians thought, that their old enemies would be wandering so far out. More so since Gondor recently received word from the White Council that Sauron returned. They decided it was best to capture this suspicious band and bring them back for questioning. 

The Haradrim sat in silence, bound in sturdy rope. Their kingdom was slowly expanding into unclaimed territory northwest, and they'd been sent to fortify a small settlement as its people were in need of more defenses. On their way, they were ambushed by the Men of Gondor. It was dark inside the tent where they were being held, but by the dim light from the campfires outside, they could still make out each others’ figures. 

The Captain of the group spoke in a low murmur, his jaw set and his expression grim. He was a gruff, older man who had seen many battles. “It seems we won’t be returning after all,” he said to his men. There were about eight of them in total, all of them experienced, but mostly still quite young, definitely younger than their Captain. “Through battle and hardship, you have all followed me. I can only thank you for your loyalty. Should you wish to escape, I won’t fault you– most of you have families to return to– my only hope is you don’t betray our home to the enemy.”

“We haven’t lost hope yet, Captain!” said one of the men. There was an optimistic, almost cheery, tone to his voice.  

“How?” demanded the Captain after a pause.  “We are held captive, leagues away from our stronghold.”

“There’s always the Ashvaen.”

“The Ashvaen?”

“Yes!” Piped another young one. “There have been stories from Easterling merchants. They talk of a spirit that helps in your time of need.“

“It’s true,” said another. “Caravans from neighboring kingdoms have spoken of a benevolent flame that safeguards their travels and keeps watch at night.”

The Captain silenced his men with an annoyed grunt. “You lot have been spending too much time around the nursemaids. Ashvaen, bah! Simply a children’s story! See if there’s an Ashvaen when they take us to their fortress.”

“None of you will be taken anywhere. And if you ask me, those Men of Gondor should have stayed on their side of the Harnen.”

The Haradrim startled and searched for the unfamiliar voice that suddenly spoke. In the darkness, they saw a figure rise and take the appearance of a young man clothed in black. He was regal in his movements, and the air around him rippled with power. Somehow, they knew it was an ancient power. 

“The Ashvaen!” Breathed one of the men. “See, Captain! He’s real!” 

“Yes well, don’t tell the Gondorians that.” The Ashvaen replied, bending down to cut the ropes with a small, black knife. 

The Haradrim soldiers, Captain included, watched in awed silence, though the Captain eyed the young god with suspicion.

“I have an army of beasts with me,” said the Ashvaen after a while. “Your weapons are in a tent to the west. When you hear a warg howl, we will attack. Reclaim your swords and help us drive these Gondorians out.”

“What interest does a being like yourself have with us?” the Captain scrutinized. 

The Ashvaen simply replied, “Mordor has always been allies with the Haradrim.”

—

The attack happened just as the Ashvaen described. He slipped out of the tent –an action which appeared as if he vanished into thin air– and after a moment of anticipation, there was a great howl.

The Haradrim charged out of their tent and true enough, were met with the sight of fearsome beasts. There were wargs, razor-taloned birds, and deadly desert cats upon the ambushed Gondorians. At their helm was a great black warg, and they instinctively knew it was the Ashvaen.

They quickly reclaimed their weapons as instructed and joined in the fight, slaughtering some Gondorians while giving chase to others that tried to flee. Alongside their newfound allies, the Haradrim pursued their captors until the River Harnen that divided Southern Gondor and the regions near Harad. They did not cross, however, seeing that the Ashvaen stopped short at the banks. 

“Let them flee like cowardly dogs!” the Ashvaen proclaimed. “Let them spread the word to not cross into Haradrim territory again!”

The Haradrim let out a cheer as the Ashvaen transformed into a great black bird and led them home. 

—

“My forebears passed down stories of powerful gods. I did not think I would ever meet one in my lifetime.” 

The Ashvaen now sat with a Haradrim Lord, the one who oversaw the northwestern settlement the troop was headed to. The Lord was older even than the Captain, with gray streaks in his beard. In the distance, they could hear music and laughter from the feast the people were holding to celebrate their soldiers’ miraculous rescue.

“There was a time of secrecy,” the Ashvaen replied, “but it’s over now.” He took the chalice that was being offered and sipped from it. He fixed the Lord with a meaningful gaze. “The Great Power of old has returned, mighty and admirable.”

The Haradrim Lord leaned back in his seat. He stroked his beard, thinking over what he knew about his people’s past dealings with the Dark Lord. “And what does he seek that he sends his own to aid my men?”

Taran bowed his head respectfully. “Only that your Lordship will remember old alliances. He means for a great battle to occur, one where he hopes to quash our common enemies.” 

The Lord was silent for a long moment, his eyes gazing over the festivities. He had a look of wisdom in his eyes, but also weariness; he spent a good portion of his life keeping his people safe from the never-ending hardships that shaped their lives.

The people danced and sang, mothers fussed over their children, and young lovers whispered of hopeful futures. 

“We have been living in relative peace for some generations now,” the Lord said at last. “Unsteady, but a peace nonetheless. Good food, good cheer, and the comforts of home are all Men need in our short lives.”

He turned to the Ashvaen with a troubled and beseeching expression. “And yet I remember stories from my forefathers. Glory in battle, riches in gold, brilliant devices that bring the elements to heel. A power like that could rid us of our enemies forever, protect our kingdom for generations– bring us peace, real peace.”

“Gifts given by my master in friendship,”  the Ashvaen said reassuringly. “He treats his allies well.”

Outside, a half-drunk soldier recounted the story of their capture and rescue to his young relatives. 

“Then it is good that we are friends.”

[buffyfan145]

Finished "The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart" and so happy with how this adaption came out!!! :D The cast were all amazing and the ending was so good too. I did miss one thing about it knowing how the book ended, but everything else was there and I actually cried during a few scenes. More spoilers will be behind a cut but also I loved that scene of the book June made and gave to Alice and it had baby/childhood pictures and everyone's story, including an actual baby photo of Charlie Vickers!!! :D Was surprised to see that and I shouldn't be surprised he was an adorable baby, so that was nice to see him and the cast actually use their own photos for that scene with the book. Also including a paragraph about how this miniseries again is a great preview of how Charlie will be as Sauron in season 2 and beyond of "Rings of Power". But again so happy with this and the did so well with it.

I cried multiple times first when Alice finally got away from Dylan and reunited with June and Twig. Then again when she finally met her little brother Charlie!!! It hit close to home for me as my little brother is one of my best friends and I can't imagine my life without him in it. So happy the siblings got that and Alice finally knows the truth about everything including her sister Gemma, and having Sally and John as well as Candy and Twig in her life now (and she kept the dog, but if I'm remembering right I think John died in the book so I'm glad they changed that). Then I cried again after June died and that letter she left her making amends and how much she did love her. I lost one of my grandmothers earlier this year so it brought that back for me too, and my other one is sickly with dementia too, so it was emotional.

That brings me to the part the show didn't have at the end and how it took another time jump revealing that Alice became an author and one of her books was about her past and to help other survivors of domestic violence. The show's ending alluded to it and that she was going to do it but the book actually revealed it and that she stayed close with her brother and the Morgans too.

Then for us Charlie Vickers fans the LOTR show "The Rings of Power" picked the perfect actor to play Sauron as we got another flashback here too and how could easily switch from normal to violent like that, and almost having two personalities. Also getting the reveal that Agnes was the one who killed Clem not Alice. Then Alice revealed to her brother Charlie that their dad wasn't always bad and had good in him, especially with his artist abilities. It seemed so similar to something Galadriel's daughter Celebrian would say in one of our fics where Sauron/Halbrand is her biological father. I'm really looking forward to seeing Charlie fully as Sauron now and this felt like a great preview for it.

Really hope they submit this show for some awards. It being from Australia it'll mostly be there but could get some Emmy noms, especially for their international Emmy Awards which is separate from the main US one.

[sotwk]

Ok, just wanna ask a question don't need to think hard to answer this. But, you say that Thranduil don't show vulnerability to his sons mean vulnerability WHEN he's sad or you mean vulnerability to ALL emotions. Just wanna ask that really, even though vulnerability to all emotions is already being 'debunk' by Thranduil being angry in front of his sons(angry is an emotion, therefore it was vulnerability too. Angry can be used by our enemy to defeat us if we show it and we can't use our anger properly).

In your world it seems that Thranduil is like Kratos( God of War(2018)), they both so 'distant' to their child but i have no doubt that they love their child. I really love to see(IF) Thranduil going to open up to his sons, like Kratos open up to his son because omg GoW 2018 story is so good! Kratos and Atreus relationship from start to end and their growth is perfection.

Note : i'm sorry to call out God of War(2018) out of nowhere, but i can't help it. Kratos(in 2018 game) and Thranduil personality would be match up if Thranduil decide to open up and show 'vulnerability' to his sons like Kratos in GoW 2018 and GoW Ragnarok. Anyway i started rumbling again😅

But yeah i'm sorry to bring GoW to you if you don't know and see those game and story yet.

Eep! God of War!!! While I'm not a gamer, I played a few favorites back in my pre-Mommy days, and God of War happened to one of them. It was a long time ago though, GoW II and Chains of Olympus, to be more specific! And I only played it sporadically, never even finished the story or anything.

So, I am familiar with Kratos, but I wasn't aware they've given him a son in the storyline! (Yep, very out of touch.) That's amazing to me, since I always envisioned him as pure vengeance and rage. Parenthood can really change a person, though, and I speak from experience.

As for Thranduil, when I say he takes care not to show vulnerability or weakness in front of his sons, it's both due to pride and with the intention of "protecting" them, however misguided that notion might be. However, this does not mean Thranduil is cold or emotionally distant towards his sons; even when they are adults, Thranduil does not shy away from showing his love for them in words and actions. And when they were children--goodness, Thranduil was Mr. Dad! The princes have many memories of laughing and playing with their father. As grown ellons, they all still hang out and do stuff together.

As for showing emotions other than sadness/fear, such as anger, Thranduil's façade does start to show cracks as the Third Age progresses and his kingdom and family suffer more and more. The scene from "A Stab to the Heart" just shows the start of it. Whether he wills it or not, Thranduil starts to show his sons, and even others outside his innermost circle, that he does have emotional "weaknesses", and his family, but his wife in particular are chinks in his armor.

Did Sauron and his Dol Guldur minions realize this and thus exploit it by targeting the Elvenqueen and their sons in an attempt to cripple or even crush the Elvenking? One hundred percent.

And it almost worked. Almost.

Thank you for the ask and for sharing your thoughts, @lemonivall!

[aylen-san]

The Angbandi Misadventures of Finrod and Caranthir

A special atmosphere always reigned in the dark and damp corridors of Angband. Here, under the arches of the ancient fortress, many creatures spent their eternal days, each of them engaged in their own dark affairs. But recently an amazing story happened here, in the center of which were two captives - Finrod Felagund and his cousin Caranthir.

They sat in one of the cages, the grinding of metal and the ominous laughter of orcs were heard around them. Finrod, for all his wisdom and nobility, tried to remain calm and even find a kind of pleasure in it.

- Well, Caranthir, how do you like your new home? “Finrod, leaning his elbows on the cold bars, tried to defuse the situation.

“How can I tell you, cousin,” Caranthir sighed heavily, looking at the web, decorated with diamonds from the terrifying children of Ungoliant. “It feels like they invited me to a party and then forgot to let me out.”

At that moment one of Morgoth's dark servants approached the cage, Mayron, commonly known as Sauron. He was in a great mood, because he had just completed his new project - the ventilation of Angband, which, however, accidentally dug a tunnel to the other side of Arda.

- Oh, hello, gentlemen elves! How do you like our apartments? - He smiled, tilting his head to the side.

— Apartments? — Caranthir asked gloomily. “Are you sure it wasn’t Manwe who hit you on the head?” There's not even a chandelier here!

“Ah, well, the chandelier is a fixable matter,” Sauron waved his hand. - But look at the web! Exclusive moss! These are true works of art!

Finrod chuckled, but before he could say a word, Sauron continued:

— By the way, we have news here: Manwe divorced Varda. They say that because of him, the stars are scattered throughout Angband. Ventilation, you know, works in both directions.

Caranthir raised an eyebrow.

- Are these really stars? - Finrod spoke up. - I think it's dandruff. Glowing and hot.

Sauron hesitated, unable to find anything to respond to such an apt remark. However, Finrod decided to change the topic so as not to bring the situation to the point of absurdity.

- Listen, Myron, what about taxes here? Here we are with Karantir We thought maybe we’d start a local budget. Karantir even prepared the necessary documents for this.

Sauron sighed in irritation.

- documentation? Oh, how is it...Noldor! First they create Silmarils, then the tax system. But, you know, Finrod, I like it. Maybe let's start with something simple? For example, a mortgage payment.

— For what mortgage? - Caranthir was surprised.

“For the one you take by staying here,” Sauron grinned. “Now everything here is according to the law.” Here is a piece of paper with a seal, indestructible, like The Silmarils.

Finrod, trying to hold back a smile, shook his head and almost twirled his finger at his temple.

- Well, if that’s the case, then it’s time to have a housewarming party! We will come with the whole company: the Lord on a mobile throne, a detachment of balrogs, a squadron of dragons led by Onkalogoshy“The first punitive regiment of orcs... and me, with my little dragon,” Sauron thought, imagining this picture.

- What a company!

“Great,” he finally said. — Just keep in mind that we have high fees for utilities. Drafts and dampness are to support the life of the dark ones. And the heating, you know, comes from volcanoes.

Caranthir sighed, realizing that they couldn’t get out of this fun so easily. New adventures and negotiations with the dark rulers awaited them, but one thing was clear: it would not be boring in Angband.

Finrod and Caranthir had already begun to get used to their new position. Moreover, Sauron, as it turned out, was a lover of all sorts of adventures and knew how to find funny solutions to the most unexpected problems. But one thing was clear: they were definitely not in danger of boredom.

On the day when the official "improvement work" of Angband began, Finrod and Caranthir watched the bustle of dark creatures. Balrogs swept the corridors with their fiery whips, dragons altered the ventilation, and orcs, with an important air, carried documents to the new office.

Finrod smiled as he looked at Caranthir.

- You know, you can put on a good show here. Imagine, "Anngband Evenings with Feanor." Let him show his tricks with pebbles.

Caranthir laughed at the sight.

- Yes, Feanor as the host! And you should definitely invite Ungoliant as a judge to the web competition. She's a master at this.

Sauron, hearing their conversation, approached with interest.

- What do you mean? Are we planning a new entertainment project here?

Finrod nodded.

- Yes, Myron. We thought, why not do something like "Angband Evening Shows"? Let the dark creatures have fun and compete. You'll see that there will be fewer cracks.

Sauron thought.

- And what? Not bad idea. So, I write down: “Angband evenings with Feanor”, web competitions, tricks with pebbles... What else?

Caranthir raised his hand.

- Songs and dances! Let the orcs show their talents. And dragons can be allowed into light shows. Vaughn Cancer can put on a real fire show!

Finrod added:

— And there must be a section of poetry readings. I personally I read it his poems about the golden times of Beleriand.

Sauron chuckled.

- Excellent, gentlemen. So let's do it. I think the Lord will like it. He hasn't seen a good performance in a long time.

At that moment, a group of goblins ran down the corridor, carrying a huge roll of duct tape. Finrod watched them with curiosity.

- What is it?

Sauron waved his hand.

- Oh, Manwe came up with it. An attempt to mend the cracks in Arda. We're still hoping that duct tape will help.

Finrod and Caranthir looked at each other and laughed. Meanwhile, deep in Angband, preparations began for the big show. For the first time in a long time, there was an atmosphere of anticipation of a holiday.

The day has come"Angband evenings with Feanor." All the inhabitants of the fortress gathered in the huge hall. Balrogs took places along the walls, dragons sat on the balconies, orcs crowded around the stage, and in the center of the hall, on a special podium, sat Morgoth in his mobile throne.

Sauron, in a shiny black suit, walked onto the stage and took the microphone.

- Ladies and gentlemen, dark creatures and terrible creatures! Welcome to the first Angband Evening Show! Today we are waiting for amazing performances, competitions and, of course, our special guest performance - Feanor and his magic stones!

The hall exploded with applause and roars. Finrod and Caranthir sat in the front row, smiling and enjoying the spectacle. Soon Feanor himself appeared on the stage, dressed in a bright suit and with a bag full of multi-colored stones.

- Good evening, Angband! - he announced loudly. - Today I will show you how to create magical lamps and incredible decorations!

While Feanor demonstrated his tricks, Ungoliant sat on the jury, evaluating the webs that her children wove. The orcs sang their songs and the dragons arranged fire show, illuminating the hall with bright flashes of fire.

Lord Morgoth, despite his usual gloom, seemed pleased. He even applauded several numbers, especially when Finrod read his poems.

The evening ended with a grandiose light show from Cancer, who released a huge ring of fire into the sky of Angband, symbolizing the eternal power and beauty of the dark art.

Finrod and Caranthir smiled as they left the hall.

“You know, Finrod,” said Caranthir, “perhaps it’s not so bad that we were captured.” We've made Angband a little more fun.

Finrod nodded.

- Yes, cousin. Perhaps we actually did our part. Now, let's go and see how our plan for the improvement of Angband is progressing.

And they, laughing, went to their temporary apartments, preparing for new adventures in this amazing, albeit dark, corner of Arda.

After the success of the first Angband Evening Show, Finrod and Caranthir became the real stars of the dark fortress. Their idea for the show proved so popular that Lord Morgoth even ordered it to be made a weekly show.

The day after the holiday, Finrod and Caranthir gathered in their new “office” - a small room with windows overlooking the abyss. Here they planned the next events, discussed new ideas and addressed complaints from local residents.

“Caranthir,” Finrod began, “we need something special for the next show.” How about a cooking competition? Let the orcs show off their culinary talents.

Caranthir thought about it.

- Sounds good. But who will judge? I don't think many people will agree to try orc dishes.

Finrod smiled.

- Think, Glauring agree. He has a stomach of steel. In addition, he loves all sorts of exotic dishes.

At that moment, the door burst open and Sauron burst into the room. He looked nervous and a little disheveled.

- Guys, we have a problem! - he said, breathing heavily. — Vladyka found out that you are going to organize a culinary competition. He wants to participate, but there is one “but”.

- What's happened? - asked Finrod.

Sauron lowered his voice.

— He demands that all dishes be prepared from ingredients that he personally approves. And he has already chosen the main contestant - Ankalagoshu.

Karantir whistled.

— Cancer? Cooking dragon? It will be a spectacle.

Finrod, realizing the seriousness of the situation, sighed.

- Okay, we'll figure something out. The main thing is that everything goes smoothly.

The day of the next show arrived. The hall was decorated to match the culinary festival: the tables were covered with black tablecloths, cobwebs hung on the walls, and in the center there was a huge kitchen, specially equipped for the participants.

First on stage Cancer. In his paws were huge pots and pans. Orcs followed him, carrying ingredients approved by Morgoth.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sauron began, acting as the host, “welcome to our culinary competition!” Today our participants will show their culinary skills, and they will be judged by none other than Glauring himself!

The hall exploded with applause. Finrod and Caranthir watched from the wings, hoping that everything would go smoothly.

Cancer began his speech. He deftly juggled the ingredients, releasing flames from his mouth to fry the meat. The orcs, looking at him, tried to keep up, preparing their dishes.

Glauring, sitting at the judges' table, looked pleased. He watched with interest every movement of the participants.

When the competition came to an end, all participants laid out their dishes on the tables in front of the judges. Glauring started tasting. The first dish he tried was cooked Ankala Goshey. The dragon sniffed it, then tasted it carefully.

- Perfect! - exclaimed Glauring. — Onkalagosha, you are not only a master of destruction, but also of cooking!

The hall again burst into applause. The orcs, although they did not win, looked pleased, knowing that their efforts were appreciated.

Finrod and Caranthir, seeing that everything was successful, breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, Caranthir,” said Finrod, “it seems that our show is becoming more and more popular.”

Caranthir nodded, smiling.

- Yes, cousin. But do you know what we need next? Chess tournament between balrogs and dragons. This will be epic.

Finrod laughed.

- You always know how to cheer up. Well, let's go get ready for the next show.

And they, laughing and discussing new ideas, set off to prepare another grand performance for the inhabitants of Angband. After all, life here is never boring when Finrod and Caranthir are at the helm of the show.

Finrod and Caranthir enthusiastically set about decorating Angband, transforming its gloomy corridors and halls. Their goal was clear: to make the fortress not only a terrifying symbol of dark forces, but also a place where everyone could enjoy aesthetics and beauty.

They started by deciding to use the web of Ungoliant's children as silk for decorations. They negotiated a supply of webs with Ungoliant, and soon spools of the material began arriving in Angband.

Finrod, dressed in a work apron, stood in the middle of the hall, unrolling a web.

- Caranthir, just look at this material! It is strong, shiny and surprisingly flexible. You can create amazing things from it.

Caranthir, armed with scissors and a needle, winked.

- Yes, cousin. Imagine curtains of gossamer in Morgoth's throne room. It will look simply gorgeous.

They started working. The web was stretched onto frames, draperies were created from it, and even used to make complex patterns on the walls. The Balrogs, looking at their work, watched the process with interest.

Sauron soon joined them to check on the progress of the project.

- Well, gentlemen, how are things going? - he asked, looking at the new decorations.

Finrod, proudly pointing to one of the walls, replied:

- See for yourself, Myron. We have already decorated half the hall. Silk fits perfectly into the interior, and the patterns give it grandeur.

Sauron nodded, noticing how the web shimmered in the light of the torches.

- Impressive. The Lord will be pleased. But I have one more task for you. The throne room needs to be transformed. It should look so that everyone who enters immediately understands that power rules here.

Caranthir scratched his chin thoughtfully.

- I have an idea. Let us create a great web tapestry of Morgoth in his full glory. This will be the central element of the hall.

Finrod, supporting the idea, added:

— And around the tapestry you can hang lamps made from our new “elven light bulbs.” Let the light emanate from the web, creating a feeling of mystical radiance.

Sauron nodded approvingly.

- Then get started. You have everything you need. I'll be back to see the results.

Finrod and Caranthir worked tirelessly. They created a tapestry, putting all their skill into it. The webs wove into intricate patterns, depicting Morgoth with his crown and powerful gaze. Lamps were installed around the tapestry, which emitted a soft but bright light, giving the hall solemnity and mystery.

When everything was ready, they invited Sauron to inspect it. He entered the hall and froze in place, amazed by what he saw.

- This is incredible! - he exclaimed. - You exceeded all expectations. The Lord will be delighted. The main thing is not to break Arda in a fit of emotion.

Soon Morgoth himself came to see the results of the work. His usually stern face softened for a moment as he saw the new look of the throne room.

“You have done a great thing, Finrod and Caranthir,” he said. “Your skill is admirable.” Now this hall truly reflects my power and greatness.

Finrod and Caranthir, standing side by side, bowed modestly. They knew that their work not only beautified Angband, but also helped to establish, albeit temporary, peace between the light and dark forces. And who knows what other amazing projects await them ahead in this gloomy, but now beautiful corner of Arda.

Finrod and Caranthir, after completing the decoration of the throne room, decided to explore the far corners of Angband, which were rarely visited even by the inhabitants of the fortress themselves. In one of the tunnels they came across an old ventilation shaft leading to uncharted depths.

- I wonder where this leads? — Caranthir said thoughtfully, standing at the edge of the shaft and looking down.

Finrod, always ready for adventure, smiled.

- Let's check. Who knows what we might find. Maybe this is the path to new treasures or a secret exit.

They began to descend the shaft, which seemed to go deeper and deeper. Soon they found themselves in a small cave, the walls of which were covered with strange glowing moss.

“This must be the ventilation system,” Finrod suggested, feeling the walls. - But why is it needed here, in such depths?

Caranthir noticed a narrow tunnel leading further.

- Maybe we should go this way? He looks interesting.

They continued on their way until they reached a room with an unexpectedly high arch, behind which an unusual light could be seen.

-What kind of light is this? - Caranthir was surprised.

Finrod, cautiously approaching, noticed that the light was coming from behind the arch, where the air seemed transparent and unusually cold.

“I think we should move on,” he said. “But be careful, something is clearly unusual here.”

They walked through the arch and felt their bodies become lighter. After a few steps, they discovered that they were not touching the floor, but were slowly floating in the air.

- Is this... weightlessness? — Caranthir said stunned, making clumsy movements in the air.

Finrod, trying to maintain his balance, laughed.

- Looks like it. Who would have thought that there were such places in Angband.

They floated in zero gravity, trying to understand how this was possible. They soon noticed that the room ended with a huge window looking out into space. Behind him could be seen the stars and endless darkness.

“We are at the edge of the world,” Finrod said in shock. - This must be a spacewalk.

Caranthir, still not believing his eyes, shook his head. Even he was amazed.

- How is this possible? What an incredible place. But what now?

Finrod, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, began to think.

“I think we should explore this place.” Who knows what secrets are hidden here.

They began to explore the room, discovering many strange and wonderful things. infatuationthose who went there withby chance: artifacts that clearly belonged to other worlds, records in unknown languages and star charts.

“This is incredible,” said Caranthir. “It looks like there was once a scientific base here that studied space.”

Finrod, having read one of the entries, nodded.

- Looks like it. It talks about traveling beyond Arda and exploring other worlds. Perhaps these ventilation shafts were part of a system that communicated with space.

At that moment, Sauron entered the room, looking extremely pleased.

“I see you found our little secret,” he said with a smile. “This is an old laboratory, built before the fall of the Lord. Here they studied space and the possibilities of traveling beyond it.

Finrod and Caranthir exchanged glances.

- So what now? - asked Caranthir.

Sauron, still smiling, approached them.

“Now we can use this place for our purposes.” Imagine: exploration of other worlds, new technologies and knowledge. And you, my dear prisoners, can become part of this great adventure.

Finrod, inspired by Sauron's words, nodded.

- We agree. Let's explore this place and find out all its secrets.

After Finrod and Caranthir set off on their space adventure, Angband breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time. Life in the fortress became calm again, if one can say so about a place where fires blaze everywhere, dragons roar and hordes of orcs march.

The Balrogs, sitting in the throne room, discussed the latest news.

“They're finally gone,” one of them said, sipping his fiery drink. “These elves with their ideas and decorations just drove me crazy.”

“Yes, now at least you can calmly walk along the corridors without tripping over new curtains or lamps,” agreed the other, taking a sip from his goblet.

Sauron, sitting on the throne temporarily while Morgoth was busy with his dark affairs, smiled contentedly.

- Everything goes according to plan. No more surprise projects or decorations. Now we can focus on our real goals.

But the calm did not last long. A few weeks later, when everyone had already become accustomed to the new order, something unexpected happened again in Angband.

Caranthir, also removing his helmet, added:

One evening, as Sauron was checking his notes, the door to the hall burst open, and Finrod and Caranthir appeared on the threshold. They were wearing strange suits that resembled spacesuits, and behind their shoulders were huge backpacks full of unknown instruments.

- We have returned! - Finrod exclaimed joyfully, tearing off his helmet and looking around the hall. — We have a lot of amazing news for you!

Caranthir, also removing his helmet, added:

“We found a whole galaxy full of resources and opportunities. This is simply incredible!

The hall froze in silence. Balrogs, dragons and orcs stared at the elves with genuine amazement and horror. Sauron, having difficulty restraining his emotions, rose from his throne.

- How did you... get back? - he asked, trying to look calm.

Finrod and Caranthir, not paying attention to the confusion of those around them, began to lay out their finds on the table.

“We have discovered new materials that can strengthen the walls of Angband,” Finrod explained, showing strange metal plates. “And these devices can generate energy that far exceeds all our sources.”

Caranthir, waving a strange device, added:

- And that is not all. We have developed new ventilation systems that will provide an ideal climate in any part of the fortress. Even in the throne room there will be no more drafts!

Sauron, realizing that it would be impossible to avoid new changes, sighed and looked at his comrades.

- Well, it looks like we'll have fun again.

So, Finrod and Caranthir set to work again, transforming Angband with their new ideas and technologies. And although the dark inhabitants of the fortress sometimes dreamed of the former peace, they could not help but admit that with the return of the elves their life had become much more interesting. A It would be better if they didn’t return it at allis.

[thranduilswifesblog]

Alternative ending where Halbrand not only torments Galadriel's mind, but also takes our beloved baby, Elrond. As his hostage

.

.

.

This fict took me like one week, and shout out for @lazyoswald for help me and answered my question! Your headcanons really helps me! 💙💙 @starlady66 still waiting for you 👀💙💙💙

Elrond pulled Galadriel out of the water "Galadriel, it's me Elrond!"

"Prove it. When did we first meet?!" Galadriel demanded

"Sea side, when I'm first orphan. You gave me water" Elrond tried to pull the dagger in Galadriel's hand

"Elrond...." Galadriel called weakly. Galadriel rested her forehead on Elrond's

"Celebrimbor, where is he?" Galadriel asked

"In the workshop, with the high king. He's almost done, your friend Halbrand is also there" Elrond answered

"NO!" Galadriel ran fast

"Galadriel! Wait!" Elrond chased after her

Galadriel stopped Elrond "whatever happens don't go in there. Call the troops in here, ask Eryn Gallen for help" Galadriel ordered

"Galadriel, what exactly is going on?" Elrond asked worriedly

"Just do it!" Galadriel pulled Elrond's sword from his waist "I borrow this"

Elrond was startled "Gala-"

"Go, hurry!" She whispered, but in a commanding tone

Galadriel burst in. "EVIL!" She brandished her sword at Halbrand

Gil Galad, and Celebrimbor were shocked

"Get away from him!" Galadriel shouted "he is Sauron!" Galadriel jumped up and slashed at Halbrand with her sword.

Halbrand parried the sword with his bare hands, as if the sword was nothing "that fast, Luthien's grandson must be the one who freed you" He smiled, then threw Galadriel away

Gil Galad quickly took Aeglos and tried to stab Halbrand with the blade, but again Halbrand fended him off, and their eyes met "trust me, Ereinion. I will be the reason for your death"

Gil Galad glared, he then kicked Halbrand in the stomach, and made him step back towards the door.

He stared at Celebrimbor,

Celebrimbor secured the gemstones in his hands

"Celebrimbor, give it to me or I swear I will end your life in the most miserable way"

Elrond broke down the door

"Fool, Elrond! Go!" Galadriel shouted

Sauron looked at him with a sharp gaze. In a split second Sauron was already in front of him, and gripped his neck tightly.

Galadriel and Gil Galad stepped forward

"Ah no no. Take a step forward and the sound you will hear next is me breaking his neck" Sauron tightened his grip on Elrond

"you harm a hair on his head and I’ll kill you and cut you into tiny little pieces and feed you to the pigs myself" Gil Galad threaten

"You are not in a place to threaten, Ereinion" Halbrand then looked at Elrond "peredhel, son of Eärendil, son of Maglor, one of the founders of Numenor..." He smiled "you can be very useful to me"

Halbrand then looked at Galadriel, Gil Galad, and Celebrimbor at the same time. His eyes turned orange and blood red. And the last thing the three of them remembered was Elrond yelling "NO!" Before the darkness takes over

.

.

.

.

Halbrand arrived in southland, or as it is now called Mordor. He smiled contentedly, behind him was a carriage he stole from Eregion, and was somehow able to climb up the barren hill.

Inside the carriage, Elrond lay weak, hands tied behind his back, and mouth tied with a cloth. Elrond opened his eyes for a moment, but quickly darkness took over him again

.

.

.

Meanwhile, in Eregion. Gil Galad hit the table with great force, his face turned red and his eyes widened as he stared at everyone in the room

"GALADRIEL! HOW COULD YOU BRING SAURON HERE, AND NOW HE TOOK ELROND WITH HIM!" Gil Galad shouted

"He tricked me, high king. I met him, he saved me. And-"

"And what!" Gil Galad cuts in "you missed the ship to sail to Valinor and this is what you do?!"

"You forced me to go sailing!" Galadriel raised her voice "you are the one who wants to throw me away, when you know that evil is still out there!" Galadriel snapped

"The evil is still out there, and you brought him in!" Gil Galad hit the table again. Gasping for breath, he then sat limply in the chair behind him "Galadriel, Elrond is like a son to me, believe it or not. I have always considered him that way. "Gil Galad looked at Galadriel sharply "maybe I can't beat Sauron, but I swear I will kill you with my hands, if Sauron touches him" Gil Galad then leaned his head on the chair in frustration

This is too serious High King. We can't face this alone This time Celebrimbor spoke

"Then what do you suggest, Celebrimbor?" Gil Galad asked, his mind still wandering wildly

"Asking for help" Celebrimbor replied

"From who?" Gil Galad asked

Celebrimbor and Galadriel looked at each other

"Eryn Gallen" Galadriel said

"Oropher's Kingdom?" Gil Galad asked

They both nod

"You know how much Oropher hates us, Noldorian" Gil Galad warned

"But I'm sure they will help us. And I told Elrond to send someone to ask him for help" Galadriel answered

"Elrond?" Gil Galad was confused

"I told him to seek help and not to go inside. But he was too stubborn and wanted to help me" Galadriel explained "I will check if someone has reached Eryn Gallen, if not, I will go and meet Oropher myself"

.

.

.

Somewhere in Mordor, Elrond was in a dark room. He sat leaning against a pillar, his hands tied above his head with very strong handcuffs. Elrond tried to shake the cuffs around, but they were too tight.

"It's useless" Sauron entered the room in Halbrand's form "only I can open the cuffs" He walked slowly towards Elrond, and crouched level with him and gave Elrond a sharp look "I didn't know, what a fool Galadriel was to bring me to Eregion, I can't only know what you all are up to, but also got to meet you. You have Luthien's eyes"

Elrond looked away

"Look at me, Peredhel" Halbrand grabbed Elrond's chin and their eyes met, he smiled "people call you as kind as summer. Now I know why"

"What do you want? You will get nothing from me, I'm just an orphan, raised into a Herald by the High King. Not someone special, killing me now makes no difference" Elrond said

Halbrand smiled contentedly "You might think so, but I don't. Gil Galad may seem tough on you, but he cares for you, and he loves you like a father does to his son, and on the other hand, Galadriel, one of the strongest, and oldest elves, loves you. like a mother,and Númenor. You and your twin are the founders of Númenor. They certainly wouldn't stand idly by when they found out their ancestry was in my hands, right? Lord Elendil would have done anything to save you, then you also befriended the dwarven prince, and they deliberately awaken something that belongs to me. And Durin will gladly give his most valuable treasure if it concerns his best friend "

Elrond was surprised "how do you know all this, and what are the dwarves doing? What did they accidentally wake up?" Elrond asked in surprise

"A very ancient creature, who will answer all my orders"

"How-"

"You're probably wondering how I got to do all of this. But what if I told you that you guys won't fade away, the fallen leaves were my doing, Galadriel was meant to find my old base, and Gil Galad told you to go find Mithril? ?" Halbrand sat down on the floor "what if I told you I've been around you guys for a long time, I was the one who told your High King about Mithril, and made the dwarves dig deeper into their mines."

"Who are you?" Elrond asked in surprise

Halbrand smirked "I have many names, but your High King, call me Annatar"

Elrond pulled at the chain roughly "I swear, I will throw you into your own crater!" Elrond threatened

"That oath won't be kept, Peredhel" Halbrand grabbed Elrond's chin again "and then how am I supposed to use you now" He said

should i continue this?

I'm not good at romance, but I'm good at comfort, sad, angst, and fantasy stories. So if you like it I might be will continue this fanfict