GloriaComandini/QueEnFan_Corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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TITLE AUTHOR DATE PUBLISHED DATE UPDATED N° CHAPTERS N° WORDS N° COMMENTS N° KUDOS N° BOOKMARKS N° HITS
The Blossoming Trees of Aman feanorionrage 2024-02-03 2024-06-07 5/? 9,763 3 6 2 167

RATING WARNINGS FANDOMS
Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

RELATIONSHIPS CHARACTERS ADDITIONAL TAGS
Elrohir (Tolkien)/Original Male Character(s), Elladan (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s) Elrohir (Tolkien), Elladan, Celebrían (Tolkien), Mentions of Silmarillion Characters, Original Elf Character(s), House of Findis First Meetings, Sailing To Valinor, Drinking, Quenya, Party, Flirting, Drunken Flirting, First Kiss, Sexual Tension, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Smut, NSFW, Dry Humping, Boys Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resolved Sexual Tension, Anal Play, Frottage, Orgasm, Finally Elrohir gets some action, Dirty Talk

SUMMARY
After waiting to find the right life partner in Middle Earth, and with no luck, Elrohir felt he would remain alone. However, after he and Elladan sailed into the west, his fortunes began to change.

Self-indulgent fic for Elrohir. He's been one of my muses for over 20 years and for the most part has sadly been neglected, so I decided he deserves to be a little selfish and attend to his own needs.

CHAPTER 1 TITLE
Under the Honeysuckle

CHAPTER 1 INITIAL NOTES
References:
Six feet = 183cm
Seven feet = 213cm


CHAPTER 1
"Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielwo," the tall, graceful, and immaculately dressed man said, offering a warm smile and a polite nod of his head in respect; a red wine glass clutched in one hand.

"Uh, Alta... uh, Ellen seela lúmenn..." Lord Elrohir tried to respond as he stood now in company in the lamp-lit gardens of the Citadel of Tirion, as the merry party continued within the halls a little way off. But the Quenya dialect that was spoken to him was not one he was used to, and mentally he admonished himself for reading and writing more Ñoldorin Quenya than he had spoken.

The man frowned briefly in confusion then realised, in part, of whom perhaps he was speaking to. "Oh, my apologies," he said, now switching to the more familiar Exilic Quenya spoken within Middle Earth. "Can you understand me better now?" he asked softly with a low, honeyed voice, trying not to seem rude.

"I can, thank you..." Elrohir replied politely, draining the last of the wine from his own glass, and giving the other a chance to introduce himself.

"Lord Artelwë, of the House of Findis," he said, closing his eyes for a brief moment, feeling he had made a slight fool of himself. "Well, distant relation of the House of Findis. And yourself, Lord..." he continued presumptively, subtly casting a glance over the dark-haired man's attire and judging that he must be of noble birth.

"Lord Elrohir, of the House of Elrond. Perhaps you have met my twin brother, Lord Elladan?"

"I cannot say I have, but my sincere apologies, I have heard Lord Elrond’s name, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting him." Lord Artelwë said, intrigued by Lord Elrohir, but not wishing to bombard him with questions. "Have you been long within Aman?"

Elrohir smiled and glanced at his empty glass. "I have not, Lord. This celebration is held for myself and my brother. Our family is now reunited, and I do not think that any more ships will sail from the East."

Artelwë's eyes widened. "Oh! Such a fool I am! You are one of the guests of honour tonight! I had heard word of a ship, but did not know that it was yourself and your kin! The house is merry these days and High King Arafinwë is glad, I hear," he said, trying to piece together who Lord Elrohir was, and why the royal house was hosting the party. A fool, a fool truly for being so wrapped up in his work and not learning of the noble Lords and Ladies who came from different lands.

"His Majesty is my mother's kin," Elrohir said, noting that Quenya names were obviously more common here, and trying his best not to sound boastful. "Lady Artanis is my grandmother, and we are glad of heart to see our family once more.”

Artelwë seemed a little stunned. Artanis, and his father, Lord Elrond? The names were slowly beginning to slot together, and so Lord Elrohir was his own distantly related kin.

"That, My Lord, is a heritage to be proud of; Lady Artanis is legendary in Aman. So you are a descendant of High King Ñoldóran, as am I, through my maternal line," he said and smiled, crossing his arms, now feeling in familiar company, "In fact, King Ñoldóran is my third great-grandfather."

Elrohir's eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed, and he nodded. "Indeed, King Ñoldóran is my twice great-grandfather on my mother's line, but he is also my fourth great-grandfather on my father's side, through King Ñolofinwë, King Turukáno, Princess Itarillë, and Eärendil the Mariner, my father's sire."

Artelwë didn't mean to gawp at Lord Elrohir, but he had yet to meet someone with so many distinguished and legendary people to claim as ancestors.

"And through my father's mother, I can claim King Dior, Beren and Lúthien, and King Elwë," Elrohir grinned, finding now some small amusement in the game they were playing.

Artelwë looked up at the stars to where Eärendil and Elwing sailed, then back down to Elrohir. How was it then that so little was known in Aman about the House of Elrond? Had they been so blind to the happenings of Middle Earth? It was certain that by any means Elrohir had far more claim to royalty than he. "My Lord," he said, exhaling in a show of amazement. "I am sure your wife is very happy. There are names you have mentioned that are renowned for their bravery, their honour, their unyielding efforts against Our Greatest Foe... and their beauty," he added, sipping quickly from his glass.

Elrohir smiled a little and shook his head politely. "Alas, I am unwed. My brother, I expect, will be wed soon though. His betrothed has been in Aman for some time, and they are now reunited."

"That is glad news. I do expect that you will become very popular at the wedding, while your brother is with his new wife, the ladies will look then towards his eligible brother." Artelwë said, smirking a little.

"Ah," Elrohir grinned and looked out over the garden, speaking slowly for emphasis. "I would much prefer the attention of the Lords," he said and looked back to Artelwë pointedly.

Lord Artelwë raised an eyebrow and cradled his glass into his chest, rubbing a thumb across the rim. He understood exactly what Lord Elrohir meant, and he didn't try to hide the slow, dragging gaze as he looked Elrohir up and down. Elrohir was shorter than himself, but by no means short as they were both far past six feet tall, Artelwë being closer to seven feet, and Elrohir wore a mixture of handsome blues, greys, and silvers that complimented his grey eyes which were partly concealed by long lashes, and his attire made his dark hair glisten in the moonlight.

"Well, My Lord," Artelwë said, gesturing to Elrohir to lift his glass so that he may pour wine from his own, and share a drink, "Perhaps you have already gained the attention of some."

Elrohir smirked wily, and had himself judged Lord Artelwë in return, seeing before him a tall, slender Lord with a mane of thick, blond hair, dressed in silver and adorned with an abundance of shining, golden trim and jewels. He raised the partly filled glass in a silent toast and took a sip of the full-bodied wine within, while Artelwë did the same in return, gazing deep into Elrohir's eyes as they both drank.

"Would you care to find somewhere a little more, out of the way, so we may converse more?" Artelwë said, glancing back at the open doors that led into the party not a hundred feet away.

"If you may wait one moment," Elrohir said in return, and with a smile he strode back toward the party. Artelwë allowed himself a brief second of lechery and gazed at Elrohir's form, particularly his long legs and his behind, as he walked away. Taking a deep inhale, he turned back to the garden and quickly drained his glass. Not often did one find another of noble birth who also carried an interest of the same gender, and Artelwë wasn't going to allow such an opportunity to pass. Ideas and ruminations rolled about in his mind, and the wine certainly did not help matters, but Artelwë had been alone long enough, and he had quietly desired the company of another. Even if perhaps a conversation was all there was to be had, it would indeed lift his spirits.

Not three minutes had passed when Elrohir returned and bid Artelwë to follow him, as he expertly carried his still-empty glass and two bottles of wine.

"If your Lordship aims left, there is a small pergola with benches underneath, deeper within the gardens where we may speak privately," Artelwë said, breathing the words into Elrohir's ear.

Elrohir shivered a little and closed his eyes briefly, but followed the directions and truly found there a small candle-lit wooden structure beyond lavender bushes, where benches scattered with furs and cushions sat underneath creeping vines of fragrant honeysuckle. Turning to Artelwë, Elrohir liberally filled his glass, then spread himself out across one of the benches, much to the amusement of his companion, who began to wonder if Elrohir was always so relaxed, or if he had perhaps drunk one too many glasses of wine. Taking a seat and lounging back, though not so much as the other, he sipped from his own glass and wondered out loud. "Elrohir? Is that a Quenya name, My Lord?"

Elrohir nodded, swallowing a large mouthful of wine. "It is Sindarin, but it is similar to Quenya, I suppose. Oh!" he said, coming to a realisation. "I only have one name; it isn't custom in Middle-Earth to adopt many names as it is with the High Eldar of Aman. But those closer to me do call me 'Ro'."

Artelwë smiled fondly, it was a simple nickname, and one could argue crude connotations of a rider, but Artelwë remained polite, and the name was befitting nonetheless. "I am also Telyalindo... or Telyo, derived from Artelwë, as my family call me," he said.

"I can understand why you were named Telyalindo." Elrohir said flirtatiously and raised his glass to his lips to hide his face, but did not sip. "Telyo is pleasant though, if I am deemed enough of a friend to call you by such a name?"

Artelwë chewed the inside of his bottom lip and gazed at Elrohir for a moment, trying to make his mind up. "Lord Elrohir, are you drunk?" he said teasingly.

"I most certainly am not!" he protested jovially, "This wine is weak, and besides it is only my fourth glass. If you could have tried wine from Eryn Lasgalen, then you would know only two or three glasses for the first time before you awoke in the morning with no memory of the night previous."

"And that was a common occurrence?" Artelwë said smiling but feeling a strange pang of jealousy.

"Thankfully no, Telyo." Elrohir said, shifting his position and moving his face closer to his companion as to bait him. "Or are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No, although there are other things I would try to do with you," Artelwë said a little too lasciviously before he thought about the words that came from his mouth.

The tension between the pair was excruciating, and Elrohir lingered close by, drawing his gaze from Artelwë's eyes to his lips, which parted slightly as he let out a small sigh. Finding the floor beneath him without taking his sight off Artelwë's pretty mouth, Elrohir placed his glass down and placed on those lips a lingering kiss. Both of their eyes slipped closed as the kiss deepened and with bent forefinger and thumb, Artelwë gently held Elrohir's chin, to which Elrohir elicited a small groan. The desperate noise from deep within Elrohir's chest inflamed within Artelwë his own sense of craving, and the kiss became stimulated and hurried as they huffed and licked each other's wanting lips.


CHAPTER 1 FINAL NOTES
Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielwo - [Vanyarin Quenya, used by elves of valinor]: A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

TITLE AUTHOR DATE PUBLISHED DATE UPDATED N° CHAPTERS N° WORDS N° COMMENTS N° KUDOS N° BOOKMARKS N° HITS

The Blossoming Trees of Aman feanorionrage 2024-02-03 2024-06-07 5/? 9,763 3 6 2 167

RATING WARNINGS FANDOMS

Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

RELATIONSHIPS CHARACTERS ADDITIONAL TAGS

Elrohir (Tolkien)/Original Male Character(s), Elladan (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s) Elrohir (Tolkien), Elladan, Celebrían (Tolkien), Mentions of Silmarillion Characters, Original Elf Character(s), House of Findis First Meetings, Sailing To Valinor, Drinking, Quenya, Party, Flirting, Drunken Flirting, First Kiss, Sexual Tension, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Smut, NSFW, Dry Humping, Boys Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resolved Sexual Tension, Anal Play, Frottage, Orgasm, Finally Elrohir gets some action, Dirty Talk

SUMMARY

After waiting to find the right life partner in Middle Earth, and with no luck, Elrohir felt he would remain alone. However, after he and Elladan sailed into the west, his fortunes began to change.

Self-indulgent fic for Elrohir. He's been one of my muses for over 20 years and for the most part has sadly been neglected, so I decided he deserves to be a little selfish and attend to his own needs.

CHAPTER 1 TITLE

Under the Honeysuckle

CHAPTER 1 INITIAL NOTES

References:

Six feet = 183cm

Seven feet = 213cm

CHAPTER 1

"Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielwo," the tall, graceful, and immaculately dressed man said, offering a warm smile and a polite nod of his head in respect; a red wine glass clutched in one hand.

"Uh, Alta... uh, Ellen seela lúmenn..." Lord Elrohir tried to respond as he stood now in company in the lamp-lit gardens of the Citadel of Tirion, as the merry party continued within the halls a little way off. But the Quenya dialect that was spoken to him was not one he was used to, and mentally he admonished himself for reading and writing more Ñoldorin Quenya than he had spoken.

The man frowned briefly in confusion then realised, in part, of whom perhaps he was speaking to. "Oh, my apologies," he said, now switching to the more familiar Exilic Quenya spoken within Middle Earth. "Can you understand me better now?" he asked softly with a low, honeyed voice, trying not to seem rude.

"I can, thank you..." Elrohir replied politely, draining the last of the wine from his own glass, and giving the other a chance to introduce himself.

"Lord Artelwë, of the House of Findis," he said, closing his eyes for a brief moment, feeling he had made a slight fool of himself. "Well, distant relation of the House of Findis. And yourself, Lord..." he continued presumptively, subtly casting a glance over the dark-haired man's attire and judging that he must be of noble birth.

"Lord Elrohir, of the House of Elrond. Perhaps you have met my twin brother, Lord Elladan?"

"I cannot say I have, but my sincere apologies, I have heard Lord Elrond’s name, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting him." Lord Artelwë said, intrigued by Lord Elrohir, but not wishing to bombard him with questions. "Have you been long within Aman?"

Elrohir smiled and glanced at his empty glass. "I have not, Lord. This celebration is held for myself and my brother. Our family is now reunited, and I do not think that any more ships will sail from the East."

Artelwë's eyes widened. "Oh! Such a fool I am! You are one of the guests of honour tonight! I had heard word of a ship, but did not know that it was yourself and your kin! The house is merry these days and High King Arafinwë is glad, I hear," he said, trying to piece together who Lord Elrohir was, and why the royal house was hosting the party. A fool, a fool truly for being so wrapped up in his work and not learning of the noble Lords and Ladies who came from different lands.

"His Majesty is my mother's kin," Elrohir said, noting that Quenya names were obviously more common here, and trying his best not to sound boastful. "Lady Artanis is my grandmother, and we are glad of heart to see our family once more.”

Artelwë seemed a little stunned. Artanis, and his father, Lord Elrond? The names were slowly beginning to slot together, and so Lord Elrohir was his own distantly related kin.

"That, My Lord, is a heritage to be proud of; Lady Artanis is legendary in Aman. So you are a descendant of High King Ñoldóran, as am I, through my maternal line," he said and smiled, crossing his arms, now feeling in familiar company, "In fact, King Ñoldóran is my third great-grandfather."

Elrohir's eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed, and he nodded. "Indeed, King Ñoldóran is my twice great-grandfather on my mother's line, but he is also my fourth great-grandfather on my father's side, through King Ñolofinwë, King Turukáno, Princess Itarillë, and Eärendil the Mariner, my father's sire."

Artelwë didn't mean to gawp at Lord Elrohir, but he had yet to meet someone with so many distinguished and legendary people to claim as ancestors.

"And through my father's mother, I can claim King Dior, Beren and Lúthien, and King Elwë," Elrohir grinned, finding now some small amusement in the game they were playing.

Artelwë looked up at the stars to where Eärendil and Elwing sailed, then back down to Elrohir. How was it then that so little was known in Aman about the House of Elrond? Had they been so blind to the happenings of Middle Earth? It was certain that by any means Elrohir had far more claim to royalty than he. "My Lord," he said, exhaling in a show of amazement. "I am sure your wife is very happy. There are names you have mentioned that are renowned for their bravery, their honour, their unyielding efforts against Our Greatest Foe... and their beauty," he added, sipping quickly from his glass.

Elrohir smiled a little and shook his head politely. "Alas, I am unwed. My brother, I expect, will be wed soon though. His betrothed has been in Aman for some time, and they are now reunited."

"That is glad news. I do expect that you will become very popular at the wedding, while your brother is with his new wife, the ladies will look then towards his eligible brother." Artelwë said, smirking a little.

"Ah," Elrohir grinned and looked out over the garden, speaking slowly for emphasis. "I would much prefer the attention of the Lords," he said and looked back to Artelwë pointedly.

Lord Artelwë raised an eyebrow and cradled his glass into his chest, rubbing a thumb across the rim. He understood exactly what Lord Elrohir meant, and he didn't try to hide the slow, dragging gaze as he looked Elrohir up and down. Elrohir was shorter than himself, but by no means short as they were both far past six feet tall, Artelwë being closer to seven feet, and Elrohir wore a mixture of handsome blues, greys, and silvers that complimented his grey eyes which were partly concealed by long lashes, and his attire made his dark hair glisten in the moonlight.

"Well, My Lord," Artelwë said, gesturing to Elrohir to lift his glass so that he may pour wine from his own, and share a drink, "Perhaps you have already gained the attention of some."

Elrohir smirked wily, and had himself judged Lord Artelwë in return, seeing before him a tall, slender Lord with a mane of thick, blond hair, dressed in silver and adorned with an abundance of shining, golden trim and jewels. He raised the partly filled glass in a silent toast and took a sip of the full-bodied wine within, while Artelwë did the same in return, gazing deep into Elrohir's eyes as they both drank.

"Would you care to find somewhere a little more, out of the way, so we may converse more?" Artelwë said, glancing back at the open doors that led into the party not a hundred feet away.

"If you may wait one moment," Elrohir said in return, and with a smile he strode back toward the party. Artelwë allowed himself a brief second of lechery and gazed at Elrohir's form, particularly his long legs and his behind, as he walked away. Taking a deep inhale, he turned back to the garden and quickly drained his glass. Not often did one find another of noble birth who also carried an interest of the same gender, and Artelwë wasn't going to allow such an opportunity to pass. Ideas and ruminations rolled about in his mind, and the wine certainly did not help matters, but Artelwë had been alone long enough, and he had quietly desired the company of another. Even if perhaps a conversation was all there was to be had, it would indeed lift his spirits.

Not three minutes had passed when Elrohir returned and bid Artelwë to follow him, as he expertly carried his still-empty glass and two bottles of wine.

"If your Lordship aims left, there is a small pergola with benches underneath, deeper within the gardens where we may speak privately," Artelwë said, breathing the words into Elrohir's ear.

Elrohir shivered a little and closed his eyes briefly, but followed the directions and truly found there a small candle-lit wooden structure beyond lavender bushes, where benches scattered with furs and cushions sat underneath creeping vines of fragrant honeysuckle. Turning to Artelwë, Elrohir liberally filled his glass, then spread himself out across one of the benches, much to the amusement of his companion, who began to wonder if Elrohir was always so relaxed, or if he had perhaps drunk one too many glasses of wine. Taking a seat and lounging back, though not so much as the other, he sipped from his own glass and wondered out loud. "Elrohir? Is that a Quenya name, My Lord?"

Elrohir nodded, swallowing a large mouthful of wine. "It is Sindarin, but it is similar to Quenya, I suppose. Oh!" he said, coming to a realisation. "I only have one name; it isn't custom in Middle-Earth to adopt many names as it is with the High Eldar of Aman. But those closer to me do call me 'Ro'."

Artelwë smiled fondly, it was a simple nickname, and one could argue crude connotations of a rider, but Artelwë remained polite, and the name was befitting nonetheless. "I am also Telyalindo... or Telyo, derived from Artelwë, as my family call me," he said.

"I can understand why you were named Telyalindo." Elrohir said flirtatiously and raised his glass to his lips to hide his face, but did not sip. "Telyo is pleasant though, if I am deemed enough of a friend to call you by such a name?"

Artelwë chewed the inside of his bottom lip and gazed at Elrohir for a moment, trying to make his mind up. "Lord Elrohir, are you drunk?" he said teasingly.

"I most certainly am not!" he protested jovially, "This wine is weak, and besides it is only my fourth glass. If you could have tried wine from Eryn Lasgalen, then you would know only two or three glasses for the first time before you awoke in the morning with no memory of the night previous."

"And that was a common occurrence?" Artelwë said smiling but feeling a strange pang of jealousy.

"Thankfully no, Telyo." Elrohir said, shifting his position and moving his face closer to his companion as to bait him. "Or are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No, although there are other things I would try to do with you," Artelwë said a little too lasciviously before he thought about the words that came from his mouth.

The tension between the pair was excruciating, and Elrohir lingered close by, drawing his gaze from Artelwë's eyes to his lips, which parted slightly as he let out a small sigh. Finding the floor beneath him without taking his sight off Artelwë's pretty mouth, Elrohir placed his glass down and placed on those lips a lingering kiss. Both of their eyes slipped closed as the kiss deepened and with bent forefinger and thumb, Artelwë gently held Elrohir's chin, to which Elrohir elicited a small groan. The desperate noise from deep within Elrohir's chest inflamed within Artelwë his own sense of craving, and the kiss became stimulated and hurried as they huffed and licked each other's wanting lips.

CHAPTER 1 FINAL NOTES

Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielwo - [Vanyarin Quenya, used by elves of valinor]: A star shines on the hour of our meeting.