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mothdalf · 4 years

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@finweanladiesweek

DAY ONE: Míriel Þerindë and Indis

I’ve depicted them both in their wedding gowns here, sort of two different moments in time linked together.

Under the cut is a VERY long head-canon/meta that eventually kind of turned into a fic, hidden in case you just want to focus on the art.

Indis is a Vanyar lady from the House of Ingwë, I like to think she was close in age to Finwë and they met when the Vanyar and Noldor first arrived in Valinor. They end up dancing and socialising at pretty much every event and are pretty good friends. That friendship has the potential to change into something romantic. But what’s the rush? They’re immortal. He’s a king, finally establishing a safe place for his people. There’s no danger here. No need to produce heirs. No need to marry the first person you dance with.

Míriel didn’t enter the picture until later. I like to think of her as half-Telerin hence her silver hair. Her parents were a Noldor nis and a Telerin ner who met during the great journey, her mother choosing to remain with her husband and the Teleri who lingered East of the sea. As a result Míriel was born on Tol Eressëa, and is quite a bit younger than Finwë and Indis.

Despite her typically Telerin looks, Míriel was a Noldor at heart and immersed herself in Noldorin culture and craft, soon settling on embroidery and weaving. She even journeyed to the House of Vairë to further her textiles skills and learn from the Vala and her Maiar.

I like the idea that many elves in Valinor follow a specific Valar, learning from them and acting as emissaries and ambassadors and links between them and the elves. Any elf can choose this (e.g. Celegorm and Oromë) but it is more common among the Vanyar. It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So they meet in the House of Vairë. And they’re very different. Indis is philosophical, interested in the themes, and the music, and the history of Vairë’s tapestries; Míriel inspects the stitches with a magnifying glass, and has to be stopped more than once from teasing the fibres apart to see how they’re woven together.

Indis channels logic and a cool composure, very insightful and granted foresight in many matters. She’s mindful, and always present, finding pleasure in this very moment. Míriel buzzes with ideas, sometimes her head hurts and she can’t think straight because she HAS to work through this next project, move on to the next one, she can’t step away she can’t stop. And her composure can be obliterated by one blow to her pride.

But somehow the friendship works, opposites attract sometimes. And upon their return from the house of Vairë, Míriel invites Indis to Alqualondë. And after that they visit each other often, and share letters once Míriel has learned to write Sarati. And if those letters ever start to take on a more flirting tone- well there’s no rush for them either.

It’s on one of these visits that they run into Finwë, Indis introduces her new friend, and the rest is history. It’s only after this that Indis turns her keen insight on herself and has an “oh shhiiit” moment. And now her best friends are engaged and what is she supposed to do?

She helps Míriel dress for her wedding day, arranging jewels, combing her hair, lifting the heavy embroidered fabric of the wedding dress she worked for months on over her head, and finally placing her crown on top.

They’re happy. She’s happy for them. There’s no betrayal or tricks or seduction, just love. Besides it’s probably better Finwë marries a Noldor woman anyway.

So when Míriel announces that she’s expecting a baby, Indis is sure the dull foreboding she feels is nothing but jealousy from a deep part of herself that she tries to shut away. She watches and helps Míriel as she pours all her creative efforts into beautiful things for this baby. Toys and clothes and blankets and anything else she can think of. Indis teases that the child won’t have to repeat an outfit for at least 100years at this rate. They take a trip back to the place they met and work together at one of Vairë’s vast looms to make a tapestry mural for the nursery.

But soon the frenzied crafting starts to slow. And slow more. Until Míriel barely bothers to do anything. People who know her are worried, but she just takes her husbands hand and says that she’s tired, after all she is working on something special at the moment.

When Fëanáro is born Indis watches her friend scream and curse, and eventually weep with joy as she whispers to her husband “he’s the most perfect thing we’ve ever made”

Things do get better for a while. But Míriel’s eye starts to twitch when people congratulate Finwë on their son, until eventually she barks out “of course he’d get the credit! I only did all the hard work” in a rough, sarcastic laugh that’s so unlike her. She doesn’t go to any formal events after this.

She sobs to her husband that she’s frightened. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s happy, except that she’s not. She finds no joy and no inspiration, she’s cold and tired and feels like she’s fading away.

Finwë suggests a trip away, so they go back to Míriels house in Alqualondë, and she doesn’t feel as watched, as judged, less angry and paranoid.

But the grief doesn’t lift. She can’t settle to work, she can’t find anything she wants to work on, her head is emptied of ideas and full of fog and she just wants to sleep.

Indis comes to visit them and finds Míriel in the nursery one evening, crying quietly. At first she won’t talk, simply saying that she doesn’t want to wake him, but the tears don’t stop and eventually she whimpers that she’s scared, and she’s disgusted with herself. Because she loves her son so much, but she can’t help but resent him. In some small dark part of her mind she’s angry with him, for taking her happy life away from her, taking her strength and her drive.

Indis takes her hands and pulls her to her feet and down the stairs to Finwë. “we’re going to Lorien. Tonight. Staying here isn’t helping her and she needs more than this.” She towers over both of them and there’s no arguing with her tone.

Irmo and Estë help all they can. Nienna helps more. Eventually Míriel calms. Almost eerily.

One night she calls Indis to the garden of Lorien. Míriel embraces her and kisses her cheeks and thanks her for her help. She holds her hands and tells her she’s sorry, but she’s made her choice.

Indis tried to change her mind. So does Finwë when he runs toward the sound of a raised voice. Not Míriel this time.

She asks Indis for a moment with her husband. And Indis runs to fetch Fëanáro.

She hands the baby to Míriel and asks how she can leave him, he needs her.

Míriel’s face crumples but her resolve doesn’t. “I’ve already given him everything I have”

She presses the baby into her husbands arms and kisses him before lying down on the stone bench and closing her eyes. Míriel sighs, finally feeling peaceful, and doesn’t breath again.

After the resulting uproar has died down, Indis doesn’t see Finwë very much. She visits occasionally and reads his letters about Fëanáro’s brilliant progress eagerly, but nothing is ever as it was.

When they meet again by accident on Oiolossë, it all comes back to them both. They’ve missed each other, they miss Miriel, but they don’t have to loose each other. So they fall in love, and she comes back with him to Tirion while they make a plan. Fëanáro (the equivalent of a 10yo) is wonderfully pleasant to her, he asks about his mother a lot, and shows her all the things he’s learning about and working on. He’s so like Miriel that Indis doesn’t know how Finwë stands it.

When they first tell him that they want to get married, he doesn’t think much of it, at least until he picks up on the gossip and controversy, it’s only then that he starts to realise that something is different.

Indis gets ready for her own wedding without her best friend.

Fëanáro doesn’t take the Statute well, and the problems start. He decides to move away to continue his studies. Indis is not invited to visit him when his Father is.

Finwë is terrified when Indis gets pregnant with their first child, but she’s not. “I am not Miriel. As much as some might wish that were the case.”

The relationship between Fëanáro and his half siblings is a whole separate post. But the things he says about her and her children hurt Indis.

Sometimes she wants to scream at him “I knew your mother! I was her friend! I lost her too! She would hate to hear you talk to me this way!” but she won’t. She can see how he feels and she understands why, but this doesn’t mean she takes the way he treats her children lightly, and he wishes Finwë would back her more in this. But she bares it, and she teaches her children to be kind.

This all changes with the incident. Fëanáro can lash out, he can say cruel things, but he has never threatened one of her children before. And he never will again if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. She hears the Valar’s judgement, and knows she will comfort Finwë over his sons banishment, as much as she is grateful for it.

The rage she feels when Finwë decides to go with him is cosmic. But it’s when she sees Nolofinwë’s face that she snaps. She tells him with eyes sharper than any sword that if he chooses to go, he can never come back to her. No matter what happens between his sons, she will never forgive him for what he’s doing to her’s.

The news of his death makes her heart hurt in the strangest way. She’s closed herself off from him but the pain bleeds through. At least now he can be with Miriel, she thinks. He made it clear where his heart truly lay when he left. She laughs until she sobs, then composes herself to comfort her children.

She nearly sends Fëanáro to reunite with his father in Mandos when he insights her children and grandchildren to follow him across the sea. She nearly faints when Arafinwë comes back baring tidings of the kinslaying, the streets Míriel showed her around littered with bodies and the beach they would walk along in the evening wet with blood.

Indis stands beside her youngest son when he’s crowned and moves back into her old rooms in Tirion, abandoned when Finwë left for Formenos. After all, she’s been a ruling queen for longer than Arafinwë has lived. She’ll make a good advisor.

In Mandos Míriel is faced by the life she chose to leave behind. First her husband, and then her son. She speaks with Finwë for a long time, and many hurts are healed, but they’ve both made choices they can’t take back. Míriel stands by her decision, she chose to stay, at least in part so Finwë could move on, they make their peace with other, and she encourages him to return and make peace with his other wife. News of their son’s death stops him. He knows that he will remain, it’s with Fëanáro that his heart truly lies, not Míriel, whatever Indis may think. So he appeals for her to be allowed to leave in his place, every inch the king as he points out that the statute will remain unbroken.

She is allowed to see Fëanáro once before she leaves. There are no words for how she feels. So sad, so proud. She’s so sorry to leave him again, but she promises to watch over his sons.

Míriel returns to life, but she doesn’t return to the life she left. She stays close to the halls, and goes to a timeless place, but one she knows well.

It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So much is different, and there’s a lot to work through, and it’s hard. But being back where they began, with a new life for each of them, is made easier with this reprise of their youth.

And if, as their friendship blooms again into a new form, Míriel eventually asks about the specific wording of the statute, and what it means for them being the two living parts of this three person marriage, well- there’s no rush to figure it out.

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elvish-sky · 3 years

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Ready {Merry x Reader}

A.N: This request was awesome! I’m a big cartography girl, so it was really fun getting to use some maps for this. And the min-panic attack the reader experiences is based on my own, I get lots of little ones a lot, and rarely have a big one, so that’s where that came from. I hope you like this little fic, I’m sorry it’s so short!

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Hi there! I really enjoy reading your writing and your blog makes me smile everytime I see something new pop up! If you’re taking them, I’d like to request a Merry x reader fic where they are both working together to research the lands they expect to cross and trying to memorise maps for the journey ahead in Rivendell?

Word Count: 661

Pairing: Merry x Reader

Summary: In Rivendell, you and Merry study maps in preparation for the journey to destroy the ring.

Warnings: Fluff, Mini-Panic attack

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Ready

“Okay, so if you’re at Sarn Gebir, and need to get to Morannon, what would you do?” You sat cross legged on the floor opposite the hobbit, maps spread all around.

“Cross the Anduin before the Falls of Rauros, then skirt the southwestern edge of the Emyn Muil, going around the Dead Marshes. Go southwest from there and you should reach Morannon,” Merry spoke with a confident smirk.

You nodded at his answer, and, pleased, he asked you a question. “How do we get to Lorien from here, Rivendell?”

“We are going to go due south along the Misty Mountains before reaching Caradhras, at which we’ll cross the mountains, head west, and eventually reach Lorien.”

He nodded at your answer. “Good job! It’s getting late, so I think we should turn in for the night. Let’s head back to our rooms.”

You smiled at him, taking the hand he offered to help you up. Entwined hands swinging between you, you walked through the halls of Rivendell back to your rooms.

The next day, you walked into the outdoor dining area to see Merry, eating next to Pippin while speaking with the man from Gondor who had joined the Fellowship with you. You were pretty sure his name was Boromir.

Merry was busy questioning him about his kingdom while Pippin looked on. “So, the two cities are Minas Tirith and Osigiliath, right, Boromir?”

The man shook his head. “Well, technically yes, but Osgiliath is just ruins. We hold it against the forces of Mordor at the moment. But yes, Minas Tirith is our main city. It’s mine and Aragorn’s eventual destination.”

Merry nodded, “And what do you know of Rohan?”

“A little. They are a great people, known as exceptional horse-riders. Known as the Rohirrim. And Rohan is a very hilly land, which explains the usefulness of horses.”

“That makes sense. Thanks, Boromir! Now, Y/N and I better get off to the library. Today we’re going to review the geography of Rohan.”

“Have fun, you two!” Pippin winked at Merry, and you reached out and punched him lightly in the arm. His cry of “Ow!” followed you out the door.

Later that day, you sat at a table while reading about the settlements of Rohan, of Helm’s Deep and Edoras. Breathing in and out, you tried not to panic, the full reality of where you were going to go setting in.

Merry turned the corner around the bookshelf to see you there, knees brought to you chest as your breathing quickened. Rushing over, he grasped your hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Hey. Y/N, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“I- I…” Your breathing was still fast, and Merry helped you take a deep breath, then another, and as your chest shuddered you finally spoke.

“I’m scared.”

His eyes widened in understanding. Knowing the best thing was just to let you talk it out, he asked, “Why?”

“Well, I mean I know we’ve been looking at these maps for a while but it’s kinda just sinking in that we’re going to travel so far. I mean, a few months ago I’d never left the Shire. I guess… I’m scared of the unknown.”

Merry nodded. “Me too.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Of course! Who doesn’t? But we’re going to see stuff no other hobbit has seen. And we’re helping Frodo, and that’s all that really matters.”

“That’s true,” you smiled up at the hobbit. “Thank you, Merry.”

“No problem,” he said as he sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders so that you could rest your head on his.

Several weeks later, the full Fellowship stood at the gates of Rivendell, preparing to leave. As you got ready to step out into the world again, you turned your head to see Merry standing next to you.

“Ready?” Merry was smiling at you as he held out his hand.

You nodded, clasping his hand with your own. “Ready.”

Everything tag <3: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16

#maiawrites #lord of the rings #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #merry #merry brandybuck #merry x reader #merry fanfiction #merry x y/n #merry x you #merry fic #merry fanfic #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #boromir #pippin #boromir and his hobbits

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generallynerdy · 4 years

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At Home (Elrond X F!Reader)

Summary: And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

Requested by @lovinghufflepuffgirl: Hello, I believe this my first time requesting and I am so excited! My request is (if possible): Elrond courting the reader (she's a high born elf and a princess) and they fall in love. A grand wedding soon follows. Thank you so much!

Key: (Y/N) - your name, Imladris - the Sindarin (the more common Elf-tongue) name for Rivendell, fëar - souls/spirits in Quenya (the older, rarer Elf-tongue of High Elves) Warnings: cursing in the author’s note as usual, my sister and I made Tolkien-selves once and Elrond was my dad so this was really weird at first but I got over it, the Evenstar is from the movies and it has a sort of book equivalent but I didn’t want to leave out movie-only fans so pre-warning for book fans Word Count: 3,495 WOW. W O W. I have NO self control.

Note: technically speaking you could swap (Y/N) with Celebrian and this would be canon LMAO. Anyway, I made the reader Galadriel and Celeborn’s daughter since to my understanding Elves don’t have princesses? (I haven’t finished reading all Tolkien’s Arda things so I may be wrong, pls let me know if I am.) ALSO UH. This is the longest request I’ve written in,,,so long holy shit. This spiralled. I am so sorry.

Imladris was beautiful, (Y/N) decided. After a mere few days there, she was certain she could live there for the rest of her exceedingly long life.

As the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, (Y/N) was of High Elven blood, which many assumed meant that she was accustomed to a certain...luxurious lifestyle. In reality, she had spent much of her life in Lothlórien longing to be elsewhere. The forests of her home were beautiful, she had no doubt of that, but something in her wanted to be elsewhere.

And, frankly, Imladris felt like that elsewhere.

It was here she felt safe, here that she spent hours wandering the gardens, something she had hardly ever bothered to do before.

It was also here that a certain Elf Lord lived.

Lord Elrond was about (Y/N)’s age, relatively young-- for an Elf-- and a good leader, in (Y/N)’s humble opinion. He was respectful, well-spoken, and, well, handsome.

The very moment (Y/N) met him, she received a knowing, teasing glance from both of her parents. It took every ounce of will the Elf maiden had to keep herself from either turning bright red or outright flirt with Elrond.

Despite her excellent first impression of him, she wasn’t quite certain he thought the same of her. He’d hardly spoken a word to her beyond pleasantries.

She would be offended, but he was a busy man and for that she could not blame him.

(Y/N) was lucky enough to have a clear schedule. She used most of her time exploring Imladris and found what she believed was going to be her favourite place: a balcony carved into the mountains that overlooked the entire city, a waterfall tumbling nearby. There, she sat on the railing, letting her legs hang over the side despite the danger.

“Might I join you, my lady?”

She startled at the voice, but was smart enough not to jolt before she glanced back. “At your leisure, Lord Elrond. This is your home, after all.”

The man that had yet to leave her thoughts since her arrival was standing there, remarkably relaxed for someone who'd been hosting the Elves of Lorien. The distant setting sun landed on his raven hair, bringing (Y/N)'s attention to it before her gaze slipped to his eyes. Often, the few humans she met spoke of the knowledge the Elves held and how it manifested in their eyes; how they had something beyond in them, how the years they'd lived always seemed plain in their irises. She'd never really understood it until she saw him, saw the wisdom his hundreds of years gave him. It was a funny thing, she thought, that their age would show in their eyes of all things. His were lovely.

Elrond moved to join her at the edge, allowing himself to sit on the railing almost sideways. His feet did not hang over the edge as (Y/N)'s did, but the idea that he'd already followed her so far made her smile.

"I had no desire to interrupt your thoughts," he added quietly as he made himself comfortable.

She knew he was fishing, curious as to what had brought her here. It amused her like nothing else. "Oh, I'm hardly preoccupied. I'm simply...admiring. Your realm is beautiful."

He raised his eyebrows. "High praise from a Lady of Lorien."

"Believe me, the forests of my home are a sight like none other, but this place..." She let out a deep, awed breath. "I have not the words for it. I find myself lost in its sights. I've done nothing these last days but explore, yet I feel there is still so much more to find."

His chuckle surprised her. "I thought the same when I found it. It's why I settled here, after all. I couldn't tear my eyes away. You find it to your liking, then?"

"I adore it," she declared. "Especially the waterfalls. They're almost...other-worldly, as odd as that may sound."

"Hardly," he said, waving a hand. "Have you passed through the one in the lower gardens? There's a cavern behind it with the most beautiful crystal formations in the walls."

Her eyes widened. "No, I hadn't realised. Which garden did you say?"

"I'll have to show you, I think, it's difficult to find." A smile crossed his face. "If you don't object."

"On the contrary, my lord, I'll hold you to your word," she teased, laughing. Then, she sighed. "I do think I could stay here for the rest of my days, if I had the choice."

A pause.

"You could stay, if you wanted," Elrond said suddenly.

(Y/N) turned to look at him so quickly that it almost hurt. "Pardon?"

The smile on his face was...shy, now, and hesitant. It took everything in her not to gawk at the Lord of Imladris being sheepish.

"You could stay, if you wish. There's too much to see for one visit, I think, but you could always return," he said, glancing out onto the horizon.

"And...you wouldn't mind if I stayed? I wouldn't want to become a nuisance," she murmured, reaching up reflexively to fix a strand of hair.

He looked over and shook his head immediately. "Not at all, my lady." Then, he smiled. "In fact, I would enjoy your company."

She was struck with overwhelming joy. Clearly, he hadn’t thought bad of her at all, a thought that had been nagging her. Maybe-- maybe he even thought of her what she did of him. Perhaps he was interested in her in the same way?

(Y/N) couldn't help a wide smile. "Very well, then, I'll stay. We can't have the mighty Lord Elrond dying of a broken heart, after all."

He laughed, his voice a song to her ears. Sitting there, overlooking the city with him, it occurred to her that, yes, she was right before. She could stay here for the rest of her life and be perfectly happy.

Many months later, (Y/N) had taken residence in Imladris permanently. (Of course, the lives of Elves were long and she knew not to take her welcome for granted, so many of her belongings still remained in Lothlórien.)

She'd explored much of the city by now, though there were always little things to discover. Many of her days were spent with Elrond, so many in fact that she was practically taking part of Lindir's job. The poor man didn't mind at all-- he was glad to have someone helping, actually.

Especially when it came to Elrond and his habits. (Y/N) found out quickly that he tended to bury himself in his work, regardless of what the work was. She decided, much to Lindir’s amusement, that it was her job to keep him from getting buried alive.

"My lord," she said in a sing-song tone, clearly teasing. "My lord?"

Elrond shot her a dry look from over the edge of his book. He was at his desk in his study, which was covered wall to wall in bookshelves. Lindir hovered by the door, holding back snickers as he watched (Y/N) walk about the desk, almost like she was teasing out a predator; far enough to be safe, but getting dangerously close. The glare they both received only added to the concept.

"This is important business," Elrond drawled. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"You said that many, many moments ago,” she sighed.

"You need to take a break."

"I need to be left alone," he shot back.

She gasped, offended. "Did you hear that, Lindir? How rude."

"How unbecoming of a Lord," her compatriot added, grinning mischievously.

Elrond looked up at both of them with a tired expression. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Not until you die, my dear Elrond," (Y/N) declared decidedly. "Now, let's see...how could I possibly drag you away--"

She cut herself off, snatching the book he held from his hands with the speed of Shadowfax. He made an offended noise, but the deed was done and she waved it about almost gleefully.

"Oh, look! No work now," she said lightly.

"Give it back--"

She smiled brightly. "Or I could--"

"Don't you dare," he very nearly growled, already pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

"I dare!" she laughed, already darting toward the door. "How rude of you! You are chasing a lady of Lorien!"

"I am chasing a nuisance!" he huffed, chasing after her. "And a threat to my crown!"

The laugh she barked out was almost uncivilized, but she masked it by slipping behind Lindir, using him almost as a human shield. Meanwhile, Lord Elrond stood opposite her, frowning and no doubt trying to use Lindir to his advantage.

"Did you hear that, Lindir?” she asked once more. “I'm a threat to his crown!"

"I can hardly believe it, my lady," he replied dryly.

Elrond made a grab for the book, but she ducked away at the last moment, making a run for the door.

"You'll have to catch me, my lord!" she cackled, very glad that she'd chosen comfortable shoes that morning.

He was right on her heels. "You'll regret this!"

Left behind, Lindir sighed and rolled his eyes, now that he was no longer in respectable company. "One of these days they'll realise this isn't normal."

Outside, in the streets of the city, it was thankfully too dark and too late for anyone to witness Lord Elrond chase Lady (Y/N) building to building, garden to garden. She led him right to the lowermost garden, where he'd shown her the cavern beyond the waterfall weeks and weeks ago. Once there, she quickened her pace and ducked behind a tree to hide.

(Y/N) tried to keep her heaving breaths quiet, peeking around the trunk every few moments.

She frowned when he didn't seem to follow. He'd just...disappeared, really. Looking in the direction from whence she came, she took a step back and shrieked when she hit someone's chest.

Strong arms wrapped around her, but not in a way that was restrictive; she could fight her way out if she wanted. Elrond's rumbling laughter came from deep within his chest. (Y/N) felt it more than heard it as he grabbed his book from her hand. She burst into near-childish giggles.

"I believe this is mine," Elrond hummed.

When she could breathe again, she turned in his hold and hit his chest good-naturedly. "That was terrifying!"

"I thought it would make us even," he said, the smile on his face worth every second of fear.

(Y/N) realised abruptly how close they were, mere inches apart, really. It didn't help that she was still breathing heavily from their chase, something he mimicked as well. His smile fell and his expression became...not solemn, but thoughtful.

"Is my distraction working?" (Y/N) asked, tilting her head slightly.

He chuckled. "Thoroughly." His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, then back up again.

(Y/N) felt her heart in her chest. For months they'd danced around each other, always thinking but never acting. She was so unbelievably fond of this man, this place, this feeling. It never seemed to leave her alone and yet she'd never done anything about it. Her mother had urged her repeatedly to ask to court him, but it always felt...early.

Elrond let out a sharp breath. "May I--?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, already knowing what his question was.

He leaned forward and slanted his mouth against hers, taking away what little air she had left in her lungs. His touch was unbearably gentle and curious, always curious. (Y/N) had never experienced anything quite like it, she thought. It was remarkably like her first day in Imladris.

When they finally pulled apart, she let out a soft laugh, which he echoed. He pulled her closer, closer still, and held her, resting his forehead against hers. And they stayed there, in the garden, comfortably silent.

Months went by and slipped into years. The time that passed was mere moments in the life of an Elf, yet (Y/N)'s days in Imladris had never felt longer. Each one was a new adventure, a new experience, and to get to live it by Elrond's side was a blessing.

They began officially courting some time after the garden incident, which Lindir was grateful for. (According to him, their 'pining' was becoming insufferable. (Y/N) had no idea what he was talking about.) Elrond wore the Evenstar, a family heirloom gifted to him by his new partner, while (Y/N) had a circlet of silver to match his own, which he'd had specifically made for her.

It was a slow, comfortable sort of thing, a pace both of them were comfortable with.

Some days, though, (Y/N) felt as though the courtship was pointless. They were practically married as it was, living together and ruling together, in most ways. Elrond had insisted on her becoming comfortable as a lady of Imladris, simply to see if she would enjoy it at all, and she'd fit into the role quite well. The two were, essentially, already settled into a life together.

(Y/N)'s parents thought the same from what she could gather from their letters. Her father, at least, was insisting on a wedding soon, but her mother was far more patient. Celeborn had always been fond of ceremonies, but (Y/N) begged him to wait. She didn't want to push Elrond, not with how busy he always was.

Every week, another letter would come in the mornings by messenger and, every week, she would write a letter back.

One week, however, she didn't receive a letter.

"You're certain?" she asked the messenger.

"Yes, my lady," he replied nervously. "I have no letter for you, only two for my Lord Elrond. I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Odd. Here, I'll take them. He's out with a hunting party."

He handed over the letters, which she took graciously. Biting her lip, (Y/N) was almost tempted to read them when she recognised her mother's handwriting on the outside of both letters. She stopped herself, though, reminding herself that it could be official White Council business. (That was one of the few things she had yet to get involved with.)

Still, it made her smile, seeing her partner's name written in her mother's script. He was fitting in with her family as well as she was fitting in with his home.

A storm of horse's hooves against stone echoed across the city. (Y/N) smiled to herself. Speak of the devil...

Turning on her heel, she watched Elrond ride up to her on his faithful steed, covered head to toe in shining, beautifully crafted armour. He smiled fondly at the sight of her, coming to stop just beside her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dearest?" he asked, preparing to dismount. "You never greet me upon arrival."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to embrace you with the armour and you know it. A messenger from Lorien arrived this morning with two letters for you. From my mother."

His eyes widened. "Oh. I hadn't realised-- one moment--"

He dismounted from his horse, his hesitation making (Y/N) frowned. As soon as he was on the ground, he removed his gauntlets and took the letters, opening the first envelope curiously. When he looked up to see (Y/N) watching him, he smiled.

“I would ask you not to worry, but I know it’s pointless,” he teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Since I’ve come here, my mother has never neglected to write to me, but the one time she does, she writes two letters to you. Care to explain, dearest?”

Elrond chuckled. “Momentarily.”

Pulling out the first letter, he skimmed over its content. Something in the letter caught his eye and suddenly he was beaming, his smile brighter than the sun.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, voice tinged with concern. “What is it?”

Abruptly, he handed her the second letter. She went to rip it open, but he stopped her. “Ah, wait.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ll break your fingers.”

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “Humour me?”

“Fine,” she sighed.

Much to (Y/N)’s surprise, he led her away from the main road of the city and down a familiar path. She laughed when she realised they were headed for the lowermost garden, the place he’d kissed her for the first time, the place he’d spoken of the very first time they’d met. Elrond muttered something about wanting to get rid of his armour, but when she asked, he waved her off.

Finally, he seemed pleased when they found a small stone bridge over a deep creek, a place shaded by trees with a waterfall nearby.

Elrond turned to her and took both of her hands in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. (Y/N) eyed him curiously. She appreciated the gesture, but her curiosity was eating at her. What could her mother have possibly said that prompted this?

“(Y/N),” he called gently, gaining her attention.

“Hm?”

She smiled when he reached out, taking a gentle hold of her chin.

“You have become as much a home to me as this city is,” he murmured, his thumb running up and down the length of her jawline. “Anything you’d ask of me, I would do it.”

She shook her head. “Elrond--”

“I know you would never ask for anything unreasonable and I love you all the more for it,” he added quickly. “And I do love you, more than anything. I don’t think I can imagine living as long as I will without you here.”

“Neither can I,” she admitted with a little laugh.

“(Y/N) of Lorien,” he breathed out, taking both of her hands again, “I humbly ask for your hand: your life, your love. I ask that you make Imladris your home, that you stay at my side for as long as the both of us are on this land and beyond.”

(Y/N) exhaled shakily. “Oh...oh, my Elrond,” she said, moving to cup his head in her hands. “I’m already home. You never had to ask.”

She initiated the kiss, capturing his lips with hers and pulling him close. The way he responded, clutching the material of his dress, was almost a thing of relief. He was weightless, so weightless, standing there with her. And (Y/N) felt the same, felt at home here, in ways she never had in the forests of her birth.

Elrond was the first to pull away. “I had to ask your parents,” he said, laughing.

“I’m going to kill them,” she hissed, though she didn’t mean it for a second.

When he pulled her back into his arms, she let herself breathe in and breathe out, her lungs filling with the sweet smell of safety and of love.

Weddings weren’t as ceremonial to Elves as they were to Men. Yes, the ceremony was still a beautiful thing and the respective families attended as best they could manage, but it didn’t take nearly as long to plan.

As soon as (Y/N)’s parents arrived, they were ready to go.

(Y/N) donned her best fabrics, just as Elrond did, and met her father, who would escort her to her soon-to-be husband.

Because Elrond was lord of his people, there were many, many Elves in attendance, which made (Y/N) nervous. However, from the moment she spotted her beloved Elrond, the crowd melted away and a smile came across her face.

He was speaking quietly with her mother, who held the strips of fabric that would symbolically bind them to each other. But he looked up and saw her, his entire demeanor seeming to shift. He was lighter, all of a sudden, and his eyes shined. Her heart ached to stand with him, to hold his hands and tell him she loved him.

Soon enough, she was standing with him, her father standing dutifully beside his wife.

Her mother smiled softly at both of them, but (Y/N) couldn��t draw her eyes away from her partner. Elrond was the same, the twinkle in his eyes saying what he couldn’t.

“Elrond Peredhel, (Y/N) of Lorien, today the Valar will witness a binding of your fëar,” her mother said.

She lifted the white fabric and motioned for them to hold out their hands. When they did so, (Y/N) grasping Elrond’s with a breath of relief, she wrapped it around both of them, binding them together.

“And with this, the two of you are bound, forever promised, on these shores and beyond. May you live and love without fear, without darkness.”

As one, (Y/N) and Elrond spoke; “On these shores and beyond.”

And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond fanfic #elrond oneshot #lotr #elrond #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #lotr oneshot #elrond peredhel #rivika #river #generallynerdy #request #at home

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angelskyladiana · 5 years

Text

Mrs Black- Victor Zsasz

FULL MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 3: THE SPY

Summary: Before there was Zsasz, there was Victor. Before there was a murderer, there was a businessman. Before his insanity, he had her, but under unforeseen events they were separated and that’s where his madness began. Will he find her once more? Will she be able to save him before he falls into lunacy? In a world under the thumb of a mysterious woman, can they escape her? Or will Mrs Black have the last laugh?

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 1348

————

CHAPTER 2

The dark clouds loomed over the city, it was about night time now and at this moment sirens began to scream.

"No I won't be gone long darling, just the next three days at most," The young woman spoke into the phone as she walked to the door of the limo waiting for her, a hefty man opening the door for her immediately, "Yes I know. I promise," She continued, the other voice was so quiet that the man who opened her door and was now in the driver's seat, couldn't hear a peep from the other side, "I have to go my love, but I'll call you later today I promise. Alright, have a good day then. Bye," She finally finished, hanging up the call soon after and placing the device in her lap.

"Everything alright ma'am?" The driver questioned she looked up at him from the phone with a beaming smile.

"Yes, thank you. I apologize for my rudeness, Stolz,"

"Not at all," He spoke lightly, fixing his rear view mirror, looking into her deep, dark eyes through the reflection, "where to, Mrs Mávros?"

She smiled at his use of Mrs rather than Miss and as if on cue her phone buzzed in her lap, she flipped it over, seeing it was from Lorien; He's meeting Aubrey James at Giovanni's on 3rd Street in an hour. Her eyes narrowed at the text, she knew that restaurant, she had been there many times and it used to be a hotspot for her when she was a child. "Giovanni's. On 3rd street," She spoke aloud.

"No problem, Mrs Mávros," Mr Stolz spoke before starting the car and driving off the runway and pulling out onto the main road. Her phone buzzed once more; He's currently staying at 14 Ethridge Road.

She typed back a pleased reply, her eyes flickering from the screen to look out the window at the dark city of Gotham. It really hadn't changed much, the building were the same, the amount of homeless people was the same and the overall aura that clouded this city would never change. But did she really want it to change? The city was easy to control from the shadows and the Madame had done it for years, she had industries throughout the world and billions at her fingertips but the control of this city from the darkness was most important.

The car pulled up out the front of Giovanni's restaurant, its dark exterior lit by the red neon sign above the entry. It hadn't changed either. Stolz parked the car and walked speedily to her door, quickly opening it and extending a hand inside the car towards her. She uttered a thank you as she stood from out of the car, waiting for him to shut the door before walking in.

The bell at the door chimed as Brandt Stolz pushed in the door from behind the young woman. The brown-haired lady sashayed over to the reception desk and lightly tapped the silver bell, causing a waiter to snap their head towards her.

He quickly scampered over to the desk after noticing the gorgeous features of the woman behind it. His hands shook as he approached, getting lost in her eyes as he breathed a staggering breath, "Hey- hi how can I help you this fine night?"

She smirked but stayed quiet, icy orbs glaring into his and as if he was a fly in a spider's web, he couldn't tear them away from her. Her buff driver sauntered up beside her causing the man to tear his eyes from the small thing beside him, "Reservation. Mávros," He grunted.

The waiter was visibly sweating through his white shirt as he looked between the two in confusion but one look from the massive man and never had a person moved so quickly, "Mávros. Of course, sir!"

The two were soon directed to a table in the corner out the back of the restaurant, as they strutted past. To anyone who saw the pair, they would believe Stolz to be a man of power or possible mobster and the woman beside him to be some floozy or perhaps a gold digger, bystanders would never guess who was really calling the shots.

As a gentleman and good employee would, he pulled out her chair and tucked it in as she sat down before seating himself. "What now, Miss?" He questioned.

"We wait. Do you like wine, Stolz?" She enquired, smirking at her acquaintance.

His face lit up which looked foreign against his features, Stolz' eyes shinning as he spoke casually to the usually uptight Mrs Mávros, "Are we on first name basis tonight, Miss?"

"Why not? So red or white Brandt?"

He chuckled slightly, "red goes best with Italian food... Scarlett" he almost blushed.

"Good choice." She agreed, soon he ordered the wine and then they ordered food and to the outside world they might even look like a couple on a date, they blended in completely to the atmosphere; exactly what they wanted.

The bell on the door chimed as the penguin hobbled in through the door, a grin present on his red, pointed face as he scanned the room. His beady eyes soon landing on the chubby, balding man sitting in the centre of the restaurant chowing down on a plate of pasta.

The Penguin limped over to the previous mayor, supporting himself with his decorative cane, the smile not once leaving his face. He sat down opposite Aubrey James. "A public place. Smart." He remarked, but Aubrey James didn't pay him any attention.

"Knowing your flare for the dramatic, I felt it necessary." He pronounced looking unbothered and unfazed by the criminal in front of him.

Oswald scoffed, a slight chuckle escaping his throat, "How flattering. But why exert myself needlessly?" He questioned the unenthusiastic man, "the public sees me as a man of action, of change. You... You are yesterday's sad joke." Aubrey James looked up at the Penguin in annoyance, finally giving him the attention the bird craved. "While Galavan humiliated this city, where were you? In a warehouse with a box on your head,"

"You're an unstable lunatic, Penguin, and people are going to see right through you. I've got the judges, the unions, the GCPD, and a whole team of legal experts behind me. What do you got?" He challenged.

"I have me."

Aubrey James laughed loudly in his face, "You're psychotic!" he hollered, causing Oswald to stand in outrage. Immediately three guns from wait staff were pointed at his head, the restaurant went quiet, the only sounds heard were that of whimpers and slight shrieks of fear. Oswald looked around peeved, "Not this time, Penguin. My head will not be put in a box again,"

A smile broke out on his face, his lips curling in satisfaction, "Oh, you. So smart. Always one step ahead," He pointed directly at the previous mayor before the sounds of many more guns echoed around the room at the click of Oswald's fingers, soon all were pointed at Aubrey James and his associates heads, "never three. Relax. I do not want you dead. Besides, what kind of fun would an election be if I were the only candidate, huh?" He quizzed in delight, pulling out a badge and sticking it on Aubrey's suit jacket. "You're right about one thing, though. I do need a little help, and I have just the right person in mind." He grinned as the man looked up at him in fear and confusion. Oswald Cobblepot grinned widely and maliciously, a laugh echoing from his throat at the upstage of Aubrey James. Little did he know of the two sets of eyes watching every move he made from the corner of the restaurant, dark lips curved upwards.

Enticing.

CHAPTER 4

#VICTOR ZSASZ #wife #Gotham #gcpd #oc #son #fanfiction #batman

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art-of-a-diffrent-color · 5 years

Text

The Passing of Arwen Undomiel

When Aragorn dies, Arwen retires to Lorien. Their son is grown and she will visit, but Minas Tirith no longer holds the same alure that it once did. The woods are much as she remembers them - soaring in their height, all Golden and beautiful. But she is keenly aware of the absence of the Ring of power that for so long kept the woods unchanging. Even more strongly does she feel the absence of her kin. What was once a courtyard that always held one elf or another now sits empty.

She has her pick of chambers, from the most grand to the humble. But she chooses her old bed to sleep in out of a since of familiarity. This room she knows, and while some of the memories it brings back are sad, most are peaceful.

It is three days into her stay that she realizes she is not alone. Although her hair has begun to grey at the temples, and the wrinkles around her eyes stand as testimony to her mortality, her hearing and sight is as sharp as the day she was born.

That morning, Arwen is walking the paths, visiting memories as they come to her, smiling at the fond ones, acknowledging the sad. Ahead of her, a shadow catches her eye, and it takes a moment to realise that it is in fact a person. The figure, seeming to realise they have been spotted, darts around a tree, their long dark hair trailing after them. Surprised, the ageing queen gives chase. But no matter how fast she moves, the person stays one step ahead of her.

Weeks pass, and Arwen does not encounter her shadow figure again. Untill one day she rounds the corner leading to the edge of the stream and there they are. Dark against the golden woods, the elf holds themselves with an air of regality. When they turn around, their face is not one Arwen recognises from her life. But the star on his chest, black against the sliver of his robes, is one that any elf would know.

"Like Luthien returned." The elf before her hums as he looks at Arwen, before smiling.

"But you have your mothers eyes."

Her eyebrows scrunch, trying to fit a name to the elf.

"Won't you join me my Lady?"

Throughout her long life many of her kin had warned her of the horrible acts done by those who wore the star of Fëanor on their breast. Those same elves would surly warn her against sitting at the edge of a river with one. But well does she remember the stories told to her by her father: Of warriors bound to their word, loving and feirce, who taught two boys to fight and sing, taught them the arts of healing and of state craft. Who loved them, and were loved in return, dispite the horrors they had done.

So she sits and waits. She has lived this long, what difference will a hand full of minutes make?

It is an hour before the elf beside her talks.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"But you have your suspicions?"

Arwen inclines her head.

"The star of Fëanor is not lightly worn by any of the first born." The elf laughs, it is a musical thing that makes the water ripple and the leaves on the ground dance.

"Yet you still sit with me."

"My grandfather wore the star,"

"Your grandfather is Sinderian."

"Not on the side of my father."

The silver clad elf falls silent again, lost in thought, and while Arwen does not learn the name of her companion, she thinks she could make an educated guess.

After that day, they meet in different places around Lorien. One day he joins her for a meal, and from then on it becomes a ritual.

Some months later the two have finished supper, and Arwen begins to hum a song. The notes slip past her lips without any form of words, just the melody that her father would sing to her. Beside her, her companion picks up the tune:

"No i elena, i thár na- tond.

Bo i orod plual ered ennas na- híth.

Bo i gaer na- a gir,

a ha tul- mui emel na nin.

Hen fin na- dúr, hen mind na- galad.

He na- dínen in i dú.

Im darth- an manui ennin,

na govannon- mui emel no gilgalad."

The world around them is still, as if it is holding it's breath to better hear the song. His voice is beautiful, and now Arwen knows that the stories about it do not do it justice.

"Father always said you could make the world pause with only your voice,"

The Elf beside her pauses, considering his next words.

"Your father loved that song," He looks over at her. "They both did."

Arwen scoots closer to the elf.

"Would you sing another one Grandfather?"

Maglor smiles down at her, brown eyes shining with what look to be tears.

"Of course little star,"

Years pass and the splendor of Lorien fades, Arwens hair changes from ebony to white. It is during a cold winter that she passes into the hands of Mandos.

That night a lament is sung to the dying forest by a dark haired elf. The last of his kind who weeps for his family, and the world stops to listen.

____________________________________________

Under the stars, the grass is tall.

On the mountain there is fog.

On the sea is a ship,

and it bring my heart to me.

Her hair is dark, her mind is light.

She is silent in the night.

I will wait for many years,

to meet my heart under starlight.

#lord of the rings #lotr #arwen #arwen undomiel #maglor #the silmarillion #feanor feels #i should be sleeping #but i wanted mags to have some time with at least one of his grandkids #kinda sad #son of feanor #last son of feanor

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