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#and maglor watching elrond's children grow up
alystraea · a month ago
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The Death of Arwen
'But Arwen went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Then she said farewell to Eldarion, and to her daughters, and to all whom she had loved; and she went out from the city of Minas Tirith and passed away to the land of Lórien, and dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came. Galadriel had passed away and Celeborn also was gone, and the land was silent.
'There at last when the mallorn-leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth; and there is her green grave, until the world is changed, and all the days of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after, and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea.
'Here ends this tale, as it has come to us from the South; and with the passing of Evenstar no more is said in this book of the days of old.'
(from “The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen”, LotR Appendices)
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If like me you always found Arwen dying alone too unbearably sad, you may have imagined her bros Elladan and Elrohir with her at the end, or her grandfather, canon be damned.
Or... maybe this:
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fanfic under cut: 
Lothlorien, FA 121.
The Wanderer moves like a shadow beneath golden-leaved boughs of mellyrn. His feet have walked the length and breadth of Ennor, but never in the days of Nenya's power did he enter these woods. Only in the last few decades, long after it has lain abandoned by the galadhrim, has he wintered here. The trees of gold awaken memories of Tirion. Each winter he comes, he sees evidence of the fading… the leaves more sparse, the gold less bright… He approaches a great mound at the heart of the woods, with its two circles of trees, white and gold. Even from afar he senses that he is not alone… senses the faint light of a life slowly ebbing away.
She is as a shadow herself, as she lies at the foot of the greatest mallorn at the center of the mound. She is pale as death, and lines of mortality and grief have in the past few months etched themselves upon the face that once was fairest. But still, he knows her. He approaches silently. Kneels near her. He has sung naught but grief and lamentation for millennia. But now, ever so softly, from his lips lilts a tune he heard a maiden sing in the springtime of her life. And her grey eyes slowly open. They are dim, unfocused, and search awhile before they find him. 
"You," she whispers in Sindarin, her voice barely audible. "I know you."
He is intimate with such despair and loneliness. Such sorrow. "Daughter, how may I help you?" he asks gently.
"…Will you… sing…?"
He takes her hand as it lies on the still-green grass. It is cold, so cold, thin and frail, the bones like a bird's beneath flesh grown loose. Her fingers tighten ever so slightly on his.
He stays by her side throughout the winter, through sun and rain, and for her he lays aside his songs of woe. From his lips come all the songs of childhood he once sang to a young pair of twins. He hears the clash of swords in the Havens, remembers the nightmares that woke them—and him—in the nights. He remembers the feel of small bodies pressed against his as he awakens to find they have crawled yet again into his bed, fearful of monsters in their own room. How innocent they had been of the true monster that he was, fair of face but black of soul. How touchingly they had gripped his hand for comfort, that had shed the blood of their kindred. As he sings the old, familiar songs he remembers yet other children. His younger brothers as he sang to them. Himself, as his mother sang to him. He would have wept for the loss and doom of all those children, but he has no tears left to shed.
The nights are cold. He takes a cloak from the oiled-leather pack, the parting gift the elves of Imladris had left for him ere they departed, that one of the peredhel twins had contributed to it. The wanderer now lays the new dark-grey cloak over Arwen.
She speaks only once more, as the first buds appear on the mellyrn, and leaves of gold begin to fall. He barely makes out the words.
 "Estel… tolen*…"
Her face in death is young and radiant, all lines of grief smoothed away.
He buries her where she lies, her brother's cloak her shroud. He raises a shallow mound of earth over her, and scatters early-blooming niphredil over the grave. He then finds a grey stone, and with his blade he takes his time to chisel letters upon it. As he does so, he remembers his mother's hands on his as she had taught him, his hands almost too small then to hold the tools.
Golden leaves fall in the empty woods as spring comes. They flutter onto the mound and upon the stone he has left to mark the grave.
She was neither Queen nor Evenstar of her people to him, so on the grey stone the wanderer has chiseled, in the ancient classical mode of Tengwar:
Arwen Elrondiel.
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(*tolen: “I come”)
(from Ch 35 “Tapestry of Three Worlds” in The Golden and the Black https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289005/chapters/12208913)
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arrivisting · 3 months ago
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sort of fic? I don’t know
I should be working on my wips but instead I am trying to come up with the names for Arwen and Aragorn’s daughters that Tolkien omitted to provide, and instead also I wrote this little stub this afternoon. I don’t quite know what to do with it or where it goes or if it’s going to grow up into a real story one day. I think more stories about Celeborn in Fourth Age Middle-Earth might be neat? also I would quite like to write a story where he and Maglor run into each other and come up with a sort of holding pattern of mutual avoidance while paying their respective visits to Gondor and keeping tabs on Arwen and Aragorn’s descendants.
and then perhaps maybe end up sharing a boat to valinor or something.
fourth age something or rather
Arwen had come to Imladris to watch the twins ride out in glory one last time. Together, they had watched as the final members of Elrond’s household departed for the West with Elladan and Elrohir, leaving dreaming Imladris, a place of shade and silence since its lord’s departure, truly empty at last.
When there was no longer a flash of light or colour in the distance to be seen, when even the last echo of song had faded, Arwen had turned to him. Celeborn had embraced her, and for a moment it had seemed he was not alone in Middle Earth, even if wife, daughter, grandsons had all gone before him. Then she had raised her face from his breast, and under the tear-stains he had seen  lines of mortality already making themselves known about her eyes and mouth, and remembered that his only granddaughter was leaving too, her departure both slower and more final.
That had been years ago, and in the time since he had not come to Gondor, and she had not left it. That was his own faintheartedness: as though, if he did not mark them, the years would not pass, and King Elessar and Queen Arwen would not age, and fade, and die.
The white city of Arnor was lovelier than it had been when it was still Minas Tirith. It had still worn the wounds of recent war in those days of summer and triumph and farewell; there had been great gashes in the seven circles of the city where buildings had fallen, burned, or been crushed by bombardment. Some of the worst debris had been swept away or dispersed in the weeks before the wedding, and the gaps where it had been had stood out like missing teeth. Even cheerful fresh marble already starting to go up had seemed too new, its marked presence itself a sign of loss.
Now the sharpness of the line between old and new city had faded, although it could still be traced, if Celeborn looked hard. It was no longer a city of gates and walls, of fear and watching.
It was not Lindon, and it was not Ost-in-Edhil, but in the spring sunshine its many trees were cloaked in white blossom and the air was thick with petals.
They were still dark, the people of Gondor, but no longer stern and silent. The streets were full of laughter and of song, as though even this unimportant day was a wedding-day, and thronged with people. Many of them had that fine markedness of brow and eye that had not belonged to the Race of Men before Elros. It had been Dior’s, and Luthien’s before his, and Melian’s before hers: and even now, thousands upon thousands of years later, thousands upon thousands of generations past, all those whose forefathers and foremothers had mingled bodies with the children of Elros still bore Melian’s touch, however utterly faint, however infinitesimally dilute. They did not know it, but in Gondor Celeborn saw Luthien’s dancing feet everywhere, and heard the vanished bells of her laughter around every corner of the lower circles.
The daughter of Menegroth had gone forever out of the world; yet her children numbered in the hundreds of thousands, numerous and humming and alive as a hive. She was not gone while they lived. She was more present now than she had been in the days of nightingales and starlight, of hemlock-bells and white moths.
He was only stopped when he came to the gate of the second circle. The guards were wearing winged silver helmets, perfectly polished and undented. Celeborn did not need to give his name. It was enough to brush back the grey hood from his head and let them see his silver hair – his presence alone was enough to mark him, but, being Men, they focused first and last on his ears.
“An Elf!”
“Lord Legolas?”
“Not he – as you’d know, if you’d been at this longer! You’d not find him wearing anything but green!”
“I’ve never seen one before, so close–”
They seemed to be under the impression that their whispers were quiet enough to go uncaught, and he took advantage of their confusion to pass into the highest circles. Here there was less bustle, less life. The houses were grander, and the streets quieter, the blue and grey and purple cloth of Elessar’s people richer and heaver, damascened in silver and gold.
In the Court of the Fountain, he saw the white litheness of Nimloth’s great-great-grandchild. It had been a sapling when he saw it last, too frail to bear blossom. Now it was tall as a maiden, and its head was crowned with flowers.He put one palm to its trunk and closed his eyes, setting aside the noise and ripples of questions around him.
When he opened them again, Arwen was in the courtyard, standing in an arched white doorway with her train looped over her arm. He had been thinking about Luthien, so it was Luthien he saw for a moment: not the Luthien of Eglador dancing in the starlight, but Luthien after the first fall of Menegroth, when they came into Ossiriand to tell her that her father was gone, and her mother also. Luthien who had passed through death and come back mortal, Luthien with silver already in her hair and lines at her eyes, Luthien with  borrowed time sifting too quickly through her lovely fingers.
He blinked, and she was only Arwen. Arwen, Celebrian’s last child. Arwen, his little granddaughter with her long eyelashes and eyes like starlight. Arwen, Elrond’s daughter, the lady of Imladris, grown grave and silent, thinking at her loom.
Arwen, Elessar’s queen, with her glorious blue-black hair bound up in a net of gold, her gown a dream of smoke and her smile the smile of a happy woman.
“It is my grandfather, the Lord Celeborn,” she told the clustering nobles, and meanwhile her eyes said Grandfather, Grandfather, and she was leading him into the Tower of the King, which had been the Tower of the Steward not that long ago.
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starwrought · 7 months ago
Hey, I love your work. I was wanting to request a story. :)
Maglor, winter, red, fatherhood. ❤️
Thank you!
oh, thank you that’s sweet!  ❤️ Here you are with a bit from their childhoods  ❤️
to ward all wounds and harm from them
Elrond and Elros get colder faster than elven children would. They come in from outside with red cheeks, red noses, red on the tips of their ears. Their teeth chatter. Their lips turn blue.
Maglor tries to keep track of it, makes notes of when they start getting cold, sets time limits. He wraps them in their little wool cloaks – red with a pointed hood. They run through the snow and come back shivering, so he takes them inside and pours them tea and warms them by the fire.
He wonders if their parents had these same problems, or if they knew when it was time to drag them back inside, if they got cold fast too. But Elrond grows quiet. But Elros doesn’t remember.
‘Even elves get frostbite,’ Maedhros whispers as the boys sleep. He sips his tea and watches the dark clouds in the sky.
Maglor adds salt to the soup. He doesn’t reply because he’s thinking of Fingon and the missing tip of his ear.
‘We’ll get more fur,’ Maedhros says.
Elros and Elrond bring Maglor holly from the forest. They hang it with twine from the rafters and in front of the window. The candlelight jumps over the leaves and the berries. It sets Maedhros’s hair blazing. It gathers in the boys’ starlit eyes.
Elros dances his finger along the candle flame then back and forth fast enough that it doesn’t burn him.
Maglor sits across the table from him and says, ‘Eat.’
Elros drinks the broth from the soup and then eats the vegetables, the bits of meat. He drinks his milk last.
‘I’m cold, I’m cold, I’m cold!’ Elrond sings, like he isn’t cold at all and just wants Maglor to gather him into his arms and keep him close. Maglor does. He lifts Elrond and holds him tightly to him. Elrond eats the rest of his dinner from Maglor’s lap. Elros skips around the small cabin and then runs to Maglor and holds his arms up. Maglor shifts Elrond over and puts Elros up near him. He kisses the tops of their heads.
The fire grows low. The embers are red. The ash turns from black to grey.
Maglor still hates fire.
‘I want to see the stars, I want to see the stars,’ Elros says, singing it out too. They always sing.
‘It’s cold,’ Maglor says.
‘Cloak!’ Elros retorts. He jumps off Maglor’s lap and pulls on his arm. Maglor gets up, carrying Elrond against his chest. He sets him down on the floor beside the door and helps the boys put on their boots, lace them up, wool sweaters, wool cloak, fur hats, pointed hoods up.
The boys run out in front of him into the winter night. The stars are bright where the clouds aren’t hiding them.
‘It’s the sickle!’ Elros says.
‘It looks like a dipper,’ Elrond sings. His voice bounces off the dark trees around them.
‘Shh,’ Maglor says. He put his hands on their shoulders. ‘It looks like either.’
‘Like a dipper,’ Elrond whispers.
‘Like a sickle,’ Elros says.
‘Like a dipper.’
Elros shoves Elrond into the snow. Elrond throws snow back at him, but it’s the soft, powdery kind that won’t make a real ball and just goes up in a flash of glitter in the lamp light.
‘Boys,’ Maglor scolds. He lifts Elrond off the snow. Elrond brushes the snow from his cloak.
‘I don’t like you anymore, Elros,’ and he rolls the ‘r’ very hard to show he’s serious.
Elros rolls his eyes at him.
Maglor takes Elrond’s hand and then Elros’s and holds them both at his sides so that they can’t fight each other. It feels suddenly like it’s ages ago, when he was holding his little brothers apart so they wouldn’t kill each other. It’s then and it’s now, but it isn’t the future, because his heart is very heavy, and he feels inside of him that these are his last children. His only children, because he’s their father now, not just the older brother who would lock himself in his room when he was sick of it. He can’t walk away from these ones.
And then Elros’s teeth start to chatter, so he scoops them both up and carries them inside to where it is warm again and the room glows with the light of the flames, and it’s so very red on the wooden walls. He stops breathing for a moment, and Maedhros stands, because he knows he’s afraid of fire, and he knows why.
‘It was a bit clear out,’ Maglor says. He sets the boys down. ‘Boots off. Go to the fire.’ He watches them take off their outer clothes, handing each piece to be hung to him so that he can hang them on the wooden pegs on the wooden walls that are too high for them.
Maglor touches the wall.
‘Wood burns so easily.’
And he’s said it out loud, but his children haven’t heard him. They’re by the fire playing with each other’s hair because they’ve already forgotten their fight or it wasn’t important enough to matter.
‘Nelyo,’ Maglor says and clears his throat and smiles. Because he said it out loud.
Maedhros shrugs.
‘But wood is easy to leave. Easy to burn when you have to leave.’
Maglor nods. He pulls off his cloak and hangs it on the peg beside his sons’ cloaks. He brushes out his hair with his fingers until he feels like he’s real again and not a figure standing to the side of a tragedy unable to stop the flames because you can’t scream loud enough to put out fire.
Elrond throws his hands up in the air, and the fire in the brick oven jumps up with his hands, sparking up the chimney.
‘Don’t do that,’ Maglor says firmly.
Elrond looks over his shoulder.
‘I don’t mean to do it,’ he says.
‘I know,’ Maglor answers. He takes the tea that Maedhros hands him and drinks it on the low bench by the low table.
Elrond and Elros face each other to play a clapping game and then the cabin is a home, because there are his children, and they are laughing. And they have hair as black as midnight and eyes as grey as dusk, and they laugh like they could never forget how to, no matter what.
Elros looks over his shoulder at Maglor and smiles. His cheeks are still red, the tip of his nose, the tips of his ears. But his smile is sunshine on a summer day, and his eyes are as bright as starlight.
‘I love you,’ Maglor says.
‘I love you, Ada,’ Elros says.
And Elrond sings, ‘I love you,’ and slaps his hand down on the top of Elros’s hand when he’s distracted.
Elros knocks him to the floor again and they wrestle, hair and teeth and nails. Maglor doesn’t stop them. He watches the way their hair flashes in the firelight, in the candlelight, the way it lights their skin up golden, the summer caught in both their smiles when they think that maybe they’re winning before they go down again.
Maedhros rests his hand on Maglor’s shoulder. Maglor looks up for a moment, but his attention is drawn back to the children.
‘I think maybe you’re too evenly matched,’ he says. The candle flames dance with the children as they fight, going up straighter and taller than their flames should. And the water jumps in the bucket, high like a fountain.
‘That’s enough now,’ Maedhros says.
Maglor shakes his head.
‘No, it’s fine.’
And it is fine, because in the dead of winter, the house glows like summer, and in the dead of the wilderness, a fountain springs. These are his children, born from mortal, immortal, and holy. And the world sings around them, or they sing with the world, and they are caught in the music, and the music catches in their eyes. And the flames are dancing, the water leaping, and the rocks jump to play, and sometimes flowers spring up around them, but they are still his children.
Because he took them. Because he held them. Because they have no one else now. Because he loves them, even with his broken heart. And they can still laugh, even when they are kidnapped, stolen. Even when the world is dying. And maybe that means that there is always hope. Even if that hope was snatched from a battlefield and carried off crying.
Elrond bites Elros, and Elros gasps.
‘Elrond!’
‘Elrond, don’t bite your brother,’ Maglor says instinctively. He’s said that a thousand times too. ‘Turko, Moryo, Curvo, Pityo, Telvo, Elrond, Elros, don’t bite your brother.’
Elros runs to Maglor; Maglor lifts him into his arms. Elros tosses his head at Elrond. Elrond stares back with wide eyes, but then he laughs, and the fire plays like summer-light on his face. Maglor lifts him too. He kisses his children.
Outside the snow falls. The wind screams.
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prismatic-starstuff · a year ago
Soft/fluff - (sorry I'm in a Maglor and Elrond/Elros mood), Maglor teaching them the harp when they're very very little!
This… is probably the cutest thing I’ve written in quite a while; my heart’s so full after writing it, so I hope it’s as sweet to read as it was to write!
It hadn’t taken long for the children in his care to find their way into things they shouldn’t. Many times had he needed to lift Elros up to stop his toddling path towards the fire, many times had he had to gently remove a fine piece of pottery from Elrond’s tiny chubby hands… It had caused Maglor no end of stress at first, it couldn’t be denied. As time drew on, though, he had found himself growing to enjoy the tasks of fatherhood: as trying as the twins could be, the happiness he found in watching how they changed and grew day by day outweighed all of that.
So it was that when he’d rounded the corner to find Elrond on the floor with Elros standing on his back as though he were a footstool, little hands reaching for the strings of his harp, he’d found himself smiling more than anything.
A simple clear of his throat earned him two twin cries of surprise, and Elros tumbled to the floor, himself and Elrond both standing quickly to gaze up with widened eyes.
Rather than scolding them or telling them off, though, Maglor stepped closer. “Come, you two,” he said softly, seating himself on the floor beside the boys and patting his lap. “Do you want to see how it works?”
The twins looked at each other, blinking at once in that manner that twins tended to do, seemingly wondering if it was really okay; before they looked back to their recently found father, grinning brightly and wasting no time in clambering onto him.
Maglor got them settled comfortably and safely, smiling warmly down at the two, before he reached out for his harp and carefully brought it closer. “See, look… This is what you do,” he said, fingers gliding across the strings to strum at them.
And for once - in fact, for what may have been the first time since he took them in as his own - the twins were… utterly silent. Little eyes were wide with amazement as they watched and listened. Glancing down at their faces, Maglor saw two bright grins, and he felt his heart warm.
From that day on, this became a regular occurrence in the household: Maglor would play his harp for the children as a reward for good behaviour, to get them to sleep, to soothe them when they were unsettled. Indeed, the boys had both taken quite an interest in music; something which Maglor, always a minstrel at heart, found absolutely wonderful.
“There you go,” he spoke one day, stepping back and encouraging the twins as they carefully reached for the strings. At first, he had strictly forbidden either of them from touching the harp in fear of them breaking it; but they had proven themselves trustworthy as time had gone by, and now that they were a little bit older and a little bit wiser, he thought it was time to see how they would take to playing it themselves. “Careful now.”
Two sets of wide eyes gazed at him, as though they weren’t quite sure if they really could… before finally, Elros went first, reaching out so carefully to pluck at a low string. The note rang out, and he giggled proudly; and Elrond, confidence bolstered, plucked at one of the higher strings. More music, more giggles.
Maglor couldn’t stop himself from joining in after a few moments, sitting between his boys and joining in on their song, showing them which notes to play to create harmonies and chords; and the room was filled with joy, and laughter, and music.
Indeed, it didn’t take long for his mischievous little children to grow into promising little musicians.
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blankdblank · a year ago
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Ridikulus Pt 26
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**
Four in the morning came with another rainy trip out to the quidditch pitch again with an odd peek into the nursery now with Teddy on his next to last night here as Tonks had taken up Remus’ offer to freshen up their home in Godric’s Hollow. After so long apart they wished for a night alone before she would bring Teddy home to their house next to Bill and Fleur’s so they could have more time to be used to being together again. His crib would be moved to their home leaving more room for Fin and Em. Surely the boys would want to spend more time at your home possibly leading to a possible solution. Mid workout you had thoughts to design their own room sort of like your Puff dorm, full beds built into alcoves in the walls with wardrobes and desks that they might enjoy over sharing a large bed since Em had her own space.
You knew they had their own nursery in Northern Greenwood in Glorfindel’s suite soon to be joined with the King’s through a sitting room a doorway would be carved into easing the growth of space to welcome you all comfortably into what would be your new home as a family. They hadn’t approached the topic of moving in together yet, though it had been mentioned in passing once, your thoughts on how his apartment had looked to see if you might want to redecorate.
Between laps you still tried to wrap your mind around the fact both men were wanting to be yours, both of whom now having four sons under their care. Now on top of Em you would have more children to add to your own daily lives that would be shifted to fit all of them. It was hard enough to figure out how your own days would go as you were trying to settle in the new state of this world while also settling into the reality you would have to shuffle Em in and out of Barty’s attention so she wouldn’t feel left behind or set apart from her younger siblings.
Finally you had grown centered enough to not feel like you had to find a man to fill in the gap you assumed you had missed out on romantically growing up due to the death trap your life was. Now it was just trying to settle with the fact that your blondes were soul mates of sorts and the fact you had to wait, die twice and watch your world burn to have to meet them. Things seemed to be going well and your nights were significantly less vision filled since reaching Rivendell, it just took some work not to swerve yourself out of things assuming the worst was coming around the corner.
Mid final round of pull ups your eyes shifted to Ginny seeing her own exhausted self pushing through things physically, always settling through as you had, physically to work out your aggressions or irritations. Fin was absolutely adored by her, there had been enough time for her to have processed the infidelity nearly a year back now, merely feeling the weight of the loss of her first love still while getting to know a wonderful soul mate who had been waiting for her all this time. The Elves were a bit odd to get used to, lovely people just differently cultured and socializing than you all had been. Slowly but surely he was coming out of his shell and was learning to slip into the group outings he had attended more comfortably. But on your way to shower before breakfast you could tell she might need a bit more of a workout to help her get through what seemed to be a rough day for her.
*
An hour to the workout and Ginny had woken remembering nothing more than a late night rainy night session of cards with Harry, his comforting way of seeing her through the summer after she had split with Dean. Not just as her former boyfriend and father to the baby she had lost, but her friend who knew subtle ways to help her out when you weren’t around. It wasn’t often when she couldn’t reach you, though as the youngest she did have the best spot to notice what the older teens couldn’t, just how tired you were, how hard things were, subtly missed signs that you weren’t okay and you needed someone to save you leading to her nudging Harry to realize it too. As she grew she wanted to be just as supportive as everyone had been to her but the sting of this new world did have her in a haze some times.
Shifts at the shop were going to help, starting up in the next week when the shop would be freshened up and the routine would do wonders in helping to keep her from shaking Haldir into just saying what he was thinking. She wouldn’t let him be the third guy not saying what he was thinking. It was obvious that there was so much he wanted to say. She just had to find the subtle way to get him to open up, the one way you seemed to find easily she was trying to learn and was getting better at. He just seemed to be a new sort of puzzle and clearly he liked her but the Elven way of things was really trying her patience on not tackling the stunning man in a fiery kiss just to get some oil on the gears of all this past another foot between them stroll through gardens or supervised visits.
Showering and a stop to visit Mum where she broke into a frantic bout of cleaning shooing everyone out of the house so she could fix what another kerfuffle had done to her kitchen. Chuckling in a path to head back to the Black Manor Percy was going to snatch up some time with Em and Fin on his day off to take up the chance to get the chance to spend the day playing after all the stress of the flue system.
Though on another stroll unwilling to go on a garden tour just yet, just another day where she would be treated as a Princess by the Elves she came into contact with. Truly her sibling relationship with you had somehow latched a title onto her whole family in connection to you that seemed to be aiding in the slow pace of her connection deepening with Haldir. Even Lindir had shown a reluctance to ease comfortably with Regulus at first until he somehow had caved the soufflé of a man into courting bliss welcoming him near daily to family meals when he’s available.
Being a Lady seemed to be hard enough as even Hermione had trouble being overly feminine, she could pull off respectable but even spending time with the Durins hearing about Dis especially Ginny was easing into knowing that Princesses could be strong and not be criticized or challenged for it. At least in that she could relax in not having to change from the strong woman her mother had shown for all of you to aspire to be. Some fresh air might be what she needed. The rain had stopped and looping between the puddles she strolled through the streets only to turn at the sight of the brothers who seemed to aim to give you a hard time. And turning out of their path she found herself right where she knew she’d eventually end up, where she always ends up on days she feels like this, right back at the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow.
Standing between the twin headstones that stabbed the deepest in the sea of tokens and mementos to honor those lost and left behind until the full memorial would be set up once the design suggestions would be weighed and voted upon. A subtle wave of her hand and a set of crystal flowers she left at each of the headstones with words to each of the relatives eventually losing her train of thought sharing more about Fin in his first days.
.
All night the Feanoreans, once again lost to their curiosity about your people to get better pictures of who you were, they had found the enchanted pathways and stared through the one marked Pumpernickel with narrowed eyes wondering what the odd word meant. When the rains had ceased the returned Lords led the way through the archway. After a glance around ensuring the Dragons were not loose and with sight of a few milling Elves exploring themselves they followed the path eyeing the various homes along the way until they came across a small set of cottages.
There behind a ruined and graffitied cottage they spied the fenced in courtyard filled with floating orbs in linked spirals containing glowing images of the faces of those that had been survived by your fleeing people above each of the worn gravestones in varying shapes. For a moment however Elrond froze at the symbol on the Peverell headstone parting his lips as he recalled it as Namo’s mark instantly reminding him of your ring. In the distance Elros led the path to the familiar red head in the distance rising from her knees at the base of the most unusual statue, at least from his position at the side of it.
Behind him Maglor flicked aside the vines covering the plaques below each statue he passed unable to read the markings on each while Caranthir and Clegorm stopped to each pick up one of the scattered notes only to eye them unable to read what they said in the Common Tongue. Curufin behind them raised a curious looking stuffed whale, their attentions to the items brought the stern glare from Ginny straight on them making Maedhros freeze in place as she called out, “Do your people not have rules against disturbing grave sights?” Instantly the men froze and gingerly set the trinkets and tokens back.
Elros raised his hand from a string of vines on her turn watching them approach her eyeing the statue behind her, “We were not aware what these lands were.”
Elrond tilted his head inspecting the statue behind her asking, “We did not intend on interrupting your mourning.”
Ginny drew in a breath, “I was leaving flowers for Jaqi’s Mother, they always say they will, but they can rarely stand to visit.”
Amrod, “She cannot visit her own Mother’s grave?”
Ginny raised her arm pointing at the crumbling cottage coated in notes they had all inspected in their trip inside, “That cottage is where Jaqi apperated to after watching her Mother be tortured to death. Where she watched her Aunt Lily and Uncle James get killed by Riddle before he tried to kill her and her Cousin Harry in his crib.” Her arm moved to the one next to it, “That cottage is where she lived before Sirius sent them into hiding, she hasn’t been able to go inside of it since then. My Mum had to help her Uncle Regulus pack it.”
Their lips parted and they eyed the statues again, Amras asked, “That is her Mother’s grave?”
Ginny turned guiding them to the statue of the couple holding baby Harry in their arms with their birth and death dates under their names at the base, with Harry’s having two death dates, “This is James, Lily and Harry’s grave.” In a step to the left she showed them the statue of Jewelia and Jaqi in her arms with a large black dog beside them, “This is Jewel’s and Jaqi’s.”
Curufin, “Jaqi’s?”
Ginny pointed at the second plaque reading, ‘Jaqiearae Suzsieanne Anistasiea Pluto Black’ with two death dates before another dash leaving room for your third, “She’s been killed twice. Well, technically three if you count the time in the third floor hidden corridor. When Riddle had possessed Quirrell and when she was assumed dead as a child and the Battle at Hogwarts.” Their eyes scanned over the dates leaving them gasping.
Clegorm, “How old is she?”
Ginny met his eyes coldly, “22 on the first.” Drawing out another gasp from all but Elrond, who already knew from your Father. Her eyes shifted to Maedhros, “For all you might not trust or like about her, she has spent the last 18 years of her life never once being considered for how deeply the choices our world forced her into would inflict pain on her. One single man hoping for power and immortality heard a prophecy naming an infant that would be able to bring him down, so he went to kill him. 18 years she has been a pawn in someone else’s war and an endless battle of egos and she somehow managed to survive and bring us with her here, to safety. We were children, and somehow we were expected to take out the darkest Wizard of our age. Before you came we had finally settled, started to heal again, what right do you have to doubt her when you were the one to kill those boys’ Parents. How does that give you any rights to them?!”
Maedhros, “Their cultures must be honored!”
Ginny stepped closer to him as her glare tightened, “Their cultures?! You destroyed their culture! Their home, Family and lives! You killed them that day! Who they were going to be, what they could have achieved! You just don’t understand!”
Maedhros huffed stating sarcastically, “Oh please do enlighten me.”
Ginny’s eyes sparked and she muttered an incantation casting the graveyard into a field of mist starting a stream of memories locked in this memoriam for any willing to witness them.
Starting with the public announcement of the events at Godric’s Hollow echoing with flashes of titles reading in their own native tongues, ‘The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Died Protecting Him’. After this it rippled through your years of hiding as a Weasely. Sirius’ escape short after. Next was the naming of your being named as alive and your house in Hogwarts to the world.
Then it was the news of each of the teachers being dismissed in your position. The troubling trip to try to save Quirrel leaving them covering their mouths when you saw that you had failed. Up till the Chamber of Secrets being opened leaving you sent to Azkaban leaving them with mouths agape at the headlines and image of you being carried bloody and beaten in Lucius’ arms from Azkaban in their tying to beat the location of the Chamber from you. After was the apologies and clearing of your and Hagrid’s names.
All the headlines of your trip to the States defending the Lycan Citizens flashed up with a memory of your speech to the President of MACUSA and the effect those words had on their lives. All of the Vaults in the school and creatures you had battled and protected the students from. That skipped to the trip to Paris where a lost child had been returned at least to be honorably buried bringing with it an entire family claiming up an entire chunk of your familial history.
The attack at the Quidditch cup and Triwizard tournament, that left Cedric, you and Harry the final survivors with the image of you gagging on your own blood after one of the Crabbe’s had nicked your neck with a cursed blade that inflicts wounds that slowly expands, nearly decapitating you. Shortly after the world exploding in half, all torn about Riddle being back or not.
After was the flurry from the Ministry about trying to hide Riddle’s return and Umbridge, revealing her methods of ‘teaching’ to the men watching. In the middle of the Department of Mysteries you battled in the sea of glowing orbs then raced to fight in the rocky hall with the smoky archway that dissolved your father’s ghoul when it was killed. From there at the heart clenching image of your rage at the assumed loss of your father into the Ministry of Magic the main hall of fountains was shown with you attacking Bellatrix, slapping Riddle then dueling in Albus’ form. Up until Riddle held you off the ground strangling you until you shifted back, just in time for the picture etched in the floating newspaper passing the group was captured moments before Riddle fled.
After this the images sped on, one after another of various deaths, battles and moments leading up until the final battle at Hogwarts leaving you trading places with Neville shifting him free from Bellatrix’ attack, starting your final battle with her. Helpless they watched on at the hidden dagger crashing into your leg before the final curse you triggered from her in your taunting. Growing burns from the cruciatus curse spread across your skin between your screams while Ginny clenched her fists glaring at the teary eyed Maedhros watching on helpless just as the students, Aurors, flocks of ducks and Professors had behind your bubble charm.
Finally your screams ended in a flash of green as you flew in front of Bellatrix taking the full blow of Riddle’s killing curse sending you both rolling across the dust and rubble coated ground. In a race Riddle got to your side and cradled you in his arms as the blackened ooze draining from your facial scars was releasing out a near silent scream under his wails of agony at your loss. Sharply he turned to Bellatrix, blue eyes burning with rage fueled tears and a sharp snarl at the cowering Bellatrix who was promptly killed after.
Slowly their eyes returned to you, seeing Neville standing shouting at Riddle distracting him from your body slowly slumped over onto your side and you painfully clambered to your knees drawing out your wand. In a slow rasp for air you apparated in front of Neville when Riddle cast his next spell causing his wand to launch his curse right back at him and his wand exploded. Falling unconscious right after the orb you dropped that captured hundreds of Death Eaters and those from the other factions of Wizards attacking your allies.
After, your trial played following the scene of the Ministry tearing you from your hospital bed to your due diligence. Ending with you barely being able to stand through the announcement of your sentence, the uproar causing there to be a pause in judgment with the shout that you would never see your child again. Percy’s step in nearly had them collapsing in tears seeing finally someone stepping up to defend you until Rufus entered with Albus, Sirius and Regulus, once in session again you were sentenced to life serving as a teacher and given the warning of prison should the Death Eaters rise again. Next the flurry of the past couple years flew by with memories from each group ending with the flurried snatching up of what could be gathered in a staggering battle you caught more than a hefty helping of attacks from that ended with crashing in Bag End.
When their breathing had steadied their eyes fell on Ginny as the last of the mist rolled away leaving them trembling at her fading glare dropping into a deeply sunken expression, “We should have protected her. But we all used her as our shields while the former Ministry condemned her all while taking the information she fed them on how to arm and protect our people. And she never once condemned us for it, she just took the brunt of it, and took it and never accepted a thank you or apology. She was in the twins’ place, you do not understand because you are not trying to protect them. If anyone knows what they are going through it’s her. Say what you want about her, but you will never get those boys, and she will never let you hurt them again.”
Maedhros, “I have no intention-.”
Ginny flatly cut him off, “No one ever does, but they do.”
Elrond cleared his throat asking, “Have you eaten? I know in my own tours of our memorial gardens I require a meal afterwards.”
Ginny, “We’re always hungry. Family trait.”
Elrond smirked to himself and Elros said, “In that we can help. Tea should be prepared by our return.”
Elrond added in her turn to join the still trembling brothers around the twins reeling at all they had seen, Maedhros himself remembering his own torturing years under Melkor’s hand. “Tea would grant Haldir ample time to complete his first day on his new rotations.”
Ginny glanced up at him, “New rotations?”
Elrond, “Ah, yes, it was a late night decision by King Thranduil, Haldir must not have been able to inform you yet of his aiding on the training of the new guards for the patrols around Amon Lanc. Along with his brothers they would be aiding the lifting of the standard for the recovered lands.”
Caranthir, “Princess, you have interest in patrols of King Thranduil’s guards?”
Trying not to stammer at the title she replied, “Haldir’s my One.”
Curufin, “You would accept a March Warden as your spouse?”
At that Ginny asked, “Who did you marry?” Curufin looked at her with a shocked gaze, “Haldir is a phenomenal person who I doubt you barely know to judge on his job alone.”
Curufin, “My wife is a sculptor. Trained our son Celebrimbor in his crafting early on in his youth.”
Ginny, “Your son didn’t return?”
Elrond cleared his throat drawing her gaze, “He is in Amon Lanc.”
Ginny looked over his face then back to Curufin, “He does not speak with me for honoring my oath in retrieving our Father’s Silmarils and my part in the slayings following.”
Ginny, “Hmm.” In her look forward he glanced at her again, “Anyone else have kids?”
They glanced at her and Amrod replied, “No, our wives have arrived from Valinor with the new arrivals however.”
Ginny nodded, “So you’re going to try for kids then? What about jobs? Any plans?”
The questions widened their eyes and the twins could only smirk at the brothers stammering and sputtering lost for responses they still couldn’t form through the tea.
Still partially in her slump Ginny slipped out in the middle of what seemed to be a brewing argument and made her way home again. Though in her entrance the sight of you had her drawing in a sharp breath uncertain of how to answer the question of how she’d spent the day so far, first in the graveyard and then with the Feanoreans. “Wanna come throw me around?” The question was simple and was all she needed to hear earning a nod and her hand outstretched to settle in your offered palm, “Come on, let’s go throw me around.”
Through the house you guided her to change into capris and baggy t shirts over tank tops, barefoot for your walk to the smaller ballroom turned sparring gym coated in mats. To the floating tape rolls you walked removing your rings, extending your hands for the rolls to coat your hands. Pressing your fists into your other palms you tested the tape and on your way to grab the padded gloves you slid over your hands stepping into the circle Ginny was walking around inside. Joining in her circling you said, “Jabs first I think.” She nodded and stepping closer she split back into the usual patterns in her advancing steps with a set of high kicks to meet the glove you raised complicating the interweaving motions soon adding Hermione also in need of a good bit of steam release herself.
Curiously in her huffing slip out of a meeting to allow more Dams to be forced into Dis and Diaa’s attention Niro guided the young Princes after the irritated future Princess had sat through another session of lessons on what was to be expected of her new role on top of her job. Though wide smirks eased across their lips seeing her drip into a clearly impressive bout of sparring the other Durins grinned in settling around the benches along the walls. The dropped gloves came in Regulus’ entrance to guide Hermione into another lesson on trading elbows and kicks avoiding his try to take her down to pin her to the ground starting as Haldir slipped inside with Legolas behind your intendeds whose lips parted seeing Ginny toss you over her shoulders.
Onto your shins you were guided and folded back flat with her hands on your shoulders only to have the Dwarves oohing at the position she had left you in, open to her being pinned herself. With a smirk you asked, “What are you forgetting?”
Ginny looked you over, “You’re pinned. How-,”
A sudden lift from you made even the Elves smirk watching her feet leaving the ground allowing you to flip her over. Holding her head to aid her roll, pinning her down with your legs pinning her legs down behind her back with yours around her middle and a hand gripping her wrists making her giggle helplessly saying, “No one uses this move. No one but you can do this.”
To which Kili said in even Hermione and Regulus’ chuckle break, “Actually that’s a staple move in our traditional wrestling forms.”
While you let her up Ginny said, “No offence but with your legs and wide ribs I doubt you could pull it off.” That had you pulling back at Fili and Kili leaping up along with Thorin and Frerin both stripping their upper halves and out of their boots amusing you all to no end at their full display luring you three back in to learn some more moves and share some of yours.
.
“Let’s get this down,” the statement was mumbled and died in giggles at your waking from your dream on Thorin and Dwalin wrestling over a pack of cookies with Fili and Kili eventually eating them watching the pair wrestle before they darted away when the empty pack was discovered by the elders.
An early breakfast came and went with you bringing Em to Barty’s so she could meet her siblings, to be picked up in a couple hours by Ginny after her stop to help Hermione with something at the Ministry. Her night had gone way better after blowing off steam and next to you when you had held Fin to keep him calm through the bad storm that rolled through your lands she fell asleep as you had. Your intendeds had to return to check on their new patrols and eat with the boys while Molly has outdone herself with dinner on one of her sprees to distract from a hot flash.
More and more you focused on your classes with scattered notes received through the day from Em on how happy she was with her new siblings until they all started to cry at least. Lunch however had you sending off a note to Glorfindel with Em’s request to have dinner there the group gladly accepted and readied for.
“Alright, I got sippy cups and silly straws, which are you up for?” You said entering their dining room in Thranduil’s apartment turning the boys’ head as Em was set down at your feet to greet them.
“I want a cup, Mummy.” Em said then tottered over to the boys.
Looking them over you said , “Cups it is.” Catching their confused stares.
Around you Legolas and Glorfindel came closer with the former asking, “You brought cups?”
Giggling softly you said, “They have lids. Easier for children to use. Unless they’d prefer not to use them.” Pouring the juice on the table into the green cup you added the lid onto that Em accepted to drink from the boys agreed to try them and accepted their own drinks they grinned through using. Next came high chairs they all enjoyed being settled into at the tall person table instead of their kids table when they didn’t have a lap to sit on. The meal went swimmingly while you all giggled along to the conversation the children were having between comments and brief questions for the adults when thought of.
Again however once the plates were cleared the twins were reluctant to play nearly stirring a pout from Em until your tap on Legolas’ arm stating he was it. Crouching down you said, “How about Hide N Seek?” A simple instruction and request from you had Thranduil and Glorfindel out of their outer robes and circlets to play as well. The rules were simple and in usual fashion you had mentally guided the Lords to grant the children a bit of leeway on their far from sneaky spots luring terribly hushed giggles making them grin knowing why you had said to do so. Playing dumb made the game more fun for the children and more amusing for Lords Elrond and Celeborn in their visit to speak about Lindir and the new guards’ progress.
Though all in a group the twins led by Estel in his stumped search for you had Em saying “Mummy’s the best at hiding.”
A far from subtle rustle of a leafy branch in the tree you were hiding in had you giggling when they all finally found you unnoticed above their heads for the past few minutes. A hop down and giggling race to help them find Glorfindel next came and by the time you discovered Thranduil heads began to droop and yawns rippled through the tired quartet you all carried them up to the Royal Wing for the boys’ nursery.
In an empty closet for them you traced the doorway making a link to your door exiting from a spare coat closet in the hall across from your bedroom to carry Em through. The link now easing the worries of the men to have an easier way to check on you and bring the boys to you again if need be. All tucked in they slept under Taule’s watch and Legolas chuckled heading off to work on his bow for you wishing you a fun night. Stealing a glance at the smile on his father’s face as you were off on a suggested night ride with the pair between lingering stolen kisses and adoring comments on their time with you today. This time with Glorfindel you rode in their try to keep it even and until their list of sights they wished to share were awed at by you they clung to you then gladly took you back to the Palace for some tea.
Pt 27
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