silvannikerym

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kingoftheravens:

​     ”I doubt you would know it, but it is called Asgard. A separate realm.       I was not born there, however, but on another realm named       Jötunheimr,” he explained, examining the empty glass before he       reached for another. “The aftertaste is better than the taste. I think it       might be growing on me.”

"—Asgard...? No, I do not think I've heard of such a place. Neither of them..." So this was no ordinary man, then. The corner of her mouth quirked subtly, amused, as he acquired his second helping. "Am I correct in assuming that the drinks are strong in Asgard? I have seen men collapse after consuming what you just have."

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Hae ephadron theri thaur am na dhû ias fir i ambar A trehil i ‘alad’ lân uir tri ‘wilith

Tauriel is young and impetuous and more inclined to follow her heart than her people. She is headstrong, yet there are few warriors more cunning than she. Tauriel also yearns to understand more of the outside world, for there is also softness and kindness outside the seclusion of Mirkwood - and its light can shine in the least-suspected places.

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Tauriel watched with clear surprise in her features as the man drained his glass. A sip or two was plenty for most to feel the drink's effects- perhaps an entire cup for an elf. But he seemed unaffected.

She knew that he was a guest at the feast, but no more. As he had not required the additional protection of the guard, no one had bothered to dignify her with information. He seemed— a bit different than others she'd met among the race of men.

"—And where is it that you call home?"

      If it was anything like the alcohol on Asgard, several glasses       would knock him straight onto his ass. But one goblet? That       wouldn’t hurt. So with both intrigue and absolutely no fear, he       tipped the entire contents of the cup into his mouth and downed       it in a few quick swallows. When it was lowered, he exhaled out       contentedly and licked his lips.

     ”Not bad. Had better, of course, but the alcohol we have where I’m       from has always been difficult to bear.”

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I saw this and thought I’d repost it to tumblr, but if whoever made this can be found, I’d happily give them credit.

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"Very. But not too sweet." She took a step or two closer, only enough to peer over the rim of his cup. "Most find it is precisely as sweet as they prefer. It is miruvor; have you not tasted it before tonight?" The liqueur had a warmth to it, and was used by many to rejuvenate themselves when weariness had taken hold. Tauriel was unsure whether or not she should warn the stranger that a full glass of it may be a bit strong, for men.

      He seemed to consider for a long moment. On one hand,       alcohol was one of the greatest drinks of all time and based       on what he had heard, the Elvenking had grand taste in       wine and other related drinks, but on the other, Loki knew       it took a considerable amount of alcohol to get elves drunk       and whatever was in his hand seemed to do it fairly easily       and thus he was hesitant.

     ”Hmm,” he drawled, dipping his head just enough to sniff the       liquid within the goblet. “Is it sweet?”

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She followed the aim of his hand to a table that was now almost bare, and smiled. "If alcohol is what you seek, then you will enjoy the cup in your hand. If not—" She pointed to a different table behind him, one still very full of goblets. "—That table is for those who wish to keep their wits tonight."

     ”That one right there,” he said, pointing in the direction of       the table where he had picked up his glass. “I was not aware       there were separate tables with different drinks on them.”

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"There may be. On which table did you find it?"

      “Is there alcohol in this?”

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Imagine your icon crying because someone they loved died

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She had crept up beside the stranger without making a sound. By the time she had made her presence known, an arrow was knocked and drawn, with the point only a few inches from its target.

"Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" she demanded, prepared to loose.

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She had crept up beside the stranger without making a sound. By the time she had made her presence known, an arrow was knocked and drawn, with the point only a few inches from its target.

"Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" she demanded, prepared to loose.

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bitches ain’t shit and they ain’t sayin’ nothin’

a hundred motherfuckers can’t tell me nothin’

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