Request: [Mixed Selection] May I request headcanons for a flirty human reader with Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Maedhros and Elrond? Reader is flirting with them but she actually has no romantic interest in them. Genre and being sfw/nsfw don't matter for me - dealer's choice. Thank you in advance!!
A/N: I went with the SFW route that was slightly suggestive, it felt more befitting given the ‘non-romantic interest’ and I was in the mood for a good laugh. This was just a lovely request, anon. Thank you for the request!
Synopsis: When you decide to flirt with them despite being romantically uninterested in them, all for the sake of fun.
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Maedhros
𑁍 You had no idea how you ended up befriending Maedhros, but once you did, you realised something very important: the Eldar were woefully unprepared for human audacity, and Maedhros, in particular, had absolutely no idea what to do with you.
𑁍 “You should smile more,” you told him once, watching as he adjusted his vambrace with that usual, distant intensity. “I bet it’d make all the ladies swoon.”
𑁍 He blinked at you, unimpressed. “I am a Prince of the Noldor. My concerns are not—”
𑁍 “Oh, so you already have them swooning? I should’ve known.” You smirked, tapping a finger against your chin in mock contemplation. “Is it the brooding thing? Or the battle scars? Or maybe it’s the hair—tell me, Maedhros, how many maidens have tried to braid flowers into it?”
𑁍 The strangled noise he made was priceless. It became a game after that. You, being utterly shameless, and Maedhros, being utterly unprepared for someone who flirted without actually meaning it.
𑁍 “Would you catch me if I fell?” you asked once, lounging across a bench like some ancient philosopher contemplating the meaning of life. And Maedhros, ever pragmatic, glanced at you and said, “You are sitting down.”
𑁍 “Hypothetically.”
𑁍 “...I suppose, yes.”
𑁍 “Would you cradle me in your arms and whisper soft reassurances?”
𑁍 “No.”
𑁍 “What if I cried a little?”
𑁍 He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose like he was summoning every ounce of patience left in his soul. You were his worst nightmare.
𑁍 Once, after a particularly ridiculous exchange, Maglor (who found you endlessly entertaining) finally asked, “Are you actually trying to court my brother?”
𑁍 “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied without hesitation. “I just like to see if I can make him malfunction.” The absolute horror on Maedhros’ face was a thing of beauty.
𑁍 “You are malfunctioning,” Maglor pointed out.
𑁍 “I am not—”
𑁍 “Name one time you’ve reacted normally to them.”
𑁍 Maedhros opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then just glared at you. “This is entirely your fault.”
𑁍 You gave him a dazzling smile and fluttered your lashes. “And yet, you keep me around. Hmm. Almost like you enjoy my presence.”
𑁍 “I do not,” he lied blatantly.
𑁍 Eventually, Maedhros stopped protesting, but the sighs of long-suffering continued. You were convinced that, despite his protests, he secretly enjoyed your antics. After all, he never once told you to stop.
Celegorm
𑁍 Celegorm first mistook you for a genuine suitor, which was honestly on him. You had flirted outrageously, batting your lashes and trailing your fingers along his arm while calling him ‘my mighty hunter.’ He had puffed up like a peacock, utterly convinced that you had fallen for his rugged charm.
𑁍 “I understand,” he had said gravely one evening, after you had draped yourself over the back of his chair and whispered something about strong hands and archery skill. “It is difficult to resist me.”
𑁍 You nearly choked on your wine. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” you laughed, patting his shoulder. “I just like watching you squirm.”
𑁍 Celegorm sat there, utterly frozen, like a man who had just been hit by a metaphorical wagon. He stared at you, at the sheer audacity, before narrowing his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, human.”
𑁍 “Oh, but you’re so fun to mess with,” you grinned, winking.
𑁍 After that, Celegorm dedicated himself to turning the tables. He flirted back with wild intensity, cornering you in halls with smirks and murmured threats of “revenge.” It became a game, a constant back-and-forth of smouldering looks and ridiculous one-liners. The moment you actually backed off, he huffed in disappointment. “What, giving up already?”
𑁍 “Of course not,” you grinned, sauntering past. “I just like keeping you on edge.”
𑁍 One day, he finally called your bluff, leaning down so close his breath brushed your ear. “You talk big, but I don’t think you could handle me.”
𑁍 You burst into laughter so hard you had to clutch your ribs. “Oh, Tyelko, if I wanted to handle you, I’d have done it already.”
𑁍 He stared. You sauntered away, leaving the great hunter standing there, looking more hunted than ever.
Finrod
𑁍 Finrod had your number from the start. The very first time you tried to lean into him and sigh about how ‘utterly entrancing’ his eyes were, he simply raised a golden brow and smirked. “Oh, is that so?”
𑁍 You pouted. “Must you ruin my fun?”
𑁍 “I would never, but I am curious—do you say this to all elves, or am I special?” he purred, clearly amused.
𑁍 “Oh, you’re special, all right,” you grinned, tapping his chest. “Most elves just blush and stammer. You, however, are proving to be a challenge.”
𑁍 Finrod delighted in the game. He indulged you with little flourishes—offering his hand with an elegant bow, leaning in when you whispered something ridiculous, murmuring things in Quenya just to watch you shiver dramatically and sigh, “Oh, if only I knew what that meant!”
𑁍 “It means, ‘You’re absolutely shameless, and I adore it.’”
𑁍 You gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. “Finrod! And here I thought you were an honourable prince.”
𑁍 “Ah, but honour and amusement are not mutually exclusive,” he grinned.
𑁍 He was insufferable. Worse, he was better at this than you were. One night at a feast, he casually kissed the back of your hand and murmured, “My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, I may start to believe you.”
𑁍 “Oh, don’t do that,” you laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’d hate to break your heart.”
𑁍 “You overestimate your power, my dear,” he chuckled, though his eyes shone with a twinkle.
𑁍 “Oh, do I?” you purred, trailing a finger up his arm. “You wouldn’t be the first elf I’ve made weak in the knees.”
𑁍 “And yet, I am still standing,” he mused. “A mystery indeed.”
𑁍 “Well,” you smirked, “there’s still time.”
Glorfindel
𑁍 Glorfindel was used to admiration. Being a golden-haired, heroic Balrog-slayer tended to make one rather popular. He was not, however, used to your particular brand of shameless flirting.
𑁍 The first time you called him ‘the most devastatingly handsome warrior this side of the sea,’ he nearly choked on his drink. “I beg your pardon?”
𑁍 “Oh, don’t be shy,” you teased, elbowing him. “You know you’re devastatingly handsome. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
𑁍 He recovered quickly. Too quickly. “Oh? And are you thinking about me often, then?”
𑁍 You grinned. “Only in my most sinful dreams.”
𑁍 Glorfindel coughed. You watched, delighted, as a flush rose high on his cheeks. “You are scandalous,” he muttered, shaking his head.
𑁍 “And you like it,” you sing-songed, linking your arm through his.
𑁍 From that moment on, he was both wary and intrigued. You kept him on his toes, throwing winks and suggestive remarks his way whenever the opportunity arose. One time, after he returned from a sparring match, you fanned yourself dramatically. “By the stars, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”
𑁍 He stared at you, sweat still glistening on his brow. “Do you ever stop?”
𑁍 “Why would I?” you asked, propping your chin on your hand. “You’re such an easy target.”
𑁍 “I am not an easy target,” he huffed, crossing his arms.
𑁍 “Oh, Glorfindel,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You poor, oblivious thing.”
𑁍 One day, he turned the tables on you, cornering you in a hallway and leaning in just close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Tell me, my sweet tormentor,” he murmured, “what would you do if I took your teasing seriously?”
𑁍 You blinked up at him, your brain stalling for a moment before you grinned and placed a finger on his chest. “I’d be very flattered,” you said, trailing your hand down his tunic before giving him a light shove. “But I’d still be messing with you.”
𑁍 Glorfindel groaned, his face forming a grimace. “You are intolerable.”
𑁍 “And yet, you keep coming back,” you sing-songed, winking as you strolled away.
𑁍 He watched you go, muttering something about humans and their wicked ways. But later, when you caught him smiling to himself, you knew he secretly loved every second of it.
Elrond
𑁍 “Lord Elrond,” you greeted with a smile that was all teeth. “I just want to say that you have the most magnificent bone structure I have ever seen. Have you ever considered the impact of your jawline on the mortal population?”
𑁍 Elrond, to his credit, barely reacted. “No, I have not.”
𑁍 “Tragic. I fear you underestimate its power.” He did not dignify that with a response.
𑁍 It became a sport after that. You flirted. He ignored you. You got more ridiculous. He remained completely, frustratingly composed.
𑁍 “Do you ever get tired of being the most attractive person in the room?” you asked one day, chin in hand, watching him review some diplomatic scrolls.
𑁍 “No,” he replied absently, eyes still scanning the parchment. “It is a burden I have learned to bear.”
𑁍 You choked on your drink. “Oh—so you do have a sense of humour!”
𑁍 His lips twitched, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a glimmer of amusement in those grey eyes.
𑁍 He got his revenge once. You had leaned in far too close, examining his ever-stoic features like some fine work of art, when he turned his head abruptly and murmured, “You are staring, my friend. Do you wish to kiss me?”
𑁍 You jerked back so fast you nearly fell out of your chair. “No!”
𑁍 “Ah,” he said, entirely unbothered, turning back to his scrolls. “How unexpected.”
𑁍 Sometimes, the elves who served him gave you looks of sheer disbelief. You were speaking to Elrond Peredhel, leaning casually against his desk and saying things like, “What if I wrote you a love poem?”
𑁍 “Please do not.”
𑁍 “Too late, I’ve already started. ‘O Elrond, fairest of the fair, with hair like—’ ”
𑁍 “No.” You could almost see him regretting ever acknowledging your presence.
𑁍 Glorfindel, who had been watching the entire ordeal with great amusement, leaned over and whispered, “I have never seen him so consistently harassed before. You are a marvel.”
𑁍 “Thank you,” you said, preening.
𑁍 And yet, despite all his sighs and why must you do this looks, Elrond never once dismissed you. If anything, you sometimes caught him glancing at you with that small, knowing smile of his, like he found you far more entertaining than he’d ever admit.
Things the Silmarillion elves find adorable about a human reader
After surveying the recurring elves of this blog, here are seven things they find adorable about humans:
Waving Greeting
Maedhros froze the first time you did it. Across the military camp, you excitedly waved at him. Raising your arm high, you waved, smiling broadly, and your elf froze in his path. For a fleeting moment, he thought it must be someone else you were so happy to greet. But no. It was him. With unpracticed-stiff movements, he raised his own arm and waved back. He watched as laughter bubbled out of you, and you ran to him, leaving him utterly dumbfounded yet his heart leaping out of his chest.
Baggy Clothing
Glorfindel tries not to stare, but by Elbereth, it is hard. Drowning in his robes, you look utterly adorable. The way the sleeves flow down your arms, completely covering your hands, and how the fabric pools around your feet, it’s enough to make him squeal. He worries briefly that you might trip, but for now, he’s too busy enjoying the sight. Picking you up in his arms, he resists the urge to squeeze you, mindful of the last time he tried and how poorly that ended for him. Still, his heart aches at how endearing you look, swallowed by the robes that were never quite meant for you.
Breathless Laughter
The entire palace can hear it. Yet this does not stop the subtle smile it puts on everyone’s face. Sitting across from you, Finrod watches you wheeze with laughter, clutching your stomach as you fall off your chair. Your face is red, your eyes brimming with tears. “I think I peed a little,” you whisper through giggles as your friend continues laughing uncontrollably. Finrod loves the sight of such unrestrained joy, raw, rugged happiness amid marred lands. How wonderful it must be, he thinks, to express joy so freely.
Apologizing to Inanimate Objects
It’s not the first time Maeglin has seen you do this. Bumping into a corner, you mutter a quick “Sorry,” rubbing your arm as though the object could feel pain. Wooden crates, rocks, curtains, tables, nothing escapes your apologies, and Maeglin secretly adores it.
It’s such an absentminded habit, and yet it speaks volumes about your nature. There is, however, one exception: when you stub your toe on something. Then, your mouth lets loose with the vocabulary of a seasoned sailor. Much to his dismay (and secret delight), Maeglin finds even this utterly endearing. But there’s absolutely no way he’s telling you that. He keeps that fondness locked away where you’ll never uncover it.
Love for Blankets
Fingon has trekked across the Helcaraxe. He knows the cold and understands the precious value of warmth. Yet, his appreciation pales in comparison to yours. He absolutely loves your ritual of joy at the sight of your bed. The way you jump into your blankets, rubbing your feet together, scrunching your eyes shut, and giggling. It’s a sight he never tires of. On nights when he gets to witness this, Fingon even mimics your antics, despite not feeling the cold himself. He delights in how you grin and snuggle into him, often followed by your sneaky attempt to press your freezing feet against his. Though he feigns annoyance, he treasures every moment of it.
Physical Touch
Beleg smiles broadly the moment you enter a room. Without fail, your eyes scan the space until they find him, and then you make your way over to sit beside him. Every. Single. Time.
He loves how humans gravitate toward physical closeness, finding contentment in proximity alone. Unlike elves, who feel bonds through senses, heartbeats, or thoughts, you seek him out with pure will.
Every time you do, Beleg can’t help but put his arms around you, squeezing you in a way he’s seen you do to him. And when you hum contentedly, he melts just a little more.
Baby Voice
Celegorm can’t help but laugh at the way your voice softens when you bend down to pet Huan. Every time you see the hound, you greet him with exaggerated enthusiasm, “Who’s a goob boy?”
Celegorm has, on several occasions, reminded you that Huan is older than your grandfather, older than your entire kind, in fact. Yet this knowledge hasn’t dimmed your excitement one bit. Your bubbly tone, the kisses on Huan’s paws, the endless stream of pets, Celegorm finds it both amusing and endearing. Much to your credit, Huan is completely putty in your hands.
“You’d do better to hold your sword like this,” Maedhros instructed you from across the training field. He had been observing you practice, making note of your weak points. It gave him an excuse to approach you, disguised as an attempt to help. The problem was, you weren’t exactly looking for any.
You turned towards him, marching closer with purpose. He demonstrated his grip, holding his arm out for you to take a look. He then brought his sword forward to show you a swing, illustrating where he found a weakness in your follow through. Instead of watching, you brought your own sword up, clashing against him as you pushed forward, blade first.
You managed to catch him by surprise, disarming him of his sword before kicking, taking his legs out from underneath him. His back hit the hard ground and he looked up at you, shocked, as you notched your blade under his chin.
“I think I hold my sword just fine,” you smiled down at him, locking eyes while he tried to catch his breath. He watched as you turned, walking away from the training ground like you didn’t just take down the Crown Prince of the Noldor without breaking a sweat.
Maedhros didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. His feelings were getting more confused as he laid there. He supposed he’d have to see you again to figure it out.
Maglor
All night Magor watched as you danced along to the music flowing from his harp. Your moves were fluid and enchanting, causing the usually perfect elf to stumble over his notes. You didn’t take notice of his mistakes, or any of the potential suitors hovering around. You were too focused on the feeling of the music flowing through you, unlike any playing you’d heard before.
He hid behind the harp all night, unsure of how to approach you. Even though you turned to him after each song, clapping and smiling like he was playing music just for you. Thankfully, you weren’t as shy as he was.
“If someone wanted to learn to play like you, who would they seek to teach them?” You asked him at the end of the party, as he was packing up his harp to leave. He considered your question carefully, taking time to build his confidence with his answer.
“I’m not quite sure. I taught myself to play, and I’ve never given a lesson before. Though I could be persuaded,” he replied, smiling down at his instrument.
You laughed, a musical, tinkling sound erupting from your chest. It filled Maglor with light. The sound to him was better than his compositions, and he wondered if you would consider singing with him instead.
Celegorm
“And who is this fair lady who dares to be more beautiful than Varda herself while she sits in her gardens?” Celegorm says, leaving his brother in the dust as he saunters to where you rest. He walks with confidence, like a prince who has never been told “no” before. You are familiar with this type and aren’t impressed by his flowery words.
“Who is this insufferable charmer?” you reply, barely giving him a glance as he stands in front of you. That look is enough to tell you he is handsome, devastatingly so, and you are determined not to fall under his spell.
“You mean to wound me, my lady, but any words from those lips are music to my ears,” he flirts. You scoff, shocked that he thinks these tacky one liners will work on you. You’re even more shocked that maybe they are working, if even just a little.
“If you think I’m going to fall at your feet with fictions like these, you are mistaken. Come back when you’re ready to speak with me honestly,” you say, looking to drive him away before you get yourself into more trouble than you can handle.
“I most certainly will,” He throws you a wink before walking away to rejoin his brother. They venture out of the garden, but not without Celegorm looking over his shoulder at you, smiling like he wasn’t just harshly rejected.
Caranthir
The elf in front of you reaches out a hand, waving it in front of your face as you sit on the ground. You’re dazed from bumping into him, and then bumping into the ground. The hand moves impatiently, waiting for you to grab it so he can pull you up.
He tires of waiting, and instead he uses both hands to grab your shoulders and pull you up to your feet. You blush at the contact, not used to skin to skin contact. He notices your blush and turns a little red himself. You giggle to yourself, nervous, and a scowl instantly breaks out onto his face. He turns to go without a word.
You move to follow him in order to apologize, but when you take a step you feel a twinge in your ankle. You gasp when your foot meets the ground and Caranthir hears this, turning to you with concern. He sees your pained expression and walks back to offer you his arm, which you gladly accept as he walks you back to your house.
“I want to thank the elf who helped save me from my own clumsiness, but I’m not sure who to address my thanks to,” you say as you reach your door. He tells you his name and you turn it over in your mouth, loving the way it sounds.
“Please allow me to know your name, so when I come tomorrow to check on you I know who to ask for,” he replies, blushing hard as he does. You love the color of his cheeks, and can’t wait to see just how red they can get.
Curufin
You’d never been to the forge this late before, but it was nearing dinner time and your brother had yet to arrive home. Instead of finding him, you found an elf with raven black hair and a look of concentration you dared not to break.
It was broken, however, when he heard you call your brother’s name over the sound of him pounding away at his anvil. There were only a handful of people left in the forge, surely you wouldn’t have any trouble finding the one you were seeking.
Though five minutes later you were still wandering around, distracting him from his work with your glowing skin and shining eyes. He wanted to hear you call his name instead.
“Can I help you?” He asked finally when you passed close by his work station. You told him your brother's name, and he suggested taking a break to help you find him. You apologized for pulling him from his work, but he assured you it was no trouble.
He uses this time to study you, to notice the shade of your hair and the multitude of colors in your eyes. He knows exactly what he will be making in the forge next, a set of silver earrings with gems to beautifully highlight your complexion. He will get started as soon as you exit the forge, not wanting to waste a minute of inspiration.
Amrod
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Amrod apologizes as he finds you lost in a book, hidden away in the deep parts of the forest. You startle, unaware of his presence until his voice rings in the quiet. It echoes across the trees, bouncing from branch to leaf before reaching you.
“I didn’t know anyone else knew these woods,” you confess, smiling up at him from your perch on the ground. He smiles back, timidly, unsure of how to continue the conversation. He can tell you are feeling just as shy, and is determined to put you at ease.
“It will be our secret,” he finally settles on saying. You agree and share your intentions of coming back tomorrow. He takes the hint and mentions his plans to do the same, though they didn’t exist before this moment.
He can hear the sound of his brother getting closer. Though they share everything, he has the urge to keep this place, and you, to himself. You notice this agitation and give him a quiet goodbye.
“Until tomorrow,” Amrod says, lingering in your presence as long as he can before he leaves you alone in the small clearing. He rejoins his brother, but his thoughts stay with you.
Amras
Amras notices strange footprints in the dirt as he and his twin track rabbits in the forest. They appear to be that of an elf, and while Amrod takes off after the animal tracks he follows the ones that look close to his own.
The tracks end abruptly at the base of a tree, and Amras decides he must go up and follow the trail to the end. His hunting instincts won’t let him leave it alone. The mystery is too intriguing for him, pulling him up the bark of the tree.
He finds you perched on a branch, sketching a bird’s nest high up in the leaves. Your hand moves confidently across the page, eyes moving between the nest and the drawing with ease. He is content to watch you silently, not wanting to disturb your process.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not polite to stare?” You ask, eyes never tearing away from your work. He feels embarrassed until he sees your playful smile.
“My mother would be most ashamed of me,” he jokes, causing you to laugh with him. He wonders how long he can last up in the tree until someone comes looking for him. Hopefully long enough to convince you to come down with him.
"For Eru's sake, please stop overreacting. I am going to be just fine."
Minor wounds during hunting were normal. Cuts and bruises here and there. But every time when something happened to you, he was over the edge, thinking you were not going to see another day.
Yes, it hurt, but you try to stay put so that Celegorm doesn't panic more than usual. Huan, also concerned about your current state, sat beside you and licked your face. You smiled a little through pain and gave him a stroke.
"See? Even Huan is calmer than you."
"Okay, fine." He kneels in front of you to check your ankle.
"It's sprained."
"See? It is not as bad as it could be."
Without a word, he scooped you in his arms.
"Hey! I can still walk!"
"No, you cannot."
You sight and gave up, resting your head against him.
Can I send in a request for different soulmate tropes for the Feanorians and when they find their soulmate? (for example, tropes like the red-string of fate, timer countdown, having a tattoo that symbolizes them on your body, etc).
Thank you so much and I can't wait to see what you come up with!!
(Author note: I didn't do Curufin and the twins as I could not come up with anything with them. )
Warnings: mentions of the book events, mentions of Maedhros's captivity, loss of a hand, separation, reluctance, the oath, doom, and rejection.
- Maedhros would have a small tattoo on the back of his right hand, right below his thumb and index finger. He would have been confused the first time it appeared, but then he would be excited when his parents or someone else told him it was the mark of his soulmate.
- He had been given a tattoo that represented his soulmate. His soulmate would bear a tattoo on the same spot that represented him and he would know once he had seen them.
- Growing up in Valinor he would check people’s hands to see if they had a tattoo on the same spot as him.
- If you two met in Valinor, he would find a small star on the back of your right hand below your thumb and index.
- He would be delighted to have finally found you, and most likely would have not hesitated to get to know you and start a relationship with you. His family would be happy for him.
- However, if you two met in Middle Earth. His feelings about finding his soulmate would be much more complicated.
- For example, the great enemy mocking the mark of his soulmate and threatening to find them would have left him reluctant to ever find his soulmate. Losing his right hand would have solidified his decision.
- He would stare at his missing hand from time to time, remembering the mark of his soulmate. He would hope his soulmate would never find him as his reputation would certainly tarnish theirs.
- If you two did manage to meet, he would feel strange pulling toward you. If you two clicked very well, he would mistake it for simple crushing or fondness. However, that would not be the case when he sees the star on your right hand.
- Realizing you were his soulmate would cause him to distance himself away from you, startled and anxious to realize you were his one. He would then make a hard decision, to either give himself this chance to feel your love or push you away and possibly save you from the doom that followed him.
- If he decided to embrace the fact and allow himself to be selfish just once, Maedhros would not reveal you were soulmates but enjoy your company. He would have decided to enjoy it while it lasted because relationships would not last during wars. His feelings for you would have grown but he would have kept it as a good friendship, and it would have hurt less when you two had to separate.
- If he decided to distance himself and cut ties with you, his soul would ache for your presence and he would feel miserable for causing you to feel sad and confused by his sudden distance. He would have most likely been harsh and explained that you two couldn’t talk to each other, growing the drift between you.
- Making you leave would be the hardest decision he had ever made. However, it would ease his soul to know you would not be doomed by him and his oath.
- If there was a chance Eru took pity on you, he would either allow you to meet again in better circumstances or let you have someone else for a soulmate.
Maglor — Red string of fate
- (Because I think Maglor would love tragic love stories, the red string of fate would be fitting for him.)
- Maglor would be blooming with excitement when one day he saw a red string attached to his finger. He would have read all about the red string of fate and would have most likely been eager to go on an adventure to find his soulmate, the red string being his guide. Unfortunately, he was too young to go on his own.
- Growing up, he would occasionally check on the red string to see if his soulmate was nearby as the red string would extend or become more clear when his soulmate was near.
- If you two met on Valinor, it would have happened during a party or one of his performances. He would be surprised to see the red string suddenly become visible and lead his eyes upon you. However, it would not have been an unwelcome surprise and he would have jumped on the first chance to talk with you.
- His search would finally be over after meeting you and his family would have to suffer his constant serenading of finding his soulmate.
- However, if you met on Middle Earth, his feelings would be slightly reluctant, but not opposed to it.
- After the whole kin slaying and burning of the boats, he would have wished he would not find his soulmate. The red string went more distant, but he would be surprised to find the red string showing itself more one day.
- He would be curious to find them and one day when he met you, he would feel happy.
- He would be more open about revealing being his soulmate and having a relationship with you. However, since he and his kin were at war with Morgoth, the relationship would have to be kept as a secret.
- However, if he decided you two would be better off without each other. He would send you away with good wishes and hopes that fate would allow you to meet again, and thus ends the tragic love story.
Celegorm — Dreams/Led by your pets
- As a hunter, I think Celegorm would have a prophetic dream about an animal that would lead him to his soulmate.
- In his dreams, he would see an animal he is meant to find and follow to find his soulmate. He is a free spirit so he might find the dreams and the thought of having a soulmate slightly annoying.
- However, if he came to meet with the said animal from his dreams he would not be opposed to following it and seeing what would happen. And when that happens, Huan would go missing and ignore his calls.
- He would then find you with the animal and Huan who had led you to him. Perhaps that time, he would be more open and excited when he locked his eyes with you, especially if you two met in the woods of Valinor and the animal turned out to be your companion.
- However, if you met in Middle Earth, I do not think Celegorm would not hesitate to have a relationship with you. If you both were hunters I think the relationship would go pretty smoothly.
- But, if the oath comes between you, Celegorm might let you go in order for you to be safe from danger, or if you do not agree, and that he made it clear he would not give up the oath even for you.
- Separation from you might cause him to become slightly more violent, but the thought of you being somewhere safe might ease it just a bit.
Caranthir — Timer
- A timer would suit Caranthir.
- He would have been very confused when one day he found a clock drawn on his hand and it would not go away no matter how much he washed.
- It would take both his parents to explain he had received a soulmate clock, which tells how long it would take to meet his soulmate: the more hours and minutes the farther away and the less how close his soulmate is.
- The idea would not wrap around his head for a while, especially if the clock showed several hours, which only meant his soulmate was nowhere near.
- He would be thrilled to find out when his clock reveals fewer minutes and would look around in curiosity till he found you.
- I think he would be slightly shy, but would not avoid you. If you two click and you show your timer, then it would be the start of a beautiful relationship.
- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, he would be skeptical about having a relationship with you.
- Seeing there was no hope after his reputation as a kin slayer and war with Morgoth, he saw it would be best not to seek out his soulmate.
- So, imagine the shock he would feel when he finds his timer running toward the end and eventually finding you.
- In some parts of his soul he would have been thrilled, but due to his unfortunate circumstances, he might avoid revealing about being your soulmate. However, due to the tugging in his soul, he might make a friendly relationship with you.
- He would feel ease from his anger, and it would slightly hurt him to know he might have to separate from you.
- He would enjoy it while it lasted, before sending you off with heartfelt goodbyes.
Celebrimbor — A strand of hair
- Celebrimbor would be surprised to find a strand of his hair had turned into a different color, but would be delighted when he learned it was the clue of his soulmate and that his soulmate would have a strand of his hair color.
- He would not mind walking around with the new color and sometimes styling it while searching for the one who had his hair color.
- If you two met on Valinor, it would be joyful.
- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, his feelings on the matter would have died down.
- But when he suddenly meets you one day and sees the dark strand of hair across your hair. He became frightened as he could feel tugging from within his very soul.
- He should feel happy by his kin’s standards. He had been blessed by chance to meet his soulmate, but his past and the reputation of his house had left him reluctant. He had hidden the color of your hair in hopes he might not accidentally meet you or anyone who might figure out who his soulmate is. In his mind, you were not worthy to get tarnished by his house’s past, but fate, of course, has worked against him.
- However, if you were not intimidated by his past, Celebrimbor’s fear might vanish and he might entertain the idea of getting to know you. It would take a lot of time to convince himself to finally reveal your hair color on his hair, and wait for your reaction as your hair colors would match and return to normal.
- If you were happy by the reveal, Celebrimbor might then be confident enough to have a relationship with you. However, he would let you go if you weren't eager by the reveal and decided to leave. He would not blame you, but he would feel a painful aching for your presence and heartache for your rejection.
Author's Note: So, I went to bed last night and was smacked with this idea. It kept me really entertained so I hope someone gets a giggle out of it, cause I did.
summary: Celegorm has taken things too far, and you're both pushed to the breaking point and things get heated
warnings: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING FIC! celegorm is an asshole and reader matches his energy, borderline emotional abuse
fic based off of the song Strangers by Ethel Cain
word count: 2.8k
request: you are such an amazing author, i am in awe of your writing! if you are accepting silm requests, can i request a celegorm x reader? we all know that this lil meow meow can be very rude and cruel, even to people he loves, especially when he's stressed :((( what if reader is his wife and lately tielko has barely paid her any attention, causing them to argument :(( and in the middle of the argument celegorm being celegorm gets impulsive and throws his wedding ring towards reader :(((( today i woke up and chose angst
DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE
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“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” You snapped at Celegorm, patience wearing thin. Your husband was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched and his blue eyes dark. His long, pale blonde hair was unkempt, hanging loosely around his face. Normally, your husband took care in his appearance, weaving and braiding intricate jewellery into his locks. When you had first met Celegorm all those centuries ago in Valinor, he was always dressed immaculately, a playful smirk on his face and a mischievous light in his eyes.
But there was no sign of the elf you married before you. There was no light or kindness in his face as he scowled at the marble floor, muttering to himself in Quenya and ignoring you. “I do not think Finrod will appreciate you wearing holes in his floors,” you added. “So stop pacing and talk to me.”
“We cannot stay here,” was all Celegorm said sharply for the tenth time that evening. “I will not be indebted to my pathetic cousin who is content to let a mortal man pursue that which belongs to my father.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. Too naive you were to think that Celegorm and Curufin’s peace and gratitude to their cousin for sheltering them would last. You had lost count of how many times you had been relocated. Your husband was prideful, his refusal to accept help and be seen as weak becoming your downfall.
“And where do you propose we go, exactly?” All patience you had left was gone, and you crossed your arms and stood in Celegorm’s path, halting his incessant pacing. “Morgoth broke the siege, the Pass of Aglon has been taken, we have nowhere else to go. We have to stay in Nargothrond until we regain our strength. We suffered a heavy loss, my love–”
Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “You have lost nothing,” he hissed. “It is I who have suffered. You weren’t on the damn battlefield.”
His words cut you like a knife. Normally you could handle your husband’s angry moods, fits of rage that would blow over as quickly as they came. But lately they have been more and more frequent, each one leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Centuries of war and an endless quest had slowly chipped away at your husband like stonemasons on mountain rock. He had become a shell of the person he was when you fell in love with him, one that was harder to forgive with each argument.
“How DARE you?” You snapped, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze with equal fire. “You think I have not suffered amidst this ceaseless fighting? You think the constant war, the waiting on the edge of battle and having to pack up and move every decade has not had an effect on me? I may not be on the battlefield, but a piece of me is with you every time you go out there in that armour to try and get back some jewels. All because of that stupid oath.”
To your fury, Celegorm merely rolled his eyes, turning away and striding over to the table by the bed in the guest room you were currently residing in. He grabbed the pitcher of wine, pouring yet another full glass and speaking with his back to you. “I will not have you whining about what you signed up for by marrying me,” he said dryly, taking a large swig from his goblet.
You scoffed, blood boiling. “Only you would call basic communication ‘whining’. I signed up for a marriage to the elf I loved. The elf who spent his days hunting and riding through the forest, who braided my hair in the morning and kissed me goodnight–”
Angrily, Celegorm slammed the goblet down onto the table, splattering droplets of red wine on the wooden table. They dripped down onto the pristine marble floor like blood from a wound. You flinched, stepping back as your husband stormed over to you. There was a mix of hurt and rage on his face as he grabbed your jaw in his hands, cupping your face. The gesture was anything but tender - it was possessive and dominant in a way that scared you. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.
Tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m saying that the elf I married and the one before me are not one in the same, and I do not recognize the latter.”
“That wasn’t an answer.” Celegorm said more sternly. “Yet it told me everything I needed to know.”
You shook your head, the grip your husband had on your jaw starting to ache. “Do not be like this. Do not make me your villain just because you want an enemy you can actually defeat and beat down.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you are losing this war, Tyelkormo. And you are taking it out on me and shutting me out because I am a reminder of all your mistakes. I am the face of your guilt and that is causing you to pull away from me because you cannot come to terms with everything you’ve done.” Your throat was thick with sadness, stomach churning at having finally uttered your darkest thoughts out loud. Never in any of your previous fights did you lay the truth so raw for your husband, ripping apart his delusions of grandeur and forcing him to face his reality.
Celegorm’s eyes darkened. “Everything I have done? It has all been for you, to end this quest so we can finally settle down and have a life together.”
You grabbed his wrists gently. “Do not lie to yourself, husband. You cling even now to thoughts of your own glory, and you are blinded by your own ambition.”
Celegorm growled and ripped your hands off of his wrists, releasing your jaw harshly and turning away. As you rubbed your jaw, the son of Fëanor continued his pacing angrily. “I swore an oath to my father–”
“As you did to me!” You yelled, voice echoing throughout the large chamber. Done you were with trying to reason with your husband. His anger and pain had festered like a wound for years, transforming and morphing into a dark and twisted creature that sought only the satisfaction of vengeance.
Celegorm matched your rage, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why must you insist on my loyalty to one oath and my subversiveness to another?”
“Because one of those oaths is destroying you!” You crossed your arms in defiance.
“I cannot seem to figure out which one that is, as of late.”
You flinched as if Celegorm had struck you. The room felt still, as if any love between you two that was warming the space had been snuffed out. But your tears did not fall, to your surprise. Nor did you feel deeply wounded. You felt numb, as if those words he uttered had switched off all physical and emotional feelings. “If you feel our marriage is the oath that is ruining your life, then why are you still in it?” Was all you said, coldly.
Celegorm ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Why are you? If you feel shackled to this life then why stay with me?”
“Stop turning my questions around because you’re too much of a coward to answer them.”
He smouldered, that fiery rage inherited from his father blazing up within them. “I am no coward.”
“Yes, you are.” You let the words lash out of you, empathy gone. You wanted to hurt Celegorm, to make him feel a fraction of what you felt right now. “You are a coward who is too afraid of what others think. You are a coward who is too afraid to make the choice that you know deep down is right, a choice for which you refuse to make since it is easier to blame an oath you spoke in the fragility of youth all those centuries ago.”
Your husband angrily grabbed the table with the spilled wine, hurling it with all his might against the wall. The wood splintered and shattered with a loud crack, its broken pieces falling to the floor amidst the red liquid. “How dare you–” he began to yell but you cut him off angrily.
“Ah, yes, resorting to throwing things in a tantrum when I force you to see the truth,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You really are your father’s son.”
Celegorm’s face went red, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a compliment. My father was a great elf!”
“Your father was a fool,” you spat. “It was his arrogance, selfishness, and pride that got him killed, and I now see you will suffer the same fate.”
You did not stick around to hear your husband’s response as you brushed past him, slamming the door behind on your way out.
********************
The evening air felt good on your skin, the gentle water lapping at your feet. You sat on a flat rock by the edge of one of the cave’s pools, soft lantern light giving the area a yellow glow. It had been hours since your fight with Celegorm, and you had not crossed paths. You knew your husband would not be the first to apologise, not after everything you said. You were well aware that your words were hurtful, yet no guilt burdened your shoulders. It felt oddly freeing to finally explode like that, to throw words in his face instead of just being on the receiving end.
Undoubtedly, Celegorm was sulking. Your husband’s temper was something you were always well aware of, and usually you were shielded from it. And for the last few decades, you had tried to understand his pain, to look at things from his perspective to justify his anger.
Yet now, you could not even do that. Celegorm’s madness had gone beyond your reach, the weight of his oath and actions dragging him down under the surface. You were no longer sure if you wanted to drown with him. A hundred years ago, you’d have walked through Angband for your husband. But now, you were tired of fighting. Tired of going to bed knowing that since you’ve been with him throughout this whole ordeal, you served as a walking reminder of the life he could no longer have.
Celegorm would not be satisfied as Finrod’s guest for long, especially after the King allowed the human Beren to seek out a Silmaril with his blessing. You used to be able to predict how far Celegorm would go to get what he wanted, but now you were not so sure. Would he truly usurp his cousin in a mad scramble to gain control? You did not know.
Familiar footsteps sounded behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Celegorm was standing behind you.
“Am I no good? He spoke quieter this time, sadness replacing the anger in his voice from earlier. “Am I simply not good enough for you anymore?”
You closed your eyes and sighed, refusing to turn and face him. “It is not a question of being good enough for me, my love,” you said gently. “It is a question of being good enough for yourself, of being the male I know you can be. Your endless pursuit of the Silmarils has been at the detriment of me, your brothers, your soldiers, everyone. Yet you keep pushing as if we do not matter.”
“You don’t understand,” he continued, his voice echoing up the chamber of Nargothrond’s caves. “I have to do this. It matters more than anything.”
“More than me?”
A cruel laugh sounded from behind you. “Ah, so we come to it long last.”
You frowned, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up to face your husband. There was no sorrow in his eyes, his mood changing like a storm amidst the flowery spring fields. “What does that mean?” You asked through narrowed eyes.
“It means I always knew that one day you’d ask me to choose between you and the Silmarils,” he said heartlessly, his voice callous and devoid of love. “I’m surprised it took you this long, in perfect honesty.”
Anger churned in your gut. “You have forced my hand into doing so!” You snapped, voice rising. “Am I supposed to live forever in your shadow as a slave to your mindless choices? To never prioritise my own happiness or seek a life outside of war and quests?”
Celegorm gritted his teeth. “Again, you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”
“But did you know how far it would go? How many losses you would suffer, how many battles you’d lose and how many fortresses would be taken? If you had, would you have married me?”
“I love you!” Celegorm insisted, his blue eyes wide and wild. “I have always loved you and wanted you by my side. It matters not what we face as long as we are together.”
“Do you not hear your own words?” You were yelling once again. “The horrors we have faced have been partially your own doing, you fool! We have been made refugees Eru knows how many times already, been rationing food and living in fear all because of a war you did not start but have certainly helped uphold with vigour!”
“Keep your voice down, many listening ears are turning our way.” Celegorm hissed, glancing around and the shadows of elves scurrying past you in the distance, no doubt wanting to get away from the yelling.
“Good, let them hear us,” you said sternly. “Now they’ll see you exactly as you are.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “And what is it, exactly, that I am, dear wife? A kinslayer? Murderer? Thief? I am many things but a liar is not one of them. I’ve always shown you exactly as I am, and you have accepted me until now. What has suddenly changed that entices you to hold this against me now?”
You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because you have not seen the error of your ways and refuse to change! I had hoped that as time went on you would mend that broken part of yourself and start choosing the path out of this darkness, but lately you have been rejecting that choice at every turn.”
“Everything I have done has been for a reason! There has been no error of my ways, nor do I need to change! I am simply doing what I swore to do and should not be punished for ensuring I see it through! You have not seen what I have seen, and yet you judge me for my actions. You have not been my wife as of late but a burden I must carry around, one that I can never make happy.” Celegorm’s rage was almost animalistic, like a wounded lion lashing out with anger. “If I’m such a horrible male, then go find someone better.”
With his final words, he yanked off the sapphire wedding ring from his finger, throwing it into the pool. You exhaled in shock, something inside of you breaking as the small but steady stream swept the ring away, carrying it into the deep crevices of the rock never to be seen again.
With a deep sadness, you looked into his eyes. The anger had subsided, and they were now wide as if for the first time in the entire argument, he couldn’t believe his actions. It was like a candle inside of you had been snuffed out - no longer was a scrap of the elf you fell in love with residing within the one before you. The Celegorm you loved was truly gone, replaced by a dark, angry shell of who he once was.
“You’re pathetic,” was all you whispered in disgust as the shock on his face changed into desperation.
“Shit, wait,” Celegorm pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to hold it within his own large ones. “I didn’t mean–”
“Yes, you did mean it.” You ripped your hand out of his grip before turning to leave. After a few steps, you paused, as if some final hope within you wanted him to follow.
But he didn’t.
You sighed, turning to face your lover for the last time. “Consider yourself freed from the burden of our marriage,” you said coldly. “I hope you get those Silmarils you seek so desperately, and when you finally hold them all you can think of is what it cost you. And as the blood on your hands from the kin you have slain stains their precious light, and all that you hold dear is gone and turned to ash, I pray that you think back on our courtship. I hope the image of me haunts your every waking moment; and not even Lórien himself can banish the ghost of my memory, even as it walks amidst your dreams. I hope the mere thought of me makes you feel sick until the end of time itself.”
