Hiii, I see the post of the daring surprise kiss and i like it 😔 could you do the same but with Lindir, Haldir, Elrohir and Elladan ?
elves react to a daring surprise kiss from reader/you while drunk on wine at a festival.
how would the elves react to this?
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Lindir, haldir, elrohir, elladan Versions are below.
🎶𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓻
♫ The Starlight Festival in Rivendell was a night to remember, filled with the shimmer of lanterns casting soft, golden light across the shimmering landscape, and the music of harps, flutes, and voices intertwining in harmony. It was a time when even the most serious of Elves couldn’t help but be swept up in the magic of the evening. The air was alive with an unspoken sense of celebration, with laughter ringing through the valley, and Lindir, as always, stood at the heart of it. His music enchanted all who gathered, his voice a calming presence that seemed to pull at the very soul, and tonight, his performance was no different. The crowd watched with rapt attention as he strummed the strings of his harp, lost in the beauty of his craft. But you, perhaps a little more affected by the wine than usual, stood near the back, caught up in the magic of the evening. The music felt as though it was wrapping itself around you, pulling you closer to Lindir’s voice. It was a spell, a song that moved through you like a current, and without fully understanding why, you found your feet moving, guided by the music and the overwhelming pull of the moment.
♫ The crowd seemed to blur as you swayed forward, your vision narrowing to Lindir at the front of the stage. His hair, dark and falling in perfect waves, framed his delicate features, and his hands, graceful and fluid, moved expertly over the strings of his harp. His concentration was absolute—he was lost in his performance, his back straight, his eyes focused on the strings in front of him. There was no hint that he even noticed you drawing closer, his entire being wrapped in the melodies he was creating. And then, in an instant, the music no longer mattered, nor did the world around you. The moment felt like it stretched, and before you could fully register what was happening, your body moved of its own accord. You closed the distance between the two of you in a heartbeat, leaning forward, and, as if swept away by an unbidden impulse, you pressed your lips against his. It was sudden, a bold move that was uncharacteristic of you—a kiss that broke all the propriety and restraint you’d known. And then, just as suddenly, you pulled back, your heart racing from the unexpectedness of it all.
♫ For Lindir, everything stopped in an instant. The music, the laughter, the rhythm of the festival—all of it vanished as he froze. His mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. His eyes widened in shock, unable to process the sudden intrusion of your kiss. The warmth of your lips lingered on his, but his body was still locked in a state of complete disbelief. His heart leapt into his throat, thundering loudly in his chest as his face turned a deep crimson, almost matching the soft glow of the lanterns hanging above him. His pointed ears, usually so serene, flushed a bright shade of pink as well, betraying the depth of his embarrassment. His gaze flickered briefly to the crowd, and for a split second, the realization hit him with a visceral force: this was not just a private moment. This had happened in front of an entire audience. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and the weight of all the eyes on him threatened to crush him under its intensity. His worst fear had come to life—exposure. He was no stranger to the spotlight, but this was different. This was not the performance he had prepared for. It wasn’t part of the planned act. In an instant, Lindir’s carefully cultivated control slipped through his fingers like sand, and all he could feel was the burning sensation of humiliation flooding through him. His hands, trembling slightly, faltered as they reached for the strings of his harp. He stammered, struggling to regain his composure, but his voice failed him. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His mind, usually so sharp and composed, had gone completely blank. He tried to find his next note, but it was as if the music itself had disappeared. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and for a moment, he didn’t even know if he could breathe. Desperation, confusion, and panic surged within him as he cast a quick glance toward the crowd. They were still staring—some in shock, others whispering amongst themselves, but all of them waiting for him to react. It was like being caught in a dream, one where he was powerless to change the course of events. His body moved of its own accord. In a moment of panic, Lindir pulled away from the edge of the stage, stepping backward so quickly that his foot almost caught on the edge of the platform. His hands fumbled to place the harp back in position, though his fingers were stiff and clumsy.
♫ “Continue without me,” he muttered, his voice strained and barely audible. His words were not directed at anyone in particular but to the musicians who were still playing behind him. He couldn’t focus. His mind was too scattered, too overwhelmed by the moment to continue. His gaze shifted back to the crowd, still watching him, waiting for him to recover. But he couldn’t. His composure, so carefully guarded, was shattered beyond repair. With a near frantic urgency, Lindir bowed his head and began to step back further into the shadows, his feet quick, almost stumbling in his haste. He didn’t even glance at you, couldn’t bear to meet your eyes in that moment. His only thought was to escape, to put as much distance between himself and the spotlight as possible. The music played on behind him, but the silence in his mind was deafening.
♫ Once backstage in the garden of Rivendell, hidden from the eyes of the crowd, Lindir leaned against the cool stone walls, pressing his palm to his forehead, trying to calm the storm inside him. His breath came in shallow gasps, and though the crowd’s murmurs were muffled, he could still hear their whispers echoing in his mind. What had just happened? What did it mean? His pulse raced, and the heat in his cheeks refused to abate. He wasn’t just mortified by the kiss itself—no, it was the exposure, the attention that had accompanied it. He couldn’t fathom why you had done it, or if it had been a mistake. All he knew was that he was drowning in a sea of confusion. The warmth of your kiss lingered on his lips, and his mind couldn’t seem to shake it. Something stirred deep inside him—something that both frightened and intrigued him—but his own self-consciousness overwhelmed it. He didn’t know how to process it. His head spun with embarrassment, and for the first time in a long while, he felt completely out of control. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to—and one that made him deeply uncomfortable. In the solitude of the backstage gardens, Lindir stood, trying to calm himself, but it was no use. He needed time. Time to process. Time to recover from the unexpected onslaught of emotions that had caught him entirely off guard.
♫ Time passed, though it felt like an eternity, and the festival continued without him. Eventually, the laughter and music faded into the background as the night grew darker. You, too, found yourself retreating from the crowd, seeking solace or perhaps an answer to what had transpired. It was then, in the quiet of the backstage area, that you found Lindir, standing with his back to you, his posture stiff, his shoulders tense. His eyes were closed as if he were trying to block out the world around him. When you approached, he didn’t turn, as though afraid to face you—or perhaps afraid of what he might find in your eyes. Finally, after a long moment, he exhaled shakily, his voice barely above a whisper, the words almost trembling with the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “I… I did not expect such a… sudden gesture,” he confessed, his hands fidgeting at his sides as if he were unsure of what to do with them. His gaze remained averted, staring at the ground in front of him. “I… I apologize for retreating so quickly, but… I was not prepared for… that. And with so many watching…” He swallowed hard, as if trying to steady his emotions. “Please, do not think poorly of me. I… I was not offended… only… overwhelmed.” For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Lindir’s voice quivered slightly, betraying the anxiety that roiled beneath the surface of his composed exterior. His eyes flicked upward toward you, a nervous glance, before they quickly darted away again, as if afraid to hold your gaze. His discomfort was palpable, and yet there was something else, something deeper in his eyes—something that spoke of confusion and uncertainty, but also a spark of something more, something he didn’t quite know how to name.
♫ Despite his shyness and the shock of the moment, he couldn’t entirely hide the warmth in his expression, the faint glimmer of vulnerability that flickered beneath his usual reserve. “I… I do not know what to think just yet,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself. “But I cannot deny… that what you did… affected me. Perhaps in ways I cannot yet understand.” His words were soft, unsure, but there was an openness in his voice that you hadn’t expected. In his flustered state, the barrier he so often kept between himself and others had lowered, if only slightly, and the rawness of the moment had exposed a side of him that was rarely seen. “I… I need time,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, as he finally looked up at you, his gaze steady for the briefest moment. “Please, be patient with me.” And as Lindir, the ever-composed minstrel, stood before you, still shaken but honest in his emotions, you sensed that this unexpected, vulnerable moment might be the beginning of something deeper between you both—something that would take time, understanding, and perhaps a little more courage from both sides to fully explore.
🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻
➳ The Starlight Festival was a night that would forever be remembered in Lothlórien, the realm of the Elves bathed in the soft light of the stars above. It was an evening of reverence, where the Elves honored the celestial bodies—those ancient lights that had guided their people for eons. Songs were sung, stories were shared, and the air was filled with an otherworldly energy as the Elves celebrated the constellations, weaving tales of the Firstborn, the Valar, and the timeless beauty of the stars. Haldir stood at the edge of the gathering, as he always did. As a sentinel, his duty was to protect the lands of Lothlórien. His eyes were sharp, his senses alert. Despite the festive atmosphere, his posture was stoic and commanding, ever watchful for any sign of danger. He stood just outside the main circle of revelers, the flickering lantern light casting shadows across his face, his silver hair catching the glow of the stars above. Every now and then, his eyes would shift toward the group, ensuring everything was in order, his gaze lingering on the movement of the dancers or the hushed conversations that drifted on the night breeze.
➳ You, on the other hand, had immersed yourself in the warmth of the festival. The wine had loosened your usual reserve, and you found yourself swept up in the joy and music that filled the air. Elves sang ancient songs with haunting melodies, their voices intertwining with the rustling of the trees. You were surrounded by friends and revelers, each lost in their own reflections on the stars, but your eyes kept drifting back to Haldir. As the evening wore on, the effects of the wine began to take hold, and the world around you felt a little softer, a little more daring. You giggled to yourself as you swayed slightly to the rhythm of the music, your eyes catching Haldir’s stern yet watchful gaze. There was something about the quiet sentinel standing alone in the shadows that intrigued you—a quiet strength in his stoicism that you found strangely magnetic. And tonight, under the spell of the wine and the soft moonlight, you felt emboldened.
➳ A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and before you could second-guess yourself, you made your way toward him. The movement of the crowd seemed to part in front of you as you drew closer, your steps slightly unsteady but your heart racing with excitement. Haldir was caught off guard as you approached him, his eyes narrowing as he saw the mischievous gleam in yours. He straightened slightly, his instincts flaring, but he remained still, knowing that he could easily keep watch and remain alert. You, however, had other plans. Without warning, you reached up and kissed him. It was a sudden, daring act that caught him completely off guard, your lips pressing against his before he could react. His eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. His breath caught in his throat, and the cool evening air seemed to freeze around him.
➳ His body stiffened, his hand automatically reaching out to steady you, though it lingered uncertainly, not sure how to respond. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the bold, unexpected gesture. He flushed slightly, his cheeks tinged with an unexpected warmth. This was not the Haldir who remained composed and in control, always vigilant. No, tonight, this was a Haldir who was thoroughly disarmed—caught between surprise, confusion, and something else he couldn’t quite name. You pulled away, grinning cheekily, your breath still light from the wine. The moment hung between you, and for a heartbeat, you both just stared at each other, the tension palpable. “What are you doing?” Haldir finally muttered, his voice low, though it had a slight edge to it—almost a mix of disbelief and something more soft, something vulnerable. His eyes flicked quickly to the surrounding elves, making sure no one else had witnessed the kiss. He muttered under his breath, as if trying to make sense of the situation, “You’ve made me vulnerable… in front of the stars.”
➳ Despite his words, his hand remained on your arm, and his fingers tightened slightly, as if he was making sure you were still standing, still alright. His usually stoic expression had faltered, replaced with a flush that was difficult for him to hide. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, but his gaze flickered back to you with an unspoken question—one that he couldn’t quite ask. “Did you think this was wise?” he added, his voice now tinged with something that wasn’t quite frustration, but more concern—an odd mixture of reprimand and care. The flush on his face deepened, though it wasn’t entirely from irritation. “I do not believe the wine has done you any favors.” You let out a breathy laugh, your tipsy grin widening as you took a small step back, admiring the way his usually controlled demeanor was starting to crack under the weight of the unexpected kiss. Haldir, ever the protector, straightened, but you could see a slight shake of his head, a frustrated yet amused chuckle escaping his lips. “You are a distraction I did not plan for,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the moment, but there was a glint of something softer in his eyes. He wasn’t angry, not truly—just flustered, unsure how to react to something so outside of the norm for him. A small part of him was irked—by the suddenness, by the boldness—but a much larger part was… well, charmed, whether he liked it or not.
➳ Haldir turned his gaze away for a moment, his jaw tightening as he rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to regain composure. He could already feel the weight of his brothers’ teasing in the back of his mind. Rumil and Orophin were bound to notice his discomfort, and the teasing would be relentless for weeks. He could already hear Rumil’s mischievous laughter, hear the way Orophin would press him for details with that knowing smirk. “Well, this will be something I will never live down,” he muttered under his breath, though it was more to himself than to you. But despite his frustration, he couldn’t quite stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Though he would never admit it, a part of him enjoyed the way you had shaken him from his usual stoic reserve. You had thrown him off balance, and while he would undoubtedly scold you, the brief moment of shared connection—however unexpected—left something lingering in the air between you. “What will I do with you?” he finally sighed, his voice tinged with something warmer than before. It was a playful sigh, one that hinted at his growing fondness, despite the teasing that was undoubtedly coming his way.
➳ As if on cue, the sound of light footsteps reached your ears, and a familiar voice called out from behind you, tinged with amusement. “Well, well, look who’s making moves,” said Rumil, Haldir’s younger brother, his grin wide and clearly enjoying the spectacle. His eyes flickered between you and Haldir, mischief dancing in his gaze. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Before Haldir could respond, Orophin, the elder of the two brothers, leaned in, his expression filled with amusement. “Haldir, you’re a bit more popular than I thought. Or should I say… ‘charmed’?” He raised an eyebrow playfully, clearly relishing in the moment. Haldir’s eyes narrowed, flicking between his two brothers before settling back on you. There was a quiet exasperation in his gaze, though beneath it, a warmth you hadn’t expected. He sighed, his voice low and resigned. “This will be talked about for weeks,” he muttered, knowing full well that his brothers wouldn’t let him live this down anytime soon. Rumil, practically bubbling with laughter, slapped a hand on Haldir’s back with exaggerated sympathy. “You should know by now, brother, that you’re always a target for mischief.” He couldn’t hold back his chuckles as he spoke, clearly enjoying his brother’s discomfort. Haldir shot him a look that was sharp but carried no real malice. “I don’t remember inviting you into this conversation, Rumil,” he replied, his tone pointed, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a playful spark that belied his apparent irritation. As the teasing continued, you could see Haldir’s stoic composure beginning to waver, though he tried to hold his ground. He looked back at you, the teasing and jabs from his brothers not seeming to bother him as much as he might have let on. There was something different in his expression now—a softness that, despite his embarrassment, felt more genuine than ever. His lips quirked upward into the faintest of smiles, and there was warmth in his eyes as he stepped closer to you.
➳ “You may have caught me off guard,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a quiet amusement, “but I’ll be the one getting the last laugh, I suppose.” His words were teasing, but there was something undeniably fond in the way he said them—an acknowledgment of the playful chaos you’d stirred in him. Even as his brothers laughed and nudged him, Haldir remained, his posture a little less rigid, a little more human. He wasn’t just the stoic protector anymore. For the first time that night, you saw him not as the unshakeable Marchwarden, but as a man caught off guard—embarrassed, yes, but still able to smile and enjoy the humor of the moment. His cheeks, though flushed red, betrayed no hint of real annoyance, and as his gaze lingered on you, the teasing from his brothers seemed to fade into the background. In that moment, despite the laughter of his brothers ringing in his ears, there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he looked at you. His soft smile, the light in his eyes—it was as though, for all the teasing, for all the jest, he was still deeply affected by what had just transpired.
⭐️𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓻
✧ The warm glow of lanterns strung high in the trees bathed Rivendell in soft, golden light, casting flickering shadows against the smooth bark of ancient trees. The Elder’s Lore Gathering was at its height, the melodic hum of elven voices blending seamlessly with the gentle strains of harps and flutes. The gathering was steeped in tradition, yet it exuded a warmth that felt almost timeless, as if the moments of joy and wisdom shared here tonight would echo through the ages. The elders, seated in graceful circles near the heart of the gathering, recounted tales of the Valar, the Eldar, and the shaping of Middle-earth itself. Their voices, smooth and resonant, seemed to weave themselves into the very air, filling the evening with the weight of ages. Despite the solemnity, mirth was not absent from the gathering. Younger elves sat further back, exchanging sly smiles and quiet laughter, their reverence for the event tempered by the effervescent joy of the occasion. Light, silvery laughter carried through the trees, mingling with the music and the rustle of the wind. Platters of fine food and goblets of Rivendell’s exquisite wine made their rounds, the sweet aroma of elderflower and honey mingling with the crisp freshness of the evening.
✧ Elrohir, however, had chosen to linger on the outskirts, leaning casually against the trunk of a towering mallorn tree. The goblet of wine in his hand caught the light, its deep crimson hue gleaming against his fair skin. His sharp silver-grey eyes roamed the gathering with an air of detached amusement, his smirk faint but ever-present. These moments of shared history and culture meant something to him, though he would never say as much aloud. His dry sense of humor, a shield against the weight of responsibility and grief he carried, often made him an observer rather than a participant at such events. Elladan had vanished into the throng hours ago, likely finding some excuse to avoid the gravity of the elders’ tales. Elrohir, however, remained, his presence unobtrusive yet steady, like a silent sentinel. His gaze shifted to you as you wove your way through the clusters of elves, your laughter rising above the hum of voices every now and then. The wine had clearly loosened your inhibitions; your steps were lighter, your movements a little more carefree than usual. You hadn’t failed to notice him watching you, his smirk deepening slightly each time your eyes met. Something about the way he leaned there, poised and self-assured, had drawn your attention again and again throughout the evening. He was magnetic without trying, and the wine in your veins only amplified the pull you felt toward him.
✧ The night deepened, the lanterns’ glow warmer and softer as the hours stretched on. Buoyed by the festive atmosphere—and the liquid courage coursing through you—you finally made your way toward him, your heart racing despite yourself. Elrohir noticed your approach immediately, his sharp gaze flicking to yours, a single brow arching in curiosity. As you neared, he straightened from his lean, his smirk widening ever so slightly as he regarded you. “You look as though you’ve been enjoying the wine a bit too much,” he remarked dryly, his voice low and smooth. The faint amusement in his tone was underscored by something gentler—an almost imperceptible warmth that only someone who knew him well could detect. His silver eyes glimmered as he tilted his head, waiting for your reply.
✧ But words didn’t come. Instead, driven by a boldness that teetered on recklessness, you stepped closer, closing the small gap between you. Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his in a quick, daring kiss. The touch was fleeting—barely a breath of contact before you pulled back—but it was enough to leave you both stunned. Elrohir froze, the goblet in his hand forgotten as his eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, he simply stared at you, his sharp features softened by the sheer disbelief of what had just happened. Your face flushed deeply, the heat rising to your cheeks as the reality of your boldness hit you. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still, the hum of the gathering fading into the background. Then, his expression shifted. The initial shock gave way to a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, the sound low and warm. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with gentle fingers, his touch lingering. “I did not expect that,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. There was no reproach in his tone, only a quiet amusement mixed with something deeper—something tender and unguarded.
✧ “You’re more than a little tipsy,” he added, his lips twitching into a lopsided smile as he wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you with an ease that spoke of how natural it felt for him to do so. His warmth enveloped you, his presence grounding despite the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest. “A surprise attack, is it?” His words were teasing, but the look in his eyes betrayed the depth of his affection. There was no trace of mockery in his tone—only a playful fondness that seemed to draw you in further. Despite his humor, Elrohir’s gaze lingered on you, searching your face as though trying to commit this moment to memory. His usual guarded demeanor had melted away, leaving him open and uncharacteristically vulnerable. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he pulled you closer, his arm tightening around you protectively. “Next time,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head, “give me a little warning. I’d like to be prepared for such bold moves.” His voice was soft, almost intimate, the teasing edge giving way to a warmth that left no room for doubt about how deeply he cared for you. As he held you close, shielding you from the curious gazes of those nearby, it was clear that he wasn’t letting you slip away—not tonight, not ever.
✧ But then your hands began to wander. Emboldened by your lack of restraint, your fingers slid along the edge of his tunic, skimming the fabric with an almost mischievous intent. Elrohir stiffened slightly as your hand brushed against the bare skin beneath, his sharp intake of breath barely audible over the hum of the gathering around you. “Careful,” he warned softly, his voice lower now, though there was a thread of amusement woven into it. He caught your wrist with gentle but firm fingers, stilling your movement. “You’re far braver than I gave you credit for tonight.” Despite his words, the faintest flush crept into his cheeks, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure. He tilted his head, studying you with a mix of exasperation and undeniable fondness. “If you’re trying to test my patience, you’re doing a fine job of it,” he muttered, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. He released your wrist, instead pulling you closer against him to keep your wandering hands in check. “You’re far too drunk for this kind of mischief,” he added, his tone softening as his free hand rested lightly on the small of your back. Despite his attempts at restraint, there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes—a vulnerability that rarely surfaced. He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If you want to scandalize the entire gathering, you’re certainly on the right path,” he teased, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “But I think you’ll regret it come morning.” His arm tightened around you protectively, his dry humor giving way to a quiet tenderness. “Let’s get you back to the table,” he murmured, guiding you gently but firmly away from the crowd’s curious gazes. Though his words were measured, his actions spoke volumes—his hold on you steady, his presence warm and unyielding. Elrohir’s usual guarded demeanor had softened, replaced by a rare openness that hinted at just how deeply he cared for you, even amidst your wine-fueled antics.
⚔️𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷
⭒ The air in Rivendell was crisp with the touch of autumn, the golden hues of the trees glowing faintly under the soft light of lanterns strung throughout the festival grounds. The fragrance of fallen leaves mingled with the scent of warm spiced wine, and the gentle hum of laughter and music blended with the rustling of trees in the cool evening breeze. It was the Rite of the Autumn Dawn, a cherished elven tradition that marked the changing of the seasons—a time of reflection, renewal, and celebration. The festival was alive with joy. Elves danced beneath the shimmering lights, their silvery voices carrying songs older than the mountains, while others shared tales of years long past or toasted to the beauty of the fleeting autumn. The evening had stretched late, and the wine flowed freely, loosening the perfect poise of even the most graceful Elves. There was a warmth to the night—a sense of community, of fleeting mortality even among the immortal.
⭒ Elladan stood beneath one of the great trees lining the festival grounds, the leaves above him a cascade of gold and crimson, catching the glow of the lanterns as though alight with fire. He was the picture of ease, his tall frame relaxed, a half-full goblet of wine in his hand, and an irrepressible grin on his face. He thrived in these moments of lighthearted revelry, and it showed in every bit of his posture and energy. Throughout the night, he had been the center of more than one challenge—racing against other Elves, initiating ridiculous bets, and, most famously, engaging in a loud, dramatic exchange with Elrohir that had sent his brother storming off to the quieter edges of the gathering. Now, Elladan was content to watch the revelry around him, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd for more trouble to stir—or perhaps for someone who looked like they needed his particular brand of mischief. When you approached, the slightest hint of a stumble in your step, Elladan noticed immediately. His keen eyes caught the flush in your cheeks, the loose way you carried yourself, and the sparkle of uninhibited delight in your gaze. A grin broke across his face as he straightened slightly, tipping his head toward you with a mockingly scandalized air.
⭒ “Ah, there you are!” he called warmly, his voice effortlessly cutting through the din of the festival. “I was beginning to think you’d disappeared to drink all the wine yourself, leaving the rest of us to thirst.” Your response was playful, but the wine had slurred your words enough that Elladan had to step closer, his grin broadening with every faltering syllable. His long, dark hair, faintly catching the lantern light, brushed against your shoulder as he leaned in to catch your words, his presence a commanding mix of playful confidence and mischievous charm. Elladan laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I see you’ve embraced the spirit of the festival,” he teased, his eyes glittering as he studied you. “Though, I fear you might be no match for me if you can’t even stand properly. Should I fetch a chair for you? Or perhaps I should carry you to save you from yourself?” He set his goblet down on the grass beside him, entirely focused now on teasing you mercilessly.
⭒ It was in that moment, as he tilted his head back to laugh at his own joke, his guard completely lowered, that you struck. The wine emboldened you, and the playful energy of the festival seemed to whisper encouragement. Without hesitation, you grabbed the front of his tunic, tugging him toward you. The look of startled confusion that flashed across Elladan’s face was priceless—but it lasted only for the briefest of moments before your lips met his in a daring, wine-sweetened kiss. Time seemed to pause. Elladan froze, his body going perfectly still as if he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes widened, shimmering with disbelief, and you could feel the moment he registered what had just happened. When you finally pulled back, the stunned silence only lasted a beat before Elladan’s theatrical instincts took over. “By the Valar!” he exclaimed, his voice ringing out loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby revelers. His hand flew to his chest in a gesture of exaggerated indignation, his expression one of mock horror. “Such impetuosity! Such audacity! What would Erestor say if he saw this scandalous display?” He gasped, his sharp eyes glancing around as if searching the crowd for Rivendell’s sternest advisor, his performance growing more ridiculous by the second.
⭒ The sight of him, so over-the-top and utterly unbothered, sent you into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Elladan caught your mirth like it was contagious, his lips twitching into a wide, boyish grin as he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “I shall never hear the end of this, will I?” he said, his tone dripping with mock despair, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his delight. For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to lean in and kiss you in return, his grin softening just slightly, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips. Your heart raced, and you braced yourself for the touch of his lips again. But then—true to Elladan’s irrepressible nature—he pivoted at the last second, a devilish gleam lighting his face as he stepped away. “Catch me if you can!” he called, already turning and darting into the crowd. His laughter rang out like a bell, bright and carefree, as he disappeared into the sea of lanterns and dancing figures. He turned back once, his dark hair streaming behind him and his grin dazzling as he added, “Let us see if you can top that, my bold friend!” For a moment, you stood frozen, caught between laughter and disbelief at his antics. But Elladan didn’t wait—he was already weaving through the festival with the grace of a stag, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. The challenge had been issued, and there was no doubt he expected you to give chase, his competitive spirit as infectious as his laughter.
⭒ You barely had time to process his sudden departure before you were stumbling after him, laughter bubbling up even as your legs wobbled from the wine. Elladan’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing, and he glanced back every so often, a teasing grin lighting his face as he saw you struggling to keep up. Once, you nearly tripped over a root, your hands flailing wildly as you caught yourself against the edge of a wooden table laden with empty goblets. Elladan’s laughter rang out again, and he slowed just enough to call over his shoulder, “Careful! I don’t think the trees will forgive you if you knock over their wine!” You huffed, brushing yourself off, but couldn’t suppress the wide smile that stretched across your face. Each time you stumbled or bumped into someone—eliciting good-natured chuckles from the nearby Elves—Elladan only laughed harder, his steps slowing just enough to keep you within sight. “You’re doing wonderfully!” he teased, his voice light and playful as he darted around a lantern-lit tree. “Though I might suggest a bit more grace! You’re supposed to be chasing me, not crashing into everything in your path!” Despite your clumsiness, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the thrill of the chase and the warmth of his laughter making your heart soar. Every time he turned to glance at you, his grin was so full of mischief and delight that it felt impossible not to be swept up in his energy. The crowd seemed to part for him like water, while you stumbled and wove your way through, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. And yet, despite the wine, despite the obstacles, you felt alive—fully immersed in Elladan’s playful chaos, chasing the brightest star in Rivendell’s autumn night.
How would Thranduil, Elrond, and other elves react to a daring surprise kiss while drunk on wine at a festival? elves react to a daring sur