aceofducks

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  1. Rec 56

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    "Would you do it again?" Elrond dares, his voice breaking on the question. "If you could go back, knowing everything—would you still jump?"

    Elwing is quiet for a long moment. 

    Then she turns to him, face carefully composed, her voice near-inaudible: "What was the bride-price you named for your daughter, Elrond?"
    _____________

    The story of a monumental choice that shaped the life of Elrond Peredhel, told in seven unanswered questions, and an eighth asking to be understood.

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    11 Feb 2026

  2. Rec 55

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    Fingon comes to Himring bearing an invitation and a mess of unspoken feelings. Maedhros receives him with a banquet, a battle, and a whole lot of emotional baggage of his own. They sort themselves out, eventually.

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    05 Feb 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 25

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    Celebrimbor had shoved all the furniture to one side, and so far had covered one-and-a-half sides of the room with chalk sketches and equations in the cramped tengwar he reverted to when drafting.

    Annatar took it all in at a glance. “That is quite a contraption you are designing.”

    OR: Celebrimbor invents a thing, Annatar helps, and both of them staunchly refuse to acknowledge it might be a metaphor for anything. Certainly not their relationship.

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    05 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 28

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    It was thus in every new meeting with every figure out of legend: all of them celebrated him and honored him, and told him over and over how valiant they thought him, and all the while Frodo felt less and less at ease with every encounter. Tonight, at an evening gathering of feast and music, he found himself ducking into a side room to escape the Hall of Song. Just his luck that the room he escaped to turned out not to be empty.

    Or: A conversation between Celebrimbor and Frodo in Valinor in the Fourth Age.

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    05 Feb 2026

  5. Rec 41

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    Valinor was every bit as beautiful as the songs promised.

    Its streets glittered with the dust of diamonds, gleaming under the radiant light of a sun that shone brighter, purer over the hallowed lands than it ever had over Middle-earth. The peaks of the Pelori, soaring and snowcapped, loomed pristine in the distance, mocking her with every glimpse. These were not mountains that had ever known the tread of an orc's foot, nor suffered spilt blood or harrowed screams. Even the sands of Eldamar were white and silken underfoot, nothing like the abrading grit of the beaches of Belfalas where her mother had once reigned.

    Celebrían hated it.

    *
    On names, grandmothers, and what it's like to live when the whole world thinks you should not have.

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    29 Nov 2025