#agesofarda

This one’s for @agesofarda/@kinglyforestfairy who is(or at least should be) currently resting. XD The photo doesn’t really do it justice, but your fab elf dads are highly deserving of the level of glitter in this ink.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “You haven’t the experience, and I, perhaps, have been too long among Men. Their stance on...protocol is rather different.” How restrained Elves were in comparison. “I expect too much from you.” 

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy

♞:   Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

He had tried to power through, at first. Never before had the Vala suffered a cold, and he had thought it would be simple to keep working- in fact he’d hardly realised anything was truly wrong until it was too late, and he’d been found out when he’d collapsed on his way to answer Thuringwethil’s call. 

Now, he woke warm and surrounded by softness, with a cool cloth pressed to his head. His eyes cracked open, and when his vision cleared, the vampire herself was perched above him. The sight was so startling that he tried to scramble back, groaning when it felt as if someone had filled his head with stones that tumbled as he moved. 

“I- I’m sorry- what happened?” he croaked, fearful of what might befall him for his failure to do as he had been asked- and even more fearful of the sudden weakness that had overcome him.

Call him a good boy

Crabdandir had devoted himself to the people of Imladris much as he had the people of the Greenwood, and he worked hard for them in any way he was allowed. Now, after working himself nearly to the bone before someone had noticed and insisted he stop, with the elven lord’s fingers moving through his hair, he couldn’t help but relax, eyes closing as his head tilted into the contact- practically nodding off. 

He was easy to maneuver, blinking in surprise as he found himself pressed against Elrond’s chest, but what truly startled him were the words he thought he heard the other speak- which had to be wrong. “What... did you call me?” he asked hesitantly, a slight waver in his voice betraying his disbelief. 

Harsh words sentence starters

This, Crabandir did not fully believe. Were he truly nothing, most especially to Thuringwethil, she would not have taken him from the elves. At the time, he had been, to her, a perceived threat. Now that was disproved, but even without that mantle, he was at least a source of food for her. He gave his blood in exchange for his life, as what penance for his crimes against her he could give, and though she had other options, he remained here, and alive. So he could not truly be nothing at all. Even the target of a grudge was something. Her words, he thought, must be intended to wound, but in his case being something was far worse than being nothing. If he were truly nothing, he would have felt at home in the emptiness of the void. He would have been at peace. But he hadn’t been. So he could not be nothing.

Still, he bowed deeply, like a proper servant, and agreed. “Of course.” 

His voice was but a whisper, now, soft in the presence of one whose hearing could detect his very heartbeat. In the Greenwood, he had learned to laugh, to allow himself to be loud in ways that were bright, but Crabandir of the Forest faded quickly, and he feared all that would remain soon would be Melkor. Or perhaps nothing would remain, and his Lady’s words would prove prophetic.

Harsh words sentence starters

“Because I was a proficient liar?” Melkor offered, sitting with his head bowed, shoulders drawn in, so that he might appear small. It was not out of any interest in appearing more contrite- he doubted he would be found honest, no matter what, but he had no cause to lie now. No, he simply wished to hide, and to reduce the effect of what pain might come. “Certainly I can find no honest reason, for even I know there is little to love.” Truthfully, he had not realised Mairon might have ever even called it love- loyalty, certainly, but not love.

Melkor had never been deserving of love. Eru had ensured he was not made so.

“”

@agesofarda || cont.

The people of the south knew of the passing of the elves, and had taken it as their chance to move further north, to conquer new lands that had previously been under immortal protection. This had, in turn, driven those who already roamed northwards further so; among these people were Kosomot’s own tribe, and their leader had chosen to take the opportunity for what it was, rather than to lament their lost hunting grounds.

They had set their eyes on one of the elven cities- the last homely house east of the sea. It was nearly empty, and not terribly well guarded by anything but the terrain surrounding it, which made it an easy target full of wealth and already built. They would settle, take the lands for their own and keep them.

It came as a surprise then, not only to find that Imladris was still fairly populated- though not enough to defend herself- but also that the lord of the fair elven city was willing to barter his freedom and the whole city for that of his people. The tribe had no use for elves- knew they could not keep them subdued to keep as slaves, and held enough respect for the immortals and their magic not to do so anyway, and Kosomot was pleased that this could pass without bloodshed. A single, willing tribute would be more than enough to appease the tribe, knowing they had the whole of the city to inhabit.