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elevenelvenswords · 4 months

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Cross-posted on AO3.

The night seemed quiet to Celegorm. Despite the clamor raging on in Tirion, the chaos and utter dismay rising like dreadful clouds of smoke, all noise seemed drowned out around him. He should be grateful for it, for it was with clear intent that he asked Curufin to follow him, to leave that engulfing atmosphere and the people gravitating to it behind. It felt like too much, too soon. The ill news of their grandsire’s passing were not yet gone from his mind, nor the numb shock that they had caused. The sight of his father mourning- the way he tore at his hair, plucking strands clean off the scalp, growling in grief and such bitter anger that it was almost painful for others to behold it. The defilement of their homeland, the strife emerging with violent promptitude between the great Noldorin houses, the ceaseless doubts and fights festering within them all. It felt like impending annihilation. Like a winged shadow it followed their every step now.

Too much, too soon.

Sick to the very core he grew of the preparation for their departure. Of his brothers’ bickering, of his mother’s tears and his father’s foul moods of late. He wished for nothing more than a brief respite. He wished to leave it all behind, even if it was for a little while. Air seemed insufficient in the midst of the city and its mayhem.

Thus he and Curufin saddled their horses and galloped away. Celegorm led, bidding his horse make haste and fly over obstacles rather than go ‘round them. The faster he could get away, the better. Wind whipped across his face and his eyes watered. He blinked the tears away. Saliva frothed upon his horse’s mouth. He patted it on the neck, whispering encouragement to it. His thighs ached with the effort of riding so relentlessly, so recklessly. He squeezed them tighter to his mount’s sides. Resolute in his purpose, he soon left his brother lagging behind.

Climbing atop a hill bordering the northern forest that looked down on the peaks of Tirion, he halted his horse. Curufin joined him soon after.

They talked for a while, filling in the devouring silence. Useless nonsense it was; something about the supplies and how they might ration them on the road, something about Caranthir’s horse growing restless lately and how he might need a new steed that wouldn’t throw him from its back. Nonsense that served as a much welcomed distraction. Celegorm was glad for it. But before long, Curufin wished to depart.

“Safe travels then,” Celegorm said to him, absently poking at a patch of grass with the tip of his boot.

“You shouldn’t linger for too long,” Curufin replied, throwing the reins over his mare’s head. “Father will start to ask questions.”

Celegorm snorted in derision. “Yes, I am sure he’ll be sick with worry. I’ve always been his favourite son, after all.”

Curufin watched him in silence. Seconds trickled by in solemn stillness, a soft wisp of cold air setting the leaves above in bashful motion. No bird song could be heard anymore, nor the comforting buzzing of insects crawling among the foliage. Celegorm suddenly wondered if the hunting grounds he so loved had become a misshapen mirror of his soul. Perhaps the deadness of his heart pulsed out its hatred, and the darkness pooling like hot magma into his chest was infectious, corruptive. Returning to a place of laughter and delight before embarking upon the dreadful journey ahead might have been a mistake, after all. He did not wish to remember those lands as such- quiet, hopeless, engulfed in lengthening shadows and brisk despair.

By the time Celegorm deemed to turn his mournful gaze back towards the road whence he had come, Curufin was already nudging his horse forward, urging it down the slopes of the hills. Perhaps he had bidden Celegorm his farewell, or even asked him to join him, but Celegorm was unhearing.

He turned his attention to the tall trees. Dark and twisted they seemed to him now, heedless of his sorrows and worries. Towering over him like reminders of doom, turned from protectors and guides to beacons of the Great Powers’ scorn. Even so, he walked amongst them. Dauntless or simply uncaring, he couldn’t quite tell.

He walked lightly, pushing branches out of his way, but the purpose of his own pursuit he knew not.

The soft yet indistinguishable crack of a twig made his ears twitch, straining in search of the next sound. Slowly he flexed them, drawing them back towards his nape, intently listening. No other sound followed, but he knew the first one had come from somewhere above, and the culprit lay concealed by the thick branches arching their slender fingers upwards and inwards. Something pressed down upon his fëa, a heavy burden threatening to crush and devour, licking hungrily at his skin. Though no wind blew there and his raiments were thick about him, goosebumps prickled across his skin and he shivered. Malevolence seemed to seep through the tree barks, trickling even by his boots. Like tendrils of dark power it slithered up his feet, his calves, and disdainfully he watched as the thin tentacles probed at his trousers. It seemed to him that they searched for a way in, for a way to reach him. Celegorm considered kicking at them, pushing against them with the strength of his own will, for what further hurt could they truly inflict upon him, after all that had come to pass? But as one frozen in time he stood, and he watched them, and they hurt him not. Carefully he extended his fingers, allowing one of the stretching tendrils to lick at his fingertips. Where he expected cold, warmth pierced through, and the things coiling about his feet squeezed in what felt to him like encouragement. A strange feeling of familiarity rang in those touches, as though intent coursed through their feeble existence.

The ruffling of leaves above stirred him from his curiosity. He still did not turn around. Not at the off-putting scraping sounds upon wood, not at the uneasiness that suddenly coursed through him. If anything, it bound him to his stillness. The slithering vines wriggled at his feet, they clutched at his trousers, and their touch was suddenly all-too-familiar. It bore the will of another, a greater one than himself, and nothing about it appeared harmful to him. No, there was tenderness behind it.

The gnarled arms of the trees above shifted, parted, exposing the clear sky above. A stray ray of starlight glimmered down but by its grace Celegorm was unmoved. The things at his feet withered and perished, withdrawing with alarming quickness, but Celegorm heeded them not. The branches moved once again, and behind him something –no, someone- dragged its body weight.

Celegorm inhaled deeply as that presence and all of the things emanating from it bled away into recognition.

“You may show yourself now, lord,” Celegorm said flatly. His eyes stared straight ahead, darkened, his gaze unfocused and aimless amidst the cold mass of the forest. “I am not yet deprived of my senses.”

Silence settled in for a few moments and Celegorm looked behind him, at long last.

From high above, the creature regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and longing. A ridged beast skull covered its face, white and slender, its curves looping around the wearer’s features. Two twisted antlers curved their way upwards where they divided into lopsided, bony extensions. Akin to a stag’s head it seemed to Celegorm, yet sharp incisors gleamed in the starlight, set within the jaw left slightly agape. In spite of the crudity of that body part, the thing’s gaze spoke nothing of cruelty or ill-intent. It spoke nothing of scorn. Burrowed within two slanted cavities of the skull, a pair of soft green eyes peered down at him, slowly blinking.

A sudden twinge of sorrow stabbed through Celegorm’s chest. Thickly he swallowed as the creature’s two sets of arms moved to grab onto the tree, as claws left their marks upon the bark in its passing. Down it slid, with feline grace descending from its hiding place. The angles at which its body bent and contorted set uneasiness throbbing through Celegorm, but he feared it not. He had seen it do stranger things. He had known its touch and voice, and safety at its hands had always been guaranteed. No matter how terrifying the form it chose. No matter how immense and powerful and wild.

Slowly it discarded the mask; embedded into its very flesh, the skull retracted into the skin and muscle. Visceral and violent seemed that shift in appearance, the metamorphosis of the hröa, and Celegorm watched with the same fascination as ever.

He had told himself that, if the fates wished to grant him one last meeting with the thing he most loved in that realm, his heart would be closed and well-guarded against any assault by the common sentimentalities he used to fall prey to. But oh how sorely mistaken he was.

For there upon the places he ardently wished to escape, before the face of his soul’s dearest song and curse, he felt his heart quiver –and perhaps only for a moment, stop-. How he wished to simply crumble to his knees and leave the tears flow freely; how he wished to take and beg and smash himself bloody upon the shores of the traitorous love that grappled him.

Resolutely he pushed those things aside. Proud and tall he held himself before the huntsman, even as he approached Celegorm.

“Well-met, Fëanorion,” he murmured.

“Oromë,” Celegorm greeted him in return. The name tasted bitter upon his tongue and hard he fought the urge to spit the remnants of it to the ground below.

“I had hoped for a more joyous reunion.”

Celegorm scoffed. Mocking that remark sounded in his ears. Shifting his weight from one leg to another, he frowned at the Vala.

“I had hoped for that too. Yet denied we are in our wishes and prayers of late.” Oromë watched him with calmness that seemed to transcend into mute passivity. Celegorm wondered whether it was intentional or not.

“Each may wish for what they will, yet the fates play their ironies unawares,” Oromë said. The first hints of irritation drove their barbs beneath Celegorm’s at the utterance of such words. “As you may well know by now.”

Apologetic was Oromë’s tone, but to it Celegorm was unhearing.

“Yes, as I well know,” Celegorm hissed, his voice steeped in vitriol. “But do tell me, o’ great Vala, who ever daubs his hand in how the fates turn: how empowering, how exhilarating does it feel to watch little puppets wail over their grievances from the warmth and comfort of your throne?”

The Vala held his silence for a few long moments, tension and resentment overflowing in all of their unpleasantness. Celegorm felt like he might choke on it. Silence would not do; no, not this time. Not when his blood ran hot and perilous in his veins, anger simmering and scorching him from the inside. Disdainfully he held Oromë’s gaze, breathing heavily –in and out- in a fruitless attempt to hold onto whatever shreds of composure yet remained to him.

When the silence stretched on for too long, Oromë infuriatingly still –as though he was a mere statue carved in cold stone, ill-suited to emotion-, Celegorm stepped haughtily forward. And “You will speak to me,” he snarled, “I shall receive answers long overdue.”

Pain and defeat and a myriad other nameless things coiled their way within his chest. How they burned, how they smashed their violent protest against his ribcage. How unfair it seemed to him; Oromë simply stood there, a strange expression clouding his face; something like pity, or something like yearning. Celegorm felt polluted down to the very core, yet guilt swiftly gave way to blistering, blinding fury.

“Speak!” he bellowed, chest heaving and eyes burning in the wake of shameful tears. Oromë did not reply. “Speak, incorrigible fiend! Stop standing there like that, stop staring and fucking talk to me-“

Please.

Hard he panted, but he bade his tears stay. All of those traitorous emotions –sadness, grief, loss, desire, love- he reshaped into rage, revulsion, hatred. He thrust them before him as a shield, impenetrable and fierce.

“What does it feel like to watch me burn whilst you stand unhurt, untouchable as ever upon the summit of your own righteousness?” His voice was quiet now, barely more than a whisper.

“I am not untouchable,” Oromë began in an even voice that had Celegorm on the very verge of bursting into inconsolable tears, “Nor do I partake in the marring of those I hold dear to my heart.”

At that Celegorm laughed; mirthlessly, miserably, he laughed. He tipped his head back and sent his laughter to the mocking stars above as his brows knitted together almost painfully. Oromë swallowed in apprehension.

“You do not partake in marring, say you?” Celegorm scoffed derisively as he stepped closer, until his chest almost brushed Oromë’s. More spitefully he continued then, “How dare you say that to me after all that has come to pass? After all that your brethren have done, after all that you have allowed? My grandsire, our king, lies dead, and my family’s legacy teeters towards ruin. We must endure whilst you sit idly.”

Venom dripped from his words, such was the malice with which he spoke each one of them. Vehemence ignited his eyes and fey was his mood, yet if he expected angry protest in return, or some violent rebuke, Celegorm was left sorely disappointed. For Oromë was seemingly serene; his eyes flickered over Celegorm’s face sadly, as though searching for something that was no longer there. And good, Celegorm thought to himself, let him see that his old friend is dead, let him see that it was he that killed his young, jubilant spirit. Any shame that might pierce underneath Oromë’s skin would be well-deserved. Whatever grief Oromë might experience at the fleeting prospect of loss would be but an insignificant fragment of the raging abyss that yawned open before Celegorm. Betrayal was too small a word to encapsulate the hideous uproar of emotions that screeched inside of him; the enormity of the wound Oromë’s inaction had wrought could not be contained in any earthly language, and Celegorm knew many.

His hands closed into trembling fists at his sides, and though his eyes were glossy with tears, he did not let them fall.

“Was my life truly that unimportant to you?” Celegorm slowly asked, his eyes locked with the Vala’s, “Did you weigh the value of my life and found it worth nothing?”

“Tyelkormo…” Oromë raised a placating hand to the elf’s face, in the same manner he did when Celegorm shattered his humerus after he fell from his saddle in his early youth; in the same way he reassuringly stroked Celegorm’s hair whenever the elf came to him with red-rimmed eyes, claiming that his own father loved him no more. In the same way he let his fingertips gently trace Celegorm’s flushed cheeks as he lay naked and trembling beneath the Vala, a serene smile plastered over his face in the soft afterglow of their passion.

How Celegorm wanted to let himself crumble and simply shriek against the unfairness of it all. Let me stay with you, he wanted to sob. Touch me and let our bodies never part, skin to skin and heart to heart. Yet he violently batted the hand away.

“Do not presume to touch me or utter my name!”

At the abruptness of his voice Oromë flinched and retracted his hand, but it was not without a significant effort that he resisted the urge to ignore Celegorm’s abject fury and draw him into his arms anyway.

“My name is forbidden for treacherous tongues.”

“It is the name that I love,” Oromë replied truthfully. Nausea rolled in Celegorm’s stomach, wretchedly his jaw spasmed as he sought to keep his temper in check. The Vala’s audacity was appalling – “It is, without doubt, your name. The name I called for in my forests and in my halls. My Tyelkormo. Whatever might transpire, your name shall forever be spoken in reverence within my halls. And if my brethren will speak it spitefully, in reverence still my heart shall whisper it.”

“Your Tyelkormo?” Celegorm spat through gritted teeth, “What would you know about me?”

“I know much of you, my wild one.”

Oh, the gentleness, the fondness behind those words sent Celegorm’s spirit tumbling towards ruin. Acrid bile rose in his throat and balefully he looked upon the Vala, wondering how much easier it might have been if Oromë would have just struck him, yelled at him, cursed him a thousand times over. He could have simply turned away then, telling himself that there was no reason for him to stay or look back. Like mantra he would turn the feeble pretexts in his mind- I am not wanted here, he despises the very sight of me, there is nothing left between us, whatever threads still endure glisten red with blood. Over and over he would repeat it, like clockwork, until he became sure of it. Yet now it was difficult to pretend. And it was this, perhaps, the cruelty that Celegorm abhorred most.

Fretfully he pondered Oromë’s words, I know much of you, and quickly found that they rang true. For how could the Vala not know Celegorm when his words flew like arrows and struck their mark effortlessly? When Celegorm followed the Vala’s horn without hesitation, making his way through the murky forests with nothing but quivering excitement and unflinching loyalty to guide his way, who could doubt that Oromë had completely, irrevocably enraptured the young prince? In awe he always watched Oromë, be it as he walked down the ballrooms adorned in ostentatious garments during celebrations, or as he eviscerated a beast. Celegorm could still recall what it felt like to grasp a warm, beating heart with his bare hands at Oromë’s bidding. Viscera steamed in the winter’s chill as he pulled it out and found his way to the stag’s heart. So delicate and slippery it felt; blood dripped through his fingers and soaked his sleeve, arteries ruptured as he twisted the organ to pluck it free. And what pride swelled in his chest at the benevolent smile Oromë bestowed upon him.

My wild one.

Celegorm drew in a hitching breath before softly saying, “I will depart from Tirion tonight.”

Oromë’s shoulders seemed to relax –or tense, Celegorm couldn’t quite tell- by a fraction.

“I would tell you that I do not wish for you to go,” Oromë sighed, “but I know past affections won’t move your heart. I know your ears will shut out any claims of love-“

“You are right in your assumptions,” Celegorm interrupted.

“-but I will tell you this,” Oromë continued patiently, “This is folly. You are marching to your own death, far out of my reach. Your voice I won’t be able to hear, your prayers will go unanswered. You trifle with powers that are beyond your darkest fantasies. Hear me now, Tyelkormo, and take heed: go not thither. Step not where I can’t follow.” A pause followed then, and true melancholy rippled through Oromë’s voice as he added, “I don’t want you to suffer.”

The first seeds of doubt sprouted inside of him then, driving their roots through sinew, thin yet firm.

“I will not be daunted by omens and portents made stupendous by those that would see me and my kin diminished,” Celegorm grimaced. “I pledged my loyalty to my sire and his cause, our cause. I have sworn to follow and never turn my back on my family again. My fealty is not a feckless thing.”

“And yet you cast it aside in favour of precarious promises and vengeful ambitions.”

The snide remark made Celegorm bridle. Oromë couldn’t understand his motives, such accusations were untrue. Streaks of pride might swirl amidst the many reasons why Celegorm chose to walk that path, but other things ran deeper than that. More viciously they waged their war beneath his flesh, they ached in his very bones and bound him to that decision. Yet no longer did he possess the strength or patience to defend himself, to offer explanations that would merely earn him a condescending chiding.

“As I chose to follow you out of my own volition,” Celegorm slowly said, “freely I shall go. My fate is my own and the very heavens will shake and weep at the sight of my wrath if someone seeks to withhold that freedom from me.”

Whatever reaction Celegorm might have expected, it was definitely not a smile. And Oromë did just that- he smiled. Not a cunning, vicious smile, but a warm one.

“There is fire within you, Tyelkormo. I have taught you well. I won’t count this as a sorrowful parting as I don’t want to remember it as such.”

“But I am expelled from you heart,” Celegorm pointed out.

“Nay,” the huntsman shook his head as one of his hands came to gently hold Celegorm’s chin. “I have marked you as mine, and mine you shall remain. The ink needled into your skin will remind you of it. My words, my power, my love thrums through it.” Calloused fingers trailed Celegorm’s lips and it was almost enough to make him sob. “We won’t be so easily parted, you and I.”

With that he released the elf’s face and stepped back, appraising him. A question itched upon Celegorm’s lips, where Oromë’s touch still lingered.

“Will you wait for me?”

It was childish and he was being petulant, Celegorm knew, but he couldn’t quite help it. The Vala looked questioningly to him, so Celegorm pressed: “Will you wait for my return? Will you expect me to come crawling back to you?”

“I know you will. Though whether it is your body or your houseless spirit that will return, I cannot tell.”

Anger flared in him, pride and hurt forced a dark chuckle out of his throat, and Celegorm knew that he had made up his mind then.

Let us see then.

He brushed past Oromë.

I will prove you wrong.

His hand clutched the hilt of his dagger painfully tight.

And even if you are right…

Away he walked, away without further glance or regret.

“Do not wait for me. I will never return to you.”

#these two have been on my mind for a while now #celegorm #orome #celegorm/orome #my writing #silmarillion

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 1 year

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The Sons of Fëanor behind closed doors

Author’s note: A collection of random intimate moments between you and your favorite Fëanorian. Part 1/? There will definitely be more parts to this!

Caranthir

Carnistir always runs warm

It doesn’t matter how cold it is outside, his temperature never seems to drop. Must be his blood cuz its boiling

In the evening, you’ll find him looking through the bookshelves in your chambers, thinking about which one he’s going to read to you

This is a routine you have established quite early on, him being a bookworm and you loving the sound of his voice and storytelling abilities

He always comes back to join you right when your feet start getting cold. The second he sits down beside you, you bury them underneath his legs, certified personal heater

He shudders at the coldness and shoots you an annoyed look, scolding you about how you should put on socks.

"You’re going to catch a cold."

"Not when I have you right here!" You grin and are met with him rolling his eyes

When he opens the book, you throw your arms around his neck and look over his shoulder, waiting for him to start reading, but he just seems to be flipping through the pages aimlessly, too distracted by your sudden proximity

His face grows redder with every second

You snuggle into his hot cheek, and he feels you smile against his skin.

How is he supposed to focus?? Manz is flustered

"You do remember where we left off, right?" You ask teasingly, he just clears his throat and mutters something about chapter three. When he finally finds the chapter he lets out a breath he seemed to be holding forever

Is it hot in here? Nope, just Cara’s body temperature which is off the charts by now

There’s something about his reading voice, the way it sounds soft like a velvet blanket, yet so sharp

And though you’d love to listen to the story, the exhaustion takes over you, leaving you half asleep on his shoulder near the chapter’s end

He puts down the book and rests his head against yours for a moment, secretly smiling to himself in pure bliss before gently picking you up and carrying you to bed

Eru, the things you do to him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way

Maedhros

This gentle giant loves it when you play with his hands

He noticed a long time ago how fidgety you would get whenever something was making you nervous

Your anxiety shows itself in you cracking your knuckles, playing with the rings on your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your clothing

Sometimes, however, you wouldn’t have anything to help reduce your anxiety

He made it a habit to look for that twitch in your fingers, and whenever that happens, he just takes your hands into his

And since his hands are significantly larger than yours, it would only take one of them to encapsulate both of yours, and squeeze them reassuringly (we’re obviously talking pre-oath here oop) while the other tends to whatever it is he was doing before

Although open displays of affection are frowned upon, he considers your comfort more important than the judgement he would receive

Let’s be real, nobody would dare to ever voice their disapproval. It’s Maedhros they’re talking to, zero fucks given here

This morning, you have been sitting next to Mai in a meeting for the longest time when one of the attendees decides to criticize some of the contributions you have made earlier. You freeze. Heart starts beating impossibly fast at the tone of his voice, pointed and condescending. Eru. Do you answer? Are you supposed to answer?! He’s looking right at you. Eruerueru-

The second Mai’s hand finds yours under the table, the tension leaves your body.

You take it with an urgency he recognizes all too well. One of your hands holds on to his wrist while the fingers on your other one intertwine themselves with his, your thumb drawing hectic circles into his cool skin. Your grip on his wrist tightens at times and you take deep breaths, trying to remain in control

You let go of his wrist and trace the veins on the back of his hand, trying to memorize the way his skin feels on yours, before you turn his hand around in your lap and do the same thing with the lines on his palm

His hand is relaxed in your grip, gradually transferring some of that energy to you

He’s just so tall and self assured — the complete opposite of your current state — you could find solace in his presence alone if it weren’t for your itching fingers

Your movements become slower the longer you stay in contact with him

It’s like his fëa gathers in his hand, knowing you need it to touch you directly to come to your senses

And so the rush wears off, eventually the attendee stops talking and you are able to form a response that is just coherent enough to be said out loud in this setting

And as a result of your bond and the indemmar emerging from it, Maitimo proceeds to expand your argument in his own words, closing the case gracefully as ever without letting anything show

You don’t know what you’d do without him, especially in situations like these

Maglor

Contrary to popular belief, Makalaurë is a clumsy individual

You have to give that to him, his mind seems to be running nonstop, I imagine him to always be on the edge of sensory overload — just look at the world around you, how could you not want to capture every single aspect of it in poetry and song?

So, naturally, he’s not always fully present, at least not when he’s scribbling things on paper

You can tell whether to talk to him or leave him to his affairs by the way he’s sitting, the speed and loudness of the quill on his paper.

The more he hunches his back, the more he squints his eyes, chews on his lower lip, the messier his handwriting appears, the jerkier he moves the quill — that’s when you know not to disturb him

Although sometimes, you yourself are quite preoccupied and forget about it

"LAURË!" you call out as you burst into his room, feet stomping on the wooden planks so enthusiastically their creaking could be mistaken for a cat screaming after having been stepped on its tail

Poor Laurë is so startled, he jumps out of his skin, dies and is reborn all at once

The quill in his hand slides across the paper with the sudden movement of his arm and, yikes, the ink pot is sent flying along with pieces of parchment

He yells, eyes wide, hands in the air, frozen in place, a literal deer in the headlights

You stop dead in your tracks and cover your mouth in shock, immediately regretting your loud entry

"ERU, Y/N, DON’T DO THIS TO ME" "I’M SO SORRY!!" "WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!" "I DON’T KNOW!!"

The last piece of paper lands on the ground, the air settles down and only then do you see the damage — splotches of ink are littered all over his desk and notes, his hands and sleeves. He sits there, with his upper body turned towards you, staring at his work on the floor, slowly breaking out of his state of shock and moving to pick it up with shaky hands

You hate to admit it to yourself, but he’s so unintentionally funny with his big eyes and startled movements. You can see how he’s trying to coordinate his thoughts again as his hands reach for each piece of paper below, sometimes grabbing the air instead of the actual object

Somebody help this man

And Eru forbid, when he sees the spilled ink on his notes, he goes through all the stages of grief right in front of your eyes and you feel even worse for the laughter that’s bubbling up inside of you

He’s like a sloth, slowly collecting his belongings with calculating eyes

You hastily step to his side and help him arrange everything on the desk, then proceed to get a washcloth to wipe away the spilled ink

When you’re finished, you are met with judgemental eyes

"I’m sorry, I’m really sorry," you manage to get out before the laughter bursts out of you. Laurë huffs and before you know it, his blue fingertips smear the leftover ink across your face

"Hey!" you yelp when he picks you up and carries you outside

If it weren’t for the loud breath he lets out through his nose, you would have thought he was really mad at you, but he just puts you back down, trying his hardest to hide his smile upon seeing the blue lines on your face

"I’ll just come back later," you purse your lips and look up at him. He shakes his head at the mischievous twinkle in your eyes before leaning down to kiss the top of your head and then slamming the door in your face lol

Celegorm

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that Tyelko loves nature

You, on the other hand, have certain things you’d prefer to stay away from, such as spiders

And as much as you love him, his "conquer your fear" mindset is anything but dear to you. You’re a firm believer of respecting people’s fears and not forcing them to change that, whereas he thinks practically and doesn’t always consider your thoughts, such as right now

He came running into your room when he had heard you scream in fear, ready to attack whatever was threatening you, or so he thought

So there you are, standing on a chair, pointing at the spider in his hand

"Tyelkormo, I swear on my life, if you come any closer-"

"Y/N, you can’t be serious, it’s tiny." "I don’t care!" You yell, slowly stepping down from the chair and backing up

He smirks "You can’t be that scared, love"

And all the alarms in your head go off when he steps closer to you, spider enclosed in his hand that is extended towards you

When your back hits the wall, you know you’re done for

"Tyelko-" "Just look at it!" He laughs at your reaction, knowing he won’t actually do anything. Deep down, you know it too, but he just loves to poke fun at you and you fall for it every single time

You think he'd leave it at that, but he actually dares to open his hand and of course, the spider jumps out in a frenzy, beginning to rope itself down from the palm of his hand

And you SCREAM, poor Tyelko actually has to cover his ears that's what he gets

The spider hurries away into some corner and you make a leap for the bed, grab a pillow and throw it at Tyelko, yelling at him to take it outside

When he finally does, your rage is still very much present and you take another pillow from behind you and hit him repeatedly

"Don't-" hit. "you-" hit. "ever-" hit. "do-" hit. "that-" hit. "again-" hit. "do-" hit. "you-" hit. "understand-" hit. "you're so annoying!!!"

He's obviously unfazed, if anything his smirk has grown even bigger

His arms snake around your waist and pull you close, cradling your head in his hand

"Did you seriously think I was going to let that spider harm you? You're so easy to tease, love"

Curufin

"Close your eyes," he instructs softly before carefully placing the item in your hands. He spent hours working on this, both scared and excited for your reaction

When he tells you to open your eyes again, they fall on a set of beautiful earrings. But that's not what makes you tear up!

Months ago, you had mentioned how much you missed the color of forget-me-nots in the winter time. It was a silly little thought you had voiced on a leisurely stroll with him on a rather cold morning, not expecting him to actually take it to heart like this

But here you are, in your hand these rose gold earrings, shaped like forget-me-nots, with little shimmering gems in the center — the same color as your favorite spring flower.

"Curufin!" you gasp, looking up at him

He just smiles and for the first time ever, he looks flustered, bashful, even

He's always so calm, stoic and levelheaded. To see him deliver a gesture like this is unusual to say the least

"Here, let me help you put them on," he gently takes the earrings out of your hands with his calloused fingers

You notice a band-aid on his left index finger, did he hurt himself when crafting these?

Once the earrings are on, you step in front of the mirror and Eru, the smile that blooms on your face almost makes his heart stop

Curvo was never one to display a lot of emotion, he just never deemed it necessary

But seeing you touched like this made him question what was so bad about letting his guard down sometimes

Especially when you would look at him, and his heart would erupt into a million tiny butterflies upon the effects of his gesture

Amrod

You're sat on the wooden fence framing the fields close to your estate, watching the cows

The sun is just about to set and you catch yourself staring at him

"Is there something on my face?" he suddenly asks and raises his eyebrows, you're caught in the act

Quick, think of something to save yourself from the embarrassment!!! Or else he'll never stop teasing you about this!!!

So you flick his forehead and watch him open his mouth in protest

"Hey!" "What are you gonna do, Pityo?"

You stick your tongue out and jump down into the high grass, watching him do the same, ready to follow you for some revenge

The air is quiet, and the first fireflies are already buzzing around the fields when he starts chasing you through the flowers

Your giggles and screams make the cows raise their heads one by one, disturbed by these two strange creatures running around them

Usually, Amrod knows not to run too close to the cows as it would agitate them, but he's just too caught up in the way your laughter tickles his pointed ears and the way your h/c hair flows in the wind — he doesn't notice one of them standing closer to him than he has anticipated

So yeah, poor unfortunate Pityo bumps into that cow. And he stumbles. And falls. And when he realizes what he's fallen into, he yells. And when you realize what he's fallen into, he's done for

"NO WAY!!!!" "STOP"

He gets up and looks down at his linen shirt which is now an earthy, lovely shade of brown

When you come closer, you see the blush on his cheeks, his ears growing redder and redder

"Not a word to my brothers!" he warns, pointing his finger at you

"What do I get in return?" you ask and clasp your hands in front of your body, a shit-eating grin on your face pun intended

He looks around helplessly, trying to come up with something to keep you from running off to tell everyone about this mishap

He just huffs in defeat, shoulders slacking "I'll do whatever you want, just don't tell them."

You don't know why, but seeing him at your mercy like this makes you feel bolder than usual

"Kiss me." It's a short and sweet proposal.

You can see in his face that he's expected anything but this, because manz GASPS and is frozen in place

He's been crushing on you for quite some time, and the two of you certainly shared a cheeky bond, constantly teasing each other in a loving way, but kissing you???

He's at a loss for words and just stares at you in disbelief, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to reply but failing miserably

You've never seen him so flustered when he usually has a snarky comeback for every situation. He's so cute.

You carefully take a few steps closer to him until you're a few centimetres apart and look up at him with a timid smile, waiting for his reaction. And he gazes into your eyes with a newfound vulnerability that makes your heart beat a lot faster than it already does

And when he finally makes up his mind and decides to go for it, the sun has set

His lips hover over yours before softly laying themselves upon yours like a secret in the dark, only to be whispered aloud in your presence

Amras

"Telvo, I'm really tired, how much longer do we have to walk?" you ask, the ache in your feet is almost unbearable at this point

He came into your room this morning, asking you to accompany him on his quest to find mushrooms to try an old recipe for a stew he had found in the library

You don't know how many times he's already come knocking at your door demanding your help for the most trivial things, but you comply every time, you just can't help it. Some of your best adventures are made with him

So there you are, wandering along the path leading back to your home, your apron full of mushrooms of all kind, Telvo walking in front of you with that bounce in his step indicating his good mood

"We're almost there, look!" He points towards the house on the edge of the valley you're passing through, although it's a bit too far for your liking

You groan, stumbling over a root sticking out from beneath you and having the mushrooms tumble all over the ground

"Oh no..." you sigh, looking up at your companion who's surprised at your exhaustion

"Are you alright? I'm sorry if I made you walk too much!" He stammers, crouching to pick up the mushrooms and put them back into your apron, which you had folded into a makeshift bag

Once they're all in there, he turns his back to you and gestures for you to hop on, which you do gladly

"Y/N, Y/N, you're spending too much time indoors. Look at how exhausted you are!" he snickers and resumes his trip towards your house. You just snuggle into his shoulder and blow into his ear

"Not everyone can run around in the forest all day, you know?" to which he just shakes his head and laughs

Once you're inside, you begin to prepare the stew, bickering and joking around all the while

"Eru, hopefully this will taste good. Where did you even find that recipe?"

He tells you about a collection of old, dusty books hidden away in his father's library. Some traveller had devised this recipe a long time ago. It's said to warm you from within with its unique taste. You could listen to his rambling for hours. He's always had a talent for discovering the most random things and taking them straight to you, his partner in crime and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Once the stew is done, you dig in, and who would have thought? A blissful warmth spreads throughout your bodies, caressing your bellies and putting satisfied smiles onto your faces

"Told you it was gonna taste good," he mumbles and winks, beckoning you to come and sit next to him so you could enjoy the incoming food coma together

He really is full of peculiar ideas, your beloved redhead

#fëanorians x reader #fëanorians imagine #fëanorians headcanon #caranthir headcanon #maedhros headcanon #maglor headcanon #celegorm headcanon #curufin headcanon #amrod headcanon #amras headcanon #ambarussar headcanon #the sons of fëanor behind closed doors

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grey-gazania-fic · 9 months

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Five Letters Caranthir Sent His Wife (And One Letter He Didn't)

When Fëanor is exiled to Formenos, his seven sons accompany him, but Caranthir's wife stays behind in Tirion. A selection of their correspondence. Rated PG.

My dear Parmë,

I have no idea how long it will take for this to reach you; there’s not much in the way of a postal service up here, so I’ve entrusted my letter to Herenyo, who’s headed back to Tirion now that he’s seen his sister safely settled here.

We’ve arrived, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. The place hasn’t changed much since we were last here. Remember standing on the banks of the Híri and looking up at that ring of mountains -- the bright snow on the peaks, and the way the light reflected off the water and brought out all the bands of color in the stone? It’s still as beautiful now as it was then, though I’m having a harder time appreciating it when I know I’ll be stuck here for twelve years, instead of just visiting for a few weeks.

I miss you already.

Atto made all his preliminary construction plans on our journey here, and he’s already started the work. He intends to build into the mountains as well as settle on the plain -- a precaution for the winter, I suppose, or maybe he just wants a place he can fortify. I admit I haven’t asked, because he’s still in a filthy temper about the Valar’s judgment and I’d rather not get my head bitten off. In front of the others he puts on a cast-iron show of leadership, but when it’s just the family, he’s worse than a snapping turtle. Haru is the only one who can calm him.

Curvo is already running himself ragged, trying to do everything Atto asks and trying to keep Nyellë from exerting herself now that she’s expecting.

I've taken over all the cooking, mostly because I can and it beats babysitting or making nails and door hinges. But I keep thinking how you've probably gone back to living on tomato & cheese sandwiches and raw mushrooms. (I still don't understand why you eat those. Ugh.) Promise you'll eat some real food at least occasionally? Meet up with Amarië for lunch or something.

I miss you, but you'd hate it here. It's all noise and shouting and people everywhere, hardly any quiet. I don't remember things being so loud even when I lived at home, but I guess there were fewer of us then. And things are strange – Tyelkormo is out hunting most of the time, as usual, and Curvo fusses over Nyellë while she tries not to snap at him, but now Haru tries to placate Atar, and Maitimo tends to the twins and is quietly miserable. Not that he's confessed it to anyone, but it's plain enough, at least to me.

How is Tirion holding up with so many people gone? Are things calmer at all?

I can’t sleep through the night anymore, not without you beside me. I know why you stayed behind, and I understand, I really do, but I already miss you so much it aches.

All my love,

Carnistir

My dearest, beloved Parmë,

I’m sorely tempted to toss Curvo in the river, and you know, I think Nyellë might applaud me if I did. He’s smothering her with all his fussing, which is clearly driving her mad. I had no idea the two of them could argue so fiercely. So now we have not one, but three people in a constant state of bad temper. Family dinners are approaching open warfare.

I’m not blameless myself; I’ll be the first to admit it. I’d forgotten how hard it is to live with so many people under one roof. It was so much better at home with you, just the two of us. You’ve always been my even keel, my oasis, the cool water to quench my hot temper. It’s difficult being here without you. It feels like we’re all taking after Atto, snapping and snarling at each other. Not even Maitimo can keep the peace these days, and he was always the one who smoothed things over among us.

I think he misses Fingon desperately, even if he won’t admit it. The two of them argued before we left, and they must have exchanged some truly bitter words, because Maitimo’s heart feels like it’s surrounded with nettles now. I’ve tried talking to him – I thought maybe I could help draw out whatever’s poisoning him inside – but my efforts have gone nowhere. He’s locked part of himself away, like he doesn’t want to feel his own emotions. But the pain is bleeding out of him, even if I’m the only one who can see it.

I miss the days when we were happy. I miss my mother. Most of all, I miss you.

Your cousin is here, did you know? Alassinkë, I mean, and her ridiculous husband. They’ve been trying to curry favor with Atto through me, but I’m having none of it. Why should I give them the time of day, when they never treated you with the respect you deserve? I know that once we married, Alassinkë only ever saw her relationship with you as a means to an end. I won’t reward that kind of loveless conniving.

I was glad to hear that you’ve been spending time with Amarië. Please, offer her my congratulations on a successful first date with Findaráto. He’s been pining over her for years, but I thought he would never work up the nerve to ask her out. And while you know I’ve never been particularly close with him, I will say that he’s always been the least objectionable of Arafinwë’s brats. Amarië could do a lot worse.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I feel like I left a piece of myself behind in Tirion with you. Please, try to come for a visit soon, even if it’s only a few days. I think Canyanis would give you the time off if you asked. She adores you, and you’re one of her best archivists. Try, please. I would give anything to see you, even for a little while.

All my love,

Carnistir

Parmë, my Parmë, light of my life and dearest in the world to me,

I know I said this before you left, but I need to say it again: I am so, so sorry for how Atto treated you while you were here. I knew he was angry that you stayed behind in Tirion instead of coming here with me, but I never thought he would have such harsh words for you. I’ve tried to convince him that he owes you an apology, but he won’t listen to anything I say. He sees the fact that you stayed behind as a betrayal, just like he sees Ammë staying behind as a betrayal. He’s even accused me of being “blinded by my love for you.”

I told him that was nonsense, and that when we married we promised to love and cherish each other, not to always agree with each other. I’d be nothing but a petty tyrant if I’d tried to wheedle you into coming to Formenos with us, and I never could’ve done that to you, anyway. You love Tirion. You love the archive. You love your work, and your friends, and the garden that you’ve tended to for so long. I know you’d be miserable here, away from all of that, and I can never bear to see you unhappy.

I would’ve stayed with you if I could, but Atto never would have forgiven me. Plus that would’ve been tantamount to declaring allegiance to Nolofinwë, which is something you know I’ll never do. If he hadn’t listened to Melkor’s lies and tried to usurp my father’s place, none of us would be in this mess.

At any rate, Atto and I aren’t speaking now, because of what he said about you. Maitimo hasn’t even tried to get us to reconcile, which tells you all you need to know about how well he’s doing. Curvo’s taken sides, of course, so now he’s not speaking to me either. Tyelko’s been smart enough not to offer an opinion, and I think the twins are too young to really care. Makalaurë hasn’t said anything to Atto’s face about it, but in private he told me that Atto was out of line and that he doesn’t blame me for being angry. He said if Atto ever spoke to Melindil like that, he’d be furious, too.

I don’t know what Melindil and Nyellë think, but if I were them, I’d be nervous. You were always Atto’s favorite daughter-in-law, and if he’ll talk to you like that, they must realize he’ll do the same to them if they misstep. Though they came with us, so Atto is seeing them in a better light than he sees you. Loyalty has become very important to him, but I’m concerned by how strictly he seems to be defining it. I think if Haru had stayed behind to continue ruling in Tirion, Atto would’ve fallen apart completely.

Again, I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my fault, but you deserved better. If you don’t want to come back, I’ll understand, and I won’t fault you for it.

I cherish you, Parmë. More than the stars in the sky, more than the light of the Trees, more than all the gems in the earth.

All my love,

Carnistir

My dearest, darling Parmë, who has the cleverest hands,

I was a bit surprised when your package came, but oh, melissë, you outdid yourself. It's beautiful! And so warm – I swear it's the warmest blanket in the fortress. You must have been working on this quilt for months. The embroidery alone must have taken you weeks. Truly, it’s a work of art. I’ve never seen a quilt so fine, or so unique. Every time I look at it, I feel like you’re here with me, your arms wrapped around me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

In other news, Nyellë's had the baby. It's a boy. His name is Curufinwë Tyelperinquar. Typical. I’ve always thought this family already had more Curufinwës than it needed, but it seems Curvo disagrees.

There's not much else to say about him; he's little and bald and red, and he cries a lot. He looks to take after Curvo, at least in his appearance. Atto is thrilled, but Nyellë wants to try to arrange a visit with Ammë, so I'm not sure how long the good mood will last. Nyellë’s in the right, though. Ammë deserves to meet her first grandchild.

Little Tyelpo’s birth has cheered Maitimo up, too, which I’m grateful for. He’s clearly enjoying being an uncle, not to mention having a baby in the house again. I always thought he would make a good father. He loves children more than anyone I’ve ever met, and certainly more than I do. He’s having a grand time teaching Pityo and Telvo how to properly handle an infant, though so far they’ve refused his diaper-changing lessons.

Nyellë and Curvo are both exhausted and clearly appreciate the help. Even I’ve been charmed by the little dumpling, though living in a house with a baby is a new one for me, as you know. By the time Curvo and the twins came along, I was already settled in Tirion with you.

I do wish he didn’t cry so much, but when I made the mistake of saying that to Maitimo, Maitimo told me that I cried ten times as often and ten times as loudly when I was a baby. If he’s telling the truth – and let’s face it, I have no reason to doubt him – I was the unhappiest infant in all of Aman.

Will you come to see your nephew? I think Atto is in a good enough mood that he won’t snap at you again, and as always, I’d love to see you. I know you know nothing about babies, being an only child, but Maitimo and I would teach you, and I think Nyellë would like to see you, too. I know she said she’d like to thank you in person for the baby clothes you sent last month. They’re a little big – Tyelpo came a few weeks early, and he’s small – but he’ll grow into them. That’s one thing I do remember about babies; they grow faster than you’d think.

I’ve included some chrysanthemum seeds with this letter, for you to try in the garden back home. They grow wild up here, and these are from a plant with blooms that were a lovely shade of peach that I haven’t seen before. I hope they grow, and that they make you think of me.

All my love,

Carnistir

My darling, dearest, precious Parmë,

It was so, so good to see you. It’s amazing how much more peaceful the place is since little Tyelpo arrived, though I’ll be the first to say that that’s an awful lot of weight to put on a two-year-old’s shoulders. But if it means you can come and go without trouble, then I’ll take it. Selfish of me, I know, but I’ve never claimed not to be selfish. Thank Canyanis for me, will you, for giving you two entire weeks?

I hope there’s no trouble in Tirion over the fact that you’ve been coming to Formenos. I worry that some people there might view you with suspicion, or think you’re spying for Atto somehow. I know things are tense both here and there, and I’m glad that you’re doing your best to navigate both simultaneously. Selfish of me again, maybe; mostly I’m just happy I’ve been able to see you.

Tyelpo’s taken to dragging the blanket you made for him around with him everywhere, to the point that he cried when Nyellë took it away so that she could wash it. It’s displaced the bunny Ammë sent as his favorite thing.

I planted the rose seedlings you brought with you along the wall outside my bedroom window, so that I’ll be able to see them when they grow. They’ll make the place feel a little more homey. Not that it’s ever going to be home, for all that we’ve already been here three years and are due to stay another nine. Home isn’t here. Home is with you.

Tell me, has Findaráto asked Amarië to marry him yet, or is he still dragging his feet? He’s lucky she loves him so much, or someone else probably would have stolen her away by now.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t criticize. I proposed to you with no planning and no rings. But I’d known for years by then that you were the only person I would ever want to marry. I was just waiting until I’d turned fifty. Findaráto is well past fifty. He needs to get a move on things, or he’ll be like Maitimo, unmarried forever.

Of course, don’t tell him I said any of this. I doubt he has any desire to take relationship advice from me, considering how poorly we’ve always gotten along. His loss, though. I think I have the happiest marriage in the entire family.

Write me back quickly. I know I just saw you, but I already miss you.

All my love,

Carnistir

Parmë, my love, my life,

It feels unfair, having to stay here for so long. It was Melkor’s lies that drove Atto to do what he did, and the Valar haven’t even managed to find Melkor. But they banished Atto anyway, even though they haven’t managed to fix their own mistake. Maybe Atto’s right, and we would be better off in Endorë rather than caged here. I don’t know. I just think a fresh start sounds tempting.

Would you come with me, if we were to really leave? I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid the answer would be no, and then we’d truly be sundered. Formenos is two days’ ride from Tirion. Endorë is an entire ocean away. But I know you don’t feel hemmed in here the way I do. You’re happy in Aman. You have your work, your friends, your family. I see the way you light up when you talk about the archive. I see how much joy your craft brings you.

If I’m honest, I’m not just afraid to ask; I think I’d actually hate myself if I ever did ask. I could never demand that you make that choice.

I’m afraid to ask the other question, too. If Atto did decide to lead us east over the sea, and you didn’t want to join him, would I stay with you? Or would I go with Atto? I don’t know the answer to that question, and that terrifies me. I love my father, but I also love you. I think having to make that choice would tear me in two.

Atto has been commanded to appear before Manwë at the festival, though the terms of his banishment haven’t been lifted. Haru has refused to go with him, and Atto has told the rest of us to stay behind as well. But I’m worried. Maybe it’s nothing, but I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is about to go wrong, that there’s some great malice at work that we can’t see. I’ve been dreaming of darkness rolling across Aman and choking the light.

I’m afraid. I wish

Carnistir set down his quill, screwed up his parchment, and fed it to the flames.

#caranthir #caranthir's wife #caranthir/caranthir's wife #parmacundë #my OCs #formenos #valinor #exile to formenos #sons of feanor #sons of fëanor #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fic #silmarillion writers' guild #silmfic #tolkien fanfic #tolkien #silmarillion

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aotearoa20 · 10 months

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Ghost Hunter Au: Lost

Caranthir sighed as he came to a stop halfway up another staircase that simply disappeared into the ceiling. This house was a nightmare to navigate. Curufin has sent him to set up camera in the nursery which was fine, but halfway back to the lobby he must have taken a wrong turn.

He marched back down the stairs and through some glass doors into another room. His flashlight cast strange shadows over the furniture and fake confectionery placed on the table. He could’ve sworn he’d been through this parlour room at least three times. Amras said the house had around seventeen of them, each with slightly different styled furniture.

The lady who’d lived here was terrified the spirits were after her and wanted to kill her. She built her house as large and confusing as possible to keep the away from her.

“Stupid lady,” he muttered to himself, “No way to win, everyone dies at some point. You really had to inflict this house on the rest of us.”

He kicked one of the chairs, ignoring how it seemed to continue to screech long after it stopped. This was idiotic. What was he even doing here? The first house made sense. Amras got an distinction on his school project as he always did but there was no real reason to keep going with this whole ghost hunting series. It was morbid and pointless and damn it, it made his little brother smile more than any other time he’d seen him since the accident.

He clicked his tongue and took a breath. The windows stared out onto the front yard, which really ought to orientate him somewhat. The gardens had been beautiful in the daylight and stood like comforting sentinels in the dark. There were tresses and stylised ledges on the outside of the building. If it came to it he could probably make his way down that way.

Footsteps above him made him sigh in relief. Signs of life at last. A midnight climb was possible but Maglor and Maedhros were waiting outside and if they saw him he’d never hear the end of it. Mercifully he found the working staircase to the third floor and open the door to the room above him. A study with entirely too much bird paraphernalia littered across the desk and chairs and walls. And nothing else.

He takes a step inside. He’s fairly certain the noise had come from here. There was no real door at the end of the corridor so anyone up must have been able to walk past him. There was a canary embossed grandfather clock ticking down the time on the wall. The black bird eyes stare down at him expectantly as he licked his suddenly very dry lips.

“Lost?”

He spun round. Amras leaned against the doorframe on the other side of the room. His face was shadowed but slips of moonlight brushed against his copper curls. And Caranthir could recognise the smug smile in his voice any day.

“This is stupid.”

Amras only laughed and disappeared into the dark. Grumbling under his breath he marched after him. Night was well underway and the temperature kept dropping randomly. He pulled his jacket around him tighter.

“Slow down,” he shouts after his brother who was already at the far end of the corridor. By the time he reached it, Amras just vanished behind the doorway.

“Amras?” He said uncertain as he turned the corner and rolled his footsteps down the stairway. He caught sight of his figure back lit by the the dimly light lobby. Blinking hard he stepped back into the open.

“Did you get lost?” Amras grinned from the middle of the nest of cables he’d been untangling when he’d left. Progress had been made but there was no sign he’d gotten up.

Caranthir frowned and looked back towards the empty hall. The question doesn’t quite leave his lips as the pressed together. A couple of months ago there would be a perfectly good reason for the mixup. It’s so cold. And something in the air that smells like burnt pine.

“Is it working,” Celegorm’s voice cuts above his racing heart beat. It steadies him a moment and he takes a breath. He focused on Curufin who narrowed pointed the EMP detector in Celegorm’s direction. It starts screeching and blinking.

“Not unless your a ghost.”

Celegorm gave a look of mock shock, “Oh No! You caught me.”

Caranthir nods slowly. Idiots he’s surrounded by ididots who flash cameras around empty houses. And he’s tired. Whatever he saw before must have a logical explanation.

There is something moving in the corner of his eye.

He cursed as he turned. The window. There’s a face. There’s a pale face staring in at them. Smiling behind copper curls. He screamed as the rest of them bolted to their feet. Three beams of torchlight hit the window but to little more than dazzle them. It was only by the chirruping laugh outside that they realised.

“Maedhros!” Amras shouts marching up to the window, “you are supposed to wait at the entrance!”

“Hurry up,” came the muffled voice, “It’s cold and I think Maglor might faint from nerves.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Caranthir!” He blinks as Curufin gestures annoyed at the computer, “Are you gonna check the camera feeds or are you just gonna stand there like a ghost.”

Celegorm grabs the EMP detector and points it in his direction. Nothing. Of course. Caranthir rolls his eyes and looks over at the monitor. It’s easier to fiddle with sensitise and frame rate then try to fit what he’d seen in the house into reality. He shakes his head and just forgets.

#ghost hunter au #caranthir #ghost amrod #curufin #demon celegorm #amras #my writing #lil’ fic #modern au #silmarillion #tolkien #light horror

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doodle-pops · 2 years

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All For You

Caranthir x reader

Request: Hi! Congratulations on the milestone 🥰. You deserve them all and so more 💗 Can I request for Caranthir?— both of them arguing because Y/N is always putting themselves in danger and Cara in the end shouts 'because I love you' and after a moment of shock and silence he immediately pulls him into a kiss?— please and thanking you! -@eunoiaastralwings

A/N: I do hope this was written to your liking and that you enjoy it.

Warnings: angry Caranthir, arguing, shouting, kissing, confession

Word Count: 1.5k

Synopsis: After loving you for so long, Caranthir can't bear the thought of losing you after one of your secret expeditions, and so, he confronts you.

“Where were you?”

You hadn’t even removed your saddle from your horse when his voice echoed behind you. Frozen in your spot, your eyes widened as they drifted to the corner of the stable. Still clad in his formal attire from this morning, Caranthir's arms were firmly planted on either side of his body, but as you strained your eyes you saw them twitching – twitching to hold you closely.

“I went out for a ride…to clear my head.” You spoke in a stern tone despite knowing that he was displeased with your actions.

Keeping his expressions at bay, he crossed the room swiftly to stand at your side as you tided your horse. Avoiding his stare, you kept your gaze afront as you busied yourself with removing the bridle. All this time, Caranthir's heated stare never left your figure.

“I thought I told you to never leave the castle grounds without informing me?” He spoke with haste and hurt in his voice, but you failed to realize and only heard anger. After all, he was mainly displeased with your performance.

Pausing to carefully slide the bridle out of your horse’s mouth, you sighed loudly and gave a small chuckle. You really couldn’t believe it when he acted as though he was in charge of you and needed to be informed of your whereabouts. This was not even the first time he behaved like this. Time and time again, whenever you took it upon yourself to trek through the forest and returned past dusk, you’d find yourself in the current situation – interrogation.

“Milord – ”

“Caranthir. I’ve told you time and time again, that you may address me as Caranthir.”

You had taken the chance to look up from your spot and made quick eye contact with him before his gaze was cast elsewhere. Breathing heavily, you nervously picked at the leather straps while thinking of your next words. Everyone for years had spoken about his temper and that he was quick to anger, but during your time knowing him, you understood that it was simply people testing his patience. It still didn’t prevent you from receiving minor outbursts.

It was common knowledge to the workers throughout the palace that you fancied their Lord. Never once did you hesitate to blush at the mention of his name or any sightings of him. Those around you would quietly whisper about your lovestruck appearance whenever he came to visit you in the infirmary. Others would tease you about the efforts that you would put into your appearance to look lovely for him.

What started out as him assisting you when he saw you struggling with boxes of instruments, turned into him making short visits claiming that he only wanted to ensure there was enough medical equipment. You were after all the one responsible for the medical equipment.

“Why is it every time I depart the palace for a breath of fresh air, must you be angry? I don’t recall that being prohibited.” Your voice was above a whisper as the gentle winds carried it across the stables. Once it reached his ears and he heard the pain, his head swivelled around to meet a saddened expression on your face.

Caranthir knew he shouldn’t let his anger get out of control, but the thought of you being hurt by orcs or worst, killed, breaks his heart. He needed you to understand and see how dangerous it was out there and that he couldn’t bear to lose you among the mix. Unfortunately, his temper was still sizzling beneath his skin and his tongue was itching to respond to your comment with the dire urge.

“Because it is dangerous out there! You off all people should understand that!” It came out a lot harsher than he intended and it caused you to flinch.

“...but we are far from the enemy’s forces, so it is safe to walk about.”

“No, it is not! There are always orcs wandering nearby.” His voice had dropped an octave and a mortified expression adorned his face.

“Caranthir, I may be a healer, but I can – ”

“What!? Defend yourself!? Are you forgetting when my men had to save you because you got lost, or when you were attacked twice by rogue orcs? You were severely injured.”

He had taken the opportunity to walk around your horse to stand before you again. With his chest heaving rapidly, he brought his left hand up to rake it through his raven strands before returning his gaze.

“So, what now, I’m supposed to stay indoors? I can’t walk around?”

“No, that’s not what…” stopping his speech, he took a deep breath to change the tone of his words to something softer, “That’s not what I meant. I want for you to inform me so my men can accompany you for safety.”

“Please, I’m not a child Caranthir, I can leave these grounds and go for a walk if it pleases me…without protection.”

“It – It’s not about being treated as a child, it’s about your safety. Why aren’t you seeing that?”

“…you say so and yet you treat me like one.” Turning on your heels, you touched your horse to guide them into its pen. Walking away with your back to Caranthir, he stared at your retreating form mortified that this could be the last time the both of you ever conversed.

Never has he felt the way that you made him feel – warm and loved – and to lose someone who viewed him as he wished to be seen, forever, he couldn’t let that be. He hadn’t even the chance to express his heart to you and here you were accusing his protectiveness of him seeing you as a child. He knew expressing his emotions was trialling, but somewhere along the line, you must have realized he loved you.

How could you not see that he loved you?

“You can’t walk away from this argument, I'm not finished.” He spoke quietly with hurt in his voice as he remained in his spot.

“Or what, you’ll punish me or send me to my room. You know, I thought we were something, but not with the way you treat me…”

Hanging your head after you closed the door to your horse’s pen, you bowed before him and spun on your heels to walk away. The tears were threatening to spill from your eyes as they brimmed your lower lashes. All your hopes of continuing your relationship with Caranthir had just washed away. You would have loved it if you could have poured your heart out to him tonight, but instead, you were met with opposition.

“We’re not something Y/N, we’re more than that, but you make it so difficult for me to express myself when you do things like this.” Skidding to a halt, you turned sideways slowly, listening to his confession. Catching the light on his face, you saw his ruddy cheeks appearing darker than usual and his hands tugging at his robe.

“But there’s no need for the overprotectiveness – ”

“It’s because I love you! I love you and I can’t bear to have anything happen to you because it would kill me inside to lose you! You mean the world to me, and I want to protect and keep you safe!”

His hands shot up into the air to exclaim his point as he kept his gaze locked on your face. His breaths were ragged as he stood awaiting a response.

Silence.

Not a sound was heard save for the whistling and howling of the wind throughout the stables. You stood there mouth agape at the words that came out of his mouth. They were the last things would expect to hear during an argument. On the opposite end, Caranthir watched as tears spilt from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks.

Whatever possessed him to follow through with the following sequence, he quietly thanked for the gain of confidence. Walking briskly over to you, Caranthir towered over your form and raised his hands to cradle your face. Thumbs lifting to tenderly wipe the tears before hooking his fingers underneath your chin and tilting it upwards.

“Please...may I?”

Aware of what he was asking, you softly nodded your head and blinked one last time before his lips came crashing down on yours. Soft lips caressed yours with intermittence of light pecks. You could feel the emotions – despair, love, passion – all being poured into the act. His left arm snaked its way around your waist to pull you closer. It was as though he couldn't get enough of you.

His other hand that held your chin, slid behind to cup your neck and tilt your head upwards to deepen the kiss and for a better angle. Clutching the front of his robes, your grip tightened as you felt his tongue graze your lower lip before pulling away. Pulling away and breathing heavily, you paused to look over his features and gauged his mood before speaking.

“Why...Why didn’t you just say all this from the start, Cara? This could have been avoided.” At the use of his epessё, his eyes smiled.

“I wanted to, but you didn’t give me the chance. I just want you safe Y/N, please understand my protectiveness.”

“If you wanted me safe, all you needed was tag along, I would not have minded…since you love me.”

Brushing his thumbs over your redden cheeks, as if his didn't mirrored yours, he heaved loudly before looking away to gather his thoughts. Pondering the indirect request, Caranthir then returned his focus to you and spoke.

“If it pleases you, then I would accompany you on the next because I want you safe.”

“And because you love me.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings

If you would like to be tagged, click the link or request in my asks.

#caranthir x reader #Carnistir #morifinwe #caranthir imagine #silmarillion x reader #Caranthir #house of feanor #reader insert #x reader fluff #fluff #middle earth imagine #middle earth x reader #silmarillion imagine #doodlepops writings ✨

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searchingforserendipity25 · 1 year

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Curufin!

Character Ask Game 💚🤍🖤

Thank you @welcomingdisaster! :)

Give me a character and I will give you my thoughts on

Curufin

one aspect about them i love

Favourite Daughter Syndrome, and committed to it.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

As much Aredhel’s friend as Celegorm or Caranthir. Well-spoken and very compelling; very strongly attuned to everyone's position and presentation in any conversation, and when he talks/acts it's very deliberately a give-take-overcome situation, both in Nargothrond and confronting Beren and Lúthien.

Very reactive, aware of other people's possible reactions. Shows a remarkable talent in slipping in and saying the correct thing at the correct time with fantastic oration skills. These are good qualities and not evil in themselves! It's what he uses them for that's the problem.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

Genuinely liked Telchar more than most elves, including his brothers. A true friendship of like minds, soul sisters of the craft, bffs of the forge. Celebrimbor wants what they have (and he gets it with Narvi, but not after pining after a number of cool dwarrows and having his hopes for a partnership dashed.)

as well as

one character i love seeing them interact with

Finrod. Everything about the bonds of betrayal and gratitude and betrayal again, mutual attraction and mutual (dis)illusionment, a far clearer mutual understanding than either of them wants to admit, both regarding the best and the worst parts of their characters…

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

Aredhel! Again, I find their friendship fascinating.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

Felt pretty bad - as in, mind-breaking guilt very badly managed - about telling Eöl where Aredhel and Maeglin were going, in hindsight; but genuinely thought this was a political move on Aredhel’s part at the time.

Marry a Sindarin lord, start thawing Turgon’s anger about her disappearance by presenting her cute kid, and then her husband shows up and boom! diplomacy happens. There’s a half-Noldo with a feet in Nan Elmoth. Not a bad choice, as far as he's concerned; Finrod and his siblings have Thingol’s favour, the Feanorians are all out, where does that leave Fingolfin and his children in terms of footing? Eöl’s chase seems consistent to what he knows of Aredhel - hardly the first time she got an idea in her head and left others behind in the assumption they’d do what she planned them to do.

He didn’t at all think she did it on purpose for mere political convenience - Aredhel only does her own convenience, mostly, and power plays of the polis kind aren't her thing. But he knows how she chafes at restriction and longs for vastness, control, agency and liberty, and if she fell in love with a treacherous sentient forest, well, it’s not that surprising.

Curufin’s failure is always in underestimating everyone else. The forest gripped Aredhel not the other way around.

Quite envious that Turgon got to kill Eöl - but also very glad that he wasn’t the one to do it and deal with the consequences to his network in Himlad and in the dwarrow kingdoms.

Knowing Eöl, he suspected the consequences would be quite terrible; would not have been surprised at the Doom he cast over Gondolin, and indeed counted on it and mentally scrapped Gondolin as any kind of use afterwards (went so far as to be glad that they weren't joining the Union, and lowkey blamed them for the defeat and how it changed their plans/added another Doom).

If Aredhel and Maeglin had stayed in Himlad, Curufin would have done so much for them (derrogatory but mostly well intended). The coup of Nan Elmoth by Maeglin’s regents would be truly a tale for the ages (a horror tale). Strangling vines, poisonous ponds, anti-colonialist spiders, Aredhel vs Mablung in a fight for survival in the wilds when Thingol sends someone to figure out what’s going on, Maeglin running around with a cursed blade - we could have had it all!

#thank you welcomingdisaster!#curufin is a hard one to pin down in a good way. i need to reread so many thing!#curuin #aredhel #eol #maeglin #the silm #asks and answers

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maedhrosisbae · 9 months

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I feel like “I’m Trying my Best” by Anson Seabra is Finarfin’s song. I mean, it can apply to A LOT of people in Silm like Finrod, Turgon, Fingon, Maedhros, Maglor, Caranthir, etc. but I feel like it especially fits Finarfin.

“I know you think I got it all figured out ‘cause I walk around with my head in the clouds, but I’m just a boy with his heart pouring’ out of his head.”

Finarfin was expected to suddenly become king. This was a job he probably never expected to get. Surely his father would never not be king, and if he ever did decide to abdicate Feanor and Fingolfin would fight it out and one of them would be king, and after them, their children. Suddenly though, Finarfin’s father is dead, his brothers and their children have left. His children left. They killed his wife’s people and have abandoned him to pick up the broken pieces they left behind when they set out on their “honorable” and “just” quest to retrieve what was theirs and get revenge for their father and king. He had to be strong, because he couldn’t fall apart like he wanted to.

“I wish that you could see the pain that I’ve seen, all of the times I spent being not me. I hope you know that it’s not always happy in my head.”

His brothers abandoned him, and his children abandoned. His father was just murdered. He lost almost all of his family in the blink of an eye, and he is not alright. Finarfin puts on a brave face for his people though, not letting them see how broken he is.

“ ‘Cause I don’t know the perfect road to go down, but I know, I’m trying my best. I’m trying my best to be ok, trying my best but everyday it’s so hard.”

Finarfin doesn’t know how to be king, not really. Fingolfin was always the diplomat and Feanor had the passion and charisma. What did he have? He has no clue how to do any of this, and he is having to learn and adjust on top of his grief. He is just trying his best to cope and lead his now broken people with his shattered heart.

#give this poor guy a break #he really is trying his best #it took a different kind of courage and strength to stay behind #silmarillion #the silm fandom #silm headcanons #finarfin

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amethysttribble · 3 years

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They say that her eldest brother is dead and Lalwen throws her head back and laughs.

It is deafeningly loud amid the stifling silence of the rest of the stunned audience, but Lalwen let’s out peels. It is a great belly laugh, not delicate or graceful or princessly in the slightest but it is in honor of Feanor. And Feanor had been many things, but delicate- fragile, certainly, and apparently flammable- was not among them. Fingolfin is the only one who doesn’t look at her in horror.

Fingon brings back Maedhros, and Lalwen does not laugh, but she does smile and chortle a little at her nephew’s aghast look when he first sees her. “Best be grateful you’re too big and injured to spank,” she jokes and he does not think that nearly as funny as she does.

She grins like a cat when they give Fingolfin the crown. She croons over the furious faces of Feanor’s boy, doesn’t bother trying to hide her joy at her mother’s line getting this victory.

The first time Lalwen kills a walking, talking creature she screams, and it turns into a laugh. She screams out her laughter over a corpse, then kills again and again and again.

Lalwen goes to battle with a smile on her face and blood in her teeth.

Turns out she’s good at this. Turns out she’s just as good at organizing her brother’s armies and killing his enemies as she had been at organizing his parties and wooing his political targets.

After the Sudden Flame, she heaves and chokes and is made mute for a little while because of all the smoke she inhaled. Lalwen was always loud on the battlefield, screaming and laughing and yelling. She’s gone especially horse this time because the battle did not end for a week, and when she cradled her dying nephew in her arms- Angrod- she’d tried to make him laugh.

“Come on, come on, don’t you remember, your, your mother- trying to hike that damn hill. How she sat down in the ivy? Oh she was so miserable! She kept walking and then whined and whined about her scratches down there until your father carried her? And he fell! Look at me Angrod! It was so funny and you’re your mother and I’m your father and you’re a bit big to carry, but this is going to be so funny one day-“

Her throat is only made worse when she goes to Fingolfin’s quarters and finds him missing, then goes to the stables and find his horse gone too. She collapses to her knees, hands wrapped around her stomach, wheezing and heaving in laughter.

Funny… it’s so funny how much it starts to sound like sobs, but it’s not. Never. Not her.

Lalwen’s voice is so broken afterwards, she cannot laugh or smile for a month, and so does not leave her room.

When word comes about Finrod being torn to pieces by wolves after dueling Sauron in song, she snorts and grins. “Only he could be so dramatic,” she tells Fingon, who does not think this is funny and yells at her.

He’s been less and less jovial these days and thus less partial to her, but he could never enjoy certain kinds of jokes. So strong in his convictions, that one. So much hope.

When the first Man of Ulfang’s band slices her side open, she exclaims, “Oh! Ohohoho! So that’s how it is!”

She’s smiling sweetly when she stabs him through the stomach, and then the next and the next.

The sight of her nephew’s mangled corpse drains everything out of her until there is only air left behind that bubbles up into one sharp laugh.

What a fucking joke that this isn’t even the second or third time she’s seen a nephew’s mangled corpse.

When Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir all die together, Lalwen jokes that, “at least their bodies are the sindar’s problem.”

Gil Galad thinks she’s funny. That’s novel. No one has thought her terribly funny since Fingolfin, and he hadn’t been one to crack a smile. Gil Galad, though…

“With Sirion razed and the princes raised by my nephews, there’s nothing stopping Morgoth from picking us off at his leisure.”

“If we’re lucky.”

He’s smiling when he says it. Gil Galad understands the fine art of mirth in despair. Most of the young ones do. The ones who don’t have hope and are dumb and gone like Earendil. Lalwen will miss that boy all the same.

And when she see his ship on the horizon, star at his brow, she’ll laugh so hard she’s sick.

Lalwen knows somethings gone wrong in her when she greets Eonwe- who danced and laughed with her at her Uncle Ingwe’s balls, who always used to calls her ‘charming’- with, “You’re late to the party, my lord,” and he just looks at her in horror.

They offer her a boat back to Valinor and Lalwen doesn’t believe her family will want her back. Pretty, charming, friendly, laughing Lalwen. That girl’s dead.

She is only one of those things now, and she’s told her laughs sound ugly these days.

#lalwen #this is so edgy #might border on dumb #I wrote this on the metro and just clicked post please forgive me #still I maintain #things can be tense and angsty and lalwen can still laugh #tolkien #the silmarillion #fanfic #Tribble Post

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theelvenhaven · 3 years

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Dating Caranthir

Part 2 - Shy and Sweet S/O

- When it comes to dating Caranthir, no matter how sweet and shy that you are, his mood and flares in temper are always going to be something that you’re going to have to deal with.

- Caranthir already would put incredible effort into keeping his brooding emotions more controlled, but with you being so shy and sweet, he is more hyperaware of those swells and surges.

- Caranthir is fair and just, and will treat you with the courtesy and respect that you deserve, and while he may not be the best with his words, he will try and convey to you when he needs space.

- Not that he’s upset with you or angry with you, it’s just he doesn’t want you to think he is taking his anger out on you and would rather cool down before any interactions.

- Though he won’t turn you away if you offer to try and help tame the fire through the means of affections, just preferably in private and away from any outside stressors.

- You are the person that will annoy or anger him the least.

- Though that doesn’t necessarily means that there won’t be times that you two will fight or him getting really heated when you disagree on something. Even on more trivial things he is still likely to feel that frustration swell, fester and boil over.

- The first time you cry from one of these arguments or heated discussions, Caranthir feels awful. If there is anything he doesn’t want to do is to be the cause for you crying.

- Even if that is inevitable, it doesn’t make him feel any less guilty for it, and he does his best to soothe you while coming down from the precipice of his frustrations.

- I completely agree with @icarus-fell-in-spring ‘s headcanon that you are the only person he will apologize too and is quick to offer physical affection to make you feel better if you let him.

- Be it he holds your hands or pulls you in for a snug embrace, Caranthir doesn’t waste time to try and make you feel better for what he’s done.

- Don’t be fooled into thinking this type of pattern repeats itself either and nothing ever changes!

- Caranthir works very hard to make sure more trivial subjects don’t get so heated and to take breaks from such hard but important topics.

- Aside from wanting to give you affections when you are upset, Caranthir loves to receive your affections too.

- He doesn’t like to admit that he does, but he loves to give into your whims in private-

- You want him to lay on the bed with you and him be your big spoon? He may grumble a little but settles contently right behind you and pulls you in as snugly as he can.

- You just want to sit in his lap and gently caress his face and press soft kisses to his cheek? He’ll turn beet red but won’t deny you, wrapping his arms around your waist firmly enjoying every single second of it.

- While already protective, because of your shyer and sweeter nature, that drive to protect you is going to be greater by tenfold.

- While he would come to your defense at any time were this not your disposition, he’s a lot more fierce about it - especially against naysayers and the ill wishes people may say about you because you are with him.

- He already has a no tolerance policy, but is far more aggressive about it, not really giving you the option to decide if you can defend yourself or not.

- Caranthir will barely tolerate even his own siblings picking on you, even if it’s lighthearted.

- He’s quick to feel immediate defense when a playful insult or jab is thrown in your direction from his brothers, face growing redder, ready to shut them down.

- If you are very clearly enjoying yourself with their banter and throwing things around against them too, he’s quick to soothe himself. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t monitoring the conversation to make sure they don’t take it too far.

- Caranthir is has quite the eye for detail especially when it comes to your behaviors and picking up on when you are uncomfortable but faking your amusement.

- So even if you play off the jabs and playful insults, he will know when to shut it down.

- The first time you came crying to him about what another had said about you- calling you awful names- Caranthir left just as quickly as you appeared to handle the situation.

- Eru forbid if you ever came to him with the distressing complaint that someone laid a hand on you or even attempted to put their hands on you. All bets are off at that point, as he will subdue them without care of what the damage may be to them.

* * *

tags:

@saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @iwenttomordor @red-riding @elarinya-nailo

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 1 year

Text

Nocturnal Thoughts - Caranthir x human!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: Reader, who is a human from our world, finds herself reminiscing about her life after waking up in the middle of a hot summer night.

Tags: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst - tw short mentions of depression/panic attacks, established relationship

Author's note: This is my very first fanfic to post! I just realized it gives OC vibes in some parts, but enjoy nonetheless!

It was late. Everyone in the estate had gone to sleep, the only ones awake would have to be the guards and myself. I had woken up in confusion, not remembering what I had dreamt about. It was a shame, really. Turning my head to the left, I saw my husband sleeping soundly. Suddenly, I became aware of every little detail in the room. The window had been opened slightly. Caranthir must have done so in hopes of cool air filling the room. I watched the drapes dance with the night wind. The stars seemed to shine brighter than ever. So much so, that I found myself averting my eyes and looking over to the wooden door instead, feeling the desire to join them outside. It was closed, its engravings shining ever so slightly in the silver moonlight that was shifting with the shadows of the drapes. I could hear the river flowing in the background. Little waves breaking against rocks. Usually, it was never quiet enough for it to be heard in our chambers. I only ever heard it during warm summer nights like this. When everyone was asleep and I would wake up at a random time. Next to me, Caranthir moved closer until one of his hands was grazing my upper arm. It was hard to fall asleep like that, when every little touch resulted in you becoming a sweaty mess. I turned and looked at him again, taking it all in.

His long, raven hair was spawled messily across the pillow, framing his pale face that was glistening in the light of the moon. A collection of freckles was adorning his rosy cheeks and nose. Some had even made it up to his forehead. It amazed me how he still managed to blush in his sleep. I could see why his mother had named him Carnistir. Whether it had anything to do with him blushing a lot or getting hotheaded when someone provoked him was something I would most likely never know.

For once, his forehead was not creased. He was known for his bad temper, constantly wearing a scowl on his handsome face, scaring everyone. Except for his brothers, of course.

I always wondered if he ever got exhausted from frowning so much. He would always say that it wasn’t his fault everyone around him was so obnoxious. Typical. I smiled at the thought, picturing him shrugging and looking away sheepishly, another infamous blush creeping onto his cheeks. He was so shy and gentle behind closed doors, but Valar, when someone angered him, it took all six of his brothers to restrain him. It was only yesterday that he had broken several of Celegorm’s swords and I still didn’t know how. When I had talked to Celegorm about it, he had told me it was because Amrod and Amras had played a prank on him. I couldn’t blame Caranthir for losing his temper at that. The Ambarussar could be a living hell when they were in the mood for shenanigans, especially when it was no secret their older brother had anger issues, making him an easy target. That didn’t stop the twins, though. I made a mental note to go and talk to them in the morning before they would travel back home. The only quiet time Caranthir got was the time spent in bed. Not even his study was a safe space for him, since everyone was on his back, always. He never complained about being the Lord of the house, but I could tell it was draining from the way he threw himself onto our bed every night. I tried assisting him as much as I could, but unfortunately, most of the business he was dealing with was out of my range.

It warmed my heart, seeing him sleep so peacefully for once. That was why I tried to slip out of bed as quietly as I could, only for him to grab my arm and murmur an incoherent string of words. His voice was laced with sleep, eyes still closed, but a little frown had found its way onto his forehead. I sighed softly, leaning forward and carefully removing my arm from his protective grasp.

"I’m just going to get some fresh air," I whispered, tenderly caressing his jaw with the back of my hand and ghosting my lips over his cheek, easing him back into the slumber he had threatened to awaken from. Shoulders slacking in relief, I got up and adjusted my nightgown before tiptoeing to the closet, where I draped a robe over my body, black silk sliding over the exposed skin of my shoulders. I made sure to fix my hair, in case of an encounter with another person. Putting it in a loose braid, I let it fall down my shoulder. I had never been a person to braid my hair, since I never possessed the patience and skill to put it in different styles — my hair had always been too short anyway. When Caranthir and I had started courting, he had been amused by my impatience and had showed me a few styles that even I could master, one of them being the loose braid that I had just finished. After having moved to Thargelion with him, I had decided to grow out my hair, much to his pleasure. He had always insisted long hair suited me better. Whenever he would come back from his travels, he would bring me the finest jewellery and combs to put in my hair. He would sit next to me and show me how to braid and style it with the utmost concentration and care, it was adorable.

Feeling a cool breeze graze my back, I grabbed a scarf from the chair next to my vanity and sneaked to the wooden door, tracing the engravings with my index finger as I opened it carefully.

Before knew it, my feet had carried me all the way to the gardens. Taking a deep breath, I felt the fresh night air enter my lungs. There was nothing like taking a stroll in the middle of the night, when there was no soul around except for my own. I tilted my head upwards to greet Varda and a wave of comfort washed over me. The starlight shone more divinely than ever, glowing ever so silver. I was sure she was watching over the gardens right now. It had been a long time since I had last seen her. She had been the force that had kept me safe when I had fallen from the sky all those years ago, making me feel a special connection to her. When I had told the Fëanorians about her after they had found me, they had been astounded. Never before had they heard about their beloved goddess showing herself to a human. I had begun to appreciate the starlight in a different way after that incident. It wasn’t just a beautiful sight to see. No matter where you were, the stars would shine bright every night, for everyone to see. The feeling of being bathed in starlight was something I would never be able to put into words.

I reached out to caress the flowers around me as I walked down the steps to the river. Caranthir would always joke that I might as well reside in the gardens because I would always spend so much time there, especially in the summer. The thought brought a smile to my face. My darling husband and his humor.

It was dead silent by the river. The only audible noises were my bare feet tapping against the cold stone of the path I was walking on and the water. A sigh left my lips as I sat down at the edge of the water and moved my hand inside, feeling the cool waves take control of my fingers, as if they were liquid themselves. The trees around me rustled softly in the nightwind. The fresh smell of grass was all around me. I watched the reflection of the moon dance on top of the river while humming the simple melody of a song. Makalaurë had composed it for me when I had told him about my past life. It told the story of the young girl from a place called Earth, who fell from the sky into the Realms of Arda. It was a beautiful song and I remembered crying when he had first sung it to me. That night, he had allowed me to call him by his mother-given name, not Maglor, what everybody else called him. It was a shame that he was currently away travelling. Nights like these made me wish I could see my dear friend again and listen to his magnificent harping.

I got along well with Caranthir’s brothers, especially with Makalaurë. He was quiet and always lost in his thoughts, strumming his harp and unconsciously creating beautiful melodies that would get stuck in my head.

The twins were the ones that I spent a lot of time with, as well. They were the youngest of the bunch, closest to my age and always down for a good time. If I needed to clear my head and forget about everything, they would take me on a ride into the forest, showing me their hunting paths, joking and laughing all the while. I still had to tell them off sometimes, when they were angering Caranthir. Even though they were so much older than me, they behaved like the little brothers I had never had.

Maedhros was similar to Makalaurë in the way that he was just as quiet and gentle, being the oldest brother and therefore the most mature. He would always be busy. However, there had been some rare occasions when I had gotten to join him in the library. We wouldn’t talk, but rather just enjoy each other’s company and our appreciation for the stories manifested in those old books. It was rather sad that I had never gotten the chance to really get to know him, I knew he had a special bond with Caranthir, being the big brother, and having played an important role in his childhood. Maybe he would come visit someday.

It had taken quite a while for Celegorm and Curufin to accept and respect me as part of their family. In fact, they had been the last of Caranthir’s brothers to get introduced to me. I had heard stories beforehand, of how they would gang up on him and compete for their father’s affections. To this day, their relationship was strained from all the boundaries they had and continued to cross so shamelessly. So much so, that Caranthir still didn’t trust them to be alone with me. However, over the past few years, we all seemed to have warmed up to each other. The uneasiness would always be hidden inside my gut, but sometimes the two of them were shockingly pleasant company. We would meet up in Curufin’s smithy when the sun was setting and he would talk about his newest project and show us his sketches, which would be bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Celegorm would tell stories of his hunts and visits to Oromë, which would always leave us in awe. I had come to particularly enjoy talking to him about all the languages he knew. It was fascinating how he was able to communicate with Arda’s animals. Next to him would be Huan, who was almost always sitting with us. Contrary to his owner, Huan had always been a rock when I had needed warmth and reassurance — something the Fëanorians didn’t know how to give when we had first met, because they had been very skeptical about how I had gotten to Arda and the fact that I, a mortal woman, had been courting their brother. Even when Celegorm had made me feel unsafe and preyed on, Huan had never once mimicked his owner’s behavior, instead being rather protective of me, which was something I would forever be grateful for.

I proceeded to dip my feet into the cold water, curling and spreading my toes, feeling the liquid flow between them. It felt good, being able to think about my life and the people I had met in the past seven years without any anxiety bubbling up inside of me. It had taken me years to deal with the fact that I would never go back to my world and the depression that had come with that realization. Some nights though, I would close my eyes and think back to the times when I would meet my friends and go out. I would think about the countless evenings that we would spend in bars and the wild nights we would have in clubs. All the long conversations we would have on the phone, the picnics in the parks and concerts on warm summer evenings like today. Cooking together and goofing around on social media. I always wondered if they had forgotten me. If I had been pronounced dead back home. If they all had finished their studies and were now working the jobs they had always wanted. I tried not to have as many thoughts about my family, since they were the ones that would usually trigger my panic attacks, but I always found myself yearning to be held in my mother’s embrace. To be surrounded by her comforting smell and feel the gentleness of her hands caressing me. To hear my sisters laugh when my father was joking around.

The pain would never subside. The emptiness was always with me, like a gaping hole that would never be filled, no matter how much love I received.

I got up, wet feet on cool grass, to make my way back into the house before my husband would panic and send a search party to look for me.

He was incredibly protective of me, it was ridiculous sometimes. I was grateful for it, though. A protective Caranthir was a knight in shining armor for me and a nightmare for everyone else.

The sound of the river became but the same background noise I had heard in bed as I followed the path which I came from. I felt the grass and soil stick to my feet. It was an unpleasant feeling, just like the sand that would get into your bathing suit when you were at the beach. I would clean it when I got back to the house.

Reaching the back door, I turned around one last time and took in the smell of the flowers and grass and the darkened colors interacting with the silver starlight. My safe place.

Lifting my hand into the air, I let my fingers dance with the wind. It was playing around, like an invisible ribbon that was wrapping itself around them, as if it was trying to keep me from leaving.

I smiled fondly at the feeling, before turning around and closing the door behind me.

The long hallway was quiet when I walked back to our chambers, at least for a minute. Restless footsteps were heard from the other end of it, making me stop dead in my tracks and listen. From the shadows emerged the silhouette of my husband. When our eyes met, his tensed muscles visibly relaxed and he hurried towards me.

"Melmenya, are you alright?"

He looked concerned, his bright grey eyes searching my face for any sign of discomfort. His dark hair was flowing down his shoulders. There was no braid holding it in place, meaning he must have completely forgotten about it when he had realized that I wasn’t by his side. I silently cursed myself for worrying him.

"I’m fine, my love."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second, and I couldn’t help but stare up at him lovingly. He would always worry about me when I got out of his sight. The independent part of me found it unnecessary but the hopeless romantic part would swoon every time he behaved like that.

When he opened them again and noticed my gaze, he blushed furiously. My heart felt like it was about to explode. I found great pride in the fact that I managed to reduce him to a blushing, stuttering mess just by looking at him.

Caranthir the Dark. The harshest and quickest to anger.

He was so much more than that. I loved the way his emotions would flow into everything he said and did. Even when there were no words spoken out loud, his face and enchanting eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was a passionate person. An open book, if you will, but at the same time closed off and unattainable. Often unable to keep his feelings under control, hence the bad temper. There was something about the way he carried and expressed himself, the intensity of his emotions, that had me completely captivated.

The redness on his face spread down to his neck when I got on my tiptoes and tucked a strand of hair behind one of his pointy ears, my gaze lingering on the pattern of his freckles in contrast to his pale skin that was now a lovely shade of pink. My precious ellon.

His arms gently wound themselves around my waist and pulled me into his tall frame. Burying my face into his chest, I inhaled his scent.

"Let’s go back to bed, hm?"

He drew back and took my hand in his, smiling coyly. I just nodded, mirroring his facial expression.

Back in our chambers, after having gotten cleaned up, I climbed into bed and opened my arms, silently inviting him into my embrace. He didn’t hesitate to lay his head on my chest, hands settling around my torso. His brothers would tease him until the end of time if they saw him. Caranthir, the toughest, meanest, letting himself be held. I could practically hear Celegorm making fun of him for being such a softie. It was a good thing they would never know about it, then.

Everything fell silent.

The window was closed now, enough cool air had gathered in the room. The drapes were no longer dancing, having grown tired from their duet with the wind. Only the stars were ever so present, their light soothingly streaming down onto our entangled bodies. I closed my eyes at the warmth my husband was providing me with, both physically and mentally. And even though his body heat was beginning to kill me again, I felt content. At ease. Safe.

I felt the exhaustion taking over me so suddenly that I almost didn’t notice him say something. It had come out muffled, making me hum questioningly. He shifted, placing his chin on my collarbone and kissing my cheek affectionately.

"I love you."

His breath was warm against my neck. A tired smile graced my lips at those three familiar words.

"I love you too, Carnistir."

#caranthir x reader #caranthir imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #fluff

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jengajives · 3 years

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the much anticipated part three in which dinner doesnt actually happen yet

part one

part two

Just inside the metal door, there was a plaque that read “TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES OR I WILL KILL YOU” in elegant, cursive lettering, and Daeron spent a long time just staring at it trying to decide whether he found the joke funny or not. At the moment, being murdered here was a genuine worry of his. The thought of Fëanor bursting into the entry hall wielding a machine gun and unloading just because Daeron had forgotten to remove his sandals felt entirely plausible. Daeron was careful to leave the shoes neatly in the row near the others. After taking a moment to examine the gold-embroidered sneakers and a pair of dress shoes polished to perfection he finally managed to speak again. “Is everyone in your family obscenely wealthy?” Maglor glanced up. He’d taken a seat on a very uncomfortable-looking metal bench to unlace his boots. “I guess so, yeah. Curufin and Caranthir have the most because they’re actually talented, but the rest of us are just kind of leeches on Dad’s fortune. He’s got more than enough.” “Yeah.” Daeron glanced at the ceiling some thirty feet above his head. “I noticed that.” “Once I finish recording, though, I should be able to hop off the charity line.” Maglor tossed his boots carelessly into the pile. “I’m gonna make it big.” “I know you are, honey.” If he ever actually finished recording. Maglor was such a perfectionist; he’d been working on his album for years. Abruptly, from somewhere deeper in the belly of this beast, came the sounds of shouting. Daeron turned to see if he could place it. The entry hall was tucked just alongside a massive room that definitely could have fit Daeron’s entire apartment four or five times over. Slick laminate floors reflected the sunset that came in through floor-to-ceiling windows over looking the valley and the distant gleam of ocean. The furniture was of simplistic design but unmistakably expensive, and in the center of the room a massive fireplace was alight with a pale red flame. The far corner featured what seemed to be an indoor waterfall, cascading alongside an opening which Daeron assumed led down to other rooms. There was a glass and steel staircase suspended off the side of one of the walls, curling up to the second floor landing impossibly far above. Directly to his right, the floor stepped down into what seemed to be a lounge of some sort. Behind that, at the far end of the room on the same slightly lower level, there was a massive dining table set with at least twenty chairs. A couple of them were filled, though their occupants were too far away for him to make out. From this table came another shout. It was so echoey in the massive room that Daeron had absolutely no idea whether there were any words in it at all. “Oh, wonderful.” Maglor sighed as he shucked his jacket and tossed it onto the little bench. “They’re fighting already.” “Who’s fighting?” “Who do you think?” The new voice was drily amused and, thankfully, familiar as it approached from the side. Maedhros emerged from the lounge wearing a tired smile, with a baby standing on top of his feet. The little one clung to his left hand and the stump where his right had once been so it wouldn’t fall as he walked it forward with short, certain steps, and when he got close he carefully lowered the baby to the ground so it could start crawling around and babbling, as babies are prone to do. Daeron immediately gave a coo and stooped to pick up the kid. “Look at this little cutie!” “He’s Curufin’s” Maedhros said. He stuck his hand into his pocket now that he wasn’t using it anymore, and gave Daeron a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad Mags convinced you to come.” “He was the one that did the convincing, actually.” Maglor looked at the baby in mild disgust. “They put you on Celebrimbor duty?” “No, I volunteered. Didn’t want to listen to them scream about whatever economics thing they’re upset about.” “Good choice,” Daeron said as he wiggled a finger in front of the baby’s face. Celebrimbor had a ridiculously chubby face and a big smile that made his eyes squish down to nothing but the narrowest slits of silver. His dark hair was surprising thick for one so young. “He’s adorable.” “He’s good company.” Maedhros smiled again. Daeron was beginning to think the expression was a trademark to him- a tired smile that looked convincing, but with nothing at all behind it. There had always been something off about the eldest Fëanorian. Personally, Daeron thought it had something to do with the hand and the scars, but it was rude to ask and Maglor had never offered any meaningful insight on the matter, so he was left to speculate. “How long have they been going off?” Maglor glanced in the direction of the dining table and Maedhros only chuckled. “Not too long. Celegorm started it and then bailed, as per usual. Mom should concede here soon and it’ll probably be safe to go in.” “Big happy family,” Daeron observed absently, because he was too occupied playing with the kid to remember not to be rude. Luckily, Maedhros just laughed softly, which probably meant he hadn’t said anything too offensive. “You have no idea.” Daeron tickled Celebrimbor under the chin. He held the baby towards Maglor. “When can we get one of these?” Maglor gave a strained smile. “Must we?” “You don’t want a baby? He’s so cute!” “Sure, sure. You know I love kids. Nothing I love more than kids.” Maedhros chuckled at the two of them, but before he could say anything, something buzzed in his front pocket. Hastily he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, and his face went somewhat pale. “Sorry. I have to take this.” He hurried from the room and bounded up the stairs two at a time in what appeared to be desperation. Daeron watched him go. “Wow. What is that about?” “No clue.” Maglor shrugged. “He’s a weird guy. You know, not as weird as the others, but weird.” “Sure.” Didn’t really satisfy Daeron, but it would be a little much to ask more about it, so he just didn’t. Maybe he could pry after dinner, depending on if they had wine or not. He looked back at little Celebrimbor and was about to follow Maglor into the lounge when they were interrupted by another yell. The voice was clearer this time, closer, and when Daeron turned he saw a dark-haired man standing just outside the dining area, looking at them. He was speaking Quenya, which was irritating, but Daeron knew enough to understand him. “I thought I heard you out here, Mags! Is this your boyfriend? Come in here right now!” He had a playful tone, but it still seemed incredibly threatening. Maglor just smiled and motioned for Daeron to follow him. “Hey, Curufin.” As Daeron approached, the new Fëanorian gave him a shrewd, calculating type of look. He was wearing a gold chain and a flashy watch on each wrist, and his outfit was so disturbingly ugly it had to be designer. There was some sort of brand logo printed over and over beneath an obscure animal print on the shirt, but Daeron had no idea what it was. His hair was long and done up in loose, stylish locks twisted with gold. He was definitely looking at Daeron like he was a cut of meat. “Oh, dear.” Curufin’s lip curled. “Isn’t this interesting? Good to meet you, pal. It’s Curufin.” He held out a hand, and Daeron was disturbed by the amount of rings on each individual finger. Hesitantly, he accepted the handshake and made a reply in clunky Quenya. “Hello. My name is Daeron.” As he spoke, he shot a glare at Maglor. “They’ll speak Sindarin,” my ass. “You one of Thingol’s?” “Curufin,” Maglor said warningly. His brother only chuckled and motioned to the table. “Welcome to you both,” he said, with just a bit of malice in his voice. Daeron took a deep breath and turned to face the others.

#jenga makes junk #fic #modern au #daeron #maglor #maedhros #celebrimbor #curufin #celegorm #daemags #maglor x daeron #baby celebrimbor #slowly we approach actual events #mae has a secret boyfriend (hint its morgoth)#curufin is the most asshole of them all #feanorians

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Do you have any personal headcanons about Celebrimbor's mother and her relationship with Curufin? I always thought that it's weird we don't have even the barest information about that considering Celebrimbor's unique position as the only next gen Feanorian. (Sorry if you already talked about this somewhere!)

thanks for the ask! i have, but i'm not going to pass up an opportunity to blather on about my ocs for several paragraphs

curufin's wife (she lacks a name because i hate giving characters names and will delay it until i absolutely have to) is noldorin, she lives in valinor in the years of the trees. i haven't thought much about her family, but i suspect they're middling nobility at the highest the did-valinor-have-social-classes debate is a whole different rabbit hole. she's a metalworker like her husband (she probably specialises in a slightly different subcategory but idk enough to say what) and is a member of the same tirion artisan guild. it's in that context that they meet and begin their Intense Crafting Rivalry

you know that trope where a pair of rivals are so obsessively devoted to one-upping each other it's blindingly obvious that what they actually want is to kiss? that's them, that's their relationship. their specialties are just similar enough they do a lot of the same stuff but just different enough their approaches tend to be radically divergent. what starts as the two of them trying to prove the superiority of their own artistic circle or whatever evolves into them trying to show up him/her specifically, s/he's wrong about x and i know i can do better, why does my family keep asking if we're dating yet????? their competition gets absolutely ridiculous in ways only a pre-scarcity society can get, like building an entire fountain out of solid silicon specifically because he said she couldn't do it (he actually said shouldn't but screw him (not literally cousin oh my valar))

but yeah. their relationship grows an undercurrent of the-only-one-allowed-to-push-around-my-archnemesis-is-me, and they find themselves fighting back to back (occasionally literally) when tirion guild politics takes a turn for the tirion guild politics. they just slowly come to trust each other, more than anyone else, and soon there comes an appropriately dramatic moment for them to suddenly kiss. they're still always trying to out-craftself each other, celebrimbor grows up in a house that's about 70% forge to the background noise of his parents insulting each other's work, but they're comfortable with each other in a way neither of them could have imagined in the early days, and when things get rough they always have each other's backs

things do, in fact, get rough. maglor won't meet his wife until beleriand, caranthir's relationship with his spouse slowly falls apart along with the political situation in tirion, but curufin's wife is loudly team fëanor. she suffers from an acute case of finwean spouse disease, she thinks going to middle-earth to build their own world is an awesome idea, she's deeply embedded in the tirion artisan scene with an entire social circle as think the same way, and when the inevitable civil war flares up she'll probably be even more eager to fight the fingolfinians than her husband. she goes with him and their-still-pretty young son to formenos, and when the trees get eaten and fëanor does the speech she prepares for the adventure of a lifetime

then, alqualondë. i stand by my conviction that nobody on the noldorin side walked in planning to steal the boats, let alone murder the teleri, but it was dark and the world was ending and everybody had sharp things. like everybody else involved in the first kinslaying, curufin and wife got caught up in the battle because somebody shouted 'they're attacking us!' in the distance. she is at first more trying to stop them from stabbing her, obsidian fishing spears glancing off ornamental steel, but then she lashes out and she hits someone in the chest and -

there was this recurring trope in her and her husband’s endless mutual critique. she’d create something beautiful, artfully devised and elegantly constructed, showing off a whole ton of design principles and doing things with the material no one had ever done. he would look at it skeptically and go ‘okay, but what use is it? what is it for?’

red liquid running down the fuller of the exquisite sword she forged herself, light guttering out of another elf’s eyes as he coughs up blood, she knows, sure as once were the light of the trees, what the piece of metal in her hands is for

the next few moments are a blur. she threw the sword into the water, she knows that. somehow she wound up running out of alqualondë, tears streaming down her face, as buildings burned and people screamed behind her. she found a concealed spot by the road, tore off her armour, peeked outside, and watched. when the fires were dying down and the boats were clearly gone, she mustered her courage and went to save her family

in the centuries to come, very few people believe celebrimbor when he tells them his mother tried to get his father to come back by, among other things, appealing to his better nature. nobody believes that it almost worked. but curufin was still only starting out on the road to hellbeastery, and his wife was his eternal partner-in-crime. right there at the beginning, staring out over a burning city, she saw where the road the noldor were walking would eventually lead them, no matter how much they tried to deny it. no dreams could be worth that, she told him. no ideals. and she was always the idealist, wasn’t she?

she was. maybe that’s why he, who had so very few ideals to mark his path, refused to abandon this one. their discussion rapidly devolved into a screaming argument half the camp could hear, much like curufin’s last argument with celebrimbor, centuries later. soon enough, though, it became clear that he wouldn’t turn back, and she refused to go on, and neither of them could change the other’s minds. the only thing left between them was celebrimbor

celebrimbor was eight (-ish in elf years), and completely freaked out, and eight, and knew almost nothing about what was going on, and eight, and had grown up listening to his grandfather’s dreams, and eight, and was surrounded by adults who very loudly thought going to middle-earth would solve all their problems, and eight, and couldn’t tell why his mother was abandoning them. panicking, on the spot, he buried his face in curufin’s smock to wipe away his tears. when he looked up, she was gone

so yeah, curufin’s wife went back with finarfin, that’s why she didn’t go to middle-earth. she initially stayed with nerdanel because almost everyone else on both sides of her extended family remained by (and later burned) the boats, i’m only just realising the horrible curufin argument probably wasn’t even the only one she went through that night, jeez. also she really needed a hug. the sun rose, alqualondë started rebuilding, and she ended up head of her and her husband’s former mutual craft guild, mostly because nobody else with the skills to do it was left. decades turn to centuries, news slowly filters back from beleriand, and her worst nightmares are proven so awfully right

probably the biggest emotion she feels towards curufin in the aftermath is betrayal. they were partners, in every sense of the word, they took on the world and they did it together, using their constant competition to drive each other to ever greater heights. they listened to each other, they trusted each other’s judgement, and she knows he understood the point she was making. him continuing on anyway, and diving face-first into the void - the elf she thought she knew would never have done that. as time passes by, the grief and the loneliness get subsumed by a deep abiding rage. if she ever sees the thing her husband let himself become again, she’ll throw a welding torch in his face

but that anger, that heartbreak, none of that applies to her son. when the hosts of valinor began gearing up for war - she’s the leader of tirion’s most prominent metalworking guild, she can’t not go. while they’re unloading supplies and siege equipment and stuff onto the isle of balar, she happens to pass by this relatively short dusky-skinned noldo hauling some smithing equipment about. as soon as he gets a proper look at her, he gasps. she looks back in confusion, and then she meets his eyes

later, she’ll hear his tales of his adventures in the hither lands, all of the hardships, yes, but also all of the brilliance. later, she’ll learn about the person he’s grown into, someone she can be unreservedly proud of in his choices and works. later, they’ll talk about the future, about his ambitions of making his grandfather’s dream come true, but with open hands and a light to be shared with all the peoples of middle-earth. for now, though, she wraps celebrimbor in a massive hug, and lets the tears flow down her face, because no matter how much they’ve lost, no matter how deep the darkness around them, right here and now, her son is alive

#my terrible ocs #ask #minkasartyplace #curufin #celebrimbor #assorted textual ghosts #noldor #look with all the shit that's gonna happen to tyelpe the least he deserves is a hug from his mum #i was gonna write that he ~never saw her again but then i realised there's no way she wouldn't join up with the war of wrath army #she was aware of the possibility that the nargothrond thing was a front and he'd been as corrupted as his father #she was studiously ignoring that possibility until if and when it became relevant #which it didn't #i feel like seeing the person celebrimbor became softens her opinion on the exiles #probably makes up with some members of her own family #anyone who's involved in the later kinslayings is still bad people though #she glosses 'feanorian minions' as 'target practice'#she's a reasonably prominent leader of the noldor what stayed behind #specially the ones who would have been feanorians if they'd gone #which is a proportion of the population that shrinks and shrinks as the ages roll on. by the third age she's middle tirion's craft granny #in the kidnap-dads-all-the-way-down au she's perfectly happy to mother celebrimbor's sisters #sometimes i think about making her part-telerin but i feel that undermines her choice after alqualonde #half wanna write an au where baby tyelpe stays with her now #jk i do not have the time #but i had a lot more to say about her than i expected. thanks for asking!

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alia-turin · 3 years

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It has really been forever, but work kind of kicked my ass the last few weeks and writing has ben really really hard. In any case I am determined to finish that (just one chapter left, yey) and I also have bunch of hot requests to work on.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time: Chapter 9 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Rating: Explicit [NSFW around the end] Fandom: The Witcher Relationship: Caranthir Ar-Feiniel/Original Female Character(s) AO3 Link

“Caranthir?” Aine looked at him confused and afraid, he pulled the blanket over her knowing they won’t be alone soon. Of all the possible days and times now would be the one, of course. He knew Avallac’h probably had no idea Carabthir was not alone, but that did not make the situation less annoying and frustrating. He was not a child anymore.

As soon as Avallac’h stepped through the portal, Caranthir got off the bed and started walking to his dresser, ignoring the man. The clothes he was wearing were downstairs in his study and he was not going to talk to his teacher naked. Avallac’h moved his eyes between him and Aine, she had the blankets pulled almost to her eyes level. Caranthir could feel the anger building in him. Of course his mentor will come now, if there was one thing Avallac’h had ever achieved regarding Caranthir was to ruin the few good moments he ever had in life.

“Get out of the room.” he said as his teacher was shifting his gaze between Aine and him. “The door is there, Avallac’h.” Caranthir pointed angrily as the older elf just smiled politely, acting as if just teleporting in someone's bedroom was the most normal thing in the world. His teacher walked out of the room, Caranthir followed, considering pushing him down the stairs.

“Why are you here?” Caranthir asked as they walked in his lab, Avallach had already lit the place. “Actually, I don’t care, leave.” He was having a good moment, for the first time in his life he was actually enjoying the closeness to another living thing, going through emotions he thought for a very long time unable to experience, and it was all cut short.

“I need to ask you something.” Avallac’h pretended as if that whole thing was absolutely normal. It wasn’t, it had never been normal.

“Make an appointment.” all the serenity was gone and he was pure rage right now, he couldn’t believe something so simple bothered him so much and was able to destroy all the tranquility he felt just a moment ago. He couldn’t show his feelings to Avallac’h, he would not give him the satisfaction. He did his best to look calm, but the winter storm outside the Tower started howling. “Leave.” Caranthir snarled.

“I understand that your absolute inability to build meaningful intimate relationships probably makes you very uncomfortable being seen in bed with someone, but I really need to speak to you.” he was talking to him, but Avallac’h’s eyes were not on him. Caranthir turned and saw Aine standing on the stairs wearing one of his shirts. He turned back to his teacher, Crevan’s eyes narrowed as if trying to determine how serious this thing was. No...he was thinking if he could use her to get to him. He was staring at her in the way Caranthir would stare at a horse he found interesting. He didn’t feel jealous because of his teacher’s gaze, he was concerned.

“Aine, go upstairs.” she hesitated and he raised his voice. “Now!” This time she did it, her light steps echoing as she climbed up the cold stairs.

“Free advice, from personal experience, snapping, especially when there is no need to do so, will result in unfortunate consequences.” Avallac’h forced a smile and Caranthir’s anger only grew. That patronizing, always knowing better than him...

“Despite my inability to build meaningful intimate relationships, do I look stupid enough to follow the advice of the man known for driving the one woman he loved away.” Caranthir chuckled, he had learned from the best. If Avallac’h wanted a fight, he was going to give him one and Eredin was not here to stop them.

“Lara might have left me, but at least she knew who I was.” Crevan pointed toward the stairs even if there was no one there anymore. “Tell me Caranthir, how long before your arrogance and impulses drive her away? How about everything in you that Eredin has corrupted? How long before your true colors show and she walks away for real this time. What will you do then? Let her go?” Avallac’h made a fake laugh. “I saw the marks on her skin, you will not allow your possession to just walk away. I would know.”

Silence fell between the two of them. Deep down Caranthir knew they were just two elves trying to hurt each other without doing it physically. They knew each other far too well, despite how much Avallac’h had tried to hide his pain through the years, Caranthi had seen it. Avallac’h was wrong however, she was not a possession, or maybe he had sensed that was using the words to push him further?

“I need to know where Eredin keeps the girl.” Avallac’h finally said, his voice soft, no trace of the frustrated tone they both used.

“What girl?” It has been days since he has been in Tir na Lia, he had no idea what Eredin or anyone was up to.

“Cirilla.”

“I don’t really keep track of where Eredin stores his toys.” Caranthir smiled. “Now, the door is downstairs, or use a portal, I don’t care.” The storm outside calmed, but so high in the tower, the wind was still whistling against the stone.

“Caranthir, I know you messed with the potion for Auberon.” Avallac’h added without hesitation. “I also know Eredin asked you to.” pause, he did not respond, just looked at his teacher. “I also know you have cast a spell to prevent me from finding Cirilla, I would have located her by now otherwise.”

“Maybe you should try harder.” Caranthir didn’t speak in anger, but he knew the words would hit home. That was what Avallac’h would tell him every single time he was unable to cast a spell or do something that was expected of him.

“You need to look beyond your selfishness.” Avallac’h added. “You have responsibilities.”

“I do.” Caranthir smiled. “To my king.”

“He is not the true king.” Avallac’h did not raise his voice, but the anger there was obvious. “I need to find the girl, she is a key to something more important than whatever Eredin wants to use her for. He will ruin everything…”

“Everything what?” Caranthir laughed. “All your life you have believed that there is a great purpose for you Crevan. Be with Lara, be the power behind the throne, father the child to save us all. Look at you. Ended up with Lara death, me as a replacement for your child and now even the throne is not yours. You are not as special as you think you are, Crevan. You think everyone to be more stupid than you are, but Eredin knows exactly what is at stake here. As do I. We are all aware and don't need you to remind us.”

“But I'm the only one who knows how to help.” There was malice in Avallac’h’s smile now, an emotion he had not seen on the other man’s lips before. “You think you are stronger than me? You can do a lot, but we still need Ciri and your ability might be enough to keep Eredin happy, but they are not enough to save us. All of us.'' A pause followed, Caranthir was ready for an attack, but one did not follow. “Tell me, how good of a mage is she?” Avallac’h pointed up the stairs. “If I am to...collapse the roof of this ugly tower, how long do you think she will last? A minute? A second?”

“Your issue is with me not with her.” Caranthir spoke through his teeth. “Besides, it doesn matter how good she is. I can protect her.” Avallac’h was bluffing. He would not do that...wouldn’t he? The man was pragmatic, logical, in his mind the life of all of the Aen Elle was more valuable than whatever might happen here, Caranthir understood that very well.

“Protect her? Like that other one? The one that the human mages killed? Did you tell her you will protect her too? Or there was no time for that.” The tower shook and Caranthir had just a second to stop his teacher's spell, before he found himself flying across the room and hitting the wall.

“The same way you promised Lara to protect her.” he got up, clearing blood from his mouth. “How did that work for you?.” he cast a spell, Avallac'h saw it and avoided the ice falling from the ceiling, but Caranthir knew that would happen, he moved the table behind Crevan and hit the small of his back forcing him on his hands and knees. They were even now.

They looked at each other, the anger in Avallac’h’s eyes softened, there was still displeasure, but the malice was gone.

Avallac'h stood unsure why he even did that. Why was he going so far? He did not come here to threaten Caranthir or that poor girl that had nothing to do with their past. He was happy Caranthir found someone, the kid deserved to feel something other than anger.

All he needed was Ciri's location, Caranthir must know something, otherwise he would be able to sense her. The logical explanation was he had cast a spell, he could walk for days through the palace, assuming she was in the palace and look for the spell, but he did not have days.

“I should have been kinder to you.” Avallac'h changed his approach. This was how he should have started. Tell him how he really felt, apologize, especially knowing that after today they would certainly be enemies and one of them would end up dead. Hopefully not, but it was a possibility. “I should have taught you how to love.” A pause followed and the navigator did not speak either. "I am not threatening anymore and I will not hurt her or you, unless you provoke me. Where is Ciri?" the young man laughed at his words.

“You should either continue with murder attempt or leave.” Caranthir finally said calmly

“I wish you could look beyond your own hatred.” Avallac’h sighed. “Lara taught me things I didn’t know. About myself. I think you have learned something about yourself tonight as well, my boy.”

Avallac'h couldn't believe how much alike the two of them were. Not in everything, and he was to blame for all of their similarities and differences. Ironically, he was not his biological father, but judging by their characters he might as well be.

“Avallac’h, it's too late to be my father.” Caranthir finally said as if reading his mind. It was a mix between regret and pain. "I will not tell you where she is. I will not betray Eredin."

Avallac'h nodded. That one was on him. He could have been smarter but his emotions took the best of him. He opened a portal and walked away. He was going to find her himself.

Caranthir stood there not sure what happened or why. He just stared at one point on the wall, his mind numb.

"Caranthir?" Aine's voice came from the stairs, he turned his head just to see her standing back at the stairs. The look on her eyes made him snap. She was scared and she was worried. For herself or for him? "Are you okay?" She asked and he stood there...for him? That was the first time…

"I'm okay. Let's go to bed." he walked to her and wrapped his around her shoulders.

Carathir woke up sensing his spell broken. Avallac’h finally found her. He knew it was just a matter of time after their conversation yesterday he just hoped it was in more time than that. Going back to Ti na Lia wasn’t something he wanted to do right now. Aine was still asleep, her small back pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her, he had never woken up next to someone in his life, nor had he ever had the desire to do so until now. He couldn’t believe how his entire life he had missed that. Sure, until now he had the need to be someone for more than a night only once before, but the whole feeling of having someone in his arms...he buried his face closer to her, inhaling the smell of wild flowers and pine from her hair. Caranthir wished he didn’t need to go to Tir na Lia now, he could spend the day here in bed just...holding her. That was new as well.

He felt her shift a bit and he released his grip not wanting to be clingy. Funny, he managed to sleep the whole night without moving at all, that was a first as well. She rolled over looking at him with sleepy eyes. Caranthir just stared. Even half awake she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He felt bad for waking her, probably it was his tight embrace, but he could just not control himself, he needed to feel her so badly against his skin.

“Good morning.” she said as her eyes were pinned on his, he couldn’t stop admiring all the color on her. The red hair, such a contrast to the paleness of his, the vividness of her eyes, compared to the dullness of his...

“Last night...I promise that won’t happen again.” she looked at him puzzled, again he realized what he said was stupid and he should use more than three words to describe things. “I don’t mean...I mean with Avallac’h and the tower. Not what happened before that.” what happened before that he hoped would happen again. More than once. “He was out of line.”

“He is your teacher, right?” she asked as she pulled herself closer to him. Caranthir just nodded. Avallac’h was more than a teacher to him and less at the same time, but now that was not his problem. He had to tell her that he needed to leave despite not knowing for sure yet. Truth was he had no idea what was going on in Tir na Lia, he knew someone broke his spell, probably Avallac’h no one else had the power to do so, not now. Maybe Eredin captured him...he had to go.

“He was my teacher.” he finally answered, realizing that silence lasted too long. “He is something else right now.” he had to tell her, but how to do that without making it sound as if he was abandoning her. Last night she told him this was what she was afraid of, being used and then left. “Tell…” he stopped and her eyebrows raised in curiosity. Did he really want to know? “Tell me about that man. The one you said...left you.”

Aine stared at his pale eyes not sure she understood the question. She understood the words, that was not the problem, but why was he asking about that all of a sudden? Then again, she had seen probably some of the most intimate moments of his life, it was just fair.

“Well...not much to say...he was someone close to my half brother, but wanted to be closer, get more power.” That happened years ago and it still hurt her in a way. It had been a valuable lesson to learn her place. Not that much because of what he did, but because it was such a good reminder for her she had no place, neither with humans nor with elves. “He thought my father valued me more than he actually did, and he was not entirely wrong, he encountered him at a time when he was somewhat affectionate to me. We spent months together, I was happy because I felt like finally I had found my place. Finally I wasn’t neither here nor there, I was a part of something, accepted by someone...a few months passed he finally understood that my father used me to show off to elves who were sympathetic to humans, parade how generous he was to me, and ignored me the rest of the time. He tried, he asked my father if being with me makes him part of the family, my father ignored him and there was that.”

“Did you ever…” Caranthir started and then stopped half way. It was curious how hard these questions were for him, but he was the one asking, she did not share that on her own. Aine could feel his body being tense around her, his embrace a bit stronger. “Did you ever have that with him?”

“That?” she had to try to suppress a laugh. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘that’.”

Caranthir felt the air just stopping in his lungs. He knew jealousy as a feeling, but that was the first time he felt it in a romantic way. He wasn’t even sure why, whoever the elf was, that was in the past, he didn’t even know his name, and that was probably for the best as otherwise he would find him and kill him. Not for what he had done to her, but because they had something, no matter how fake it might have been. No, the real jealously came from the fact that he probably held her in his arms, the way he was holding her now, but he had not done that with anyone else.

“Held you in his arms?” he finally asked, knowing the answer.

“Caranthir, why are you asking?” she pushed herself away from him a bit, placing a hand on his chest and looking at him concerned. “Does it really matter what happened years ago, with someone who does not matter anymore?”

Why was he asking? She was right, it didn’t matter.

“We need to go back to Tir na Lia.” he finally said. He just didn’t want to sound like he was leaving her, but he was leaving her, even if it was not in the same way. “And I will have to leave with the king on a hunt most likely.” he saw the confusion and pain on her face. He reached quickly for her cheek and cupped it with his hand. “I did not plan for that to happen.”

“Can I stay here?” she finally asked, the concern in her eyes not disappearing but he could feel her body being less tense.

“No.” he laughed. “I might be gone for a day, but I might be gone for months. You can’t open a portal on your own, not even to move yourself downstairs. There is no way out of here but through a portal.” he kissed her forehead. “In Tir na Lia, you will have all of my servants, everything you’d ever need.”

“Caranthir, no…” she grabbed his hand from her face and held it in hers. “My place is not there, I’m neither human nor elf, I have no place in the palace. Not as an elf…”

He placed his finger on her lips making her silent.

“You have a place. Here and in Tir na Lia.” he opened a portal under the two of them and suddenly they moved to his rooms in Tir na Lia. They fell on his bed, the warm blankets from the Winter tower with them. “This is your place.”

Before she could protest again there was a knock on the door and one of his servants walked in, an elderly man who usually looked after everything.

“My lord, I was not aware you will be coming back.” the man bowed as he spoke, he looked at Aine for a second and then his eyes were on Caranthir again.

Aine pulled the covers closer to her chin as Caranthir got off the bed, the servant still standing there. That dynamic was not unfamiliar to her, the man was most likely trained all his life to do exactly what he was doing right now and Caranthir had grown up knowing humans were nothing but servants. She was the odd one in the situation. He got off the bed and walked around it, the servant's head bowed down but he followed his master’s movement as he went to the window on the other side of the bed. Aine used the chance to study the room, it was at least twice as big as the bedroom in the Winter Tower, the bed was softer, there was a small table with chairs, dresser next to the wall and vanity, but the mirror was covered with a sheet. That was curious, she realized just now that there was not a single mirror in the Winter Tower.

“I will be leaving Tir na Lia for a hunt.” Caranthir turned toward his servant. “In my absence, her word is my word.” The man did not answer to him, just gave her a quick look, almost as if trying to understand. Aine did not blame him. His life was easily defined. Humans served elves and there was that. She was neither. She wasn’t his mistress, nor wanted to be, but she was not his equal either. “Make sure you find her some clothes. We left everything at the Winter Tower.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed and shot another look at her, filled with confusion as if he was trying to make sure he really understood his master’s commands. He nodded and walked out.

“You don’t need to do that.” she said as the man walked away. “I don’t need servants.”

Caranthir walked toward the bed and sat at the edge, the morning light from the window reflecting in the white lines of the scars on his body.

“You said you don’t have a place.” he ran his fingers through her face. “I’m giving you one. But you will not have a place, among the Aen Elle, or among the humans, unless you decide if you want to be Aen Elle or human. It’s yours.” he made a gesture with his other hand pointing at the vast room. “There is a study next door and all the books you need on magic...hopefully I will be back soon.”

He looked at her face trying to remember all the lines, how her red hair contrasted with her skin, the mismatching eyes, the curve on her nose, the fine on her cheekbones...he hoped that would take no more than a day but he knew Avallac’h he was clever and he had already seen the rest of the Red Riders preparing in the yard. It was a matter of time before Eredin came looking.

“Why are you doing that?” she finally asked him and he was taken aback. What sort of question was that? “You don’t need to.” she added. “You can leave me in the rooms where you kept me imprisoned, they are perfectly adequate, but you are giving me your rooms. Why?”

Caranthir could not answer these questions. He could, but not actually voice it. She made him feel good, she made him forget how bad he felt about himself, she made him feel wanted for something else than being Eredin’s Navigator. He also liked holding her in his arms, just having another being that accepted him for who and what he was. Someone who in a way was as lonely as he was, someone just as him, could never find their place, because he was not a warrior like Eredin and Imlerith, but he was also different from Avallac’h. Or at least wanted to be.

“Come.” he took her hand in his and walked with her to the window where he was standing just a moment ago. She hesitated for a moment to step closer, she had nothing covering her body. “It’s okay the rooms are high enough, even if someone looks they can’t see you.” He pushed her closer to the glass and wanted her to see what he was looking at just a moment ago. Eredin and the rest of the Red Riders rushing around the yard, preparing to leave. He had not spoken with him, but he already knew what was going on. “I’m doing that, because you are doing something for me.” he kissed her neck where he could still see the marks he left on her last night. “Something to me.” He placed his hands over her belly and slid them up to her breasts, but she stopped him.

“A payment?” there was hurt in her words and Caranthir stepped back, she was not turning but she could see his reflection in the window.

“No.” he wished he was able to express what was going on in his head. The fact that he did not want to leave, not now that he actually felt good for the first time in many years. “Gratitude. Appreciation.” yes, that sounded closer to what he was feeling, probably not an accurate description but as close as he could allow himself to admit aloud. He wrapped his hands around her again, but this time sank his teeth in her skin, pulling her closer to himself trying to remember how her skin feels against his. One hand sliding between her legs, the other reaching for her breasts but she stopped him again.

“Not like that.” she turned around and faced him, placing a hand on his chest just over his heart. “Gentle.”

“I’m not sure I know how.” it wasn’t a lie. Last night was the nicest he had ever been to someone in bed and he still wasn’t sure that qualified as gentle.

“I can help you.” she stepped on her tip toes and kissed his lips. Caranthir didn’t even need to think about it, his whole body was just responding to her.

“I don’t have a lot of time.” It was partially an excuse to hide his lack of experience in being kind, but also truth. It was a matter of minutes before Eredin asked for him. He wanted to treat her differently than everyone else and he was far less ashamed of himself around her, he wouldn’t be standing naked in front of her now if that was not the case, but he had no idea where to start from.

“You don’t need a lot of time.” she kissed him again, this time he was trying to memorize the sweetness of her taste.

Aine wasn’t even sure where all that courage came in her, she knew she wanted him, just this time she wanted to look at his face, all the time. As much as she liked last night, that was different. He said he could be away for months, so she wanted to remember him.

“I will try.” he groaned as he reached down and lifted her, placing her on the window sill but still supporting most of her body. He moved one hand between her legs running a finger through her entrance feeling that she was already wet. Redness crawled trough her neck and cheeks having herself for a second day spread like that for him.

“Slowly.” she moaned as his finger was replaced by the tip of his cock. He listened, he pushed slowly in her, his hand grabbing her chin and made her look at him as he was slowly pushing in her. He was careful and gentle, trying to be. The hand that was supporting her was still digging in her skin, probably leaving bruises and she could see the lust in his eyes.

As he pushed all the way in he leaned forward and kissed her, moving the hand that was holding her chin to where they were connected, his thumb easily reaching for her clit.

“I don’t have time.” he whispered in her ear as he picked up the pace. She kissed his chest trying to silence her moans. Despite his faster and harsher pace he was trying to be kind, his lips were on her neck, but this time kissing not biting. She wrapped her legs around his urging him to go faster even if he did not really need the invitation. He moved his lips to hers just before she came around him, as his own moves became more frantic and needy. Couple of thrusts later and he came slamming his hand at the window behind her to find support.

Neither of them moved for a second, she couldn’t until he did, and he was just leaning over her looking at her unfocused and trying to catch his breath.

He didn’t step away from her but grabbed her and threw her on the bed, her back hitting the softness of the mattress.

“How was that for ‘nice’?” He did not follow her in bed, but watched her naked shape over the covers.

“We need to practice.” she teased him, as she was trying to memorize every inch of his body.

“When I am back.” he leaned forward and kissed her. For a second she thought he would follow her in bed, but he stopped over her. He pulled one of the rings from his hand and handed it to her, it was different from the one he used to teach her. This one was just a band with runes marked on it. “Keep that with yourself. If something happens, I can find it.”

“If something happens?” she could sense concern in his voice. Happens to her or to him? “No more tracking spells?” she teased, not wanting to even imagine what ‘something happens’ could mean. Not now.

“No tracking spells.” he touched her lips with his thumb. “If you are to walk away now, and leave the ring here, I won’t be able to find you.”

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't leave, not unless he asked her to, but a knock on the door prevented that.

“My lord.” it was his servant. “The king is asking for you.”

#my writing

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saelwen · 4 years

Text

Ghost Hunting with Fëanor’s sons

So, i was in the spooky mood and decide to write a Phasmophobia crossover with Fëanor’s sons. I hope you guys enjoy this One-Shot. 😂

Warnings: Spooky, funny

Words: 1,600

Masterlist

The seven brothers stood in front of the dark house quietly. Their eyes fixed on the plain knob, waiting for one of them to go in first.

"Well," Maedhros said as he looks to his brothers. "Go on."

Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, and Ambarussa shook their heads, taking a step back. Fear spreading in their eyes. Curufin sighs and walks towards the door, mumbling something under his breath.

"For fuck sake! I do it!" He said as he grabs the cold knob door and turns it to the side. He gave a gentle push but the door didn't budge.

"OH MY FUCKING ERU!!! IT'S THE GHOST!" Ambarussa yelled, making their brothers also freak out and start running around like headless chickens.

Maedhros sighs deeply and walked to the door, taking the keys from his pocket and unlock the door. "Calm down! The door was locked," he said as he walks inside, his younger brothers following him close behind. They all turn on their flashlights and began looking around the house.

"Alright. Maglor comes with me to the second floor. Celegorm and Curufin go to the garage. Ambarussa searches the main floor and Caranthir goes to the basement, okay?" Maedhros orders while he grabs his gear, his brothers doing the same.

"Wait!" Caranthir yelps. "Why do I have to go down there alone?!"

Celegorm smirks and pat his younger brother's head. "Aww Is little Caranthir scared?"

Caranthir shoves Celegorm's hand away and huffs in annoyance. "I'm not scared! If I want, I would search this all house alone!"

Maedhros, Maglor, and Curufin laughed and began searching for the ghost who has been haunting that house.

Maglor turns on the EMF reader and tries to see if he could find the ghost presence in the rooms upstairs while Maedhros tries to find fingerprints with the UV light. The rest of the brothers were doing their tasks.

Maglor passes by the bathroom and EMF reader beebs, making them stop and look to the bathroom door. Maedhros nods and gently pushes the door open. They walk inside and the EMF reader beebs louder for a second but then goes quiet.

"It was here," Maglor whispers, his breath coming out in little puffs.

Maedhros nods and points the UV light to the doorknob, seeing a small handprint there. "Yes...and it looks like she left the room." He said as he nods towards the handprint. He looks around, noticing that the room was a little chilly. He grabs his radio and put it in front of his mouth. "Guys, it looks like we have a handprint and freezing temperatures."

"Where?" Celegorm's voice sounded on the radio.

"In the bathroom upstairs," Maedhros answered. "But she's gone. I and Maglor will search the other rooms."

"Alright." They all said.

///

"I fucking hate this!" Caranthir whispers under his breath as he looks around the basement. "I'm always left out."

Suddenly, a ball role from behind a locker and stops in front of him. Caranthir stops in his tracks and points his flashlight to the ball. A shiver runs down his spine and the hair behind his neck stood up.

Carefully, he grabs the ball and looks inside the locker. "Hello?" He asked. "Is anyone here?"

"Hey!" A faint voice sounded right on his ear, making him turn back with a jump, only to find nothing in there.

"Fuck!" He growls as his flashlight starts blinking. He grabs his radio and presses the button. "Hey, guys... I think she's here."

"Alright! We will be there in a minute!" Amrod said.

Caranthir sighs and throws the ball to the locker, closing the door quietly. His body froze as he hears small footsteps behind him and sees two rotten hands in front of his eyes.

"Don't worry...You won't be alone anymore." The ghost whispers in his ear right before she kills him.

///

"Did you heard that?" Amras asked his twin while they go down the stairs of the basement.

Amrod nods and points his flashlight to the corner of the basement. His eyes widen when he saw Caranthir's body on the floor.

"Shit!" Amrod growls as he goes to his brother's body, seeing bruises on his face and neck. "Amras call the others! We need to take pictures for evidence!"

Amras looks to his twin in shock. "T-Take a picture??!! Fuck, Amrod! Our brother is dead!!" he yelped. Shaking violently, Amras grabs his radio and presses the button. "G-Guys... Caranthir is d-dddead!" he shutters.

"WHAT?!" All the brothers yelled.

"Stay put! We coming there." Maedhros said.

Amras took a deep breath and look back to his twin but to his surprise, Amrod wasn't there.

"Amrod? Amrod where are you??" Amras called in panic, looking around the room. He turns the flashlight to the other corner and a gasp fell from his lips as he sees his twin being choked by a little girl ghost.

"AMROD!" Amras yelled, grabbing the ghost's attention. "Fuck!"

Amras turns around and runs up the stairs towards the basement door, his flashlight blinking quickly. "Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He yelled as the door gets shut in his face and locks him in there.

He looks back slowly, seeing the little girl behind him.

"Come play with us," she whispers.

///

"Fuck! Amras!" Curufin cursed as he and Celegorm run towards the basement door. He tries to pull the door open but it was stuck. So, Curufin and Celegorm, both grab the doorknob and pull it with their strength.

"Come on! Pull it!" Celegorm yelled.

With two more strong pulls, the door opens and the two brothers almost fall down to the floor. Curufin gasped as Celegorm growls in annoyance when both of them saw their younger brothers dead on the basement floor.

"Fuck!....Maedhros...Maglor... You guys better come here." Curufin said on the radio. He looks to Celegorm and nods to the door. "Put some salt on the floor there while I put the journal down to see if our little ghost friend wants to speak with us." He said as he walks to the middle of the room and puts his journal down on the floor.

Celegorm finishes putting the salt on the floor when he sees the kitchen light turn on. "Maedhros? Is that you?" He asked as he goes check the kitchen. He grabs the spirit box and turns it on. "Are you here?" He whispers, seeing the numbers of the spirit box going higher.

"Yes." A mechanic male voice comes out from the box.

"Shit... I don't get paid enough for this."Celegorm whispers. "Curufin... she's here-" He stops in his tracks as he sees the little girl standing right in front of him. He lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes. "Fuck."

///

Curufin looks towards the door, swearing that he heard Celegorm calling his name. "Meh...it might be nothing," He said while shrugging his shoulders.

He looks down at the journal and took a deep breath. "Can you write in the journal what you want?" He asked the ghost.

He waits for a while his eyes fixed on the yellowish pages. As he was about to give up and walk upstairs, words start appearing in the journal pages.

Play. Play. Play. Play

"Oh? You want to play?" He murmurs as he took a step back towards the stairs. "Celegorm! Come help me here!" He yells but got no response from his brother. "Celegorm?"

A gasp echoed through the room and his flashlight starts blinking fast. "No, no, no, no." He whispers as he hears the door close and locks again. He runs to the lockers to try and hide but it was too late.

"For fuck sake." He whispers as he sees the little hands in front of his eyes.

///

"Guys? Guys?" Maedhros asked through the radio but none of his brothers answered. He looks to Maglor with a worried look. "Let's go check on them."

Maglor nods and follows him downstairs. The first thing they saw when they got down the stairs was Celegorm's body in the kitchen.

"Go check the basement while I go grab Celegorm's stuff," Maedhros said as he walks towards his brother's body.

As he kneels down to grab the spirit box, a chill scream comes from the basement. "Maglor?!" Maedhros yelled.

He runs to the basement door and sees Maglor's body at the end of the stairs. His flashlight starts blinking and loud footsteps come behind him.

"I've got you." a giggle sounded in his ear as everything goes dark around him.

A few hours later

"We lost again..." Celegorm huffs while the Fëanor's sons sat on the sofa looking down at their dead bodies.

"Why I'm always the first one to die??!!!" Caranthir growls in annoyance, his chin resting on his palm.

Maedhros looks down beside him, seeing Y/n happily playing with Maglor's hair. "Good job, Y/n." He says with a smile.

The child ghost gave him a toothless smile and giggle. "It was fun!" she said with a big grin. "Maglor screamed like a girl."

All the brothers start laughing and sharing the silly things they did while they were ghosts and playing all night with Y/n.

Hey Guys!! I hope this Halloween one-shot!!! Feel free to comment and tell me what you think!

Also, if you like my stories, you can donate on my Ko-fi and support my writing there!

☕Ko-fi☕

XOXO

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