#~|| twin sons of Imladris' lord ||~ :: elladan & elrohir

[amid-ice-and-snow]

For: Halbarad | @menelvagor Muse: Elrohir Verse: Empath au Meme: Dissociation starters Prompt: "Don't touch me."

a layer of anxiety covered the Hidden Valley like a low lying mist. noticed only by those who tended to live there. although most disregarded it, for they were joyful, drunk and enjoying the party that was happening. an end to the midsummer festivities. after which the visiting elves would then either return home or go towards the Grey Havens, to Sail West.

however, that wasn't the case for two of the residents. normally found enjoying themselves at the party, tonight Arwen and Elladan were looking for a missing member of their family. having none of the Lord's children in the Hall wouldn't go unnoticed, yet they knew their father would understand.

giggles had both older and younger elves switching direction towards the gardens. although most were open to everyone, there was one garden off limits to all guests and visitors during parties. partly because it was where the Healers got many of their plants from. but also because it was where Elrohir tended to hide.

it was also that particular garden that both the giggles and the anxiety were coming from. the visiting elf maidens froze at the sight of Elladan's non too friendly glare. he paused to glance at Arwen, before stopping near his curled up twin. Elladan heard the quiet repeated words of "Don't touch me." and knew it wasn't good.

"Ar, get them out of here and go get someone. Ro's not looking good."

Arwen nodded and quickly did as asked, taking the quiet group with her. she dropped the Elleths into hall, giving them a uncharacteristically cold look. before going to find someone who could help, preferably Lord Elrond. but anyone who Elrohir felt safe with would be okay in her eyes, even if that meant someone not of their race, like...-

"Halbarad! We, or rather Elrohir, needs your help out in the gardens."

-the Dúnedan she had nearly just run into, which was almost unheard of for her.

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

For: Arwen :: @amarthfaeg Muse: Hal Prompt: Summer, fun & friendship Liked for a Starter call | Rangers

"Ye-no. I don't do parties, you should know that by now, Elrohir."

"I haven't said anything yet!"

"Keyword there: Yet. That means you were going to ask and my answer remains the same. No thank-you." Hal didn't even bother to look up, much to the amusement of the other visiting Rangers. It didn't matter who or what the party was for; she had zero interest in taking part.

The youngest of Lord Elrond’s twins narrowed silver eyes and muttered something in Sindarin about stubborn assed rangers. But he didn't try arguing and left quietly. Too quietly for him.

"He's planning something. Normally he tries to change your mind."

The gender-fluid Ranger pulled her attention away from the paperwork she was doing, only to give Prestadir a smirk. "I'm aware and it won't work either way." That gained snorts and chuckles from the other Dúnedain, before they disappeared to change.

Hal returned her focus to the work she was finishing, ignoring anyone who came to the door of the guest room she was staying in. Although her instincts were on alert mode, in case Elrohir had gone to find someone who could persuade her to attend the party. To which, they would get the same response. No matter who it was. At least, that was her intention.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Elen | @gezelligheiid

"Ada? You have some visitors- well two are. The other's more of a long lost family member, who's just returned home."

Elladan slipped into the garden, followed by Arwen. the latter of whom was trying and failing to stop herself from literally bouncing with excitement and happiness.

[erathene]

Instinct (Part 1)

Summary: Elrond is restless, and cannot shake the unease that plagues his mind. Suddenly, his gift of foresight shows him a vision of his adopted son Estel in trouble. It will take all of his fatherly instincts to patiently wait for news of Estel's wellbeing, having sent Elladan and Elrohir straight into the face of danger.

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Elrond & Estel, Elrond & Elladan and Elrohir.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, symptoms of a panic attack are mentioned but it is not specifically named as such. Plenty of canon-typical violence, including graphic descriptions of blood & injury.

AO3 Link: Instinct

Author's note: This was an unfinished fic I've had in my WIPs for a while and I've been desperately wanting to do something with it, but I was struggling to decide which direction to take it in. I then saw @elrondweek was happening with the prompts "Family and Love", and I decided that with a little bit of re-working and a few new paragraphs, this fic would be perfect for the prompt. There will be a part 2 in due course! Enjoy 😘

......................

Elrond Peredhel stood at the balcony of his study, surveying the landscape below. From this height, his perfect eyesight could see the entire sanctuary of Imladris, of which he was its lord. Gentle silver moonlight fell upon the cascading waterfalls, and the subtle scent of night-blooming flowers drifted from the luscious gardens. The elf lord could also hear the distant sounds of his kin gathered in the Hall of Fire, their voices blending with beautiful melodies against the backdrop of the murmuring River Bruinen. Peace reigned over the last homely house east of the sea, just as it had for the past millennia.

However, Elrond did not feel at peace this night.

The elf lord's eyes scanned the valley, his brows almost knitted together as he searched both the physical world and his subconscious for the source of the unease which tugged at his thoughts. Something was wrong, that much he knew. The feeling of foreboding was completely at odds with his surroundings; it made him grip the carved wooden balustrade of the balcony so tightly his knuckles had turned white, and his heart thundered in his chest as he strained his ears for any sounds that were misplaced.

Elrond sighed softly, letting go of the balcony railing and turning back into his study. The unease was gnawing at him, and it seemed to grow deeper the more he sought its origin. He usually found solace within the walls of this room; the shelves were adorned with his collections of ancient tomes and scrolls, and plush furnishings made the room feel cosy and comfortable. Yet the lack of tranquillity the room offered him tonight was disturbing.

He paused for a moment in front of a painted portrait of his family, commissioned several centuries ago. The smiling faces of his children stared back at him; his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, tall and broad-shouldered, accomplished warriors in their own rights, as well as his daughter Arwen, seated before her father and brothers with beauty more exquisite than any precious gem. Elrond extended a hand and touched the edges of the framed portrait. He remembered the exact moment the painting had been revealed, how overjoyed he was to see all of his children together. Yet a small part of his heart had shattered when he was reminded at who was missing from the illustration; the light and love of his life, Celebrían.

Elrond sighed again. He did not wish to dwell on the feelings that arose when contemplating Celebrían's choice to sail west. He did not wish to be reminded of how he had utterly failed to protect his wife, or of his inability to provide the respite her soul had so desperately needed. Seeing her ship depart had almost torn his heart in two, yet he knew it was for the best. He had to let her go. The knowledge that her love for him would endure any test of time held his resolve to support his children, and the irrefutable truth that one day they would be reunited in Valinor gave him the strength to endure.

Resigning to the fact that his mind would not be stilled here, Elrond opted to leave his study in pursuit of some calming herbal tea from the kitchens. The door to the study softly closed behind him. As he rounded the top of the staircase to descend to the living quarters, his mind fell upon the other person also missing from the portrait; his human son, Estel. The young man whom he had adopted into his home as an infant was not here, having left Imladris just over a week ago to rejoin his comrades in the north. It had been delightful having him back, even if only for a short period of downtime. Elrond deeply understood that since becoming chieftain of the Dúnedain rangers, leisure time had become difficult to come by for Estel, and his forthcoming destiny to become a king amongst men would mean that his ability to do as he pleased would diminish even further than it already had. Elrond exhaled as his hand lightly touched the oak banister. It couldn't be helped. Estel was an heir, and this was his fate.

He had better make his herbal tea extra strong if he was going to have any chance of alleviating his uneasiness.

Elrond's supple leather boots lightly padded the stairs as he descended. It was here, still six feet from the bottom, that he was suddenly and violently overcome by a vision of foresight.

He found himself in the heart of a once-thriving village, now engulfed in chaos. The night air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning buildings slowly spreading through the settlement. Every street was now a battleground; clashes of steel and anguished screams of those fighting for their lives.

Aragorn was in the heart of the chaos. His sword glinted repeatedly in the light of the fires as he swung, parried, dodged and kicked orc after orc. Black blood coated his tunic and ranger's travelling cloak, the liquid catching the moonlight as his chest rose and fell with the exertion of battle. The waves of beasts seemed unending, for as soon as he cut one down, another would take its place.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Nearby, several villagers were equally engaged with the foul beasts. They were putting up a brave fight, but their only means of defending themselves were farming scythes and pitchforks. Aragorn saw to his horror that the group were quickly becoming overwhelmed. He launched a war cry, decapitating the nearest orc and slashing his way towards the group without hesitation.

Before he could get to the group, however, movement from above caught the ranger's attention. A handful of orcs had scaled one of the unburnt buildings, and they were holding bows. "Archers!" Aragorn blared over the ruckus to the group of locals. "Take cover! Now!" The orcs began to nock, draw and release. A wave of tipped projectiles raced in their direction. Several hit their mark, embedding into the flesh of those who had heard Aragorn's warning too late. One arrow found the stomach of the villager closest to ranger, sending him to the ground. Aragorn's first instinct was to race over to help the fallen man, but before he could act, an arrow pierced his own shoulder.

The ranger staggered, pain threatening to overwhelm him. Yet he resolved to continue to fight; there were innocents in this village who needed his protection. He glanced down at the protruding fletching and ripped it from his flesh before he could overthink what it would do to his senses. He let out a roar of pain. The arrowhead had buried itself deep near his collarbone, and blood began to pour from the open wound. He idly wondered how best to pack the wound and stem his bleeding in the midst of this battle.

Distracted, he failed to notice a particularly large orc barrelling towards him. The monster collided with the man, sending his form crashing to earth and his sword flying. Aragorn's ribs screamed under the weight of the filthy orc, and panic started to rise as the creature's hands wrapped themselves around his neck. Darkness began to form at the edges of his vision as he struggled to reach for his weapon…

Elrond's reality came flooding back to him then, and far too late he realised he was pitching forwards, the staircase he had been gracefully traversing now rushing up to meet him. He landed hard, the edges of the wooden plinths colliding with his side. He lost all control as he rolled down the remaining steps, tangled in his own flowing robes and the normally elegant braids askew in his hair. Finally, he came to a stop at the foot of the stairs, his entire form shaking from shock and fear.

Two of the household staff heard the commotion and rushed forwards to their lord's aid. Elrond gripped the forearm of the elleth who was nearest to him, his voice weak and breathless over the sporadic shudders that coursed his body.

"Find Elladan and Elrohir. Find my sons."

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 12 - IT WASN’T FAIR

Synopsis: Ever since the death of the Queen, relations between the Mirkwood and the other elven dwellings have been bad. Legolas gets to quizz Glorfindel on death and rebirth. Thranduil and Arwen finally meet.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: mentioned kidnapping, and as always it's sad.

Additional tags: hurt (comfort coming soon though). I am very bad at tags. Sorry.

Link to the chapter overview

We can plant a memory garden Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

Relations between Lasgalen and the other elven dwellings remained distant for centuries. Thranduil did not prevent his son from visiting Lothloríen or Imladris, but he never accompanied him and never gave his son a reason for his doing so. The Prince took notice of the sour expression on his father’s face at every mention of Elrond or Galadriel’s names soon enough. Yet Thranduil remained in constant contact with Celeborn over the years. He was the first person, apart from his own council, Thranduil reached out to for advice. The King of the Woodland Realm also remembered sending gifts to his niece and nephews on important occasions.

The twins, Elladan and Elrohir, who faintly remembered Thranduil from their childhood grew to resent him. He did not visit them and had made it clear that their father Lord Elrond was not welcome in his forest. Arwen however, who had never met Thranduil, one day asked her mother Celebrían why this King who obviously had enough of a connection with her to send her gifts never visited them. And so Celebrían told her young daughter a story of two sisters who grew up in an enchanted forest.

“One of the sisters was gentle and quiet. She enjoyed walking through the forest in the early hours of the morning and enjoyed music and art. She later fell in love with a King’s herald, married him and became the Lady of a great house.” Arwen’s eyes widened. “But that’s you Ammë!” she exclaimed excitedly. Her mother smiled warmly. “Yes my little star, but you have to let me finish the story.” Arwen settled down again and looked at her mother expectantly. “The other sister had always been different. She mastered every weapon she was handed almost immediately and spent her days training with common soldiers and studying the art of war instead of enjoying their peaceful dwelling.

“When the threat of Mordor became too large, the first sister took care of the people. She gave them shelter and safety in her home. The other sister went to war and on the battlefield, she met the King of Greenwood the Great. It is said that the King fell so deeply and irrevocably in love with her that as soon as he laid eyes on her, their fate was sealed. They married soon after the war ended and she became the fierce and beloved Queen of Lasgalen. But their happiness should not last long, for their Kingdom is Mirkwood, home to many dark things. And when their enemy reemerged, the Queen took up arms once more, and an army of elves chased the darkness away.

“That day, King Thranduil lost his beloved Queen and ever since then, he has not been the same. He grew resentful of Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel, for he believed they could have saved his wife. To this day, he refuses to speak with either of them, and has never even come to meet you. He cares for you greatly, little star, but his suffering is still too great.” Arwen was quiet for a while. “So he will not visit us?” Celebrían shook her head. “Then we should visit him. He sounds lonely.” The Lady of Rivendell smiled sadly. “What a sweet thought my little star. Maybe someday we will visit him.”

Hundreds of years later, Arwen finally got to meet her cousin. Legolas visited Rivendell long and often. Too long and often, Thranduil thought. However, that kept the king well informed of what was going on outside of his Kingdom and so the day came when a letter arrived from Legolas that piqued his interest. He wrote to tell his father that Glorfindel, a Lord of Gondolin, who had died during its fall at the hands of a balrog, had been released from the Halls of Mandos and decided to return to Middle Earth to serve Elrond. Thranduil vaguely recalled some relation of Elrond’s who had lived in Gondolin, but he did not care enough to remember it. The Noldor and their complicated family trees had always annoyed him greatly. Thranduil leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. A few thousand years. That’s how long this Glorfindel had spent in the Halls of Mandos. Thranduil dared to hope again. Maybe it would not be too long until he saw her again.

Legolas found himself going out of his way to avoid Glorfindel. He tried his best to suppress the urge to ask him every single question he ever had about the Halls of Mandos, worried that his questions may bring back unpleasant memories or overwhelm Glorfindel. He continued doing this until Celebrían decided that enough was enough. She spotted Legolas on a balcony, staring up at the night sky. Others merely thought Legolas enjoyed the stars even more than other elves, but the Lady of Imladris knew precisely what constellation he was looking at every single time. Glorfindel arrived promptly when he heard that the Lady needed him. “Talk to him,” was the only thing she asked of the Lord of Gondolin. So Glorfindel did.

He walked up to Legolas slowly, trying not to startle him. “Lord Glorfindel!” the Prince of Mirkwood exclaimed in surprise. “My apologies, I shall give you some space” and began slowly walking away. “Please,” Glorfindel called out, “please stay. The Lady Celebrían told me you might have some questions for me. I would like to hear them.” And so Legolas stayed and Legolas asked. Glorfindel did his best to answer the young Prince’s questions, but his answers were far from satisfactory.

“When one of the eldar dies, their soul splits from their body. It is a pain I do not wish upon my worst enemy,” Glorfindel explained, “but we are bound to this world and will return to it again and again and again. The Halls of Mandos are there so we can heal from this pain. The time spent there depends on how violent someone’s death was, and how they are handling it. I know few who returned from the Halls, but the world is yet young and many died a horrible death.” Glorfindel sighed deeply, as if recalling the atrocities he witnessed. Did he recall his death? “I do not wish to pry, but do you- do you remember how you… died?” Legolas felt stupid. How could he ask such an insensitive question?

“I do,” Glorfindel answered calmly, “but not in the way you may think I do. There is no pain, only acceptance. I had thousands of years to heal. But I remember the city burning, I remember the Balrog. And I remember falling to my death.” “I’m sorry.” Legolas felt bad for Glorfindel. For every elf that ever died. Having to remember your own death. Or even deaths? Technically, there was no limit to how many times an elf could die. Glorfindel gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Your mother will return to you one day, I am certain of it.” Legolas looked up at the stars again. “I heard that Sauron broke her neck. They say that she could not even scream for help, that she could barely even breathe in her last moments. I doubt she will recover from such pain.”

“I heard that she was strong. Unyielding.” Glorfindel had heard stories of the great queen, and the tragedy that had befallen her. Legolas shook his head. “She was gentle and warm and kind.” “These things,” the Lord spoke, “do not contradict one another. I believe that your mother will heal, and that you will see her again someday.” Glorfindel left the young Prince who was still looking at the stars. However, this time, he was looking at the stars not in sadness and longing, but with the firm belief that he would have his mother back. Some day.

In the year 2509 of the third age, a concerning report reached Thranduil. His sister-in-law, Celebrían, had been taken by orcs. She had visited her parents in Lothloríen and was attacked on her way back home. Elrond had sent out search parties, but so far to no avail. Thranduil sent out search parties of his own the moment he received the report and made his way to Rivendell to meet with Elrond and Legolas. The King had not seen Elrond or his nephews since the day his wife died. He had never even met Arwen. Now she was there to receive him when he arrived. At least that’s who Thranduil assumed the woman was. After all, she looked so much like her parents.

Coming here had been a bad idea. Thranduil desperately tried to push down every single emotion he was feeling. “Your majesty.” She curtsied. “Thank you for coming to our aid. I am Arwen, the youngest child of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían.” Thranduil dismounted from his horse. He decided to skip the pleasantries. “What is currently being done to locate and recover your mother? Is your father here? And Legolas?” Arwen was efficient. On the short walk to the parlour, she had filled him in on everything. Elrond was in the Misty Mountains, searching for his wife. Legolas had joined the search. Thranduil’s forces had found Elrond’s forces and were coordinating the search. Arwen kept track of everything and assured the king that he had done everything in his power. All they could do now was wait.

Thranduil spent a whole week in Rivendell. Most stayed out of his way. Some out of respect, some out of fear, some out of their childish principles to be on Elrond’s side of their feud. The King of Lasgalen could not have cared less. Arwen did not avoid him. She was, however, quite reserved, as she barely even knew him. With her mother taken by orcs and her father and brothers, as well as most soldiers of Rivendell possibly endangering their lives trying to save her, Thranduil was technically the closest thing she had to family right now. He did not know how to comfort her, how to break down the invisible wall between the two of them that had just always been there. They were complete strangers after all.

“If there is anything I can do to help you. Anything at all-” Thranduil assured his niece multiple times. Anything. He would do anything so she did not have to go through the same thing Legolas did. They would get Celebrían back, no matter what. Most days, Arwen just nodded politely, thanked him, told him that there was nothing he could do. Until one night, she finally snapped. “My mother was taken away from me. Is that what it takes for you to finally take note of my existence? I appreciate you being here, truly I do. But if you are only here to compensate for being a horrible uncle for the last age, then by all means, go back home to your forest and continue to ignore me.”

He deserved that. He knew that he did. “I am here,” he said, “to keep you from the same fate my son endured. And to keep your father from suffering like I do. I understand that you are angry with me, you have every right to be.” Glaring angrily at him, she rose from her chair and stalked towards Thranduil, who downed his glass of wine in one sip. “You claim to want to help me? Help my father? You hate my father.” “I do not hate your father.” “You hate him. Admit it, you hate him. Because he is kinder than you could ever be. He would never have abandoned you and Legolas and you hate him for it.” Thranduil rose from his seat calmly, towering over Arwen. His furious niece barely came up to his chest and yet he feared she would attempt to claw his eyes out.

“I know that whatever I say now, you will not listen. You want to hurt me? Get it out of your system? Hit me.” He expected her to pull back, storm out of the room in anger, or at least wait to consider the consequences for a moment. Before he could brace himself, Thranduil stumbled back three steps. Arwen had pushed him away from the table with her full force and she stalked up to him again, fists raised. He let her hit him, defending himself only as much as necessary. She deserved to let out her anger and he deserved the pain. The punches came in rapid succession, Arwen screaming out all her anger and pain with each swing. She aimed for his face. Thranduil caught her arm, momentarily taken aback to the point that the enchantment on his face slipped.

Arwen paused for a split second before attacking him with her free hand. Thranduil caught it with ease. She kept kicking and spewing profanities at him until she was too tired to do anything but cry. Thranduil never let go of her. “It’s okay,” he whispered as she relaxed into his embrace, sobbing into his shirt, “we will find your mother, I promise it.” One of the guards burst through the door. “My Lady,” he panted, “they found her. She is alive.”

Thranduil stayed out of everyone’s way. He was just glad they had found Celebrían and that Legolas was unhurt. His reunion with Elrond and Galadriel was less joyful. He paused when he saw them walk past, as did they. They simply looked at him, two people who now better understood his pain, for while Galadriel had loved Anarríma dearly, she had never loved her as much as she had loved Celebrían, and she hated herself for it.

After just standing there for a while, Thranduil just bowed his head slightly. ‘I know your pain, as you now know mine’. Elrond inclined his head briefly and kept walking. ‘I am grateful for your help’. Galadriel approached him. Slowly. Carefully. “I loved her too. Everyone seems to think that I didn’t, but I miss her terribly. I miss her every single day.” Before Thranduil could respond, Galadriel hurried after Elrond. ‘She was the loss of my life. I’m sorry I could not save her.’

Thranduil and Legolas stayed in Rivendell for another week. Thranduil had hoped for a chance to apologize to Celebrían. For everything. However, the Lady of Rivendell never showed any signs of even acknowledging his presence. She did not speak, she barely ate. Thranduil was not even sure Celebrían recognized her family. He was not even sure she recognized herself. “Death would have been kinder.” He heard the whispers in dark hallways. Nevertheless, he had to return to his home. Almost a year later, the king was not surprised when a letter arrived from Imladris informing him that Celebrían would sail to the undying lands. To heal. Thranduil could not imagine how hard it was for Elrond. For their sons. For Arwen. They might not see each other again for a thousand years or more.

For once in his life, Thranduil finally knew what to do. He wrote a letter to Elrond. He threw in a letter to Galadriel for good measure. He wrote to Arwen too, and her brothers. Thranduil decided that he had to be there for them, knowing now that one day, he would get his wife back. His beautiful, loving, happy wife, fully healed from all that had happened to her. Celebrían had survived. But she may never be the same. Anarríma had been spared from that fate at least.

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I am SORRY that it took me so long again, but I have my heart set on finishing this fic. I promise you that I will not abandon it and as soon as all chapters are written, I will put it on AO3 too. Probably with some major editing, after all it has been over a year since I wrote the first chapter. Thank you for sticking with me <3

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[hollowwhisperings]

Justice For Celebrian!

Celebrian is a Character of Absence in Tolkien's Legendarium: we never truly meet her and yet her absence lingers throughout the text, affecting most every major actor of the Third Age (the eldar most of all).

How-so it this? Through this: the devastating grief, unspoken yet doubtless, of those who knew & loved her.

For Celebrian was this: to Celeborn & Galadriel, their daughter and only child; to Elrond, the Great Love of his life; to Elladan & Elrohir, a mother whom they failed to quickly rescue; to Arwen Undomiel, the mother whom she was never to meet again for choosing the Path of Man.

Celebrian was the Lady of Imladris, the princess in all but name to Lothlorien. She was kin to two Ringbearers and yet neither Ring could save her. We know only that she was gentle and beloved, by some of the most crucial players in the events of the Second & Third Ages of Middle-Earth.

Why Celebrian is Absent

Celebrian's status as one "beloved" by the eldar creates a formidable motive in their hatred of The Shadow. For the means by which Celebrian was "absented" from Middle-Earth was entirely of Its Reckoning: in the 2509th Year of the Third Age, Celebrian was "waylaid by orcs". She was "captured and tormented" until she was, at last, found and rescued by her twin sons.

This Fate is one of Horrific Implication, one that Tolkien's Appendix B avoids elaborating upon (beyond her "receiving a poisoned wound").

Fans have Imagination Enough to consider what Hurts could be beyond even Lord Elrond's means to Heal, beyond any of Galadriel's many powers, beyond the careful comforts found in Imladris & Lothlorien. Whatever befell Celebrian by the creations of Sauron, it left her so wounded that Sailing West (& thus Away from most everyone she had ever known) was her only Hope for recovery.

"Justice" within the Legendarium

The Fate of Celebrian was yet one blow more in a long list of Personal Grievances borne by her Kin against Sauron. The vigilance and ample assistance of Celebrian's Kin during the War of The Ring was undoubtedly inspired, in no small part by her Fate & subsequent Departure.

While Elrond & Galadriel would doubtlessly have aided The Fellowship without this most recent grievance to drive them, the otherwise reclusive eldar of Imladris & Lothlorien would certainly have found Celebrian's Fate "inspiring" enough to take arms once more, "postponing" (or hastening) their Leave of Middle-Earth to seek Justice for their Lost Lady.

"Injustices" in Adapted Works

The Injustices that adapted Tolkien works have done unto Celebrian are many: they have erased her very existence (TROP); they have denied her her Epic & Untold Love Story with her Husband (TROP, again); they have Lessened the person she chose to love by making him a Minor Antagonist (both of PJ's film trilogies); they have stolen the kinship between other characters that they share for her existence (PJ's trilogies imply her existence but fail to utilize its possibilities, many of them comical: Elrond is Galadriel's Son-in-Law; Gimli's Championship of "Grandma Galadriel"; Arwen's Looks being inherited not from Celebrian but from Elrond; etc).

The effects the Live-Action Adaptions have had on the Modern Tolkien Fandom are also Significant: Hugo Weaving's portrayal of Elrond is the most commonly known, despite its OOC-ness; the relationships between Celebrian's Family are unrealised or dismissed; the "Last Homely House", a title probably earned by Elrond & Celebrian both, is considered falsely named; the Many Incentives for Galadriel to Hate Sauron & to have ALWAYS Hated Sauron are... forgotten to enable a "will-they won't-they" romance(???).

To erase Celebrian is to remove from the Second Age one of its silliest love stories: she & Elrond were silently pining for each other for almost 2000 years! This surely amused her mother, who had become afflicted with Sea-Longing some few years prior, & caused Conflict at the Court of King Gil-Galad (for, by wedding Celebrian, Elrond's Claims for High Kingship of the Eldar would become even stronger). The politics are, perhaps, the primary purpose of the would-be couple's long silence: audiences do not know as the potential of their love story has had little attention dedicated to it.

Injustice to Celebrian exists also in the mischaracterization of Elrond: what impression must an audience have, afterall, of the one to love & be beloved by someone so antagonistic to those most in need of "The Last Homely House"? The hostility, the begrudging "hospitality" exhibited by the Elrond of PJ's film trilogies tarnishes not only Elrond but the Legacy of Celebrian as that House's Lost Lady.

(It also creates some varyingly minor/major Plot Holes, such as Elrond's ability to host a Council of the "Free Peoples" in the first place. If his hospitality is so poorly to non-elves, why on Arda would he so frequently be sought for counsel? Furthermore, the Elrond of the Third Age has made himself a Healer: how many elves of this Age would ever need his skill?)

More, varyingly serious charges of "injustice" to Celebrian are sure to follow: my discontent began in the rendering of her husband into a petty antagonist; it has been reignited upon my learning of Amazon's choices in its adapting of the Second Age. Mostly, however, my rallying cry is made in jest: "failures" of adaptions to make Elrond sufficiently pretty for his wife; the lack of "Celebrian/Elrond" content in tumblr feeds; melodrama over how many elven names start with "Celeb".

[estel-elrondion]

Elladan and Elrohir, The twin sons of Lord Elrond Peredhel, the doom of orcs and other servents of sauron, menaces that haunt Imladris.

@thranduilswifesblog

[aeonianarchives]

Apple Picking

Fotfictober Prompts: 1 - Apple Picking

Summary: Baby Legolas and Thranduil go Apple Picking With Elrond and Children

Pairing(s): Non

Characters: Thranduil, Legolas, Glorfindel, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen

Elladan had talked to Legolas a lot about apple picking and now finally the young princeling was here at the right time to do it, Lindir normally used some of the apples to make a pie after they picked them and now Legolas was going to help, Elrohir and Arwen were already waiting with Glorfindel for them as they left the house.

"They were getting us" Elrond said as Elladan was pulling him Thranduil however had picked up his son and put him on his back, which made Legolas pretend he was riding his own horse.

"Hurry up" Legolas said to his father kicking his sides making Glorfindel chuckle, the group made their way to the small garden Imladris had which was full of apple trees, as soon as Glorfindel had opened the metal gate and the elflings had grab a basket from him they had all scuttled off in the maze of trees Thranduil made sure to keep an eye on Legolas, he soon found the Elfling who had ducked away from him trying to reach a apple which was to high for him, he watched Legolas jump for it a couple of times before lifting his son onto his shoulders.

"Remember to Twist and Pull" Thranduil said glancing up to his son Legolas giggled

"I know Ada Galion and Feren taught me how" Legolas said getting the apple and placing it carefully into his basket, Thranduil put Legolas safety on the floor, Legolas ran along the row searching for good apples which Elrond's children hadn't taken yet, Glorfindel had been lifting Elladan up to reach some of the apples.

The three grown Ellons soon walked around the corner to see Elladan with Legolas on his shoulders "Be careful, that isn't safe" Elrohir said as he and Arwen stood off to the side observing.

"Ada Will be able to heal him if he does fall" Elladan huffed

"Aran Thranduil Will not be happy if we let Legolas get hurt, you should put him down and ask hîr Glorfindel to get the apple" Arwen said stepping further away from the accident waiting to happen, Elladan took a step forward to stabilized himself not warning Legolas who wobbled on top of him, the prince tried to grab the branch but missed and fell back onto the floor.

"Elladan next time leave highest apples until we get here" Elrond said kneeling down to his son and placing a hand on Elladan's shoulder.

"You are find stop being so over dramatic nothing is broken you maybe a little soar but it's just shock" Thranduil said standing a Legolas who had tears welling in his eyes, his hands where red as he had scraped them but not bleeding.

"I believe we have enough apples for Lindir, we can go back now" Glorfindel said placing the apple the two elflings where trying to get in a basket legolas huffed puffing his cheeks and shaking his head.

"I don't need to go back, I can contuied, it doesn't hurt" Legolas said Elrond turned to Legolas and looked at his hands, Elrond held Legolas' wrists and looked the prince in the eyes

"You may feel up to continuing but we need to make sure this does get infected, Glorfindel is right we do have another apples" Elrond said Legolas sniffed and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes and nodded to the lord, Elrond stood up as Thranduil picked up his son who wrapped his arms around his father's neck and hid his face in his fathers shoulder.

"I'm sorry Legolas, I shouldn't of pushed you" Elladan said Elrohir huffed at his twins stupidity

"I told you something like that would happen" Elrohir said

"THERE IS NO NEED TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO" Elladan yelled at his brother

"But I did tell you so" Elrohir replied, Legolas removed his face from his fathers shoulder and he was now watching the twins in curiosity as they argued with each other, he had stopped crying and was watching quietly.

"Is that what it's like having a sibling, if so I do not want one" Legolas said

"Your not getting one even if you did want one" Thranduil said lifting his son and blowing raspberries into his belly button making Legolas laugh and try to wiggle out of his father's arms.

Elvish Translation:

Ada -Father

hîr - Lord

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Maedhros paused in the doorway, arching a wry eyebrow. Maglor made a face at him, wordlessly demanding complete silence from his elder brother. Maedhros smirked a little and stepped lightly inside, closing the door carefully behind himself and fully taking in the little scene. Maglor himself didn’t move from where he was sprawled on his back on the rug before the fire, a sleeping Elfling tucked against either side, small heads pillowed on his arms.

Maedhros tilted his head towards the bed, raising his eyebrows in query. Maglor craned his head, looking down at the unconscious little figures, then met his brother’s eyes and nodded in grateful relief. Maedhros moved to turn down the blankets on the bed, wondering idly how long his brother had been laying there with the two heavy little heads on his arms.

He moved back over to the little pile of people in front of the fire, crouching to scoop up the nearer twin – Elrond, he thought, although it was harder to tell than when they were awake. Maglor stood, bearing the other twin – probably Elros – over to the bed as well. He slid in and Maedhros nestled his warm little burden into the blankets beside Maglor.

The twins roused only slightly, before curling back into Maglor’s sides and succumbing fully to sleep once more. Maglor met Maedhros’ eyes, and the elder of the two mouthed, Sleep, brother. Maglor smiled gratefully and relaxed into the mattress, as Maedhros silently let himself out the room.

~~~…many years later…~~~

Erestor paused and leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the sight before him. Elrond tipped his head back against the chair to give him a rather weary smile in return. Small bundles of fuzzy blankets and fuzzy hair were curled into each side of the Lord of Imladris, and one foot flung carelessly from its wrapping lay on his left leg.

“Would you like some help?” Erestor whispered, moving into the study. Elrond nodded vigorously.

“Please.”

Swallowing a chuckle, the advisor moved forward, carefully lifting Elladan in his red blanket and tucking the wayward foot back in. Elrond disengaged himself cautiously from Elrohir, shaking out his hands to restore blood flow, before cradling his younger son to his chest and following. Erestor nudged the boys’ bedroom door open with his hip, tucking his sleepy little bundle into the hastily-abandoned bed and drawing the yellow coverpane up before pressing a kiss to the small forehead. Across the room, Elrond was doing the same with his own little one.

Erestor stole to the doorway and paused, looking back. Elrond was quietly unveiling one of the lamps – a nightlight, with images of the moon and the stars and Gil-Estel cut into the metal sides, so that the celestial bodies shone on the wall to watch over their small charges. A gentle brush of a long-fingered hand over Elladan’s hair, and Elrond came over, silently shooing Erestor out of the doorway.

“You too, my lord,” Erestor said softly as they moved down the hall, and gestured to the door further along. “You need to sleep too. Go.”

Elrond paused and smiled and inclined his head. “Very well, my friend, I shall bow to your wisdom this night. May the stars watch over your dreams.”

“And yours,” Erestor returned emphatically, and watched to ensure Elrond retired into his and Lady Celebrían’s chamber before turning to depart for his own.

[windrelyn]

Could you make some Elladan and Elrohir's stuff, pls????? I 💗💗💗 your art

Thank you!! here are your twin :D

Full: https://www.deviantart.com/windrelyn/art/Sons-of-Elrond-806270967

[illustratorsblog]

✨Elladan (right) and Elrohir (left) are as Lords of Imladris

✨Twins sons of Lord Elrond

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

'Calm down, you're safe' (from Sauron - for whoever you think would be most amusing)

A raised eyebrow was the only response Elrohir gave to that. Given that the Orcs had practically used him for a plaything earlier, he wasn't inclined to give Sauron an actual answer.

@admirableringmaker

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Open Muse: Elrohir Verse: The War is Over | RoTK au

"Anyone seen Elrohir and Elladan? Aragorn's asking for them."

although the War of Ring had ended when the One Ring was thrown into Mt Doom, there was still a lot to do before things could even start to settle. first and foremost: the injured and wounded had to be seen to; the missing found; and the dead recovered.

well. most of the missing were found.

"Elladan's being looked after by medics but Elrohir is nowhere to be found."

it.. was not the response expected and a look sent Saeradan in the direction of the soon to be King. the link between the twin elves had told the elder that his brother was still alive but that was it. no-one had seen Elrohir since the middle of the battle at the Morannon and that worried everyone.

they and the remaining members of the Grey Company had hoped that the missing elf would be found on the return to Minas Tirith. but Elrohir didn't appear. so Elladan sent a short note about the last few days back home to Imladris, including the missing.

[of-elves-and-mad-hatters]

“Linger” Elrohir x Reader Drabble, Lord of the Rings

You watch the young elven lord adjust the circlet on his head. He looks uncomfortable in the muted blue robes adorned with such designs as to befit one of his standing. You smile to yourself, comparing his manner to that of the previous week, out in the wild when he was but arrayed in traveler’s clothes and astride a liver chestnut mare. He was joyous then, aglow with the mirth elvenkind is so infamous for. 

Indeed this son of Elrond is not much like his elder brother, though the twins share many similarities. Both lighthearted and bold, cursed with adventerous spirits. Yet under the confines of Imladris, Elladan blossoms into the peaceful life while Elrohir finds none until his feet breach the threshold of the stables. 

Perhaps that was what endeared the younger to you, leading you to linger in your business here.  You have not lived many seasons yourself,  but ambition served as a great ally in your short life, making you one of the leading horse breeders in the elven world. To meet another so devoted to the animal is always an interesting occasion. This time it also stirs the juvenile whims a handsome face can spark in an elleth. 

Elrohir certainly is handsome, and what harm would it serve to remain in Imladris a while, build new connections, new clients? Another ride in the glade just beyond the sheltered valley, demonstrating the speed of your newly broken stallion; another evening under a green and blue sky painted with the first splattering of stars, hiding shy faces behind your horses’ shoulders, flirting with the care of one skipping stones across the still surface of the water.

[gilathae]

~ Elrohir and Elladan ~ The Twin Stars of Imladris ~ Twin Sons of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian ~ Grandsons to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn ~

[growingingreenwood]

Do you have any headcanons for Aragorn and Legolas's friendship?

I have… SO MANY headcanons about Legolas and Aragorn's friendships, potentially too many to put them cohesively into one spot. (Honestly, I have a lot of headcanons and feelings when it comes to Aragorn's relationship with Greenwood as a whole - but that's for another time.)  

Legolas and Aragorn have a very VERY different kind of relationship than Legolas has with Elladan and Elrohir. That’s not to say that Legolas isn’t very good friends with the twins, because he is, but the circumstances around their relationship is much different than the one’s around Aragorn and Legolas. 

I would say that Legolas became friends with the twins at first due to repeated exposure, essentially. Everytime he came to Imladris, he was sent off with the Twins and Arwen if she was not visiting her grandparents. Legolas cares for them both very deeply, but that doesn’t really change who the three of them are. 

Legolas, the Prince of Greenwood. A Silvan Prince with Sindar blood whose family has fallen and been slain at the hands of the Noldor. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of the Lord of Imladris. Direct descendents of the specific Noldor family that arranged the attack on Legolas’ family.   

No matter how close of friends the three of them become, those facts never change and neither does the slight tension that their bloodlines bring. Legolas can and does trust them with his own secrets and knowledge into his life, but he cannot and does not trust them with the secrets of his people and his kingdom. 

There’s sort of this wedge of forced secrecy between them that isn’t present with Aragorn.

Aragorn may have largely been raised in Imladris, but that did not mean he always had the same opinions and views as them.  A fact that Aragorn began to explicitly express to Legolas on his occasional visits. 

His mind was still young and open to new ideas and ways of life. He just wanted to learn, to understand. Legolas was happy to teach. 

Aragorn spent several summers in Greenwood upon Elrond’s request to learn and train under them, always alone and without his brother's company upon Thranduil’s insistence. Something that Aragorn had been very apprehensive about at first, but quickly found himself enjoying the freedom that their absence brought him. 

Not only in how he could act, but in how others acted around him. How honest they might be in their answers, opinions, and feelings. Over time, the Greenwood elves began to trust him like they had trusted no outsider before, except perhaps Beorn. 

And as he grew and turned into a man, Aragorn never gave them reason to regret this trust. 

Over time he developed the most thorough and complete knowledge about the Silvan elves culture. He learned some of their language, he learned the whistles and hand singles they used, he learned their customes, how to talk to the forest. He learned everything that he possibly could. Including just about every facet of Legolas’ life and responsibilities, and all of the horrors and struggles that came with that. 

The friendship between them is so incredibly strong because they have not just one way to communicate with one another, but several. They have long months spent together. They have developed a common language between them that they both understand the implicit meanings of things that others do not.  

They are really, genuinely, best friends.