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Adar knows how King and Court think of the Peredhel, like some bittersweet tale of fantasy, like the scion of some distant history told to sleepy little elflings by the fire - but do not fear, gwinig, for the beautiful prince was saved from his cruel captors to live in happiness forever after with us. They speak of him like he's something quaint. Doesn't he look so like Lúthien, so like his forefather Fingolfin? Isn’t he as dignified as the Princess Idril? Isn’t he wise like Elu Thingol? How sweet!
And so in the golden light of Lindon do they lie to themselves - for Elu Thingol was ruthless, unshakeable in his convictions even unto his death; yet the courtiers tut at Lord Elrond’s stubbornness. Idril Celebrindal was trapped, as hidden as her city as darkness crept up the walls and into her home; yet Lady Galadriel shrugs off her friend’s warnings. Fingolfin held Morgoth at bay for four hundred years, unfailing strength carved into his very bones; yet the King both censures his Herald for his forcefulness.
And Lúthien, ai! Tinúviel, wrathful, relentless, unearthly - when friends flinch from your gaze and Lords shift uneasily when you talk, when the wise cannot bring themselves to look on you for fear of what they will see, when Kings lie and placate and spin gossamer traps because they know you could unmake them - that is Lúthien.
- from the fic I’m writing about Elrond from Adar’s perspective. I'm on 100 words so far and idk how I'm going to make it to 5k... you're welcome to talk to me about it tho :)