#namo x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cilil · 11 months

Text

Námo x reader - 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Author's Note: Suggested by @singleteapot. Thank you so much! Hope you like what I came up with♡

☯ For the most part, Námo lets you do your thing. He trusts that you are smart and competent and usually doesn't consider it necessary to interfere

☯ But he soon notices your bad habits, sees how tired you are, how you sometimes forget to eat or don't get as much rest as you need to stay happy and healthy and it worries him

☯ Námo starts by asking if you're alright and if you need anything and will accept it if you decline, though he may be a bit more careful and gentle with you than normal, trying to be supportive and subtly show you that he cares

☯ If your condition doesn't improve, he'll soon get more blunt, telling you what he's been observing and that he's worried about you. Being the strict judge that he is, he won't hear excuses forever

☯ Regardless of what your answer is, Námo decides to take charge, his protective instincts kicking in. Many in Valinor have forgotten about it over the years, but he practically raised Irmo when they were young, so he developed strong feelings of responsibility for his loved ones

☯ Námo consults with Irmo and Estë to figure out what he should do. He proceeds to carry you to your shared bed, bring you your favourite food and drinks and make sure you're warm and comfortable

☯ If work was troubling you, he'll have it taken care of, and if someone was bothering you or causing problems, they'll get a stern warning from the Doomsman himself

☯ You get to experience his soft, affectionate side more than ever before. Námo sometimes has trouble expressing his feelings, but you can see how his face softens when he's around you, hear the tone of his voice changing and feel the affection in his touch

☯ Námo loves to reward your for good behaviour and progress, but he won't do so until you've earned it. He watches over you with loving strictness, making sure that his little raven recovers and feels better soon

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"I'm fine," you insist, squirming on his lap in an attempt to turn around and glare at your lover. "I can go to work tomorrow -"

"Mmh..." Námo muses, pulling you closer and kissing your parting. "As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I am not convinced."

"But the work is just going to pile up -"

"It won't. I will see to that, little raven; do not concern yourself with these things now."

"But I want -"

"Motion denied." A low chuckle rumbles in Námo's chest after he utters his final verdict, and you can't help smiling as well. It's rare for him to make jokes, and you appreciate seeing this side of him, one reserved only for his loved ones.

You lean back and snuggle up to him, finally admitting defeat. "Can I have a kiss at least?"

Námo smiles when he leans in to grant your request. "You may."

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose @floraroselaughter @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

#namo #námo #mandos #headcanons #imagines #requests #namo x reader #x reader #reader insert #second person pov #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanons #fluff #ainur #valar

73 notes · View notes

edensrose · 1 year

Text

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day six : doom

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ námo⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. death is his domain, and yet námo finds himself slipping when he sees a vision of your demise ( angst ៸៸ death ៸៸ war themes )

· ⊰ notes. I am. . . not okay and now neither will any of y'all be <3

He has seen death ample times in his millennia’s worth of existence.

He has witnessed the grief and wallowing of thousands of souls that enter his halls.

He has even found beauty in it. Death, that is. The release of responsibilities. The fierce, icy grip that would soon lead to peace.

He admired it, he envied it.

And yet. . . The day that Námo perceived your final moments, he found himself unable to function. Unable to speak, eat, sleep.

Countless times has he seen death, and yet nothing shook him more to his core than the sight of you laying there on the battlefield. Your body painted with crimson and your eyes shut. That beautiful face of yours so serene despite the wounds that littered your fána. For a moment, he may have considered the possibility of you simply lost in slumber, if it were not for the scene of chaos that carried on around you.

That is what his world had become, chaos. The realisation that he could not protect you broke him in several ways. He knew that this was unstoppable. He knew that this was fate. But what the Vala also knew is that this was cruelty in its finest. For The One to have shown him such horrible imageries — of the person he holds dear no less. . .

Námo was in a state. To know that your end would not be a peaceful send off. You would pass away in the heat of battle, the day of Dagor Dagorath. He will witness your death and yet, despite all his power and might he will not be able to reach you.

For the first time in his entire existence, he wished to listen to the whispers. To defy the very law by which Eru governs. To escape the loop. To break the will. The sight of you laying there on the ground was simply too much to bear.

It keeps him awake for weeks.

Months.

And worst of all? He finds himself drawing away from you. For whenever he sees your face, images of that fateful day to come plague his very eyes. He cannot move, cannot speak. He is ill with anxiety. Choking on the bitter reality.

He shuts you out.

He shuts you out, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Even when his mind screams at him. Reminds him that this is the route that his Creator has set out for him, he still continues. He isolates himself from you. Like a puppet on the strings he obeys and is pulled in the direction of this unwarranted fate.

It matters not how much he tries to fight it. Nor how much he wishes to scream until his lungs pour with crimson as he curses the name he has only ever known as holy.

And it is not until you are lying there on that battlefield. Peaceful amongst the chaos. Unaware of his wailing agony and his desperation to get to you. To scoop you up in his arms and savour your warmth. To whisper into your hair and kiss your lips one final time

It is only then that he truly realises the meaning of the word doom.

· ⊰ masterlist.

· ⊰ tip jar.

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @m-shade @qwerty-19923 @momoewn @tinkywinky27 @weird-addiction @yonjisu @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @floraroselaughter @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @miriel-estelwen @wandererindreams @ashfromvolcanoes @cilil @someoneinthestars @asianbutnotjapanese @stormchaser819

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊#námo #námo mandos #namo mandos #námo x reader #namo x reader #námo / reader #the silmarilion #silm #tolkien #tw death #athelasdrabblechallenge #athelas drabble challenge #drabbles #writing

53 notes · View notes

yandere-ainur-confessions · 1 year

Note

imagine yandere!Námo trapping you in the Halls of Mandos so you can be with him forever. . . ・゜゜・．☾⋆

you landed yourself in an unlucky situation by getting the vala of death to obsess over you. it's safe to say that námo was not one for romance, so when you came into his life; there was a lot of trial and error with your relationship. what he never anticipated, however, was falling in love with you to such a degree. to the point where the very thought of losing you to anyone drove him mad. you had to be his, one way or another.

as you whimper and attempt to will your body into fighting against him. yet all you can do is stare into his viridian hues as he hums you a soft lullaby. the last that you will hear from him before you enter his halls and become his subject. námo decided that the best way to keep you with him for eternity was to make your soul his. which is why you are here now, limping against his chest and staring at him with nothing but fear as he cups your face in his large hands and whispers that it will all be over soon. all while he drains your very life force.

"you will be mine,'' he breathes, voice shaky as he leans down. his dark hair brushes your face and an uncanny smile twists onto his lips. "all mine, my love. never will you leave these halls. never will you leave my side.'' his cold lips brush yours and he shudders as he feels the iciness of your skin. you are slipping into nothingness, where all you will know is him.

"you will be mine for all eternity.''

#·⊰ ꒰🥀꒱ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 ៸៸ námo ─ ♡.#námo #námo x reader #namo mandos #namo x reader #yandere!námo #yandere!námo x reader #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #ainur #valar #yandere #tw yandere #tw death #confessions

78 notes · View notes

bluezenzennie · 10 months

Text

"The heart of the forest grove"

Pentadrabble

Pairing: Námo/GN!Reader Reader is one of Yavanna's maiar.

Themes: SFW, fluff.

Synopsis: Lately, you've noticed Námo crackling under stress with his duties laying heavy upon his shoulders. Despite his dismissals and denials for a break, you drag him with you to one of your lady's forest groves, to alleviate some of the stress.

Warnings: /

Characters mentioned: Yavanna, Manwë, Vairë, Irmo & Nienna

"Little crow-" "Námo." You mutter under your breath, exasperation laced all over your tongue, tired of his occasional excuses of getting back to work. A deep sigh escapes your throat as you turn your head to stare stubbornly into his viridian eyes... Which, of course, return the same kind of determined stubbornness, tenfold. You speak up again: "I am tired of watching you wander aimlessly in your exhaustion. Your role as the doomsman is important, yes, but so is your health. Anyone else would tell you this Námo, everyone is trying to tell you this." The smallest grunt leaves him, it is not one of disagreement nor agreement, perhaps one from somewhere in between the both, you're not too sure.

You had been dragging Námo towards one of the forest groves that you, yourself, usually go to when you're in need of peace, for what seemed like hours to him. When in reality it had only been thirty minutes and no less, that was how tired he was, and it worried you, like it worried his maiar and the other valar.

You hated when he forgot to take care of himself. You knew that when he didn't even listen to Manwë, Vairë, or even Irmo and Nienna, matters had to be dealt with immediately, before the doomsman burned himself out, snuffing the flame burning the candlewick with his own hands. Usually, the five of you would have your own turns at getting him to cave in and rest, even if it was just for a little while, and it succeeded most of the time! But when nothing seemed to work with anyone this time, you had given him a scolding.

It was meant with all the love within your fëa, and it was a habit you had picked up from observing and experiencing the way your lady Yavanna would scold when she was worried for someone. It was a light scolding of course, but it was enough to get him to cave in and let you drag him out of his halls.

So there you were, now standing in the middle of your beloved forest grove, the grassy and mossy ground covered with snowdrops and lilies, rose bushes with the most beautiful pink roses decorating them, the leaves that held them vibrant green, some viridian hued, that matched his eyes perfectly. "Sit." You insisted, urging him down to join you on the mossy forest ground, by tugging at the long black sleeve of his robe. The sound of a thud against soft moss echoes throughout the grove for a moment, as Námo allows his tired legs to cave in, not because you told him to do so, of course... Well, maybe because of you too, just a little bit.

"Would you like me to braid your hair?" Your gentle voice sends tingles down his spine, the smallest tint of pink dusting his pale cheeks as you tug gently at one of his black tresses. "I... Alright, fine, why not." He inhales and exhales deeply, taking in the fresh air of the shaded forest grove, whilst watching the life around it. Perhaps, this wasn't that bad, perhaps, all he really did need was to get out for a little while.

A/N: I need this man to sit down, drink some really good tea and eat some good sweets and let people take care of him. He needs a break.

Taglist: @edensrose

Want to get tagged for more like this? Here's my Tolkien taglist

Likes & reblogs are very appreciated <3

#Námo/reader #Namo/reader #Námo x reader #Namo x reader #GN reader #x reader #the silm #the silmarillion #Namo mandos #Námo mandos #silm #silm fic #Namo fluff #pentadrabble #˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚|| The overgrown sanctuary || - ⊹˚. ☼

24 notes · View notes

dirty-ainur-confessions · 1 year

Text

❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 , shameless

one would think that námo has some semblance of shame and filter, but that's your biggest mistake. in fact, you'd learn just how shameless the vala of death could be during the crushing and flirting stages of your relationship.

while he wasn't much of a verbal flirt, you absolutely adored trying to make him flustered. so one day, during a dinner with his maiar, you flashed him a little heart sign with your thumb and forefinger when no one was looking. perhaps even muttered something flirtatious and inherently sexual that you were certain only he would hear.

and the response? well,

let's just say you were left stunned and weak in the knees when he stared upon you with that usual blank, imposing stare — before his hand slips up. two of his fingers press at the sides of his lips in a v shape and he oh so nonchalantly poked his tongue through the sign.

you were no fool, you were well aware of what it meant and it was the last thing you expected from námo. was it a threat? a promise? you weren't sure, you could already feel your panties dampen.

you'd learn later that day that it was indeed the latter. for you were spread out on his sheets with his face buried into your cunt and eating you out until you were bucking and creaming all over his tongue. needless to say, you couldn't look him in the eye for a week straight.

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ námo ─ ♡.#námo #námo x reader #namo #namo x reader #namo mandos #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #smut #minors dni #imagines

66 notes · View notes

kiatheinsomniac · 1 year

Text

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day twenty-eight: collar and leash - Námo

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

notes: my first time writing for Námo!

word count: 1k

warnings: smut, NSFW content, MDNI, collar and leash, dom/sub dynamics

The pressure around your neck forced your head up from where you had previously been muffling all of your noises in your folded arms. Your back had been pulled into an arch that was borderline painful, your fingernails scraping at the stone floor beneath you. You let out choked moans as the sound of Námo’s hips driving into you echoed off the stone walls in the cells of the Halls of Mandos.

You had been teasing your lover all day, your lover who had a very dominant streak that he let out in the bedroom and other non-sexual acts of dominance when caring for you. You adored that part of him and were usually so happy to comply with his wishes, his best little maia, but today you had wanted to rile him up a bit. He had been so soft and tender with you as of late and, as much as you loved his affection, you were craving the utterly depraved way in which he would fuck you when he was feeling frustrated or jealous and so you had spent the whole day teasing and denying him, even flirting a little with Irmo (who was your conspirator in this plan) right in front of your lover. But Námo knew you well enough to know that you weren’t losing interest in him but simply finding great amusement in pushing him a little.

So, here you were, his hips bruising the backs of your thighs and his cock forcing its way into the tightness of your walls over and over again, the chain of the leash at your neck wrapped around his fist as he held your back into an arch, delighting in your half-choked and breathless moans. He glanced down to where your pussy was stretched around him, seeing how his cock glistened with your arousal in the dim lighting.

“Is this what you needed, hm?” He groaned, pulling you back even further so that he could coil an arm around your waist and hold you against his chest, “For me to fuck the brat out of you and make you my good girl again?” He felt your walls flutter around him as your head lolled back against his shoulder with a moan. “Tell me, darling.” His voice drawled out right by your ear but all that could leave your lips were a series of high-pitched moans as the hand holding the leash at your neck pushed down on your shoulder, making you take the full force of the next series of thrusts he gave you.

He clicked his tongue at your silence and you were pushed back down with your head towards the floor, the slight tension on the collar and leash at your throat serving to remind you of who was in control here. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Yes!” You gasped out, “Need it… n-need you…” He let out a low laugh at how strained your voice was.

“What do you need from me, darling? Tell me.” The tone in his voice left no room for disobedience as much as the collar at your throat.

“Need you to… fuck!” You exclaimed as he delivered a harsh spank to your ass, “-Fuck the brat out of me.” You could feel the tremble in your thighs when he eased up on his brutal pace and instead focused on slower and deep thrusts that hit your sweet spot each time. He then withdrew from you entirely, the sounds of fabric rumpling behind you.

Large hands landed on your waist before turning you over, your back meeting the velvet of his cloak that he had laid out beside you.

“It’s not too tight at all, is it?” He checked in, sticking some of his fingers between the collar and your throat to assure that it wasn’t cutting off your airway or circulation and that there was plenty of room.

“No, no, not at all.” You replied, breathless from how he had been fucking you. Námo leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hair tickling your skin before withdrawing.

“That’s my good girl…” He murmured as he looked down at you, gently raising your thighs to put them over his shoulders, watching your face intently as he slowly slid his cock back into your aching walls, making you really feel all of him. He then leaned over you, practically folding you in half and pinning you under his weight before he began fucking you with harsh thrusts once more. You were left moaning and babbling nonsense beneath him, earling a coo of faux sympathy from him. “Am I fucking you that good, little one?” He mused and you tried to turn your face away from his mocking tone, only to feel the tug on the leash that made you fix your eyes back on him. “You just love being fucked like this don’t you?” You tried to reply verbally but all you could manage out were moans, whimpers and a nod of your head. “That’s alright, darling, you don’t need to say it.” You cried out when your legs were pushed flush to your chest, your vala holding you down in a mating press as that coil in your abdomen snapped and you came around his cock, hearing the hiss he let out at the way your walls clamped down around him, even despite how your head began to swim with pleasure. “Not when this needy pussy tells me everything I need to know…”

“Pl-ease.” You let out, voice breaking as he continued to fuck you into overstimulation.

“Please don’t stop?” He asked, voice condescending, “Of course not, especially not after how you teased me earlier.” He couldn’t help but let out a moan by your ear at the feeling of how tightly your body was gripping his cock, “I’m just giving you what you asked for, darling.” There was yet another tug on the leash and he found your teary eyes oh so beautiful. “I own you-” another slight tug on the leash, chains clinking, “-don’t I?” You quickly nodded your head.

“P… lease don’t s-stop.” You sighed out, blissfully.

“Oh, believe me, little one, we’re not stopping until you can’t take anymore.”

☾ ⋆ﾟ MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

☾ ⋆ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@edensrose @involuntaryspasms @eunoiaastralwings @spidergirla5

58 notes · View notes

ainur-confessions · 2 years

Text

❪ ♡ ❫ ── modern!námo & manwë | polyamory

imagine how absolutely spoilt you would be in a modern setting when dating these two ( they're both dating you but not each other )

you cannot tell me these two do not just radiate s*gar daddy vibes right off the bat. if it's not manwë taking you on extensive shopping trips and immediately getting you everything that you look at for more than five seconds — then it's námo planning out your meals and making sure that they're all delivered to your doorstep along with a bouquet of flowers, that his brother helped pick out, weekly.

imagine getting your nails done with námo or trying out a variety of dresses for manwë.

of course, they meet in the middle when it comes to you and both have no issue with the amount of time you spend with the other. more often than not they are both with you. if one's driving, the other's in the backseat with you. if námo has a case that morning, manwë's ensuring you get your breakfast, if manwë's in a meeting a bit later than expected, námo's pulling up to your university / workplace to pick you up.

oh, and about picking you up from university / workplace, it is an entire riot when they BOTH show up. manwë coming in to lead you out and put his coat over your shoulders. your colleagues are practically staring in envy — and then they see námo leaning against the car. surely not —

and just as expected námo loops an arm around your shoulders and kisses your head before getting you into car. both of them following after.

oh, this isn't even half of it.

#·⊰ ꒰🎐꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ៸៸ námo ─ ♡.#·⊰ ꒰🎐꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#námo #námo mandos #manwë #manwë súlimo #námo x reader #manwë x reader #namo x reader #manwe x reader #manwë x reader x námo #manwe x reader x namo #polyamory #the silmarillion #tolkien #ainur #valar #imagines

61 notes · View notes

ainur-interactions · 2 years

Note

Namo darling I want a baby

slowly, the vala of death looks over at you. straight in the eye, before he motions to the side where gorgumoth sits confused. “we already have the dog.”

#·⊰ ꒰🌸꒱ 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ៸៸ námo ─ ♡.#námo x reader #námo #namo #namo x reader #námo mandos #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #ainur #valar #interactions

62 notes · View notes

wint3r-h3art · 1 year

Note

for Christmas I would like namor to gift me a butt plug encrusted with the finest talokan jewels. that’s all 🤠

I imagine him gifting you a box with various sizes to work you up and train you to fit him 🤭 of course on the actual day, you get to try the real thing

#linda answered #namor imagine #namo x reader #namor thirst post

22 notes · View notes

feralteapot · 1 year

Text

Feral for Námo hours

#the silmarillion #silm #namo #Námo #namo x reader #námo mandos

4 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 3 months

Text

The Ainur | With A Short Reader

Request: Can I make a request for headcanons for how the Ainur would be with a short human reader? Around 5 foot tall? Like an elf of about 6 feet would only reach up to some of their chest or lower still, considering they’re like 7-9 foot tall. Would they be cute, teasing, protective, frustrated by the height difference? P.s. I love the way you characterise all the Ainur, it really feels like their personality, you do a fantastic job. - anon

A/N: Happy to fulfil this request and learn that you enjoy my characterisations of them anon. I tend to envision the Ainur as nothing less than nine feet since they are deities and display their power through their heights. So you’re going to appear super short next to them. Nonetheless, Enjoy!

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Manwë

The bird was too stunned to speak. Are you a child or dwarf, certainly that could not be your final height at the end of your growth? Unfortunately, it is your complete height which makes you appear as a little bird before the great King. Now his nickname ‘little bird’ makes more sense.

He cannot fathom how you can be the same size as a bean and packed with all that sass whenever he mentions how tiny you are. You require a ladder if you ever reach his head for a ‘level-headed’ talk.

Has no issue picking you up with one hand and carrying you around like his personal comfort toy when he’s having a bad day. Anyone commenting or teasing gets a look that speaks about them receiving a bolt of lightning.

Let us not forget his avian side which is going to fawn over how adorable you are. You’re tiny and squishy, perfect for belonging in his nest where he can shower you in affection all day long.

The size difference is outstanding. Just picture a baby lying in their parents' bed, looking like a little nugget among the pillows…that’s what you appear like anytime you snuggle in his bed. On numerous occasions, he didn’t see you and almost squished you under the sheets.

With your size, it means wearing his robes and marching around his room or Ilmarin pretending to be him while he silently watches from afar. You are drowning in his robes, don’t even wear his shirt, it’s a gown on you.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Irmo

Your size doesn’t change the way he’s going to shower you with ultimate love and affection. Apart from the minor teasing he’ll conduct for the fun of the situation, Irmo loves you the same way if you are tall.

A gentleman who enjoys using the opportunities when granted to lift you over puddles or streams so he can fawn over how you fit in his arms. He (and the others) can lift you with his pinkie and has done it before.

You are authorised to always sleep on his chest—you look like a kitten sleeping on his chest in his eyes—mainly because you like to roll and so does he and nothing good has arisen from you both rolling together.

Gets lost in crowds and he panics. He’ll be walking around asking if anyone has seen his little lover and he will give descriptions. “They’re about 5 feet, this short and very tiny. They look like an elfling…”

Saw children’s clothing on a walk with you in a boutique, did not know they were for children and excitedly stated, “Oh look! I believe these would look lovely on you! They even have your colours.”

Do not be upset with him, he didn’t know that it was children’s clothing. Irmo only wished to share the moment of shopping with you. But worry not, he gathers the best seamstresses and tailors to fashion you the finest wear that looks nothing like children’s clothes.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Námo

Has a smile on his face anytime you take the lead and walk in front of him, hence his reason for always telling you to lead the way. He’s a simple Vala, he wants to watch as you waddle like a duck with your short legs as you take him to Eru knows where.

Pretends to complain when you ‘borrow’ his robes because you missed him, but gushes mentally at the sight of how you’re drowning in his forever monochromatic black robes.

His viridian eyes were soft at the sight of you walking around, dragging his robes all over. The idea of complaining about getting them dirty has disappeared, and all he is thinking about is how you look like a penguin.

Your feet running across his halls are the equivalent of tiny pitter-patter and it’s how he can easily distinguish your presence; just listen for the tiny footsteps. But it never works out well when you’re among elves and lost in a crowd.

The first time you met his brother, Irmo mistook you for a child Námo adopted and congratulated his brother on softening up to the idea of children. To make matters worse, you played along—much to Námo’s annoyance—and clung to his arm, calling him ‘atar/daddy’.

Irmo was elated, you were dying of laughter and Námo was contemplating his life. He couldn’t believe this was the humour he signed up for the moment he fell in love with someone shorter than most individuals.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Ulmo

Mistook you for the child wandering the shores the first time he saw you in the distance and scolded you for playing in the deep waters without parental supervision. That was until he learned you weren’t a child and your permanent height for a lifetime.

‘Pebble’ was the most suitable nickname he gifted you since pebbles were small and cute…like you. Plus, he brings you pebbles, seashells and pearls from the ocean floor as a token of affection.

Because you’re smaller, your strokes as you swim alongside him are slower, so he’ll call the seals, dolphins or whales to swim alongside you for assistance. You’re even allowed to ride them anytime you two are swimming out in the depths.

Since Ulmo’s true form is staggering, he opts to appear around the same height as you are anytime he has to walk the earth. His favourite place to have walks would be the beach obviously.

Hand holding while watching the sunset and he’s quietly staring at your short fingers holding his larger hand. He loves holding your hand to fawn over the size. He would even slip on a cute ring with a pearl one day.

Because Ulmo is known for having no resting place as he wanders the waters of the world, he enjoys visiting your home. It’s even better if you live near a lake for him to have easier access to seeing you frequently. Cue Ulmo marvels at how small your household items are as he picks them up.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Oromë

Congratulations, you are the perfect size to sit on all of his creatures (and him) to ride through the forest with him. He cannot get over your tiny figure because he knows that you’re about the same size as an elfling and all his creatures are larger than you.

Roughhousing is a thing that occurs between you both and he gets caught up in the experience to forget how easily he can send you on a trip to Estë for healing…because it has happened multiple times.

Picks you up like a sack of potatoes and slings you over his shoulder when he has to carry you somewhere and you’re being troublesome, or he wants to randomly surprise you. You’re as light as a feather as he runs with you through the forest.

Swinging from his muscular arms anytime he flexes his muscles for you? Yes, yes you do, and he loves it. Fuels his ego to know that he’s strong and his lover can climb him like a tree. Clinging to his muscular physique and probably biting him? Yes, you do that he calls you a tiny beast who needs to be tamed.

Not the type to underestimate the size of a creature you can ride because of your size but is also cautious at the same time. Wanted to gift you a Shetland pony because you were small enough to ride one, but back out last minute knowing that he would receive an earful. Gave you a giant-sized tiger or dog as a companion.

You wear his pelts and pretend to act like him, attempting to wield his bow—sweetheart, you couldn’t even draw the strings—as though you were hunting.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tulkas

No different from Oromë and will playfight with you using the strength in his pinkie finger and you’d still have to bandage some body parts because accidents happen all the time. No worries though, he praises your injuries and makes you feel as though you fought a great battle with him.

He has no doubts, dismisses your strengths and associates them with your size having seen many great warriors display outstanding strengths and feats despite their size. Instead, he encourages you to take pride in your size and all the greatness you can accomplish.

You got a workout buddy, or rather he got a new dumbbell to lift or someone to sit on his back for push-ups. Your weight is inconsequential, but it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the fun in the moment.

Also picks you up like a sack of potatoes and carries you around the place, introducing you to all his close friends and elves. Anytime you need to speak ‘eye-level’ with him, instead of going to lengths to climb tables or a tree, he’ll kneel to your level.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Melkor

Getting called dwarf, child, or both the first time you meet will result in him changing the names and calling you a critter if you attempt to attack him for calling you short. Probably ‘ankle biter’ might be your new name because he denoted that small things have the most rage.

You’re a ferocious ankle-biter in his eyes whose nerves he enjoys getting on because your responses are hilarious. It’s all in jest…or maybe not.

Nothing of his will ever fit you, that also means trying to wear his crown with the Silmarils. It’s currently sitting on your neck as we speak. All you can do is make versions of his outfits tailored to your size.

You’re smaller, so his hands can cover your entire face. Know what that means? Squish your cheeks as you speak to admire how soft and dough-like they are. “Hm, ankle biter, you have remarkably soft cheeks,” he says while squishing your face.

There’s nothing you can climb on to meet his height because he makes sure that there isn’t anything around. He wants you to break your neck looking up at him (bite his ankles and he’ll reach your height).

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Eönwë

“You’re like a hummingbird minus the speed,” he chuckled upon the first sight of your tiny figure. You were lucky he didn’t consider you a lost child who wandered before him in search of help because he was ready to call you ‘child’.

I have to say, Eӧnwё is the best person to try the same ‘daddy’ prank on when you’re walking through the streets of Valimar but clinging to him and acting like a child for the elves to fawn over how adorable the interaction is. There is always an elf who inquires for you to look them in the eye and say, “This is my atya!”

His avian side adores your tininess; and makes you all the more delicate and squishable. You are never again going to leave the nest…just joking, but his protective side goes up a notch because you are TINY.

I mean, he loses you in a crowd easily and you can’t even jump high enough to show your location. You can climb a table or chair but still have to get past the sea of heads before Eӧnwё spots you.

Gets you the smaller version of everything so you don’t have to struggle with holding the larger objects. He once watched as you climbed a chair as if it were a mountain or fought with a glass of wine because the glass was too big to hold.

At least going on flights doesn’t change whether you’re extra small or bigger. Visits in the morning and takes you to watch the sunrise over the mountain from a bird’s eye view.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tilion

Doesn’t matter if you’re tiny or tall, you still look the same from his view in the sky as he guides the moon. But he does melt at the sight of you looking up at the moon.

You are forever his ‘little deer’ even though you’re probably feisty and love to bite or nibble on his arms all the time. Similar to Oromë, carries you around like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, but more for the fun of watching your short legs dangle.

Doesn’t alter the size of any furniture so he can observe your legs dangling over the edges and sway, or the size difference between you and the table designed for a nine-foot entity.

Roughhousing is a constant must-have between you both because he adores pinning your smaller body under his and making you fight back. Tilion just wants to watch you struggle and wiggle like a worm. Bite him.

Puts you to sleep on top of him because it is the safest option unless you want to be crushed under a giant nine-foot Maia, and you look like a tiny kitten curled up on his chest. The only thing he hasn’t done is pick you up by your scruff.

He’s such a tease when it comes to you both riding through the forest. Tilion will purposefully place you behind him so you can’t see a thing and then tease you about being too small. But it’s all in jest because he’ll have you ride an elk or reindeer or even a pony that was handpicked to match your size.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Mairon

He also assumed you’re an ankle biter as well because he called you short and you were ready to attack. Please, do not release him from your tyranny because he will make fun of your height and pat your head or rest his arm atop your head when he’s resting. Again, bite him.

Complains about your short legs and how slow you are when you’re walking side-by-side but comes to you later to ask for assistance because some tool of his fell into a small hole and you’re tiny enough to get it.

Tells you that he’ll feed you to his wolves if you don’t stop clinging to him when in truth, he loves it. You’re small enough to not be a distraction as he moves about his forge or the fortress, but it’s just Mairon being a tsundere.

Doesn’t see you lying in his bed because his bed is huge and you’re extra small, so he almost lies atop your body. It’s turned into a staring match like how children stare you down without blinking.

Has a tendency to carry you around, for funsies, by holding onto your belt or grabbing the back of your clothes so you dangle as he powers through the corridors until he arrives at his Lord holding you like a briefcase.

Deep down, as much as he teases your size, he enjoys the differences. Watching you fight to lift an object made for his size or dress in his clothes—if you’re brave enough to try this—is entertaining.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

141 notes · View notes

cilil · 10 months

Note

Hi! I’m new to your blog and I don’t know if your requests are open ( if not I’m sorry just disregard this🫠) but if they are can you write something NSFW with Námo and a fem reader? Like maybe he sees her talking to someone in Mandos (like Feanor or someone) and gets jealous and then decides to remind her that she’s his? The spicier the better 🔥🔥🔥

Author's Note: I haven't officially opened requests for stuff outside of small events and challenges, but I was planning to do that sometime so why not~🖤

A Reminder

Characters: Námo/femMaia!reader Synopsis: Námo sees his favourite Maia spending a little too much time with a certain Noldo and decides to remind her that she belongs to him Featuring: Smut, BDSM, spanking, creampie Warnings: Explicit

"Come."

His command echoes within your mind, the force of his voice drowning out all others, and you find yourself losing focus on your current conversation.

"My lord-?"

"Now."

You tremble slightly, causing the elven fëa in front of you to draw closer, thoughts of concern on his mind. Perceptive as ever, Fëanor has already noticed your moment of distraction and immediately asks, "Is something the matter?"

You compose yourself as quickly as you can and reach out with your fëa to send a few calming thoughts, not wishing to worry him. Given how gloomy and quiet the Halls of Mandos could be, conversing with the rebellious Noldo has become one of the more delightful activities for you – and one your fellow Maiar gladly leave to you, finding themselves exasperated by his temperament.

"I am afraid I must cut our conversation short," you respond and bow your head respectfully. "Lord Námo summons me."

"A pity." Fëanor regards you with a certain warmth, an unusual sight. It hasn't escaped his notice either that not many of both your and his own kind are willing to be in his company, and though apprehensive at first, your feelings of appreciation seem to be reciprocated. The thought makes you smile.

"I will return in time," you promise, then hurry to appear before your lord. The sharpness in his tone earlier leads you to believe that he isn't in the mood to wait for you.

Námo is sitting on his throne with an air of otherworldly elegance, one elbow placed on the armrest as he appears to be pondering some kind of issue. His eyes meet yours as soon as he senses your presence, and you feel heat and cold alike course through you like electricity.

Something has displeased him.

"There you are, my little raven."

Námo's voice betrays nothing, yet he continues to regard you with thinly veiled discontent.

"My lord," you greet him and bow deeply. "How may I assist you?"

It feels strange to be so formal, you notice, after spending nights of passion in your lord's bed. Nevertheless, you know he prefers to court in private, and expects you to be on your best behaviour as a Maia of Mandos.

Námo seems like he hasn't paid attention to your question, but doesn't keep you waiting for too long. "I appreciate your hard work and dedication, yet I must admit that I find myself displeased when I see you spending so much time with a certain Noldo."

Your eyes widen. Until now, you weren't aware that he's been keeping an eye on you, let alone that he doesn't approve of your encounters with Fëanor.

"He seemed like he was in need of company," you attempt to defend yourself, but Námo raises his hand, signalling you to be silent.

"Your patience and kindness is commendable. My sister would certainly be proud," he says, yet in spite of praising you, his gaze betrays his displeasure. "And even so, you must remember that you belong to me first and foremost."

Your fána heats up as his eyes roam your form, desire causing them to darken, and your heart flutters in your chest. You want to tell him that you do belong to him and no one else, but something tells you that Námo won't be satisfied with mere words. Not when he looks at you like this, not when he speaks to you with such possessiveness in his voice. He will seek to claim you once again, and the realisation sparks desire within you as well.

You want to be his.

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Námo suggests, though you both know his words are more akin to an order, and beckons you closer with a small wave of his hand.

You nod, flushing red under your hood and approach his throne with shaky steps. Will he take you right here, you wonder, to show everyone to whom you belong? It seems like it when he pulls you onto his lap and starts kissing you roughly, capturing your lips with his while his hands take hold of your smaller fána.

"P-please, my lord... not here–"

Námo lets out a quiet chuckle. "You don't want me to spread your lovely legs and take you in front of my court? I feel like you would enjoy it..."

His hand reaches underneath your hood to seize a fistful of your hair, tugging lightly to expose your neck for better access.

"But you have a point. The sight of your true beauty is mine alone to behold, and I don't want others desiring what belongs to me."

"Námo-!"

You barely manage to call out his name before the world around you suddenly shifts and blurs. He's bringing you somewhere else, but you don't know where until your back hits something soft and you look up at Námo looming over you with a stern expression. A quick glance around reveals that you're lying on his bed, his left hand resting on your chest to hold you in place in case you choose to defy his silent command. You let all tension leave your muscles as proof of your obedience and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what should be done to remind you of your place.

"Are you ready to be disciplined, little raven?" Námo asks. His voice is gentle and his mien relaxes as he utters those words, despite the lust and hunger shining in his eyes; even though he enjoys to be strict and dominant and his jealousy was very much genuine, he would never punish or claim you against your will. He knows he has acted on instinct and will not rob you of your chance to say no.

"I am ready, my lord," you whisper and bite your lip, shifting on the bed as heat begins to pool inside you. "I think I very much am in need of discipline."

Námo accepts your words with a pleased nod. "A confession is the first step, but I am afraid you will still have to submit to punishment so you will remember not to stray too far from my side again."

You lower your gaze in a display of penitence. "Of course, my lord."

Both of you are more than aware that neither of you regrets this, yet you love to commit to playing your roles accordingly. Námo doesn't take off your robes, letting his hand trail down your body instead. Slowly and methodically, he pulls up your skirt to expose your lower body and removes your panties. You squirm in anticipation and watch as his long fingers wrap around your ankles and lift your legs with just one hand, pushing them closer to your chest to expose your backside.

The first slap comes without warning, and you let out a soft gasp, realising that your lord intends to spank you.

"Whom do you serve?" Námo asks, accentuating his question with another well-aimed slap to your other thigh.

"Y-you, my lord–"

Slap.

"Articulate yourself properly."

"I-I serve you, my lord..."

A small smile, a curt nod. Nevertheless, he continues to spank you in-between questions.

"And to whom do you belong?"

"You – ah – I'm yours, my lord!"

"Indeed."

More slaps. Your ass and thighs start feeling warm.

"Do you think I like to share what is mine?"

"N-no, my lord..."

"Very good, little raven. So where should you be?"

"I should be... a-at your side... always–"

Námo rewards you with one final slap, then rubs your reddened skin soothingly. Despite the pain – or perhaps because of it – you feel yourself getting wet.

"Then you should know better than to spend all your time talking to rebellious fëar," he admonishes, "and if you keep disobeying me, I will have to use other means than just my hands next time."

The prospect is tempting. You wonder if you should disobey him on purpose, just to see what punishment he will devise for you, but your thoughts are interrupted when Námo releases your ankles to spread your legs. He pushes two fingers inside you, letting out a content hum as he feels your wetness dripping onto his hand all too eagerly.

"Good girl... so ready for me..."

You can't wait to have him inside you. Thankfully Námo doesn't keep you waiting - you hear the rustling of fabric as he parts his robes just enough to free his erection and feel him entering you without further delay. He pushes slowly but steadily, savouring the feeling of your tight walls parting for him, and you claw at the sheets underneath you.

"Ah– Námo-!"

"Do you like this?" he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against yours while he speaks. "Do you enjoy being claimed, my lovely little raven?"

"Y-yes-!"

Námo allows you a few precious seconds of adjusting to his size before he starts moving. It's not gentle lovemaking this time, no – he fucks you with hard, almost frenzied thrusts, strict and merciless like when he passes judgement, making sure to penetrate you as deeply as he can. While your moans and cries of bliss fill the room, your lord is a silent lover, listening to the beautiful noises you make instead.

He seizes your legs once again and pushes them up to your chest to go deeper still, pleased as your smaller fána arches helplessly underneath him and the song of your pleasure increases in volume yet again.

"So good for me, such a good girl..." Námo groans, pupils dilating in pure lust and hunger until his eyes are dark like a starless night. "I will fill you with my essence so you won't forget to whom you belong... so they will all know you are mine..."

You can only nod in agreement, and he fulfils his promise shortly after, releasing deep inside you. It seems to you as if he couldn't wait to fill you up, couldn't wait to lay claim to you in the most intimate way possible, and you take all he gives you.

Námo stays inside you for a while, making sure not a single droplet of his essence is wasted, and starts humming a soothing tune. You know this is yet another way for him to mark you, leaving an echo of his song on your fëa like an invisible imprint, ensuring that neither Ainur nor the fëar of Mandos will dare to come too close to you; and this, too, you accept gladly.

"All mine," Námo whispers and kisses your lips.

"All yours," you mumble obediently, eyes falling close as a sensation of comfortable weariness slowly overcomes you.

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

read more? main masterlist get tagged for my writing? tag list form

#namo #námo #mandos #namo x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #female maia reader #ainur #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #2nd person pov #oneshot #silm smut #smut #minors dni #cílil writes #my writing

43 notes · View notes

edensrose · 2 years

Text

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ tolkien characters ⠀〳 ⠀reader ❜᭡ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

·⊰ 𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 : their preferences in bed ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ italics = applies to them )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTHRANDUIL

fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus ៸៸ edging ៸៸ overstimulation ៸៸ biting/marking ៸៸ orgasm control ៸៸ degradation ៸៸ praise ៸៸ creampie ៸៸ erotic humiliation ៸៸ breath play ៸៸ choking ៸៸ impact play ៸៸ somnophilia ៸៸ bondage ៸៸ temperature play ៸៸ dacryphilia ៸៸ mirror play ៸៸ guided masturbation ៸៸ cockwarming ៸៸ toys ៸៸ agoraphilia ៸៸ thigh riding ៸៸ face sitting ៸៸ dry rutting ៸៸ teasing ៸៸ sensory deprivation ៸៸ muffling ៸៸ power play ៸៸ hair pulling

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEGOLAS

fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus ៸៸ edging ៸៸ overstimulation ៸៸ biting/marking ៸៸ orgasm control ៸៸ degradation ៸៸ praise ៸៸ creampie ៸៸ erotic humiliation ៸៸ breath play ៸៸ choking ៸៸ impact play ៸៸ somnophilia ៸៸ bondage ៸៸ temperature play ៸៸ dacryphilia ៸៸ mirror play ៸៸ guided masturbation ៸៸ cockwarming ៸៸ toys ៸៸ agoraphilia ៸៸៸៸ thigh riding ៸៸ face sitting ៸៸ dry rutting ៸៸ teasing ៸៸ sensory deprivation ៸៸ muffling ៸៸ power play ៸៸ hair pulling

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ MAIRON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ MELKOR

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMANWË

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIRMO

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ NÁMO

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ FËANOR

taglist — @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @snakesofindia-sursesaji @theroguemaia @heraluthor @the-girl-king @yellowbadgermole @aeonianarchives

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊#thranduil x reader #legolas x reader #mairon x reader #melkor x reader #manwe x reader #irmo x reader #namo x reader #feanor x reader #smut #smut tw #minors dni #the silmarillion #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #imagines #writing

313 notes · View notes

justpostsyeet · 10 months

Text

Random elf : What is on your neck Lindir?

Lindir*adjusting is collar* : Nothing!

Random elf : Got frisky last night, didn't you?

Lindir*blushing* : yes

Also Lindir remembering how he challenged Mîr that she couldn't hurt him and she fucking bite his neck.

60 notes · View notes

lamemaster · 1 year

Text

A Deceitful Peace (Glorfindel x Reader)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: The submerged lands of Gondolin hold 16 graves. Tales do not mention them. Few of the living know of them leave for the Vala of death and one elleth.

Warnings: Death, gore, violence

The last of the Orcs fell from your blade. Your fellow soldiers who had barely survived finally got a chance to breathe. The city had fallen. Gondolin was gone. Its lords, gone with it. Yet, a small party persevered. A party that stood as the last defense for the fleeing survivors.

Death was looming on the shoulder of those who finished slaying the last of the enemy’s host. Fighting a battle they had already lost but it was worth it for all those who had a chance for a better life.

Next to you soldiers collapse with their blades too heavy. A dozen bleeding wounds and staggering breaths betrayed how little life was left in their bodies. Maybe it was a small mercy from Mandos that they had survived this long. Beyond the tolerance of the elven body.

Smoke and ash make those last breaths painful. Your fellow soldiers cough miserably. Wet, uncontrollable coughing fits that lead to increased blood loss. The city is engulfed by flames. It is clear that your pyre was set by nature itself.

However, you do not allow yourself the relief of a welcomed death like others. Your blade is no longer clutched in your arms and you take off your quiver that held a couple of arrows. With practiced motions, you take off your now knife-less bandolier.

In a trance, you make your way through the bloodied fields that were once your home. Your carelessly untie your hair pulled back in tight braids. Particles of ash fall off as your hair frees into the air. Weaponless, unguarded, uncaring you walk. There is a possibility that there may be lingering enemies but with your end so close you do not care. You would rather die on this journey looking for him than spend your last breath weary of cursed ones.

On the way, you stumble as a face stares back at you. Your friend’s face. Beheaded. Speared. Rog stares at you. His body was nowhere to be seen. Even in the most gruesome scene, your dearest friend’s expression holds no fear.

With trembling hands, you struggle to pull off your friend’s head from the spear. Your hands slip with the blood that does not stop. Your tears make it hard to discern anything. Heavy sobs wreck your body and your knees start to buckle. Your friend…you close your eyes and a sharp wet squelch is followed by a new weight in your hands. Your feet stumble back with the sudden force and weight.

You find the nearest unmarred surface and take off your cloak. It is battered with blood and singed with fire in many places. You rest your friend’s head there. With a gentle hand, you close his eyes. As you close yours in a prayer.

“May the halls of Mandos give you peace my friend.” Your prayer is short. You fail to muster any grand words. Your throat hurts making it hard to swallow your sobs as you for the last time on Middle Earth, kiss Rog’s forehead. ‘I too shall follow you soon.’ you promise as you wrap his head.

‘Wait for me here. There is someone else I need to find.’ You whisper to your friend’s dead body as you gather the courage to stand up.

So, you start again. Walking among the simmering fire of burning halls you had dined in. You walk until the Sun finds itself on the Western edge of the world. Darkening skies do not halt you. Blood flowing from your wounds does not stop you.

The sight of an uneven cliff does.

You do not know how you know where he lies but you do. For all the pain in the world seems to have gathered under that one cliff.

Forgoing the last remnants of your armor you feel a weird sense of numbness settle over you. A determination. Your last task on Middle Earth would soon free you. The last labor that you would fulfill even at the cost of denying Mandos.

The journey begins. You do not equip yourself with a torch. You do not need it. It would aid little for the dark that gathered around you. The climb down is easy. With all your sense of reservation gone, there is little to fear of jagged rocks.

Moon is up in the sky by the time you reach the bottom of the cliff. It reeks of blood and ash like the rest of the valley. Your steps don’t falter. For a moment your traitorous mind wonders. It wonders if by some miracle he survived.

But then you find him. And you are struck by the peace on his face. A calm you’ve never seen on the faces of any of the exiled. Moon shines on his golden hair the same way it did when Gondolin had been unstruck. When his smiles were still within the reach of a small joke.

Death was peaceful. It was deceitful. He looked as if he slept in the ways of men. A dream playing behind those closed eyes. But elves do not dream with their eyes closed. They do not sleep in the pool of their blood.

You rush to him. You pause when your hands trying to cradle him feel a softness. A softness you realize to be his brain. Grappled with horror you sit there as you realize the truth. Death was deceiving. For all the peace it held. It also carried pain and so much of it. For once it felt more of a doom than a gift many called it to be.

Your beloved’s glorious golden head was dyed red. Bruises from his fall were now in your clear view. Scorched skin from his battle.

Your chest feels hollow. It would be so much more easier to let go. To succumb to the summons of Mandos right here. You rest Glorfindel’s head in your lap. Your hand trying to caress his face stops. It is bloody. You clean your hands on your tunic as you allow yourself to touch your beloved.

“I’m sorry,” tears form in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you plead but none answer. You do not know what you apologize for but your heart rips into pieces. You have wronged him. Somehow you wronged him. He should not be dead. You shouldn’t have let him die.

His eyes remain closed. None of your apologies bring him back.

Pulling out a solitary flask of water you carry, you wet the torn-off piece of your tunic. And then with light motions clean your lover’s face. You wipe away all the blood, ash, and dirt. You sit there and braid his hair for the last time. For a moment it is easy to fool your heart into thinking of it as an untainted night.

Later in the early hours of the morning, you carry him on your back. All the way to the city, you trek with your lover. Denying death with the steep slope that felt so effortless on the way down. Your own injuries as flaring and your vision swims with each step.

Soon you find yourself crawling with one hand holding on to your beloved as the other holds on to the sharp jutting-out rocks. Scratches turn to blisters which turn into torn skin soon followed by bloodied fingers.

Dark of dawn stretches longer than ever as you struggle with the last of your trek. Your clean hand still holds on Glorfindel on your back. His body is cold. Colder than ever. Your own limbs start feeling an unrelenting chill that seeps into your bones.

“Rog awaits us.” You tell the unresponsive weight on your back. Maybe you were going crazy.

Your knees give away as you finally pull yourself to the top. The city…you made it. A coughing fit racks your body as you struggle to carry Glorfindel to where Rog rests.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The submerged lands of Gondolin hold 16 graves. Tales do not mention them. Few of the living know of them leave for the Vala of death and one elleth.

They are dug by battered hands. A last resting place for the fallen. 16 before death claimed the creator of those graves. A creator whose body lies unsheltered in an unfinished grave.

#tolkein #the silmarillion #gondolin #glorfindel x reader #glorfindel #rog #fall of gondolin #angst #character death #tolkien elves #noldor elves #noldor #Namo #Mandos

43 notes · View notes