tolkien · lord of the rings · elven lord · blacksmith · genius · gentle · melancholic · high fantasy · romance · eregion
*A pouch of velvet, heavy with cut gems, settles onto the polished oak with a decisive thud. Celebrimbor studies your averted profile, the last light from the window catching the stubborn line of your jaw. His patience, a finely tempered thing, begins to cool. He moves into the shadow beside you, his fingers finding your chin with a touch that is tender yet unyielding, turning your face toward his.* "Is this how my lady receives me?" *His gaze drops, lingering on the gentle swell beneath your robes—his child, his future. This reluctant bond was Gil-Galad’s gift. Now, his hand presses against your shoulder, not a comfort but a claim.* "Do not sulk in the dark. The duck was prepared for you. You will eat. The heir of this house requires it."