#Galadhrim Bow

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Galadhrim Bow by Daniel Correia

#Magic the Gathering #MtG #MtGLTR #Universes Beyond #Lord of the Rings: Adventures in Middle Earth #Middle Earth #Lord of the Rings #LotR #Galadhrim Bow #Elvish #Bow #Arrow #Equipment #Fantasy #Art #Daniel Correia #Wizards of the Coast

[almostlookedhuman]

#universes beyond #mtg #lotr #galadhrim bow #arda #correia

[tathrin]

Ughhhhh hey tumblr, help me finish this sentence?

"Come along, and let's see if that oversized bow of yours is good for anything besides——"

Context: an elf who uses a small bow is making fun of one with a really large one.

#legolas #it's legolas #the elves of mirkwood are teasing him about the bow of the galadhrim after he gets back #(gimli is going to almost have an eomer-and-104-horsemen-moment of his own before he figures out they're just joking around) #lotr #writing help #my writing

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

Tolkien and long hair: what do the books say?

Any time Tolkien describes the length of Elves’ hair, it’s always said to be long:

- Glorfindel: ‘His golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed’ (FOTR - Amroth: ‘The wind was in his flowing hair’ (FOTR) - Celeborn: ‘The hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright’ (FOTR) - Elves even made bowstrings from their hair: ‘A bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair’ (FOTR) - Celegorm: ‘Golden was his long hair’ (The Lays of Beleriand) - The Elves of Valinor: ‘With their gleaming hair in the wind flying’ (The Lays of Beleriand); ‘There blowing free unbraided hair is meshed with beams of Moon and Sun’ (The Lost Road) - The Teleri: ‘With their long hair gleaming like foam’ (Morgoth’s Ring) - Olwë: ‘The hair of Olwë was long and white’ (Morgoth’s Ring) - Thingol: ‘Elwë himself had long and beautiful hair of silver hue’ (The War of the Jewels) - Fingon: ‘He wore his long dark hair in great plaits braided with gold’ (The Shibboleth of Fëanor) - And then there’s this quote which implies that long hair was seen as desirable among the Elves: ‘All the Eldar had beautiful hair (and were especially attracted by hair of exceptional loveliness), but the Noldor were not specially remarkable in this respect, and there is no reference to Finwë as having had hair of exceptional length, abundance, or beauty beyond the measure of his people’ (The Shibboleth of Fëanor)

But it’s not just Elves—Men are also described as having long hair:

- Aragorn: ‘He threw back his hood, showing a shaggy head of dark hair flecked with grey’; ‘His hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing in the wind’ (FOTR) - The Witch-king of Angmar: ‘His hair was long and gleaming’ (FOTR); in an earlier draft of the scene, Tolkien wrote that all the Ringwraiths had long hair: ‘Upon their long grey hair were crowns and helms of pale gold’ - Boromir: ‘They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders’ (TTT) - The Rohirrim: ‘Their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them’; ‘Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?’; ‘Their golden hair was braided on their shoulders’ (TTT) - Eorl the Young: ‘His yellow hair was flying in the wind’ (TTT) - Théoden: ‘His white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids’ (TTT); ‘The hair that flowed beneath his high helm was like snow’ (ROTK) - Men from the South: ‘They have black eyes, and long black hair’; ‘His black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood’ (TTT) - Faramir and Éowyn: ‘And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air’ (ROTK); this would only be possible if Faramir also had long hair - Túrin: ‘For his garb was of the wild woods and his hair was long’ (The Book of Lost Tales)

What about Maiar?

- Gandalf is described as follows: ‘His long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient legend’ (FOTR); ‘His snowy hair flew free in the wind’ (TTT) - Even the Balrog is described as having long hair: ‘Its streaming hair seemed to catch fire, and the sword that it held turned to flame’ (The Return of the Shadow)

Interestingly, I only found a few instances of characters cutting their hair short, and all of them are women:

- Lúthien cuts her hair in The Silmarillion, although it does not say how short, but in The Lays of Beleriand, it says she ‘cut the hair about her ears, and close she cropped it to her head’  - Vána cuts her hair too in The Book of Lost Tales: ‘There follows an account of how Vána...cut short her golden hair and gave it to the Gods, and from her hair they wove sails and ropes’  - In The War of the Ring, Éowyn is described with shorn hair when she goes to war, although this was changed in the final version of ROTK: ‘In the passage that follows, Éowyn’s hair is described as shorn upon her neck’

In conclusion, long hair is clearly the norm in Tolkien’s books. No Elf is ever described as having short hair apart from Lúthien, and no mortal is ever described as having short hair except for Éowyn in the rejected draft. If anyone should have short hair, it’s certain female characters, not male Elves. Fight me!

#tolkien #silmarillion #lotr #my writing #long hair #yes I did in fact do a word search for ''hair'' in a digital copy of LOTR #and looked at all the iterations of it #and then I did a word seach for ''hair'' in a digital copy of all the volumes of HoMe... and there were over 400 mentions #and I looked at all of them #fuck Amazon #and their stupid modern gender-normative aesthetics

[weaselle]

lotr

one thing that i missed in the movies is when they show up in Rohan, and the guard is like “i cannot let you before Theoden King so armed” and in the books when this happens they go over to some guard collecting weapons and they unload, just, a whole pile of weapons, and every time they hand something over to this poor guy they are like

“listen, this is Glamdring the Foe-hammer, forged for Turgon, the Elven King of Gondolin in the First Age of this world. Do not. Lose. This sword.”

or “this is a bow of the Galadhrim, that only the elves of Lothlórien carry, yet I have been given this one by the Lady Galadriel herself, Queen of Lorien and Ring-bearer to Nenya. Not a single scratch better be on this or i swear to god”

it’s been a while since i read the books but i remember being under the impression that the guard was increasingly uncomfortable being suddenly responsible for a bunch of priceless, one of a kind, legendary gear

and then Gimli rolls up like “here, this is, um... my axe.”

[ebaeschnbliah]

'Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell.'

`Drink, Lord of the Galadhrim! And let not your heart be sad though night must follow noon, and already our evening draweth nigh.'

Then she brought the cup to each of the Company, and bade them drink and farewell. But when they had drunk she commanded them to sit again on the grass, and chairs were set for her and for Celeborn. Her maidens stood silent about her, and a while she looked upon her guests. At last she spoke again.

'We have drunk the cup of parting,' she said, `and the shadows fall between us. But before you go, I have brought in my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlórien.' Then she called to each in turn.

`Here is the gift of Celeborn and Galadriel to the leader of your Company,' she said to Aragorn, and she gave him a sheath that had been made to fit his sword. It was overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold, and on it were set in elven runes formed of many gems the name Andúril and the lineage of the sword.

`The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,' she said. `But is there aught else that you desire of me at our parting? For darkness will flow between us, and it may be that we shall not meet again, unless it be far hence upon a road that has no returning.'

And Aragorn answered: 'Lady, you know all my desire, and long held in keeping the only treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would; and only through darkness shall I come to it.'

`Yet maybe this will lighten your heart,' said Galadriel; `for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land.' Then she lifted from her lap a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring. `This stone I gave to Celebrían my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil! '

Then Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered; for they had not marked before how tall and kingly he stood, and it seemed to them that many years of toil had fallen from his shoulders. `For the gifts that you have given me I thank you,' he said, 'O Lady of Lórien of whom were sprung Celebrían and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more? '

The Lady bowed her head.

The gifts for:  

Boromir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Sam: ‘I have brought in my ship gifts’

Gimli: `And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?'  

Frodo: ‘In this phial is caught the light of Eärendil's star.’

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Farewell to Lórien

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #farewell to lórien #jrr tolkien #lothlorien #caras galadhon #farewell #gifts #galadriel #celeborn #aragorn #elessar #elfstone of the house of elendil #movie pics #peter jackson

[arofili]

@khazadweek day seven | folklore & myths | the fates of galadriel’s gift to gimli

          ‘And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?’ said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.           ‘None, Lady,’ answered Gimli. ‘It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.’            ‘Hear all ye Elves!’ she cried to those about her. ‘Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.’            ‘There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,’ said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. ‘Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.’            The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. ‘It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,’ she said; ‘yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?’            ‘Treasure it, Lady,’ he answered, ‘in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.’            Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli’s hand. ‘These words shall go with the gift,’ she said. ‘I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.’

—The Fellowship of the Ring, “Farewell to Lórien”

#khazadweek #tolkienedit #oneringnet #lotredit #lotr #lord of the rings #gimli #galadriel #arien #aglarond #dol amroth #my edit #tefain nin #to find the sun

[emmanuellececchi]

This...

This scene is certainly one of my favorite... There is this long trouble relationship between Dwarves and Elves and, Galadriel with a few words in his own language, then by her kindness, win over Gimli.

---

'And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?’ said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

‘None, Lady,’ answered Gimli. ‘It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.’

‘Hear all ye Elves!’ she cried to those about her. ‘Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.’

‘There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,’ said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. ‘Nothing, unless it might be — unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.’

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. ‘It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues,’ she said; ‘yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?’

‘Treasure it, Lady,’ he answered, ‘in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if I ever return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be a heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.’

Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli’s hand.

#LOTR #Gimli #Galadriel #lord of the rings

[wildwarcat]

I have a request for Haldir x Dunedain!Reader? Reader is invited by Galadriel to study with the Lothlorien healers there and meets Haldir. He visits them every night and takes them on walks around Caras Galadhon and is very sweet to them?

Yes. Yes to this. Also anonymous asks are available again! I will also be taking LOTR requests again now that my schedule has cleared up! Enjoy!

Bathed In Starlight (Haldir x Dúnedain!Reader)

Summary: Though your lack of skill with weapons may have set you apart from the Dúnedain, your thirst for knowledge sets you above the rest, and places you right into the arms of a marchwarden of L��rien.

You were never the best at fighting, this was a plain and simple fact known by all who resided with you in the North. The Dúnedain had no need for someone who could not wield a blade or shoot a bow. So, when the Lady Galadriel called out to you to enter Lothlórien and seek greater knowledge, you could not say no. Taking only your horse and a small dagger with you, you rode southward, having no trouble and holding no sadness in your heart upon your departure from the people who looked at you as lesser than.

When you reached the forest of Lórien, you felt an overwhelming peace fall upon your shoulders, as though you had been welcomed home at last. You knew that the marchwardens guarded the northern border of these woods, so you were not surprised to find yourself surrounded by elves within moments after passing the forest’s threshold. 

“Im tul- bui conn- -o híril Galadriel.” You said flawlessly, holding up a hand as a show of good faith, “Im am Y/N -o i Dúnedain.”

The gray cloaked marchwardens lowered their bows and straightened up as their leader stepped forward and offered a polite smile and an extended hand. 

“Welcome, Y/N of the North. I am Haldir, Lady Galadriel has told me of your arrival. I shall bring you to her.” 

With a nod, you pulled yourself out of your saddle and handed your mount off to a nearby warden, before following Haldir as he began to walk further into the depths of Lothlórien. You walked in silence beside him, every now and then taking a quick glance at him to take in the elf that strode next to you. 

He was, much like the rest of his people, beautiful, with welcoming blue eyes and a gentle smile. You, in fact, found yourself smiling the more you glanced at him. When he finally came to a halt, the small smile upon his face turned to a beam of pride as he nodded in the direction something that sat before you. You were standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a continuing forest that stretched past where your mortal eyes could see, but directly in front of you, no more than a mile away, stood a great city of Mallorn trees, ablaze with white light as if stars lived within its walls. 

“Caras Galadhon, the city of the Galadhrim. Welcome to your new home.” 

You had not even realized you were holding your breath at the sight of the city until you found your lungs screaming for air. Sucking in a sharp breath, you smiled widely. 

“It is even greater than I had expected it to be. The legends do not do justice to its magnificence.” 

Haldir chuckled, a sound that was melodic to your ears, “Perhaps I can show it to you later. There is much that the legends of men do not say about Caras Galadhon.” 

You felt a blush creep up your neck when you glanced over at him and saw that he was in fact staring at you. You cleared your throat and met his gaze slowly. 

“I would like that. I would like that very much.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Galadriel had welcomed you warmly into her realm, and for many weeks you spent your time combing through the vast literature that Caras Galadhon had to offer. You intended to study with the healers of Lórien, but before your work with them began at the start of the new year, you wanted to gather as much knowledge as you could about the hidden kingdom of the elves. 

It was in one of the many great libraries of the city that Haldir found you poring over a stack of leather-bound tomes, your only source of light being that of a pair of candles that were now reduced to stubs after being lit for so long. 

“Mellon nin.” He called out to you softly, making your head snap up in surprise. The look of shock upon your face faded quickly when you saw who it was who called to you. 

“Haldir.” You said with a smile, making the elf’s heart flutter in his chest. In truth, he had kept an eye on you since you arrived in the city and had found himself falling for you ever since then. There was simply something about you that set you apart from the rest of your people. You were not harsh or brash like most mortal men, nor were you one to crave power like so many before you. The only thing you craved was knowledge. 

And that was exactly what he wanted to give to you. 

“Come with me,” He offered, “There is something I wish for you to see.” 

Knowing that whatever the marchwarden had planned would be something spectacular, you closed the books in front of you and snuffed out the stubs of candles before joining him, tossing your forest green cloak over your shoulders and taking the arm he offered you. 

He led you out of the library and into the empty path, the night sky glistening with stars above you. It was standing here, bathed in starlight, that Haldir found your beauty truly unmatched. Not even the Lady Galadriel could compare in his mind. He had had the intention of leading you elsewhere, but instead his feet suddenly found themselves planted, unable and unwilling to move from their place in the starlight. 

“Haldir, are cin okaui?” You asked him, finding that he was only staring at you as he had the day you first stood on the cliff overlooking Caras Galadhon. 

There was no response from him as he continued to stare, his sky blue eyes transfixed upon you. Suddenly, he stepped forward, releasing your arm and cupping your face, pressing his lips to yours without thought. 

For a moment you stood dumbfounded. In truth, you had been harboring feelings for the marchwarden since you had first set foot in Lothlorien, but you had never thought he would feel the same. So, you took advantage of this sudden confession once you regained your bearings, your arms snaking around his neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you returned his kiss. 

When the necessity for air took hold of you both, you at last pulled away, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Was this what you wanted to show me, melleth?” You asked him softly, the lightest of laughs upon your breath. 

“No. But I simply could not resist any longer, galad nin. I have loved you since I first welcomed you here, but could not find the words to express it.” He answered, before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You have no idea how delighted I am to know you feel the same.” 

“As am I, mel nin.” You admitted, your hand slipping from his neck to rest over his heart, “My heart is yours if you will have it.”

“Only if you will have mine.” He said with a smile, his own hand taking its place on top of yours, “Until the end of days.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Im tul- bui conn- -o híril Galadriel. -- I come by order of Lady Galadriel.

Im am Y/N -o i Dúnedain. -- I am Y/N of the Dúnedain.

Mellon nin -- my friend

Haldir, are cin okaui? -- Haldir, are you okay?

Meleth -- love

Galad nin -- my light

Mel nin -- my love

#haldir #haldir x reader #LOTR MOVIES #LOTR fandom #lotr x reader #lotr elves #lothlorien #dunedain #i actually love it #request #lotr elves x reader

[elithilanor]

Imagine being sent to Lothlórien as part of a team of exchange of guard strategies. You an your other guardselves are more than capable however you get ambushed on the road in by a split band of orcs which causes you to separate and lose most of your horses to the pack.

You and your team fight on foot against mounted enemies and while you manage to fell a decent amount, you’re terribly outnumbered. You plant your feet in the ground and raise your head, prepared to die on the battlefield from either a sword or your gut wound currently bleeding steadily when there’s suddenly a pounding of hooves and a platoon of Galadhrim archers break through the forest line, slamming into the wall of orcs.

A hand grabbed the back of your cloak and lifted you onto his horse one-handed.

“Can you still shoot?” The silver-haired Marchwarden asked.

You nod and knock an arrow to your bow.

He smirks down at you and your heart flutters.

“Hold on then.” He mutters as the horse breaks into a run.

#lotr imagine #haldir x reader #haldir imagine #Haldir x you #gn reader #elithilanor

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Plenilune

Haldir x reader - NSFW!

Fun fact: in Tolkien's legendarium the Moon is male since it is guided by a male Maia, Tilion, while the Sun is guided by a female Maia, Arien, and is therefore female.

*****

The murmuring of the wind through the leaves is almost comforting to your ears, as if the forest wished to hearten you against the danger you have deliberately put yourself in for the thirteenth time, as you spur your mare towards your destination galloping among woods and meadows. The moon and the stars illuminate the path enough to keep you and your mare from falling, and no evil that you ought to fear has ever entered Lothlórien; but yes, you are in peril, and you don't even want to think about the consequences if he found out what you are doing.

It is late, you sadly reflect as you cover your head with your hood in the remote case someone sees you, and obviously you cannot help it, since you couldn't leave until he had gone to bed and it would take the fastest horse almost an hour to reach your destination, but still you feel yourself trembling, your heart beating twice as fast as normal with haste, and fear... and another emotion, much more pleasant, that makes you wish you had wings.

A few minutes later, you and your mare have finally reached your destination: the gates of Caras Galadhon are a stone's throw from you, the high trees surrounded by talan standing out, solemn and majestic, against the hilltops behind them. You tie your mare to the trunk of another tree, leaving her to rest after the ride and graze pacefully, and walk towards the gate, your pace slow and your arms spread to show you carry no weapon and are therefore not a danger to the city and its people: you lived here for many years and most of the guards know you, but you know how seriously they take their duty to protect the borders, and it is better for all of you to avoid an incident.

You are now close enough to discern the shapes of the two Elves on duty, both fitted with one of the great bows of the Galadhrim and a quiver full of arrows; one of them softly calls your name.

"Orophin?" you answer in the same tone, not bothering to hide your relief, even more because next to him you have recognized Rúmil, his braided hair easily identifiable in the soft moonlight; after more than a year you must have met most of the guards, who serve on rotation, and none of them has ever tried to forbid you from entering -you are pretty sure they all sympathize with your predicament and are willing to help, even if it means turning a blind eye on your visits, but still, the fact that every single marchwarden is aware of your tryst is more than a little embarassing- but you are happy to be welcomed by the only two Elves in Caras Galadhon who have been personally informed of your visits... and of the reason behind them.

The moon is full; perfect in his circular shape, he shines above you, surrounded by the stars as a lord by his courtiers. You smile as you look at him, and then step across the high gate in white wood and iron that Rúmil has opened for you. "Hannon le" you thank him softly, and he simply smiles in return, while Orophin looks around you anxiously; the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien know you personally and know you pose no danger to their people, but strictly speaking they are failing in their duties letting you in after sundown, since the gates are closed during the night, and the fewer people know you are there, the better.

There is so much at stake for them, for you, and for the one who you know is anxiously waiting for you at his talan; you don't even want to know what would happen if you were discovered, but you persist, month after month, each time the full moon rises in the sky. And one day, soon you hope, your efforts will bear fruit, and you won't have to hide anymore...

"I thought you had decided not to come." Rúmil jokes as he closes the gate, and you wink in response. "Not even if the Valar themselves attempted to stop me."

"Stop wasting time, both of you!" Orophin hisses "The sun will rise in a few hours, and (name) must have left by then; you should go now, and be careful!"

If someone heard you, they could think you are plotting some heinous crime; at first the thought amused you, since the reason that brings you to the city every plenilune goes against no law, but by now, after a whole fruitless year, bitterness has grown inside you, a vague sadness and a sense of helplessness that make it almost impossible to joke about it. You would never give up on your hopes, and you would never renounce him, but sometimes you feel trapped, powerless against the will of the Powers and that of your own body, as if your dearest dream will never come true...

You would never express those doubts in front of your friends, who promised to help you in any way they can and are deliberately failing in their duty to do so; because of this you thank them both and proceed, quickly leaving the gate behind you.

The high Mallorn trees rise up all around you, the sight of the starry sky blocked by the talan built around their trunks; large oil lamps hang from the branches, most of them dark as it is normal during the night, but another lamp is lit, a lamp whose handle is grasped by someone who is waiting at the base of one of the trees, a tree you have reached without hesitation, moving among the maze.

You see him, you see his deep blue eyes in the noble face, a joyful and relieved smile breaking over his lips as he sees you, and it is as if you are finally able to breathe after a month spent struggling for air.

"Haldir..." you murmur, breathless for much more than just the speed of your pace; he almost lets the lamp fall from his hand, and a moment later you have started running towards each other.

*****

You still remembered the day you met Haldir; he was the guard on duty at the gate, you the new handmaiden lady Galadriel had just admitted in her entourage. As he walked you to the main talan, you were immediately struck with his noble beauty, the solemn face with the hint of a smile on his lips; you spent only a few minutes together since he had to return to the gate, but in the following days, when your path crossed as you were both busy with your duties, he never failed to offer you a smile and a nod, as if you were friends. With time, you learnt to appreciate him beyond his loveliness and a quiet friendship had started developing between the two of you, but you never thought he would be interested in you, until leaving your room one day you found a folded piece of parchment waiting in front of the door, under a niphredil flower: Haldir invited you for a walk, that very night; if you accepted, you were meet him at the gate at the end of his shift.

You felt your heart bursting with happiness when, that night, you walked to the gate wearing your favorite dress, your hair brushed until it shone, and the niphredil flower behind your ear; you couldn't wait to be alone with him, and you smiled at Haldir, busy talking to the guard who had come to take over from him. He smiled back, but you didn't notice how perplexed he looked when he saw you.

"Thanks for your message, I couldn't wait for our walk. Shall we?"

"... Yes. Oh course, let us go."

You spent two lovely hours together, walking along a trail in a beech wood just outside the city and sitting next to a stream; you talked, freely as you had never done before, about your families and your dreams, your pasts and your fears. You enjoyed Haldir's company and he appeared to appreciate yours, and for you it didn't matter what would have happened after that day, if that pleasant evening would be the beginning of something special or would remain a single event to think back to wistfully, and in the end, you didn't care: those few hours under a clear blue sky, when you didn't have to worry about duties and responsibilities and were free to be simply yourself, were a treasure in their own right, and whether Haldir's invitation was extended out of friendship or something else, in the end it didn't matter: simply being with him made you happy.

In the end it was only when Haldir insisted on walking you to your room, that he confessed the truth - simply because he felt he had to, being too fair and honest to take advantage of a scam, even though it hadn't been his fault.

"I must admit... I never invited you on a walk; the message that you received was probably sent by my brothers." he confessed, too ashamed to look you in the eyes, his long hair barely covering the flush that had spread on his fair face. He told you that Rúmil and Orophin, who you knew well and had noticed him staring longingly at you, had tried to convince him to approach you. Haldir had refused, both because he was sure you wouldn't be interested and simply because he would have rather faced Melkor than tell you about his feelings, and in the end his brothers must have decided to take the matter in their own hands.

"You are lucky to have brothers who care so much about your happiness." you said, your back pressed against the trunk of the tree, the talan you shared with two other of the Lady's maidens high above you; the night was falling on Caras Galadhon, a gentle breeze caressing your hair and dress. You would have flushed, and even perhaps run away in embarrassment, but apparently Rúmil and Orophin's intervention was due to their brother's indecision, not to his lack of interest, and because of this you stayed where you were, ready to reassure him that you were happy to have spent the evening with him nonetheless... and that if he wanted to invite you again, you wouldn't have said no.

"You think? At the moment I sincerely wish my parents had stopped after having me. Please don't misinterpret, I am very happy you came and I couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening; but they shouldn't have meddled."

You almost asked him if he would have ever confessed his feelings for you, had his brothers not intervened, but in the end, what difference would it have made? Despite everything, you were grateful to Rúmil and Orophin for what they had done, but now, and from now on, the two of you would have walked at your own pace.

"I am supposed to wait on the lady Galadriel at the banquet tonight." you said in the end "Shall we have dinner together before that? If you have nothing more important to do."

Relief was clear on Haldir's fair face as he answered that no, of course not, nothing on all of Arda would have been more important than spending more time with you. Expressing his feelings didn't come natural to him, at least not before he had spent some, or a long, time with someone, which could have made the other person -namely, you- interpret that reticence as indifference, even disregard, but you didn't; you were still learning to know each other, and as any other couple you would have your misunderstandings and disagreements, but in that moment at least everything was perfect, as if you just needed to share a look to understand what you were feeling. You cared about each other, more that you could express, and that was enough.

It was beautiful, and it made you happy.

"May I take your hand?" he asked, and the question was deeper than it appeared, since friends didn't walk holding hands, but a couple who was courting did; he seemed uncertain, even shy - quite a difference from the steadfast, capable soldier you had learnt to know. That sight filled your heart with affection... and an answer you couldn't have given to him faster.

"Of course. I would love to."

You let him take your hand, you took his, and since then neither of you has ever let go.

*****

Neither of you speaks as you climb the slim rope-ladder to reach the talan Haldir shares with his brothers, identical to the many others where the guards live, in groups of two or three; wooden screens, carved in shapes of trees and animals, separate the communal area from the smaller ones reserved to each of them. As soon as the door of the large chamber, built all around the tree trunk, closes behind you, Haldir takes your hands once more, brings them to his lips, and kisses them devotedly. "You came." he murmurs, his eyes full of affection and relief; he knows your feelings, he knows that you will never give up on him and nothing, not even Melkor himself, could forbid you to go to him on a full moon night, but you know that every time he fears he will never see you again, and you will never have the family you both wish for.

He is so afraid, your Haldir, but so gentle and reverent as he holds you against him, his hand caressing your hair as you rest your cheek on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. He doesn't ask whether someone saw you, after you passed the city's gate, along the way or, worst of all, as you left your village; he knows you are as careful as you can be to slip away unnoticed and to ride along hidden paths, but you both know the risk, and accept it, because being together once more, one more night, even just one more hour, is worth the most dire consequences.

"I am sorry, I am late." you tell him in the end, after you part just enough to look at each other; so many years after you have shared your first kiss he is more handsome than ever, so handsome you feel yourself shivering as his warm hands find your shoulders under your cape and run along your naked arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them. He is wearing a grey tunic with a brown leather belt, his long hair spread on his shoulder and chest; many Silvan Elves have blonde hair, but no one's is as beautiful as his, and sometimes, as you lie next to each other, your passion dormant but not forgotten, you like to play with it, braiding and running your hair through it, or rubbing it against your skin.

Maybe you will do it once more, tonight; before you have will to go.

"I had to stay until he went to bed, and he had some friends visiting, so..."

"It it all right, don't concern yourself." he reassures you, and you love him for it, because every moment you lose during those nights is a wasted opportunity, a loss you could pay dearly if you were discovered, but still he cannot stand to see you upset "I am just glad you came. Eru... you are so beautiful..."

"You have seen me wear this dress at least ten times."

"True, but I wasn't talking about the dress. My darling, my beloved flower... how I have missed you..."

Maybe the distance plays a part in it, as well as the fact that you haven't laid together often, even through you have been courting for years, or maybe not; maybe it is just that you love him desperately, with all your heart and your mind, your fëa and your hröa harmonius in desiring him, the warmth of his body, the soothing sensation of his embrace. No one could ever call you naive, and after a year you know your beloved's skin as well as yours, but, and maybe because of this, your heart is pounding in your chest as you offer Haldir your mouth, that he claims in a kiss as he holds your face in his hands.

You kiss avidly for a while, your hands moving from Haldir's strong shoulders to his back and chest to caress and stimulate and revere; he moans in your mouth, the sound lurid and heavenly at the same time, as he takes off your cape and let it fall on the floor - which betrays the state he is in, since he would never leave something, especially clothes, lying around instead of finding an appropriate place for them, tidy and even fastidious as he is. Evidently you really have an effect on him, you think pleased, so much that you make him forget himself...

"Why are you smiling as we kiss?" he asks, feigning a contrariness he is physically unable to feel; a moment later his kisses move to your neck, and the goosebumps are no longer limited to your arms.

"I am simply -oh yes, right there!- happy we are together, that is all."

"I am happy as well, my flower. And I wish... we didn't have to wait the full moon..."

You would like to jest that the moon is a capricious master, who only allows you to meet once every twenty-eight nights, and you should ask him to assume his most complete form more often, but you can't; you cannot joke about it, not anymore. This night coincides with the most fertile moment of your cycle, and this is why you have chosen it to meet; often enough to give you a realistic opportunity, as well as to alleviate the pain of your separation, but at the same time your visits to Haldir would be sufficently sporadic not to arouse suspicion - you hope. It is not much, but you make do. It seemed a good compromise when you decided on it, since you make the most of your time together, clinging to each other until you are both panting breathless, and you thought you would have achieved your goal by now.

You haven't.

You often feel as if time itself works against you, but nonetheless you take your time, savoring the intimacy and the joy of being together once more before you can taste each other's flesh. Haldir's hand has guided you behind the wooden screen that separates his area of the room from those of his brothers'. Rúmil and Orophin are on duty until dawn, and since they both respect your privacy they would never interrupt you in any case, but your beloved doesn't feel at ease laying with you if you are not as hidden as you can be: he is such a modest, demure person, and you love him for it... as well as for everything else.

"How I have missed you..." you murmur as you once more find your beloved's mouth with yours; he moans into it, his hands moving hungry and greedy on your body as those of a sculptor molding a block of clay, and this is exactly how you feel, as if you are nothing, raw, shapeless, aimless, if you are not close to him, able to touch and be touched.

Neither of you speak as your clothes start falling to the floor. You free Haldir of his tunic, and his skin is like marble in the semi-darkness around you, smooth and cool and made for you to touch and caress; he moans, his head bent backwards, as you hold his hips in your hands and fill the distance between the two of you to kiss his neck, his chest, and his stomach. You feel, as well as hear, the rumble of pleasure escaping his lips as you close yours around his right nipple, licking and sucking as you stimulate the other one with your fingertips. You love Haldir like you have never loved anything and anyone, you love his kindness and his intelligence, his sense of duty and his wit; you love his stubborness and his rigidity and melancholy. And you love his body -strong, agile, so deliciously masculine, a source of warmth and pleasure and life; you cling to it, exploring and stimulating it until he is moaning and whispering your name and his desire is presses against your belly, hard and warm.

"Please." he begs; Eru, how you love hearing him like that "Please, my darling, let me have you..."

You don't answer, but you smile, and you break the kiss to turn and offer him your back; Haldir's agile fingers make quick works of the knots of your dress, and soon the cloth is sliding down your body, and you are naked under it, no shift or undergarments, because you have so little time to spend together and you don't want to waste it taking off your drawers.

That, and he tore your favourite shift six months ago, in his haste to take it off you; mortified, he apologized and promised to replace it, you simply told him he would have to make your loss worth it.

There is awe on his face, as well as desire, as he admires you, his fingertips barely brushing against you but leaving a trail of fire behind them. "Come." he invites you taking your hand once more, and his bed -the only element present in the small area behind the screen, apart from a chest and a chair- is only three steps away, but you like being led, being welcomed to it just like he has opened his heart to you.

You have already started kissing as you lower yourself on the bed, Haldir's arms keeping you close enough that you can feel his heartbeat matching yours, your hands fiddling with his belt; you brush your hand against his hardness, and your beloved has the audacity to snigger.

"Have patience, my love; it is yours, you know it, and you can have it any time you want."

You pout. "I want it now, Haldir..." you tell him, and he kisses you once more, and tells you to "Take it, then."

Getting undressed while one is laying is not easy, but finally your beloved is as naked as you are, his fair skin pressed against yours; you take his hardness in your hands as he moans, fondling and kissing it, and in the end he asks you to stop, because it is not on your hands that he wants to spill. You let him push you on your back, and a moment later Haldir's strong body is above you, his golden hair spilling all around him; you pass your fingers through it, mesmerized, and you brush them against your breasts, and there is something so alluring, so enticing in that sight, that when your eyes met his, you know that his desire has taken over - he cannot think clearly, he has forgotten everything that is not you, and what you share, and what he will feel once he is inside you. He is the most rigorous and even-tempered person you know, devoted to his duties and able to keep his composure in times of danger and hardship, but when he is with you... especially like this... it is as if another Elf takes his place, an Elf who would be ready to forget his responsiblities and his honour for the opportunity to lay between your thighs, once more.

It is beautiful, and terrifying; and it should be a source of pride for you, but instead it humbles you, and fills your heart with awe, because you feel the same. Haldir is your intended, your future husband, your lover, your best friend, and one day he will be the father of your children; you promised him, and you promised yourself, and you will do whatever you need to make that dream come true.

You have opened your legs for him, Haldir's fingers gently caressing them as you cross your ankles on his back, giving him full access; you have surrended yourself, offering your body and your soul and your love to the one you know deserve them and will always cherish them, and that is why you don't feel it as a loss. You moan as he lowers his mouth to suck on the side of your neck, murmuring your name as he would with that of Varda, and you groan when his fingers brush against your mound, eliciting a jolt of pleasure through your body. Please, you tell him, and you don't know whether you are actually articulating the words or just thinking them, your moans and sighs betraying your desires, please take me, I need it now, I need you...

And a moment later you have him, fully and perfectly like so many times before. You are clinging to his shoulders, his name blossoming again and again on your lips as a litany, as a prayer, as the sinuous movement of his hips makes stars explode behind your eyelids. He moans your name, fierce and greedy and so loving, and you could almost cry with emotion, were you not too busy simply feeling, and you love all of it - his love, his passion, his reverence, the promise you have shared years ago and that you renew every time, without the need for words.

The fire is burning inside and all around you; and it is the kind of flames you are happy to be consumed by.

*****

It is all your father's fault.

It is not nice to say, but it is true. Your current predicament, the need for secrecy and to meet on full moon nights, everything is due to the fact that your father didn't approve of Haldir as your intended, and he explicitly stated that he would never give his consent for you to marry. Not because he dislikes Haldir, or because he considers your beloved unable to take care of you and make you happy; the reason is way more personal.

Your father and his dearest friend have always planned to have their children marry, so as to unite their families in one. As fate would have it, your father's friend has a son who is exactly the same age as you -was it deliberate, a pact that they made and that also involved their wives? Two years ago you would have considered it absurd, but now you would not put it past him- which, in the two fathers' opinion, made things easier and ensured the continuation of both of their lineages.

You knew the pact with his friend was important for your father; you just hadn't realized the lenghts he would go to see his dream come true. His friend lived too far away to make frequent visits possible, and the few times you had met, his son seemed nice enough, a good company for a walk or to sit next to at dinner; you never talked about your fathers' plans, simply trying not to bore each other. Marriage prospects were the last thing on your mind, at least until you moved to Caras Galadhon to serve lady Galadriel, you met Haldir, and he stole your heart.

You never thought your father would oppose your relationship with Haldir; you only mentioned him in your letters as a friend, since you didn't want him and your mother to come and make sure his intentions were pure and serious -they were, obviously; but you didn't want your beloved to feel he had to prove himself- but you were sure that when they got to meet him, they would love him, just like you did.

They didn't. Well, he didn't; when you, radiant with joy, returned home with Haldir to introduce him to your parents and announce you were engaged, your mother was ready to welcome your beloved in the family within ten minutes after meeting him; your father, unfortunately, was a whole different matter.

"What? Surely you are joking. You cannot pledge to marry him; you are already engaged and you know it. I was going to write you about it next month: my friend and I decided it is time for the two of you to wed. His son was going to move with you in Caras Galadhon, but since I don't want you to be... distracted by your friend here, you better leave the service of the Lady and go live with him in his village. Now, do not argue with me; I am your father and I know what is best for you."

He clearly didn't, but try as you might you couldn't change his mind, or convince him to relent. Your father was determined to get his own way, no matter how much you cried -and it was a lot, so much that it filled you with shame, particularly because it was all in vain- argued, locked yourself up in your room and threatened to hurt yourself; he had decided to have you marry the son of his friend, and that he would do, even if it meant forbidding you to leave home until you relented. Poor Haldir had to return home alone, because your father forbade you to return even just to say goodbye to your friends; he was too honourable to challenge your father's authority under his roof, or to kidnap you from your home, and your mother begged you to obey your father as a good daughter should. You grudgingly did... but still, you were determined to marry your beloved, whatever the price.

Your only real ally in the family was your sister, who sympathized with your and your beloved's plight and promised to help; in front of your father she feigned disinterest in the whole matter, so as not to arouse suspicion, but secretly she was the one who sent your letters to Haldir and received his for you, pretending to be corrisponding with her friends in other villages.

Deciding what to do was painful, and at the same time surprisingly easy. You dearly loved your father, and since you were little you had only wanted to make him proud; likewise, Haldir respected him and only wanted to be accepted in your family. But since all your hopes had been dashed, you were only allowed to leave your home if escorted by one of your parents and he was struck in Caras Galadhon, there was only one thing you could do.

Elven marriages are usually conducted in front of families and friends, and include the exchange of rings and a blessing imposed by each pair of parents on their new child-in-law. On the other hand, your people's oldest tradition has it that the union of the bodies symbolizes the union of the soul, and that the birth of a child is enough to consider a couple married on a factual, and as a consequence formal, prospective, just as the first Elves who awoke at Cuiviénen wed each other. So, you agreed as the letters were sent and received between the city and your village, this is what you would do; you would get pregnant, and then your father would be forced to recognize your relationship, for the sake of his grandchild if not for yours... and because at that point his friend would hardly accept you in his family. And if your father decides to repudiate you, throwing you in the streets and forbidding you from ever returning... you will accept it. It would break your heart, because you love him, and your mother, and you never wished to cause a rift between you, but Haldir is the husband you have chosen, the other and the better part of you, and you are willing to sacrifice it all to be with him. You knew Lady Galadriel would welcome you back among her maidens, not caring about the shame you would have brought to your family, and you and your beloved would then marry and move to a talan of your own.

It would be a nice life; a perfect life, with your husband and the first of the many children you had already planned on having. And it will be, one day, hopefully soon. It was exactly thirteen moon cycles ago that, once more with the help of your sister, you ran away during the full moon to visit Haldir in Caras Galadhon, and even though this is supposed to be your most fertile period and you make at least two attempt per night his seed still hasn't taken root in your womb. You are sure, since it is known that Elf women are able to perceive a pregnancy as soon as it begins, the first tiny sparkle of life inside them making itself known not by voice or movement, but with a peculiar sensation that nothing else in Arda can compare with; a new entity making itself known to the world, too small and young to have a gender and an appearance and a personality, but that exists... and that would be enough to change your life forever.

You and your beloved are waiting for it; dreaming it; praying for it, even, although until now your efforts have been in vain. Laying with Haldir is lovely, passionate and sweet, and you would be more than happy to keep doing it every single night until the end of the world; to share his bed has allowed the two of you to reach a new level of intimacy, to experience each other as you had never done before. It is not that you love Haldir more now that you know the pleasure his body can give yours; you have found a new way to love him, in addition to those you already knew, which is different, and more precious. For him, you know, it is the same; he awaits your visits with trepidation, already happy and excited and looking forward for when you will be unclothed, in his arms, and moaning with his flesh in yours, but you know that he would be equally satisfied if you spent those nights walking in the woods, or sitting in front of the fire talking and exchanging stories.

You would never say that for more than a year you have wasted your time, especially since these are the only moments you are able to spend together, and you miss your beloved so much; but still... why haven't you gotten pregnant already?

*****

You sigh, happy and satisfied, as you turn on your back, sharing a smile with Haldir, panting by your side. "It was... it was absolutely..." you begin, but the words fail you, because even after a whole year, you cannot describe exactly how you feel, how he makes you feel, the joy and the pleasure you experience and that you know no one else could ever give you, because no one is like him, no one is him, and you are blessed to have met him, and earned his love.

"It was." Haldir agrees, as he once more takes you in his arms to hold you close; he kisses your brow "And it always will be, I promise."

You should leave soon, since you need to be at home before your parents awake and notice you are gone -and unfortunately your father is the earliest riser you know!- and you both know it, but you don't move, your cheek resting on Haldir's chest as his fingers gently run through your hair. You don't need to be as close as the two of you are to know the same thought is filling both of your minds, the same thought that has tormented you for a whole year now...

"Do you feel... something?" Haldir hesitantly asks in the end, and you sigh; he doesn't blame you, and the guilt and the disappointment weighting on your heart are probably even worse than what he feels, but still, in that moment, despite all the joy and the pleasure still warming your body, you feel so ashamed you cannot even look him in the eyes. You don't know exactly what you are waiting for since you have never been pregnant before, how it will feel to know that you have conceived, but of one thing you are sure: that right now, satisfied and happy and aching in the most pleasant way as you are, you feel exactly as before, exactly as you did at the end of the previous twelve attempts: empty.

You have failed. Again.

A sob escapes your lips, a sob that Haldir is too close not to hear, but you still try to hide your face against his shoulder. "I am sorry. Haldir, forgive me, I don't know what I am doing wrong..."

"No, no... It is not..."

"I started drinking a tea that is supposed to render a maiden more fertile, it tastes disgusting but I drink it every day, I swear, I don't know what else..."

There is no accusation or resentment in your beloved's bright blue eyes, only understanding and sadness, and that is enough to make you feel the worst Elf on Arda, undeserving of his love, undeserving of the joy of motherhood.

"Maybe the fault is mine." Haldir whispers in the end, his hand on your cheek "I know these things require time, and we have only one night every moon cycle to try, but if I were able to... if I had to rest less... maybe three times is not enough..."

"My darling, you have to rise at dawn to go on patrol; you need rest. What we do cannot hinder your duties as marchwarden."

"I know, I know..."

He looks so dejected, so guilty and disheartened, that you find yourself forgetting your sadness to try and alleviate his.

"Listen to me; we have no reason to feel guilty, since we are doing everything we can; as you said, it takes time to conceive a child, and we cannot let disappointment and bitterness make us forget how lucky we are. We love each other, and we are together, albeit just for a few hours; just for that, I am grateful."

"If we had a child, though, we could be together without having to hide." Haldir points out; but then he smiles "But you are right; we will keep trying for as long as we need to, and in the meantime we will enjoy the time we can spend together. I cannot wait to give you a child, to raise a family together... but I just need to be with you, and to know that you are mine, to be happy."

"I am, Haldir; and I always will be, I promise."

In the end you are forced to leave your beloved's bed and get dressed; Haldir needs all the rest he can get, but as always he rises with you to walk you to the gate. You don't talk as you leave the talan behind you, your hand in his, the quiet murmuring of the night holding you in a gentle embrace. You love moments like this, when words are not needed, a simple moment is a treasure, and every little gesture speaks about you. You would stay here for hours, just enjoying your beloved's company and the beauty of the night, but the full moon has already started his descend towards the horizon: it is time to go.

Rúmil and Orophin look at you expectantly as you reach the gate, but they are quick to pretend to be otherwise occupied when they notice the lack of joy and relief on your faces. You smile, and

"We will try once more." you tell them, as Haldir kisses your temple.

"We will try for as long as we need to."

You and your beloved say your goodbyes with a long hug, and a last kiss. "Be safe." he tells you, and you nod, too busy committing his face, his scent, the feel of his arms around you, to memory, to talk. A minute later you have passed the gate, alone once more but not lonely, disappointed but not sad; you had a night with him, and you will have another on the next full moon, and that is enough.

You wave your hand in farewell, and he responds in kind, before stepping away and letting the darkness of the night surround you.

TAGGING @starlady66 and @elvenenby. Hope you like this!

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers #Haldir of Lorien #Haldir #Craig Parker #Bellona's stuff

[tathrin]

6... on a falling tear and 38... because they're running out of time （＾ω＾）

Oh how lovely and tragic, very nice choices! Thank you very much for the ask. I'll split them up into two separate posts because I'm incapable of ever writing anything succinct though, sigh! Prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox lmao).

#38....because they’re running out of time. [mood music anyone?]

“Never thought I’d die as a diversion,” Gimli muttered, watching as Sauron’s army poured out of the Black Gates and surrounded the two small hills on which Aragorn had arrayed their forces.

Gimli could not count the teeming numbers of the enemy that stood before him—they were too many, too foul—but Legolas had the keen eyes of the elves, and he had told Gimli that their force of six thousand was outnumbered at least ten-to-one. They were not all orcs, either, which would have been bad enough; for surely each troll should be counted six or seven times at least.

The hills would help, Gimli thought numbly, at least a little; the incline would grant the defenders an advantage over the enemy that would have to scramble to climb up at them, and the slag pools of fetid Mordor that surrounded the low hillocks would be another impediment—but it would not be enough.

They had known it would not be enough even before they set out for the Black Gates, and they had all of them come anyway. Gimli did not regret his choice to follow his friends into doom, no; but that did not make the moment of the end any less bitter. And that moment was almost here, now; they were running out of time.

The enemy paused at the feet of the hills, hissing and cursing and some of them even spitting, and Gimli spun his axe to stretch his shoulders in anticipation of the battle to come.

He stood near the front, with Aragorn and Legolas and most of the mightiest of their fighters, where the attack would surely be the thickest. He eyed one lumbering troll that was pushing its way through the milling ranks of orcs, an ugly line of drool hanging off one side of its jaw where broken teeth distorted its already ugly grin into something macabre and ghoulish.

“Gimli,” Legolas said, standing so close beside him, his voice light with echoes of distant birdsong, and Gimli could feel himself smiling in instinctive response even as his heart twisted in sorrow at the thought of what was soon to come for them both. “Gimli,” Legolas said, “may I—I would ask a very great favor of you, my friend, if you would indulge me, please.”

“Of course,” Gimli said immediately. He turned to look up at the elf beside him, standing like a slender ray of sunlight in that bleak land, and tried to hide his breaking heart behind his smile. He could not imagine what sort of favor Legolas might ask at this late juncture—or if he could, then it was a favor that need not be spoken aloud, for Gimli had already vowed to himself that he would not allow the enemy to take this elf alive for torment when the battle ended and their defeat enfolded them.

“Anything, Legolas, you know that.”

Legolas gave a strange, half-choked laugh, and pressed his free hand to his face as though smother some strong feeling; with his other, of course, he held the mighty bow of the Galadhrim that the Lady had given him, and Gimli’s heart gave another pang at the thought of three golden strands tucked away safely behind white walls far away, waiting for a dwarf who would never return to reclaim them—but then Legolas moved, and Gimli’s eyes were drawn instead to tight golden braids that swayed before him as the slender Wood-elf suddenly swayed like a falling sapling and bent down close to Gimli’s face.

He caught Gimli’s bearded cheek with his hand and turned the dwarf’s face up to meet him, and then—oh, and then Legolas was kissing him and Gimli’s mind seemed to dissolve in a blaze of starlight. His whole world narrowed down to those smooth lips pressed so tight and hungry to his own; those long fingers twined so gently through his beard to cup his chin in their narrow palm; the brush of heavy golden braids against Gimli’s shoulders as Legolas bent low over him...

Belatedly, Gimli realized that he had reached up to press his hand to the elf’s face as well; he only noticed when the pad of his thumb brushed against the tip of one long pointed ear and Legolas’s breath hitched in both their mouths.

The drew apart, Legolas swaying back upright with a last lingering flutter of his fingers against Gimli’s beard before he pulled away. Gimli’s jaw worked soundlessly around words that would not come,his wide eyes fixed so fervently on the beautiful, beardless face before him that he almost forgot the stink of the orcs and the jeers of their ugly voices in his ears.

“Forgive me the liberty, I pray,” Legolas rasped. His mithril-bright eyes shimmered with unshed tears, in that moment looking suddenly so like the pool of the Mirrormere that Gimli almost felt as though he had been transported somehow back to the hills outside Khazad-dûm, and this desperate death at the doors of Mordor made into naught but a terrible dream.

But the creeping tendrils of fear that marked the approach of the Nazgûl was no dream; nor were the thundering steps of the trolls as they began to scale the hills, nor the shouts of the orcs as they struggled to follow. In moments, the enemy would be upon them. There was so much Gimli wanted, needed, to say; but they were running out of time.

“There is—there is nothing to forgive, Legolas,” he managed to croak.

“I am relieved to hear it,” Legolas replied. “For I could not bear to die without ever kissing you, Gimli.”

Gimli reached up for those golden braids and bright eyes again. “Legolas—!”

Legolas flashed him a brief, bright, heartbroken smile, and then turned away to face the enemy as the orcs rushed towards them. Gimli raised his axe more out of habit than intention and stepped up beside the elf. “Legolas...” he tried again, but his head was reeling and he could not find the words he wished to craft; they all slipped through his mental fingers, like he was trying to scoop cave-cold water with naught but his bare hands.

Then the first troll reached them, bellowing as it knocked three soldiers of Gondor off their feet to tumble down the hill towards the waiting blades of the orcs below. Gimli growled and gripped his axe, and then suddenly Legolas was scaling the troll, blasted fool of an elf that he was!

“Legolas!” Gimli shouted again, and raced to follow him into the fight.

The troll was too slow to catch the nimble elf, but its attempts to do so blunted its attention to the axe in Gimli’s hand as he hacked at its knees. The creature roared belatedly in anger, even as thick blood wept down its legs. It reached down to try and swat Gimli away, and Legolas scampered across its shoulders and drove his long knife in deep into the troll’s eye. Even that was not enough to kill the beast, but when two Rohirrim came up with long spears the troll was too woozy with pain and blood-loss to bat the weapons away from its throat.

It went down with a thud and a cry of rage rose from the orcs in response. Legolas skipped away from the body and landed on the ground again at Gimli’s side. Shaking with fear, anger, and adrenaline, Gimli caught him by the wrist and gave the elf a shake. “Don’t do that again!” he shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Legolas laughed, fey and unfettered, his merriment as sharp and keen as his arrows. He slashed his knife through the throat of a climbing orc and twisted easily away from the resulting spray of black blood. “Gimli, we are all going to die here,” he said, wiping the blade clean on the skirt of his tunic before sheathing it and drawing his bow once more. “Put aside your fears, my dear; we have moved beyond that now. All that is left to us is to make our deaths worthy of those that came before us, and to sell our lives dearly enough that we might hope to buy enough time for others to save all those who may come after from this Shadow.”

His arrows flew true, burying themselves in throats and eyes and black-blooded hearts even as he looked back at the dwarf more often than he did at the oncoming orcs. In Legolas’s eyes, Gimli could see the glimmer of all the years together they would never have; could see the crumbling eternity of an immortal life cut short and the unscalable chasm that lay forever between the fates of elves and dwarves, sundering them from one another for all time even unto the breaking of the world.

This, he realized, was all the time they were ever going to have.

Tears stung his eyes, hot and bitter. It was not enough. It would never, ever be enough—and it did not matter, because there was no more to be had.

Gimli shook his head, swallowing down the urge to weep; he had to focus on the orcs. There were too many coming up the sides of the hill now, too fierce; it was all Gimli could do to swing his axe in time to block their blows and cut them down. It was all he could do to keep close to Legolas’s side, the elf now reduced to fighting with nothing but his long white knife. There were maybe half a handful of arrows in his quiver yet, but even elvish speed was insufficient to allow for proper archery at sight a tight distance in this tumult.

Oh, why had Gimli not seen to it that his elf was better armed before they rode off to this final battle? Legolas was deadly with that little knife, yes, but oh it seemed so short in his long fingers. Why had Gimli not sought the armories of Gondor, and borrowed some mightier blade for his friend? Why had he not sought the forges, and made him one to suit his lanky frame?

He was such a fool. What had he been wasting his time on instead, when he could have—should have—been seeing to Legolas’s safety?

When he could have been kissing him?

Gimli growled, and swung his axe harder, and watched one burly uruk go down gurgling and clutching at its guts. Gimli swung again, and its head toppled free and he could turn to the next enemy, the next threat. Beside him, Legolas whirled and slashed in a flurry of golden braids and a black-blooded blade. He lunged over Gimli’s head to slit the throat of an orc that was angling a spear towards Gimli’s ribs as Gimli kicked-out low and took the feet out from under another orc that had managed to get a grimy hand around one of those bright braids.

“Away from him!” Gimli bellowed, and the orc feel back squealing over the stump of its arm. Gimli stepped closer to the elf—his elf—and they ended up fighting back-to-back, or back-to-shoulders at least; their disparate heights should have made them terrible battle-partners, but it was so easy to fall into a rhythm with Legolas, a balancing of their skills and statures. Legolas spun high with his short knife and Gimli swung low with his broad axe, and the enemy gave way before them.

But more came, replacing those that fell. Always more came, and the fight went on. Gimli could feel his limbs tiring, his bones aching from the weight of his blade and the blows that had glanced off his mail. A dozen small cuts he could not remember taking bled sluggishly, adding a dull sheen of red to the viscous black liquid that splattered his armor and his skin.

More came, and the Nazgûl followed, and all around them men shrieked and cowered beneath that mindless fear. Gimli fought on, so numb with grief that he barely startled at the cry that the eagles had come. That felt unreal, like something out of some other story; one that had a better ending than theirs. Despair rolled thick across the Host of the West and even Gimli, stout-hearted dwarf that he was, faltered for a moment before it—

And then Legolas laughed.

There was nothing merry in that sound, and the only brightness was the sharp brightness of a pale blade flashing out of the shadows of tall black trees. It was a laugh full of teeth, and claws, and all the dark and dangerous things that lurk within a wood. It was the sort of laugh that would send wise folk fleeing for strong walls and sturdy doors; the sort of laugh that might send children shivering to hide under their beds and wait for dawn. It was the laugh of a wild thing, untamed and dangerous, and it rang out light and sharp-edged above the gutteral shouts and screams of the orcs and the roaring bellows of the trolls.

Legolas laughed, and Gimli smiled to hear it. He lifted his head high against the weight of Mordor’s bleak despair and raised his axe high once more. Legolas was right; there was no longer any cause for fear. They had faced the end already, and the end was here; there was no sense cowering before it. Better to stand tall, and die fighting proud and unbowed, defying the power of the Dark Lord to the last.

And then—and then, on the other side of fear, after all hope seemed so long lost it was little more than a memory, everything changed.

The Nazguûl fled; the army crumbled; the towers fell.

Sauron was destroyed. And they had lived.

They lived.

Gimli could hardly process it. He turned to Legolas, still at his side, the both of them weary and blood-stained and heartsick from the tangled mingling of hope and despair, and he opened his mouth to speak—but no words came out.

He saw all their tomorrows flow suddenly back into Legolas’s bright eyes and the elf swayed, as though the sudden lifting of the Shadow had left him unsteady on his light feet. Gimli caught his hand and held him steady.

“Legolas—” Gimli began.

“Tomorrow,” Legolas interrupted him with a smile. “Let us help the wounded now, Gimli; we will talk on other things tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Gimli said, rolling the taste of the word around in his mouth; rolling the feel of it around in his mind. “Yes,” he said. “Tomorrow. To think that there will be such a thing!” He laughed from bewildered joy and squeezed his elf’s hand once, tightly, before letting go and turning back to the grim battlefield. “Tomorrow. We will talk on all things then.”

Legolas bent and pressed a light kiss to Gimli’s cheek. “Tomorrow,” he said again, the word heavy with promise, and then they walked off together into the carnage of hopes renewed and deaths well-fought.

“Tomorrow,” Gimli murmured once more to himself, and there on the bloodstained soil of the Black Land, he smiled.

#well that one uh...that one kind of got away from me didn't it? #yeah this was kind of supposed to end by paragraph nineteen #and then it...didn't #so have uhhh have the whole final battle of the war of the ring i guess??? #sorry not sorry??? idk #thank you so much for picking this one to send; writing it sure sent me! jeeze! #these two i swear #even knowing that they win in the end my brain still wouldn't let me end their story on anything but an upbeat note i guess #i will never ever be over them #battle of the morannon #gimleaf #gigolas #legolas #gimli #lotr #lotr fanfiction #my stuff #my writing #asks meme #send a kiss meme #this ship sails itself all the way to valinor

[valkariel]

Galadhrim v.2

» New Shots of Galadhrim «

Updated colors and replaced boots.

Head: YoRHa Type-51 Hood of Aiming - snow white Body: Panthean Mail of Aiming - default Hands: Augmented Torrent Armguards of Aiming - bone white Legs: Far Eastern Beauty's Koshita - bone white Feet: Ishgardian Thighboots - default

Earring: The Emperor's New Earrings Neck: The Emperor's New Necklace Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: The Emperor's New Ring Left Ring: The Emperor's New Ring

Main Hand: Bow of the Wanderer - pearl white Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: -- Location: Elpis - The Twelve Wonders (Fair Skies, sunrise)

Shader: Faeberry Bloom

#ffxiv #ffxiv glamour #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv bard #eorzea collection #glamour reshoot #au ra #raen #bard #ranged #golds/yellows #lights/whites/pastels #uses mogstation items #no seasonal items #battle glamour #fantasy glamour #cosplay glamour #valkariel ilmarë

[niphredils]

Do not repent of your welcome to the Dwarf. If our folk had been exiled long and far from Lothlórien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass nigh and would not wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of dragons?

'Dark is the water of Kheled-zâram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-nâla, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dûm in Elder Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone.' She looked upon Gimli, who sat glowering and sad, and she smiled. And the Dwarf, hearing the names given in his own ancient tongue, looked up and met her eyes; and it seemed to him that he looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy and saw there love and understanding. Wonder came into his face, and then he smiled in answer.

He rose clumsily and bowed in dwarf-fashion, saying: 'Yet more fair is the living land of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!'

oh my heart. i remember when i fist read this book, long ago, this moment caused such an impression on me, it was my favorite in the book, and oh boy. it still makes me cry even now

#lotr newsletter

[sindar-princeling]

haha you'll probably get this a few times but top 5 lotr characters! or if you want a more unique one, top 5 weapons/accessories! (nenya, glamdring, sam's frying pan, etc. :)

I did in fact get lotr characters right after your ask so I'm going with the accessories!

Lorien brooches (I love their role in the books, I love their design, and also i own one so I'm very biased)

Legolas' Galadhrim bow (I was fascinated with bows when I was a little girl and my love for them never went entirely away, I only used a bow a few times in my life but I always loved it)

the Evenstar! it's just plain gorgeous

Galadriel's headpiece + brooch (? i don't know the english word for it) + Nenya for the same reason, I love their design and the way all those pieces go together with the iconic white dress

Witch-King's helmet is just!! so good!! i love this design so much like what the hell it's so good

#alchemyassist #thank you for asking!! #no questions except on party business

[ebaeschnbliah]

`And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?'

`None, Lady,' answered Gimli. `It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'

`Hear all ye Elves! ' she cried to those about her. `Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.'

`There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. `Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues ' she said; `yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift? '

`Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, `in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'

Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. `These words shall go with the gift,' she said. `I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.’

The travellers now turned their faces to the journey; the sun was before them, and their eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears. Gimli wept openly.

`I have looked the last upon that which was fairest,' he said to Legolas his companion. `Henceforward I will call nothing fair, unless it be her gift.' He put his hand to his breast.

`Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Glóin! '

`Nay! ' said Legolas. `Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Glóin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlórien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale.'

`Maybe,' said Gimli; `and I thank you for your words. True words doubtless; yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zâram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for Dwarves.

'But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the water with all this baggage, and the Great River is swift. I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water.' He took up a paddle, and steered towards the western bank, following Aragorn's boat ahead, which had already moved out of the middle stream.

The gifts for:  

Boromir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Sam: ‘I have brought in my ship gifts’

Aragorn: 'Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell.' 

Frodo: ‘In this phial is caught the light of Eärendil's star.’

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Farewell to Lórien  

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #farewell to lórien #jrr tolkien #lothlorien #caras galadhon #farewell #gifts #galadriel #gimli #legolas #movie pics #peter jackson