Wowwwww

An Unexpected Joy

A/N: A bit of Gil Galad fluff... making Gil Gadaddy a reality ;) Also- look at his haiiiirrrrr its so prettyyyyy

Pairing: Ereinion Gil Galad x reader

Word Count: 1.7K

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Your steps are light as you tread through the dimmed corridors of the camp, the night’s quiet punctuated by the soft crackling of distant fires. The mingling scents of smoke and herbs fill the air, earthy and pungent, the healers’ remedies still clinging to the battlefield’s recent memory. You feel the strain of conflict clinging to you like a shadow, its weight not yet lifted. Eregion has fallen, its people scattered across hills and ravines, each soul a flicker of light in the dark. And yet here you are, walking through the ruins and remnants, driven by a miracle you had only dared to dream, an ache of longing finally met.

The trail narrows as you descend deeper into the glade, down to a secluded grove nestled at the bottom of a ravine. You pause, the sound of water trickling nearby, a peaceful counterpoint to the fury you’ve left behind. The ravine is shrouded in a thick, quiet darkness, broken only by glimmers of starlight filtering through the leaves. You continue carefully, following the faint tracks left by those who came before, your heart guided by an unshakeable instinct. At last, you see them: Ereinion, your beloved, King Gil-galad, seated vigilantly on a low log beside the resting figure of Galadriel.

She lies on a bed of soft moss, her silver-gold hair spilled across the ground like moonlight. Her breathing is soft, a steady rise and fall, each breath a testament to the healing power of the rings. The harshness of battle has fallen away from her in sleep, leaving only peace in its place.

Ereinion sits nearby, his gaze fixed on her with a soft intensity, as though even in this quiet moment he must protect her from unseen threats. His face, usually so stern in the presence of others, is touched by gentleness in the solitude of the glade. The firelight from a nearby torch dances over his features, highlighting the weary lines etched by long years and countless sacrifices. His hair tumbles over his shoulders, dark and unbound, catching glints of silver in the starlight, and for a moment, you pause, heart full, seeing in him the king and the man you’ve loved for centuries.

Quietly, you approach, hoping not to disturb him, but the soft rustle of your steps gives you away. He turns, his gaze catching yours, and in his eyes, you see a flicker of relief, of joy, mingled with something deeper. Here, in this hidden glade, with the echoes of war left above, you find yourself on the cusp of sharing a revelation more profound than any you’ve carried before.

“Meleth nîn,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he turns to you. His eyes soften with an unspeakable relief as they meet yours, and he steps forward, closing the distance in one swift, unhesitating motion. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as if you are his very breath, his anchor in this ravaged land. “You’re here. Safe. How did we escape without a scratch?”

You melt into his embrace, letting the warmth of his touch wash over you, steadying the parts of yourself still shaken from the day’s terror. “By some grace we did,” you say softly, resting your head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart calms you, grounding you in this moment. You close your eyes, breathing him in, and for a second, all the fear, the grief, the worry dissipate like mist.

But as the silence deepens, your thoughts turn to Galadriel, who still lies in a quiet slumber. “And Galadriel?” you ask, your voice a mere murmur against his shoulder. “Will she recover?”

He sighs, a weight in his breath that you can feel deep within his chest. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, the flicker of sadness and resolve in his gaze unmistakable. “Her wound was dark, festering from the touch of Morgoth’s crown itself,” he says, his voice low and strained. “It was… worse than I could have imagined. She has endured great pain, more than any soul should bear. We feared the wound might take her, that the shadow clinging to her would devour even her spirit.”

His gaze falls to where she lies, his eyes softening with a deep affection and sorrow. “But the rings have done their work. She is healing, the darkness lifted, though it took all we had to cast it out. Now, she only needs to wake. It will take time, yet I believe she will return to us.”

You follow his gaze, taking in Galadriel’s peaceful, sleeping form. Her face, though still and pale, no longer bears the strain that had marked it before, her breathing deep and even. Relief fills you, mingled with a gratitude too immense to name. She has survived a shadow few could endure—and in some quiet way, that gives you strength. 

The words press against your lips, a tremor of anticipation and uncertainty, too immense, too impossible to hold back any longer. Yet as they linger, unspoken, a wave of nervousness washes over you. The enormity of what you are about to reveal fills you with both joy and fear, and for a moment, you hesitate, wondering if this fragile new hope should remain a secret for just a moment longer, kept safe from the harshness of the world.

But Ereinion is watching you closely, his gaze shifting from tender relief to concern. He pulls back, searching your face with quiet intensity, sensing the weight of what you hold back. "Are you truly alright, meleth nîn?" he asks softly, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "You look… troubled." His voice is gentle, and his brow furrows, the ever-present protector surfacing in his gaze.

You swallow, heart pounding. "I am," you whisper, voice barely a breath. But the truth wells up in you like light breaking through darkness, and you realize you cannot hold it in any longer. With a deep, shuddering breath, you close the small distance between you and rest your forehead against his, feeling the strength of his presence, his warmth, grounding you.

"There's something else, Ereinion," you say, your words trembling with the weight of them. Your hands, trembling but sure, reach for his and guide them to rest gently over your stomach. You press his hands there, urging him silently to feel, to sense the delicate, radiant spark of life that stirs within you—a light so faint, yet already strong, like the glimmer of a star.

His fingers curl instinctively over your stomach, and you watch as his expression shifts, disbelief dawning in his eyes, mingling with wonder. You feel his breath hitch, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moves. It’s as if the world itself has stilled, holding its breath for this impossible truth. And then, like a whisper only he can hear, he senses it—the faint yet unmistakable light of the fae stirring within you, growing, living.

"A child?" His voice is barely audible, choked with wonder and joy, his gaze filled with awe as he looks down at your joined hands, as if the world has rearranged itself around this single, precious moment.

For a heartbeat, there is only silence, but then realization dawns in his eyes, followed swiftly by the gleam of pure joy. He clasps your hands, disbelief mingling with awe. “A child!” His laughter, bright and unrestrained, fills the air. He pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your lips, as though your happiness has rekindled some part of him worn by the years of warfare.

When he draws back, you can see his mind already racing, the strategist within him awakening. “But what of the battle’s toll on you?” he asks, concern darkening his features as he cups your face. “Are you unharmed? You’ve been through so much—how can I be sure—”

“I’m fine, my love,” you assure him, pressing your hand over his. “Whole and safe. Our child is strong.”

He exhales in relief, though his eyes linger on your face, still assessing, still planning. “Then I’ll make sure that nothing will threaten you both,” he promises fervently. “You must have the best care, a fortified place far from the battlefronts. And when the battle breaks out again…” His thoughts tumble over one another as he strategizes how to keep you safe, listing every precaution, every arrangement, his love woven into each detail.

With a smile, you reach up and quiet him with a gentle kiss. “Ereinion,” you murmur, resting your forehead against his. “We’ll do this together. The timing may not be what we imagined, but together we can weather it.” The warmth of your words and touch stills his worry, and he nods, a faint smile lifting his lips. His hand covers yours, resting over the life you now share.

Before you can speak again, a dry voice cuts through the quiet of the glade, laced with humor and unmistakable sharpness. "I must be more wounded than I thought," Galadriel drawls, her eyes barely open but glinting with mischief. “Or perhaps I’m hallucinating… It’s either that, or I am far too injured to stomach such sickening affection.”

You and Ereinion both turn, momentarily startled, and find her watching you from her place on the moss-covered ground, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. Laughter bubbles up between you, spilling into the soft night air, as relief and joy mingle freely. Still chuckling, Ereinion lifts his gaze, meeting Galadriel’s with a smirk.

“Ah, but don’t strain yourself further, Lady of Light,” he replies, voice dripping with feigned reproach as he holds you tighter in his arms. “It wouldn’t do for you to exhaust yourself any more than necessary. Not all of us are accustomed to such stoic detachment from matters of the heart.”

Galadriel huffs, managing to roll her eyes in spite of her injuries. “I will recover, Ereinion, if only to save myself from enduring another moment of this spectacle.” But there is warmth in her gaze as it drifts between the two of you, a faint shimmer that speaks of her own hidden joy. Though she hides it well, you can see the spark of approval in her eyes, an unspoken blessing shared in the soft, knowing look that only a friend and ally can give.

You rest your head against Ereinion’s shoulder, and for a moment, the world feels untouched by shadows, your heart buoyed by this rare, shared joy. You steal one more glance at your husband, the glimmer of hope rekindling between you. Whatever lies ahead—whatever battles or burdens the future may hold—you know you’ll face it hand in hand, just as you always have.

amazing guy

Winter 1995 - Severus Snape hears a scream in the middle of the night so he jumps out of bed and runs across the castle in his nightgown ‘cause who cares about decorum when someone might be dying

With a special dedication to @frillions 

in honor of thanksgiving, please reblog with a character(s) you’d rather feast on instead of a traditional turkey dinner

The High King and High Queen of Lindon are trying to have some downtime (they've just woken up from a nice long sleep) and some elf walks in.

Gil-galad is understandably pissed off (but trying not to show it) while the High Queen (Itarille, in my story she's Elrond's sister) is trying not to smile or laugh.

A scene from a book I'm writing, High Queen of the Noldor.

@queenmeriadoc (because I think this would fit well with Lady Merry and High King Gil-galad), please let me know if this is in character for them, but I think in her case Celebrimbor is the one who walked in on them

Spoilers for episode 7!!!

Just to clarify to everyone losing their shit about the Elrond/Galadriel kiss that y'all need to calm down, he was passing her a lockpick so she could free herself, and kissing her was the least conspicuous way to do it.

He even asked her for forgiveness beforehand and her face was like "bro wtf".

It doesn't change anything in the grand scheme of things (except make for some really awkward dinner conversations with Celebrían in the future).

I am not mad at it. But I am mad that the leakers were correct.

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

(screams) Elrond!

ELROND appreciation 01/∞ S2E8 "Shadow and Flame"

The king’s place is where he is most needed. The Elves form ranks one last time.

Galadriel misses HALBRAND (her friend), she found him when everyone left her alone. She doesn't miss Sauron (her enemy), who she wants to kill him. Call this a platonic relationship but it's so unfortunate for Galadriel that she was deceived by the one true friend with whom she felt so much likeness. The time she has spent with Halbrand deeply haunts her. She's trying her best to overcome her fear & guilt. What I notice is before meeting Halbrand, she was only focused on finding Sauron & avenge her demised brother but now she has two motives- Finding Sauron as well as Finding Halbrand too. Galadriel not only wants to take revenge now, but she wants him to give her answers, she wants him to pay for what he did to her.

It's hard for her to explain how much she has been hurt emotionally again. Gil-Galad & Elrond are her well-wishers, they don't want her to face Sauron on her own because they understand she can definitely fall in his trap again.

I'm choosing to believe that when Mirdania reaches Mandos, she's immediately surrounded by six tall and variously terrifying Elf-lords all clamouring about her like "Oh shit, here she is!" "Are you all right?" "You must know that wasn't Celebrimbor who did that, don't you?" "Yes, he's as gentle as a lamb, our Celebrimbor, he'd never hurt you." "You're his favourite apprentice - almost a daughter to him!" "That means you're practically family!!"

Mirdania suddenly finds herself with an honorary grandfather and five honorary great-uncles. It's sweet and mildly petrifying at the same time.