#elrond

[kisselshore]

Rivendell's family's hugs 

Happy Family, love, and fidelity day to everyone!

[tekiltaari]

Snippet... Tuesday?

I've been picking away at the sequel to Opacity, or Lack Thereof, which is the third in my series of fictions that explore questions of what it means to be Mortal (and Immortal), set in Modern Iceland.

(The series starts with Half-Life, then Full Circle, both of which you can find if you go to the Opacity link and then find my works!) Here is a snippet!

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You wake up after an evening of deep discussion (and relaxation) to an overcast sky - the kind where the sun looks like it’s been placed behind a sheet of grey wool.  The yellow ball of the sun is there, tempered by the moody tones of incoming clouds that signal spring rains, or maybe something more.  You are in the bed in the guestroom that you’ve been occupying for the last few days when it happens.  You notice it first in the glass of water that someone placed next to your bedside as you slept the morning away - waves where there should be none, followed quickly by a rattle, then a rumble, and then movement.  This happens on occasion where you call home.  EARTHQUAKE!

Today is your third and last day visiting the elves - your flight leaves this evening - and you sigh quietly as you look up at the wood-paneled ceiling.  It’s still intact - the house is still intact - and there is a commotion as someone bounds up the stairs.   The door cracks open, and a cascade of auburn hair occupies the space between the door and the frame. "Who's there?", you ask, slightly startled. "Did you feel that?!" “So that’s what it takes to wake up a stoned mortal.  Noted…” Elrond trails off as he pops his head into your room.  “And you…” you say, grinning, “you seem to have regained opacity, Elrond.” 

[ffigwit]

You do not know sorrow, he had once said. Arwen had been weeping, inconsolable. So much so her face was apple-red and drawn in tight wrinkles like an old lady. You do not know sorrow. Not until it has clung to you. Not until it is fastened to you so you can go nowhere it does not follow. It is a shackle, a rope, salt to the sea, writhing always within you. 

It writhes now. It goes through the room in a ripple of heat, of sweet smelling fear. They sit under a fattened moon this night, no where does the shadow go that it does not meet a place for projection. 

“Elrond,” Celebrian calls. Once he would have jumped at her beckon, he would be at her side in an instant waiting for a command. Now he cannot find it within himself to move. 

The next sound is not Celebrian’s voice. It is garbled but beautiful, like a songbird passing through a pipe. Loud as it is, it is not the volume that makes Elrond jump. Celebrian gasps, she whirls about the room, candle in hand though the wick has gone out. 

Something says “why?” Something with his daughter’s voice, echoing in ripples, vibrating across the room–soft and weathered and still so sweet, says: “Ada?”

Elrond trembles with the heat of the voice, a distorted version of his daughter. He cowers, as he never cowered before, not since he was a child. There is that little thing within him now, full of fear and despair, clinging to the bed sheets like he once clung to his brother’s hems. This is not his room, these are not the walls he built, this is not the city he rose from the ground up, filled with him and his memory and so safe from every weapon that lived within it. Memory cannot shred itself, if you rent the land with its own hand, it cannot hurt itself. 

wip wip wip don't ask me why I can't for the life of me focus and get this guy done but I will I swear

[niphredinell]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, J. R. R. Tolkien's Middle-earth Legendarium & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Ereinion Gil-galad, Glorfindel (Tolkien), Erestor (Tolkien), Námo | Mandos (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Fëanorian Erestor (Tolkien), Canon Divergence, to make it sadder, Kinslaying (Tolkien), Valar do not understand the Children Summary:

Elrond finally, finally acknowledges that he is being spoken to and slowly looks up at her.

"It hurts," he whispers, clutching at his chest.

[saki-bookmarks]

It started with the Void - chapter 21

It took me much longer than I wanted, well, as a few other chaptered stories too because of a load of ideas for shorter forms that had filled my brain treacherously!

But here it is!

Chapter 21 filled with;

- Healing halls

- Harmed soldiers

- Elrond being Elrond

- Emotional mess

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76080406/chapters/233331401#main

[halfelven]

The sea is grey, as still as the standing sky. Both are flat, endless. If he could swim for six days, he would make it back—back to watch his children die. He couldn’t do it, and for a moment, Elrond considers asking Gandalf if that makes him a coward. But he keeps his lips pressed. He has a wife, and too many deaths etched into memory. He imagines the coolness of the deep water, but he can’t stop picturing his daughter’s face, wrinkled like waves, hair as grey as the sea. He touches the air, and the wind rises.

[julijbee]

if you start it at the wrong angle the braids come out crooked. they dont know that yet.

[julijbee]

helping out.