🖋️ Ship: Professor Adar x Student Mirdania (Mirdar? Adardania?)
📍 Setting: Modern Uni AU | Campus vibes | Office hours and surprise kittens
💫 Vibe: Fluff, books, slow-burn yearning, and a growing pile of purring distractions
Summary:
Mirdania never meant to fall for her Ancient Elvish & Folklore professor—
But he quotes Quenya like it’s foreplay, smells like old libraries and sage cologne, and genuinely understands her niche obsessions.
Cue:
🐈 an unexpected litter of kittens
📚 Adar in glasses!
☕ a very suspicious mug
🫣 one deeply oblivious, low-key devastatingly attractive professor
💘 one student very down bad
Adar thinks he’s just helping with research. He has no clue half the uni’s in love with him—or that one sweet, clever girl might be falling the hardest.
📚 Read now on AO3 → [Here]
🐱 Cuddle up with kittens, poetry, and painfully slow-burning affection
💬 Reblogs, kudos, and suspiciously long glances welcome!
🔥🌶️This one has a very spicy sequel in the making—just wait until Spice Week next month!
This is my first time writing for this ship! And it was inspired by the brilliant posts by @greenleaf4stuff of Adar in glasses! Thank you for such amazing inspo 😍
And thank you @itwillbeourswansong for the 'mug' additions!
Thank you @rivendellwatch for organising this event!
(all other parts of my "Of Convenience" verse) (my other TROP fanfics)
F/F aka Femslash, Fluff, Humor. Of Convenience AU, Mirdania/Gurlak-centric (my female uruk smith OC) for TROP Cozy Cuddles Week 2025. Set during of In Convenience (pre Chapter 5) and Inconvenienced. (The main fic itself is silverscars focused, but the pairing is only mentioned in this installment.)
So how exactly *did* Gurlak and Mirdania meet and build towards a friendship (and more) in my Of Convenience verse? A little glimpse into a progression of their relationship, told via a run-in almost-hug and two proper hugs.
Note: In the main fic, their relationship is portrayed as a friendship, but this is (in part) due to the fact that Adar and Celebrimbor are very much out of the loop. :P
Did not expect to ever write an F/F story for this fandom, nor a canon character/OC story, but here we are! I really wanted these two to become friends ever since I first wrote Gurlak into the story, since they are both smiths and yet so very different from one another. And then I got the idea of them interacting and began to think about what a romantic relationship between them would be like and - let’s just say this event is a great excuse to write some of it down. A big Thank You to @rivendellwatch for this lovely event, once again! <3 (Also please excuse any typos etc, I finished this fic on Saturday, edited half of it and used today to edit the rest.)
(Tagging @eowyn7023, @themalhambird, @janacariad, @itwillbeourswansong, @illegalcerebral and @acenby1999 as requested <3)
For those of you who want to read the fic on AO3, here is the link! <3 Enjoy!
Mirdania supposed it made sense, that she’d been asked to be part of the group that was sent to the orc – no, uruk, they called themselves uruk – camp to help with the sun tarps.
Sure, most of the other elves that had been asked were much taller than her, which was ideal for putting up the tarps and tying them to the existing structures, but almost none of them had interacted with the uruk before. Aside from Celebrimbor himself, only Mirdania had, though very briefly.
She still remembered how confused she’d been, when High King Gil-Galad and Commander Galadriel had marched into the forge, accompanied by two dozen uruk soldiers, weapons drawn at Annatar, calling him by the name Sauron.
It was not that she hadn’t suspected by then that the other wasn’t who he claimed himself to be. The way he’d changed after Celebrimbor’s disappearance from Eregion, which was in truth an escape, had shown her as much.
Having confirmation had been an entirely different thing, however. Though it did explain how the elves and the uruk had joined forces in the first place. Mirdania guessed that few other threats might have accomplished such a feat.
What she had been even more surprised by, was the willingness of one of the soldiers, whom she later on found out to be called Glug, to pull her from the forge and urge her to run. It had cost him dearly, his moment of carelessness, sending him tumbling down the stairs with a wound to the side.
Of course she had rushed after him – that blow had been meant for her, she was certain of it. And no matter how much she feared the orcs and their forces, this one had saved her.
Bringing him back to his people had still taken a bit of bravery, even after Celebrimbor himself had arrived and encouraged her to do so. She supposed being given the chance to get away from Sauron might have played a part in her willingness to do it anyways.
The uruk had been intimidating, but kinder than expected.; not only had they cared for Glug, they had also let her stay and treated her not like a former enemy, but someone they trusted. Her bringing in the wounded soldier was part of it, certainly, but also her mention of working with Celebrimbor himself.
Which had been another surprise, finding out that the uruk considered him not just as an important ally, but valued him for his bravery, his skills, and apparently, the way he’d managed to steer their leader in a a new direction. Away from besieging Eregion, as had been the original plan. She shuddered to even think about what that would have entailed for her and her peers.
Mirdania was lost in thought as she and the others neared the uruk camp, which was perhaps why she ended up not minding her step – and suddenly finding herself running into another person as she walked into the camp proper and made to turn a corner.
Twin 'oofs' could be heard, and the blonde elf was certain she would soon make an aquaintance with the ground due to just how solid the other person she’d just run into had been, only to find herself being caught and steadied before she could fall.
As the world spun around her for a moment, Mirdania reached out and grabbed whatever she could to get her bearings. Her hands found not one, but two strong biceps, so wide and muscular that her fingers did not even span half of them.
If that wasn’t enough, the hands that steadied her also were so wide and large that they easily caught her around her hips to keep her upright, as if she weighed hardly anything at all. She was almost certain that at one point, none of her own strength had been responsible for keeping her standing.
Through a few strands of blonde hair that had fallen into her face due to the collision, Mirdania looked up again, ready to apologize, only to find herself face to face with an uruk. That was, the uruk was so broad in build that there was hardly anything else she could look at from her own height. She had seen dwarves with leaner backs than this one.
The other looked at her with a look of surprise, but also, she found honest concern reflected on their face.
"You alright?" the other asked, and Mirdania realized with a start that this was a female uruk. She also couldn’t help but notice that the other was wearing a leather apron – different than the ones the elf and the other assistants in Celebrimbor’s employ wore, certaintly, as it was made out of a several large, patchworked pieces of leather and was held up by what might have once been parts of a bridle.
Could this be...a smith?
The elf found herself flabbergasted for a moment, before she managed to close her mouth and stutter out a response. "I uh- yes, yes I am," and then, as she realized that she had been the one to walk into the other and still had not apologized for it, "I am terribly sorry, I was just lost in thought- are you okay as well?"
The other looked as if not even an autumnal storm could move her if she didn’t wish it, but it couldn’t hurt to be polite and ask. Especially since the other didn’t seem the least bit annoyed or even bothered by having been run into.
The uruk looked at her in clear surprise, eyebrows raised before she slowly nodded. "I’m unharmed, don’t you worry," she replied, and after another small pause, continued to ask, "Do you think you can stand on your own?"
Mirdania blinked, and then realized that the other was still keeping her steady. And that she was still holding onto the uruk’s forearms. She looked down and felt her own eyes widen at the sight that presented itself to her – the uruks’s arms felt like solid rock in her grasp, but seeing them up close was somehow even more impressive. Especially so since elves, no matter their strength, did not typically look like this.
She also realized another thing, namely, that the uruk still had her hands around Mirdania’s waist; her hold had been so gentle that the elf hadn’t even been aware of it.
Her hands were indeed so large and broad that they did, in fact, encircle Mirdania’s whole waist. They looked almost like a wide belt, the way they were positioned, a nice contrast against her own, more delicate figure.
To her shock and mortification, Mirdania felt a thrill run through her at the thought.
No, no, no, absolutely not, this was neither the time nor the place-
And also, she still hadn’t answered the uruk’s question. She only hoped the other wouldn’t think lesser of her, with how ungainly and slow she was, both in movement and thought, at this moment.
Mirdania cleared her throat, somehow managed to tear her gaze away from the hands on her hips, and looked up at the uruk again. Whose eyes were quite intense. The same way she’d seen her leader, Adar, look at times. "I um- I think I can, yes. Thank you for- not letting me fall into the dirt," she said, and righted herself as the uruk slowly losened her hold on her.
"Sure," the other replied, and took a half-step back as she released Mirdania, first one hand, then the other, as if to be certain she truly was ready to stand on her own. Mirdania, similarly, was slow to take her own hands back from the other’s arms, and found her fingers rubbing together, tingling with the phantom sensation of the muscles and thick veins that she’d been touching.
The female uruk hooked her thumbs into the straps holding up her apron, forearms bulging as she continued to look at Mirdania. "You’re with the elves who’ve come for the sun tarps, aren’t you?" she asked.
Remembering her initial reason for coming into the camp, Mirdania stood up straight and did her best to pull her robes back into place, in order to look presentable. She was here on Eregion’s and Lord Celebrimbor’s behalf, after all. Making a good impression might be a little difficult after what had just happened, but she’d still make an effort. "Yes, I am. I was chosen because I was in this camp already, in fact-"
"Yeah, I remember," the uruk unexpectedly said. Mirdania felt her eyebrows raise as the other continued. "You brought in Glug, that day when Adar and the elves killed him, didn’t you?"
The elf stopped and stared, before realizing that she’d met this uruk before – in a full set of armor, and behaving much differently than she did now. Which might have been why the elven smith hadn’t recognized her. "You were the commander who questioned Glug when we stumbled into the camp."
"Not a commander, but close enough. Adar calls us lieutenants," the uruk explained, and pulled a face. "Though I must admit I’d much rather forge weapons than wield them, if I can help it."
And then she cleared her throat, and also stood up a little straighter, legs firmly planted as she looked Mirdania. "The name’s Gurlak, by the way. And whenever we aren’t short on lieutenants and do not need to chaperone an elven lord, I am actually a blacksmith."
Mirdania felt her curiosity overcome her embarrassment, as her eyes widened and she leant slightly closer towards the uruk in interest. The other seemed a tad surprised at the motion. "So you are indeed a smith as well!" only to catch herself and explain, "I – the leather apron and the toolbelt gave it away."
The other stared at her incredulously for a moment, blinking, before she tilted her head and asked, "Are you saying that you are a smith, too?"
Mirdania nodded. "Yes. In fact, I am one of Lord Celebrimbor’s assistants. I have been working with him for over a century, by now." She was rather proud of that, in fact. Not just because it was a huge honor for any smith to work with someone as talented and skilled as him, but because it had been an almost life-long dream of hers to do so, and she still cherished the opportunity every single day.
She winced, slightly, thinking back on how Annatar- no, Sauron, had been the only thing, the only person, to ever make her doubt her chosen path. Looking back, it almost felt as if she was looking on the actions of someone else, so much had the Deceiver managed to turn her against her own leader. The one she admired, and considered a friend.
Thankfully, she could not linger on these dark thoughts for long, when she heard Gurlak snort and study Mirdania from head to toe with the same, incredulous expression she had been wearing as the elf had revealed her profession. "Huh. Looks like you elves all are this...fragile looking, then," she explained. "I thought it was just Adar’s elf being an exception for looking so...willowy."
Mirdania blinked and then frowned in confusion, before she looked down her own form, and then back up at Gurlak. "Fragile looking?" The blonde elf understood that she did not have the same build as Gurlak did, or most of the uruk, who were trained for battle. But she didn’t look frail.
"You barely look as if you could hold up a hammer," Gurlak replied, shrugging, "Your lord is much the same way. I openly doubted his claims of being a smith when he and I first met."
Mirdania had been ready to argue that not everyone was built like a barrel, and especially not elves, and that she could give the other a demonstration of her strength and skill just fine, when-
"You- you thought Celebrimbor wasn’t-," she stammered, the very thought almost too absurd to entertain. "...Did you tell him as much?"
Gurlak nodded. The Mirdania’s surprise, she then rubbed the back of her neck and looked a little sheepish as she stared off to the side, free hand on her hip as she shifted her stance. "In my defense, I did not know who he was at the time. I only knew he was Adar’s elf- Adar’s husband," she corrected herself. "And as I said, he looked neither convincingly lord-like nor like a smith. Ours tend to look more like me," and she motioned at her own build.
Mirdania was stunned. "That...that must have been. Quite the discovery," she felt almost sympathetic. She still remembered how awestruck she’d been, when she realized that her friend and mentor had been the Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, grandson of Feanor himself.
Granted, she had not even reached maturity back then, but still.
Gurlak nodded, and then she grinned, "Oh, it was," and then she jerked her head towards the camp and turned half into the direction that Mirdania had intended to go. "I can tell you about it while we go over to join the others, if you’d like,…?"
She paused, and looked back at the elf, letting the sentence hang unfinished between them as if waiting for something. Mirdania, thankfully, seemed to have recovered enough to grasp at her unspoken question easily.
"Mirdania. My name is Mirdania," she explained, and then added with a look of consternation, "Apologies, I should have introduced myself right alongside you. My manners today are atrocious."
The other laughed, startling the blonde elf, who looked at Gurlak with yet more confusion. "Ah, don’t you worry. Considering how things used to be between our people, this is more than fine. I don’t mind," Gurlak explained, and then motioned for Mirdania to follow her as she walked up ahead. The elf was quick to try and catch up.
"So, when me and Celebrimbor first met, he really wanted to work in a forge again. Any forge, really. He was pretty desperate – called me Mistress Gurlak even. I feared he might sink to his knees and beg next-," the uruk started as they walked.
"Lord Celebrimbor wouldn’t beg," Mirdania insisted, only for Gurlak to look sideways at her and smirk.
"Yeah, you are right. But it was a pretty close thing-"
They spent the rest of the way to where the sun tarps would be erected talking back and forth, Gurlak gossiping about how Celebrimbor forgot the time and had to be retrieved by Adar as he worked in her forge, only for Mirdania to add that this had been a problem before him fleeing Eregion already, after which the two would exchange funny anecdotes about Adar and Celebrimbor respectively, and eventually end up discussing forgework, with both bantering back and forth about who of them might fashion the better, heavier weapons or the more intricate jewelry.
Safe to say, between their shared profession and the fact that they both worked quite closely with their respective leaders, the two ended up working together a few more times. Time passed far too quickly in each instance, to the point that the two often stayed behind when the others had already left to continue talking.
Gurlak would meet some of the other elven smiths, including the new apprentice, Nethiel, while Mirdania found herself being introduced to the other uruk smiths, most of which were Gurlak’s assistants. Soon, it stopped mattering whether one was an elf or an uruk, and only that they had a shared craft and interest in forgework.
One day, Gurlak and Mirdania had met in Eregion, only for Gurlak to stand beneath the forge tower and look up at it with an appreciative glance. The damaged roof was almost fully repaired by then, and the smithy itself in the process of being rebuilt as well – so hopefully, it would not remind Mirdania, Celebrimbor and the others of the time Annatar had resided there.
"The view from up there must be quite something," the uruk remarked as she studied the tower. Her tone was almost awed.
Before she even knew what she was doing, Mirdania suggested, "Do you want to go up there? Once the forge is finished?"
Gurlak seemed surprised, but when she looked at Mirdania, she smiled and nodded. "That would be nice."
Mirdania, who found herself enjoying Gurlak’s sparkling eyes and open smile far more than she had anticipated, quickly nodded back at her. "I’ll let you know when the reconstruction is finished. And then take you up there."
"Can I tag along too?" came a tentative voice from the side, with both Gurlak and Mirdania looking over to see that Nethiel had overheard their conversation, and was wearing a hopeful smile as she moved from one foot to the other. The apprentice had just joined the other smiths that worked with Celebrimbor, taking the spot of the late Taminor, and was rather eager to make some friends – uruk and elven alike.
"Of course," Mirdania confirmed, right as Gurlak said, "Sure, go ahead," only for the two of them to stare at each other and chuckle.
Nethiel looked between the two of them with an expression Mirdania couldn’t quite read. "On second thought, you really don’t have to-"
"Nonsense, feel free to tag along," Gurlak insisted, ever jovial despite her gruff demeanor. "It’ll be fun, to see what you lot have to say about this grand forge of yours." And then she patted Mirdania on the back, looking at her with a lopsided grin. "I’m going to go back to camp for the day. We’ll see each other tomorrow?"
"I certainly hope so!" Mirdania said, and gave Gurlak a grin of her own. "We do still have something to settle, after all."
Gurlak barked out a laugh. "By all means, be my guest. I still think it’s more likely I can make you some nice trinkets than for you to make an uruk weapon."
It had been a good-natured point of contention between the two of them for the last few days, with both of them being quite determined to prove the other wrong.
"You’ll eat your words tomorrow," Mirdania insisted, and felt her grin widen as Gurlak raised her eyebrows at the blonde’s choice of words in appreciation. Might be that the uruk had rubbed off on her, just a little bit.
"We’ll see about that," Gurlak replied, and then made to go.
Mirdania, out of an impulse that she could not explain – but wasn’t particularly concerned about indulging –, quickly stepped forward before the other could leave, reached up and she drew Gurlak into a hug. The other smith, who was usually quick to pat other people’s shoulders and back during conversations, stilled for only a moment, before she wrapped a careful arm around the elf’s waist and did indeed pat her back in response, though much more lightly than she would with her fellow uruk.
"I’ll see you tomorrow, then," Mirdania replied, and then added, "Get some good sleep. You’re gonna need it."
She felt a little giddy, when she drew back again and saw that Gurlak’s eyebrows had wandered up even further than they previously had. A motion that reminded the elf of Celebrimbor.
"Quite confident of your win, are you?" Gurlak replied, and then shook her head with a huff. Her smile turned oddly soft as she continued, "Take care of yourself as well. Till tomorrow."
She motioned to go, before she gave a nod and said a short goodbye to Nethiel as well, and then she was moving towards the gates.
Mirdania, who embarrassingly had almost forgotten about the apprentice, turned towards her, only to find the younger elf giving her a very peculiar look that she couldn’t quite place. "Anything the matter?" she asked with open confusion.
Nethiel continued to look at her for a short moment, before she shook her head and smiled, "No, nothing. I was just thinking how nice it is that more elves and uruk than just Lord Celebrimbor and the Lord Father are beginning to build friendships with each other, is all."
The way she put emphasis on 'friendship' made Mirdania think that there was something the blonde wasn’t quite aware of, or that the other deliberately left unspoken, but the elven smith couldn’t quite figure out what exactly that might be. She decided to take it as Nethiel being a bit awkward, perhaps, and simply smiled as she nodded. "That is very true. It is quite remarkable how far we’ve come together already, isn’t it?"
She still couldn’t parse why Nethiel continued to look at her so strangely, and the apprentice remained frustratingly vague when Mirdania attempted to question her further.
The three did have a bit of bad luck, trying to get into the smithy one late evening only a few weeks later; walking in on Adar and Celebrimbor, who had been talking quietly among themselves, standing together as if they’d just been about to kiss – and who knows what else – had not been something they had expected.
Though, the accident had leant itself quite well for gossiping among the uruk, and as a result, Celebrimbor’s assistants as well. If he hadn’t been so stressed over the preparations for the wedding feast, Mirdania would have pitied the older elf for the grins and giggles exchanged in the days immediately after.
As it was, he was far too involved with other matters to even notice, and so she was simply grateful he did not bring up the incident again and, unspokenly, agreed with him not to mention it.
She did, however, try again a few days later, when she’d overheard the other elven leaders giving the two husbands a day or two to have some time to themselves. Nethiel had claimed to be busy while throwing Mirdania yet another look she couldn’t parse, and so that left just the blonde elf and Gurlak to return to the forge tower a second time, again late in the evening.
This time, they didn’t run into anyone – the forge was deserted when they entered it, and was utterly quiet as a result. Mirdania had brought a lantern, and was the one to open the door and hold it open for the uruk smith to enter.
Now that they had time to take in the rebuilt forge at their own leisure, Gurlak seemed quite impressed with it. "Your forges do look quite different from ours," she remarked, as she looked at the large space with an appreciative glance, and went over to the tools, weighing them in her hands with obvious admiration.
Mirdania had seen the uruk forges in the camp, and had also heard Celebrimbor discuss them with his own builders at times; the uruk had made do with what they could scavenge and gather for centuries, and it showed in every aspect of their lives. The blonde elf bit her lip as she saw Gurlak look at everything with a look of open awe, the way Mirdania herself had when she’d been much younger, and permitted to visit a forge with Celebrimbor for the first time.
She was glad that he, too, found the state of things to be quite unacceptable, and was planning to help the uruk both with the construction of new, better smithies, as well as giving them materials and tools to use in them. And, as he’d apparently offered Gurlak, by sharing his own expertise, if she and the others wished it. Gurlak had seemed quite giddy as she recounted the conversation to Mirdania.
The blonde elf decided in that moment that she, too, would try and help with that endeavor. Gurlak had obvious passion for her craft, and while elves and uruk approached their creations quite differently, it was obvious that she could get great results with what she was given. As a fellow smith, Mirdania wanted her to have the chance to excel at her profession, and be afforded the same opportunities she herself had had.
Pondering this, she noticed Gurlak looking at her, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. "Everything alright? You’re not tired, are you?" The question was asked in a lighthearted, humorous manner, but there was honest concern underneath. It encompassed the uruk smith as a person quite aptly, in Mirdania’s opinion.
She smiled and quickly shook her head. "No, no, just- you remind me of myself, back when I stepped into a forge similar to this for the first time, is all," she said. "But enough of the reminiscing. I promised I’d show you this place, after all. What do you want to see first?"
She had no idea how long they spent, going over everything, from the forge itself to the tools, the worktables, the various sketches and scrolls, and even the murals that had been painted onto the walls. Gurlak and Mirdania took delight in chuckling over Adar’s and Celebrimbor’s mural, and what they’d heard about their love confession, with Gurlak’s humor putting Mirdania at ease once more.
Once they had finished, the blonde elf turned towards the balcony doors, where she’d seen Gurlak peak from time to time. "You seem to be quite eager to see the view from up here as well. Shall we go outside?"
"That would be great, yes," Gurlak said, and barely hid her excitement behind her humor. "That was the original reason we came here, after all, if I recall correctly."
"Apologies for holding you up with boring forge talk, then," Mirdania quipped back, but her smile was gentle and she winked as she said it, causing Gurlak to laugh while Mirdania stepped over and opened the door, before motioning the uruk smith to step outside with a flourish.
"Heh, nah, no worries. I found it surprisingly interesting," the other replied with a grin of her own, and affected an almost-bow before she stepped outside, Mirdania soon following behind her.
The sight from up so high was indeed very beautiful; Mirdania and Celebrimbor had been up on this balcony before, back when the older elf had shown the Ithildin to her for the first time. While their talk itself was a welcome memory, it was still tainted by the fact that Sauron himself had been standing down by the gate, looking up at them, even then casting a long shadow over Eregion.
Thankfully, Mirdania could not linger on that for long, as Gurlak made an appreciative noise and stepped up to the balustrade, hands on it as she looked over Ost-In-Edhil, which was a sea of green, white, gold clothed in the deep blue of night, studded with countless small, orange dots; hundreds of little flames from lanterns and candles lighting the city.
The elf soon stepped up and similarly leaned on the balustrade to Gurlak’s side, smiling as she saw the other take in the city lights. "That is a pretty great view," the uruk said, sounding deeply approving as she looked around.
"The city is indeed quite beautiful like this," Mirdania agreed, and then gently nudged the other smith’s arm, who turned towards her. Jerking up her chin, the blonde lifted her eyes to the sky, "But further up is an even more impressive sight."
Looking up, there were countless twinkling stars above them, thousands, set against a blanket of a deep, dark night sky, unobstructed by any clouds. The moon had to be somewhere behind the tower, as Mirdania couldn’t quite see it from her position, but its light fell over the city as well, a contrast to the little flames that shone below.
"Indeed, it is," Gurlak said, an unexpected tone to her voice. When Mirdania looked at her again, the uruk wasn’t looked at the sky at all, but at her.
A thrill ran through her at the realization. But did the other really- could she- surely she wasn’t-?
The two of them looked at each other for a long moment, and Mirdania found herself faltering, as she smiled and looked up at the stars again, even as she asked herself what she was doing.
Flustered, she pointed at the first star she recognized, and began to tell Gurlak about it. The uruk remained quiet, did not pry, and soon, they were both talking about the constellations they could make out, with the other smith once again using her skill at humor to make Mirdania laugh – it seemed she always found a cluster of stars that had a particularly funny shape, and she was determined to point all of them out to the elf.
"That looks like an anvil," she claimed, as both of them stood and had to look straight up at an uncomfortable angle, "How can you not see it? Look, that star over there-"
"It looks like a saddle," Mirdania insisted, and turned, once again, in the hopes of finding a better angle, before she leant against the wall. She’d been up and on her feet all day, and her legs were beginning to crave a chance to sit down.
"Uh-huh. Sure," Gurlak replied, but as Mirdania looked at her, that look of concern from earlier was back on her face. "You look uncomfortable. Wanna go back?"
Mirdania quickly shook her head. "No, not at all, it’s just – my legs are a bit tired, is all," she tried to reassure the other.
Gurlak looked a tad surprised, before she looked at the point where the tower wall met the balcony, and simply said, "Why don’t we sit down, then?" As if it was the most obvious thing to do. Perhaps to her, it was, considering she was still wearing her work clothes – it seemed to only have one set of spare clothes, if Mirdania wasn’t mistaken.
"On the floor?" Mirdania asked, confused, only for Gurlak to nod at her. "But- that is-"
"All of this city looks very clean, and there’s not a lot of people up here anyways. We’ll be fine," Gurlak said and, true to her words, went over, leant against the wall, and slid to the floor, one knee propped up and the other leg outstretched, quickly placing an arm onto that raised knee as well.
Mirdania herself remained standing, torn between her sense of propriety – and a slight worry for her dress –, and the desire to sit down for a moment.
Her thoughts came to a halt when Gurlak motioned her over with a jerk of her head. "Come, Mirdania. If you’re so concerned for your dress, I can give you my leather apron to sit on-," and then she made to take it off, only for the elven smith to hold up her hands and quickly step towards her.
"Oh no, that is very kind of you, but not neccessary at all-" she said to the other. Gurlak gave her a dubious glance, which ultimately made the decision for the elf to walk over.
"Alright," Gurlak replied, slow, and then continued, "Tell you what, how about you sit between my legs? You can lean back against me. It’ll be a lot more comfortable."
Once again, Mirdania stopped. Gurlak looked surprisingly hopeful, sitting at her feet, looking up at the elven smith – which didn’t happen very often, considering the other was of greater size than her – and no ounce of humor in her voice.
The blonde elf had the same feeling she’d felt earlier, as Gurlak had looked at her. Again, she threatened to fluster, to argue that she was fine as she was, she wasn’t a lady who needed to be pampered, she could sit on the floor, truly, except-
No.
Had she not been among those who had – fondly – rolled their eyes at the fact that Adar and Celebrimbor had needed so long, both to realize their own feelings and act on them? Hadn’t she thought that, if she ever even had a chance to have a piece of what they had, she’d grasp it with both hands and hold onto it, especially so after surving the return of Sauron himself?
And yet, here she was, with Gurlak, who looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky, who had lifted Mirdania onto her shoulder a few days earlier like it was no hardship at all, in order to help her with the tarps? And had been so careful, when she sat the other down again, that she wouldn’t stumble – and that Gurlak wouldn’t pinch anything, or be too rough with her.
'Oh, I am as much of a fool as Celebrimbor, aren’t I?' she thought, a little furious at herself, before she tucked that feeling away; she did still have time to remedy this, and she wouldn’t let a second chance pass her by. She, and Gurlak, had endured too much those days leading up to Sauron’s death to be a coward now.
And so she took a breath, and allowed a smile to spread across her face, as she said, "Oh, how thoughtful of you – thank you," with a little bit of mirth, and then moved gracefully onto the floor, until she knelt between Gurlak’s legs, looking at the other, before she turned herself around and moved backwards, until her back came to rest against the uruk’s chest.
Gurlak was unexpectedly warm, even through the leather apron. And just as solid as the elf knew her to be.
The uruk drew in a surprised breath and stilled, if only for a moment, before she slowly began to untense once more. "Sure," she said, sounding a little faint. Mirdania couldn’t help but grin in response. "You’re welcome."
'I bet I am,' Mirdania thought, but decided not to say these words out loud – not quite yet, anyways.
Instead, she boldly went and picked up Gurlak’s arm, the one she hadn’t propped up on her knee, and moved it around her own waist, and then laid her own arms over it.
"You were right, it is quite comfortable. I even got a place to rest my arms," Mirdania replied, aiming for levity and starkly aware that her voice, too, was slightly trembling with sudden nervousness.
It did not last for long, as the arm around her slightly tightened and drew her back further. "Glad to hear it," the other said.
They both fell silent for a little while, as Mirdania felt Gurlak breathe behind her, slightly uneven, and felt her heartbeat through her own back, a little faster than would be usual for an elf – and for an uruk, too, it seemed, as it began to slow down again after a moment.
"So," Gurlak eventually said, clearing her throat, before she used her free arm to point up again. "Still an anvil. You have just been around horses for too long, unlike me, who spends her days and nights-"
"Oh, you – you are not spending 'day and night' in the forges. And that is clearly a saddle, look-," Mirdania replied, laughter in her voice, and soon the two of them were fondly arguing over the constellation again, the blonde elf leaning back against the uruk smith, holding onto her arm as Gurlak did the same with her waist. Tight, but never uncomfortable.
They spent a long time up there, holding one another – so long, in fact, that they had seemingly fallen asleep, judging by the fact that they found themselves still on that balcony when they awoke again.
They did so with Gurlak’s arms around Mirdania’s middle, providing her with warmth, while Mirdania’s head had tilted to the side and was resting against Gurlak’s chest, right over her heart, hands still holding onto the uruk’s forearms, both of them waking up to birdsong and a blanket that had been cast over them.
As well as Nethiel, wearing a very smug grin and carrying to cups of tea, one in each hand, as she looked down at them.
"Good morning, you two," she chirped, her good mood apparent, and knelt down to hold out the tea. "You have no idea how rich you two have just made me. I am taking home all the other smiths’ bets today."
Mirdania, still sleepy, and only just beginning to be embarrassed, had reached out for the tea, when she realized what the other had just said. Gurlak, however, was much faster.
- After an hour of careful kisses and a lively game of chase through the forest, I have finally gotten my kitten to rest for the day. For his comfort, I have left my chest bare, as he seems to have less of an issue with terrors in his morning snooze. I had him settle in his beautiful thicket for extra comfort. His hollow tree bed is, as Adar calls it, his sanctuary.-
Elrond-*It occurs to me that perhaps uruk sleep during the day as less threatening types who enjoy the sun are awake at this hour. They are, after all, tormented creatures seeking solace, for they know what lurks in the dark places of the world.* -Such brave, resilient folk they are.-
*My thoughts are soon interrupted by the fine-laced breaths of my sweet uruk. The gentle streams that push against my skin send a zip of tingling that spreads about the area as if fresh healing waters had been popping there one drop at a time. Tears tug at my eyes as I stare down at Adar's beautiful sleeping face.*
*I can't resist the urge to stroke his cheek. Each caress is as gentle as the one before it.*
Adar- *My pet is fast asleep, snuggling closer, letting out whimpers of various sorts with each of my gentle touches. Even in his sleep, his submission is breathtakingly majestic. With his neck fully exposed while splayed over my chest, the sun beams bounce off the beautiful scars life has granted him.*
Elrond-* I place a hand over my lips, feeling my heart skip with the sound of leaves in the breeze.* You truly are one of the most beautiful men in my life... I wish you could see as I do. *My fascination with his scars begs me to allow my fingers to play with each curve and imperfection they provide.* You are as lovely as the sun, you sleep beneath my dear.
Adar- *His sleeping form shifts, letting out what sounds like a small mew of a tiger cub at rest. His even breathing chest and small mewing snores are like medicine for the eyes and candy for the heart. He then shifts, draping a leg over me to pull me closer. A low, sleepy growl rolls out of his mouth before his snoring mewing returns.*
Elrond- *I feel as if my heart will burst.* How did I ever become lucky enough to witness such a sweet moment? *My urge to protect him now grows stronger.*
* Again, I can't keep my hands to myself, as they need to pet his gorgeous raven locks*
Adar- *A warbling half-mewing-coo escaped his throat as he wiggled closer to set his head over my heart. His tongue inevitably slipped out and idly began licking the spot. Soon, he began to whimper much like a kitten in distress. Then my darling's movements shifted sharply with a face twisting closer to anguish.*
Elrond- *As usual, when I'm hyper-focused and quick to react. I hold him tightly, petting the bridge of his nose*
*In a hushed tone, I speak to him.* I have you, Darling. Chase the terror away. *I kiss the top of his head*
Adar- *A sleepy growl falls from his lips as his eyelids part when he lifts to look at me. An almost reptilian-like trîl lazily rolls out of his throat before he licks the side of my face and lies back down. However, he isn't satisfied until he snatches my hand to nibble lightly. Only then does he return to sleep with mewing snorts.*
Elrond- *I can't afford to starve off sleep any longer. But I certainly will continue to try if it means I get to witness this beautifully rare sight a moment longer. Right now, my heart feels as if it is whole.*
I just posted my first entry for Cozy Cuddle Week! Thank you for organizing this event @rivendellwatch
I was so excited I wrote this in a hour late last night so forgive me if there are any weird typos. I edited it this morning, but I always manage to miss at least one or two.
This story mentions Celebrimbor, Adar, and Narvi, but centers around my Uruk OCs, Shazzash and Uzog, and my Elf OC, Thalion. They were all introduced in my Celebrimbor X Adar fanfic A Light in Dark Places.
Summary: Thalion, the disastrous Elven smith and Uzog, the weirdly friendly Uruk, are definitely NOT scared. Not of Shazzash's scary stories, not of the lightning storm in the middle of the night, and not of Sauron's eventual return to Eregion and revenge against Celebrimbor and Adar. It's just bad manners to abandon one's friend all alone in a guard room, the last line of defense against whatever evil things hide in the dark. Neither Thalion nor Uzog wants to be a bad friend!
・❥・“For a little while longer, Isildur didn’t have to be anything but a boy on his horse, chasing nothing but the quiet.”
The stable smelled of hay, seawater, and a hint of apples.
Isildur pushed open the wooden door gently, careful not to wake any of the other horses. The moonlight spilled in behind him, silvering the straw-covered floor. Most of the city slept now, their hearths burned low, but rest still eluded him.
There was only one place that ever truly settled his mind.
“Evening, old friend,” he whispered.
Berek stood in his stall, head lifting at the sound of Isildur’s voice. He gave a low snort, as if mildly offended it had taken this long for his rider to visit.
Isildur chuckled. “I know, I know. I got distracted.” He stepped closer, reaching out to scratch just beneath the horse’s mane. “But I brought something.”
From his coat pocket, he produced a slightly squished apple, the last from their kitchen’s fruit bowl. Berek perked up immediately, ears twitching forward.
“Now that gets your attention,” Isildur muttered fondly, offering the treat.
Berek took it gently, crunching contentedly while Isildur leaned against the stall door, watching him. The rhythmic chewing was oddly soothing.
He closed his eyes for a moment. The stables were quiet, save for the occasional shuffling hooves, and the distant lap of waves beyond the city wall. Wind drifted through the small window above them, bringing with it the scent of brine and stars.
“You know,” Isildur murmured, voice soft and far away, “there are days I think about leaving everything. Just taking you, and riding until the sea is behind us. No duties. No destiny. Just you and me, chasing the horizon.”
Berek nudged him with his nose.
Isildur smiled. “Not very noble of me, is it?”
He ran a hand down Berek’s neck, letting the silence speak.
Eventually, he unlatched the stall, and Berek stepped out with a practiced ease. They moved together through the back exit and into the open fields beyond the stables - just past the cliff’s edge, where the stars opened above them in full.
Isildur climbed onto his back without saddle or bridle. They didn’t need it tonight.
They simply stood there - rider and horse beneath the constellations - breathing as one, moonlight glinting in their eyes, the world hushed around them.
And for a little while longer, Isildur didn’t have to be anything but a boy on his horse, chasing nothing but the quiet.
Nori and Poppy are best friends, and when one is cold, the other does her best to warm her up. Gen rating, fluff and giggles. No story only good vibes.
Nori shifted, making sure that every square inch of her skin was flush to Poppy’s warm, soft skin.
“ Thanks”, she whispered, letting her head fall in the hollow of her friend's round shoulder. Poppy snorted.
"Archaeology and Other Poor Life Choices", a Sam Hazeldine x Reader ficlet!
Bucky's note: I wrote this unhinged slice of domestic fluff for Cozy Cuddle Week hosted on @rivendellwatch during my break this morning/before this afternoon's exam (pray for me/or don't, I'm gonna ghoulboss it anyway)🖤✨ Honestly, this is just pure comfort chaos — Sam being an absolute menace, reader trying to survive it with dignity, and both of them somehow ending up at the British Museum covered in flour. It’s soft, silly, and written entirely for the joy of it.
Might add more to this later if inspiration (or Sam) attacks again — but for now, enjoy the ridiculousness 🥞🖼️🖤
You wake up to the smell of… is that burning?
Yes. Yes, it is. Burning. Something is on fire.
You shoot upright in bed, hair sticking out like a startled porcupine, and fling yourself out of the covers like you’re being drafted into war. There’s a crash in the kitchen. A muffled curse.
You sprint. (Well. Hobble. Your leg is asleep and you have no balance and honestly? You look like a Muppet. Kermit better watch out to be honest.)
You skid into the kitchen just in time to see Sam standing in a cloud of smoke, holding what you can only describe as charred regret on a pan.
He’s shirtless. In sweatpants. Hair a mess. Flour streaked across his cheek like he lost a fight with a Victorian ghost.
“…Don’t panic,” he says, immediately telling you to panic.
You blink. “What is that?”
He stares down at the blackened, unrecognizable shape on the pan. “It was going to be a pancake.”
You stare at it. “Sam. That’s a hate crime against breakfast.”
“I got cocky,” he says solemnly. “I tried to flip it mid-air. Like a man. With hubris.”
You press a hand to your mouth, trying not to laugh. Or scream. Or marry him on the spot.
“Okay,” you say carefully. “Let’s regroup. We can salvage this. Did you—did you use oil? Or butter? Or… a fire extinguisher?”
“I used hope,” he says, deadpan. “And like three eggs.”
You cackle, full goblin-mode now, and he grins like you’re his favorite disaster.
Then, with the bravado of someone who has absolutely nothing to lose, he picks up the pan, wiggles his eyebrows at you, and says: “Breakfast is served, my love.”
You back away like he’s wielding a cursed relic. “I’m calling for takeout.”
Sam throws the pan in the sink with a dramatic clang and lunges after you, laughing. You shriek, dodge, slip, and end up tackled onto the couch in a heap of limbs and wheeze-laughs.
“You’re an idiot” you giggle, as he peppers flour-dusted kisses across your face.
He hums. “Thank you darling, I do try.”
You’re still lying in a tangle of limbs on the couch, catching your breath and trying not to inhale more flour than oxygen, when Sam lifts his head off your shoulder, his eyes bright with manic optimism.
“I could make toast,” he announces, as if he’s just invented the wheel.
You stare at him, deadpan. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you just turned pancake batter into a crime scene. Toast is step two in the culinary death spiral.”
He props himself up on one elbow, looking somehow both wounded and smug. “Okay. Mean. But fair.”
You brush a smudge of flour off his cheek, then immediately get distracted because you realize his eyelashes are stupidly long and his smile is doing that thing again.
He kisses your nose—your actual nose like he’s a Victorian poet—and then goes, far too casually, “We could go to that café you like. Before the museum.”
Your brain short-circuits.
“What museum?” you ask, suspicious.
Sam’s smile widens. He’s clearly far too pleased with himself. “The British Museum.”
You blink. “You’re taking me to the British Museum?”
He nods like he’s just announced a honeymoon. “I have a plan. A full date. Timeline. I even packed snacks.”
“You what—”
“I was gonna make pancakes as the romantic opening to the museum day,” he says, somehow managing to sound both sheepish and weirdly proud. “But then I tried to flip one and the fire alarm told me to get therapy.”
You stare at him in awe. “You really tried to seduce me with ancient artifacts and carbs.”
“I am an ancient artifact,” he says, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “And you do like carbs.”
You burst out laughing, head thunking back against the cushions. “You’re a menace.”
“And yet,” he grins, leaning down to nuzzle against your cheek, “you still let me tackle you on the couch with burnt offerings and surprise dates.”
You groan, but it’s mostly fond. “Fine. But I get to pick the café. And you’re not allowed within five feet of any toaster.”
“Deal,” he says solemnly, holding up three floury fingers like he’s swearing an oath. “Now get dressed. I wanna show you a bunch of mummies and pretend we’re in The Mummy so I can yell ‘save the girl!’ and carry you dramatically past tourists.”
“…If you don’t, I’ll be disappointed.”
He grins like the absolute menace he is and runs off shouting something about “matching outfits” and “museum snacks” like this is a heist, not a date.
And despite the chaos, the kitchen smoke, and the suspicious lack of clean socks, you already know today’s gonna be perfect.
