I am a fan of the works of Tolkien, I focus more of the Silmarillion and such works.
Q: What will/do you post about?
A: am a fanfic author. I have written many works on AO3 that I am quite proud of. I also write original works, but those will not be posted about here.
Q: What does your name mean?
A: Hiril Laeriel. It means Lady Laeriel. Laeriel means many crowned stars. At least that is how I have come to know it.
Q: What are your pronouns?
A: She/her
Q: What's your favorite song?
A: It fluctuates frequently. At the time of posting this it is "Bit of Love" by John Michael Howell. I hope I will be able to look back and reacquaint myself with this song later.
Q: What/Who is your favorite thing about your fandom?
A: The Peredhel. I absolutely adore Elrond. He's my favorite. You will learn that he hates being my favorite and why.
Celeborn scoffs. If Maglor is going to be petty and ask him for stupid things he should at least get a thanks. “Yell if there's orcs.” He trudges off to check on their supplies.
“Hey! Wait! Not even a knife?”
“I’m not arming a kinslayer!” Celeborn yells back at him.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/53994838
Celeborn decides that enough is enough and he is mending what is left of this broken family.
Elrond stumbles upon a garden in one of Tirion's many gardens. What he finds there shocks him.
Rating: G
Elrond had been enjoying his day of peace and quiet, taking a stroll through the gardens of Tirion, exploring his new home. Finrod, his uncle - and wasn't that an odd thing to think about, having the historical figure standing in front of him, talking to him, and calling him family - was explaining to Elrond all the different plants that were growing here and why. There were carefully tended pools of sea plants dotting the garden showering the garden in color, flowers bloomed unhindered by stones.
“- And of course we have Queen Miriel’s garden.” Finrod says as he gestures at an archway. “It's different.”
Elrond moves to the arch to peer inside and freezes. “Oh.”
Finrod is there immediately. “Is it okay? Do you think he would have liked it?” He worries. “Do… Do you like it?”
Elrond feels a lump already forming in his throat. He steps into the garden in a daze. “I…” He stumbles towards the statues. “Who made this?”
“Aunt Nerdanel. She insisted it be here, and well, no one could really say no.”
Elrond's breath stutters and he tries to calm himself as he lifts a hand to caress the statue's face. “Elros…”
“Is it… Is it okay?” Finrod worries. “We weren't sure if it would be okay…”
“It's wonderful, Findarato.” Elrond shudders as he presses his forehead against the cool stone. “When I left Middle-Earth I thought I’d be leaving the last of his memory. I had a statue in my garden that had been there since I built Imladris. It was the first of the non-essentials made. I-” Elrond chokes. “It's perfect. How did she know what he looked like?”
“Vairë’s tapestries, I believe.”
“Where does she live?”
“Ehm, I can take you, if you wish.”
“Please. I need- I need to thank her.”
"Perhaps tomorrow. She prefers a warning before having guests."
"Of course." Elrond says in a daze as he traces the statues features, the small wrinkles at the corner of his brother's eyes from smiling so much, the stern expression of a king set forever in stone.
“Elrond?” Turgon calls worriedly as he sees a teary eyed Elrond walking towards the castle. “Are you alright?”
Elrond doesn't respond and pushes past him towards Celebrian.
Finrod is the one to explain to the worried relatives. “He found Miriel’s garden.”
“Oh.” Turgon rubs his face. “Is he mad?”
“No. Delighted, shocked, and sad. He thought he was going to have to leave the memory of his brother behind when he sailed. I believe that he loves it. He wishes to speak with Aunt Nerdanel though. I got him to delay the visit until tomorrow so that we can tell her to expect guests. His manners forced him to agree.”
Turgon nods. “Stay with him, I’ll go drop in on her and tell her. The Iluvatar only knows how much Elrond doesn't like me.”
“It's not that he doesn't like you, Turgon. It's that looking at you reminds him of what he believes he can never have.” Galadriel sighs.
“What can Elrond not have? No one would withhold anything from him.”
“Family. He can't have his family.” Galadriel looks at her son-in-law mournfully. “I’ll go talk to Aunt Nerdanel. I have to commission another statue from her. Their daughter chose mortality.”
“Oh… Oh.” Turgon sighs. “I got to keep my family, Idril and Tuor were allowed to live together forever and he has to lose everyone to it. Tuor who was fully mortal. Oh Elrond…”
Galadriel pats her cousin's shoulder in comfort as she brushes past them and down into the streets of Tirion. She had an aunt to find and a statue to commission.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Hi!! Would you like to do #9 from your suck-less list with Fëanor?
Write a story where one character thinks they’re meeting for the first time and the other doesn’t
The new shade was confused.
He looked down at himself and saw very little, even as his brain told him he should be seeming soot-smeared armor and - for a moment - a good deal of clotted gore. Then he realized there was no ‘himself.’ This made the existence of ‘his brain’ all the more disorienting. Tired and lost, he looked around the vast and echoing Halls and wondered whom he was supposed to ask for help.
“I know,” said a voice. “Not even a ‘you are here’ sign. Totally unhelpful.”
Another shade was beside him then, and he looked to it hopefully. “Why am I here?”
“You’re dead,” it said, not unkindly.
“Oh,” said the new shade. “Did it hurt?”
“I imagine quite a lot,” said the older shade. “By damn. Quite a lot. A dramatic exit, you had, and I should know. But he limps now, did you see?”
“Who? No, I don’t care,” said the new shade. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”
“You’re here because you are dead,” said the veteran. “I am here because I am too.”
“Is it just the two of us?”
“What? No, of course not. There are many thousands of other souls here. But when you arrive He doens’t have you see them all at once. Thinks it’s overwhelming, or something.”
“But I can see you,” said the new shade, a little wearily. “Why is that?”
“He sometimes thinks it’s helpful if you can see a few folk you knew in life,” said the veteran. “Can’t imagine why, but-”
“So we knew each other?”
“Must have,” said the other.
“Oh,” said the new shade. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. What now?”
“Now, I suppose,” said the elder. “You heal.”
“How does one do that?”
“It takes some time,” acknowledged the other. “But there’s no rush.”
“Can I rest a little first?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” said the new shade, relieved. And then, because habits died slower than bodies did, “And you - I mean, I’m sure it’s safe here. But if I took a short rest - would you keep an eye out? Make sure nothing happens?”
For some reason the idea of Elros just coming around to visit Feanor and sons in the Void is not leaving me be. Like on his way to Iluvatar he makes a pitstop or something, I dunno.
"Hello." A voice out of the darkness sends them all into high alert.
"Who's there?" Feanor calls, pulling his sons closer.
"Elros."
Maedhros gasps. "Elros?! No. No. What are you doing here, pityo? Tell em you didn't-"
"No. Atya- Maedhros-" Elros sighs roughly. "No. I am mortal, I just wanted to- " He sighs again. "I missed you."
"Oh. Elros..."
"I wanted to say hello, and goodbye, for I am to go onwards to Iluvatar as all mortals do."
"Mortal... Pityo... Elrond?"
"Elrond walks the path of the elves, he and I are now forever separated." Elros sighs tiredly at the thought of his twin. "Well, when you get out - no not if, when - when you get out will you tell him I miss him? That I love him?"
"Yes." Maedhros promises easily.
"Thank you." Elros smiles. "I love you, atya. Tell Maglor that too, when you see him."
"I will."
And as quickly as he came Elros is gone and an overwhelming sorrow overcomes Maedhros for the loss of one of the twins, one of his foster sons, his son. "I love you too, Elros." Maedhros whispers into the darkness. "I love you, yonya."
Maglor steps away from the counter to go sit down. Coffee. He needed coffee. Well, he needed caffeine. He was so tired.
He was very old, older than the sun, and his age was becoming very prominent now in the modern days of this world. Forever youthful as the world passes him by. Immortality was a curse now. He couldn't just hide out alone and pretend everything was okay; there were no longer places to hide. Men, or humans as they now preferred to be called, had explored nearly every inch of the world.
"Can I sit here?"
Maglor glances up. A woman was standing in front of him with a hand outstretched towards the empty seat across from him. "Sure."
She sits with a sigh. A aigh that only comes from sitting down after a long time on your feet.
"Long day?" Maglor asks, trying to make conversation so that it wouldn't grow awkward.
"Yeah. I just got off work. Getting a pick me up before I head home to my kids."
Maglor mentally sighs. "Oh?" He tugs anxiously at his beanie. He had gotten the hat to hide his ears, they were so prominent and would have gotten him killed by now if he hadn't learned to cover them up. Escaping the witch trials had been a nightmare.
"Yeah, twins."
Maglor coughs. "Twins?"
"Henry and Adam. I love them, but they're a pain."
Maglor can't help himself, "Yeah, my boys used to be like that too."
"You have kids?"
"Just the two, Amos and Amon. They're twins."
"Aw, how old are they?"
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen?! You don't look old enough to have teenagers."
"Ah, yeah, they were adopted. They're my cousins, technically. They're mother couldn't take care of them so my brother and I stepped forward."
"Well, that was very kind of you." She pauses. "Any tips for dealing with twins?"
"Don't feel bad if you need a break. Parents need breaks with one kid and you have two. It's not wrong to get overworked and burnt out. Hire a babysitter or ask a friend to watch them. You need to relax too."
She laughs. "Thanks."
"Order for Ambrose!" The barista calls out.
Maglor looks up. "That's me." He declares before standing up.
"Ambrose…" The woman sighs. "Nice choice."
Maglor turns back to her. "Huh?"
"I said that's a nice name. Does your family have a naming scheme? Ambrose, Amos, and Amon?"
"Yeah, we like themes. My dad and uncles all have 'Fin' in their names."
"That must get confusing."
"Extremely." Maglor agrees. He remembers once when Tyelko called their uncle Nolo Naro. How he mixed up his uncle and father Maglor would never understand.
"Well, my name is Astracira." The woman smiles. She glances over Maglor. "I, uh, I like your hat."
"Oh." Maglor feels extremely awkward. "I got it from a friend." He glances at where his coffee sat on the counter waiting to be picked up. "I should go. I have places to be."
Astracira stands up. "I should go too, can't leave them too long. The babysitter starts charging extra if I am not prompt. Don't really blame her."
"But your coffee." Maglor gestures at the counter.
"You can have it." Astracira smiles at him. "You look like you need a few hundred more."
Maglor sighs. "It's been a long… life."
"I can tell." Astracira nods before she hurries out the door.
Maglor doesn't bother paying attention to which way she goes. He approaches the counter to get his drink.
The barista sets another drink down next to his. "Your girlfriend's drink is ready."
"She's not- she's not my girlfriend."
"Wife then."
"No "
"Huh. Well she specified that she was getting the drink for you so I figured you were together." She shrugs. "Whatever."
Maglor picks up Astracira's drink. He looks at the label to see what's in it - he had started to cut out dairy, the processed stuff messes with his stomach - and nearly has a heart attack. Elwing was neatly scrawled where the customer's name was supposed to be.
Elwing. It couldn't be. It was impossible. But was it? Yes, yes it was. Why would she come to buy Maglor a drink and have a nice relatively normal chat? She wouldn't. But then… This couldn't be a coincidence. That name was too specific.
Maglor glances out the shop's front window. "Elwing…" He whispers in shock. Now that he was thinking about it he did see her in that woman, the facial structure was all Lúthien. He glances back down at the order ticket. Huh, no milk. In fact, it was made just how he liked it. How odd.
Tags: foresight, death, canonical character death, Implied death, grief/mourning
Characters: Miriel, Nerdanel, Galadriel, Maglor, Maedhros, Elrond, Elros, and Gil-Galad
Trigger warnings: Death, suicide
“Worry does not take away tomorrow’s troubles, it takes away today’s peace.”
-Unknown
The ability to see the future is often seen as a gift. A gift to those who wield it. It is not. To see the future is a curse. To see those you love die is a fate far worse than most can imagine. To be able to see it and not be able to do anything about it, to never be able to see or say anything, is a fate worse than death. To see their smiling faces and know what dark fate they shall soon face. That is the worst experience.
Miriel did not have the gift of foresight, per say, but she did see the future. She was Doomed to weave the tapestries telling of the fate of her family. Miriel’s fate was a sad one.
She was Doomed to know, but never to help.
Nerdanel hated the so-called gift of foresight, or farsight as it sometimes came to be. She hadn’t always had it, she had been just a simple nis before her insane idiot of a husband swore that damn oath and drove their sons and grandson into the far east. She was only cursed afterwards. At first she saw it as a gift, the ability to see her sons, to watch over them. Then it became a curse. First she saw her husband's death and his dramatic display upon his death, then one by one she watched her sons die. It wasn’t always awful, she enjoyed watching her eldest raise the half-elf twins. She enjoyed seeing them have their moments of joy. Nerdanel hated watching her grandson die. By that point she had already started to go mad herself. One can only take watching the ones they love die so much before something in them cracks. Finally it was just her, her son, and Elrond for her to watch over. For a time there was peace. For a time she could heal.
She was Doomed to see, but never speak.
Galadriel quickly understood that her powers would be her Doom. Her powerful Osanwe and her Mirror, her curiosity would bring about only pain. She could see the future, see her friends die, but even when she tried to interfere nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. It was already set in stone, already put into action. She could do nothing except watch.
She was Doomed to know, but never touch.
Elrond and Elros were quiet children. They spoke little to those besides their mother. They were often found staring at people unnervingly. It was quite creepy how they looked at the stablehands like they were seeing the dead walking. For them they were.
They knew about the downfall of Sirion even at their young age. Unlike most with this Eru forsaken gift they had a natural proclivity to future sight. They were born with this ability. Elrond and Elros knew what would happen, knew these people would die, but did nothing. They intrinsically knew that they could do nothing. It didn’t stop them from caring. They still hated knowing that the nice baker that made them special cookies and snuck them some after dinner would die. They hated that the nice sailor that taught them to swim would drown in the very waters he loved. They hated it all.
Of course Elros hated the Fëanorians for making it happen, he hated his mother for forcing their hands, he hated Morgoth for stealing the damn things in the first place. Elros hated everything. He was an angry ellon. He was quick tempered and lashed out easily. He didn’t like that he couldn’t do anything. He hated being weak.
Elrond still hated these things, but he was calmer than his brother. He forgave easier and was more patient than his short tempered brother. He understood things quicker and made peace with the future quicker. Elrond hated being powerless to help. Instead of lashing out like his brother he sat down and learned. He loved learning. He hoped to be able to save someone someday.
Maglor found the twins adorable. Maedhros found them unnerving. Maglor said that they were just traumatized from the death they had witnessed, but Maedhros did not agree. They looked around with steely indifference. They moved through life as if already knowing what was to come with such certainty… Not even fully grown Eldar had such certainty.
Elrond had never tried to warn someone of their death before, but he had become attached. He tried to warn the brothers of what would happen. He tried to sway Maedhros into a better mindset, he tried to warn Maglor about what his brother would do, but it was for nothing. They still retrieved the Silmarils, They still burned themselves, and Maedhros still jumped into that fiery chasm.
Elrond hated what he knew his brother would choose. He didn’t want his brother to be mortal. He hadn’t exactly seen Elros’s choice, but he had seen the outcome, his death. He had watched that future play out and knew he couldn’t follow his brother down that path. He could, oh how he could, but no, no he couldn’t. He knew what the future held. The future needed him. It needed the people that his brother would sire. It needed them right where they were to go, but that didn’t mean it hurt Elrond any less to leave his brother.
Elrond had once told himself to not get attached, but he always found himself right back where he now was, yelling at his loved one about whatever stupid action would end up getting them killed. Of course no one ever listened. They never believed him. It was stupid. What was the use of seeing the future if he couldn’t help anything?
Elrond knew he probably shouldn’t be avoiding his king. He should be spending these last few moments with his friend. Enjoy them and use every moment he could, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look at Gil-Galad’s face after his latest vision.
“Elrond Peredhel.”
Elrond wanted to bolt. He wanted to flee from the pain.
“Elrond, please, just look at me. Why are you avoiding me? Did I say something? Do something? Please, just tell me so that I can fix it.” Gil-Galad pleaded. “I do not want to go into battle with such uncertainty and strife between us.”
Elrond looked down at the ground to avoid the inevitable action of looking at his friend. His soon to be dead friend. “It’s nothing you’ve said or done, my friend.”
“That’s good.” Gil-Galad sounded relieved. “So it isn’t me. Is there anything I can do to help you? You know I’d do anything for you, Elrond.”
“Everyone always says that, but they never see it through.”
“Whatever do you mean, mellon nin?”
“I’ve tried in the past, but they never listened. I tried to help, tried to stop them. I did, I swear I did. Yet they still left.”
“Left? I’m not going to leave you Elrond!”
Elrond looks back at him and Gil-Galad’s joyous grin falls. Elrond shakes his head.
“You’ve seen my death, haven’t you.”
Elrond nods.
“It’s inevitable, isn’t it.”
Elwond nods again.
“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Honestly, Elrond, I thought you were smarter than that!”
“Will you listen?”
“Elrond, mellon nin, even if you told me I’d still do it. If my death could save any number of people I’d do it over and over again. You know that to be true.” Gil-Galad cups Elrond’s cheek and wipes his tears away with his thumb.
Elrond sobbed. “I know.”
“Elrond, will you at least tell me this? Do we win?”
“Yes.”
“Then it will all be worth it. Do not lose all hope. We shall see eachother again someday. It is not all in vain. Now come, spend these last days with me. Tell me of what will come after my death, please. I would like to be happy if I am to die.”
“Please, stay back?”
“Elrond, I will not stand back and send my men into battle while I cower in my tent. You know I am not like that. If I am to die I will do so in battle with a sword in my hand, fighting against evil, not cowering like a dog.”
Elrond choked. “I just-”
“You don’t want to lose me. I understand. I love you, Elrond, you are my dearest friend. Now as my friend which would you have me do? Die a coward or go down fighting with my men and for what I believe in?”
“I’d rather you not die at all.”
“Elrond.”
“I’d rather you die fighting.”
“Good. Now I need you to understand that. I will never run away from a fight. I stand my ground, even in the face of certain death. I will take as many of those mad bastards down with me as I can.”
Elrond sighs. “Very well.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Elrond. It isn’t fair.”
“Nothing is ever fair.”
Elrond made peace with the fact that the people around him would die. He lived with that knowledge, but he was put at ease with the fact that they’d go do fighting. They’d go do fighting for what they believed in and they’d take down as many of their enemies as they could before doing so. Elrond could live with that fact.
Elrond was Doomed to know, but to be at peace.
Arwen didn’t have as strong of foresight as her father or maternal grandmother. She couldn’t truly see much of anything, she just had feelings or would simply know something would happen. She wasn’t overly troubled with the knowledge of her peoples’ impending deaths. Arwen, unlike her father, didn’t truly have many to fear dying. She was born in a time of peace and even those years she lived through war she knew the tragedies that it would bring. When she saw into the future and saw the darkness, doom, and death she saw them for what they were. She had always had a more mortal mindset to such things. She saw past the despair and on towards the bright futures. Where her forebears just saw death she saw life.
Arwen was Doomed to see the darkness, but to understand.
Sometimes when I want a laugh I imagine that Gil-Galad never died, but Elrond gaslit the entire elven race into thinking they were hallucinating so Gil-Galad just got ignored so hard and was forced into retirement.
I read a fic recently that had Gil-Galad become Gildor and it made me so happy.
