Screaming, crying, throwing up about Galadriel!! I was wondering how you think the elves, particularly Galadriel and Thranduil, would comfort their loves after a bad dream? Thank you so much <3
catch *throws this at your face*
Middle Earth Elves | Comforting you after a bad dream
He hears you stirring in your sleep when he's on watch for the fellowship
Trudges over after you don't let up and kneels beside you
Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to slowly wake you up
Once you wake he asks what's troubling you, keeping a hand running through your hair tucking it behind your ear
He's one to try and distract you, so he invites you to stay with him on watch for a bit
You both sit further away from camp, you leaning on his shoulder as sleep slowly overtakes you again
But he does not move you or disturb you, hoping to keep you close incase you are to have another nightmare
Arwen
She notices sweat pooling on your head and your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep
She immediately knows what's happening, you're having another one of your spells
And so she wraps herself around you, shushing you and hoping to rip you from the nightmare without waking you
Hands soothing over your chest and shoulders, her elven healing powers warming your skin and dissipating the tension in your muscles
When you wake, she reassures you that you're safe to protect you, with gentle kisses peppering your cheeks and neck
She hums a lullaby to rock you to sleep again
Thranduil
He is quick to be at your side when you wake with a start
Is immediately pulling you into his lap, face full of worry, asking what could be wrong with his little flower
Thranduil gets quite stressed when you are upset because he hates to have something be hurting you that he cannot stop
So he listens as you explain your dream, and he coos at you as he kisses the tears away from under your eyes
Stays awake until you have fallen asleep once again, his back against the headboard while you doze off on his chest
His gentle hands remain on your back, scratching lightly to remind you that he is there
Galadriel
You try to keep your troubles to yourself in the hopes to not bother you
But she sees right through it
Places a gentle hand on your forehead as she approaches, feeling your troubles and softening them quickly
With her touch, you feel the darkness dispel, and a soft ease drips over you
"You are safe my love. Your mind will not trouble you now, as long as I have something to say against it."
She puts comforting visions in your mind, lulling you back to unconsciousness and never pulling her hand away from your skin until she is sure you sleep easy
She remains close, a protective, strong ethereal presence to ward of any evil
Glorfindel
Protective and compassionate nature by heart
His presence is strong, his frame covering you in a blanket of relief as he runs his hands along your tense body
"You need not weep meleth-nin. I am here."
He speaks of other things to distract you, his fingers finding your face to wipe away stray tears that stain your skin
At your beck and call when you are vulnerable with him like this, treating you like some delicate statue
Also a shit ton of forehead, hairline and hair kisses, there is not a moment where he pulls away from your body
Lays you back down with you tucked beneath his chin, the sound of his drowning out as you sleep once again
Celeborn
He observes your uneasy sleep and waits for you to wake up yourself to calm you
He encourages you to talk about it, opening up to him and letting him try to help you in any way possible
His leading demeanor gives him a natural need to take care of you, in any way he can
He is a grounding presence, telling you to focus on his voice, his hands on your cheeks, the feeling of his breath hitting your face as he holds you close
Takes you out for a short wander of Lothlorien if you truly cannot sleep, leading you with a hand on the small of your back
He remains a steady reassurance without pressuring you
Elrond
He was quite used to comforting people after nightmares, with Arwen and Aragorn having them regularly as they were growing up
And being known as a healer, he is naturally good at these situations
He wakes you slowly by whispering little phrases in Sindarin, his voice is steady and coaxes you back to peace
When you wake, he encourages you to say what had frightened you
Untangles your fears, reassuring that your mind is creating horrors that are not rational
And to further calm you he may prepare you a herbed drink/tea, insisting that he stays with you
He would end the comfort with a light humour, being glad to see you happy again
Gildor
He hears you stirring in your sleep when he's sitting at a nearby desk
Trudges over after you don't let up and climbs into the bed with you
Places a gentle hand on your shoulder to slowly wake you up
Once you wake he asks what's troubling you, keeping a hand running through your hair tucking it behind your ear
He's one to try and distract you, so he invites you to stay awake with him for a while
You sit on your shared balcony together looking over Nargothrond
Gildor cracks small jokes and plays with your fingers, leaving an occasional kiss on the back of your hands
Once you've passed out on his shoulder, he scoops you back up in his arms and places you back on the bed, crawling in after you and wrapping you up in his long limbs
AN: Okay so I've upped my elf game and am offering my favourite book elves as well, especially Gildor cause I was kinda unhealthily attached to that elf the second he was introduced in FOTR
Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes @mybrainsamess @pumpkin-soup333 @bloxholden35 @woodsofsunlight @emerald-tempest @vv56890 @anisswife @lady-legolas-greenleaf @doomslugthedestroyer1
Requests for headcanons / reactions / drabbles always open~
She doesn't touch you, if she does it is the lightest palm on your forehead. She'll call your name so softly, it's like sunlight breaking through mist.
"Awaken, little star. The day has need of you."
She'll smile when your eyes flutter open. She's smiling faintly.
"Yes, at last. She has returned."
Arwen:
She's an absolute sweetheart to wake up with. She'll kneel beside you, gently stroking your hair or tucking the blanket around you as she calls your name so softly.
"Meleth nín, it is time to wake. The morning waits for you. I have been waiting for your eyes to open."
If you're a little grumpy, she'll giggle softly. She'll find it absolutely endearing. If you mumble something, half asleep, she's 100% teasing you about it later.
Elrond:
He would have infinite patience for you. He'll lean down and his lips will brush gently across your temple. He'd rest his hand on your waist. When he finally does speak to you, his voice is quiet and warm, like velvet at dawn.
"Wake, meleth nín... you have slept long enough."
If you stir but bury your face into the pillow, he'll chuckle and press another kiss and say,
"I would far rather kiss you awake."
Celeborn:
He's practical but romantic nevertheless. The kind of lover that would never want you to wake alone. He'd slip into bed if he wasn't already there, his head tilting as he studied your face. He'd slip his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him.
"Mornings are meant to be greeted together, melda."
If you groaned, asking him to let you sleep in just a little longer, he'd absolutely cave and let you. But in a low and fond voice, he'd kiss the top of your head and say,
"Very well... but then I am not letting you leave our bed so easily."
Annatar:
He would not wake you gently, nor would he be courteous about it. He's waking you up because he wants your attention. He'd lean over you, his long golden hair brushing against your skin, his lips grazing your ear as his voice curls low and silken almost.
"Awake, little one... do you think you can hide from me in sleep?"
If you attempted to roll away or try to go back to sleep, his hands would deliberately move across your body, touching the spots he knows will stir you awake. He'd chuckle softly, mocking but still fond.
"No, no... you do not escape me so easily."
When your eyes flutter open, he's right there, smiling like fire in the dark. He'll bring his hand up to your face, his large hand cups your face possessively. His thumb would stroke your cheek so gently.
"There you are. My brightest star. Did you dream of me?"
Note: You don’t want to know how long this has been hibernating in my drawer. Well, who do you think will seize the chance of this trope and get that long-awaited kiss? Bets can be placed in the comments, hehe
Pairing: TROP Elves x reader (gender neutral)
Characters: Elrond, Galadriel, Gil-Galad, Celebrimbor, Annatar, Adar
Word count: 4.1k
Warnings: Injuries and references to memory loss (Adar), being locked in a confined space (Celebrimbor, Galadriel), blood (Annatar), idiots, longing, clichés, reader is implied to be an elf (with longer hair) in some parts
How well TROP Elves would handle forced proximity ranked from worst to best
Annatar ⟡ hiding in a nook
Among all the creatures roaming Middle-earth, feared for their bloodlust, Sauron proved to be by far the most cunning hunter. While wolves formed packs to corner their prey, chasing it to death until they could sink their teeth into its throat and hawks shot down from the sky like lightning before their target could notice them or flee, Sauron preferred a more refined strategy. His prey was chosen with forethought, and every step observed until a pattern revealed itself to him, a pattern he could then sculpt to his liking. He arranged the circumstances thoroughly, sowing doubt to lure them into his snare, convinced it was their own decision.
Sauron had no need for claws or fangs, instead slipping into the minds of his victims, tearing them apart from within, and they thanked him for it. But though he hid behind a veil of deception, he understood that it was never truly an act of free volition. No deer would willingly place its neck in the jaws of a wolf, knowing that it sought blood.
Until today.
As he strode through Eregion that evening, a deer unexpectedly leapt before his feet, a game he never intended to hunt. Clatter of metal pierced the darkness, heavy boots thundering over stone, calls echoing through the night sky. Two guards rushed past Annatar, their drawn swords prison bars meant to constrain a fugitive thief who had just escaped from the hall of records. A thief who was clearly skilled enough to evade the noisy guards, heading straight toward a far more dangerous hunter.
Some strands of your tied-back hair had come loose, your ink-stained fingers clutching a few scrolls. As you ran, you glanced back over your shoulder, making sure you had shaken off your pursuers. A fatal mistake, because in that brief moment, Annatar got hold of your collar, pulling you to a sudden halt. Your gazes crossed, yours filled with fright, his calculating.
Annatar did not recognize you, so you were probably no one whose secret he could use as leverage if he let you go now. It was more useful to hand you over to the guards, further strengthening his reputation as Eregion's diligent servant. But just when he was about to call them back, something strange happened: you overpowered him.
In one swift motion, you freed yourself from his grip, shoved him back behind a wall, covering his mouth. One hand pressed against his lips, the other clutching your scrolls. The act occurred so unexpected that he simply let it happen.
You shot Annatar a determined look, the fear now vanished from your eyes. In a hissing whisper, you explained that the scrolls contained construction plans you had developed, a project unjustly confiscated from you, which you planned to present to Lord Celebrimbor personally.
A quest for justice. A renegade master builder. An elf who dared to threaten Sauron himself. Now you had piqued his curiosity, ignited a spark. He granted you this transgression, even though he could not yet deduce any benefit from it, amused by your demeanor and surprised by the turn this interaction had taken.
Footsteps approached from the other side, two guards patrolling the square. You pressed yourself closer to Annatar, attempting to blend into the shadow of the wall, your breath brushing his neck. The warmth of your hand burned his lips, and he was overcome by the urge to sink his teeth into its flesh, licking the hot blood clean off. Why had he not noticed you before? He studied your profile, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, like a startled deer. Yet your gaze calmly observed the surroundings, like a wolf on the hunt.
During the following days, this scene kept flaring up in his mind, the memory of your warmth burning his skin. You received your audience with Lord Celebrimbor, and your project was returned to you. Annatar had made sure of it, now being able to supervise its construction and draw you closer into his sphere. The surprise on your face when you realized who your nighttime encounter had been seeped into him like sweet wine. How you shifted under his gaze, shy with embarrassment. He could not take his eyes off you, and why should he? After all, you had run into his arms willingly.
1/10: The fleeting nature of this encounter only fuels his obsession
Celebrimbor ⟡ locked out on a balcony
The dancing evening breeze carried sounds of cheerful music, clinking glasses, and laughter high into the sky. It swirled around Celebrimbor, who was watching the colorful bustle of Nost-na-Lothion far below him from the small balcony of his workshop. He flinched when your voice rang out behind him and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your dress swaying as you approached him through the empty workshop, two glasses of wine in your hands.
The last time he had seen you, you had been in the arms of an entirely unfamiliar elf - a circumstance which had seemingly not diminished your delight for the dance you had shared. He was uncomfortable with you seeing him like this, a Lord hiding from his own feast, not to mention his feelings.
Under your watchful gaze, a heat crept under his skin, so he picked up a glass and swiftly downed some of the sweet wine, trying not to dwell on why he always felt as if he were standing in the flames of his forge whenever in your presence.
A few petals from the flowers adorning your hair in honor of the festivities sought to sway along with the music beneath you and got caught among some loose strands in the attempt. The urge to gently brush them out of your hair was almost impossible to resist. Celebrimbors fingers fidgeted along the rim of his glass, seeking a distraction, and finding it in the question of what had moved you to leave your dance partner behind.
Your mouth opened to reply just as a violent gust of wind rushed through the open workshop door and slammed the balcony door shut. The loud sound struck you like lightning. Instinctively, you grabbed Celebrimbor’s arm, his glass slipped from his grasp, shattering on the floor. Celebrimbor stammered an apology as you pressed against the door, both of you rushing to hide the flush spreading across your faces.
To your surprise, the wood did not yield. The bolt had slammed shut from the impact, locking the door from the inside. Celebrimbor possessed the strength and technical skill one would expect from a smith of his reputation, yet even he could accomplish nothing against the simple lock mechanism from the outside. Calling for help seemded hopeless as well, due to the height of the balcony and the festive commotion. There was nothing left for you to do but drink the remaining wine and wait.
A scenario that appeared to have been deliberately constructed by the Valar solely to torment Celebrimbor. He was not averse to sharing the last wine with you, but the implication of pressing his lips to the same glass that had touched yours made him hesitate. It felt too akin to the intimacy of a kiss. Not that he recoiled from the thought of kissing you. Quite the opposite.
He tried to let himself be carried along by the flow of your engaging conversation as usual, but that proved to be a far more challenging feat when you were this near, and, to make matters worse, were crowned with delicate blossoms and silver moonlight. It illuminated you so brightly he could study the color of your Iris. For years, Celebrimbor had searched for the gemstone that could best capture its brilliance, but now, for the first time, he was close enough to take in their color in every facet.
His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips just as you leaned forward slightly, and, seemingly absentmindedly, plucked one of your stray petals that had found its way into his hair, as you spoke. Your story faltered, you looked up at him, the gemstone of your iris, which Celebrimbor had finally recognized, shimmering. The empty wine glass rested abandoned on the balustrade, the imprint of your lips long since cold. If he tilted forward just a fraction, he could truly taste their warmth.
He wanted to taste them.
Terrified by his own thoughts, Celebrimbor flinched back at once and was saved just then by a voice from outside. A guard had discovered the open workshop and had entered to inspect it. Surprise was written all over his face when he found none other than the Lord of Eregion and his herald trapped on the balcony. His discovery left the young guard so taken aback that he completely failed to notice his lord’s troubled state.
In the months following Nost-na-Lothion, Mirdania would be left wondering why her master exclusively would use one particular gemstone for his work.
2/10: Out of insecurity, he misses the perfect opportunity for a first kiss
Adar ⟡ receiving medical care
He can not recall how he got here, but when Adar awakens, he is lying on a mat woven from reeds and ferns. The blurry outlines of a weathered wooden shack become sharper, the smell of fire catches his attention, rain drips onto the roof above him. It takes Adar a moment to gain his orientation in this unfamiliar environment. His skull feels as if someone had split it open with an axe, and judging by the various injuries and pain throughout his body, someone had attempted to do just that.
No surprise that his weary mind immediately suspects you once you step into the shack and his line of sight. He feels more vulnerable without his breastplate; instinctively reaching for the nearest sharp object to defend himself. But you don’t even flinch, you just stand there with the bundle of wood in your arms, looking down at him. Your eyes are tired, deep shadows adorn their undersides, a bandage decorates your thigh, and only now does Adar notice that you, too, appear to be injured.
You command him to lie down, for if you wanted him dead, you could have spared yourself the trouble of stopping his bleeding, bandaging him, and brewing that reeking herbal tincture for his fever. It takes some time for him to grasp the meaning of your words, but when you order him to keep still so you can change the bandage on a particularly gruesome flesh wound on his arm, he begins to understand.
The reasoning behind your aid sounds rational. The Uruks place all their trust and loyalty in him alone. Adar is a means of keeping them under control, a predictable variable and a potential temporary ally in the war against Sauron. Without him, the horde of his children would dissolve into an uncontrollable mass, another fire burning the Elves' strained resources.
Your explanation and the earnesty of your efforts to keep him alive appease Adar's mistrust for the time being. It is a strange arrangement: you cook, maintain the fire, brew ointments, tend to his wounds and your own, while he can only observe your every move with masked suspicion. The gentleness of your touch, the care with which you treat him, is unfamiliar - not solely due to your previous interactions. He is the one who provides for others, ensuring his children have food and shelter, never the other way around.
By the fourth day, relief outweighs his alertness when you return from gathering in the forest. You still keep his weapons hidden beyond his reach, but you don’t carry any yourself - a concession, the visible proof of your temporary partnership. Adar tries to repay some of the debt he is accumulating by sharing his herbal knowledge with you, where to find the right plants, which mixtures hasten wound healing, calm inflammation. He still feels unease when you touch him, your beautiful hands against his scarred skin, but it is no longer rooted in the fear you might seek to harm him.
The quiet care you bestow upon him, no matter how conditional it may be, is slowly consuming him. He knows you, or at least, he once thought he did. The enemy who crossed his sword, he knew. But the elf who stays by his side day and night, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth or serving him warm soup - that tender person, he does not know. It throws him off balance, gnaws at him in the night when you sleep beside him. A faint feeling deep inside his chest, a whisper he tries to shut out, telling him that no matter how you two part ways from here on out, he can no longer face you the same way he did before.
4/10: He does not know how to deal with this kind of affection, the hidden longing for it unsettles him deeply
Gil-Galad ⟡ being taught a craft
When his herald delivered your message, Gil-Galad considered it a jest. But by the time he stood in the doorway of Lindon's palace kitchen - a figure framed in gold by the midday sun, completely out of place in this workspace - he gave credence to Elrond's words. Even though his eyes still hesitated to accept the scene presented to them. Your jewelry rested safely on a wooden tray behind you, hair tied back, a simple apron covering your formal court attire, your hands buried in a bowl of dough. Unbelievable.
With a brief wave of his hand, the High King dismissed everyone else, guards and kitchen staff alike. He could not resist raising an eyebrow, displaying his scepticism, as he approached the cooking station to inspect your culinary skills. You merely responded with a knowing smile when he inquired the purpose of this decidedly...humble activity. Although it was you who had summoned him – which in itself would be considered impudent – you made no effort to follow courtly protocol by greeting him with a bow or otherwise honoring his presence by pausing your work.
Such formalities were not required when you were alone, privacy granted your friendship precedence over your ranks. Secretly, Gil-Galad enjoyed your casual manner toward him, although he would never gift you the satisfaction of displaying his fondness outwardly.
As you continued to work through the dough with firm movements, you explained this unusual choice of meeting place. It was not the first time that you had taken refuge in the kitchen in order to sort your thoughts. As your hands shaped the dough, your mind shaped thoughts, the steady motion grounding you. Sometimes the answer was not buried in stacks of scrolls gathered by Lord Elrond, but in the silence and warmth of bread rising in the oven.
Naturally, you had to punish Gil-Galad’s doubtful gaze and lofty tone with a demonstration. Before he knew it, he found himself facing another bowl of sticky mass, while you tied an apron behind his back. This was certainly not how he had imagined the strategy meeting with his advisor. Putting on an indifferent expression, he swallowed the nervousness that crept up as you carefully removed his rings and placed them beside yours.
His first movements were awkward, clearly the attempts of an elf who only ever encountered food when it was elegantly arranged and placed before him by servants. So you stepped in to guide him, an act Gil-Galad submitted to with dignity, despite his heart nearly leaping from his chest whenever your hands brushed his. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when you withdrew to continue kneading your own dough. You were mistaken, this activity did nothing to calm his troubled spirit.
But after a while, the tension in his shoulders eased a little. Warmth from the oven seeped into his tired bones, the scent of herbs and charcoal filled the air, soothing his senses. By the time you took the fresh loaves out of the oven, a solution for every matter on your meeting agenda had been found. As always, you had been right. It was grounding to create something with one's own hands, something with a tangible outcome. Not merely abstract commands and plans, the consequences of which weighed solely on his head.
He expressed his reluctant gratitude to you as you savored the still-warm bread with a few figs and wine, a knowing grin playing across your face. The golden midday sun streaming into the kitchen cast a soft glow around you, presumably the reason for the warmth spreading from Gil-Galad’s core throughout his entire body. Or so he assured himself.
6/10: He’s still too caught up in his own head to fully savor the moment and will find himself yearning to return there weeks later without admitting the reason why
Elrond ⟡ taking shelter during rain
t was supposed to be nothing more than a brief ride to the Grey Havens, but within the first third of the journey, delicate raindrops kissed Elrond's hair, turning into a dense veil of pearling water by the halfway point. The saddles' leather grew slippery, and the view across the open meadow was obscured by a fog so thick that even the sharp elven eyes could barely tell west from east. Only a fool would insist on riding on under such conditions, and Elrond Half-elven was many things, but certainly no fool.
As soon as a tree with a mighty crown came into view, Elrond signaled for you to halt there and seek shelter. Breathing heavy, you dismounted the horses. As if the sudden downpour was not trouble enough, the High King had chosen you, of all elves, to accompany Elrond. It should have been expected - the success of your other missions spoke for itself - yet he could not help but question whether Gil-Galad was abusing his authority to torment him beyond necessity.
White wisps of mist curled around your wet face, your damp clothes clung to your body, outlining every curve, every muscle. Elrond averted his gaze, using the excuse of loosening his horse’s saddle slightly so that the wet leather would not rub against the animal’s coat, in order to hide the blush spreading across his face. You followed his example, checking to see if the scrolls in their metal cases had stayed dry. Then you both stood a bit self-conscious under the tree’s canopy, while the horses grazed peacefully on the other side.
Elrond was never at a loss for words, language his sharpest weapon, one he wielded with precision. But under the circumstances - alone with you in such a confined space, soaked to the bone, your clothes leaving less room for the imagination than he was comfortable with - his tongue twisted itself around the words, unable to form a smooth, flowing stream.
You seemed to sense his unease and, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of affection, you made a joke that lightened the mood a bit. Chuckling, Elrond brushed his damp curls back and carried on discussing the next steps with you. As you spoke, you attempted to tame your windswept and rain-soaked hair into a presentable state as well. A far more challenging task given the length of your braid. You had tidied your hair as best you could, but a few loose strands at the crown of your head escaped your attention. Elrond moved closer before his better judgment could stop him and asked for permission to assist you.
Gently, he untangled the disarray, ignoring his treacherous heart racing. The conversation fell silent, only the soft rain and a cascade of feelings pouring down upon you. Small clouds of steam rose from your breath, intertwining in the close space between your bodies, gazes and unspoken words mingling within.
Slowly, careful not to startle you, Elrond brushed a strand of hair clinging to your forehead back behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, caressing the tender skin of your cheek. He had been mistaken. He was a fool after all, for only a fool would be so reckless to do what followed.
Hesitant, giving you enough time to pull away, he leaned in toward you, drawn by the irresistible gaze of your eyes tracing his face. The kiss was as light as a feather, merely the gentle touch of your lips, as delicate as the rain that had caressed your skin moments before. You leaned in, and Elrond’s heart struck the first note a melody, so much sweeter than the fading rustle of the water above you.
9/10: He seizes the moment and finds what he longed for, even if it was an impulse
Galadriel ⟡ trapped on a raft
What are dreams if not shadows of the past, tightening their clutches around the lungs and hearts of those they haunt? Galadriel dreaded sleep, for at night she lost command of her mind. It became vulnerable to Sauron, open for him to slip inside and play his cruel games with her. Even after she closed that door and lay down, safe in the knowledge that she had banished him, she did not find the peace she longed for. Her newfound freedom proved to be yet another cage, trapped in experiencing the same dream time and time again. She stood on the raft amid the storm, begging Halbrand - no, Sauron - to bind himself to her. Her greatest regret played out endlessly in her sleep, mocking her.
She could not conceal her unrest and weariness from you, your concern touched her like rain falling on parched flowers. Galadriel hid the contents of her dreams from you, but naturally that did not dissuade you from seeking a way to lighten her burdens. The advice you had given her that day still echoed in her mind as evening fell. She was the master of her dreams. She could shape them to her liking, you had said, and if that failed, you would pray to the Valar, asking to be sent in her dreams.
A silent smile had graced Galadriel's face, touched by affection for your declaration to protect her. But when she eventually lost the battle against fatigue that night, she was once again overcome with fear of what would await her on the other side.
She found herself in the same hell as the previous weeks. The sea was raging, black waves crashing against rotten wood, tossing the raft. Trembling, Galadriel closed her eyes, water sticking to her skin, cold air scratching her lungs. You are the master of your dreams. Your voice echoed through her, a ribbon of delicate light she clung to. She repeated the words in her mind, tracing them with her tongue like a prayer. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, Galadriel steeled herself to hear the words that would follow now.
But Sauron's voice never reached her ear. Galadriel's eyes flew open, her heart beating high in her throat. The image before her had been completely transformed into its opposite. Seawater gently rocked the raft in its arms, warm sun soaking up the cold from her skin. In disbelief, she turned around. Instead of facing her incarnate nightmare, her gaze fell upon your familiar figure, fastening the mast with rope. When you noticed her and paused your work to approach her, she shied away. Galadriel was certain that your lovely form would shatter any moment, revealing the true nature of evil that wore your face in mockery. But her fears remained unfulfilled.
Your eyes gave no sign of malice, only tenderness and worry. You urged her to breathe, affirming that you were with her. Shaky fingers reached out to your face, seeking reassurance. When Galadriel felt the warmth of your hand holding hers, the dam broke. She sank to her knees, letting you hold her in your arms, tears silently escaping her. You held her tight, promising you would not let any harm come to her.
In the following days, this dream returned. Once Galadriel fell asleep, she found herself back on the raft, but instead of Sauron, you were the one awaiting her, speaking to her, holding her in your arms. You bathed in the sun and swam in the sea, sharing laughter and glances, even a kiss one night. The raft was no longer a prison, but a small haven of peace.
10/10: The forced proximity is her sanctuary, her refuge, and her salvation
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Fake Dating TROP Elves or TROP Elves as Reverse Tropes
Can't find the trope you're looking for? Feel free to send a letter to the teashop (Ask)
Considering this is my first time writing one of these, I’m starting with a small batch of characters and who better than the elves of TROP? But I’m very much open to writing for different characters within Tolkien’s world and, of course, from TROP! Actually anyone who walked on Middle-Earth. The Valar? Sure, why not!
■ Calculated, laced with challenge, and guarded vulnerability. Galadriel flirts like one might wield a blade. Testing for weakness, dancing just close enough to wound or woo.
■ She stands tall, unyielding, but when intrigued, her eyes betray her. They soften not with warmth, but with recognition. You’ve caught her interest, and now she watches you like a predator circling its prey… or a queen considering a subject for her court.
■ Cool and clipped, but with sudden flashes of dry wit. She’ll challenge your intelligence with a single eyebrow raise or a quip like, “Is that truly your best argument?”
■ She rarely touches. If she does, it’s fleeting: a brush of fingers as she hands you a blade, the press of her palm against your chest to stop you in training. These touches linger in your mind far longer than in hers — at least, that’s what she pretends.
■ She will only allow flirtation if she senses you're her equal. She doesn't seek comfort — she seeks conviction, someone who might dare to stand beside her, not behind.
■ When she finally lets her voice drop — lower, more intimate — you’ll hear it for what it is: a fortress opening its gates an inch. “You… surprise me.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋElrond
■ Quiet reverence, layered in intellect and gentle affection. Elrond flirts the way rivers carve stone: slowly, patiently, but with undeniable effect.
■ He tilts his head when you speak, eyes gleaming with attention. His hands fidget when he’s nervous: tugging at sleeves, smoothing scrolls, brushing imaginary dust from books.
■ Soft, warm, laced with dry humor and the kind of intelligence that flatters without boasting. “You know… I find myself quoting you more than I’d like to admit.”
■ He always makes space for you in a crowded room. He’ll guide you gently by the elbow, offer his cloak before you ask, and pour your tea while distractedly scribbling notes about the way your eyes reflect starlight.
■ Elrond doesn't flirt for pleasure, he does so instinctively, seeking connection. He wants to understand you completely. Every word, every silence, every unfinished sentence.
■ He’ll give you something irreplaceable — a poem from his youth, a story no one else has heard — and say, almost shyly, “I’ve kept this… waiting for the right person.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋGil-Galad
■ Subtle and perfectly timed. His words are carefully measured, but his presence says everything. He flirts with restraint and watches to see if you notice the moment it cracks.
■ He never approaches too directly. He waits until your eyes meet across a corridor or hall — then inclines his head, ever so slightly. If he steps closer, it’s intentional.
■ Regal, eloquent, slow. He crafts compliments like wine — rich, refined, and meant to linger. “You wear the dusk well. It favors your kind of quiet fire.”
■ He never touches first. But if you brush against him, his response is deliberate. A slow turn of the hand to catch yours, a thumb brushed across your knuckles as if in contemplation.
■ Gil-galad has learned to love without showing it, to yearn without leaning. His flirtation is a series of calculated risks; each word carries weight. Each glance is a signal, a lock awaiting a key.
■ When he speaks plainly for the first time without titles, without strategy, it will shake you. “I have led armies. Held kingdoms. And yet… I find myself wondering what you think of me.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋArondir
■ Quiet, present, and deeply emotional. Arondir doesn’t flirt with words — he flirts with devotion.
■ He always notices your discomfort before you speak it. He will reposition a chair so the sun doesn’t blind you. He will step between you and danger without thinking. And he will never mention it.
■ Rarely speaks without meaning. When he says something personal, it feels like the world has paused to hear it. “You are… unlike any path I’ve walked.”
■ Carves small tokens for you. A leaf from a tree that only blooms once a year, your name etched in Quenya on smooth wood. He leaves them without ceremony, then pretends not to notice when you find them.
■ His love is not showy, but it’s constant. He’ll watch you with the kind of gaze that says, I would wait an Age for you. And mean it.
■ The moment he finally touches your cheek, eyes locked with yours, is the moment he’s decided — silently, permanently — that he is yours.
⇢ ˗ˏˋCelebrimbor
■ Excitable, intense, and terribly earnest. He flirts by accident… and then makes it worse by being too sincere.
■ Hair tousled from long nights in the forge, hands stained from work, he runs fingers through his hair when nervous. His eyes light up around you and he doesn’t hide it.
■ Fast-paced, bright, layered with admiration. He’s always a little breathless around you, like you’ve thrown off his rhythm. “Wait, wait, you don’t think this is brilliant? Look - look at this, tell me that curve isn’t perfect. I based it on your — well. Never mind.”
■ Constantly gives you things: a chain he meant to throw away but thought looked “nice,” a ring he insists is “just practice,” or a sketch he swears wasn’t you (it was).
■ He falls fast, and deep. But his fear of being used makes him hesitant to admit it. So he’ll bury affection in gifts, conversation, and genius-level distractions.
■ He’ll give you something unfinished and whisper, “I want you to be the first to see it… even before it’s perfect.”
Hello there! I’ve just been looking at some of your Tolkien asks for the elves and I thought you were a really good writer, so I was wondering if you’d be open to writing about how the elves would react to finding out their human friend had parents that didn’t get along that well or argued a lot, and just really disliked each other? I don’t even know if they’d even have a concept of that, because elvish couples love once and forever. If you don’t want to write that, it’s perfectly ok. I understand that this is a sensitive topic for a lot of people, but I just wanted to ask :) Regardless, have a nice day!
Warnings: discussion of unstable/unhappy house holds, illusions to abuse/neglect
Note: I’ve included some elves invented for ROP and The Hobbit movies
Note 2: thank you for this request, it led me down several rabbit holes and now I know exactly how fucked up Celebrimbor’s father was
Masterlist
I think the elves understand on some base level that it is possible for parents to hate each other, especially the ones that interact with humans more often like Elrond.
They’re timeless beings after all, who have seen the rise and fall of countless kingdoms of man. They know the propensity for greed and malice.
But it’s always abstract to them the same way true death is.
In the back of their minds they think it must have such an adverse effect on the child that it would be easy to spot.
Some are naive enough to assume that every person that chose to follow Morgoth and Sauron must have had parents who hated each other.
So when you reveal that you grew up in such a household it rocks their shit it startles quite a few of them.
In order from least to most surprised:
Arondir
As a guard of the south lands, he is constantly dealing with humans. He understands, I think best of all those listed, the broad range of dynamics possible in a human household and I’m sad to say he’s probably had to break up quite a few fights between parents.
So when you tell him, he’s rather unfazed. Not to say that he doesn’t care that you grew up in such a household but he knows that it isn’t something some people like to talk about. He offers you a firm squeeze on the shoulder and offers his ear should you ever want to talk about it though.
If you still live with your parents, he makes a point to start watching them more closely. He wants to be ready should he have to do something.
Elrond
Given his past list of parental figures and him being half-human, Elrond understands the best out of Tolkien’s elves. That’s not say his parents were bad but he has the best experience with uncommon households out of the elves on this list.
Younger or older, he approaches your situation with empathy. Similar to Arondir, he doesn’t try to pry but makes it clear that he is here for you if you want him to be. He also offers up a room in his house if you still live with your parents. He goes a step further though to offer a place to stay to any siblings you have as well.
He doesn’t claim to understand exactly what growing up around people like that does to one’s mental health but he is willing to do the research needed to become an advocate for you and for those who grew up like you.
Galadriel
Galadriel as we know her in the books and PJ’s films has the best intuition about the situation you grew up in. She’s incredibly mature and has a cunning to her that isn’t present in the other elves on this list.
Honestly, she might figure out that your home wasn’t exactly happy before you even tell her - catching all those little signs; the hesitation before mentioning your family, the careful censoring in certain anecdotes, or the complete lack of mentioning them. She catches them and puts two and two together.
I’m torn on if she’d ask you directly or wait for you to tell her. The first option wants for tact but I believe Galadriel can almost see the scars on your psyche and wants to help them heal. Regardless, you are always welcome in Lothlorien should the need arise.
Celebrimbor
Despite how low he is placed, Celebrimbor I think has the closest lived experience to you. He’s down this low because he thinks the shittiness of his father is an exclusive trait to him. It doesn’t actually cross his mind that humans deal with awful parents as well so he is quite shocked to learn this about you.
To be fair, we don’t know who his mother is and by all accounts her and Curufin could have had a wonderful marriage but I find this unlikely given his temper.
Celebrimbor understands best of all the shadow that rests on your shoulders - the creeping dread that rests in your heart whenever you hear a raised voice. Celebrimbor is a good person to rant to because he understands the anger the best and while his father may have committed atrocities in the name of avenging his father - he is careful not to overshadow your own tumultuous feelings whenever you do express them. He just listens, adding scathing commentary when needed.
Honestly, you revealing the truth about your own parents relieves him a little - not because you grew up like that but because someone finally understands what it’s like for him as well. None of the other elves get it. But you do.
Arwen/Elladan/Elrohir
So, the reason these three are grouped together is simple - they’re raised by Elrond. They understand the weird direction of their father’s life and he talks openly about its effect on him with all three of them as they grow up. So, they are a prime example of the elves understanding that parents hating each other is a thing that happens, but none of them have first-hand experience with it.
Arwen, to her credit understands the best out of Elrond’s children. I fully believe she inherited Elrond’s foresight and uses it to intuit what she doesn’t understand already. Still, she is surprised to hear about your parents and tries her best to get her head around it. But she is not immune to the “why did they stay together” question. In her defense, she doesn’t expect you to have an answer.
Her brothers on the other hand do ask you fully expecting you to have some wisdom about it that they don’t. Being some of the youngest elves on this list, it makes sense. They’re mature enough to know that they don’t know everything but not mature enough to comprehend that you don’t know everything either.
All three of them have a million questions but try their best not to bombard you with them. They do, however, insist to their father that he help you with housing if you or your siblings should need it.
Lindir
I believe Lindir to be a smart but sheltered elf. We don’t know how old he is so I personally believe he is on the younger side, maybe barely older than Elladan and Elrohir.
He’s bookish and as a result of that he has a very scholarly understanding of the world - so he has possibly read stories about dysfunction households. But I think he believes them inventions of the author. As in, he thinks they are isolated incidents and not unfortunately common truths for the children of men.
He is floored when you tell him. He is good about not bombarding you with questions but he will ask you why your parents married in the first place. Whether you tell him they were in love once or were a political marriage he can only nod slowly as if he understands (he does not, he is so confused). He can only offer to do what he does best - listen to you if you choose to tell him.
Gil-Galad
Gil-Galad is someone who falls victim to his own preoccupations. It never crosses his mind that the attraction patterns of men are different from elves. He’s not so sheltered to think it impossible but it’s like an out of sight out of mind thing for him. He just doesn’t realize it’s a possibility.
In his defense, he does have a lot of things to worry about as high king and unfortunately the interpersonal politics of humans are not top of the list.
But he’s curious when you tell him and he listens attentively. Whether your parents married for social gain, love, or convenience - he asks careful questions about what it was like to grow up in such an environment. He wants to help and after you tell him this, he resolves to find a way to help other humans currently caught in unhappy households. Depending on your relationship with him (I.e. if it’s platonic) he kind of adopts you. He feels like he wasn’t there for you then but he can be here for you now.
Haldir
Haldir’s hard for me to place. On the one hand, as a border guard he has the chance to interact with more humans than a lot of elves on this list. So that should put him towards the top. But I also think he has a rather insular way of thinking. As in his main concerns are for the elves of Lorien and not the travelers he meets which means he might not inquire about their family lives.
Ultimately, I think he is similar to Gil-Galad in the sense that he just doesn’t think about it. If the few men he speaks to on his travels make a reference to a singular parent, he just assumes the other died because he can’t fully wrap his head around the idea that some people have a potentially volatile home life and might only feel close to one parent. Or neither. His immediate assumption is that the reason a human doesn’t mention their parents is because they died. He doesn’t mean for it to be, it just doesn’t cross his mind on its own.
But, he actually talks to you and when you explain to him that no, they stayed married because it was easier to raise you and your siblings that way but they always fought with each other - he is so shocked. His immediate thought is why didn’t they just leave each other, but he tries to puzzle that out on his own. Ultimately, he is very thoughtful about your circumstance and tries to be someone you can vent to when you need it. If your parents are still alive, he offers to accompany you to visit them if you ever need. And he does his best to secure you a safe place in Lorien should you need it.
Glorfindel
Glorfindel is a great elven warrior able to face many things and take down balrogs. He has no idea that childhood can be one of the most challenging parts of life. And I mean that sincerely. Glorfindel is rather oblivious to the affairs of men prior to his fall. His concerns are Gondolin and the safety of his people.
Now he was alive for the kinslaying, so he is not a stranger to violence against kin. But he thinks that the bond between parents and child is almost sacred and not something easily broken. He is sad when you tell him that the children of men are excluded from the idyllic home life guaranteed to the elves.
But he’s also impressed by you. You’re a good, kind-hearted person despite the tension you grew up in. And he thinks that is something to be admired. He devotes himself to helping establish safe homes for children who grew up like you, especially post-fall and him being sent back to middle earth. And he holds up his promise long after you have perished - committing the house of the golden flower to be a symbol of safe haven.
Tauriel
So, Tauriel, I think is the most understanding of the Woodland elves - she’s a guard, she patrols, I have a feeling she comes into contact with the people of Laketown regularly enough to have experienced a variety of family dynamics.
But she doesn’t expect you to have grown up in a household like that. I think because of Laketown’s apparent poverty post the fall of Dale there is a noticeable uptake in crime. And, unfortunately a lot of crime comes from the broken homes of Laketown - youth acting out to escape their parents bickering, parents causing distress to their children and partners, things like that. I think, subconsciously, she associates unhappy homes with unhappy people.
But you don’t fit the way she thinks. You’re sweet and caring and she feels the weight of cognitive dissonance like a shackle. It takes her awhile to reconcile her view of you but she does her best not to let you see. And she’s decently good at it until she starts asking questions. But she listens carefully and starts to look for warning signs in the people of Laketown that they may need help. She petitions Legolas to speak to his farther to offer refuge to those in Laketown that may need it and asks the dwarves of Erebor to do the same.
Thranduil
Thranduil, I think, suffers from some of the most insular thinking on this list. He focuses on the affairs of his elves and pays no mind to the problems of men. It’s how he’s kept his people safe.
Now, I personally, think Oropher was not the kindest father. I think he was stern and hard to please because he expected the best of himself and his people. So, this affects Thranduil’s perspective on parents quite a bit. He may feel that he was unloved at times but he can attest that his father loved his mother even if he was not good at displaying it. His views are skewed to say the least. So he thinks you’re exaggerating at first.
If two people hated each other as much as you claim, why would they have a child together? Let alone stay together to raise that child?
It takes a lot of explaining for him to realize exactly what you grew up in. And when he does, he feels awful for not believing you. He’s not the best at apologies but he tries to make up for it by extending his services to Laketown. He does eventually find it within himself to apologize to you, directly. And asks that you help him understand.
Legolas
He is gobsmacked. Genuinely, so shocked. I firmly believe that Legolas is one of the youngest elves on this list and as a result he still has some maturing and learning to do.
If this is during the fellowship, he has to ask Boromir and Aragorn if you’re telling the truth - that two people can stay together whilst hating each other. And that it’s common amongst humans. He then gets to learn about Boromir’s childhood as well.
His heart breaks a little. He wants only the best for the people he cares about so he’s saddened and angry to hear the pain in your voice even if it. Is well hidden. He promises, as your friend, to never let you be reminded of your family’s pain. It’s a naive promise but one he means full heartedly.
Note 3: thank you so much for this request, it was a much needed break from King’s Herald and actually helped me solve a plot hole I got into. And thank you for the kind words, I’ve been worried my writing’s gotten stale but hearing that people enjoy it helps me to work out of those funks. Thank you so much.
I love your headcannons and I have a small request... What part of the beloved's body do you think the characters like the most? (maybe during intimacy, idk) (if anything, I'm 18, I'm just a little embarrassed, so anonymous))
Edit: This, too, was buried in my drafts. So sorry to anon for never posting this! The original post is as follows ↓
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Sorry for taking so long, nonnie!
This one was interesting to think about because it’s not something I have thought about at all before – save for Haldir once, when I did a question meme with this exact question. I always love some body positivity and hope I did your request justice – enjoy! ♡
･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.
Though he has never said it out loud, Aragorn loves your hands the most. He loves holding them in his, even more so when you are alone and intimate. He likes feeling connected to you and hands are the best way for him to convey that emotion.
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･ﾟ✧ Arwen.
Arwen has a strong weakness for your cheeks during intimacy. She loves the way they blush and colour, as well as how soft they feel under her touches and kisses during sex. She will caress you on your cheek to show her affection in daily life, too.
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･ﾟ✧ Boromir.
Boromir always has and always will adore your legs. He loves their shape, their length, and the way you lie beside him in gardens or in his chambers. He will hold your legs and shower them with kisses – be it on your shin, knee, or high up on the thigh.
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･ﾟ✧ Elrond.
It might strike you as peculiar at first, but it dawns on you that Elrond is extremely weak for your collar bones. He delights in you wearing clothes that show them off and is diligent in stroking and kissing them when the two of you are finally alone ♡
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･ﾟ✧ Éomer.
Maybe it surprises himself at first, too, but Éomer has absolutely fallen in love with your hair. He marvels at its texture and beauty which leaves him breathless more often than not. If it is long enough, he will ask you if it’s okay for him to pull it when he kisses you.
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･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.
Éowyn loves your hands like no one else. Even if they’re rough or scarred, she will take them in hers, caress the palms of your hands and kiss your fingers. Perhaps she’d even bring you a calm or cream to soothe the skin. During sex, she prefers you using your hands over anything else.
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･ﾟ✧ Faramir.
With Faramir, there is no need to ever remind him that “my eyes are up here” – this man is on his knees with but a gaze from you, that’s how weak he is for your eyes. They have captivated him ever since he first saw you, and he loves gazing into them ♡
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･ﾟ✧ Frodo.
Frodo has a weakness for your mouth and often finds himself staring at your lips. Not only does he love your kisses but also your smile! The two of you will often play games involving your mouth, ranging from innocent picnic shenanigans to more intimate moments…
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･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.
Some time passes before you pick up on it, but Lady Galadriel seems to have found a liking for your head. She would often hold it in-between her hands – especially when kissing you – and asks you to rest your head on her lap.
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･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.
Gandalf would never tell you, but he is absolutely in love with your eyes. He has found himself just sitting and thinking about your lovely gaze and the colours of your eyes, sometimes even when he had set out to do something important…
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･ﾟ✧ Gimli.
Dear Gimli is very weak for your beautiful hair. He is aware of this ever since he first saw you – but he still blushes whenever he brushes your hair. Decorating your hair with flowers and jewellery gives him great joy.
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･ﾟ✧ Haldir.
Haldir’s favourite body parts – both on you and himself – are butts. He loves to caress and touch your butt and will secure clothes for you that look great on your behind. He may appear stone-faced, but in reality, this Elf is very easily smitten!
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･ﾟ✧ Legolas.
Being nonchalant and honest as he is, Legolas wastes no time answering your question about his favourite part of your body – he adores your nipples! He loves playing with them during sex – so much so that he sometimes finds himself begging ♡
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･ﾟ✧ Merry.
Continuing the characters with a liking for “sexier” bodyparts, Merry is entirely in love with your genitals. He won’t shut up about how beautiful you are and showers you with kisses down there. Should you ever voice insecurity about how you look down there, Merry is right there to praise you instead.
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･ﾟ✧ Pippin.
Pippin’s favourite parts of your body are your feet. In typical Hobbit fashion! He adores running across meadows barefoot with you, cooling your feet in brooks on hot summer days, and he gives the best foot massages.
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･ﾟ✧ Sam.
Being the hopeless romantic that he is, Sam has fallen deeply in love with your eyes. He loves gazing into your eyes when the two of you are talking and sometimes even writes poetry about your eyes. He is also very good at helping you find clothing that complements your eyes!
