#ofgoldcnflowcrs

[wulfiestired]

The softest, sweetest kiss of fealty as a fair Golden Lord bowed low before his King and gave his own oath. Gentle lips pressed to the back of a hand, and forget-me-not eyes were bright with warmth, with affection.

   ✧✧✧ DOKI DOKI ✧✧✧

[beautyxmarred-m]

[ @ofgoldcnflowcrs continued from here ]

"What Rainor did was to not only embarrass himself––and, by extension, me––but to endanger everyone in the party, three of whom were Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and––of course, the one time he would journey here––Lord Celeborn."

Another sigh, his exasperation giving way to a quieter, almost regretful note.

"And, once the danger was passed, I… reacted poorly and used rather sharp words with Haldir about his trainee… within the hearing of the Lords and the Lady…"

There are several moments of silence and then one arm comes up to cover his eyes before the quiet admission escapes.

"If you had seen his expression… I have little doubt he will wish to return with them now…"

[lindeaewen-a]

@ofgoldcnflowcrs | continued from (x)

The sound of despair in Glorfindel’s voice tugged at Lindir’s heart in a most unpleasant way. He took several steps forward so that he was only an arm’s length from his friend as he turned around. There were worry lines between Lindir’s brow; though this was not an uncommon sight, never had he thought there was any cause to worry over the Golden Lord, in spite of the very obvious knowledge that Glorfindel had lost everything.

Lindir reached out his hand and used his thumb to gently wipe away some of the tears that fell onto Glorfindel’s cheek. “There is nothing to forgive.” he whispered, suddenly feeling a strong urge to cry, too. 

He knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain that Glorfindel felt, but still, he stepped forward and folded his arms around his dear friend and said very delicately, “I am sorry.”

[allxthatxisxlost]

starter for @ofgoldcnflowcrs

If an owl could coo then perhaps that is the best description of the sound Ralach makes, staring up at the being with the long and shining golden feathers. How often he must preen to keep them so bright! And how strange he is, this other friend of his Meara-friend, yet Ralach is certain he is good. Yes, he is very good.

Perhaps he will even be good enough to give Ralach a scritch!

[bitterxrain]

[ @ofgoldcnflowcrs continued from here ]

Only a moment later, a second glass shatters on the floor. Not because the one holding it had taken a sip from it. No, indeed, it was the very glass that Saeros had been holding out to his King…

He had almost taken a sip out of one of the glasses first with some joking comment about how if he must serve it, did he not deserve the first glass? He had almost… He had… He should have. Would that it were him instead of the one now lying on the floor, frozen as though lifeless!

He had been facing Thranduil when Glorfindel had suddenly stopped mid-word and had spun around as soon as the glass had shattered upon impact with the floor. And then he, as the others, had watched in horror as the Golden Lord had collapsed.

In his wide-eyed and wordless shock, he hears Thranduil give such a cry as he would never have expected the Elven-king could make and watches as he runs to kneel beside his fallen gwador, turning him onto his back and lifting him to be cradled against him.

❛ Glorfindel! Glorfindel! ❜

It is enough that Saeros’ own broken cry escapes him and he starts toward him only to be caught up in strong arms and held, unable to do anything more than to watch the scene unfold. 

Dimaethor had seen what the younger ellon would do and had stopped him just in time to prevent him from crashing into King Oberon who drops himself down beside Thranduil and the one he holds.

❛ Keep him as you have him, and speak to him, ❜ the Faerie King instructs Thranduil, who begins speaking to Glorfindel, pain and desperation in his voice, every word a plea for him to stay, to hold on, to not give up. 

Oberon checks his pulse and grabs hold of the collar of Glorfindel’s golden silk blouse and tears it open. 

With the ellon’s chest exposed, his hands settle over a still beating heart, and with one quiet yet ancient word, all of his markings appear and take on a luminous glow, brightening and dimming with the steady rhythm of his own heart as he flows his magic––his own lifeblood––into the other’s chest and through his veins with the blood, trying to push the poison away from the heart. The Fae knows that sensation in and of itself might be agony, but it cannot be avoided. 

It may be the other’s only hope…

❛ It acts fast which works against us, yet he is not beyond hope but I need Puck. This poison is powerful and ancient and I fear that all I may do on my own is to slow its course. ❜

He could call for Puck by his true name, summon him to him as he has many times before, but it is not a risk he can take, even under such circumstances as these. Or perhaps especially under such circumstances as these when he cannot know if a villain lurks even in this room, among the faces of servants and guards unknown to him. Were someone to obtain Puck’s true name, to hold such sway and power over him … No. Even to save Glorfindel’s life, it would not be wise…

And so Oberon looks up, eyes searching the room only to stop at the door to see the very Fae best suited to find the one whose presence he requires.

❛ Meara! Go to find your father. Hurry! ❜

The urgency of his voice, the underlying fear, and the way in which the younger Fae so quickly winks from sight is perhaps what finally does it.

Saeros at last dissolves into tears, clinging to Dimaethor as terrible sobs shake him, sobs that would not be soothed even by the guard’s attempts to calm him with rubbing circles on his back or even the single broken and strained word that he forces past his lips,

❛ Peace. ❜

There would be no peace. Not for him.

He had done this. He is to blame. It is his fault that this beautiful and noble elf lies on the ground, others having to fight for his life. Glorfindel who had shown him nothing but warmth and kindness, who had held him in his own terror and encouraged him in his doubt––and it was by his own hand that the poison had been delivered.

What has he done? What has he done?

[trickstercaptain-archive]

😭 When was their first breakup?

love & sexuality headcanon meme | not accepting | @ofgoldcnflowcrs

😭 When was their first breakup?

      I guess this really has to be at the mid-point of TPOF, during the Shipwreck chapters, when Jack is separated from Esmeralda after trusting Christophe and attempting to free him from the dungeons ( he believed that Christophe was innocent of being a rogue pirate, and he was oh so wrong and Christophe betrayed him and then pressganged him on board his ship ). It wasn’t a breakup in the traditional sense but he was absolutely beside himself for making such a stupid mistake, and pined over Esmeralda for some time before coming to the conclusion that he would likely never see her again and dealing with that fact. Also, it doubly hurts him after reuniting with Esmeralda too, because he eventually comes to realise how much damage Christophe’s manipulating and victimisation of him has caused her as well, and in true Jack style he blames himself for it. 

[warriorswithin]

LORD GLORFINDEL. 

“You are alright,” Glorfindel agreed softly, “and I will be beside you every step of the way here, dear Lady Ariën.” He cared for her as the Fire Spirit she was, as the Maiar, as the burning Sun of the world, and she could do less harm to him, perhaps, than most. Still he did not risk touching her, not in this moment. Partially because he did not know whether, right now, she would welcome it. Partially because he was wary of her flames, while they were so bright and roaring. “Do you require anything? Is there any way that I can soothe you?”

       Her hands trembled slightly, not as much as it did before,the flames lowering in her hands, ceasing almost, when her bright eyes as the sun set themselves on the Lord —— his voice soothing as ever, her mind focusing on his caring words. She felt the warmth lowering and the flames ceased in her hands seconds after. Still, weary to approach the Lord, afraid of harming him, she remained away from him so he would be put in danger. 

      She was feeling rather ashamed for her outburst, a sudden ashamed feeling as her bright eyes directed themselves to her hands that were pulled back to her chest quickly. The memories were still fresh they did not fade or forgive the fire spirit. 

      ❝I apologize, My Lord Glorfindel,❞ she began, shaking her head softly, voice trembling. ❝He keeps on haunting my mind I cannot seem to... find a way to block him.❞ she mumbled then, stepping even further away from Lord Glorfindel. ❝Your mere presence soothes me, My Lord. I would dare not to request anything else.❞

( @ofgoldcnflowcrs. ) 

[lindeaewen-a]

LORD GLORFINDEL:

"O, dearest Songbird...your music was beautiful tonight." In the doorway, Glorfindel had taken Lindir's face so tenderly in his hands, and stooped to press a kiss to his forehead. He lingered there mere moments before pulling away. "Your voice is a rare treasure, fairer than all of the flowers of Valinor."

        Lindir tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the kind words evoking a small, nervous laugh from him. It surprises him entirely every time he plays that the Elves of Rivendell think his songs worthy to listen to; he has never been a performer. His technique is not so refined as the minstrels that he has heard playing here - the only training he has under his belt is hours upon hours alone with no company and naught but his harp. 

        The affectionate action is nice, and Lindir curls one arm around Glorfindel’s middle while he is still in reach. The Elves he’s encountered so far seem to be much more shy about touch than they are in the Greenwood, and Lindir has quickly found himself starved of it. “Thank you, my Lord,” he says quietly, unable to stop himself from beaming ear-to-ear at such a compliment. “That is ever so kind of you. It is an honour to know that you enjoy listening to me.”

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