morgoths-ring - Tumblr blog

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'This is sharper than thy tongue, half-brother!'

Do not use without my permission, please

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@maedhrosmaglorweek, Day 7: Storytelling

Maglor sings, and the ruins of Tol Himling come to life.

I'm actually really proud of all the art I've made for Maedhros & Maglor Week (and I have so many new fics saved open to read)! Thanks to the mods for hosting this :-)

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Caranthir and the dwarves

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Hope fades

Into the world of night

Through shadows falling

Out of memory and time

Don't say

We have come now to the end

White shores are calling

You and l will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms

Just sleeping

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curufinwe “what are you talking about, I’ve always shone like this” feanaro

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more tolkien guys: glorfindel, tinfang warble, celegorm (and huan), and radagast

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Doors to Nargothrond, Glaurung, and Túrin in fancy elvish armor ♥ Another picture for "the Children of Húrin metal LP covers series", I made a sketch right after I finished drawing the first one ....shall I draw more of these ? :3

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'Hobbit house and G. passing by'

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some elves sketches (old)

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I love this fandom, look at this person's comment:

😂😂😂 so true

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Lady Galadriel, 02.2024

My favorite overpowered, scary, tall elf. Women, am I right?

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It is not yet dawn when they break camp – so much as "dawn" means these days, when the northern skies are ever black with smoke and orcs roam freely in the wilds of broken Beleriand. There are few places left free of the Enemy's taint. Yet the smoke cannot cover all light; the rim of the sky is blushed pink, and the new star rises in the West.

Maglor looks to the light, as the children do: all three fall quiet. But Maedhros walks ahead, his hand on his sword-hilt, and sees nothing but the dark and treacherous path ahead.

For @maedhrosmaglorweek, Day 5: New Horizons

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breakdown/mending

“I cannot do this,” says Makalaurë, breaking his own stilted attempt at a formal greeting, and crumples like a cloth doll at my bedside. 

It is the first time he has come alone. He slipped into the tent early this morning, hollow-eyed in the grey light; now he screams into my blankets, and the medicine-bottles tremble upon the low table. 

(Of all my brothers, Makalaurë was ever the quickest to tears. He wept for lost toys and stories, for quarrels between brothers and grievances not his own, for beautiful songs and unexpected gifts – but not like this. Not over me.)

“Káno, Káno,” I say, the nickname strange and rough in my mouth. “Why come here, if the sight of me upsets thee so?” 

It is meant as a joke, but I know at once it is wrong: it is too near the truth. Angamando, I am told, has warped my sense of humour.

 “I am sorry,” Makalaurë sobs, straining for control of his voice. “This is not – I did not come to thee for this–”

His hands twist in the tangle of his hair, pulling at his scalp as he used to when he was very small and upset. “Stop, Káno, you will hurt yourself,” I tell him – but I am too harsh, and he flinches.

I knew how to calm him, once. Remembering is like looking through poorly-made glass, smoke-tainted and full of imperfections; but I know there was once a bright-haired, handsome child who held his little brother tight and stroked his hair while he cried. 

That child, I think, would know what to do. 

Even slow and halting movement jars my shoulder painfully. Still I reach for Makalaurë, thinking to take his hand – but I cannot do it. Touch is hateful to me now, the healers’ ministrations all my fragile skin can bear. A glancing touch, and against my will my hand draws back – my fingers shake, bone-white and too thin – I dare not try again. 

It would not do any good. My scars are the cause of my brother’s distress: he looks at me as if he had cut every mark himself. How, then, could I be a comfort to him?

This is how I know myself changed: Makalaurë weeps before me, and I cannot console him. 

@maedhrosmaglorweek, Day Two: Trust/Distrust

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In a modern AU would he have short or long hair?

His hair looks like peppermint candies anyway

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One thing I love about the Silmarillion is that because it’s so massive, its fans have to specialize.

Like I love everything but my Silm major is in Finrod studies, with a minor in obscure background characters.

Reblog this post with your Silmarillion “speciality,”

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Yavanna