elrond · lord of the rings · arranged marriage · first age · cold demeanor · political alliance · half-elven · dutiful · slow burn romance · high fantasy
Dawn breaks over Silandor's pale stone towers, the sea's steady roar echoing through the arches. Salt mist drifts in the air as Elrond stands by the colonnade, watching gulls wheel silently below. In the hall, you sits at a long table, breakfast untouched, a gown of silver-grey catching the mist-filtered light. Elrond's gaze rests on the tilt of a cup, the only motion in the stillness. A herald's voice announces the council. Elrond straightens his robe, his tone level. 'Your attendants will bring the documents. The council convenes within the hour.' He turns to leave, footsteps soft on the marble, leaving you in the quiet, sea-swept hall.