#Candaith

[shoshotechi]

The Grey Company sets out from Rivendell.

This is from last November! Inspiration kicked me in the face and I had to draw this scene of the Lads leaving the Last Homely House to go to their Doom... I am still completely obsessed with the way Lord of the Rings Online expanded upon what is only a footnote in the books, and took us on a journey of angst and heartbreak; so my plan is, as I replay the content, to illustrate every step and write a fic about my own character's involvement in it.

But yea. I cannot imagine the Grey Company without the Ranger NPCs from LOTRO anymore.. <: They are now canon and beloved to me. Here we have Lothrandir on tiny grey Mithul, Tirirandir (who is my character) on his borrowed horse Pîn, his best buddy Candaith on a liver chestnut I don't believe has a name (?) and Halbarad the gigachad with Arwen's banner.

I still have a love/hate relationship with the colours, but it's one of the better pieces of last year. 2024 in general was one of the better years in terms of personal art; I wholly attribute that to getting into drawing Tolkien fanart and discovering new communities!! After seven years of film school, I'm finally inspired and motivated again to create and share, and that's bliss to me!

[poetry-draws]

If you're doing plinko picker requests, perhaps a Candaith? 👀

i wouldn't want to 1v1 prime ivar either

[find-the-path]

Month-long fic challenge using these LOTRO Rangers + Situations prompts collected by a-lonely-dunedain. Minimum of 100 words, no particular adherence to timelines or canon.

13: Candaith & hypothermia

The cold stays with him from dreams to reality. So does the dark.

Candaith blinks gritty eyes into the blackness, and only then knows he is awake.

For I— I am the heir of Isildur!

It rings in his head. He hears all the desperation, the bravado, the hope. One cast-all plan to get them out of here, and he can hear the stark lie dripping from his own voice echoed back. Of course they didn’t believe him.

Soft blue light lifts the void in stages. No raging wind or voice accompanies it this time; the ghosts settling back into their Age-old curse. They pay him no heed. Britou, still brandishing the sword that ran him through, does not glance his way.

The dead have no concern with the living.

Numb, barely conscious, watching the frozen blood around the wound slowly turn his flesh necrotic, Candaith wonders how long that will apply to him.

He wonders how many more of his kin are dead or dying for his folly.

The frost reaches his chest. Muscles seize and cramp under its tightening grip. His heart beats faster in its death throes, and at last he feels the pain. I’ve watched this, he thinks, it should hurt more. Garan had been screaming in the last few minutes. But it’s been a few years since he last saw a death by wraith. He might remember wrong.

Candaith’s heart stutters, stills, and freezes over.

[ardunimir]

Witch-King of Angmar 🤝 Candaith

#lotro #candaith #witchking

[mighty-mando]

couldn't help but notice the recent uptick in LOTRO activity 👀 so I gotta ask, the most important question for any lotro player, who is your favorite ranger?

(sorry if that's out of the blue I just get excited when I see new people interact with this lil fandom)

Aaaaahhhhhh yes. I have been subject to a (un?)fortunate combination of an urge to write angsty fan fiction, spare time to play LOTRO, AND a new art tool. This has led me to find out their are dozens of fellow Ranger-stans here 🙊

My favorite Rangers (because who can pick just one?) have always been Lothrandir, Candaith, and Amdir. I'm an old enough LOTRO player to remember when it was Amdir who rescued you from the Blackwolds, and it was Amdir who asked you to gather Kingsfoil to make tea for him, all while slowly fading away and Strider wasn't there to help, so Amdir was my first love. 💔

[hallothere]

52 with Candaith?

52. Fake death/presumed dead

The Draig-lûth had started a rumor that Harndirion was haunted. It may as well be, after the outpouring of dead- all sorts, from shades to wights to things mortal eyes were never meant to gaze upon- and the upheaval at Ost Dunhoth. Even he had been aware of that change. The fortress- glowing, even under no moon- before going suddenly dark. Bird calls resumed shortly so all must be well in the wider world. But he could not go and check.

Candaith had been both prepared to die, and determined to live. Britou had not cut him so deeply as his Company believed. No, he was loath to remember that his planned fate was worse than that. The others had fled before he regained consciousness. It was equal parts the shock of the wound and the severity of it that drove him to the dirt, unmoving for so long. He could feel the shades gather 'round as he dragged himself hand over hand to the exit.

'Let him go' one had said 'the fun is just getting started'.

But what torments the shades of Oathbreakers devised for amusement Candaith shuddered to remember. He found Himeldir first, and thought he might well die there too.

Long, long after he had exhausted his tears and the sounds of the Dead had faded to whispers had Candaith picked up his head once more. He had not the strength to rescue Himeldir now, but he would return. There was nothing the Dead would do or think to do with one so like their own. It was the living they chose to torment.

Linnor had been hardest to bear. Candaith faltered again so soon in his worm's sojourn across the floor of the cavern and wailed where tears would not fall. He cursed the Dead once more over for this grievous harm, took up Linnor's star to bolster himself, and began the crawl again.

Calithil. Hodhon. He knew three more names were ready to greet him in the dark, the murky, bule-tinted gloom. At one point he was able to stop, to sob again as the picture came unbidden of a line sixty-long stretching from the mouth of the cave to their camp in the hills.

Candaith made it into grass and sunlight at mid-day of whichever day this was. He cared not for secrecy or safety. The Dead did not care if he perished under the sun, for they knew he would. Soon. He rolled himself behind the cover of one of the exterior stones and slept.

He awoke, at first, to the darkness of the cave and bunched between the bodies of his fallen kin. Then he saw the stars and the stone. Candaith needed more water if he wished to cry again. This time, out of the oppressive atmosphere cultivated by the Dead, he found he could stand. He nearly lost consciousness getting to his feet once more, but upright he found it was not as hard, and cursed the Dead again.

The grass on the hillside was tall, and he could drop into it easily enough if he needed to hide. Green-enough was his cloak even if it was stained with blood and dirt. Perhaps the irregularity of it would help shield him from prying eyes. It heartened him little that he did not see much of the crebain that had dogged their movements. Perhaps they had gone ahead. Perhaps there remained no movement for them to spy on.

He had haunted Harndirion ever since he found it empty. Empty, save one cache, and one note in Helchon's hand: For the journey home, may it serve you well and may your steps be lightened. He had his waterskin, and he had his cry. Precious little had been left, save for this, but enough for him to tell the numbers leaving were great. Great, and perhaps lighter only five than they had been in coming.

Candaith. Himeldir, Linnor, Calithil, Hodhon. Fallen in service of Aragorn on the Forsaken Road. Candaith set up a cairn with his feeble strength. He had found a hollow to hide in when cun annun came sniffing around. They knew his scent, surely, but he was up to high to be caught by them. He dressed his wound as best as he was able and slept heavily.

Without better treatment, his recovery was slow. But, Candaith had few options. He had seen the forces of the White Hand milling about the base of the hill, investigating the force that had gone through. He had been trapped up in his hollow for two days straight avoiding sight and capture. Then the half-orcs moved on. Then he was alone again.

He haunted Harndirion, and gazed ever at Lhanuch. A safety so near and yet so far. The open ground was too much to attempt alone and in such a condition. If he was not cut down by orcs or Draig-lûth, there were wargs to scent his injury and oxen to gore him. He stayed. He haunted Harndirion.

Until the day the dead poured out from the Forsaken Road. He had watched, helpless, petrified, as they surrounded a wagon. His shock increased when the wagon not only passed unharmed, but then stopped outside the very hole these shades had appeared from. He had a decent view from up here. There were figures going in. There were horses, and a wagon unattended.

This was his only chance.

Candaith had made the trip from that place of death in much poorer health than he was now, though he was still unsteady on his feet and his back pulled terribly. Sometimes it opened again and bled, and it was only the athelas in the cache that kept infection at bay. He felt the wound tear again, but this was his chance. He would either find help or death at the hands of these travelers.

He was close enough now. The riders were inside but oh- he knew that horse. He knew Erebrandir, and Glorengur. Candaith ran. He scurried up the path, tripped, and fell before the horses in an undignified heap. He'd startled them. Erebrandir reared back and gave his fiercest whinny.

And that was enough to pull Radanir from the cave.

He limped. He was covered in dirt, grime, and shed tears. He was alive. But his leg was weak, surely, for he fell into the road onto Candaith and hugged him soundly.

"Saeradan!" He cried, voice hoarse, "Saeradan I need you!"

Nothing ever brought Saeradan so quick as a kinsman in need and Radanir pulled the right string. Soon he was surrounded. The tears were joyful and grieving but fell without fear of interruption by the dead. Radanir apologized to his shoulder, over and over, lamenting ever leaving him in the hands of the Dead. Saeradan fetched the things his back truly needed.

"Never, brother, never." Candaith said, in response to the apology. "For had you stayed, and had I found a fifth body on that road, neither of us would be here in the daylight."

And they were not mended, but they were all much healed. And all the ghosts of Harndirion drove north.

[laigaming]

LotRO Rangers: Making me feel feelz since 2009

[tagnoob]

Diverted from Dunland - The Grey Company Slowly Assembles

Forward on to Mordor!  The next stop is Dunland, which I glimpsed briefly when I was chasing down one of the quests for The Huntsman back in Enedwaith. My first look at Dunland At first glace… it looked a lot like Enedwaith… which looks a lot like Eregion in places, which looks like the North Downs… I get it, the art team can only do so much and at least it isn’t Minecraft where every forest…

[theroadgoes-ever-on-and-on]

Absence

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” The phrase was murmured idly. Seconds later, the Evendim trained ranger ended up moving to avoid the pencil thrown at him.

The thrower was a dark grey eyed gender-fluid woman, who was sitting by him. “Not helpful when I’m out here trying to forget my feelings for a certain man, Can.” She snarked at one of her closest friends, briefly giving him the side eye. Her attention quickly returned to the woodcarving project that she was working on, letting silence fill the air once again.

Candaith didn’t mind the Lone-lands being his permanent position, even though it meant he rarely got to see that many folk. It never bothered him as much like his friend and Commander, he wasn’t a massive fan of being around a lot of people. For that reason alone, it was Saeradan, who much preferred noise to silence and enjoyed being around others.

In fact, it was Saeradan s preference for being around people, which had made their Chieftain place him permanently in the land around the town of Bree. With Hal mainly working from Esteldin in the North Downs, Saeradan in Bree-land and himself set in the Lone-lands, Candaith rarely saw his two closest friends anymore. So the younger ranger’s appearance had been unexpected but very much appreciated.

However the visit also poked his curiosity into full flow, since it wasn’t a normal habit for her. “Why here and not Saeradan?” Even as he asked though, there was a inkling in the back of his mind why she had come to him.

“Strider’s in Bree and I kind of wanted to avoid him for a while. Also I haven’t seen you in a few months and I was told to recover away from Esteldin, so here I am.” Hal gave a faint shrug, focusing on adding intricate details to the carving of a wolf. Given where exactly Candaith hidden his campsite, it meant that no one could walk into them by accident.

“Second in commands aren’t meant to want to avoid their leaders.”

“They’re also not meant to fall in love with said leader either.”

“Hence the reason you’re here and not in Bree, dropping a report about your mission off.” He tilted his head slightly, keeping his voice low as a small smile crossed his lips. But then the smile faded at seeing the familiar uncertainty crossing her features.

Candaith frowned and tugged the other ranger into a one armed hug, ignoring the instinctive flinch. “He’ll worry if you don’t appear. Strider is protective over all of us but more so over you.”

“I know. I just wish I could get rid of these feelings.” She answered softly, still on alert as the Lone-lands were not the safest of places at times. “Sometimes being absent makes it easier to sort feelings out because of the distance.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t. Especially where you and Strider are involved. Because it’s you two.” He nudged her gently, before letting peaceful silence fill the air around them again.

[a-little-hobbit-hole]

I keep stopping to play bg3 (procrastinate the heartbreak) but...

I'm not ready for this quest 🥺

[shoshotechi]

These four friends go way back. They grew up together, took the Rangers’ Oath together; but then everybody took up a posting somewhere in the wilderness of Eriador and meetings became rare. When the Grey Company assembles, it’s the first time in years that they are all in the same place. At first, they look forward to the journey - but that is because they don’t yet know how life-changing it is really going to be. 

fltr: Braigiar, Tirirandir (my character), Candaith, Radanir

Two years ago I finally played Vol. 3 of the LOTRO epic; and inspired by that experience and the mindboggling depth and intensity of this game's storytelling, I had to come up with my own Grey Company character. (I always say... if there's any situation that can completely break a man, I have to put an OC through it. (◡‿◡✿)  ) Anyway, that was the first version of Tirirandir; and with the character concept I began writing a story for him. (He's since become a RP character and his story extremely unmanageable so I'm still figuring out how to best structure and share it...) In this story/my hc, these four are good friends from the days of their youth. One might wonder how they came to be so close, being as radically different as each of them are—but maybe that was precisely the reason?

While Braigiar is bold and physical, Tirnel is withdrawn and logical; and where Candaith borders the self-destructive, Radanir brings the voice of reason. Tirnel is the thinker, Candaith the prankster, Radanir the grumpy, Braigiar the guardian.

Braigiar surprises everyone with his love for song and poetry. Radanir knows how to catch everyone off-guard with an expertly placed joke. Tirnel has a romantic streak; and Candaith too seems like a different person when he speaks so earnestly about his future and his place in the world...

[poetry-draws]

my baby boy Candaith. I need to see more of him please 🥺

Retaking Weathertop

[a-lonely-dunedain]

there are many fabled foods found in Middle Earth, these are not some of them.

[rohirric-hunter]

Hang on hang on, so Radagast was at Saeradan's cabin until he saw lightning on Weathertop, right? Lightning that was caused by Gandalf fighting the Nazgûl on Weathertop. But Gandalf sent you to Saeradan, specifically to find Radagast. Who was at Saeradan's place. Until he left. Because he saw Gandalf. Fighting Nazgûl. On Weathertop. That's hysterical

[gwynbleiddyn]

i feel like the dream in grimbold's camp at the beginning of book 6 should come with a warning that it will remove ur heart from ur body with the surgical accuracy of a drunk rhino

[shisui-uchiha-anon]

The times were truly strange as if fate was repeating itself. Just now there was no Melkor to pull the strings but his servant and pupil Sauron. Humans again fight for leadership instead of thinking over the greater good. Although this man looked fairly decent.

"I hope your chieftain proves to be a good choice for your people as a leader and as a protector."

He enters together with this human. The meeting room was still empty, and yes probably this human was right and this meeting was aimed toward them. One thing was for sure evil creatures were multiplying fast gathering in different spots, as if they were poking and probing each kingdom exploring where to attack first. It felt like when they poked around the Gondolin, a hand knocking over the wall till it could feel where it was hollow so that they could enter.

Soon the meeting room entered lord of the House Elrond and guards closed the doors behind him so it was the truth this meeting was just for the 2 of them.

Candaith inclines his head in a bow as well, a sign of greeting and a sign of respect. "It's good to meet you," he says.

He inhales deeply at the question. That's a complicated answer. "The storm itself is not the worst that plagues the land," he says after a moment, "it's simply that when the storm will hit, I would not have any place to shelter, so I came here."

He glances at his horse, who he also would have not been able to keep safe in the storm. Then he looks back at Shisui. "As for the state of the Lone Lands, the Enemy is constantly monitoring it, orcs threaten to creep further into the land. Crebain fly across the skies spying for their master. And the swamps are corrupted by a great evil; anyone who enters the swampland unprepared will surely be killed by evil spirits or some twisted creature."

His head tilts at Shisui's comment about the dwarfs, the tiniest of frowns appearing on his face. "There are some dwarfs there," he murmurs neutrally.

They walk inside, Candaith feeling a little ill at ease about the dwarf comment. But he shakes his head slightly. Elves are often like this.

Then he glances back at Shisui. "Perhaps," he agrees. "I am ever waiting for the right time for my chieftain to reclaim his rightful place, and for my brothers in arms to help him do it."

They're lead to a meeting room together, not simply let to roam as they go. Candaith raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps... there was an intention behind us both meeting," he surmises.