finnritter

[finnritter]

Reading the Silmarillion, the elves seem so active and full of life.They’re always doing things. When you get to the Lord of the Rings, they just seem so tired. Elrond holds a meeting and then he’s out. Galadriel has some guests stay with her. They’re so done. They just wanna leave.

[finnritter]

Finrod crossing the Helcaraxë

Fighting a mild form of art block with something quick and dirty, aka Findarato crossing the ice (He hasn’t got a hat or a hood, I hear you cry. You would be right, please suspend your disbelief for the sake of DRAMA and hair snapping in the wind.

The crossing is a theme that I find deeply interesting, and I hadn’t painted Finrod before, so here we go <:

Hope you like it (:

[finnritter]

Guys, guys, look at the incredible art I was allowed to write a fic for over the course of this year's TRSB!! It's such a lovely piece and writing for it was so much fun <3

TRSB23 #26 Memory/ Our eyes meet

My second trsb piece of the year (I think it turned out well) @tolkienrsb

Fic link incoming (can't wait to get my grubby mits on it) ->

Prompt: Elrohir's memory of his beloved mentor no longer matches reality, even though it'll be decades still before he'll be an adult. I'd like both moments in the art somehow incorporated into the story, but if that's difficult, one is enough. Hit me in the feels please.

[finnritter]

Galadriel: I give you the light of Earendil our most beloved star

Feanor shouting from the Void:

[finnritter]

Hi! I love your work :). Would you be interested in drawing the Nolofinweans hoola-hooping? Since you're looking for things to draw? Thanks!

I was very excited to draw this one!

I think Argon and Aredhel would be great at hula hooping, Fingon isn't a natural but he has enough determination and spite that he eventually figures it out, and Turgon just. he simply would not.

Bonus: his kids probably have no idea but Nolofinwe is secretly an expert on hula hooping

I hope you enjoyed these silly drawings as much as I did!

[finnritter]

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

[finnritter]

every time i google something tolkien related i have to scroll

[finnritter]

[finnritter]

And when again thirty years had passed, Turgon son of Fingolfin left Nevrast where he dwelt and sought out Finrod his friend upon the isle of Tol Sirion, and they journeyed southward along the river, being weary for a while of the northern mountains... Of the Return of the Noldor, The Silmarillion. for @thelordofgifs. ao3 link

They had been walking for twelve days when they came upon the mere.

The river Sirion was alive everywhere, but here in this maze of lakes and fens most of all. Shining fish danced through its clear waters, and its banks were thick with a blanket of reeds and grasses. The air around it was heavy with the thrumming of dragonflies. It sung too with the voices of so many water-spirits, those Maiar who did not walk in the world that they lived in but were one with it. Finrod who had come of age in the land of the gods was not unfamiliar with such places, but he had not yet come across a place so clearly suffused with life in all its forms in this Middle Earth. It was not so long ago that he had traversed the lifeless Ice, and the memory of its cold cruelty was fresh in his mind.

Speaking of alive...

Finrod watched Turgon wash up by the banks as he stoked the fire and cleared away the remains of their meal- two great silver fish from the river stuffed with wild onion and garlic, and some of the hard bread and cheese that Finrod kept in his pack - and considered his oldest friend.

Turgon looked, if not quite himself, then better than Finrod could remember him having looked for a long time. Though Finrod had missed him at the Feast of Reuniting, the withdrawal to Nevrast had evidently been good for him; and perhaps he could credit himself that their little journey along the river had helped his friend too. His body, starved for so long, had at last begun to fill out; and he smiled more, if usually briefly. He smiled the most when he spoke of his daughter.

The young princess too was beginning to blossom amid the white stone of Vinyamar, enough that she had taken on her father's duties in his absence. Finrod thought that he would like to see her again- she had still been a girl when he saw her last, despite her far-sight and however old she appeared in spirit. He had not intended for so much time to pass without a visit - but somehow decades had slipped by without his notice.

By the time Finrod had tidied away, Turgon was almost finished bathing. He clambered onto the grass, water running in rivulets down his arms, reached for his pack and began to towel himself off. As Finrod began undressing to bathe himself, Turgon was busy oiling his double-stranded twists. He still refused to grow them past chin length - a mark of mourning, he said. His hands moved deftly through his braids, even with two fingers lost to frostbite.

"Are you going to stop dreaming and get into the water anytime soon?" Turgon grinned, breaking Finrod from his thoughts. Finrod nodded in response and shucked off his tunic and trousers.

Standing in the mere, which shone strangely pink as the setting sun relected in the ripples, Finrod could feel the spirits of the River Sirion even closer. As he splashed his face and rubbed soapwort behind his ears, he had the feeling that he was being watched by an unseen presence - but it hardly seemed frightening. Rather, it felt as though whatever was sharing this small part of the world with the two of them was simply gently curious about these new visitors.

"It's strange, isn't it," Turgon said, giving voice to Finrod's thoughts, "we're definitely not alone here."

"I don't think anything here means us any harm, though," Finrod replied.

In fact, Finrod felt more at peace in this moment than he had since the Trees died. To be in a place where the land and the water itself echoed with the music of the Ainur, well-fed and soon to be rested, reunited with his dearest friend - it was as though he could finally breathe again after so long spent suffocating.

"No, me neither. But I wonder what it is about this place that makes it so full of life? We've been following the river for some time now, but this is the first time that I've felt so...surrounded."

"You might be right. But I'm just glad that whatever it is that dwells here is letting us bathe!"

Turgon laughed at that. "Absolutely."

On the Grinding Ice, they had never felt clean. Sweat and grime had built up between the many layers of fur and hide that they had clothed themselves with, and they had all been foul and bedraggled by the time they had descended upon the Lammoth. Now that they were journeying along the river, neither Finrod nor Turgon had gone a day without bathing. At least Turgon was able to laugh about it.

By the time Finrod climbed out of the mere, Turgon had laid out their bedrolls and banked the fire; and was sat on his bedroll in a tunic and with his hair wrapped. Although they had not actually discussed whether they would make camp where they were or move on, Finrod could not disagree with the choice - he was certain that they would find no danger here. He dried off quickly and went to lie down beside his cousin - the buzzing of the dragonflies and the gentle lapping of the waters were having a strangely soporific effect.

"Thank you for coming here with me," Turgon said, all of a sudden. "I had not quite realised how much I missed the open lands and the green smell of the forests."

"You did not miss your favourite cousin, then?" Finrod teased.

"Really, you have to ask? You know I did."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't mock you. I missed you too. It's strange... to have gone thirty years without my good friend, when we lived in one another's pockets for so long on the Ice. At Tol Sirion I kept turning to talk to you, forgetting that you were not there."

Turgon was silent for several moments, and Finrod wondered if he had fallen asleep. Then, finally:

"Come and visit me in Vinyamar. See my city. See my sister and my daughter. We'd all like that."

The evening was not cold, but Finrod felt his chest warm at Turgon's words. "Alright, then. I'd like that, too."

Turgon reached out between the bedrolls and squeezed his hand.

Finrod felt himself drifting into sleep, their fingers still entangled. Around them, the water-spirits whispered through the reeds and the stars glimmered against the surfaces of the pools, creating a vision of unmarred peace and beauty. Held by the safety of the grove and the love of his friend, Finrod's mind gently drifted open, and he began to dream.

[finnritter]

Elrond: Okay, so, Glorfindel can't join the Fellowship because he literally glows in the dark and would alert Sauron to everyone's location. Elves with such awesome power must stay behind. Legolas, you shall go.

Legolas: :)

Legolas: ...

Legolas: Wait >:(

[finnritter]

Turgon|Turukano kissing his wife Elenwe who carries their toddler Idril|Itarille on her shoulders. The helcaraxe might be awful, but it only makes them feel the love for each other so much keener.

[finnritter]

middle-earth's wholesomest besties

[finnritter]

miriel's funeral

[finnritter]

a young Morwen and a friend

[finnritter]

According to Know Your Meme, on August 18th, 2005, Erwin Beekveld brought forth this work into the world. HAPPY TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY, THEY’RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD.

[finnritter]

Fellowship

[finnritter]

we’ve all seen arranged marriage russingon aus but how about a “both of them desperately try to talk their fathers into arranging that specific marriage while their fathers insist that of course they’d never trade their children’s ability to make a lovematch for the sake of politics” au

(bonus points if the conflict is mended by feanor and fingolfin separately deciding that it’s gone too far if their eldest sons feel the need to sacrifice themselves over it while our main couple remains tragically and selfishly blueballed)