For the record, contrary to what he knew others thought, he did not spend every evening watching Aredhel. When he attended at all, it was usually at Maeglin’s urging, and he spent most of the night sulking and avoiding conversation.

But tonight, she had worn something that made his pulse quicken, more daring than anything he had ever seen her in. He had hardly been able to look away.

“I have no reason to be jealous.” That was not the same as saying he wasn’t jealous. “We are not...”

"Hmm…. you really think so? You're welcome to try. Think you can change my mind enough to forget about Thingol calling me a child?"

It was technically true. It had not been him personally who had stabbed the unfortunate smith. This elf had been a thorn in his side, shooting down many of his plans for the crafting of Rings with the other Mírdain. So Annatar had found his lover and dripped poison into their ear, convincing them the man was a scoundrel and a cheat. The rest had taken care of itself.

“I do not know.”

That was a lie.

“Is there nothing that can be done for him?”

Thingol swept up the dais to the throne, gaze set on the objects placed on his own. He bent down to grasp them up, looking between the two plushies and quirking a brow at the words. "Hmm," he murmured, looking then about the throne room for perhaps a culprit who still lingered in the shadows.

JEALOUS, FIERCELY PROTECTIVE & TERRITORIAL PROMPTS

accepting @iriysse / @ondothlim sent: [ RESCUE ]  for one muse to intervene upon seeing a third party making the other one uncomfortable. // @ondothlim : Glorfindel 👀

𝑳𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑺𝑷𝑼𝑹 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑺 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑼𝑰𝑳'𝑺 𝑷𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬. Fortunately, she hadn't come alone. Glorfindel had accompanied her either as a protector or an additional envoy. Lark didn't care for either. She could've handled this task alone and yet Lord Elrond thought it prudent to send Glorfindel along with her. She suspected that he just wanted a few days of peace and quiet. 

The party seemed to go on, a celebration of the stars. When she had enough of socializing, Lark discreetly made her move to leave and retire for the night. She had been successful until she stepped down a deserted corridor. Another elf, one of King Thranduil's friends, she believed had stopped her from chatting. He towered over her, and Lark frowned as they exchanged pleasantries. Lark had been polite in her departure, but she felt the drunken elf grab her wrist. Anger flickered in her eyes and she had a half of mind to run her blade through him, but that would only escalate the delicate relationship between realms. 

❝ 𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞. ❞ She ordered, but the elf only gripped her wrist harder. Lark glared and was about to strike when she saw a flash of gold, her wrist released, and Glorfindel standing between her and her assailant. 

❝ 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥.  ❞ Lark spoke and crossed her arms. ❝ 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐠𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.❞ She said in hopes of diffusing the situation. She blinked, she could've been mistaken but she thought she saw a glimmer of anger in the other's eyes. It sparked her heart to flutter a bit and she looked away. It couldn't be, she had never seen Glorfindel angry about anything. 

❝ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐡'𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝. ❞ 

In the early Laurelin glow, Maitimo stood in the gardens of Nolofinwe's palace, right under Irisse's windows, just like they had agreed the previous day. Their horses, which he had readied and brought from the stables, awaited nearby, grazing quietly.