#shadows of angmar

[amarthiels]

[loremastering]

thanks i guess

[lordofthesimps]

Narmeleth/Amarthiel living in Mordirith's head rent free, even in his last moments.

[laoness]

I have to share these stupid Shadow of War memes I made with y'all. I am too proud. I love this stupid idiot.

Also a bonus:

[cthonicdecembrist]

\\\ MASTER AND HIS SERVANT\\\ \\ BEST DARK DUO \\

[rohirric-hunter]

When Before the Shadow came out, I decided to throw Lamegil at it, my Elf Rune-keeper who prior to that just kind of Showed Up somewhere in the Lone-lands. (He's not along for all of Vol. I, but sort of pops in and out of the story because he's more or less doing his own thing that leads to the same place.) Things were working out well because one of the few things I knew about him at that point was "Celebrimbor fanboy" and "hasn't been home in decades, feels detached from his people (possible Incident?)" which meant I could give him a complex about basically everything that happens in Swanfleet. This Egfrith stuff will be fun to play with too, because as soon as he makes it to the Lone-lands he's going to find himself teaming up with Léonys Don't-Ask-About-My-Accent of Rohan which will of course be tons of fun, and then he's on Team Grey Company too, so he'll get to witness her whole entire miserable breakdown in that department. Lots of comedic value in all this prompting him to consider that maybe whatever as-of-yet-undetermined issue he has with Home is actually Not That Deep and then just, like, getting over it. IDK if I could pull a narratively satisfying story out of that but it might be worth it to try.

[a-little-hobbit-hole]

I've just finished the angmar questline and have some photos of a new outfit, so I've mashed it all together into one post!

I've been running throne off and on with my kin to try and get the cloak. The token dropped last time but someone else won it....so next time! Because of that, I had a lot of tokens to turn into crests to turn in for pieces of Faramir's Faithful armor (cosmetics), and used one to properly put together a spooky/black outfit for Ginni ☺️

Amarthiel has also, once again, T-posed at Mordrambor to assert dominance. It's really silly when she does it

I'm still sad about what happened to Tadan, but I can get why. I will keep the item with his name on it in remembrance, much as I do with my other alts and the rangers (and Laerdan and Narmaleth). I know some people may not like Laerdan, but I find the story sad. He just wanted to help his daughter, even if his choices were the epitome of Not Great

But Ginni has finished the Angmar Amarthiel questline and has moved on into Moria, with a new outfit! I'll post that one in the future ☺️ for now, here's this lovely outfit I will wear in all the spooky zones!

Head: Fancy Cap of the Expedition's Vanguard, black

Shoulder: Shoulder-guards oc Elessar's Scout, default (unique)

Back: Snow-strider's Mantle, black

Chest: Coat of Faramir's Faithful, black

Hand: Leather Bracers of the Learned Stag, grey

Feet: Reformed Rift-runner's Boots, black

Weapons: Dagger of the Vales

[gwynbleiddyn]

the grey company storyline in lotro is truly a masterpiece in setting up the long game so well that any further glimpses of them throughout the epic are all utterly devastating and take you 3-5 working days to recover

source: getting jumpscared by golodir's corpse in osgiliath

[saephrond]

On my way to be stabbed by The Witch-King. But not before getting stuck in a hole. "Nah ah."

[tolkienhorrorweek]

Tolkien Horror Week is back for another year of celebrating all the terrifying and unsettling bits of Tolkien's work! The event will run from October 26th to November 1st and accepts all types of fanworks. There is an AO3 collection for the event here.

Below are some suggested prompts for each day of the week. They are not mandatory; feel free to combine them or disregard them entirely.

Day 1: Angband, Utumno, & Tol-in-Gaurhoth | beautiful and yet horrible of shape | captives and thralls Day 2: Angmar & Minas Morgul | lit with a fell light | specters and wraiths Day 3: Mordor & the Dead Marshes | enmeshed in shadows | spells and enchantments Day 4: The Barrow-downs & the Old Forest | cold be hand and heart and bone | mists and mires Day 5: Mirkwood, Nan Elmoth, & Taur-nu-Fuin | hunted like wild beasts | beasts and monsters Day 6: Nan Dungortheb & the Paths of the Dead | phantoms of terror | webs and snares Day 7: Isengard, Moria, & Númenor | old and forgotten | rituals and sacrifices

Please mention @tolkienhorrorweek in the body of your post and tag #tolkienhorrorweek and #tolkienhorrorweek2025 in the first 10 tags. You may also submit a post. Please tag any content warnings/gore and place any NSFW content beneath a read more/link to AO3.

For more information, see the FAQ. If you have any questions, drop them in the ask box.

Art is by John Howe.

[teawithmadalice]

THE DRAGONS DAUGHTER

Prologue • Thranduil x daughter!OC

Summary: Thranduil lost his beloved daughter 500 years ago, on his search for the white gems of Lasgalen- his wife's final gift to him, he finds a young elf who reminds him of his lost daughter.

WORD COUNT: 2k

1 (YOU ARE HERE) • 2

The town square was filled with a hushed anticipation. The people, their faces marked by years of hardship and torment from the years of being terrorized by the fire breathing beast known by the name of Smaug, gathered together as the mayor, an elderly man with a deep, gravelly voice, stood before them.

"Good people of lake town, I stand before you today to speak of a matter both heavy and upsetting- one that has weighed on us all for what feels like generations although we know that is not so. Each season, as the winds begin to stir and change and the first frost that touches the earth melts away into spring dew drops, we face a choice, a duty. A sacrifice. This has taken the form of your hard earned gold, herds of sheep and piles of luxuries are sacrificed in an attempt to appease the beast"

He paused- his gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd, young and old all gathered.

"For almost 2 seasons now, we have lived under the shadow of the mountain. Above us, in the crags and cliffs, the great dragon Smaug watches over this land. I and the council have decided. One innocent soul, taken from among us, chosen by fate and tradition, to appease the dragon’s hunger."

"Regretfully, one newborn babe will be randomly selected by our council, and tonight, will be given as tribute to Smaug"

His voice grew softer now, tinged with sorrow- though it remained firm in its conviction.

"Now, I know that there are some among you who question this. Who feel in their hearts that such a practice is cruel, that the price is too steep. I see your faces, and I hear your whispers. I, too, have felt the weight of this duty, the pang of grief in offering a life so young. But we cannot allow this torment to continue plaguing our lovely town any longer."

"We must remember the fate of the dwarven kingdom of erebor and our sister-city of dale, those people died because they would not submit to the mighty dragon Smaug, we survived because we are lucky enough to have built our quaint town on water, and that the flame of Smaug cannot rage on for long before being distinguished into smoke and steam.

To the great people of Laketown, for our survival, we must do this."

•••••

It is written in the history books that the queen of the elven kingdom of mirkwood, wife of king thranduil and mother to the young elfling prince legolas died during the war on Angmar at the hands of orc barbarians.

The kingdom was said to have mourned the loss of a kind and benevolent queen that day, the realm fell silent, even the elves in neighbouring kingdoms mourned the beloved queen and sent commiserations to the widowed king and young elfling prince.

But what the history books leave out is that the queen of mirkwood, Calathiel, did not die alone. She was on the road to a neighbouring kingdom to seek refuge, with a newly born babe, a princess elfling who had fallen ill and needed treatment that the war-torn mirkwood could not provide.

The knowledge of the princess was unknown to those outside the royal family and those close to them, it was a great risk- a pregnant queen is a prime target for enemy attacks.

Calathiel and the small assortment of guards, (around four or five elves) that travelled with her were intercepted and slain only one day away from their destination- their bodies were left to the elements, ivy growing over the corpses in intricate patterns- a grotesque beauty.

it was three months before a group of mirkwood rangers recovered the bodies.

6 bodies.

Five corpses clothed in armour with weapons in hand and one body adorned in elven silk and silver jewelry, a woven crown laying on top of the silver locks of hair.

No young elfling babe was found among the fallen

•••••

"mama!" a young boy, with a mop of chocolate brown curls came crashing into his home in lake town.

"Aldren Forrinson where on earth have you been boy!" the screech of a woman with the same flurry of brown curls yelled back, putting her knitting needles down onto the stool beside her.

The small blanket was almost complete, a gift for her unborn babe she had carried in her womb for almost nine months, it would only be a few days until her waters broke and the bundle of joy would come wailing and kicking into the world.

"mama I found something! I was out walking in the woods- yes, I know you told me not to go too far from town- BUT! look..." the boy approached his mother, a bundle of soft blankets and wrappings of silk lay in his arms.

A soft gasp left the woman's lips as she peered down, a small pale face peered back with piercing blue eyes-

"give it here boy."

her nimble hands peered back at the many layers of cloth, short silver locks of hair had begun to sprout from the babes head, small pointed ears and a button nose- an elfling.

The elfling shivered, sweat beaded down her forehead, the warning signs of a fever- "listen to me here boy, go to master vere and tell him that the babe needs to be monitored, I can't keep an eye with my bump as big as it is now, " the woman leaned over to the pipe of finished knitted toys, clothes and blankets and took a soft woolen baby hat and placed it a top the babes head, covering the silver locks and pointed ears.

"there. Now off you go boy - shoo"

The sun was setting by the time the small boy got to the village doctor, bursting through the door and laying the babe on top of a table

"Master! babe- sick- fever" aldren panted, out of breath.

The old man stood from his chair, grey haired and wrinkled "oh, I was unaware your mother had given birth- where is she-?" the man turned, expecting to see the boy, but was met with mud trodden footprints made in haste. A sigh left his lips, turning to the babe and picking up the now sleeping infant.

WINTER, TA 2401, CLINIC LOG.

PATIENT: INFANT GIRL 'FORRISON'

DESCRIPTION: pale faced, smaller than the average babe, small scattered birthmark on the left shoulder , newly born.

The patient seems to be infected with a sweating sickness, from my evaluation there is not much that can be done, I have administered a sedative so the babe is not in pain- it is up to the patient to fight the sickness, let us pray she is strong

••••••••

A soft knock resounded on the Forrinson families front door.

The woman opened the door slightly, peeking through the crack- on the other side was an extremely recognisable face.

"Mayor," she spoke, opening the door fully "what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mrs Forrinson, I am not sure if you've heard the announcement I made yesterday in the town centre."

A laugh left her lips at the thought "Of course I've heard, word travels fast and this is a small town after all sire! it's the most interesting thing that's happened here in a long while- it's awful that it has come to this, but I understand why you've decided to take this approach- I hope it works and that whomever the poor child is, that the sacrifice is worthwhile."

"I'm glad you think that Mrs Forrinson. Unfortunately, this is why I'm here talking to you today." his voice was soft, almost remorseful. An unsettling feeling wormed it's way into the pit of the woman's stomach.

"I ventured down to Master Veres clinic to look at the patients logs of all infants born in the last sixth months, in total there were 22"

A deep sigh left the man's lips. "I regret to inform you that your newborn girl has been chosen to do the honourable duty as a forfeit to Smaug- I understand how heartbreaking this must be but i-"

Her pulse was fast. Eyes darting around. She had not yet given birth, but her child was chosen to be sacrificed. Did he think the young elfling was hers? what should she do? her thoughts ran a mile a minute- the elfling was abandoned, has no family that would mourn her- surely she should be the one to be sacrificed, right?

"Mrs Forrinson... Hello Mrs Forrinson are you listening?" the deep voice of the older man snapped the woman out of her thoughts.

"Yes- i- apologies, this is a lot to take in..."

"I understand, your child is still at the clinic, yes? maybe you and your family should go and spend some time with her"

"yes... I-I think we will. Thank you sire."

•••••••

The trek to the caves mouth was difficult, the sharp rocks of the winding pathways cut into the bottom of the townsfolk feet through the soles of their boots- the wind was howling, bitter and cruel, whistling mockingly at them.

Beneath the large cocoon of blankets bundled in Mrs Forrinson's arms, the young elfling was slumbering, blissfully unaware of how each step taken was one step closer to a tragic fate of fire and ash.

The mountain began to shake, rumbling ferociously. "Smaug grows near, be careful!" one of the elders spoke, before he could continue a deep bellowing voice echoed from the opening of the cave

"WHAT HAVE YOU INSOLENT MORTALS BROUGHT ME NOW... A PITIFUL SOME OF GOLD PERHAPS? MAYBE SOME SHEEP TO SATIATE MY APPETITE?"

The blackening void of the cave was broken by two bright orange glowing eyes, emitting a deep growl as they slowly approached closer and closer to the small entourage of townsfolk.

"...NO... IT CANNOT BE TREASURE OR FOOD, I CANNOT SMELL THE GOLD ORE OR THE THUMPING HEARTS OF OBLIVIOUS SHEEP~ YOU'VE BOUGHT ME... SOMETHING... NEW."

"Smaug. We know you are a creature of wrath, a force of nature, and we know the land has trembled beneath your fury. The sky grows dark when you take to the air, and no beast or man dares to challenge your flame. But we are not your enemies—we seek only to survive, to live in peace with the land you claim as your own.

In our desperation, we have come to offer the one thing we hold most precious, the only way we know to ask for your mercy: a child of our own blood, a newborn babe born only a few moons ago. "

He motions to Mrs Forrinson, who cradles a newborn in her arms, unaware of the fact that the babe is not her own, but an abandoned elfling left on the edge of a nearby forest

"We offer this child, her life, in the hope that her innocence might sway your heart. Her cries are pure, her laughter untainted. She is the future of our village- the last hope we have to please you and, in turn, save our people from the shadow of death you cast upon us.

We do not ask for your forgiveness, only that you take this gift and spare us the destruction we fear. We understand the value of a life-of any life-and it is with the deepest sorrow that we present this offering, knowing full well the price it demands.

May you find in this small child something worthy of your grace.

We beg of you... let it be enough."

The older man motions to Mrs Forrinson, encouraging her to step forward and place the bundle of blankets and knitted wear at the mouth of the cave- this child was not her own, but a strong feeling of sorrow and grief ran throughout her body, solemn tears silently dripping down her face.

"I am so sorry little one." she whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto the young elves forehead, patting her hat covered head- one she kept on to conceal the pointed elven ears and the babes true nature.

"YOU MORTALS NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME. LEAVE. YOUR OFFERING IS ACCEPTED."

★★★★★

OMG the prologue is done! I'm scared I rushed the ending but oh well- not proofread!

like this? join my TAGLIST to be reminded of new episodes, blurbs and ficlets in the series <3

next chapter

[loremastering]

After all, the only rule of travel is, Don’t come back the way you went. Come a new way.

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry (via merulae)

[lordofthesimps]

I will never, EVER, forgive LOTRO developers for killing off Amarthiel/Narmaleth in Volume I.

MY BABY GURL DESERVED THE WORLD AND A LONGER REDEMPTION ARC

[getooine]

Éowyn and the Witch King • Intaglio Print

Thumbnail -> ink drawing -> etched plate -> first proof print

I’ve been working on an intaglio print for my idea of Éowyn’s battle with the Witch King for a few weeks now, and yesterday I finally got my first proof print !

For my first intaglio illustration I’m quite pleased with the outcome, hopefully my next print I can refine it even more.

I wanted a medieval feel for this illustration, and I tried to create a somewhat original look for Angmar- it was mostly important to me that Éowyn shone in the foreground as a pale light against the shadow of the enemy.

[imladrisweek]

Here are the prompts for Imladris Week! You can find them written out below - feel free to let them inspire you, or do your own thing!

Day 1: Imladris in the Second Age

Imladris was founded in the Second Age after the Fall of Eregion, as a refuge from Sauron and an Elven stronghold in Eriador. What were those first years like, during the Siege and after? How did the people of Lindon and the refugees of Eregion come together to build their new home? What was discussed at that first meeting of the White Council? And how did life in Imladris continue during the remainder of that Age, up until the Last Alliance?

Founding and Siege of Imladris | Refugees and Survivors of Eregion | First White Council | Last Alliance

Day 2: Imladris in the Third Age

Throughout the Third Age Imladris stood as one of the last seats of Elvish strength east of the Sea. A refuge and sanctuary, a place of counsel and lore, of rest for the weary and shelter for the oppressed – a timeless haven with a long and eventful history.

Aftermath of the Last Alliance | Last Homely House | Fostering of Isildur’s Heirs |  War with Angmar | The Dúnedain | Council of Elrond and War of the Ring | Departure of Elrond

Day 3: Imladris in the Fourth Age and Beyond

It is said that after the departure of Elrond, his sons Elladan and Elrohir remained in Imladris for a time, and that Celeborn dwelt there with them until it was at last abandoned. What were those last years like for the last inhabitants of Imladris? And what became of it afterwards? Could it still be standing today?

Imladris in the 4th Age | Imladris Abandoned | Later Ages | Imladris throughout History and in Modern Times

Day 4: Imladris as a Place

A hidden valley amidst the foothills of the Misty Mountains – Imladris must be a beautiful place, judging by its real-world inspiration, Lauterbrunnen. Tell us of the animals that live there, the plants and fungi that grow in the valley and on the mountainsides, of the Bruinen river that flows through the valley, and of course of the houses and buildings, bridges and arches, gardens and courtyards that make up the Last Homely House!

Architecture and Buildings | Nature | Animal and Plant Life | The Bruinen

Day 5: Culture of Imladris

A place with a history as long and inhabitants as diverse as Imladris must have a rich and interesting culture – what is it like to live there, or to be a guest in Elrond’s halls? What traditions have emerged over the centuries, what cultures have influenced Imladris’ customs? What knowledge and legends of Ages past are gathered there? And what alliances and conflicts with the other realms and people of Middle-Earth have emerged over time?

Festivals and Traditions | Hospitality and Guests | Knowledge and Lore | Relations with other Realms

Day 6: The People of Imladris

Of course a house is nothing without the people that live there. We know and love Elrond, Lord and founder of Imladris, his family and all those background characters that fandom has lifted from the shadows, but certainly the Last Homely House has space for more. On this day all inhabitants of Imladris have a chance to shine; from high Lord over fan-favourite counsellor to your own darling OCs.

Elrond and his Family | Background Characters: Erestor, Glorfindel, Lindir and Others | Original Characters

Day 7: Free Space

Imladris, with its millennia of history and plenty of interesting inhabitants, contains so much more than one week of prompts could ever encompass. What do you love most about Elrond’s hidden Valley? What thoughts, headcanons and wild ideas do you harbour of the Last Homely House?

The Magic of Vilya | Passage of Time | Alternate Universes | Anything and everything you can think of!

[thegreatzombieartisan]

Why Legolas was Wrong to Despair — But Eowyn Too

At Helm’s Deep, Legolas warns Aragorn that everyone there will die to which he responds, “Then I shall die as one of them!”

But why exactly was Legolas wrong? If you said because panicking about how everyone will die is an unhelpful sentiment before battle, you aren’t wrong.

However, in the Catholic moral cosmology that underpins legendarium, despair also doubles as a theological term.

Despair is not mere sadness or gloom but hopelessness. Despair also breeds resentment and pessimism, à la Legolas’s outburst. Because the Elves and Rohirrim know The One exists, despair denies His good, just, and merciful nature; and that death is not the end, but another path. Despair is therefore not merely unhelpful — it is irrational and prideful.

Despair is also linked to presumption — that we rely only on our own capacities, and have no need for support. Tolkien believed, being so fallible, we need divine mercy and grace. And so Legolas’s despair presumes that the Children have full control over who lives and dies — or any desired outcome including the defeat of Sauron.

The sole task for our heroes is not martial skill but achieving spiritual victory which Providence rewards with worldly victory

Eowyn further manifests the pitfalls of despair. Having lost hope that Men could defeat Sauron; worn down by long-term caregiving and death, she yields to hopelessness and seeks what she believes will give her short life meaning: a glorious warrior’s death.

But when the Witch-King of Angmar threatens Theoden, Eowyn abandons despair and pursuit of glory to lay down her life for her uncle. It is the ultimate act of Christian love which is self-sacrificial.

Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.

The way light is described, it’s as if she bears a halo. It is evident Providence aids Eowyn and Merry to defeat of the Witch-King because “sunrise” symbolizes divine intervention (almost certainly Varda, Queen of the Skies and keeper of the pure light of Illuvatar).

(Regrettably, in the RtoK film, this divine intercession, and other instances, was primarily subverted for secular sensibilities. But also to refit Eowyn with a noncanonical yet acceptable Girlboss angle, since excluding Glorfindel’s prophecy makes her defeat of the Witch-King somewhat gendered)