Summary: (76/500) A collection of drabbles or near-drabbles written about the Elves of the House of Finwe. If you see ** it means the chapter is done. I am adding all of the chapters to it, but they will be filled in as I write them, so don't be alarmed by seeing a lot of chapters with zeros for word counts to start off. I'm writing out of order, and this is the easiest way to keep track of what I have and haven't done.
Categories: Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Pre-First Age, Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > First Age, Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Second Age, Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Third Age, Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Fourth Age, Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Fifth Age Characters: None
Awards: None
Challenge: None
Genre: Action or Adventure, Comedic, Dramatic, Romantic
Special Collection: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 500 Completed: No
Word count: 11133 Read: 4253612
Published: April 06 2008 Updated: April 22 2008
Story Notes:
This collection is being written as a combination challenge from the April Fools challenge and the shortfic_500 challenge.
1. Love ** by Zhie
2. Touch ** by Zhie
3. Sex ** by Zhie
4. Kiss ** by Zhie
5. First-Kiss ** by Zhie
6. Adore ** by Zhie
7. Orgy ** by Zhie
8. Lick ** by Zhie
9. Kinky ** by Zhie
10. Suffer ** by Zhie
11. Lips ** by Zhie
12. Skin ** by Zhie
13. Sacrifice ** by Zhie
14. Sin ** by Zhie
15. Cheat ** by Zhie
16. Lies ** by Zhie
17. Family ** by Zhie
18. Temper ** by Zhie
19. Relief ** by Zhie
20. Leaves (WC - ty Binky) ** by Zhie
21. Pride ** by Zhie
22. Prejudice ** by Zhie
23. Date** by Zhie
24. Courage** by Zhie
25. Passion** by Zhie
26. Emotion** by Zhie
27. Hide ** by Zhie
28. Hot by Zhie
29. Secret ** by Zhie
30. Sexy by Zhie
31. Lust by Zhie
32. I by Zhie
33. Orange by Zhie
34. Buy by Zhie
35. Emergency by Zhie
36. Real by Zhie
37. Vampire by Zhie
38. Unity ** by Zhie
39. Jargon by Zhie
40. Tan (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
41. Maybe by Zhie
42. Forbidden ** by Zhie
43. Baby by Zhie
44. Forever by Zhie
45. Crazy ** by Zhie
46. Life by Zhie
47. Death ** by Zhie
48. Think ** by Zhie
49. Go on by Zhie
50. Soul by Zhie
51. Impress ** by Zhie
52. Two ** by Zhie
53. Garden by Zhie
54. Stare ** by Zhie
55. Accident ** by Zhie
56. Lifetime by Zhie
57. Werewolf ** by Zhie
58. Excuse by Zhie
59. Speech by Zhie
60. Blind (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
61. Know by Zhie
62. Shower by Zhie
63. Tell by Zhie
64. Cuddly by Zhie
65. Costume by Zhie
66. Risk by Zhie
67. Heart-break by Zhie
68. Pain by Zhie
69. Rain by Zhie
70. Heart by Zhie
71. Stage ** by Zhie
72. Blush by Zhie
73. Scene by Zhie
74. Tall by Zhie
75. "Pleased to Meet You" ** by Zhie
76. Recognize by Zhie
77. Suicide ** by Zhie
78. Cliff by Zhie
79. Selfish by Zhie
80. Sweat (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
81. Tea by Zhie
82. Physical by Zhie
83. Tale by Zhie
84. Destroy ** by Zhie
85. Dress by Zhie
86. Smoke ** by Zhie
87. Talent by Zhie
88. Heat by Zhie
89. Cold ** by Zhie
90. Imagine by Zhie
91. Gift ** by Zhie
92. Snow ** by Zhie
93. Truth by Zhie
94. Short by Zhie
95. Circle by Zhie
96. Time by Zhie
97. Pregnant by Zhie
98. Camping by Zhie
99. January by Zhie
100. Forgiveness (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
101. Car by Zhie
102. Attractive by Zhie
103. Food by Zhie
104. Punk by Zhie
105. Party by Zhie
106. Karma by Zhie
107. Sleep by Zhie
108. Sing by Zhie
109. Shoes ** by Zhie
110. Hospital by Zhie
111. Early by Zhie
112. Kill by Zhie
113. Vulgar ** by Zhie
114. Big by Zhie
115. Small by Zhie
116. Hero ** by Zhie
117. Gentle by Zhie
118. Inside by Zhie
119. February by Zhie
120. Acceptance (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
121. Try by Zhie
122. Loveable by Zhie
123. True by Zhie
124. Game by Zhie
125. Magic by Zhie
126. Sweet by Zhie
127. Woods by Zhie
128. Boat ** by Zhie
129. Laces by Zhie
130. Decorate by Zhie
131. Slave ** by Zhie
132. Gun by Zhie
133. Armed by Zhie
134. Cut by Zhie
135. Love Me by Zhie
136. Villain by Zhie
137. Alcohol by Zhie
138. Outside by Zhie
139. March by Zhie
140. Night (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
141. Sun by Zhie
142. Straight by Zhie
143. Gay ** by Zhie
144. Video by Zhie
145. Music by Zhie
146. Paint by Zhie
147. Forest by Zhie
148. Face by Zhie
149. Pants by Zhie
150. Wedding by Zhie
151. Pierce by Zhie
152. Do by Zhie
153. Threat ** by Zhie
154. Meet ** by Zhie
155. Kiss Me ** by Zhie
156. Skeptic by Zhie
157. Lip Stick by Zhie
158. Dazzle by Zhie
158. April by Zhie
160. Jasmine (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
161. If by Zhie
162. Laughter by Zhie
163. Have by Zhie
164. Farm by Zhie
165. Moment by Zhie
166. Santa Claus by Zhie
167. Dance ** by Zhie
168. Naked by Zhie
169. Silly by Zhie
170. Displaced ** by Zhie
171. Breed ** by Zhie
172. Done by Zhie
173. Guard by Zhie
174. Acid by Zhie
175. "I Love You" by Zhie
176. Hat by Zhie
177. Eye-Liner ** by Zhie
178. Settle by Zhie
179. May by Zhie
180. Breeze (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
181. Wet by Zhie
182. Happiness by Zhie
183. Hell by Zhie
184. Animal by Zhie
185. Smile by Zhie
186. Theme Park by Zhie
187. Control by Zhie
188. Abhor by Zhie
189. Clown by Zhie
190. Decadence by Zhie
191. Eulogy ** by Zhie
192. Doom ** by Zhie
193. Room by Zhie
194. Lost by Zhie
195. Found by Zhie
196. Things by Zhie
197. Prostitute by Zhie
198. Paragraph by Zhie
199. June by Zhie
200. Cheese (WC - ty Book Maven) by Zhie
201. Make by Zhie
202. Photo-graph by Zhie
203. Depth by Zhie
204. Desire by Zhie
205. Frown by Zhie
206. Jet Plane by Zhie
207. Let Go by Zhie
208. Distract by Zhie
209. Believe Me by Zhie
210. Machine by Zhie
211. Cry by Zhie
212. Over by Zhie
213. Space by Zhie
214. Free by Zhie
215. Shopping by Zhie
216. Mind by Zhie
217. Impression by Zhie
218. Ignorant by Zhie
219. July by Zhie
220. Shadow (WC - ty Jo) ** by Zhie
221. Why by Zhie
222. Marriage ** by Zhie
223. Can by Zhie
224. Pretty by Zhie
225. Travel by Zhie
226. Orgasm by Zhie
227. Good by Zhie
228. Bad by Zhie
229. Skill ** by Zhie
230. Famous by Zhie
231. Rape ** by Zhie
232. Under by Zhie
233. Alien by Zhie
234. Play by Zhie
235. Stolen by Zhie
236. Lover by Zhie
237. Underling by Zhie
238. Callous by Zhie
239. August by Zhie
240. Writer's Choice by Zhie
241. Me by Zhie
242. Make Up by Zhie
243. Beg by Zhie
244. Forget ** by Zhie
245. Remind by Zhie
246. Sympathetic by Zhie
247. Speak by Zhie
248. Wonder by Zhie
249. Will by Zhie
250. Fantastic by Zhie
251. Steal by Zhie
252. Mask by Zhie
253. Warm by Zhie
254. Sour by Zhie
255. Starving ** by Zhie
256. Write by Zhie
257. Presence by Zhie
258. Shelter by Zhie
259. September by Zhie
260. Writer's Choice by Zhie
261. You ** by Zhie
262. Christmas by Zhie
263. New Year's by Zhie
264. Halloween by Zhie
265. Damned by Zhie
266. Accoustic by Zhie
267. Right by Zhie
268. Wander ** by Zhie
269. Pure by Zhie
270. Politics by Zhie
271. Book by Zhie
272. Black by Zhie
273. Warn by Zhie
274. Words ** by Zhie
275. Attention by Zhie
276. Read by Zhie
277. Virginity by Zhie
278. Whipped by Zhie
279. October by Zhie
280. Writer's Choice by Zhie
281. Us by Zhie
282. Birthday by Zhie
283. Old by Zhie
284. Young by Zhie
285. Catapult by Zhie
286. Beautiful by Zhie
287. Wrong by Zhie
288. Please by Zhie
289. Water by Zhie
290. Chemical by Zhie
291. Wings by Zhie
292. White by Zhie
293. Be by Zhie
294. Gang by Zhie
295. Innatentive by Zhie
296. Ride by Zhie
297. Caught ** by Zhie
298. Weapon by Zhie
299. November by Zhie
300. Writer's Choice by Zhie
301. Fall ** by Zhie
302. Summer by Zhie
303. Winter by Zhie
304. Spring by Zhie
305. Scent by Zhie
306. Bass Guitar by Zhie
307. Tempt by Zhie
308. Believe by Zhie
309. Ocean by Zhie
310. Damage by Zhie
311. Noise by Zhie
312. Pray by Zhie
313. Was by Zhie
314. Body by Zhie
315. Epiphany by Zhie
316. Telephone by Zhie
317. Piercing by Zhie
318. Surrender ** by Zhie
319. December by Zhie
320. Writer's Choice by Zhie
320. See by Zhie
320. Taste by Zhie
323. Hear by Zhie
324. Anniversary by Zhie
325. Empty by Zhie
326. Sensitive by Zhie
327. Devil by Zhie
328. Possible by Zhie
329. Help by Zhie
330. Cow Boy by Zhie
331. Scream by Zhie
332. Care by Zhie
333. Resist ** by Zhie
334. Diary by Zhie
335. Phrase by Zhie
336. Silence by Zhie
337. Tattoo by Zhie
338. Arrogant by Zhie
339. Window by Zhie
340. Writer's Choice by Zhie
341. Who by Zhie
342. Smell by Zhie
343. Count by Zhie
344. Fiction by Zhie
345. Fallen by Zhie
346. Piano by Zhie
347. Still by Zhie
348. Insane by Zhie
349. Sick by Zhie
350. Midnight by Zhie
351. Letters by Zhie
352. Blood by Zhie
353. Unruly by Zhie
354. Faint by Zhie
355. "Just Words" by Zhie
356. Pleasure by Zhie
357. Fuck by Zhie
357. Seduce by Zhie
359. Dormant by Zhie
360. Writer's Choice by Zhie
361. Want by Zhie
362. Jealousy by Zhie
363. Hate ** by Zhie
364. Fight by Zhie
365. Angel by Zhie
366. Roller Coaster by Zhie
367. Trust ** by Zhie
368. Anorexic ** by Zhie
369. House by Zhie
370. Fantasy by Zhie
371. Alone by Zhie
372. Bleed by Zhie
373. Bridge by Zhie
374. Sign by Zhie
375. Perfect by Zhie
376. Foreign by Zhie
377. Simple by Zhie
378. Seductive by Zhie
379. Revival by Zhie
380. Writer's Choice by Zhie
381. Where by Zhie
382. Torment by Zhie
383. Had by Zhie
384. Crisis by Zhie
385. Demon by Zhie
386. Ferris Wheel by Zhie
387. Regret by Zhie
388. Bulimic by Zhie
389. Home by Zhie
390. Teacher by Zhie
391. Alive by Zhie
392. Drunk by Zhie
393. Bird by Zhie
394. Grace by Zhie
395. Careless ** by Zhie
396. Imprisoned by Zhie
397. Complex by Zhie
398. Bought by Zhie
399. For Good by Zhie
400. Writer's Choice by Zhie
401. When by Zhie
402. Terrible by Zhie
403. Swim by Zhie
404. Court ** by Zhie
405. Sanction by Zhie
406. Day Care by Zhie
407. Upset by Zhie
408. Hold by Zhie
409. Gone by Zhie
410. Scientist by Zhie
411. Lucky by Zhie
412. Mime by Zhie
413. Wind by Zhie
414. Apart by Zhie
415. Careful by Zhie
416. Far Away by Zhie
417. Run Away ** by Zhie
418. Lavish by Zhie
419. Reputation by Zhie
420. Writer's Choice by Zhie
421. Fear ** by Zhie
422. Delicious by Zhie
423. And ** by Zhie
424. Scared by Zhie
425. Church by Zhie
426. Mid-life Crisis by Zhie
427. Concert by Zhie
428. Pause by Zhie
429. Swear by Zhie
430. Terrorist by Zhie
431. Bite by Zhie
432. Angry by Zhie
433. Desert by Zhie
434. Shout ** by Zhie
435. "Thank-You" by Zhie
436. Arms by Zhie
437. Give Up by Zhie
438. Haunted by Zhie
439. Bitten by Zhie
440. Writer's Choice by Zhie
441. Feel by Zhie
442. Unnoticed by Zhie
443. Urge by Zhie
444. Claustrophobic by Zhie
445. Religion by Zhie
446. Judgement by Zhie
447. Sparks by Zhie
448. Everything by Zhie
449. Act by Zhie
450. Normal by Zhie
451. Amber by Zhie
452. Gold ** by Zhie
453. Tower by Zhie
454. Cursed by Zhie
455. Sudden by Zhie
456. Mindful by Zhie
457. Empathy by Zhie
458. Difficult by Zhie
459. Shudder by Zhie
460. Writer's Choice by Zhie
461. Deny ** by Zhie
462. Uncaring by Zhie
463. Human by Zhie
464. Sentinel by Zhie
465. Horrible by Zhie
466. Good Deed by Zhie
467. Money by Zhie
468. Every Time by Zhie
469. Fail by Zhie
470. Success by Zhie
471. Shut by Zhie
472. Silver by Zhie
473. Lesson by Zhie
474. Rest by Zhie
475. Disease by Zhie
476. Before by Zhie
477. Apathy by Zhie
478. Concern by Zhie
479. Bored by Zhie
480. Writer's Choice by Zhie
481. Ugly by Zhie
482. Delightful by Zhie
483. Never by Zhie
484. Sensual by Zhie
485. Jittery by Zhie
486. Bad Deed by Zhie
487. Drugs by Zhie
488. Everyday by Zhie
489. Suck by Zhie
490. Succeed by Zhie
491. Shiver by Zhie
492. Bronze by Zhie
493. Teach by Zhie
494. Arrest by Zhie
495. "It's Over" by Zhie
496. Twice by Zhie
497. Under Estimate by Zhie
498. Over Estimate by Zhie
499. Strong by Zhie
500. Writer's Choice by Zhie
Author's Notes:
Finwe, contemplating love
I wonder if the Valar really understand love.
I say, with fair certainty, they do not have a clue. Gladly I would take both Miriel and Indis as wife; I would treat them both the same, for I love them both. I would wait for Miriel to heal, and welcome her with open arms. What difference should it make that I should need a bigger bed then, to accommodate all three of us?
But, no. Choose, they say. Decide, their voices thunder. I begin to understand what wise little Feanor believes: What need have we for these rules, imposed by them upon us? Can we not govern ourselves, and better still than what they might offer?
My heart is heavy to make such a choice.
Author's Notes:
Elrond and his sons
“Stop it!”
Elladan grinned. “Stop it? Stop what? I am not doing anything.”
Ten seconds later, it repeated.
“I said, stop it!”
“What? What did I do?”
Elrohir growled. “Stop it, Elladan! Ada, make him stop!”
Elrond sighed and looked over his book. “What is he doing?”
“He is touching me!”
“Is that all? Elladan, whatever you are doing is annoying your brother. Stop it.”
Moments later, his words went unheaded.
“STOP! I said to stop it! Ada, tell Elladan to go to his room!”
Another sigh came from Elrond. “Someday, you may well regret that you put up such a fuss over him touching you.” Elrond closed his book and took it to his bedroom, leaving a pair of befuddled peredhel in his wake.
Author's Notes:
Finrod, Amarie
They were already naked on the bed by the time it was brought up. “If we... if we do this...” The concern, the unasked question was in her eyes.
“I love you,” he muttered, his eyes closed as he nuzzled his face between her breasts.
“I know, but... marriage... Finrod, I am not sure about this. I mean...” She looked away when he raised his head. “Someday, but we should have a... a courtship, and an engagement, and a wedding...”
“We can wait,” he said, panting as he sat up.
Amarie put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down. “I do not want to wait.”
“Then, we just... do this without binding.”
“We can do that?”
“Only one way to find out...”
Author's Notes:
Aredhel; Anaire
“Where are you off to so early?” Anaire was in her dressing gown, while her daughter was already dressed, quiver on her back, boots laced, ready to go.
“Hunting with Celegorm and his brothers,” answered Aredhel, slightly impatient. “I must hurry or they will ride off without me.”
“Is Fingon going with you?”
“My brothers are still asleep,” answered Aredhel with a wry smile. “Do not worry; Maedhros will not let any of us get hurt, and Orome usually accompanies us.”
Anaire sighed and shook her head. “Alright, but be home by supper. And no kissing any of them.”
“Why would I do that?” wondered Aredhel as she left the house.
“You will find out soon enough,” worried Anaire once Aredhel disappeared into the stable.
Author's Notes:
Gildor, Glorfindel
“Long time, no see.”
That voice, so familiar, so nearly forgotten. Glorfindel turned ever so slowly, and gawked upon seeing his ex-lover from so long ago. “Gildor. You... you look well.”
“Is that all you can say?” teased Gildor. He smiled and closed the gap between them. “Welcome back.”
Moments later, they were kissing, viewed by all in the Hall of Fire. It was breathless and sensual, not just another kiss. This was like the first time they were in each other’s arms. They escaped in the familiarity and drowned in the newness, and ignored the irritated coughs from those around them.
“Did you miss me?” asked Glorfindel once they had parted.
Gildor brushed his cheek against Glorfindel’s. “You have to ask me that, darling?”
Author's Notes:
Finrod, Aegnor, re: Andreth
“It seems you and Andreth get along quite well together,” remarked Finrod. He had watched his brother and the lady holding hands for quite some time, approaching only when she had departed to her home for the evening.
“I adore her,” answered Aegnor as he watched the lingering sun set.
Finrod stepped next to his younger sibling and nudged Aegnor’s shoulder with his own. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Aegnor swallowed hard. “She is mortal.”
“And.. you would rather find an Elven maid, even if she does not hold your heart as Andreth does.”
“No,” said Aegnor quietly as the sun disappeared, moon and stars taking reign. “I will love no other as long as I live, and in death, think only of her.”
Author's Notes:
Duilin and Fingon chatting about...
“Know what would be fun?”
Duilin yawned and looked over at Fingon, who was contemplating both the stars and something else. “Does it involve me?”
“Actually, it does. You, Salgant, myself... and a few others. Maybe Glorfindel, maybe, oh, what was his name...”
“Who?”
“That artist you introduced me to, and his husband. I am certain they would enjoy it.”
“Enjoy what?” wondered Duilin.
Fingon smiled. “Just a... group activity I was thinking of...”
“Then you have to remember Erestor. Glorfindel does not go anywhere without him.”
“No, Erestor would never agree to what I am thinking of.”
Duilin furrowed his brow, and then he figured things out. “You know none of them would do that.”
“I know, but I like to think about it...”
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Maedhros, Fingolfin
“Enjoying yourself?” asked Maedhros.
Fingon stood still and stared straight ahead, drink held with both hands. “I promised Ada not to do anything to embarrass him,” answered Fingon.
“I will take that to mean you are bored out of your mind.”
“Please, please do nothing that is going to cause a scene.”
“I promise not to do anything,” answered Maedhros, his voice barely a whisper.
“Thank you, love.” But Fingon spoke too soon.
“As for saying something—“
“Oh, you wicked—“
Maedhros cut Fingon off, leaning in close to say, “I want to lick your eyelashes.”
--
“What is going on over there?” huffed Fingolfin. His eldest son had just burst out laughing for no apparent reason in the midst of Turgon’s wedding reception.
Author's Notes:
Elrond, Celebrian
“You do know, some people would view this behavior as something out of the ordinary.”
Celebrian was sitting on the settee; Elrond on the floor in front of her. One of her long legs was draped over each of his shoulders. Her dress had been pushed up to mid-thigh, allowing her husband full access to her calves and feet. Mainly, her feet, which he kissed and caressed.
“Do you want me to stop?” he playfully asked.
“Mmmm... no.” Celebrian rubbed her calf against her husband’s cheek. “Ooo... you neglected to shave this morning.” She dropped down to the floor and started to nuzzle her nose against his bristly cheek.
“Some people would view this behavior as something out of the ordinary,” he whispered to her.
Author's Notes:
Miriel, re: Maglor & others
I thought my release would mean my freedom, but I fear I am wrong. This torture I am put through, day after day, is no doubt my penance for abandoning the son I should have nurtured and raised myself. I would never have taught him to hate his brothers, nor to force his children to choose between himself and their mother.
Instead, here I sit, weaving their tales, their destruction, and their doom. Their suffering is my suffering; they shed tears as I shed tears for them, staining the cloth. Beautiful images of horrible, haunting events, year after year, until they are all returned, by death or by ship. All except Maglor, the soft-spoken, serious grandson I have never met and yet know so well.
Author's Notes:
Celeborn, Galadriel
Celeborn furiously attacked his drawing with an eraser, muttering to himself as he did so.
“Something wrong, darling?”
The eraser was thrown across the flet, where it bounced off of the floorboards and into the wall. “I can get the rest of the face done in an hour, but the lips always take me days to get right.”
“Maybe you just need a little more practice,” suggested Galadriel.
Celeborn stared at the lipless image he had drawn. “Maybe.” He tossed it aside. “Maybe I just need to... refresh my memory on the subject matter.” He moved from his chair to the arm of the one his wife was sitting on.
“Is that your artistic way of saying you have come to kiss me breathless?”
“Yes.”
Author's Notes:
Aredhel & Eol
We are an odd pair, twined together. Most lovers sleeping close might have difficulty in finding where one began and the other ended, but there is no mystery here. My cousins called me ‘The White Lady’, but the nickname had little to do with my choice of attire. I have always been pale, even in health, and in the days without sunlight I have become milk-white.
My husband’s flesh, on the other hand, camouflages him in his underground realm. Dark like the shadows and smooth like chocolate. Chocolate and cream. I give an experimental lick to his forearm. I am given an odd look and giggle when he stares and says nothing – hardly the behavior of a seasoned Elven warrior princess, but it will do.
Author's Notes:
Nerdanel; re: her sons
I have made a sacrifice greater than any mother should suffer. My heart holds little love yet for my husband, and his fall affects me little. It is each time one of my sons is killed that I grieve.
I should not say I favor one over the other; all parents lie and say they love each the same. But there were some who liked their father better, and some who spent their times of freedom with me. My littlest ones should have stayed; I blame their going on some dark words he surely spoke unto them to think them traitor if they did not follow. No matter; they are back with me now. Now we wait for Makalaure to return, and hope he does.
Author's Notes:
Glorfindel w/ Gildor, reflecting on you know who
Unable to sleep, my mind wanders, counting my sins for this act. Three, each worse than the previous.
Unmarried, unbound, and yet we share the same bed – mine alone when he is gone, but still his scent always lingers. We agreed to forgo formality, yet it weighs on my mind as we slip beneath sheets and explore this heat.
Unacceptable, for as cousins this close we are practically kin, and no bond between us would be blessed. I can ignore both sins, but not the last.
Unforgettable is the feeling I get when I see, hear, touch the one my soul calls out for. That he sleeps alone, in his own bed, while I am here without him is perhaps my worst sin of all.
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Turgon, Maglor
“Come downstairs, Turgon,” insisted Fingon. “Our cousins are here and we are going to play cards before dinner.”
“Which ones?” asked Turgon warily.
“...playing cards,” answered Fingon, somewhat confused.
Turgon smirked. “No, dummy, which cousins, not which cards.”
“Oh!” Fingon smiled at his mistake. “Maedhros and Maglor.”
Turgon began to rise.
“And Celegorm.”
With a sigh of exasperation, Turgon plopped back down on his bed. “No.”
“What? Why not? You like to converse with Maglor.”
“Yes, but Celegorm cheats.”
Fingon frowned. “I do not think—“ He paused as he was tapped on the shoulder, and Maglor silently smiled and slid past into the room. “Umm...”
“I was hoping to avoid the game up here,” said Maglor. “I hate playing with Celegorm. He always cheats.”
Author's Notes:
Son of Feanor -1
Caranthir pushed Curufin against the side of the cliff, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Give me one reason not to draw my blade,” he hissed. The rest of his brothers, save the youngest, stood behind him but made no move.
“I did not know! Father said the ships were empty; he said we had to burn them! We did not know Ambarto was still sleeping on one of them!”
Caranthir’s hand moved from his side to grip Curufin’s throat. Celegorm moved forward, but Maedhros blocked him. “Father lied to you, just as he lied about what the Teleri said. He knew Ambarto was there. I told him before we made camp.”
“I am sorry,” choked Curufin.
Caranthir pointed to Ambarussa. “Tell him that.”
Author's Notes:
Nerdanel; Mahtan
“Not nervous, are you?” Mahtan bent down to kiss his daughter on the top of the head. It seemed like yesterday she was running to him with skinned knees and frogs caught from the pond behind the smithy. Now she sat before her mirror, dressed in dazzling white, a perfectly poised beautiful bride.
“Not really,” replied Nerdanel, putting her hand over the one her father had placed on her shoulder.
He put his other large hand atop her delicate one. “Something is bothering you.”
She smiled. “You know me so well, father.”
“Since the day you were born.”
“Feanor said yesterday he cannot wait to have a large family.” Nerdanel looked concerned.
“Oh, he probably means he wants three children instead of one or two.”
Author's Notes:
Celegorm, Curufin re: Caranthir
“One of these days, Caranthir is going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and we will not be around to defend his ass.” Curufin was sitting on the balcony beside Celegorm, reflecting on the day.
Celegorm smiled. “Maybe. Maybe he knows not to say the things he says when he does not have us around to back him up. I remember once, when I was near my majority and he was still an elfling, I asked Nana why his face was so red when he got angry and she said all the color from his would-be red hair had drained down to his cheeks.”
“That explains his black tresses, but what about your fair hair?” wondered Curufin.
“What about it?” growled Celegorm.
Author's Notes:
Maedhros, Maglor, et al
“I think I hear something.”
Maedhros kept behind by a few steps, watching for anyone or anything that might be following them. “Let us hope this time you are hearing what we are seeking.”
The search had gone on longer than Maedhros would have liked, but he planned not to give up this time as he had when his brother had abandoned two helpless children in the woods.
“Russandol, I see one of them!” Maglor sprinted forward, leaving his brother to cover his hastily made tracks.
When Maedhros reached his brother, he found him holding a wide-eyed elfling who was sucking on his thumb. “Where is the other?” he asked as he looked around, heart sinking.
“Playing in the waterfall,” grinned Maglor, nodding towards it.
Leaves (WC - ty Binky) ** by Zhie
When I was little and played with my friends, I always desired to win. Even in games where the point was just to have a little fun, I only had fun if I eventually won... which sometimes meant making the others cry or run away. There was one who did neither, who tried in his own juvenile way to warn me. “You are so mean, Artanis,” he told me once. “If you ever become queen, I hope everyone has enough sense to hide from you.”
I suppose it is fitting that I rule a place with more trees than people in it. Trees have thicker skin and are not often prone to running away. Galadhriel, Queen of the Leaves, I have overheard Thranduil say now.
Author's Notes:
Elrond, Lindir, speaking of Gandalf
“It certainly seems odd,” said Lindir as he fell in step with his mentor, “that Gandalf should always end up here before something terrible, and you should always be the one to solve his troubles. It is good he has the sense to ask for your help.”
“Aid is never something he asks for,” replied Elrond carefully. “He arrives with the thought that he is safe here, which he is. In this place, he can take the time to think. His pride stands in his way of formally requesting assistance.”
“Then it is good that you have the sense to know what he needs,” amended Lindir. “Actually, you always tend to know what everyone needs.”
Elrond smiled. “I take pride in that fact.”
Author's Notes:
Elros, Elrond, Maedhros
“We cannot play with you,” said the youngling.
Elrond pouted, but Elros stepped forward, fists clenched. “Why not?”
One of the others spoke up. “You are not real elves.”
“Yes, we are,” argued Elrond in a quiet voice.
“Look at your ears!” taunted another elfling.
“You are too chubby!”
A tussle would have started had Maedhros not intervened. “Just what constitutes a real elf?” he asked, arms behind his back. “Two hands, two feet, long hair, pointy ears?” The group nodded. “Well then... I guess I am not a real elf, either!” he said to them with menace, drawing forward his maimed arm and pointing the stump at them.
As the children scattered, he patted Elros’ head. “You are too good for them,” he advised.
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Feanor, speaking of Miriel
Fingon was sharply pulled aside. “That is my mother,” hissed Feanor. He received a slight nod. “What are you doing with her?”
“Having dinner,” replied Fingon. He acted as if this was obvious, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Would you care to join us?”
“Findekano..” Feanor fought hard to keep his voice from rising. He looked beyond the Elf before him, seeing his dear, sweet mother sitting at a cozy table for two.
Before Feanor could add anything, Fingon said, “You can stop worrying, uncle. It is only a date. I have no intention of bedding your mother.”
**
Caught between the urge to sigh in relief or be offended, Feanor went with the latter and blurted out, “Well, why not?”
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Fingolfin; a challenge to Morgoth
“What are you doing?” Fingolfin barely caught hold of the reigns, and waited for an answer from his son.
“Someone has to do something.” Fingon was armored for battle, his sword sharp, his quiver full, his horse grinding the bit.
Fingolfin’s gaze met that of his son. In his heart, he knew these would be their last moments together for some years. “You would stand against him. Alone. No one by your side.”
“Aye.” There was no hesitation.
Fingolfin turned his head and barked orders to those around him. “Saddle Rochallor! Bring me my sword!” He let go of Fingolfin’s reigns. “I ride to Angband tonight,” he said solemnly as he lifted the crown from his head and held it aloft for Fingon to take.
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Miriel; on the topic of sex
“I unequivocally detest it,” admitted Fingon. They were walking the shores, and crossed the line from cautious courting to complete honesty. Despite possibilities of awkward conversation regarding his grandfather, he continued. “I enjoy the romance: cuddling, kissing, unexpected love notes. I find the act of copulation to be disgusting and unsanitary.”
“This is why Maedhros left?” questioned Miriel, shoes in one hand, the other holding onto Fingon’s upper arm as the tide swept at their feet.
“Why I left him,” corrected Fingon. “His inner flame would have burned me alive had I stayed.”
A pause, then Miriel spoke. “He gets it from his father; his father certainly got it from Finwe.” She mulled it over. “I like you,” she decided. “I think I would find enjoyment in your arms, but not in your bed.”
“Fair enough,” agreed Fingon. “I think, you and I, find our crafts to be our passion.”
Author's Notes:
(exceeds a bit; blame Celegorm) Celegorm, Maedhros, Maglor, Caranthir
“If you thought yourself unable, why not pass the crown to your brothers? Your own blood!” Celegorm was seething. Even though all had been cautioned on the delicate state that Maedhros was in, this had not stopped him from bursting into the unlit room his brother was healing in to demand answers.
“Let him rest,” scolded Maglor, but Celegorm pushed his elder brother aside to stand next to the bed, hovering over Maedhros.
Slowly, silver eyes opened, barely focusing. “Maglor suffered greatly in this position. I have not the strength to rule; he has not the drive.” His eyes closed again.
“What about me?” demanded Celegorm. He continued his rage by slamming his fist down upon a small table beside the bed. “What right have you to pass me by? Tell me, what is it that I lack?”
“Emotional stability,” answered Caranthir with a glare.
Celegorm growled and gestured rudely.
I used to hide from my brothers. Not only in child’s games, but later when we were grown. I never understood Fingon’s desires, and Argon was much younger, our interests greatly varied. To my sister I confided all this; I suppose that is why she stayed with me.
I hid from our parents as well. My early romance with Elenwe and my wishes that I might have been their firstborn were secrets I never divulged. Aredhel, of course, heard all of this as well.
Now I take to hiding, not in the vast forests of Valinor, nor stowed away in some Telerin ship, free to think and read as was my pleasure, but here in Gondolin, until my death. The irony does not escape me.
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Author's Notes:
Arwen, Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir
In the shadows I lurk. I glare. My expression probably rivals the one my father wears in council.
But there is no one to affirm my suspicions as I remain hidden and watch my sister cross the room with her beloved. They laugh and refill their glasses with wine. I scowl.
My secret... I hate him. I hate what it means. This... Man... who I helped raise, who I knew as my little brother, will take my sister away from us. I tend to speak my mind, but this is one secret that shall remain so, even from my twin.
I watch my brother happily join them. I lose her if I say nothing, but if I reveal my distaste, I risk losing them all.
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Decisions that Feanor made led to a chain reaction among his sons. Celegorm immediately followed suit, and Curufin thereafter. Then there would be a pause, always a pause, a hard look that reminded them of grandfather, before Caranthir approved. The twins quickly agreed.
It would then be Maedhros who would weigh the possibilities, and often spoke a few words, but ultimately joined with the majority. This tended to lead to Maglor making it unanimous.
But, not always. Not today.
He stood before them, hands clenched around his harp to steady their shaking. “You truly mean to do this?”
“Are you not with us? Then go back, and be a traitor like your mother.”
In his heart he stayed, but the son who desired approval followed.
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Tan (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
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Forbidden, he tells me I am. Forbidden to leave and forbidden to see our cousins who are as dear to me as my brothers are. He cannot deny me, and he knows this. I am not his wife, nor his daughter, not one for him to dismiss. Freely I followed him, yet freely I will depart.
Of course, I am forbidden to go alone. He assigns his three best to escort me. He forgets how much better I am than any of these three pups. Ecthelion fights well, but I have more years of experience, and Glorfindel’s riding is subpar compared to mine. Egalmoth was chosen for his wit, and yet I find it humorous to think these three will keep me from my goal.
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Author's Notes:
Sons of Feanor -1
“I must be crazy,” muttered Caranthir.
“Why is that?” For the first time in a very long time, the remaining brothers were together, sharing a campfire. Curufin waited patiently for his older brother’s answer.
“After all this time, and how far we have come, my focus should be clear.”
“But?” prodded Celegorm.
Caranthir shook his head, staring at the fire. “I just keep thinking of her.”
“Her?”
“That woman,” clarified Celegorm for Curufin.
“She has a name,” growled Caranthir.
Curufin nodded, but Celegorm had to push things.
“Had a name. How long has she been dead now? A century?”
“Leave him alone.” Maedhros motioned for Caranthir to come around by him, and the dark haired brother did so. “You miss her?”
“Constantly,” Caranthir quietly admitted.
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Author's Notes:
Elrond, Glorfindel
“Now that Gil-galad is gone, who will be named king?”
“I suspect Elrond will be.”
“The Peredhel? A mutt?”
Glorfindel interrupted the soldiers who were whispering. “That ‘mutt’ is your king.”
Elrond was right behind him, and after the soldiers bowed and scattered said, “I am no king.”
“You are now; the last of Finwe’s line.”
“Not the last,” Elrond reminded him.
“Someone must claim it.”
“It will not be me. I cannot take the crown.”
There was a solemn look in Glorfindel’s eyes. “You can refuse the crown and refuse the title, but long ago I pledged myself to the High King of the Noldor when I was in Gondolin.” Glorfindel dropped to one knee. “Until my death or yours, you are my king.”
Author's Notes:
Celeborn & Galadriel; about Finrod
“You have told me much of three of your brothers, but say very little of your eldest sibling.”
“You already know Finrod; he can tell you of himself,” replied Galadriel as she and Celeborn strolled through the garden.
Celeborn paused to pull a pair of ripe apples from a low branch. He checked them for worms before offering the redder to the somewhat mysterious lady he was actively courting. “I would rather you told me about him.”
“Oh?”
“It means I spend more time with you.”
“Oh. Well, there is very little to him. He is my brother, and he just likes to think.”
“To think?”
“Yes.”
“Is that his occupation, or his hobby?”
Galadriel contemplated before taking a bite of the juicy fruit. “Yes.”
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Author's Notes:
Aredhel, sons of Feanor
“Aredhel! Aredhel! Watch this!” Curufin sped his horse towards the hedges, leaping clear over with the beast barely clipping the leaves.
Celegorm rode back around, giving those who were applauding an incredulous look. “That impresses you?” And before waiting for an answer, galloped away, only to return at a greater speed. He headed right towards his brother, and Curufin instinctively covered his head with his arms as his brother fearlessly pushed his stallion to jump over Curufin and his horse.
Maedhros nudged his mount sideways in order to speak to Aredhel as everyone else laughed at Celegorm’s smugness and Curufin’s curses. “Do you ever get tired of watching them curry your favor?”
“Rogues, all of you,” answered Aredhel as Maglor attempted to best his brothers.
Author's Notes:
Earendil and Glorfindel
Little Earendil ran to Glorfindel. “Look! I got two!” He held up the sticks of rock candy, one in each hand.
“I see,” replied Glorfindel.
“Both mine!” added Earendil gleefully.
Glorfindel smiled, but it was sad and faltered.
Though young, Earendil was perceptive. “Are you sad?”
Glorfindel managed to fake a happier smile. “A little bit, little one. Nothing to worry about.” He patted Earendil on the head.
“Here.” Earendil held up the bigger of his prizes. “You can have this one.”
“I cannot take that from you,” said Glorfindel.
“You got to. Candy always makes me happy. Here.” He pushed it into Glorfindel’s hand and frowned, as Glorfindel’s eyes were watering. “Now you look sadder.”
“No, little one, you made me happier,” Glorfindel explained.
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Author's Notes:
Elrond, Celebrian, Elladan, Elrohir
“What are the two of you doing? Your mother has shouted for the last ten minutes.” Elrond approached the table. His sons were sitting, staring at the other. “What is going on?”
“Shh, Ada, you will break my concentration,” insisted Elladan, his eyes never moving.
Elrohir answered back, “A small distraction like that has no effect on me.”
With a sigh, Celebrian entered the room, looking harried and a little angry. “Are those two having another staring contest? I need help in here!”
“It will not be long, Nana, El is bound to blink soon,” Elladan reassured her.
“Nuh-uh.”
Elrond rolled his own eyes, reached his hand between them and snapped his fingers, making the twins jump and blink. “Go help your mother,” he scolded.
Author's Notes:
Maedhros, Fingon, Celegorm, Curufin
“Oops... sorry.” Curufin tried to look apologetic as Fingon picked himself up from the ground. The shy ellon mumbled something before speeding away.
Maedhros shoved Curufin from his perch on the low wall once Fingon was out of range. “Sorry? What was the gain in intentionally tripping him?”
“It was an accident.”
“Bullshit.” Maedhros poked his finger against Curufin’s chest. Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to see your reaction,” smirked the younger brother. Still on the wall was Celegorm, looking haughtily amused.
“Better go see to your puppy; looks like he’s crying,” observed Celegorm.
With a glare that was directed at both of them, Maedhros growled, “I will deal with both of you later.” He pushed past Curufin and jogged towards his cousin.
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Author's Notes:
Finrod; Galadriel, Orodreth
“Ecthelion is obviously the greater of the two—four balrogs defeated in one day, Gothmog among them,” argued Orodreth.
Galadriel shook her head. “He had aid from his soldiers, and Glorfindel fought his balrog alone, on the side of a cliff no less.”
It was then that their elder brother spoke, his annoyance unmasked. “Is it simply the size of the beasts that makes them heroes?”
“It has a lot to do with it,” admitted Orodreth.
“If I recall, one of them drowned, and the other fell, neither was actually wounded by their foe.” When neither answered, he continued with, “Allow me to remind you, it was I who slayed a werewolf, without shield, without sword, bare hands and teeth alone.”
The discussion abruptly ended.
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Blind (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel; others
“The theatre... is an art. Just like this is,” explained Glorfindel from the center of the practice field. His sword was drawn, an extension of his arm, shining, and polished just that morning. “This, gentlemen, is my stage, you, my actors, I, the director. This is rehersal; the battle is the play, and no matter what, the show must go on.”
“The uniforms are your costumes and your these weapons your props. There are but two differences, of course,” he continued as he motioned to various trainees, pairing them off for sparring. “Unlike most plays, we will use no script. Ad lib, I suppose.”
“And the other, sir?” asked one of the recruits.
“That you would not want to ‘break a leg’ on this stage.”
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"Pleased to Meet You" ** by Zhie
He was thrown onto the floor, scraped and scarred, one eye swollen shut, his lip split. Blood dripped onto the stone and he spat toward the feet of the nearest orc. He wiped the red-speckled spittle away gently. Two fingers were broken, he realized with a sigh.
“What have you found?” rumbled a voice on high.
“An elf, wandering in the mountains. He had this.” The orc held up the torn sash, displaying the colors and crest of Gondolin. “He has refused to speak.”
“He will not refuse me. Get him up!”
Maeglin was hauled to his feet and dragged before the vile lord. “I am Morgoth,” he said in a voice to make most tremble.
“Are you? Pleased to meet you,” answered Maeglin cockily.
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I know I do not have to jump, yet it seems easier than what the future holds. One hand gone, and the other burned, resigned to a semi-orphaned life without my brothers, save for Maglor.
He really was the only reason I kept on, until the twins came along. Now that they are grown enough, there is no need for me, and I have no need for a world I never would have ventured into had it not been for an overbearing father I had no courage to speak against.
I find my courage lacking now as well. The jewel I clutch sears my hand even more. What torment it has caused. I pray Maglor can understand my decision as I step off the edge.
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Sweat (WC - ty Britt) by Zhie
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To them, it is the final blow. One last virtual kick in the teeth.
To me, it is redemption. I was led astray once. There are things I did that I am not so proud of now. So much destruction and death. So much was fought for, all for the wrong reasons.
This is my chance to turn everything around. It is not so easy as simply taking the tower down, however. That is only the half of it. The rest is walking away from it, the opportunity to rebuild and reestablish myself as a ruling power.
I hear the cheers around me from subjects and peers alike as the tower falls. Does it really matter what it is as long as it is done?
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Author's Notes:
Celebrian and Elrond
“Here you are -- I have been looking for you everywhere!” Celebrian carefully lifted her dress with one hand and walked across the shingles to the peak of the roof where her husband sat, looking over the valley. She let out a little laugh when Elrond tried to conceal a small, smoking item. “Is that a pipe in your hand?”
With a sigh, Elrond held it up. “Everyone has their vices, darling.”
“Why have you been hiding this from me?” she was curious, hardly upset
“First, I was keeping it from your parents; then, after we married, I did not want the children to see it... I suppose you want me to stop.”
“Actually, I could use a pull of that myself,” smiled Celebrian ruefully.
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Author's Notes:
Celebrian, Elrond
“Are you getting cold? If you are, we should go back.”
“Cold? No, I am fine. I love walking through the garden after the first snowfall.” Celebrian strolled at a leisurely pace beside her betrothed, glad for the conversation. Elrond had been quiet for some time. She glanced at him and noticed his pinkish cheeks and nose, his hands buried in his pockets. “Are you cold?”
“What? Me? N-n-no.” He swallowed to disguise the chatter of his teeth. “No. I am well.”
They walked a few paces more before Elrond turned up his collar and shivered slightly. Celebrian paused. “I am... a little tired,” she said to save his pride.
“Well, we should return to the house immediately then!” He led them back in haste.
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Author's Notes:
Sons of Feanor; Huan; Nerdanel
“Where did you get that?”
“I want one!”
“Can I ride on him?”
Curufin shoved the twins aside he once again demanded an answer. “Where did you get him from?”
“What?” Celegorm idly petted Huan’s large head, which was shoulder height. “Huan? He was a gift.”
“Stop lying – you cannot steal Orome’s hunting dog!”
“I did not,” shouted Celegorm, one arm now protectively placed on the dog’s back. “Orome gave him to me!”
“What is going on in here?” demanded Nerdanel, turning the corner as Maedhros and Caranthir entered the way that Celegorm had. “What is this?” she questioned, pointing at the oversized dog.
“A present,” answered Maedhros.
“Orome gave him to Celegorm,” chimed in Caranthir.
Celegorm smirked at a baffled Curufin. “Told you so.”
Author's Notes:
Elrond & Kiddles
"Snow! There is snow!”
Elrohir rolled over, pillow covering his head. “Why are you so happy—hey! Give my blanket back!”
“Come on! Hurry!”
“Why, Elladan? It is not going anywhere!”
Elladan put his pants and boots on over his nightclothes. His sweater was backwards, but he grabbed a pair of mittens and playfully smacked his brother’s head with them. “I want to see it fresh and white. See you down there!”
“Not if I can help it,” mumbled Elrohir, but Arwen roused him soon after.
When Elrond joined them outside, Arwen and Elladan were building a fort. He found Elrohir at the door, bundled in a fur cloak. “Not joining them?”
“I hate snow,” mumbled Elrohir.
“So did your uncle,” whispered Elrond to himself.
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Forgiveness (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Haldir and Arwen
“Sorry I am late,” apologized Haldir. “I was cleaning my closet.”
“Ah.” Arwen nodded. “I understand. I like to keep my closets clean, too.”
Haldir chuckled, knowing he was being teased a bit by his best friend. “Wait, what do you mean, closets. How many do you have?”
“Just three.”
“Oh, just three,” he said; his turn to tease now.
“One each for winter, summer, and shoes,” replied Arwen, as if it was most natural to have multiple closets for one’s wardrobe.
Haldir’s brows arched. “One just for shoes? How many pairs do you have?”
“A girl needs a lot of shoes. Different colors, different kinds.”
“But you can only wear one pair at a time.” He paused. “Must be a girl thing.”
Arwen smirked.
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Author's Notes:
Erestor, Glorfindel, and naughty words
“You probably already know this,” drawled the blond, sprawled on his back, to the darkling ellon hovered over him, “but you have a magnificently huge cock. Hung like one of your horses. So firm... unyielding... makes me want to get onto my hands and knees and beg to be fucked all night by you.”
Erestor pretended to look appalled as he stroked the item in question, hand fisted firmly at the base. “It amazes me that one who appears so pure can have such a vulgar vocabulary.”
“Perhaps if my mouth is so filthy,” countered Glorfindel with a mirthful smirk, “you should not be attempting to stick your dick into it.” He lifted his head, and flicked his tongue.
Erestor snorted, and did so anyhow.
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor re: Feanor
“I cannot understand that little one at the festival yesterday.”
“Which one? The one who was gushing about Feanor being his hero?” Glorfindel and Elrond were sitting in the parlor, waiting for Erestor.
Elrond nodded. “Knowing what he did, how can anyone perceive him in such a way? Perhaps the child does not know the full story.”
“There are many elflings fully aware of Feanor’s deeds who still hold him in high regard.” As Erestor entered, Glorfindel added, “And a few full grown elves as well.”
“Inferring something?” asked Erestor as he sat down, eyes glued to his book.
“You envy Feanor,” said Glorfindel simply. Erestor did not deny it.
“Why?” questioned Elrond.
Erestor looked up. “If you have to ask, you will never understand.”
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Acceptance (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Elrond, Gil-Galad --- based off the idea of Elrond's foresight into things
“There are days such as this one when I think of how nice it would be to climb into a boat and set sail on the sea.”
Elrond turned in his chair and gave his mentor a sad smile. “We could go fishing this afternoon.”
“No, it would only depress me more.” Gil-Galad sighed. “If only I were not me, I would just find a canoe and paddle it to Valinor.”
“If it is your wish to sail, perhaps you should.”
“You are supposed to counsel me not to think such things.”
“I learned long ago that it is wiser to encourage decisions like this.”
For a minute, Gil-Galad stared out the window. “I will never sail, will I, Elrond?”
Elrond shook his head. “No.”
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Author's Notes:
Celegorm, Curufin & Luthien
“I have no intention of staying here, or of marrying you!” Luthien crossed her arms, defiant as she had been since her captivity began. “You may as well end your perverse game now. I am certain my father sent an army after me.”
“Oh, really? Where are they? Have you seen an army?” Celegorm asked Curufin. The latter shook his head. “Sooner or later, I prefer sooner, you will accept your fate and agree to wed me.”
“I have no intention of that.”
Celegorm shrugged. “Then I suppose ours will be a tumultuous marriage. Marriage, I am sure you know, does not always mean a ceremony. We need only bond... our bodies.”
Luthien blinked. “You would enslave me in such a relationship?”
“If I must.”
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Night (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Daeron speaking with Fingon
It came about in the showers after the playhouse performance. Fingon was washing his hair; Daeron had just stepped in. “Fin, can I ask you something about... how you are?”
“About being a dancer?”
“No, the... about you, being—“
“I know what you meant.”
“Oh.”
Fingon smirked as he washed his hair. “Go ahead, ask.”
Daeron gave a long pause. “So, do you think it’s hereditary?”
“No, because neither my father nor my son are.”
“Oh, good. Because, I think my son is.. and I love my wife... so...“
“So, what, exactly?” wondered Fingon curiously.
“I was a little worried, if it was hereditary, that I might be, you know, like that.”
Fingon rolled his eyes and playfully hit his friend in the head.
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Author's Notes:
Fingolfin, Finarfin
“Then he blocked my way and pointed his blade at me. I knew he had a temper, but honestly, there was no reason for it.” Fingolfin was pacing back and forth while his brother quietly sat and listened. “I swear, he is going mad.”
“Do you think he would have hurt you, if there had been no witnesses?” asked Finarfin.
Fingolfin continued to wear his path into the rug. “His behavior worries me.”
“But do you think he would kill you?”
“With how he has been acting... the look in his eyes... it would not surprise me if he were to kill one of his own sons.”
“It could not be that bad, Fingolfin,” murmured Finarfin.
Fingolfin frowned. “I think our brother has gone mad.”
Author's Notes:
Finrod Felagund, Amarie
My brothers and sister have found their matches, or so it seems. Some of my cousins have found lovers and spouses as well; some have found each other. I wonder when I shall find my other half. Will we cross paths accidentally, or will my mother meddle and plan our meeting? Is she a close friend, or an acquaintance yet undiscovered? Will she be pale, with dark hair like the depths of the sea, or a daughter of Laurelin’s light, fair of skin with golden hair and sky-blue eyes?
Idle thoughts cloud my mind, and I nearly miss the lady traveling the opposite way. My arm knocks her basket, and I stop and smile my apology. She smiles back at me; my question is answered.
Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Erestor
After a long search, Glorfindel finally found who he sought. Erestor sat on the overhang of the house, peering at small celebration below. “You are hard to find.”
“Who said I wanted to be found?” Erestor watched Glorfindel reveal a smashed clump of leaves. “What is that?” he asked. As Glorfindel slid closer and lifted it above them, Erestor laughed and shook his head. “No, Fin.”
“Oh, come on, you have to.”
“On the contrary,” argued Erestor as he backed his way up against the chimney, but Glorfindel pursued. He bowed his head, and Erestor turned away.
“Fine.” Glorfindel pitched the mistletoe off the roof. “Be that way.”
They sat in silence, until—
“Glorfindel.”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss me.”
“...really?”
“Better hurry before I change my mind.”
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Jasmine (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Fingolfin and Anaire, re: Fingon
After the other couple passed by, Fingolfin said to his wife in a lowered voice, “She only asked you what Turgon was doing; you did not need to embarrass yourself about Fingon.”
“What is so embarrassing about what he does? He is a beautiful dancer.”
“That is just it,” hissed Fingolfin. “I never expected to hear the word beautiful used to describe my son, or anything he does. Did you see the looks on their faces? No one understands what it is he does. They all think the same thing: Eldest son of Fingolfin, a dancer?”
“They are not the ones who need to understand,” countered Anaire before leaving her husband standing alone in the marketplace. “You are the only one who needs to understand.”
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Author's Notes:
Sons of Feanor; Finwe; Feanor
“Where are we going?” Curufin finally dared to ask. He and his brothers had spent the day packing as instructed, though the reason and destination were yet untold.
“Away,” ground out Feanor as he threw a cloak across the room, knocking a box off of the table.
“I want to go live with Nana instead,” Ambarussa said quietly to his twin.
Caranthir hefted a sack across the room. “If grandfather is coming, then we should bring the cat and board up the windows.”
Feanor seethed, but instead of answering, shoved his way past his own father. Finwe shook his head but continued to pack. “Your uncle will be moving into the house for the time being. Someone must rule the Noldor while we are away.”
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Ereinion
Light fades and I tuck the blanket around my sleeping son. Although the nurse could do this when I leave, it seems right for me to tend to Ereinion what little I can. My schedule allows so few moments to see him, or his mother.
I look across the room, past the rocking chair and changing table to the alcove where my wife sleeps. A bond of marriage and binding through the birth of our son, and still, her presence does little to comfort me; her purpose little more than the means of bearing an heir. Like the mares used for breeding, she no longer enjoys the bliss of freedom or the joys of freewill. My heart aches for what I am putting her through.
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Author's Notes:
Aredhel, Fingon
Fingon leaned against the door of his sister’s room. “Can I come in here?”
“Turgon annoying you?” asked Aredhel. When Fingon nodded, she patted an empty spot on the vanity bench. He came in and sat down. “You should ask Ada for your own room.”
Fingon shrugged and watched his sister concentrate on her reflection as she applied rouge. “What do you do with this?” he asked as he picked up a small black stick wrapped in linen from a tray on the counter.
“Here, let me show you.” Aredhel took the item from him. Holding his chin, she used used the makeup to accent his eyes. “There. Take a look.”
“Oh... I like it,” he grinned.
“Do NOT let Ada see it,” warned Aredhel.
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Breeze (WC - ty Siesta) by Zhie
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Author's Notes:
Gildor, Erestor, Glorfindel
“Might I trouble you to write something for me?” asked Gildor as he sauntered over to Erestor, who was beneath a tree reading.
“Certainly – your eulogy, perhaps?”
Gildor flinched. “Harsh, dear counselor, quite harsh.” He played it off, but the comment hit a nerve and put a smirk on Erestor’s face. “Never mind, on second thought, I want this legible.”
Before Erestor could formulate another insult, Glorfindel jogged over. He nodded at Erestor, and then gave Gildor a peck on the cheek. “Are we still having lunch?”
“Lunch, and dessert,” drawled Gildor. “Meet me in my rooms,” he said. As Glorfindel turned to go, Gildor gave him a pat on the rear, making Glorfindel blush. “Jealous?” he asked after Glorfindel left.
“Hardly,” mumbled Erestor unconvincingly.
Author's Notes:
Turgon, Elenwe, Fingon
“What is this ‘doom’ everyone keeps worrying about? Doom, schmoom, once in Middle-earth, the Valar cannot reach us. Some curse if you cannot find the ones that have been cursed. Besides, how much sense does it make to curse us if they love us, as they claim?” Turgon’s rant had begun before they began crossing the Helcaraxe, and promised to continue long after.
“Brother, why not pause and breathe or something?” suggested Fingon.
Turgon paused with a huff, one arm around his wife, his other hand holding his walking stick. “I suppose you believe in this stupid, idiotic curse,” he said as he took a step forward, slamming down his walking stick. Everyone stopped as the sound of cracking ice tore through the frigid air.
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Cheese (WC - ty Book Maven) by Zhie
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Shadow (WC - ty Jo) ** by Zhie
Living in the shadows, beneath the trees and within the caves, was something Aredhel adapted to easier than she would have expected. The sun had always seemed less familiar to her, and the nightly walks beneath the stars with her husband rekindled her love for the time of the trees, when the stars were visible both day and night and the world was a calmer, more peaceful place.
It depressed her at times, but not for the reason that Eol might have thought. She was not unhappy to be with him, but rather, that they could not have met in Valinor, that he could not have been there. Perhaps, had that been the case, they might be there still, and the shadow would not be.
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Author's Notes:
Finrod, Aegnor, Angrod, Orodreth
“How exciting,” said Orodreth once Finrod had given his brothers the news. “We are to be uncles!”
“And he to be wed, no doubt,” added Aegnor.
The smile on Finrod’s face softened. “No.”
“What exactly do you mean, no? Love, marriage, baby... normally in that order, but once you hit the first and last the one in the middle is inevitable, and, well, done already.” said Angrod.
Finrod shook his head. “Her wish is to keep living with her parents, and I have no desire to leave here.”
“And... when the child is born?” wondered Orodreth.
“I will visit, of course, provide as I am able to.” Finrod frowned. “Why the long faces? You should be happy for me.”
Aegnor shrugged. “We are, I think.”
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Author's Notes:
Celebrimbor, Erestor
“It would seem you have far surpassed your grandfather’s skill at the craft,” remarked Erestor quietly after the rings had been presented and accepted, tested willingly by those who wielded them.
“It would seem,” replied Celebrimbor.
The majority of those few who were assembled were gathered around the ring bearers, but Erestor held himself back. There was more than caution: Fear, perhaps. He asked Celebrimbor in a whisper that could almost be mistaken for mind speak, “Is the power in the ring, or in the jewel the bearer wears?”
“The power is in the spirit of the one who possesses it.” Celebrimbor smiled slyly. “It is the only way the rings remain safe, unconnected. My skills are not greater.”
“Perhaps, but your solution is craftier.”
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Author's Notes:
Elrond, Celebrian
We never discuss it.
Maybe I should press her about it. Somehow, it seems it would be therapeutic, for both of us. She guards us from the truth, thinking it would cause us more harm to know exactly what happened. As for myself, sometimes I think I conjure up images more horrible, and other times I wonder if my imagination could ever create the horrors she endured. All I have are unexpected glimpses of the past, when...
“Elrond... please, no.”
“Did I hurt you?” I draw fully away in a panic. I would never hurt her. Never.
A soft sniffle, and then... “No, just... please do not... do not touch me like that.”
I nod vigorously in the dark, no need to be told twice.
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I loathe to be reborn, to be thrust back into the world as a weak, mewling, incompetent babe. That it is told that we will forget all we know, even for a little while, is wholly unappealing to me. I would rather my spirit remain intact and pure than have the slate wiped clean.
Maybe my concern is that they would rewrite my own mind while I have no control over it. I would not put it past them. My longing for the physical world grows strong, but always I remind myself that a hundred years is a long time.
What if they decide it should be longer? Can I trust them? No. And so here I continue to dwell, spirited, formless, but always, Feanor.
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The worst part of my imprisonment was not, contrary to what anyone might think, the actual imprisonment itself. The first few hours were the worst torment, as I hung there, suspended over the chasm. Within a few days when I could no longer wiggle my fingers, I knew my hand was dead. The pain stopped, though at times my arm throbbed to my wrist, my right hand no longer bothered me.
Instead, it was the hunger, the gnawing pain in my stomach. My muscles diminished, my skin tightened over bones that threatened to split through my flesh. I was delirious for days at a time, with rainwater being the only reprieve from my torture. It was a temporary solution, for the unbearable hunger always returned.
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Author's Notes:
Erestor re: Glorfindel
You believe I do not know. You think I would reject you.
You are obvious. You are tempting. You are different.
You must have some idea of how I feel. You have to wonder at the very least.
You excite me. You delight me. You turn me inside out and upside down.
You are all I have. You are all I need.
You make the simple things unique. You make my bitter world sweet.
You have touched me. You have kissed me. You have held me. You have missed me.
You are incomplete. You need me. You are so close.
You have to be the one to be the one to do it.
You love me. You are loved by me.
But... I am afraid.
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Author's Notes:
Gildor, Galadriel
“Do you ever think about going back to Lindon?”
“And... doing what, exactly?” Gildor moved aside as one of the canvas covered wagons moved to a different position in the caravan.
“Rebuild it,” suggested Galadriel. “The soil is yet rich and not everything was destroyed.”
“Perhaps some buildings yet stand, but too many hopes and dreams died there. When I took leadership of these refugees, I did so knowing they had no desire to return to the ruin.”
“What about you?” pressed Galadriel as Gildor mounted his horse. “What is your desire?”
Gildor sat in silence, a smile brightening the mood of his departure. “Knowledge, as always, and I learn more doing than reading.”
“Ever like his father,” murmured Galadriel as he nephew rode away.
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Author's Notes:
Aredhel, Turgon
Aredhel perched upon the edge of the chair beside her brother’s throne. She wasted no time with idle talk. “Too long have I lingered within these high walls, gate upon gate trapping me within. Once we rode and hunted in what woods are here in Gondolin, but now the crown sits heavy upon my brother’s brow. It is my wish to see Fingon.
“Our brother is busied with his own troubles.”
“Perhaps; and yet, it is what I desire.”
Turgon dared not look at her, knowing he would give in sooner. “You ask my leave, and I forbid you to go. I have doubts that my word will keep you here.”
“Perhaps a little while it might, but my will is stronger than mere words.”
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Author's Notes:
Elrond, and...
Elrond’s favorite naughty thing was sneaking up on Celebrian... and catching her. Catch perhaps was not the right term... more, sneak up and tickle her or some silly thing. However, about three steps away, no matter how stealthy he was, she knew. She just knew. The trouble was being a peredhel trying to prey on... oh, there she was!
It was dark-- that always helped. She was bent over the wash basin, long wavy hair obscuring her sight. Thick towel wrapped around her, washing her face, readying for bed... all too easy!
Elrond took three quick steps into the tiny chamber, and grabbed her behind. “Caught you, my dear,” he growled.
Imagine his surprise as he heard Glorfindel’s tenor voice cheekily answer, “Now what, darling?”
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel
Funny, how little I remember of it. I can still hear the confusion, the panic as it shadowed us and beat its wings with menace. I drew my sword, I shouted at it – what, I barely recall, some insult I am certain, to attract the attention away from all others and put its focus onto me.
And then... there is nothing, as if erased from my mind. The accounts I have read mention the horrendous burning, my clothes and hair on fire. Minstrels have sung of the battle, how hard and long I fought, how brave I was. What I do recall is very dreamlike, when you awake and barely grasp the threads of sleep, except for one thing. I will never forget the fall.
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“You would think that eventually he would give up and go do something else.”
Gil-Galad paused midstride and walked back to the campfire where a dozen soldiers were warming their suppers. “You want to know why Sauron never gives up? He loves a good fight, perhaps more than anything else. He loves power. He loves to win.”
“Well, my lord, why does he always have to come after us? He attacks us harder and more often than he does Men or Dwarves,” stated one of the younger warriors.
“Men... dwarves... neither offer the sort of sport he wants. Men are hearty, but at times they cower before him. Dwarves more often hide in their caves than come forth to fight. But Elves... we never surrender.”
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel; re: Erestor
Patience is a virtue. It rings in my ears as my mantra.
I am alone with him now. In a house vast enough for hundreds to live in, only he and I haunt the halls. Every time I see him lurking in a corridor, I want to call out to him, fling my arms around him... but I resist.
Patience is a virtue...
We sit together for meals often, for there is no one else to sit with. I steal glances every moment I get, be it in conversation or when he sips his drink. I want to slide into his lap, lick the wine from his lips... but I resist.
Patience is a virtue...
I want to hold him, have him...
Damn my patience.
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Author's Notes:
Feanor, Finarfin re: Fingolfin
“Why do you hate our brother?”
“What?” Feanor evaded the question the best he knew how – with other questions. “Why do you think I hate him?”
Finarfin was sitting on a chair too big for him, little legs dangling off. His other siblings were old enough to help their mother set out the meal, but this brother who refused to live in the same house was always exempt from such chores and often gave Nana disturbing looks. “’Cause I heard you say you did.”
“Oh, really? And when was that?”
“Last time you were here. You and Ada were talking and I was hiding behind the door.”
Feanor gave his youngest sibling a stern look. “Sneaking and spying are very low things to do, Finarfin.”
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Author's Notes:
Erestor, Elrond, and...
“This is silly.”
Elrond sighed. “Erestor, this is an exercise in trust. I need my council members to trust one another.”
The blindfold was lifted. He glared at Elrond as he spoke. “By falling backwards and hoping not to land on my ass. I would rather not.”
“You have to trust me and trust your fellow—“
“I am much heavier than I look,” interrupted Erestor to much laughter.
Elrond threw his arms upwards. “Put your blindfold on; I will catch you.”
Resignedly, Erestor did as told. At least it would be done quickly. He went limp, but was caught by arms more powerful than his lord.
“You are heavy,” whispered a voice.
“Put me down, Fin.”
“But, then you would land on your ass.”
Author's Notes:
Fingon, Anaire
“Sweetheart, come here.” Anaire tried to mask the concern in her voice as her son approached. When Fingon stopped in front of her, she took hold of his wrist. Her fingers wrapped around the slender joint. “You need to have lunch, Fin.”
“I would just have to practice longer to lose the weight,” he argued.
“Lift up your shirt,” his mother insisted.
“Aiya! Nana...” but he did as asked, rolling his eyes when she gasped.
“Get into that kitchen now! I can see your ribs,” she said, her hands shaking as she touched one of the bones that jutted out.
“I am in shape,” he answered tersely. “This is normal.”
“You are starving yourself!”
“I am fine!” Fingon tugged down his shirt and stomped off.
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Author's Notes:
Ambarussa, Maedhros (after Ambarto's death)
“Ambarussa! Draw back!”
Maedhros took another swing, hewing two of his foe at once, before leaping down to aid his youngest living sibling. “Did you hear me?” he shouted after he helped Ambarussa cut down the last of the orcs that had been surrounding him. “Fall back! There are too many!”
Ambarussa turned to his brother, his eyes as red as his hair. “I could have handled them.”
“These, yes, but not the others that are coming!” Maedhros shoved Ambarussa up the slope, climbing up behind him. “I have never seen you so careless,” he scolded once they were safe.
“What does it matter?”
“Because this is not us playing back home in Orome’s woods – these creatures want to kill us!”
“I am already dead.”
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Author's Notes:
Feanor, Finwe
“Manwe has summoned you to appear for crimes against your brother.”
“Half-brother,” came the icy reply.
Finwe placed his hands upon his eldest. “Through me he is your brother. It was an ill choice to draw sword against him.”
“So? It was a disagreement between siblings. Why should I go to stand before the Valar? They do not rule us! Aye, they led us here, but I never chose Manwe as my king!”
“Then who would you choose as king, my son?”
The answer was immediate. “You, father. You are the only king I know.”
Finwe dropped his hands from Feanor’s shoulders. “Then your king commands you to stand before Manwe and be judged.”
“If my king wills it, I shall go,” said Feanor softly.
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Earnur
“Tell me again, why did we not pursue him?”
Glorfindel had gone back to his tent for the night, and now sat up from his cot. “Because, Eärnur, neither you nor I can vanquish him.”
“But he cowed before you. You made no attempt to kill him!”
“It would be a strategic mistake to try. The nazgûl think I can kill them,” explained Glorfindel. “I cannot. As soon as they figure that out, I am useless.”
Eärnur leaned against one of the tent poles. “Why would they think such a thing?”
“Because they can see me.”
“We can all see you.”
Glorfindel smiled. “Of course. But they can only smell, not see, the rest of you.”
“I do not understand.”
“I hope you never do.”
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Erestor
“Is that a spider?” Glorfindel scooted away. “Would you...?”
“Hmm?” His companion looked over, and then frowned. “You are afraid of spiders now?”
“Just little ones.”
“But not big ones,” said Erestor, letting the arachnid crawl onto his hand.
“No.”
“How come?”
“Little ones might creep into my hair.” Glorfindel settled again once the spider was relocated.
“Afraid of thunder, of spiders... anything else?”
“Lots.” Glorfindel checked for other eight-legged tormenters. “Bet you have a few fears yourself.”
“Just one.”
“Must be something big.”
“Oh, it is.” Erestor sighed when Glorfindel stared expectantly. “Being alone for eternity.”
‘Pounce him!’ whispered one voice in Glorfindel’s head, while the other chanted, ‘Patience is a virtue.’
“Did you say something?”
Glorfindel bit his lip and shook his head.
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Erestor
“And you were worried you were going to hate it.”
Erestor barely opened his eyes. “I guess I was wrong.”
“And?”
“And... I guess you were right.”
Glorfindel propped himself up with one arm. “And?”
“And...” Erestor let his eyes close again. “And I am tired?”
“And?” prodded Glorfindel.
“And... I am going to sleep now.”
A finger poked Erestor’s shoulder. “And?”
“Hmm? What?”
“And?”
“Persistent little thing you are.”
“Little?”
“Oh, so you can start a sentence with a word other than ‘and’!” Erestor grinned, eyes still closed as the pillow whacked him gently.
Glorfindel sighed. “Why must you be difficult?”
“Because.”
“And?” Glorfindel practically pleaded.
“And, I love you.”
“See? Was that really so hard?” Glorfindel asked as he snuggled up against Erestor.
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Author's Notes:
Celegorm, Maedhros, Feanor
There was a problem with putting Maedhros and Maglor on the third floor, and the rest on the first.
“Russ-an-dol!! Where is my dog?!”
“Wherever you left him!” came the bellowed reply.
“No, he is not!”
“Well, call him, Celegorm!! Stop shouting at me!”
“Yes, please, do stop.” Feanor took hold of Celegorm by the neck and yanked him down from the landing. “That goes double for you, Maitimo!” he yelled upwards.
No answer.
“Maitimo!”
Still no answer.
“Russ—“ Feanor cleared his throat as Maedhros appeared at the top of the steps. “Why were you not answering?”
“I thought I would come here instead of shouting.” Maedhros looked past his father at Celegorm. “I saw Ambarussa with Huan through the window, in the yard.”
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Author's Notes:
Glorfindel, Erestor
“Of the metals, gold is far more precious. Why, therefore, covet silver above it?”
“Silver is like the stars,” explained Erestor. “It reminds us where we came from, and who we are.” He watched his friend polish his armor, damasked in fine detail. “Why gold, then?”
“I suppose it reminds me where I came from. My house, for one, the sun, for the other. I do not have such memories as you,” Glorfindel reminded Erestor. “My days of youth were spent beneath Anor, not the blessed jewels of Elbereth.”
Erestor nodded. “Dangerous, though. Your armor does not camouflage you. You stand out among the sea of silver.”
“Yes, I know,” said Glorfindel. “But then, there are a million stars, and yet still only one sun.”
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“You.. you are Feanor’s son.”
The comment might have startled him in the recent past. Now it was becoming such an easy thing to deny. “No,” replied Maglor quietly, pulling his hood down a little more. “I am from Doriath. Berdreth is my name.”
“Forgive me; you looked familiar.” The ellon looked about to say more, but turned back to the conversation he was having at his table.
Maglor quickly crossed the pub and climbed the stairs to the room he was staying in. Bareness, save for the vase of chrysanthemums, greeted him as he shut the door and removed his gloves. The scars would always remain; a constant reminder of whom he was and always would be. No amount of denial could change that.
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