halfelvenweek - Tumblr blog

[halfelvenweek]

Hello !

I don't know if you saw this but Luthienweek is in the same time as you. I think it's okay since luthien line is the line of half-elves. So If I participate, I'll try to do both events in the same drawing.

But in case you don't know about it, now you do.

Have a good day 💚

We usually plan the event for september or october and since September this year was not an option (mod @armenelols here and I am finishing up exams at the time), we settled for October - we didn't really check for any other events at the time, just settled on a date that suits us the best.

And doing both events in the same week is fine for us! :) Thanks for letting us know, good day to you too! <3

[halfelvenweek]

Hello everyone!

We are back with the fourth year of Half-Elven Week, an event dedicated to celebrating Tolkien's half-elves. To note – as half-elven, we count all characters who have the blood of elves and some other race, no matter if they are called so in the canon.

This week is organized by @armenelols and @yellow-faerie and is held on October 14th - October - 20th 2024.

Prompts:

Day 1 - Being Different; Doriathrim - Lúthien, Dior, Eluréd, Elurín, Elwing

Day 2 - The Choice; People of Sirion - Elwing, Eärendil, Elrond, Elros

Day 3 - Heritage; Númenoreans - Elros, his children and descendants

Day 4 - Power; People of Rivendell - Elrond, his children and descendants

Day 5 - Legacy; Princes of Dol Amroth - Galador, Gilmith and their descendants

Day 6 - Loss; Parents of half-elves - Melian, Thingol, Tuor, Idril, Beren, Nimloth, Celebrían, Elros's wife, Imrazôr, Mithrellas, and others

Day 7 - Freeform

Rules:

- prompts aren't mandatory, only a source of inspiration

- OCs are welcome - children of Caranthir/Haleth, Aegnor/Andreth, any elf/other race pair

- tag your work #halfelvenweek and tag us @halfelvenweek so we can find your post

- if you have any questions, asks are open!

Have fun!

[halfelvenweek]

Hello o/

Excuse me if i’ve asked this before, but will you be doing Half-Elven Week during the same date in 2024?

Hello! Thank you for asking, I'm so sorry it took so long to reply: our plan is to have the week at least at a similar time next year!

[halfelvenweek]

100 words for @halfelvenweek

Elrond, head on his brother’s lap, listens to Elros’s quiet humming. Restless, he sits up. ‘Do you not fear that we made the wrong choice? That I love the Edain too well, and you the Eldar?’ Elros has been combing his own waist-length hair; now he takes a lock. ‘No. Love pulls at us,’ he says, and draws the strands apart, then twists them together. ‘Our choice anchors us.’ He draws the knot tight, continues the braid. ‘See how strong? So our lives bind the two kindreds together.’ Elrond nods, draws a hand through his own close-cropped hair, and wonders.

[halfelvenweek]

Elwing Aesthetic

For @halfelvenweek before it finishes

[halfelvenweek]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #5

What was all that in RoTK about the beautiful, magical, graceful, glorious Imrahil? Have 100 words of appreciation for the Elvish blood in the Princes of Dol Amroth, for @halfelvenweek.

********

As a child, Imrahil would walk the beaches of Dol Amroth for hours, clambering into every sea-cave and rocky inlet he could find, calling and calling in the Elvish tongues. When the tide was too high for such wanderings, he would plumb the woods, tangling himself in briars, delving into hollows among the fallen trees. The tales provided no happy ending for his foremother: her disappearance was a sad silence in the book of his mind. Mithrellas! he called, seeking her. He wished only to warm and welcome her, to show her that her children had grown gentle and kind.

[halfelvenweek]

Beren and Lúthien living happily to the end of their days for @halfelvenweek

[halfelvenweek]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #4

For @halfelvenweek, have 100 words of Amon Ereb horror-show.

********

Elrond’s first tooth falls out in a crust of bread, their second week in Amon Ereb. Maglor is horrified at his swift decay. He calls for the healer; digs frantically through the mildewed library for lore on the ailments of mortal children; weeps quietly over his failure in care. Maedhros, drunk and sarcastic, only grins. “Their mother was a bird, was she not? They moult, I believe. Will it be hair or fingers next, do you think?” At Elrond’s frightened gasp, he throws back his head and barks a feral laugh. His own battered teeth gap black against his gums.

[halfelvenweek]

A snippet of the rough draft of one of my TRSB treats, written a while ago. I thought I would post it for @halfelvenweek. I really do not have the energy right now to write anything new, or even edit that much, but I wanted to contribute, so, enjoy this-

 (In this AU, Eluréd and Elurín survive the fall of Doriath and are raised by Idril and Tuor with Elwing and Eärendil. Nengelion is my OC who is Andreth and Aegnor's son, and is adopted by Gal after the Dagor Bragollach.)

Galadriel had been teaching Eluréd magic she had learned from Melian. He wanted to give her gifts and thank her profusely, but she told him it was only what she thought was proper. Melian was his great-grandmother after all, and he should know her magic. No thanks needed. It was very fun to learn magic, he was doing things he never knew he could do before. His favorite thing to do after a session was always to go talk to Nengelion about it. Although he knew one day, he would learn all that Galadriel could teach him, he did not want it to end. He could not deny he also wanted to stay as long as he could in Lórinand for the sole purpose of being around Nen.

He was such a calming and kind presence. Eluréd could go on and ramble about whatever subject he wanted and Nen would sit there and listen with rapt attention.

            “Wow, this is such a fun spell, I can’t wait to show Nengelion,” Eluréd said.

            “Why don’t you tell him?” Galadriel asked.

            “Tell him what?” Eluréd asked, even though he knew he had no chance of deceiving her.

            She looked at him, a disappointed look across her face.

            “You know what.” She said.

            He sighed.

            “But he’s so calm and poised and perfect, and I’m me.” Eluréd said, “I love him so much I feel like my heart will burst. What if he doesn’t like me back?”

            “Nen is like my father,” Galadriel said, “He thinks much and says little. But you could have a chance. I see the way he looks at you.”

            “How does he look at me?” Eluréd said.

            “Just the other day, I saw he was watching you dance with a small smile on his face,” Galadriel said. “Just the way my father looked at my mother.”

            “Did he really do that?” Eluréd said, “Don’t give me false hope, Galadriel.”

            “I would never give you false hope,” she said, “I want only the best for my nephew, and for you, my friend.”

[halfelvenweek]

In Rivendell: Elrond and a Feanorian OC

@halfelvenweek

This is a section of a WIP that I think I haven't ever posted publicly, I think, although it wasn't written recently.

It features Elrond in Rivendell some time after the Fall of Eregion, although it looks back on his past in the First Age.

He is speaking with one of my ex-Feanorian OCs. She insists on serving Elrond fresh-baked cinnamon rolls every morning.

Elrond was alone in the breakfast room, keeping tryst, but it seemed the rest of the household had been slower to rise this morning. Naurthoniel carefully set down her tray of fresh-baked rolls before him as usual, but, as she did so, the scent of cinnamon wafted up and she spoke.

'Of course, we did not have any cinnamon, in Himring.'

She raised her eyes and saw that Elrond was listening—his face so intent that she could not help it, she went on speaking.

'Well, I guess we did, sometimes, that is, I can remember perhaps two or three occasions when we received a consignment of cinnamon from Cirdan, but it was precious. I would not have wasted it on a private breakfast, then, not even for Maedhros himself, I would have kept it for a formal banquet, with guests. That was during the Long Siege. There was none at all to be had, during the early days—and none at all in the time you were with us, as you know. An entirely false tradition, really—it was in Tirion that my cinnamon rolls were famous. Maedhros used to praise them extravagantly...'

She stopped, feeling abruptly that she had run out of breath, as if she had run a very long way.

'I know,' said Elrond. 'It is a good tradition nevertheless and the rolls are excellent. I am sure there could be none better in Valinor.'

'You are far too kind to me,' said Naurthoniel. 'You have been putting up with me all this time... I was not nearly good enough to you when you came to us, after Sirion, and don't deserve so much consideration.'

'I remember you as kind,' said Elrond. 'You did much more for me than you remember, probably. You were grieving bitterly for your cousin Ceredir, but that didn't stop you from taking care of our needs, mine and Elros's, as best you could. I can recall at least half a dozen occasions when you went without just so we could have a treat.'

Naurthoniel regarded him dubiously, but he really seemed to mean it.

'I should not have left you to go to Ost-in-Edhil,' she said then. 'Especially not if you remember me like that. I felt, even then, that I was deserting you.'

'But how could you have resisted, Narye?' said Elrond, using her old name, the one they had used in Beleriand. 'There was so little for you to do in Lindon, by then, except to try not to tread on anyone's toes and avoid offending people by being Feanorian!  I wasn't at all surprised when, after that visit to Eregion, you chose to stay.'

Elrond put his hand over hers, on the table.

'I'm just so glad you're still here, Narye,' he said.

She considered the surprisingly sane and well-balanced person sitting before her and just how many people in his life he had already lost. Then she squeezed his hand. She did not feel she had the right to, but someone should, even if it was just her.

'I'm not leaving, Elrond,' she said firmly.

And Elrond smiled, as if she had given him a great gift.

He had really been afraid of losing her, like the rest. The discovery overwhelmed her just a bit, so much that she found she needed to go away and think about that.

(Naurthoniel is still traumatized by the fall of Eregion. Elrond has been handling her with care.)

[halfelvenweek]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #3

There's debate about where Dior fell in the reckoning of Elves and Men, but have 100 words of him coming (briefly) into power in Doriath, anyway, for @halfelvenweek.

********

Thingol’s throne was made for a taller man than Dior. His grandfather’s legendary stature is confirmed by the depth of the seat, by the great curving swoop of the arms. Perhaps his mother could reshape herself to fit it, but his bones are unwilling to make that change. He will lengthen his robes to hide the extra riser beneath his feet, slide a cushion behind his back to lift himself away from the stone. How long will he need to rule, he wonders, before his own weight smooths out the dips from Thingol’s haunches, makes the chilly seat his own?

[halfelvenweek]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #2

For today's @halfelvenweek entry, have 100 words of Missed Opportunities (canon be damned).

********

They meet by accident: Aegnor on a rare visit to Thargelion to iron out trading routes and taxes, Caranthir riding home from Brethil, singing with unfamiliar cheer. The child perched in front of him peers up at Aegnor from under her hood, her Fëanorian eyes sparkling. Her dimples are something else entirely: absolutely, familiarly human in their cheeky guile. Caranthir’s fierce face forbids the question, but Aegnor’s heart pounds and pounds…What risks has his cousin taken, where his own feet have stepped aside? Had he followed that path, what joy might have waited? What similar treasures might he have found?

[halfelvenweek]

Half-elven Week Drabbles #1

I'm a day behind, oh no! Let's make Eärendil suffer for my tardiness. Have 100 words of a poor, tired meow-meow for @halfelvenweek.

********

Eärendil watches his father sleep, marveling at the absolute separation from the world his slumber marks. The velvet of his eyelids is so tender, exposed and trembling as he dreams. His own rest more resembles his mother’s: wide-eyed shimmering between the real and unreal; long rambles in memory, meant to console and heal. He wonders what strange truths reveal themselves in the dark depths of his father’s dreaming, what monsters and marvels dwell there, what strange songs echo in the fog. Tuor wakes so refreshed from those deep wanderings, while Eärendil is weary, his shallow dreaming ever full of light.

[halfelvenweek]

Refugees of Sirion

Elwing and Eärendil for @halfelvenweek

[halfelvenweek]

The Last King and Queen of Doriath

Dior and Nimloth for @halfelvenweek

[halfelvenweek]

If I Were Not Myself Would This Be Easier

My entry for @halfelvenweek featuring Celebrian grappling with the daunting lack of knowledge there is about peredhel and Elrond being reminded of his own years spent trying to figure out his identity.

C/W: Brief mention of periods if you’re particularly sensitive to that.

Elrond sectioned one pile of archivist notes into three more separate piles with a sure certainty that he would not remember the criteria by which he’d done it by the end ‘that was if they were in anyway separate by then,’ he thought as the soft midsummers breeze lifted a page and the entirety of the makeshift library was jostled as he shifted his legs under the sheets to catch it. This certainty was solidified as he found himself intrigued by a transcript of a debate that was civil only in the lack of profane vocabulary on the matter of the Quenya Ban and on where to categorise it. A new pile it was.

He knew logically that the very depth of the night was far from the best time to be doing this, at this time of year he should not have to wait far longer for better light than that of the lamps in their bedchamber, and a desk would be a more ideal work environment but nonetheless he found his productivity improved greatly when it was least convenient to be brimming with a thirst for knowledge.

He was so engrossed and enthusiastic that he did not notice the return of his wife through the swaying curtains until the mattress dipped beside him as she collapsed face first onto the sheets as if intending to sleep right then while still in her dressing gown and slippers.

He carefully slipped the papers from beneath her and set them on the floor before they were creased too severely and she stretched her arms up and shifted to rest up against the pillows with long yawn, ‘Elrond?’

‘Hmm? Yes, dear?’

She barely restrained a snicker as she rolled to watch him affectionately ‘What exactly are you doing?’

He looked down at the papers in front of him and started to tidy them off the bed ‘Well you were gone so I thought I’d read while I waited for you but then I noticed the book wasn’t compiled correctly, someone had put the Nirnaeth Arnoediad before everything about Gondolin Celebrian, which makes no sense so I started reordering things and-’

He cut off awkwardly and turned to face his wife once he remembered the reason for her absence and that no matter how patient she was with his sleeping habits this was probably not a time she wanted to be hearing about his archiving.

‘Oh, is Arwen alright? She’s not upset is she, I swear if one of the boys said something to her-’

Celebrian settled into the crook of his arm and kissed his neck soothingly before replying.

‘There’s no need to worry to yourself Arwen is perfectly alright. But, well,’ she scrunched her face up in contemplation as if not entirely sure of the truth of her words.

‘But there is something. What troubles you?’

‘Well she seems in good health, she- she started her bleed,’ she whispered that last bit with surprising distress for an elleth who had never shown much reservation in such simple matters.

‘I’m not sure I follow the problem?’

‘She’s not yet thirty Elrond! There should have been another decade before we had to worry about this, even accounting for her perdhel blood!’

‘Celebrian, I’ve said it’s not an exact science with these things, there’s no way to really anticipate….. anything really,’ he spoke haltingly, the nature of his own blood and his children’s by extension was always a complex topic and deserved to be considered with care.

She clenched her eyes tightly together in the way he knew indicated tears welling up behind them and that her unease was not a sudden thing but something that had been building.

‘I know that. I do and I try to get used to it but, oh Elrond they’re my children and I feel as if I know nothing at all about them! I have no understanding of so many things they go through, when I was trying to reassure Arwen she kept talking of symptoms I’ve never even heard of before and I told her it was all perfectly normal because she seemed alright but I don’t know.’

She lowered her voice to a soft earnest whisper, ‘I sometimes feel that you could do this better yourself. You just understand all of this in a way that I never can, it seems as if anything could happen with them and it’s terrifying!’

Her concerns brought to mind memories he knew his wife would not enjoy a comparison to, of the battle hardened kinslayer, with the voice of silk and raw power both, fervently conversing with his brother over the latest incident that left him feeling so thoroughly out of his depth both as a caretaker in general but especially one to two who were the only of their kind as a direct result of his actions. 

‘Don’t say things like that my love, you are an excellent mother and the children love you so very much, as do I, you do not need to understand everything to make them feel safe and loved, which is the important thing and you do it so well,’ he definitely wasn’t thinking of how said kinslayer had held him to his chest on sleepless nights and gently teased knots out of his hair while two who may not have been as out of depths in regard to the nature of half elves were certainly too so in other ways to do so. Neither blood, nor good character make a good parent in all cases and one with arguably neither may be one in others. Celebrian was a good mother, there was no question about that and it would not do for her to think otherwise.

‘It’s terrifying for me as well. I know I may come across as if I know these things but I have scarcely more idea than you a lot of the time. They are the only children of that exact genetic combination of elvish, edain and Maia blood that ever has or ever will exist and while that’s a daunting a prospect and not in the slightest simple for us or them there’s a beauty in it all the same. They will discover and shape themselves in a way none ever will again, each in their own way.’

He knew the fear that she speaks of, how could he not when it is one he felt his whole life, not for his child but for himself? Waking up in the morning and not knowing what may happen to him, if his skin should turn to fire or ice, if plants should grow at his feet or the rocks should crack at his voice, with none he spoke to having anymore idea. He hit adolescence at fifteen and in a peculiarly staggered manner, Elros in an entirely different pattern as well.

He still doesn’t know when he was an adult and no one around him did either. Following logic he supposed it should have been in and around his fifties but whether that was true or not he’ll never know, he reckons it came a lot earlier and could convince enough people of that to let him bear arms at twenty three. Whether Elrond was in all truth still a child- it’s hard to be entirely sure. A childhood such as his would make it hard to tell.

What he did know was that callouses formed over his fingertips while he weaved sweet clear music to bend starlight, rivers and flame with naught but a harp. He knew that many didn’t know what to make of him or the seemingly endless contradictions. He’d had more than one conversation in which he’d been oh so politely asked to ‘tune it down’ a bit, that he was unnerving people and if he looked and sounded enough like an elf and chose to be one why did he have to keep complicating matters for himself. He supposed it would have been ‘easier’ if he were in elf but the fact remained that he wasn’t, and he had no illusions that when they asked why he kept complicating matters for himself what they meant was complicating matters for them. How could it be confuse him to be what he was?

He supposed that vein of questioning may not have frustrated him so if it hadn’t been exactly what he’d heard over countless other things, his gender, his inclinations, his parentage and loyalties. They did not truly want to help him they wanted to be able to know which little box they should put him, if they should condemn him, pity him or embrace him as their own but this was a very difficult distinction to make when he insisted on being both their’s and their enemy’s kin and did not have the decency to pick one. When he did make the Choice many people were confused as to why he kept making a point out of being a Perdhel because he ‘was an elf now’ as if that was what the Choice had been about.

They did not actually wish to understand, they wished for things to be simple so he made a point of continuing to challenge them as much as possible. He strode about Lindon in swaying elvish gowns holding piles of books and scrolls, gathered herbs in the folds of an edainic skirt and apron, sparred with all the Feanorian techniques in a Beorian tunic, sung the work of Maglor in the unmistakable sweet tone of Luthien Tinuviel, flirted shamelessly with whoever caught his eye and laughed among the tips of trees with his floor length dark hair streaming behind him arrayed in robes of Nolofinwean blue. He outraged all with every manner of braid and insignia and above all refused to comprise on any facet of himself to assist any other’s comfort with his existence. 

The place in the world for him and his children did not exist but they would make one. The way he had created one at Gil Galad’s side and again in Imladris. The way Elros had among the Numenoreans, his parents had with each other all the way back to Luthien defying the laws of death itself to create what had previously been impossible. They would make one and it would be glorious.

[halfelvenweek]

If I’m posting on Ao3 as well is there a specific tag I should use or a collection or something? I’ll just cross post it here otherwise, I don’t mind.

We have no ao3 collections or tags, sorry! We only collect works via reblogging on Tumblr - cross posting would be the best way to get us to see it.