Prompt: Music | Airilin
Synopsis: Even after everything is over, Airilin is still hunting.
Warnings: /
There is song in the water.
Weaving through currents, bouncing between pebbles, rushing down the stream, reaching the ears of those who happen to listen.
There is song in the water.
It beckons to stay, to come closer, to open heart and mind to the presence that lurks in the shadows, watching and waiting. With each note, each droplet of water dripping and flowing, the spell becomes stronger.
There is song in the water.
The Maia is hungry, though his kind needs no sustenance. He craves attention, admiration, the thrill of a successful catch, maybe some trinkets.
· ⊰ synopsis. lúilírë laments over what once was, and what could have been. why did his beloved sea song leave him in favour of darkness?
· ⊰ notes. this is a future outcome to the drabble that my lovely friend @cilil wrote which you can find here
"Look, I spent the whole day diving to find one that is as pretty as you."
"I. . . this is the loveliest gift I have ever received. Thank you."
Blinking away the cloudiness from his pale azure eyes, Lúilírë pushes himself against the chair of his bedroom and lets out a hushed exhale. Discarding the charcoal onto the sheets of parchments where he previously sketched out battle strategies, his arms fall limp over the seat rests.
His head rolls back and he gazes at the intricate designs of the ceiling. Counting lines and deciphering patterns. Hoping to immerse himself in a sea of useless thoughts that will drown out the ocean appearing before his mind's eyes.
The sound of gentle tides crashing against rock. The scent of salt. The feel of tender skin against his. Arms of ardour surrounding him as gentle lips mould into his.
The song of the sea calls to him.
And like the fool he is, he shall always listen.
A soft cloud of air condensate exhales from his lips as he sighs and aimlessly hangs against the chair. It mattered not how sharp Lúilírë's mind was — during days like this, where all he felt was the once comforting touch, saw those sparkling hues and heard that enthralling, honeyed voice, there was no possibility of escaping the past. Nor the memories that flood his mind and clutch his heart like a vice.
What haunted him most was the voice.
The voice of a thousand adoring songs.
The voice of a being once tender.
The voice that once whispered endearments to his ear.
The voice that once. . .
He sucks in a breath at the memory.
— told him that he loved him.
His fingers move on their own will. Gliding up the back of his neck before wrapping around cold mineral. With a small tug, his long, silky blue hair falls down around him. Soft strands framing his eyes and face in an elegant, barely dishevelled manner.
Lúilírë brings his hand forward and opens his palm to observe the object. In his grasp lies a white jade hairpin. Decorated at the end with a few thin chains of silver and gems of sapphire. Set in an arrangement that mimicked a flower. Yet what was the true spectacle of the hairpin was the sphere at the centre. Flat in some areas, round in others and shining with purple, blue and pink undertones against white magnificence.
"I will get you as many as you like. . . Whatever my favourite little pearl's heart desires."
Cold fingers clench around the hairpin subconsciously and Lúilírë finds himself with a break in his otherwise proud or blank expression. Something true. Something raw.
Something broken.
The strategist takes a few moments to stare at the accessory, specifically the pearl of memories at the centre before his eyes flutter shut and his body leans forward.
Once he pulls the hairpin closer, his lips meet the pearl.
As do his tears to the jade.
· ⊰ masterlist.
· ⊰ tip jar.
· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @qwerty-19923 @momoewn @tinkywinky27 @weird-addiction @yonjisu @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @floraroselaughter @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @ashfromvolcanoes
( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡
❝ do you hear it, the song of the sea ?
would you like me to sing for you ? ❞
After introducing Airilin in mini series of fics a couple of months ago, I was finally able to return to his info doc and finish it. I hope you'll enjoy learning more about him!
𓇼 Info & bio
𓇼 The Legend of Marilairë
𓇼 A different game
𓇼 Until I find you again
These are just the info doc and introductory fics; a proper masterlist will follow soon.
For context, I also recommend checking out @edensrose's OC Lúilírë who plays an important role in Airilin's story ♡
Characters: Airilin/Ossë
Synopsis: Two Maiar of the sea, caught up in the fires of unbridled passion.
Warnings: Nsft (nothing too explicit but still)
To say it was love that brought them together wouldn't be quite true.
It was more akin to a storm of raw desire and passion, like waves crashing on rock. Fangs bared, kissing and biting each other, scales shimmering in the light of the Lamps, tails intertwining and wrapping around one another.
In the end, Ossë was always stronger, though Airilin was equally as vicious as he, so every victory was hard fought for. The sea sang alongside his ëala in delight whenever he finally claimed his prize, enjoying the feeling of such a beautiful Maia writhing underneath him.
"Sing for me," Ossë growled, teeth and claws alike digging into soft skin.
Airilin was not only swift and elusive, but also proud and moody. Other suitors he would often reject, and even when he entertained their courtship, he would refuse to submit to them. Yet to Ossë, and Ossë alone, he would give himself, and so the two would fight time and time again, hungry for the rush of excitement it would bring.
If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡
Characters: Lúilírë/Airilin
Synopsis: Lúilírë and Airilin find gifts for each other.
Warnings: /
Author's Note: Double drabble for this one! Hope you enjoy!
"I have something for you," Airilin declares while they sit at the edge of one of Ilmarin's pools together.
"I-I... it isn't necessary..." Lúilírë hurries to say, then swiftly corrects himself, "I appreciate it, of course, but–"
He silently curses himself for his poor response. Should the Elder King's strategist not know better? Yet fortunately for him, Airilin seems undeterred by his nervousness, toying with whatever object he's currently holding in his hand.
"Look," he says proudly and opens his fist to reveal a beautiful pearl, shimmering in the moonlight. "I spent the whole day diving to find one that is as pretty as you."
Lúilírë is speechless, blushing as he's complemented with such unabashed affection. Airilin places the pearl on his palm, gently prompting his fingers to close around it, then continues to hold his hand between his.
"I... this is the loveliest gift I have ever received. Thank you," Lúilírë manages to respond after a few seconds of stunned silence and is met with a delighted grin from the water spirit.
"I will get you as many as you like," Airilin promises and moves closer, bringing their foreheads together. "Whatever my favourite little pearl's heart desires."
Instead of responding, Lúilírë kisses him.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
"This time, I got you a gift," Lúilírë tells him as soon as Airilin emerges from his favourite pool in Ilmarin for yet another visit.
"Oh?"
What wonderful news indeed. Seeing his little pearl is always a treat, especially when he is flustered like this, but a gift would make things even better. His violet eyes spot a box in his hands, with a silver bow on top of it.
How sweet of him!
"I hope you like it," Lúilírë says nervously.
Airilin pulls himself out of the pool and sits down on the floor, looking up at his lover with a cheeky, playful smile.
"That depends. Does it sparkle?"
Lúilírë seems to be taken aback by his question, then nods. "It does."
"Perfect!"
Airilin's ear fins flutter with excitement as he accepts the box and swiftly opens it with his claws like he's attempting to crack open a seashell. He finds an elegant silver circlet inside, adorned with beautiful little amethysts, and squeals in delight. Before his lover can even open his mouth to ask what he thinks, he has already placed it on his head and admires his reflection in the water.
"How do I look, dearest?"
"Gorgeous. Even more so than usual."
If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡
Characters: Lúilírë/Airilin
Synopsis: On a hot summer day, Airilin tempts his lover to join him for a swim.
Warnings: /
"Is it too hot for you, my little pearl?"
Airilin wraps himself around his lover with serpentine grace and looks up at him, teasing and playful. Lúilírë, maintaining his seated position, puts his notes aside and gently places the water spirit's head on his lap to caress his face and play with his hair, which elicits a content purring noise from his sea-loving sweetheart.
"I cannot imagine you enjoying the heat either, dearest," he says. As much as he appreciates Arien's dutifulness, on hot days like this he wishes she would steer her vessel a little further away from Arda.
"Most waters never get too warm," Airilin replies. The look in his eyes is entirely too innocent, causing Lúilírë to chuckle.
"And what would you have me do with that information? Are you perhaps trying to tempt me to go swimming with you?" he asks, though at this point he's smiling as well.
They both know swimming is not all the water spirit wishes to do, and Lúilírë finds the prospect of being whisked away to a cool, shadowy pond somewhere quite appealing, especially on such a day.
"I am," Airilin admits without a hint of shame and wraps his tail around his lover more tightly – a clear, unequivocal sign of his intentions.
"So? Would you like to?"
Lúilírë leans down to kiss his lips. "I am all yours."
If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡
Author's Note: And another LuiLin oneshot, in which you will see who Airilin truly is - or, alternatively, who he has become. I'll also provide an info post for him soon. Enjoy!
Until I find you again
Characters: Lúilírë/Airilin
Synopsis: Lúilírë finally confronts Airilin in Middle-earth.
Warnings: Mentions of people drowning (non-graphic), alluding to Angband-typical coercion (non-graphic, non-explicit)
"Airilin."
Lúilírë's voice comes out as a hushed whisper. His former lover is lounging on the river's edge like he used to whenever he visited him in Valinor, looking up at him with that dizzying, disarming smile.
"There you are, my little pearl. Always lovely to see you."
Airilin's voice is sweet and his tone sounds genuine, making it even harder for Lúilírë to resist. Yet what keeps him from falling for his charms as easily as he did last time is a flash of gold when the water spirit shifts to a more comfortable position, and he notices that a suspicious amount of jewellery adorns his fána, pieces he hasn't seen him wear before.
His heart sinks–he knows these are, in all likelihood, evidence of his crimes against the Children of Ilúvatar.
"I hear you have been luring people into the water," Lúilírë says, attempting to steel himself as he walks closer.
"Ah, is that what they say?"
Airilin pouts slightly and swishes his tail disdainfully, causing water droplets to fly in all directions. If the situation wasn't so dire, Lúilírë would have found his reaction almost adorable.
"Well, I never forced anyone to jump into rivers or drowned them with my own hands. All I did was brush my hair, clean my scales, sing a little... at times I even had to defend myself, because people wouldn't leave me alone."
"So you would claim you had nothing to do with all those unfortunate deaths? People just happened to drown and disappear wherever you went, without your song compelling them?" Lúilírë shakes his head. "Don't make me laugh, Airilin–or should I call you Marilairë, as it seems this is how you are known these days?"
"What they call me is no fault of mine either."
"Yet you assumed this identity."
"Assumed the identity! Ha!" Airilin laughs and throws his hair back. "At best you could say I didn't clear up a minor misunderstanding."
"And it seems like you have been stealing from your victims as well," Lúilírë says, pointing to the jewellery. Now that he's getting closer, he believes he recognizes different styles and materials from all over Middle-earth, solidifying his suspicions that they must have belonged to other people.
"Well, the dead have no need for gold and gemstones now, do they?" Airilin counters.
Lúilírë feels his patience wearing thin; the water spirit's haughty, uncaring attitude in regards to the crimes he obviously committed makes him feel sick. If he wasn't the love of his life, he would already be fighting him or dragging him back to Valinor in chains.
"You killed them, either simply because you could or to take their jewellery," he reasserts his accusations. Then, more quietly, he adds, "And you attempted to kill me too."
It hurts to say, but it has been plaguing his mind ever since their last encounter during the War of Wrath. His memories are blurry, all he remembers is hearing that sweet song again, the alluring gaze of violet eyes and the painful realisation that Airilin hadn't come to him out of love or longing, but at the behest of his evil master. Even so, Lúilírë found himself to be both unwilling and unable to fight against his spell. He was saved by Eönwë, but he has never been the same; and sometimes he feels like a part of him did in fact die that day, gone with his former lover as he narrowly managed to escape the herald's wrath.
It's the first time his words manage to get through to him. Airilin suddenly gets up from his lounging position and raises himself to his full height to properly face him. Before Lúilírë knows what is happening, he feels cool, webbed hands cupping and caressing his cheeks and finds himself staring into those beautiful pools of amethyst.
Just like he did back then.
He should recoil, but he doesn't. Instead he leans into the familiar touch of the Maia he used to love–no, still loves, as he knows deep down in his heart.
"I didn't want it," Airilin whispers. He seems panicked, almost desperate all of a sudden, and there is an undeniable candidness in the intensity of his response.
Lúilírë understands what he's referring to, and it feels like his words are soothing his aching heart. The thought that his former lover, someone still dear to his heart, intended to take his life without remorse has hurt and haunted him for ages now.
"They forced me to," Airilin continues, "I said no, but they... they threatened to..."
"I know," Lúilírë mumbles; he has seen the horrors of Angband firsthand. And perhaps he is a fool for thinking this way, yet he feels no anger towards the water spirit, but rather his cruel masters for forcing him to do terrible things.
Airilin's ear fins perk up, and he seems relieved. "So you don't hate me?"
"I could never."
They stare at each other for a few seconds, until he suddenly leans in. Lúilírë forgets to breathe for a moment when soft lips brush against his, careful and hesitant at first, then fierce and passionate. He kisses back without a second thought, reason and caution forgotten in an instant. After ages of separation he has his beloved back–even if they're supposed to be enemies, even if it's fleeting.
"I never stopped loving you," he confesses between kisses, suddenly quiet and vulnerable.
"Neither did I." Airilin brings their foreheads together and gazes into Lúilírë's eyes. "Though I did think you were angry with me."
"Perhaps I was at times. But my desire to have you back by my side is greater."
Lúilírë places his hands on Airilin's shoulders.
"You need to stop doing these evil things," he pleads. "The Dark One is gone. Come home with me, return to your rightful allegiance. I am sure Lord Ulmo will forgive you."
In lieu of a response, Airilin plants another kiss on his lips, and this time there's sadness within the song of his fëa. His fingers curl around Lúilírë's wrists and gently remove his hands from his shoulders.
"I am sorry," is all he says as he lets go of him.
Before his former lover can call out to him, he returns to the river he came from and lets his element take him, disappearing from sight. No trace remains, only water droplets glittering on stone and a faint shimmer reminiscent of his scales.
Lúilírë stands frozen in place for a few moments, feeling his heart ache anew, the pain of an old wound reopened.
This is not the end, he swears to himself, I will find you again and one day I will bring you home.
If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡
read more? The Legend of Marilairë | A different game (LuiLin) | drabbles & shorts masterlist | main masterlist
get tagged for my writing? tag list form
