elithilanor
Haldir and Co.
Side blog for Tolkien content ⚔️Keeper of the Lothlórien Wardens🌳TERFs, fascists, racists, homophobes, and Minors DNI Safe space for trans and aspecLate 20s queer , They/Them
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Happy Sunday, Fellowship! 💜
Writers, now is your chance to tease one of your works! Share with us (approximately) six sentences on the story you're working on. If you don't have anything to share just yet, go add six sentences to your current WIP!
Readers, do you want to participate? Challenge yourself to leaving a 6 sentence comment on a fanfic, or even one of the six sentence snippets shared by your favorite writers!
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Imagine Thranduil wondering why you wander away from his kingdom every so often. When he goes to investigate, he finds you carefully clearing the tangled vines and plants away from the statue of his wife.
Author: @thatkgrl
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Elrond Peredhel; in Imladris
Elrond Peredhel, in the Second age, in the newly established Imladris which stood finished in S.A. 1700 Of the Sun (1697-1700)
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Chapter Update: Beneath a Boundless Sky
LOTR fanfic | Elrond Centered with Ensemble Cast | hurt/comfort and action/adventure | Part 2 of the And the Stars Shine the Same series
20: Lothlórien
Elladan and Elrohir rest, consult their grandparents, and receive a surprise tool that will come in handy later ;)
FULL FIC SUMMARY
READ FROM PROLOGUE
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I NEED TO READ I NEED TO WRITE I NEED TO CREATE I NEED TO DRAW I NEED TO CLEAN I NEED TO WORK OUT I NEED TO LEARN *watches YouTube for 6 hours*
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Fun little photo study for Day 2 of @nolofinweanweek - Elenwë
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You said to send short asks, is it OK if for me to request a short ask about glorfindel and a female s/o relationship headcannons?
Totally cool if you don't!
Anon this is the very first ask I get for a Tolkien character x reader HC! *gasp* Thank you, whoever you are.
All right, this is with Third-Age-Glorfindel in mind...
CW: ever so slightly suggestive
Despite being well loved for reasons too many to count, Glorfindel warms up slowly to others on a personal level. When he does, the depth of his affection is boundless.
He often feels the burdening of Ages but hides it well beneath his mild disposition and a carefree outlook. With you in his life, it comes as a surprise that he resorts to that way of coping less and less.
He'll say, resting with you on a warm afternoon somewhere at the top of the valley, gazing at Rivendell from afar: "You... you are kindling." And he'll press your palm to his heart, so you understand.
When he returns from patrols in the wilderness, he will always get the bathing and changing over with as fast as he can, just so he can crawl into bed next to you. He'll rest with his head against your chest, sighing and tangling his legs with yours. The tightness of his hold is an expression of how much he missed this, sleepily murmuring words that send you into a fever.
And then he falls asleep.
The beautiful bastard.
When a full day of training, diplomacy or whatever else is done, you'll sometimes take refuge in your chambers; you adore the way his gaze mellows at the sight of you when Glorfindel joins, his dimpled smile a warming balm. If you're reading in an armchair, he'll shrug off his outer robe and plop down by your feet in nothing but his simple undertunic and leggings, hugging your legs and pressing his forehead against your clothed knees.
He knows you won't last long before you set the book aside, loves how you enjoy playing with that bright, silky hair of his. You hear low, contented sighs when your fingers tangle and bury themselves in his strands; he'll rub his cheek against your thigh in a languid, feline manner, smiling and breathing slowly to unwind.
He makes no great deal of it, but Glorfindel has a wonderful singing voice; he'll hum old Valinorean tunes for you in the mornings or during treks together through the surrounding woods, happily explaining their meaning and origin (some are satire, which makes it irreverently fun)
Glorfindel is a living flame. It's as though he was reembodied with powers and affinities especially designed to defy the manner of his untimely, traumatizing death. He has no nightmares of fire: he is one with it, now. His spiritual power vibrates against you in silver and gold, sending your nerves sizzling and your spirit in a swoon.
Even his body temperature rises to surprising intensity in certain special moments: you've come to crave that undulating warmth beneath his skin.
And oh, he's more than eager to oblige.
You were delighted to find that Glorfindel, Lord Glorfindel the warrior, actually can employ the finest of charms when he wants to (and is a horrible tease besides).
For all the positions of authority he's held throughout the centuries, this Elf simply loves it when you take the lead; sometimes even begs it of you. When you straddle him as he lies on his back, giggling and biting his lip at the pleasant weight of your body. When you pin him down by the wrists, look him in the eye and pant out your demands, telling him exactly what you need and where you need it.
He can tell, anyway, he always checks with you in thought.
He just loves hearing you say it.
Or moan it.
Sometimes, when he's exhausted or lost in you, he'll slip into Quenya, forgetting you don't understand a word of his mother tongue. But the sound of it is so alluring, so indescribably beautiful (especially in his voice), that you nearly moan from the mere whisper of it in your ear.
You've only ever experienced Glorfindel drunk once, on an occasion commemorating the old Gates of Summer festival. He was quiet that day, distant, barring your thought when you tried reaching him and often disappearing from sight, away from the others. You gave him space, and halfway through the silent watch of the night, left for rest.
No sooner did you change and was standing at the side of the bed than he appeared, closing the doors behind him and leaning against them, his gaze flickering with golden sparks in the dark. His step wavered only once as he slowly moved towards you, but you knew. You waited, looked on as he reached you, pressing one large palm to your chest and pushing so you fell onto the soft bed; you tasted hot wine on his tongue, understood, and held him tightly as he took frantic refuge into you.
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ok im really curious do you guys have books you consider your "white whale"? as in books you keep telling yourself oh yeah i really want to read that, but you keep not reading it?
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Feanor, greatest of the Eldar
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Day 1 of asking the silmarillion fandom (the feanorian part of it especially) to call Feanaro by his Quenya name
1. This is the most direct and correct way to oppose to Thingol’s ban of Quenya and opposing the ban is opposing to cultural erasure. It’s what Feanaro would have wanted.
2. Feanaro is only one more letter than Feanor, you don’t even have to put the accents if you don’t feel like it. Come on! It’s not that hard
3. Feanaro probably never had a reason (canonically) to Sindarize his name since the Quenya version is close enough the Sindarized one and he died too young. By calling him Feanaro you will also be reminding everyone else that he died before the rising of the Sun.
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I read this at 4am and thought how wonderful it was and how accurate I feel the dating portion is and then absolutely crashed the fuck out
But this is absolutely wonderful and you should know that!!!
Soulmates AU: Figwit/Rúmil or Figwit/Haldir @melpomaenofimladris
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Nenboop, Narboop, and Vilboop: the three elven boops of power.
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@runawaymun especially
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
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another lotr trilogy piece. i love liv tyler as arwen 🤍
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i want 60 thousand votes by next thursday
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