Give Me A Sword He Made And I Will Never Lay It Out Of My Hand Ever Again

give me a sword he made and i will never lay it out of my hand ever again 🤭

Imagine asking Halbrand if he'd make you a sword...

Imagine asking Halbrand if he'd make you a sword after shamelessly admiring him while he worked and being in awe as you inspect the blades he made.

You commented that they almost sing as you wield them, quietly murmuring, wondering, if it would be possible to make a blade that would sing on its own.

He asked what you meant, and you bashfully explained that you were always fascinated by the stories you heard about the blades that the Dark Elf, Eöl, created.

The following teasing banter was nothing out of usual, except you have seen the spark in his eyes that your unsaid challenge started in him. He would do it, you could tell, and it would prove your suspicions about him.

Only, you were not sure you wanted to be right anymore...

oh wait, you’re words are making me blush so hard rn 🤭 this definitely is valinor — and ofc i like it!! i’m so excited what will come next from you 🫶🏽

bound

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: reader is captured from the comfort of her home to serve the Dark Lord, Morgoth. his loyal servant lures her further into darkness

warnings: some fighting, but nothing really

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: i had an idea in my mind for weeks now and really wanted to write a witch!reader but i’m not sure how it will turn out if i start writing more for it. consider it a one shot for now

The chains dug mercilessly into your neck and wrists, every movement reminded you that you would not be so easily free. You cursed yourself for being so reckless, for becoming too careless, too comfortable in your own home. He needed a healer or so they said when they stormed in the middle of the night and dragged you away from Greenwood. Your body covered in wounds, dried blood clinging to your clothes as they threw you into a cell and laughed as they left.

You were aware of who Morgoth was, how could you not? Forodwaith was a fortress that not many dared to cross into and not many managed to leave unharmed. Every fight, every battle you tended to him, much to your dislike. He nearly killed you the first time you refused and left you unconscious for days from one single blow. The next time you didn’t fight back, you told yourself it would be easier to stay compliant until the opportunity arose and after centuries of waiting it did.

Morgoth was defeated, you should rejoice, then why didn’t you? Years of torment left you numb and still chained in your cell with no light of hope for freedom.

You awaited your end and as the last bit of light shone into your cell you heard it, an orc staggering through the halls, his steps uneven as if he drank too much ale, and perhaps he did. You move to the shadows and wait, your hand lingers by the bars as the orc passes through, one precise cut is all it takes for him to stumble onto the ground.

Your hand holds a bone, carved to a sharp point and for a split second, you think back to that faithful day when it landed in your cell. Months it took you to carve it, your nails broken, your hand cut by the many stones you used to chip away piece by piece at it.

The orc crawls to you but you drive the weapon into his neck, his scream dies as it pierces his throat, you grab the set of keys at his side and retreat your weapon. You unlock the cell and your chains, a breath of relief goes through you as the weight is lifted but your moment of joy has to wait, you’re not free yet.

You toss the orc into your cell and hide him in the shadows, his legs peeking in the light, a small diversion should anyone look for you. You grab his weapons and lock the cell, you step quietly on the stone and hear an orc at the end of the path, you hide in the shadows but they do nothing to shield you from his view.

The orc attacks you and another joins, you stumble back as he kicks you in the stomach and you duck to avoid his blade. Your eyes flash with anger as you cut at his calves and stab him from behind, the other orc receives a dagger thrown at his head, both of them land with a thud. A moment passes as you compose yourself when you hear the orcs coming to inspect the noise.

You do your best to hide and cover yourself with a piece of fabric that was tossed on the floor, a foolish hideout but your mind did not cooperate how you wanted it to.

Morgoth took whatever rational thinking you had left and shattered it to pieces, he prided himself that a Silvan Elf could be so easily broken.

The orcs leave and you walk away as quietly as you can. The halls continue to stretch as you walk down and you hear a voice and chatter of orcs, you realize it’s the throne room but where Morgoth usually stood, another took his place, his most loyal servant. You hear him before you see him as you take a glance from the column that shields you on the gallery.

“For I seek a new kind of power.” his voice commands in the place but you see his hands fidgeting slightly. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world.” you scoff under your breath.

Those were your words.

As you laid in your cage he visited you, a strange occurrence it was as no one has talked with you in centuries. Not a real conversation at least.

“I see why he has kept you around.” he says as he strides towards your cell. The cut that previously adorned his face now completely healed. “No healer of his has ever survived that long.”

You do not answer, your mouth too dry to fire back any response. He had no orders to come to you, his curiosity got the best of him for he knew you were not simply a Silvan Elf, something else resided in you, something that he could use.

“It is not very often that an Elf would separate from their people… I wonder what caused your decision for such an act?” he says and you look up at him, his red hair neatly combed, not a mess you saw after the orc brought him to you.

“Why did you let Morgoth corrupt you?” you ask suddenly and he arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“She speaks.” he responds. “What makes you think he corrupted me?”

“You used to serve Aulë, the very smith of the Valar. How can one turn to darkness so swiftly?”

He waits before he speaks. “Shouldn’t you know?” a breath catches in your throat, for that single question makes you rethink some of your choices. It’s no secret to why you left, you have all but became a whisper on their tongues, a passing shadow.

No respected Elf should dabble in the dark arts.

“You may have reached for it but you do not know how freeing it can be once you let it in completely.” he responds and you walk closer to the bars that separate you. Your hands rest on the cold iron as he steps closer. He takes a longer look at you but you don’t avert his gaze. “You could be free of this.” he taps the chains around your wrists. “You could be more than just a Silvan Elf, cast out by their own.”

Your lips part to speak but he leaves as quickly as he arrived, leaving you to ponder over his words.

Oropher knew you’d grown too accustomed to studying it, your hands reflected it as they grew darker at your fingertips. He saw how quick to anger you’ve become over the simplest things and had no choice but to cast you out. People started to talk.

The balance in his kingdom could not be disrupted so quickly.

Solitude has become your friend in the long years, the trees surrounding you a solace and the spiders crawling over your head an omen for the Elves. They knew you practiced magic, but even the smallest dip into the dark had set the pond to ripple through. The spiders ran down from the north and near the Elvenking’s Halls, leaving webs and plundering the forest ever so slightly.

It’s a few months later when he appears before your cell again. He’s been known to seek you out every now and then.

Morgoth never knew that his loyal servant would spend his time in front of your cage.

You don’t hide in the shadows this time and walk closer. He studies you again, his gaze unyielding as much as yours. Morgoth took his time tormenting you and yet you stand without a trace of any pain, you’ve learned to hide it well.

“Have you come to gloat?” you ask him. He was there as his master placed wounds on your body, carved marks into it to condemn you, should you ever return to the Elves. He shakes his head.

“Believe me, I did not take pride in witnessing it.”

You’re surprised. “Does your wretched soul have a heart?” you ask with a hint of sarcasm. You’d be a fool to believe a word out of his mouth and yet you feel a hidden intention beneath it. “What do you want?”

He places his hands on the bars. “You come rather quick to anger.” he exclaims.

“So you’ve come to lecture me.”

“No, no. I would not dare.” he raises his arms as if in surrender. He lets his hand fall and he grabs your chains, he traces the iron before his fingertips go over the blackened fingertips, you feel a quick sting under your finger and notice he drew your blood. You look at him with a question. After a moment he asks the one thing that has been on his mind. “Have you considered my offer?”

You look down at your hand and the blood as you heal yourself. “Is that what you call it?”

“You and I are not so different.” he begins. “Both lured by the darkness, bound to it whether in this life or the next.” his eyes watch you as you use your magic and he smiles softly. It’s a strange sight coming from him but you suppose it goes hand in hand with his twisted nature.

“I did not chose it. I did not want it.” you lie and make yourself believe in the truth of your words.

“Then how did it come to being in your life, hm? Surely you must have sought it out, any scroll, any passage in a book that could help you understand it.”

“Hold your tongue.” you warn him.

“I think you did want it. You craved it, in fact.” he says and whispers. “You could have the world at your fingertips, within your reach. No Elvenking to ever exile you again.” his voice grows softer as he says it and a part of you wants to believe him.

“You’d make me a tyrant.”

He shakes his head. “No, not a tyrant.” his words are left hanging in the air.

You step closer until you reach the bars, he doesn’t step back. “And if I agree, what then? I’ll have the power of the unseen world but what of the lives of others?”

“It will be in your path to decide what you should do with them. A power over a world you would see fit.”

You laugh and turn away from him. It dies down as you mutter to yourself, the bit of your mind that Morgoth has twisted makes itself known. “A power over flesh.”

He tilts his head as he listens, he knows you could be a valuable ally to his scheme, you simply need a little persuasion. “You’ll be at peace once you let it in.” he leaves you once again with his words echoing in your mind. No use of the dark magic takes toll on your body, even if it’s a quick spell your mind yearns for the familiar warmth of it.

His words don’t leave you for days.

Peace.

Something you haven’t felt in a long time. Could it be the answer?

“Doubt me at your peril.” he says and after a moment an orc attacks him. He stabs him in the eye once, for a split second he observes before plunging it into him again and again until the orc lays dead on the ground. You look down at Sauron as Adar comes with Morgoth’s crown, he looks up at it and his eyes wander to the place where you stand. You hide behind the column and hear the roar of orcs, you look down to see them attacking Sauron, the black blood pools around him and you use the commotion to run to the exit, no orc sees you, no one follows as you run through the land with your feet bare.

You run as fast as your legs are able to take you and a blast from the fortress knocks you down. When you come to it you see the snow and ice surrounding the area.

It came from the fortress. You feel a pang in your chest and hear a passing whisper in the back of your mind. You think nothing of it but a part of you wants to return and see for yourself.

You shake your head from the thought and begin to march forward.

As you walk through Forodwaith you reach a road, despite being miles away from your prison the snow covers all land and now it makes you wonder if it could be Sauron’s doing. You don’t get to think over it as a searing pain goes through your head, stronger than before.

Your knees buckle underneath you as you cradle your head, trying to make the pain go away. You don’t feel the ground when you fall unconscious.

Softness is the first thing you notice as you come back to it. The light shines through the balcony and the curtains flow in the wind, a familiar face sits by the bed. Her voice is muffled in your ears when she calls your name.

“We have all thought you were gone.”

You sit up on the bed as you take a look at Galadriel. You cough and rub at your eyes. “I would not be so easily killed, Commander.” you look around the room and notice the guards at the door. You look to Galadriel and her gaze is sorrowful.

You knew this day would come, Oropher made sure of it that every Elf was made aware of you.

A witch.

An Elf who was seduced by the dark magic. You hide your hands within the long sleeves of your dress. It is then that you notice the torn clothes you wore for years are gone.

You sigh and get out of the bed. “Lead away.” you say and you follow her through Lindon. You see the looks the Elves give you, the whispers where the word “Morgoth” lands on their tongue with such ease.

Lindon is ever beautiful as you remembered. Trees soaring around you, birds flying above you. And yet you feel the sickness that lies upon the land.

You look up as you reach the Great Tree and notice the black veins curling around some leafs. You give a short nod to the High King but his expression is ever so serious.

You dread his judgment.

and she‘ll never be

she in fact, was not

he‘s such a cutie pookie

charlie vickers training to be a smith

well, this gets more and more interesting 🙂‍↔️

And Comes Dawn pt iv

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader

Summary: truths are revealed.

Warings: talk of mass murder, mentions of death, family loss, angst, reader gets angry a little bit, flashbacks, I'm sure yall will have more questions

Notes: this part is kinda short. I'm not super fond of it. I don't think I got galadriel down. Idk Idk I just think it doesn't read all that great. Feedback is appreciated. I love yall honestly.

He could feel the beast approaching before he saw the masts in the fog. The impending doom of everyone on board this raft was minutes away and the elf set his plans aflame with 4 words.

“I know your face.”

Her words and the look on your face as she spoke them played over and over on an endless loop. He could not figure out what you could possibly have done to gain the elves' attention. You stood there still, looking as if you wanted the sea to swallow you whole.

“Look! There's a ship.” Someone called. Everyone looked toward the horizon, but he slowly made his way towards you. He couldn't let you die, even though it was the sole reason he'd called the beast here. Perhaps he'd never be able to do it either way, but he knew now that your death wasn't an option.

There was a small back and forth, was it a corsair ship or was it help? It didn't take long before he hear your voice whisper the truth.

“That's our ship.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, did screaming and panic set in amongst the ship inhabitants, one even pushing the elf overboard. He could see the fear on face, feel it emanating off of you. Your arms wrapped around your body and eyes clamped closed. His attempts to block you from his mind had made you feel alone. He could see that much. He knew in that instance he'd never be able to leave you to die.

“Sweet one,” He reaches for you, gently holding your face in his hands and making you look at him. Those eyes. What was happening to him? “Look at me.sweet one, I will die before I allow any harm to come to you. Do you understand? Stay by side.” He searched your eyes to make sure you understood. The way you fear disappeared under his gaze, and the little nod to your head was stirring something, a warmth, deep within him. If he reached back to distant memories within his mind, the feeling wasn't unfamiliar, and he'd once been filled with it.

It was unwelcome now, though, and he wouldn't allow himself to name the feeling. He banished it from his thoughts as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. This was nothing more than a deception to sate his growing curiosity and nothing more. He removed his hands from your face, and you instantly held on to his wrist, keeping him anchored to your side. He could feel your pulse quicken as the beast swam under the raft and again when it pushed its body into it.

“This way, sweet one.” He called over the sound of wood breaking and screams, the waves crashing. His fingers tangled with yours as he was all but dragged along with him. Quickly, he had untied a small portion of the raft, pushing it so you were out to safety.

“We can't leave her out there,” you motioned towards the elf, swimming away from the calamity.

He had no intentions of leaving her for a multitude of reasons, but it was interesting that you wanted to save her. She obviously knew something about you that you didn't want known, and it would all go away if you let the elf drown.

But you didn't want that to happen.

Of course you didn't.

He wouldn't be in this mess if you were that easy to read.

~

You sat back against one of the spikes, the raft causing your body to rock to and fro. You didn't look at Halbrand, nor at the elf - whose name you'd learned was Galadriel. You simply looked out at the waves, memories that you struggled to forget playing over and over in your mind.

“Up, up little one,” a deep voice laughed, picking you up and standing you on the table. Your father rested his forehead against yours, and you giggled. The music from the festival was loud outside the doors to your small home but Mama had said you couldn't go due to your fever. You needed rest, she had told you and your father repeatedly, but your Papa ignored her.

His hands clasped your face, “Perhaps we cannot dance out there, but we will in here.” A kiss pressed to your nose as he lifted you in his arms and danced throughout the living area as your body shook with laughter.

You were pulled from your memory by Halbrands voice, “You needn't keep your distance.”

“I am not keeping my distance. I am simply wondering what manner of man would leave his companions to die,” the elf replied back, eyes not looking at him nor attention away from her task.

“One who knows how to survive.”

Those words tore you back into your memories.

“If you do not do this, you will never know how to survive.” Your brother towered over you with his arms crossed, looking at you expectantly. He was 11 years older than you, and he tried to parent you often.

“Papa says I'm only 6, and I needn't worry about that yet.” You responded by pushing your plate away and crossing your arms, staring up at him with a firey defiance.

“You must always be ready for….”

“For what, boy?,” your uncle interjected, “ I heard no marching of armies? No horns blaring. I simply see a young girl who wishes not to eat the radishes your mother made for dinner. It is hardly a matter of life and death.”

Your brother sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms. He had the best intentions, he truly did. He simply wants what was best for you, wants you to be healthy and strong and not have a hunger in your belly.

Halbrand and the elf continued their bickering as your mind swarmed with the happy memories you had of your family. Your mama helping you make your first pie, which your father ate in its entirety though you suspect it was hornedesly inedible. Your father's deep voice as he'd sing, sometimes rocking you to sleep or dancing with you through the house, it was your favorite song. Sitting atop your uncle's shoulders as he walked along the path to the village. Your brother's jokes and how he'd always sneak you an extra serving of cake.

Your family had been happy, your home full of laughter and light. Your parents had adored each other, and the love they had was the envy of all young girls searching for true love. He brought her flowers and danced with her even when there was no music. You loved your life, and you had taken that happiness for granted. It all came crashing down when your mother caught a fever and nothing could break it. Those were memories you refused to wallow in or entertain. They were locked away so far in the back of your mind that it would break your very being to bring them out now.

“I have pursued this foe since before the first sunrise bloodied the sky,” you were pulled from your thoughts to the heated conversation between Galadriel and Halbrand. “It would take more than your lifetime to even speak the names of those they've taken from me.”

You scoffed. Your body filled with irritation as you shook your head, their heads snapped to your direction. You felt anger fill your veins as you remembered everything you had lost. Not just your family, but your village and all those who lived in it. “Our loss isn't less significant than yours simply because our lifetime is shorter.”

Galadriel appraised you for a moment, her anger written on her face. “You have grown into the spitting image of your brother. It is a coincidence, is it not, that orcs burned your village and a wyrm destroyed your ship and yet you live.”

Halbrand chuckled in disbelief, “What are you saying? That she, of all people, commands an orc army and controls a wyrm. What do you think she is?”

Galadriel never took her eyes off you, she spoke two words in elvish that had been haunting you for 15 years. Whispered behind your back anywhere you roamed.

“What does that mean?”

“Elf slayer,” you said quietly. “Your king himself said I am not the sins of my father. That I was a child. That I was to be unpunished.”

“It is still his blood that flows through your veins,” Galadriel spoke coldly, “Does your companion know that your father was an insane cultist? He has a right to know of whom he travels with.”

Halbrand looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, “What is she talking about?”

Your lip trembled, and you caught it in between your teeth. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, but your breath was still shaky. “My father, uncle, and brother butchered a small village of elves as they slept. They were caught and executed for their crimes.”

Halbrand looked speechless. He turned his attention back to Galadriel as if looking for more answers.

“It was a blood ritual with the hopes of bringing back the enemy,” Galadriel looked to him. “To use elvish blood to resurrect Sauron,” her eyes turned to look at you, her accusation clear in them.

“ I do not wish to bring evil upon this world. I do not wish to subjugate my people's under the will of a tyrant. I have done nothing with my life besides try and repent for the atrocities committed by my family. For you to stand in accusation of me when your people, when your king, absolved me of any guilt. If you recall correctly, I was merely 8 and asleep in my bed when it happened.”

Galadriel opened her mouth in retort but closed it quickly as thunder cracked and storm clouds formed in the sky. This conversation wasn't over but there were more pressing matters at hand now.

SAURON with the Hammer of Fëanor RINGS OF POWER — 2.08: Shadow and Flame