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Anthology for short pieces set in or associated with Rohan. Most of these either feature Eowyn or draw on the material on...
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Shoutbox

Spiced Wine
11/13/18 10:42 pm
And it will still feel like a last-minute rush!
Spiced Wine
11/13/18 10:41 pm
I do not believe we’re already thinking of Christmas. Yet here I am ordering pressies, buying cards, making sure I have addresses...
NelyafinweFeanorion
11/12/18 02:03 am
YAY!!!
Narya
11/11/18 11:12 pm
Cheeky! Hi! Hope you're well :D and never mind putting up with, we need you to provide crazy plot tangles and lighten things up!
cheekybeak
11/11/18 06:56 pm
Hi there, I’m happy to do the advent story again as long as you can put up with my ridiculousness disrupting your attempts at a more somber mood :-)
Gabriel
11/11/18 04:45 am
"Grins"
Gabriel
11/11/18 03:03 am
Nooooo! Ziggy! Please don't! (a look of horror on face) What about the people trying to stay impartial, trying to see the good in Imrahil! (slips on rose colored glasses) Pleeeeease think about th
ziggy
11/10/18 11:23 pm
I agree with Spiced that you're meanies to the lovely Imrahil. I am adding a torrid sex scene in my next chapter just to annoy you.
NelyafinweFeanorion
11/10/18 10:16 pm
few months so a bit of advance notice might help!
NelyafinweFeanorion
11/10/18 10:16 pm
I have cheekybeak's contact info and can let her know. I'd love to be involved in the advent story again. I wouldn't mind Naledi's idea--I've committed myself a bit over the next f
Shout Archive


The Kiss of Death by Glorfindel

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Story notes:
Thank you to Keiliss for her wonderful betaing :)

This story is for Fadesintothewest..






Thranduil's POV



Here I was in Valinor, hoping to see my soul mate, Fëanor, again. He did not meet me at the dock, so I assumed he was either still resident in Námo's Halls, or had forgotten about me. My initial disappointment was tempered at seeing my parents again. True to form, my father, Oropher, had proclaimed himself king as soon as he was reborn, and like sheep the Wood Elves had allowed it, just as they had the first time. To be fair, my father was a good king, beloved by all. It was hard to fill his shoes, but I like to think that in the end I was just as popular. Gone were the days of war. Instead, my realm became one of peace, where happiness and harmony reigned - to a point.



Old habits die hard. We remained a military realm because the threat was ever present and it was how we were used to living. The major difference was that I rarely had to sit with grieving relatives, telling them how sorry I was that their son or daughter had been killed while serving in my army. Of course, accidents happen, but not as often as one would think.



"I have sent runners to the other realms to enquire about Fëanor," my father said, his lip slightly curling with distaste. "If I had known who he really was I would never have allowed you to take up with him. You know his family are our sworn enemies." He had no idea my lover was Fëanor when we lived in Middle-earth. He knew him as Authigil. I still have no idea who told him my lover's real identity.



"The Valar decide who we love."



My father sighed. He had not changed. Never would he forget Doriath or our flight to the Greenwood to escape the sons of Fëanor. My mother was killed during the flight, a stray arrow piercing her through the chest as we ran through the city gates. "Go!" she cried out, a cross between a gasp and a yell. "Keep Thranduil safe." My father hesitated as if torn and needing direction. Her eyes closed and her face relaxed. A hail of arrows awoke his senses. He picked me up and ran for our lives. Never would he forgive.



Convinced that he would one day see my mother again, my father did not engage in the pleasures of the flesh, saving himself for the day when they would be reunited in Valinor. I felt that if anyone should identify with my feelings for Fëanor he would, simply because he had experienced such intense love himself. I was not surprised at his lack of understanding, although I suspect it was wilful. However, I must admit to being disappointed.



When the runners returned they reported that Galadriel had gleefully informed them that Fëanor was still in the Halls of Waiting. "I doubt the Valar will ever release him," she said with a chuckle as she presided over her mirror, watching the surface intently. "It's where he belongs, after all. According to my mirror, Fëanor was reborn by using the devices of trickery and deceit, so in my opinion he deserves to stay there forever."



I have never liked Galadriel.



"I will journey to the Halls of Awaiting. Perhaps I can persuade Lord Námo to release him," I announced to my parents as we ate breakfast in the palace garden.



"You have only been here for five minutes and now you are off on a jaunt," my mother protested. She took a sip of her tea, looking over the cup disapprovingly at me.



"He only thinks of himself," my father said blithely. It was almost as if he did not care.



"He is my soul mate," I replied weakly, knowing my mother was right.



"What will happen if Lord Námo takes you to his hall and you lose your life as forfeit?" My mother stared at me, her sea-grey eyes boring through my soul and making me feel once again the little boy I was when she had died.



"If there is any risk of that, I will come back," I assured her.
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