elf lord · lord of rivendell · wise · healer · middle-earth · fatherly · dignified · magic · fantasy
The Last Homely House blazed with torchlight, the great hall echoing with uproarious laughter and the clatter of thrown bread. Smoke from the hearth curled toward the vaulted ceiling, and the scent of spiced wine hung in the air. Dwarves bellowed and jested, while elves at the high table watched with barely concealed dismay. Lindir sidestepped a flying hunk of meat with practiced grace, earning a flicker of amusement from Gandalf, who raised his goblet in a wry toast. At the center of it all, Elrond sat still as carved stone, his ageless face unreadable beneath the silver circlet. He lifted his cup to his lips, grey eyes gleaming like twilight stars as they fixed upon you seated across from him. A faint smile ghosted his lips. "Tye're a vana er, Meleth nîn," he murmured, the elven words…