He Looks So Happy With Himself, So Happy With His Little Bow

His sword was long, his lance was keen.

His shining helm afar was seen.

The countless stars of heaven’s field

Were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,

And where he dwelleth none can say.

For into darkness fell his star;

In Mordor, where the shadows are.

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

Stressful Night (Ereinion Gil-galad, Rings of Power)

Author’s note: Itarille Peredhel is Gil-galad’s queen, and she’s Elrond’s sister. In this story, she’s bothered by a lot more work than usual, a much heavier workload. Gil is the supportive and affectionate husband behind closed doors, a comfort for her. (“Q.”  is meant to denote the use of Quenya, while “S.” denotes the use of Sindarin)

TW: Blood (from a paper cut wound)

Sighing internally, Itarille picked up her quill for the umpteenth time that day and signed the proffered document with a flourish. “Send it to King Oropher,” she spoke, exhaustion evident in her voice. “Make it hasty, or I’ll be receiving a host of complaints from the Greenwood again.”

“Yes, High Queen,” the messenger nodded before dashing out of the room, his feet barely making any sound. For that, at least, Itarille was thankul. She turned her attention to the next document, smiling as she read the elegant script. At least this one was from Elrond, about some matters he’d noticed while going about his duties as Herald of Lindon. She set it aside, deciding that it would be better to allow the High King to read about it as well before passing judgement.

Ah. The High King. Itarille had been so busy that she hadn’t been able to spend time with her husband the entire day, save for breakfast. He had headed out to the Grey Havens to speak with Círdan the Shipwright, and was absent from the palace for most of the day. He’d only recently returned, and from what his assistant, Estedir, had told her, the High King was thoroughly wiped out. She had spent her day taking up his duties at the palace, in addition to her own.

Smiling wryly, Itarille reached for another document. As she reached out to grab it, a sharp pain shot up the tip of her finger. Hissing, Itarille pulled her hand away, only to find a bleeding paper cut. Biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out in frustration, Itarille decided to look for the first aid kit. Alas, she’d forgotten to bring it back to her study after using it a few weeks ago.

She had had enough. With the mounting pile of documents on her desk, and the concern that Oropher of the Greenwood would have another complaint about her reply to him, Itarille had been driven mad. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what exactly she was feeling at the moment. She stood up from her chair and told the guard standing outside the door that she would be leaving the night. With a respectful murmur of “High Queen” from the guard, Itarille strode briskly down the hallway, the hem of her gown trailing behind her.

It didn’t take long for her to reach the quarters she shared with her beloved High King. She stepped inside, cautious of remaining silent in case he was asleep. She had assumed he was asleep, and the sight of him standing by the window, staring at the starry sky above surprised her.

“Melda (Q. beloved),” Ereinion’s smooth voice called out. He walked towards her, intending to give her a kiss. His attention, however, was drawn to the drop of blood falling from the tip of her finger and dripping against the marble floors. It was soft, but he heard the sound as the drop made contact with the marble. “What happened?”

“Paper cut,” Itarille huffed. “I need a bath, can we discuss this later?” Ereinion was taken aback by the intensity in her voice. She shot him a brief glare before heading to her closet to grab a robe and walking to the adjacent chamber to take a bath.

When Itarille emerged, she was clothed in a white nightgown. In Ereinion’s opinion, a vision, like Varda herself. He rose from their shared bed, reaching out towards her to grasp her hand. “You’ve dealt with the wound, I see,” he spoke glancing briefly at the bandage on her finger.”

“I have,” Itarille said. “Can we go to bed now? I’m exhausted. It’s been such a long day.”

Ereinion was about to nod, when he saw the look in her eyes. It was one he hated seeing, the look of utter defeat. “What happened today, my starlight?” He murmured, gently easing her into bed and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I prefer not to talk about it.” Itarille sniffed. Ereinion almost laughed out loud internally; he knew his wife was a hypocrite when it came to matters like this. Sooner or later, everything would spill forth from her perfect lips.

“You know, Oropher sent another message today. He wanted me to sign it and send it back to the Greenwood the same day it arrived,” she said. “And your courtiers, they just won’t get off my back. Insufferable, the lot of them!”

Ereinion allowed himself a small chuckle. “Ah, but you’ve been handling it with such grace, my darling. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s an understatement,” she replied huffily. “There, I’ve told you everything. Can we go to bed now?”

The High King smiled briefly, lying back in bed and opening his arms to her. Itarille snuggled up to him, her head on his chest. She heard the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as she traced her fingers along his arm. “Yes, we can, my love,” Ereinion leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve done so much for me today, helping to take over my palace duties. I cannot thank you enough.”

Itarille’s patience was almost worn out. “Thank me by sealing your lips shut and letting me get some sleep. Shh!” The High King smirked. “You want to shut me up? Why don’t you do it yourself?”

There was a daring gleam in his eyes. Itarille knew exactly what he wanted, but her need for sleep was more pressing. She picked up a pillow and threw it at his face. “Goodnight, High King. Go to bed.” The last thing she recalled hearing before drifting into slumber was the soft laughter of Ereinion.

Her silly High King.

Author's note: Wow, churning out two fics in one day! I'm pleasantly surprised, but Elrond and Gil-galad are my comfort elves.

True but I suppose a lot of people were just shocked at that moment when they saw it

The fact that everyone is talking about the kiss just shows how effective it truly is as a distraction.

It means nothing, romantically speaking. It's a means to an end, nothing more, and yet it manages to raise such an outcry that a lot of people overlook that fact completely even though there are so many clues that it is merely for show. There is Elrond reaching for his brooch and removing it's pin. There is his, "Forgive me," said in such a peculiar way that it simply cannot be about his promise to Galadriel in 2x04. There is the chaste nature of the kiss - a mere press of lips against lips, almost like a child kissing their parent goodbye (though, admittedly, more drawn out). And there is the subtle moment when he presses the pin into Galadriel's hand, and the surprise on her face that follows it.

Nothing about that kiss is romantic. It is a strategic move meant to distract, and boy does it do it well. If half the fandom is talking about it online, then it's not surprise the Uruks didn't catch on either. And that's why Elrond does it. Because it catches everyone off-guard, and as long as everyone is focused on the kiss, no one will notice what is really going on. It's brilliant on so many levels and Robert Aramayo and Morfydd Clark acted the hell out of that moment.

Domestic headcanons: sleeping, RoP edition (pt. 1)

(Disclaimer: I know canonically instead of sleeping elves have those long nightly meditations, but I personally prefer that fan-made version where they can do without sleep/food etc. for way longer then mortals, but this would drain their strength and eventually they'd have to rest either way, so it's better for them to actually have at least some sleep every night)

Elrond

The fandom has collectively decided him to be an early bird, which makes sense considering how much work he has all the time. He would totally be awake at 5-6 a.m., he gets straight out of bed immediately into busy mode. A side-effect of that, considering him being a peredhel - he gets drowsy pretty early in the evening, and if by 11 p.m. he isn't in bed his brain would just stop braining a.k.a. ping goes over 99999 (Gil-Galad find this hilarious). He might pull an all-nighter if duty really demands, but he needs some excessive rest afterwards. He has some nightwear in his wardrobes somewhere, however more often that not he would just kick his day-clothes off and climb in bed as is. Also he sleeps like a cat: gets all his limbs tangled in blankets, kicks in his sleep and drools on pillows.

Gil-Galad

The High King loves comfort and luxury in everything, including his sleep. He has a Huge bed with tons of pillows of different sizes and levels of softness, which he arranges around himself so that not a single muscle would be sore in the morning. He falls asleep immediately and takes some time to wake, allowing himself to wallow for a little while. He has several very well-made and expensive night gowns of finest silk and he manages to sleep so still that they never wrinkle. He also absolutely doesn't snore. Ever.

Galadriel

Considering her boiling nature and how much she has traveled, lady Galadriel is the one who could sleep anywhere and in any conditions. When life gets frantic she would catch as much naps as she can: 15 minutes seated on a windowsill before a meeting, half-an-hour in a tree while others are busy with her bidding, an undefined short break on an ottoman in High King's waiting room while he's somewhere doing something - not to mention how she can fall asleep in any levels of noise around her, but to wake at the slightest wrong sound. Sleepwear is for softies, when it comes to Galadriel, just as sore muscles.

Arondir

As much as he gets used to sleep in barracks or on the road, sometimes he just longs for a soft mattress. Doesn't need to be royal-quality, just a bed that's simple but nice. He gets something sore in the morning no matter what position he takes before falling asleep. Arondir tries his best to hold on to a sleeping pattern, especially when he isn't stationed in the Southlands anymore (it's a bit easier when you're a part of a group of soldiers who all follow same rules as a unit), but he has to fight the fact that he's completely and utterly a night owl, resulting in perpetual feeling of not sleeping his full. Secretly he'd be over the moon of someone gifted him a stuffed toy to hold at night.

Celebrimbor

The smith only has two modes of existence: when he is in the middle of a project he could not sleep at all for several days or nap for a little while just to keep going, but when he doesn't have any immediate work that fills all of his mind - he would very much enjoy late-night social gatherings and entertainments to try and force himself to wake anywhere earlier than mid-day. His room is a total mess, which includes the bed that used to be luxurious when first bought but now has mountains of random stuff hoarded upon and beside it (which also makes it difficult to change bedsheets, and he tends to get angry and annoyed at his servants if any of thousands of his papers are moved, even though he himself could forget of them for months). Celebrimbor's sleep is generally erratic, he can wake up in the middle of the night and just get up because he has a new brilliant idea, and just the same if he suddenly gets bored in the middle of doing something - he'd drop everything, lie on the nearest couch, cover his face with a random book and snooze away.

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

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Jack Lowden’s Sauron.

The Facebook group and Reddit page I've found that don't tolerate the kinds of people who post endless poop gifs are great and all but there's one thing that's starting to frustrate me and it's that it feels like everyone is SO MEAN about Jack Lowden's Mairon.

I keep seeing he isn't alluring/beautiful enough and he's not giving off Dark Lord vibes. But he just lost his masterboyfriend/tormenter and got an unexpected promotion. He's trying to stamp his authority but not doing it with quite enough ruthlessness and confidence to prevent what happens to him next. He's meant to be Sauron before he's had a few centuries of literally steaming with rage as a puddle of goo-worms. I like the theory that in the beginning Halbrand was Mairon flirting with being good again, until he gave in to the temptation to go back to his old ways - except this time he's much more confident and skilled having had time to think about where he went wrong last time.

And maybe this isn't his ONLY First Age/Early Second Age form and he did look more alluring at times but he doesn't need to put on that sort of performance at that moment in time, because he's on the losing side speaking to his fellow losers.

Having said that I don't think Jack Lowden is ugly so I don't know what people want? Maybe he's not as dainty looking as people usually imagine Mairon but...shapeshifter remember?

Idk, yes Halbrand/Annatar is hot but I just love pathetic Ginger Mairon and his sad wee kitty ears.

Gil-galad: *engages Sauron in single combat*

Fingolfin, proudly, watching from Aman: THAT’S MY GRANDSON!

Hello ✨I hope you are doing well)You can request Glorfindel (if you are not writing for him, then Gil Galad/Celebrimbor/Eonwe. For whomever you feel more comfortable🤗)Some light melancholy with the atmosphere of the phrase "In a room full of the best works of art, I would still look at you." The reader says this to the elf and calms his worries and insecurities.Reader Maiar Namo.I want to surround these elves with maximum comfort, support and strong hugs🥹🫶🏻English is not my native language, I apologize in advance for mistakes😅

Work of Art (Glorfindel x female Maia of Mandos)

Glorfindel had a hard time adjusting to the Halls of Mandos. He had been there since the Fall of Gondolin, and he had to come to terms with dying, since he had been raised to believe that the lives of the Eldar were eternal, that they wouldn't end.

Yet, here he was, in the halls of the dead. He had a hard time accepting his new reality, but there was one who made it easier.

Nolwendë, she was called, the lady of wisdom. A Maia of Mandos, an ethereal being. Her alabaster skin shone even in the gloom. Her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. When he had first laid eyes on her, his only thought was: she's beautiful. As time went by, however, she became so much more than that.

In Glorfindel's view, she saw far beneath the surface of his thoughts. In her presence, he always felt that she understood him better than any other ever had. And so he found himself spilling his thoughts and confiding in her, even more so than to his close friend Ecthelion of the Fountain.

"You're deep in thought, Laurë," Nolwendë noted. "What troubles your mind so?"

"It is nothing," Glorfindel sighed, though he knew it was pointless to hide his thoughts from her. In truth, he had felt this way for a while now, the feeling of not being enough. Especially in the Halls of Mandos, where the souls of elves far greater than he rested.

Why did she keep coming back to him, when there were other souls she could have tended to? He could understand why she stayed away from the sons of Fëanor, but what about Fingon the Valiant? What about Finrod Felagund? Why him?

"Your mind wanders far," she spoke softly as she walked, almost like a glide, up to him, her fingers reaching to trace his jaw. "You're tense."

"Why do you stick with me?"

Her grey eyes widened, and Glorfindel stared into their depths, mesmerised by the ethereal colour of her irises. "Why I stick with you?" she murmured.

"Your thoughts are fascinating, for one," she replied. "You've had an interesting life, crossing the Helcaraxë to Middle-earth, living in Nevrast and finally Gondolin."

She reached out and caught one of his long gold locks in her hand, playing with his hair. "You have beautiful hair, and its radiance far outshines that of Fingon or Finrod..."

"But the most beautiful thing, Glorfindel the Golden, is your soul," she finally looked at him, her eyes boring into his. "You're thoughtful, kind, compassionate. To me, those qualities matter far more than anything superficial."

She shifts to lean her forehead against his back, her arms coming to encircle him. "In a room full of the best works of art, I would still look at you. You're beautiful, in every way possible. Your heart is as golden as your hair."

She presses a kiss to his forehead, which elicited a small smile from him. "You're precious to me, Laurë, and that's all that matters. Until the end of time, I will look at you."

"Even if the Valar choose to return you to Middle-earth, I will go with you. I will never leave you, never leave your side."

Her lips curved gently upwards. "Because I love you, Laurë. And you're the most precious to me. Don't you ever forget that."

Bonus: Glorfindel brags to everyone he encounters in the Halls of Mandos, and later when he gets re-embodied, that the Maia of Mandos loves him

TROP Celebrimbor cuz his acting’s so good