Latest Posts by ladyoflindon - Page 7

i'm glad he's alive

Thinking about how VOROHIL FOUND A LADY VOROHIL TO HANG OUT WITH

Love thrives in Middle Earth despite it all

Maglor and Galadriel

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I come here more often and draw special pictures just for the channel

Just to be clear, the elves in question include the Fëanorians, Nolofinwëans, Arafinwëans, Lords of Gondolin, Lords of Doriath, and elves from Imladris.

For whichever category you voted for, please comment and specify which elf you would like me to write for. Feel free to elaborate in the comments what kind of story, like the elements you’d like me to include, I should write!

Thanks a lot, everyone!

I want to write a Silmarillion fic. I love romance stories so it will be centered around a Silm elf and an OC! Comment which elf you think I should write about.

absolutely adorable!

Nobody: Camnir:

⠀😳 👉👈

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits)

Part 2

He had no intention of doing so at all.

But those obligations never ceased.

No sooner had Gil-galad left Linnea’s side - looking back over his shoulder once and very nearly turning around again, seeing her standing there alone and uncertain - but that Elrond was back. They were drawn into a hasty conference with the surviving Lindon soldiers; he had to arrange defense for both what was left of Eregion, as they continued to search for survivors, and for the northern valley. They would all be spread too thin, but the valley was well-positioned. Along with the Elven rings, it would be enough.  

And they were modestly supplemented by Eregion’s forces as well, those that had made it through the battle. He sent two soldiers to Linnea; it was a diversion of resources that he could admit to himself would have been better spent elsewhere, but that beast inside him that had been awoken would not rest until it knew she was protected. If he could not stay close to her, warriors who had survived the siege were acceptable substitutes.    

And as the hours passed, as the sun crawled its way across the sky, as he left Eregion and rode north, and sat and waited for Galadriel to awaken, the certainty settled within him. 

He would court Linnea properly, he promised himself. She deserved that. But the conclusion of it was already as clear to him as day: this was his wife, this was his queen. He knew that with every fiber of his being, and yet, part of him still struggled to believe. 

He still wondered if he might wake up from this dream any moment. 

And he could only assume that Linnea felt the same; she had gone from the peace of Eregion to the tumult of battle to the loss of her family to finding her lifemate - who happened to be the High King of the Noldor - in a matter of days. The world had to feel as though it spun madly beneath her feet and she was moments away from falling.

He should do something about that. But it would have to wait, as Galadriel finally stirred.

As the sun set, the valley was full of stars. 

Golden stars, small campfires in the night, as the exhausted survivors finally found rest. Makeshift shelters had been erected, cobbled together from the army's supplies and what had been recovered from Eregion, and it would do well enough until the morning when they would leave for Lindon.

Some of them. Some would stay, under Elrond’s leadership. The valley was a promising place to raise a new stronghold, and it would be needed for the fights to come. Gil-galad had chosen the sword, but he would not neglect the shield; they would need to fortify their defenses as well as muster new offense. 

Linnea was seated on a small stool in front of one of the campfires as Gil-galad approached, watching a kettle that had been hung over the flames. He was glad to see that she was clean, and had found clothing as well - he suspected her own, recovered from the rubble. The simple dark blue dress fit her well, and the style suited her. 

There was much and more to do. But one task asserted itself over all else, as the camp grew quiet.  

She rose as he stepped into the circle of light, leaving his guard just outside it. His steps had been unerring; the soldier acting as quartermaster had been able to give him a basic location, but his feet had known where to go.

Or perhaps it was his heart. 

Her smile was beautiful as she saw him, and the Two Lamps could not have been brighter.

He couldn’t stop himself. He was at her side before he quite knew what he’d done, sliding his arms gently around her waist - and it was like drawing a young willow to himself, slender and supple, her body curving pliantly against him to fit with him perfectly. Her hands rested on his upper arms and he leaned his forehead down to meet hers and closed his eyes, and he wished that the moment might never end, that he might simply stay right there for the rest of eternity. 

“Linnea,” he whispered. “My lady.”

His lady, and he could tell she’d noticed. She pulled back slightly, making sure to meet his eyes, and murmured back to him. “My King.”

That pleased the great beast. 

He took her hands, bringing them to his lips for a more lingering kiss than that first time - a promise of what was to come, and a reminder that they were in this together. But even as he did, he kept his eyes on hers, hoping that they would say everything that he hadn’t had time for yet. 

“I have heard you are to depart in the morning,” she said quietly.

He nodded, keeping hold of her hands between them. “I leave at first light, with the bulk of our forces. We travel at speed to fortify Lindon. But there are those who will remain - those who are too injured to travel as yet, or those who will begin the work of building here. Many of the survivors of Eregion will stay. And that is why I have come - to learn your will, my lady.”

“My will?”

She looked confused, and he couldn’t blame her; he was fumbling, dancing around the offer he did not want to make. He had spoken of Lindon earlier, and she had seemed to agree, but that had been before the plans for the valley had been laid. Perhaps she would prefer, at least for a time, to stay with the people she knew. Her entire life had been uprooted, and as much as he wanted her by his side, immediately, it was perhaps more than he could fairly ask.

But he would not know unless he did ask.

“It is your choice,” he said softly. “Should you wish to stay for now, I will not stand in your way. I promised you that there would be time, and so there shall be, no matter where we find ourselves.”

The confusion faded from her face, but uncertainty was left in its wake. He saw her lips tremble, felt a shiver run through the hands he still held. 

“Then - you do not want me to come with you?” 

He cursed himself for a fool. Clearly, he knew even less of courtship than he’d thought, to have spoken so clumsily. Everything had been ripped away from her; he owed it to her to leave nothing unsaid, nothing that was not plain when it came to him. Especially when it had all happened like this, when they had met and fallen before a single word had been exchanged. 

“I would have you with me always,” he murmured, breaking the bonds on his tongue and his heart. “Yes, lady. I would have you come with me now, I would have you begin to make your home in Lindon as soon as may be done. But mine is not the only will, and it is your choice.” 

Linnea took a deep breath. She looked reassured, and he ran his thumbs gently over the backs of her hands.

“I would like more time to sort through the shop,” she said softly. “A few days, if that is possible. If I am to live in Lindon now, I would not leave anything behind that might be saved.”

It made sense, as much as it made the beast inside him growl at the thought of being separated. There was no way he could linger; the best he could do was to ensure that she would be able to travel to Lindon. He offered her a gentle smile, stroking her hands again.

“I understand. I shall leave an escort with you, that you might come safely when you are ready…melethel.”

It was an endearment that he had never spoken, not in two thousand years. It felt strange on his tongue and at the same time, the most natural thing in the world. And he saw it strike home, more than embrace or touch or glance had yet done - she heard the truth in his voice. 

“Very well,” she said. “But keep yourself safe as well, meleth nín. For me.”

Meleth nín. Beloved. Never had he thought those words would pass another's lips, for him, and the urge to kiss her flared up. He squashed it again, promising the great beast soon, soon.

“I will exercise the utmost care,” he promised. “And I shall count the moments until you arrive. Were you able to save much from your workshop thus far?”

“A few things,” she said softly. “Some yarns that my mother had spun and dyed. Some of my father's tools. I have hope that there may be more. But the looms were all crushed beyond any thought of repair.”

“We shall commission new, from whichever crafter in Lindon you choose,” he said. “And you shall have a workshop to do with as you will.”

She smiled. The grief had returned to her face with the mention of her parents, but it did not dim her beauty in the slightest. “My lord is kind.”

“My queen deserves nothing less.”

Her eyes widened, and he had to make an effort to stop himself from gulping. Yes, they both knew what was happening, that was plain but still - he cursed himself for a fool once more, he should have waited, should have made it more special, kept his promise to court her and then asked her to wed properly instead of blurting it out like a child -

Her smile didn't change. But tears sparkled in her blue eyes, spilling over and down her cheeks - but when he went to wipe them away, she tightened her hold on his hands.

“I never thought,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “I never thought - and then for it to be you, I…”

He pulled his hands free, cupped her beautiful face in his palms, and kissed her.

Sunlight exploded in his veins at the touch of her lips, and if he'd thought that her face was the softest thing in Arda, it was nothing to compare to this. He felt her arms slide around his neck, clinging to him, and he wrapped his around her slim waist to hold her tight. Yes, this - not the moment and yet exactly the moment, this little campfire in the night. His guard only a few feet away and none of it mattered, absolutely none of it. Not when he'd finally found her.

And soon, soon, there would be much more. 

He drew back slightly, contenting himself for now with those few earth-shattering seconds. Linnea’s eyes were hazy, filled with desire, and…oh, and.

“Verinín,” he whispered. It wasn't a question; it was a statement, as if he had asked properly. But perhaps he had; perhaps it had been asked, and answered, when their eyes had met that very first time. 

Betrothed.

They were interrupted by the merry clatter of Linnea's kettle finally coming to a boil, and she left his embrace to tend to it. He watched, eyes lingering over her figure with love, as she lifted the iron pot from the fire and set to making the tea.  

He would deprive her of none of the ceremony, if that was what she wanted. He would have a betrothal ring waiting for her by the time she arrived in Lindon, and then they could talk about it. If she wanted a betrothal feast, he would heartily grant it; if she wanted to wait the full traditional year before the wedding, he would find the patience. A year would be gone in the blink of an eye…and yet, his body burned at the thought of that wedding, the real wedding. Not the feast where they would exchange blessings, invoking the names of the Valar and of Eru. Not even trading the silver betrothal rings for golden ones. 

No. 

After their friends and kin had departed, after they were alone in his - their - bedchamber. Linnea in his bed, his to love, his to wed through the union of their bodies. The act that truly made a marriage for their people, that which was only to be shared with their lifemate. He would be her first and her only; she would be the same for him.

It was not the nature of Elves to dwell on the physical. Gil-galad had not pined for that aspect of marriage; he had more longed for the idea of a partner, a queen, someone to share his life with. But faced with the thought, the reality that he would have all of it - yes, that was ample spark to set his skin alight. 

“Would you like some?” she asked, stirring him from his thoughts. “I often enjoy this tea at night before retiring.”

He stepped closer, intending to accept her offer. The aroma of the tea was pleasant - something herbal, earthy, soothing - and as it hit his nose, his vision clouded over.

“Ereinion. Come.”

He smiles, replacing his quill in the inkpot. The smell alone had told him that their evening tea was done steeping, but he never grows weary of his queen’s voice speaking his name. 

He rises from his desk. Linnea is by the fireplace, lying back in the lounging chair he had specially commissioned for her. The kettle that hangs above the hearth is worked steel, engraved and beautiful in addition to functional. The cups are fine too, elegant porcelain, painted with the golden leaves of the great Tree. For a moment his vision blurs, he sees durable iron and simple clay, but then those memories of the past are gone.

She smiles up at him, lying back and stretched out. Her hair is loose around her, a riot of chestnut waves cascading over her blue nightrobe. It is cold outside, snow swirling on the other side of the window, but in the light of the fire, Linnea’s skin glows, her cheeks pink, her bare feet peeking from below her robe. 

He sits down next to her, in the more traditionally-made chair, letting out a sigh of contentment. Linnea turns over on her side to be able to see him, and as she does, her nightrobe moves, revealing the proud curve of her stomach beneath her creamy silk shift. And before he takes his cup, he reaches out, gently running his hand over their child.

“My lord?”

He shook his head, coming back to himself. The vision was fading, and he stared down at Vilya on his hand. The ring’s power had unlocked his foresight, showing visions of the future, but seldom had they been so clear. More often there had been fleeting images, flashes, cloaked in metaphor that he was forced to try and puzzle out. 

But this had been as if he was really there. He could still feel the warmth of the fire on his skin, the faint hint of cold through the window. 

He could still see Linnea, reclining back in her chair. Lovely, warm, pregnant. Carrying their child.

For a moment, he considered telling her, explaining. But that was a much longer conversation than he had time for this night. And there was something else he could say to her instead, something much closer to now.

“Ereinion,” he murmured. “My name is Ereinion. And it would please me to hear you use it.”

Few enough called him by his name, these days. And Linnea’s expression said she was unsure; he understood, it had been so fast between them, there had not been much time at all for her to adjust the High King in her mind to include just him. 

But she licked her lips, and met his gaze, and smiled. “Ereinion.” 

It sounded just as lovely as it had in the vision, and nothing would do for it but for him to kiss her again. 

He could savor it more, that time. He could cherish the feel of her in his arms, the sensation of her fingers cupping his face and threading through his hair. The softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth; would he ever grow used to it? As the centuries passed, Valar and Eru willing, would it feel different? He prayed not.

He felt her back off, but only slightly - and his eyes were still closed, but he felt her smile against his lips.

“If that is my reward for saying your name, I fear I shall wear it out,” she whispered. “Ereinion.”

He laughed, his lips still brushing hers. “Never, my lady,” he vowed, finally opening his eyes. “Never.”

But as much as Gil-galad did not wish it, the hand of time was marching forward, and he had more to do that night before he could find rest. He sighed, stepping back and once more taking her hands.

“I must go,” he murmured. “I am sorry. But I promise you, in Lindon, there will be time for us.”

She stepped forward, following him, and released one of his hands. In the next moment, hers was over his heart, and he reached up to hold it there. And he could swear there was a warmth coming from it that penetrated even his breastplate, reaching down into his very soul. 

“I understand,” she whispered. “It is not so long to wait. And you are worth it.”

He had no idea as to what he had done to merit this gift, but it had been given to him. And he was not foolish enough to refuse it, or to do aught but hold it tight. 

“Travel safely, melethel. For you carry my heart with you.” 

“And you mine.” She stretched up on her tiptoes, giving him one final kiss. “Ereinion.”

TBC...

My computer is broken so I have to make do with pen and paper with limits what I can do for mah boys but I just HAD TO DO THE QUICKEST SKETCH I COULD DO AND GET THAT OF MY CHEST I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OK YAY

The Fallen Kings

Elendil and Gil-galad

Across the Seas (Ereinion Gil-galad, Rings of Power)

Author's note: My OC, Itarille, is the younger sister of Elrond and Elros. Gil-galad has just asked to court her recently. Takes place way before the events of Rings of Power. Can be read as a reader insert, and either as a standalone or part of my upcoming Tolkien fic series. From @sotwk "Comfort Fic Writing Challenge".

-------

It was a nice day, Itarille thought to herself. She was sitting on the windowsill in her chambers, overlooking the sea. Her ears picked up the faint sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shores. Her grey eyes, so like those of her older brothers, drifted back down to the book in her lap.

Adûnaic, the language was called. From the land of Númenor, Elros' kingdom. She was reading a book about the island kingdom's history with the sea.

“From the dawn of Númenor, our fate has been intertwined with the sea. It guides, it judges, it endures. The sea is always right.”

It was a longstanding belief of the people. Itarille glanced out of the window once more, her eyes fixed on the blue waves of the ocean. It seemed calm, serene, steadfast. Just like how Númenor should be. How the Eldar should be. How she should be, considering that she would soon marry the High King and become Queen of Lindon.

She flipped the page, deciding to move on from the poetic passage. On the next page, there was a portrait. A man, regal, with high cheekbones, gazed back at her with eyes so familiar. His raven hair was mixed with streaks of white, and age was so visibly shown on his face.

Elros Tar-Minyatur, the description below the portrait read. Founding King of Númenor. Itarille hadn't gazed upon a painting or portrait of her brother in so long. It had been too long since his passing, but for her, it felt like yesterday.

The day Itarille had received word of Elros' passing, it was as if the floor had collapsed from beneath her feet. When she'd heard it, Itarille was at dinner with the High King. The news was delivered to him by a messenger, then him to her. When the last word had left his lips, Itarille stood up abruptly and fled. She remembered the look in Gil-galad's blue eyes. Those blue eyes, blue like the sea.

She and Elrond grieved. He did his best not to show it, maintaining the stern facade of the High King's Herald, but Itarille was different. She had locked herself away in her chambers, sitting on this very windowsill, gazing out at the sea which Elros had sailed away on the day he decided to be counted amongst Men.

She had known that day would come, but it didn't hurt any less.

A knock on the door brought Itarille out of her reverie. Wiping the tears from her face hastily, Itarille spoke softly, "Come in."

The door opened gently, and in stepped Gil-galad. As usual, he was the picture of elegance and serenity, clothed in robes of a deep blue, a departure from his usual gold. His gold crown of leaves was nowhere to be seen, and his deep brown hair tumbled down his back in waves.

"My lady," Gil-galad spoke in that velvety voice of his, bringing Itarille's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers, "how I've longed to see you so. This day has been dreadful without your presence at my side."

Itarille didn't respond, her mind still whirling with the memories from Elros, the memories that reading that book had stirred up. Gil-galad noticed her silence, the lingering tears in her grey eyes. He was about to ask if everything was alright, when he saw the Adûnaic book on her lap and he understood.

"You were thinking about him, weren't you?" Gil-galad asked quietly. Itarille gave no verbal answer, only the nod of her head. After a moment of silence, Itarille finally spoke. "O-oh, Ereinion," she sniffled, a fresh wave of tears falling down her face. "I miss Elros."

"My love." Gil-galad pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, they both said nothing, Itarille's sobs speaking for her. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, her tears staining the fabric of his robes.

"Why does it hurt so much?" She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with tears.

"You loved Elros deeply. He was your brother, and like Elrond, your protector. Your closest confidante. It's natural to feel this way about him." Gil-galad exhaled. "It's alright to grieve, melda."

"But," he looked down at Itarille, wiping a tear from her cheek, "Elros wouldn't want you to cry for him. He loved you deeply and would wish for you to be happy. He'd want you to live a happy and long life. So, please, do not weep, my love. Live, for Elros, for Elrond. For me."

Outside, the flowers bloomed. The birds chirped. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shores. Somewhere up there, Itarille sensed that Elros was watching. The grief was still fresh, it would always be, but for now, in this moment, Itarille felt at peace. Gil-galad's arms tightened around her, the High King murmuring words of reassurance and love in Quenya, the language she adored.

Everything would be alright.

All Fanfic Writers are invited! Especially those in a creative rut!

Comfort Fic Writing Challenge: A Triple Prompt Roulette!

Ready to write?

You can pick ANY fandom, character, ship, or length! The end goal is to create a lovely comfort, hurt/comfort, or angst/hurt/comfort fic for your readers to enjoy in the cozy season when we all especially crave that genre!

The challenge is to spin one, two, or all three of the roulette wheels below and to write a fic based on the prompt combos you land on.

This is a game meant to be fun and to tickle your muses; there are no deadlines, rules, or requirements! (And no prizes--sorry, lol!) Spin as many times as you like, until you land on something that inspires you!

Looking for pure comfort and fluff?

Start with Wheel #1! - Comfort Fic Elements

Want to upgrade to Hurt/Comfort?

Add Wheel #2! - Hurt Fic Elements

Shall we crank up the feels?

Throw in Wheel #3! - Angsty Phrases

Special Bonus Wheel for the Tolkien Fandom: Need help narrowing down your choices of characters? Tolkien Race

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Happy Writing! Long live the Comfort Fic! <3

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Elrond you would have hated the Romans for burning Alexandria Library

Nobody's Soldier

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RINGS OF POWER

Elrond Peredhel

Elrond: So what was that about how foolish it was to jump off a cliff with the rings?

Galadriel: I SAID I WAS SORRY OKAY

This made me laugh finally xD

Rob is too precious for the internet 🫶🏽

The Dad Energy™️ in the way Gil-Galad says “Dwarves” when they show up is off the fucking charts 11/10 choices made

Adar had to die because if he, Gil-Galad and Elendil were all in Middle Earth at the same time there would have simply been too much Dad Energy ™️ for the populace to handle. They would have defeated Sauron through sheer “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” force alone.

The Rings of Power | Season 2 | Aug 29 - Oct 3, 2024 Benjamin Walker as High King Gil-galad and Sam Hazeldine as Adar

I want to write a Silmarillion fic. I love romance stories so it will be centered around a Silm elf and an OC! Comment which elf you think I should write about.

Adorable

One aspect of the House of Feanor I’d like to talk about is the idea that they all really love children. Like Feanor has seven sons more than any other elf we’ve ever heard mentioned. You’re telling me this guy doesn’t really love kids? So I like to believe that all the Feanorians are all inherently great with kids and just melt every time they see a child.

Feanor hates his half brothers for the whole Indis thing but he’s the only one who gets away with hating them. Anyone else tries it and they are hit with the full force of an angry Feanor. Yes he hates them but he will also be tutoring them because how else will he make sure it’s done right and they won’t disgrace Atar? And no he was not just bouncing Arafinwe on his lap what are you talking about?

Curufin is an excellent father which he inherited from his own father. Tyelpe also has six uncles who never tire of spending hours playing with him. They all fight for the title of best uncle and Tyelko very firmly believes it is him.

At family gatherings it is understood that no matter your reservations about Feanor’s side of the family if there is an upset child a Feanorian will know how to deal with it. Feanor himself will rarely object to being handed a crying baby regardless of it’s parentage. Maedhros has been the assigned babysitter for what feels like an eternity and his abilities are regarded as near magic.

This does not go away once they get to Middle Earth. The Feanorians all go to great lengths to provide adequate parental leave in their armies and frequently stop round to check in with any new parents to meet the child. They know all the names of most of their followers children and ask about them regularly.

One of the first things that endeared Caranthir to Haleth was how kind he was with some of her younger relatives. The children of the Haladin all love him because he plays with them sometimes and brings them little sweets. His good with children instincts are activated with any child regardless of race and it helps him build relations with other races more easily.

When Maglor brings Elrond and Elros back Maedhros is a lost cause within a month. He knows this s unhealthy on so many levels but children. They’re so innocent and tiny and he’s going to protect them. They are both referring to them as their children within a week.

Elrond inherits this. Erestor and Glorfindel see his adoption problem and immediately think oh shit our lord is definitely a Feanorian.

Absolutely love Mirdania!

JUSTICE FOR MIRDANIA !!!

(I am in love with her and delulu so I drew her with my design of Celebrimbor)

Sauron: Celebrimbor, remember how you said you cannot imagine how it feels to be tortured by a god?

Celebrimbor: yeah?

Sauron: well now you know!

Celebrimbor, with 10 arrows sticking out of him: oh gee thanks! I totally wanted to know what it was like when I said that!

go, daughter of finarfin, go

Galadriel besting Sauron

don't hurt him or else

ROBERT ARAMAYO as ELROND PEREDHEL in The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power — S2E8: Shadow and Light

I'm still so mad about the adar death but I gotta say Celebrimbor-after just being shot with a frick ton of arrows-telling Sauron that soon he will "go to the shores of morning, borne hence by a wind that you can never follow", calling Sauron the shadow of Morgoth and telling him that he's just a prisoner to the rings is peak feanorian defiance and just peak in general

guys I know the last episode was heartbreaking in so many terms but have you seen this dude

So there's this thing called Vinyar Tengwar. Vinyar Tengwar "is a linguistic journal published by the Elvish Linguistic Fellowship dedicated to the scholarly study of the invented languages of J.R.R. Tolkien." And in it is a little something called "The Love-song of Maglor" by Eli Bar-Yahalom

"golden haired as the golden tree."

GOLDEN HAIRED AS THE GOLDEN TREE??????

Sure its technically not canon BUT I DON'T CARE. THE "MAGLOR'S WIFE IS A VANYA" TRAIN KEEPS CHUGGING ON

Best Wishes

I want to say a prayer for our child I hope they grow big and strong and that they become skilled at their craft may they find love and be loved in return, and may they find friends wherever they go,

How about you? what do you wish for our baby?

Me? nothing really, …I just hope they always have at least one brother at their side.

They had so many hopes for their children, and in a way, all their wishes were fulfilled…

For @feanorianweek day 7: the whole family, the animated version.

Mʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅ || 𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I've become obsessed with him

"Little bird! Hold up...you do not know which creatures could be lurking about." Elrond shouted trailing behind you.

"How will I be able to protect you when you are unable to stay in one place for more than two seconds!" He shouted glancing at the wet stones as you seemed to be gliding across.

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you paused on one of the rocks, your fingers clutching your dress as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh yes! Protect me dear Eldron....from the ankle deep water." You teased continuing on your way.

Elrond huffed, following you on the stones, his light and careful footsteps making sure not to even get his boots wet

"I will not be mocked" His voice as he carefully maneuvered across the rocks. "The water can be hiding dangerous things and not to mention it's easy to trip....I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

Letting out a hum, you continued to hop from rock to rock until you finally reached the spot of land dropping your dress into the dirt.

"And pray tell me what dangerous things could be hiding in the waters?" You teased.

Finally managing to cross and step down on the land, he made his way towards you not even thinking about the question.

"well there could be fish" he paused "or a very angry otter maybe, or the most dangerous of all: frogs, you clearly can't take on a frog on your own"

Throwing your head back for a laugh you stepped close to the man placing your hand on his chest with a grin forming on your face."Oh yes! My dear Elrond! Please protect me from the vicious frog. He may hop at me!"

Elrond chuckled, his chest moving under your hand as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Do not under estimate the frog, their looks are deceiving"

The elf warned playfully before his arm pulled you even closer, your chest gently colliding with his chest.

Gaze softening, you let your lips brush across his cheek. "You're adorable."

"and you're reckless" he said, his tone more serious, as he felt your lips against his cheek and his breath hitched and his cheeks began to flush a very soft shade of pink, but a pink shade none the less, despite being centuries old he still wasn't used to the affect you had on him.

Letting your fingers clutch his robe, a giggle left your lips.

'How adorable' you couldn't help but think.

"Since I am so reckless...I bet you can't catch me." With a wink you gave him a playful shove then took off running through the forest.

Elrond could help but just stare for a split second, a little speechless, his cheeks a soft pink as he watched you run off before he snapped out of it the thoughts racing through his mind.

"oh that just isn't fair!"

He shouted as he started to run after you, managing to keep up with you despite you having a head start off of your earlier push and shoving, the elf was determined to catch you.

Your laugh echoed throughout the forest, feet barely touching the ground as you ran, your hair flowing behind you intending on taking him to one of your favorite spots.

The elven lord could only manage to curse under his breath,as he found it hard to catch up to you, the elf was fast and agile but his robes were slowing him down quite a bit, the only thing he was thankful for was the fact the forest was mainly open, so he wasn't having to duck under low branches and weave in-between trees to get to you.

Rushing through the fields, you slowed to a stop nearing the edge of a cliff that over looked a lake. Chest heaving as you glanced over your shoulder flashing him a grin.

"Fancy a swim?"

Holding your hand out for him, you tiled your head to the side.

It took a moment or two for the poor elf to finally catch up to you, his own chest heaving and breath heavy in an attempt to properly breathe, a hand on a tree supporting his weight.

"you...You are a menace" Elrond wheezed between breaths, before looking up at you then down towards the lake below as he grasped your hand softly.

"But you love it." You whispered, your eyes mischievous as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he gently squeezed your hand. "Anything for you, my little bird."

Smile brimming with happiness, you tugged him forward leaping off the edge of the cliff still holding his hand into the water bellow.

A shout leaving his lips, a laugh leaving yours.

He would do anything for you, for his little bird.

Elrond staring at the statue of Feanor falling and watching Celebrimbor's life work being destroyed was just really, really devastating.

He wanted so badly to save Celebrimbor. He wanted so badly to preserve him. He loved and cared about Celebrimbor so much (and it's never really explained why), and not only did he lose him, he lost his legacy too.

It's like everything that was Celebrimbor was gone. And Sauron has his fucking hammer.

Annatar study I did based on a shot from the new episode. 🧡