#this is a concept from a more extended AU where Daeron shelters in Rivendell sometime mid-Second or early-Third Age

[imakemywings]

“Now where did you get this?” Daeron sniggered as he raised the instrument up for examination. “It is interesting.” Elrond coughed.

            “I, ah, made it myself.”

            Daeron froze, the mandolin still held aloft in mock inspection, with the expression of one who has just realized he is tasting his toes.

            “Well, I can see how much work you put into it,” he said at last, feigning to look the thing over more carefully. “What a very…kind and thoughtful gift.”

            “How bad is it?” Elrond asked ruefully, looking from the mandolin up to Daeron’s face. Wisely conceding he could not believably lie, Daeron said:

            “Instrument-making is a very particular skillset, which requires a great deal of experience. And I am—or have been—rather accustomed to having only the best. Nevertheless. I shall treasure this one as a most generous gesture of your friendship.” And his tone on this was sincere.

            Elrond looked thoughtfully at the mandolin for a moment, and then he said: “I had intended it to be a gesture of something slightly more than friendship.”

            Once more, Daeron froze. His eyes flicked quickly up to Elrond’s, scanning him with seeking intensity.

            “Oh?” was all he said.

            “Only if it would not be troublesome to you,” Elrond added quickly, cautiously. Daeron was having trouble choosing between looking at the mandolin, Elrond, or a spot on the wall behind him.

            “Troublesome?” he echoed, his sweet voice unusually hoarse.

            “Only that, ah, I know you have…had rather a difficult time of things lately, and while I should hope this is less the case now, I know very well that some wounds take a great deal of time to heal, and never would I wish to add to your burdens for my own peace of mind.” Elrond was shuffling his hands amidst his sleeves, a gesture that would go unnoticed by most, but which betrayed anxiety to the observant.

            “I…” Once upon a time, it had been rare indeed for Thingol’s minstrel to be at a loss for words. That was no longer the case, but such total shock was still unusual. “I shall award myself considerable credit for deception,” Daeron said, fingering the strings of the instrument. “If you could believe I would find any…attention of yours burdensome. Or indeed that…” He hesitated, then slowly his eyes rose to once more meet Elrond’s. “That I…have not longed for some time to hear this from you.”

            “Oh,” said Elrond.

            “Shall I play it for you?” Daeron blurted out, holding the mishappen mandolin closer. Elrond laughed.

            “Perhaps we will set that one aside, and you may use something more suitable,” he suggested. When Daeron looked relieved, Elrond only smiled.

#this is a concept from a more extended AU where Daeron shelters in Rivendell sometime mid-Second or early-Third Age #daeron #elrond #daeron x elrond #daeron of doriath #the silmarillion #rocky writes #tolkien tag #I wasn't going to post this but today I stumbled on another homophobic tolkien fan so #enjoy elrond and daeron being gay for each other