#Eru tell me

[tinyladyent]

Damn. So he is here.

I actually wished I wouldn't see Celeborn in tRoP. Seriously. Sincerely. Or with whatever word that tells my feeling.

Did they really have to make him alive? Okay, I was kidding. I'm quite happy to see him alive, with long silver hair, and... well. But the truth is, I don't want to watch it. I don't want him to be in that show, where Galadriel thought her husband is dead and then started to flirt with Sauron. It's totally ridiculous to be honest. And it pains me to see Celeborn in that universe.

After all, tRoP is not happening in Tolkien's Middle-Earth, and we know this. I'm not sure if I can love him while I can't even love the story.

[tathrin]

So I know this was last week's episode, but I am still not over the Círdan/Elrond conversation on the subject of "sometimes the author sucks, that doesn't mean the thing they made does too" because I guess the guy raised by Maedhros and Maglor would have somehow avoided learning that lesson already lmao because. I mean. I am assuming that legally they can't say Maglor, but. but.

I spent the whole conversation yelling "Maglor. Just say Maglor. You mean Maglor. JUST SAY MAGLOR!" at the television while my mom just kept looking over at me like I'd lost my mind (she likes watching geek stuff with me so I can giver her all the background details she doesn't know, so I always wait to watch these with her, which means she gets to suffer through moments like this without explanation until the episode finishes and it's time for an info-dump, poor mom! haha she loves it though).

And the fact that they instead subbed in DAERON had me laughing so fucking hard. Maglor would be SO MAD ahahahaha.

"Let me get this straight: you wanted to make a reference to me, on the topic of Problematic Creator Types, to my kidnap-victim/foster-son, but because you couldn't use me, you picked Daeron to name-drop instead? DAERON? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!?"

He would be so mad and a week later I still can't stop giggling.

[forerussake]

there’s so much talk about the gifted kid burnout narrative of ‘breezed through high school and then crashed and burned at uni bc they never learned to study’ but what about the ones (me) who breeze through uni but then crash and burn upon trying to enter the job market bc they never learned to be anything other than a student? help

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

#dang it do i have a new oc now

Sounds like!! I'd love to hear more if you've got it!

(referring to my tags on this post)

You will meet a stranger, sometimes, if you make a habit to frequent taverns, inns, halls for game, or even the one tree where the young Bracegirdle cousins sneak off to play marbles. Well, you will like as not meet many strangers, except in the last case, but this one will be different. Or perhaps you get lucky, and don't frequent such places, but find yourself in one unexpectedly, and meet them regardless.

Everyone in Gondor knows someone who knows someone who met Lady Luck, no one has met her themself. If you do, starry-eyed romantics say, you'll be blessed with good fortune for all your days. The pragmatists tell you you'll be blessed with the good sense to discern a scam.

He may smirk at you after winning a bet, some dark-haired man, using his earnings to buy a round for the bar. It's always a different man, but it always goes to Alwed's tab. It keeps the crowd from getting too rowdy, even if the more superstitious get on edge.

No one remembers meeting them the first time, but dwarves with common sense avoid Audr's shell games and silver-toothed smile- you always win, but it's never worth it.

A woman with greying-gold hair and stiff fingers might call herself Eadrun, and challenge you to a game of dice. Few decline, and far fewer win.

For as few elves remain in Middle Earth, the one who calls himself Herendil and laughs as though his name is a joke should be recognizable. He seems young and lighthearted in a way most have lost, but he will play you cards, win just as much as he loses, and disappear, never recognized.

A hobbit-lass may giggle, red curls gleaming in the sun, and introduce herself as Peony Sandheaver, her family is visiting from Bree, and she wants to see how Shire-hobbits play Jacks.

Sometimes an orc prays over a set of knucklebones, knowing that at least one god will hear one prayer. Orcs have little luck in battle, but uncanny luck with dice.

There are countless stories, just as many true as not. Countless names, far more unnamed figures, always just out of place enough wherever they are to be interesting and promise new tales, never enough to provoke suspicion, not at first.

Even those in the Blessed Realm may find this dark-eyed stranger. Always dark-eyed, like bottles of dark glass. They stop by Aulë's workshop on occasion, to learn and suggest and play new games. They never win the first round, but most have the sense not to bet anything they aren't willing to lose on the second.

Oromë's people call them Umbarnica with a laugh and a toast in welcome. They thrive in the drunken revels after a successful hunt, sharp as ever as they dance from game to game, cackling at ill-advised propositions offered as collateral for or against a bet. Usually this means them winning to avoid it, a frequent enough occurrence as-is, but every now and then they'll decide to let someone get lucky. The bragging rights are the real reward.

And there are no guarantees with this stranger. No way to ensure their favor, though many ways to get their attention, few good. They like irony, take pleasure in hubris reaching its fall. They love superstition, even if they don't always honor it, and they love stories. There are gods that can be mistaken for kind, they are not one of them, created to serve the king the Dark Lord could have been. Their favorites are fickle, their grudges subtle but long-held. They love cheaters, unless they're at the end of the attempt. They will always catch you, and you will always regret it. They slink through candle-shadows and pipe-smoke, grinning, dance in town squares turned to faire grounds, curl up on comfy chairs indoors on rainy days.

But sometimes, in these days, you won't meet a stranger at all. Sometimes your storyteller will get a bright-dark glint in their eyes, and some dice will roll strangely high and some dice will roll strangely low and either way the story will be better for it. And if the next time the group meets you need to take a moment to remind the storyteller exactly what happened last session, well. That's why you take notes.

So pray to the dice-god, card-master, quick-sighted. It might do you no good, but they love superstition, and they love stories. And when you play a dark-eyed stranger, don't cheat at cards.

[3bagshotrow]

middle-earth dashboard simulator

🏵 hobbitc0re Follow

pippin was 29 years old???

🏵 hobbitc0re Follow

he should've been at the green dragon

( 420 notes )

📸 daily-middle-earth-photos Follow

#gates of argonath #argonath #amon hen #middle earth landscapes #photographers of middle earth #travel #dark academia #lmao pls reblog this i almost fell out of my boat taking this photo

( 79 notes )

🦢 elfposting Follow

my hungry ass could never travel with lembas

( 9,839 notes )

🐟 sojuicysweet Follow

.

#the entitlement i see on this site sometimes is disgusting #y'all will just post about having easy access to lembas when we can't eats hobbit food??? #we must starve??? #vent #do not rb

( 3 notes )

🗡 shieldmaiden Follow

CALLOUT FOR GRIMA WORMTONGUE

I've talked a lot about this already on this blog, but I want to have everything collected in one post so next time some dipshit with a white hand icon slides into my inbox to call me a liar I can just link to this post. tl;dr grima wormtongue has been poisoning my uncle and the land of rohan for the past few years, and here are the receipts:

Keep reading

( 38 notes )

🧙‍♂️ bignaturals Follow

i stg if one more of you tells me I should've sent frodo on the eagles I'm asking iluvatar to take me back

( 1,930 notes )

📖 booknerdofbree Follow

recent read: there and back again: a hobbit's tale by bilbo baggins

I thought this was SOOO fun and cute! I'm usually not into rpf but did anyone else think there was something between bilbo and thorin? 👀 I can't be the only one who saw it. but the ending made me cry my eyes out.

4.5/5 stars

#booklr #there and back again #bilbo baggins #recent read #dark academia #light academia #book review

( 12 notes )

🌲 elvenking69 Follow

who up mirking they wood

( 58,274 notes )

🐛 manofsirith Follow

wtf the new king of gondor just bowed to these four random short guys?? everyone else bowed too and I just went along with it lmao 😅 am I missing something????

#this is right after he sang a song and made out with some hot elf chick #truly the wildest coronation i've ever been to

( 85 notes )

🥵 firstagebaddiebracket Follow

ULTIMATE HOTTEST FIRST AGE BADDIE TOURNAMENT FINALS!!!!

🔘 haldir-deactivated30190303

here y'all go again pitting two bad bitches against each other

🌀 aragornsbigtoe Follow

🌊 helcaraxebaby Follow

everyone who voted galadriel is a kinslayer apologist #luthiensweep

( 4,271 notes )

🔥 beaconboi Follow

fuck my job so much. everyone manifest an attack on gondor so I can finally warm my fingers on this beacon fire.

🔥 beaconboi Follow

by eru this can't be happening

( 38,386 notes )

[thesummerestsolstice]

Things that Absolutely Happened while M&M were Raising E&E:

Maglor keeps an ever-growing list of all the weird things they do and tries to figure out whether they're because the twins are part human or part maia. He is frequently wrong.

"Wait, how much do half-elves need to eat?" "I, uh... hmm."

All of the Feanorian followers get really attached to the kids. They regularly argue about who gets to babysit. This is the origin of Elrond's Feanorian Murder-Elf Posse™️.

"Maedhros you cannot give them real swords!" "Why not?" "They're eight!"

The entirety of Amon Ereb freaks out every time the twins get sick. Even if it's just a cold. Yes, they've had human healers tell them it's nothing serious. No, that does not reassure them.

"Just do what I did!" *the twins stare up at him* "Actually no that's terrible advice don't do that."

M&M waking up late at night to see one of the twins, eldritch, glowing, levitating a few inches off the ground and freaking out, only for the kid to be like "dads I threw up :("

E&E shapeshift and all the Feanorians panic because "Oh Eru we lost them!!" Only for them to emerge a few hours later, very confused about why all the adults look so worried

Maedhros makes dad jokes you cannot tell me otherwise

"Well on the other hand... oh wait!"

E&E also hide in Maedhros's cloak all the time

And of course

"NO OATHS!"

[anneangel]

Bilbo: It happens a lot? That you have to receive unexpected visitors? Elrond: … That moment when an unexpected visitor arrives at your house and you have to change your pleasant outfit for a more beautiful and uncomfortable one, and act polite and cordially? Bilbo: that's right, and it's not that I don't like receiving visitors, but I would like to meet them first and invite them myself, instead of them appearing out of nowhere without communicating or warning in advance. Elrond: And it's not enough to receive the inconvenient visit, you have to smile and offer your best hospitality. Bilbo: and yet the inconvenient visitor doesn't realize that they are being inconvenient, and still accept the food you offered because decorum dictates that you offer it, but you didn't really want to share it. Elrond: and we stand there, in the corner, thinking to yourself that our favorite part of the house we'd like to show off is- Elrond and Bilbo: the way out! Bilbo: finally someone who understands me! And when the visitors finally decides to leave we will wave and tell that they should stay a longer, even though in our thoughts we are thanking Eru, and all the Valar, for them finally leaving! It is not? Elrond: Yes, it's exactly like that. Now that we're on the same terms, on the same page, now that you understand… Uhh… You're not such a bad visitor, but… When you and your dwarves and wizard leaving? I already have the terrible feeling of anxiety that your friends 'll live here indefinitely. Bilbo: errr!

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 4

ROP Recap S02 E04

Galadriel: You still mad?

Elrond: Affirmative.

Galadriel: And I have to do what you tell me?

Elrond: Affirmative.

Galadriel: And we are going on foot for no particular reason?

Elrond: Affirmative.

Galadriel: Gonna be a long trip to Eregion.

Broken Bridge: Longer than you think.

--

Homeless Wizard: There’s goats here?

Tom Bombadil: And honey! And soap!

Homeless Wizard: What is soap?

Tom Bombadil: Catch! No, no, don’t eat it.

Tom Bombadil’s Wife: *is evident*

Homeless Wizard: Who else is here?

Tom Bombadil: I could answer but I prefer gaslighting and mind-fuckery.

Sauron: Hey, that’s my thing!

--

Hobbits: Oh look! Other hobbits!

Other Hobbits: Oh look! Other other hobbits!

Probably Not Saruman’s Minions: Surrender the superfluous hobbits!

Other Hobbits: Our bloodymindedness is inversely proportional to our height.

Minions: And we are helpless before it. 

--

Homeless Wizard: Will you be my Yoda?

Tom Bombadil: Remains to be seen.

Homeless Wizard: Is Sauron my father?

Tom Bombadil: Wrong franchise. 

--

Elrond: Let’s go via the Barrow Downs. In Elvish, they are called “Don’t Go, There Are Wights There.”

Wights: BOO!

Elf #3: Holy shit! There are Wights here! 

Elf #4: I would answer but they already ate me.

Galadriel: *stab-stab-stab*

Wights: LOL

Elrond: Actually, you have to use their own weapons.

Galadriel: Nobody likes a pedant, Elrond.

--

Theo: I don’t know who imprisoned me, but I’m more scared of my co-prisoners.

Isildur: Hang in there, we’re co….

Ent Wife: FUCK! THIS! NOISE!

Isildur: And now a homicidal talking tree. Great.

Ent Wife: I shall smite!

Arondir: *speaks elvish*

Ent Wife: Or I’ll just chill with my ent husband.

Isildur: Wow, that really calmed her down.

Arondir: Elvish is very soothing.

Isildur: It’s the dental fricatives, isn’t it?

Arondir: And the diphthongs.

--

Galadriel: You still mad?

Elrond: Affirmative.

Galadriel: *ring-induced hallucinations*

Elrond: You just flashed back to Hot Sauron again, didn’t you?

Galadriel: No! Not at all!

Elrond: The lady doth protest too much.

Shakespeare: Has this line been cleared with my estate?

--

Elf #3: I hear drums.

Elf # 5: Could be a rave.

Elrond: Could be Adar’s army.

Galadriel: Can I go back to being a commander now?

Elrond: I can check with Elf Principal.

Galadriel: Take good care of my precious.

Elrond: You want me to carry your evil jewellery? What about our previous conversations indicates to you that I would find this even remotely acceptable? I don’t want to hallucinate Hot Sauron!

Galadriel: Gotta go! Orcs to stab!

Elf #3: She’s really focused.

Elrond: Eru help us.

--

Orc Daddy: A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Lady Galadriel.

Lady Galadriel: Oh fuck.

---

More recaps:

Season 2, Episode 1

Season 2, Episode 2

Season 2, Episode 3

[fili-urzudel]

Second - Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Summary: The reader realizes something about Thorin's priorities.

Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 0.8 k

Warnings: slight cultural misunderstandings, a little heartache

"Thorin!" You called with a smile, striding towards him at your usual meeting place. It was just a forgotten, low stone wall among an even more forgotten old plot of land. But it had a great view of the sunset, and sitting against it kept the wind out on cold days. It had become one of your favorite places.

He called back to you, a faint grin accompanying it. "You're late."

"Perhaps you're early," you pointed out, jumping up to sit on the wall next to him. 

He gave one short chuckle.

"You seem preoccupied," you commented, trying to keep the comment light.

Thorin sighed through that long, angular nose of his. "I turn one-hundred years of age today," he stated. 

"I know," you said, drawing a small package from your bag. "Congratulations."

He swallowed. "It's been seventy-six years now, since I saw my home. The ravens still have not returned to the mountain."

Your brow furrowed. "Thorin, maybe it's best not to focus too much on that," you consoled. "Focus on living your life well and fully now, instead of just... waiting for that day," you said, instead of a day that may never come in your lifetime.

He didn't respond. "Here," you passed the package to him, pressing it into his palm. 

"What is it?"

You smiled dryly. "Open it and find out."

Thorin studied the round silver object. It looked almost like a ring—that meant something to most men. Or perhaps a bead—which definitely meant something to dwarves—but it was neither, having a narrow incision through it. "What is it?" He asked again.

"It's an ear cuff," you smiled. "I know that most dwarves like jewelry, but a ring or a necklace didn't seem right, and I don't know if you have piercings..." you trailed off. "So I figured an ear cuff could be a good compromise. I tried my best to sort of make it match your beads."

Thorin hoped his face didn't look as warm as it felt. 

To you, it appeared his mind was still far away from you. "Here, I can help you put it on." You turned to straddle the wall, brushing his hair away from his ear. 

Thorin tried his best not to shudder.

"Tell me about something," you requested. 

"Like what?" He tried to keep his voice even as you didn't drop his hair once the cool metal was wrapped into the shell of his ear. You ran your fingers through it instead, gently untangling the knots, your knuckles brushing his shoulder.

"I don't know, something important to you," you suggested, and he swallowed. Would he be able to tell you what hair meant to his people? To him? Would you stop? "Tell me about your creator."

He swallowed. "I suppose... Where to begin? Aule was one of the Valar, and Eru was the only one allowed to create life..."

You listened intently, humming with understanding, until at some point the sun was very nearly set and Thorin's head was in your lap. You didn't know how he had gotten there, only that you had never stopped running your fingers through his hair and he had never told you to. You thought you could stay like that forever.

"Do you remember what Erebor was like?" You asked, filling the silence after he told you about how the dwarves had only narrowly escaped being removed from existence. You felt him tense.

"No," he said, and it sounded as though he had never admitted that to anyone. "I was a child when it happened. I... I see glimpses, but... I don't remember what it was really like, aside from what I've been told."

You brushed another piece of hair out of his eyes after the wind had put it out of place. "And yet you still love it."

Thorin breathed for a moment before answering. "I do."

"You would do anything for a homeland that you hardly even remember?"

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes. "Perhaps it is not the Lonely Mountain that I love. It is my people. They deserve to have their home back. They deserve for revenge to be exacted on Smaug."

"You would do anything for your people," you said, and it was no question.

"Anything."

And me? You couldn't bring yourself to ask. You withdrew your fingers from his hair, balancing on the stones again. "I admire that about you."

Thorin sensed the shift in your tone. His eyes blinked open again, piercing blue staring into your eyes. "Have you ever had something that you would die for?"

"Die for?" You repeated softly, fidgeting with your fingernails. You gazed back at him, unable to look anywhere else. "Worse, I think. Something that I would live for."

[soleilars]

LOVE TO THINK YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

୨୧ the one where jason grace wakes up different.

summary: mountain, giants, romans, swords. those are the last moments jason can recall after waking up. sadly, your relationship seems not to be included in your boyfriend’s memory.

pairing: jason grace x fem!reader

warnings: hurt with no comfort.

a/n: idk if everyone who liked the previous post about tags wanted in fact to be tagged but i assumed so, if not lmk!

“jason, i love you but this isn’t funny anymore”

fate must be pulling some kind of joke on him.

first; he wakes up in a random bus surround by noisy kids. soon after the girl besides him (who he never saw before) starts talking to him like they know each other and now she tells him she loves him? something isn’t right. before he had time to process an answer a boy appeared in the seat in front of him, staring at him with a funny look on his face like they were sharing an inside joke.

“who are you?” finally! someone’s in the same situation as him. ok, he needs to find out how he and this boy got here. now…

“come on jase, this one is a classic! you’re really trying to pull that one? ‘fraid it won’t work, bud” nope, he’s alone.

this was definitely getting annoying now. haha, funny now stop, was what you wanted to say. jason wasn’t like this. he’d never pretend not to know you. he said it himself once, joking or not. what made he change his mind now? your boyfriend was peacefully asleep on your lap one moment now and suddenly he seemed scared of your touch.

“jason, i’m serious stop it. this isn’t funny” you shot him your most severe gaze, one you tried really hard to achieve giving the fact that tears were forming on your eyes. which jason didn’t let pass by.

“i- please don’t cry. i swear on the…” he seemed a little lost for a moment, more than he was before if that’s possible “i never saw neither of you before. can you please tell me where we’re going?”

what was happening to him? he knew how much you hated this kind of jokes given your own grandfather slowly forgot you given to his sickness at an advanced age.

this was just cruelty this point. you wondered what would be his breaking point. seeing you cry? yelling at him to stop? threatening to break up? leaving him alone and sitting on an empty seat?

jason grace isn’t mean at this point. you knew it. you knew him.

“i’m sorry this seems like a terrible question right now but what am i to you?”

his hand carefully touched your shoulder, dragging you from your own mind only to process the indeed terrible question he just asked.

“my boyfriend? jase, i don’t get why are you doing this?”

leo who had remained silent decided to speak up for his, or maybe not, friend.

“(name), i don’t think he’s joking anymore,” he was quick to continue before you could cut him off. “he looks absolutely mortified, i mean come on! the guy is pale as a piece of paper.”

you swore you could hear jason mumbling a thank you, but you also swore the guy sitting besides you was your boyfriend. suddenly you can’t trust yourself anymore. was it all in your head? no, leo was there too. he remembers. silence overtook the three of you, silence that was broken by leo once again.

“maybe… it just wasn’t real”

“don’t say that. it was real,” you cried, the tears finally streaming down your face “it was real to me.”

once again you were sure jason would say something, comforting or not but was interrupted by coach’s hedge screaming, then he said. amongst the chaos of people leaving the bus and others yelling at one another.

“it’s time to go.”

tags: @lordofthefrogs11 @heylookwhoitis @loverangels @brunettebitchthatwrites @shxd0wtree @thewhispersofthewaves @rue-eru @helloimamistake @123letsgobestie @sunshine-of-ur-life @aprils-artwork @ifyouknowmeyoudonot @daeronthedaringshoe @autumnnyx12 @justwritingforfun @lovialy @1853cassie @spvilers @metyouattherighttime @enehana @solstices-dreams @lovesickhozierfan

[doodle-pops]

For Pride or Joy

Fingon x reader

Warnings: nothing, it’s all fluff

Words: 700

Synopsis: You make a daring bet with Fingon.

“You really wish to make that bet with me? You know I’ll win, right?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his sapphire eyes. Head tilted and lips tugged to form a smirk, he awaited your negative response as expected since the beginning of the argument.

With a lame scoff, you rolled your eyes and looked away from his childish antics. You didn’t understand his persistence when everyone, even Eru knew he would fail from the start. However, failure was never an attribute of Fingon, and you wonder what he would look like should it have happened. Darting your eyes at him with sinister intent behind them, you grinned innocently and held out your hand for him to shake. “Loser has to do everything the winner demands?”

Without skipping a beat, his larger hands gripped you in a firm handshake while his grin mimicked yours. “Deal.”

**

Fingon wanted to drown himself in the vat of wine he stood before as thoughts of his foolishness for agreeing to your bet hurled across his mind. What would he do to have someone take him out of his misery?

You were standing on the opposite side of the room gossiping with your friends and laughing at Eru knows what concerning the latest drama in Tirion. He felt like you were mocking him as you were for the last five hours. Your necklace fell perfectly against your neck; you insisted on wearing the one gifted to you by him at the beginning of your courtship. The way you smiled with your pretty wine-stained lips, batting your lashes at him from the corner of your eyes when no one was looking.

In this moment, you were his agony. And all because of that foolish bet…and his foolishness.

“You’re a very physically affectionate person Finno. I doubt you can survive for five seconds without touching some part of me.”

He scoffed. It grew worse when he realised what ‘no physical interactions’ meant when he came to visit you this morning to whisk you away for the family dinner. You walked past him without sparing him a ‘hello kiss’ or a ‘good morning darling kiss’ and rushed to the carriage. He crumpled to his knees and almost rushed to cling to your legs when you broke the second rule to him.

“No physical interactions mean no kissing as well Finno. You of all people should know that Prince Touchy.”

You were the cruellest person to walk the earth, and to be paired with you as his lover. A curse! A nightmare! The world was coming to an end, and he could really do with drowning himself in that vat of wine at that moment. All his siblings and cousins were busy engaging with their beloveds and placing kisses upon their cheeks and hands while he had to watch like a loser. Many of them had paraded to his side to inquire if he was alright the entire day while he ground his teeth and squeezed out positive responses.

“Pouting does not suit you, darling.” He whipped around at the sound of your voice goading him in the festivities of his family. “It appears as though you might cry any minute for whatever is the matter. Handkerchief?”

He exhaled and rolled his eyes, not the common expression for his mirth personality. “Mock me all you want, I will win,” he declared and took a sip of his wine. “However, I am thrilled to have this competition, for now I know you are far too mean and sly. Tell me, why must you take it so far and deny me what I love the most?!”

“To prove me right when I said you adore physical affection like your existence depends on it,” you sniggered and gave him a smug look. “There’s nothing wrong with losing to me. I’m your lover, so it’s also a plus. Or does your pride refuse your ability to accept defeat?”

“Defeat does not exist in the life of Prince Findekáno, sweetheart. I will win even if today is just day one, I will win,” he confidently boasted with his head high and chin jutting out, refusing to accept your alleged statements about his natural habit.

Though, he was quick to succumb to his losses two hours later after you accidentally bumped your shoulder against his, urging him to engulf you into a hug on the dancefloor and swearing about not giving a damn about the bet when holding you was more important.

Masterlist

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[acommonanomaly]

Caranthir for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

“What is it, Moryo?” Maitimo finally asked, when Carnistir showed no sign that he would continue on his own.

“It is not fair that grandmother Miriel cannot return,” his said, his voice faltering as though he was admitting something very grave. The source of his solemnity was revealed when he continued, “If grandfather Finwë had not married Indis, then she could be with us.”

Makalaurë sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes were heavy when they met Maitimo’s. Neither of them spoke at first, for each of them had their own conflicting emotions to sort through at the raising of this issue. But when Carnistir shrank down on the stool as if fearing their censure, they pulled themselves together.

Maitimo’s voice grew delicate, each word formed with care. “Although you may find them tiresome at times, would you wish that your uncles and cousins did not exist at all?”

Carnistir’s flushed cheeks paled. “No, I wouldn’t wish that.”

“So some good did come of it, you see.”

“But we will never meet our grandmother Miriel.”

“Oh, Moryo,” Makalaurë said tenderly. “It seems strange to miss someone you have never met, but so it is, and we miss her, too, and long for what might have been.”

Maitimo nodded in agreement with Makalaurë, but he was troubled. He could not help but feel as if he had been dishonest with Carnistir, somehow.

Although he did not regret that his grandfather had been allowed to remarry, allowing their family to grow and become enriched, he felt it an unnecessary cruelty that his grandmother should be forbidden to return because of it. The Valar claimed it was the will of Eru, and though it was not Maitimo’s place to gainsay them, he did wonder how this could be true because of the grief it caused. 

It was while Maitimo stood lost in his thoughts that Carnistir finally unburdened himself.

“I did something very wrong.” Carnistir would look at neither of his brothers, dropping his head again as he stroked the cat.

Maitimo raised his eyebrows at Makalaurë, who only shrugged. He tried to keep his trepidation out of his voice when he spoke.

“What did you do?”

At the same time, Makalaurë asked, “You mean, to those children?”

Carnistir shook his head. “I took something from Atar’s study.”

Maitimo’s eyebrows rose even higher, and Makalaurë gaped in surprise, but as it was obvious that Carnistir meant to go on, they said nothing.

Carnistir sighed and shifted on the stool, careful not to tip the cat off his lap as he reached into one of the pockets stitched onto his loose tunic. He pulled out a silver chain, lifting it until a large oval locket slipped out of the pocket and hung spinning in the air.

“Oh,” Makalaurë said.

They knew this locket well. They had all seen Atar holding it in his study when the occasional quiet, somber mood came over him. At some time or another, each of them had opened the locket to see for themselves what it held, or asked Atar to show them. It contained a miniature portrait of Miriel and a twisted lock of silver hair that glinted like starlight.

“I just wanted to feel closer to grandmother Miriel. But now I am worried that Atar will notice the locket is gone before I can put it back, and he will be angry with me.”

“I don’t think Atar will be angry with you for taking this, especially once he understands why you took it,” Maitimo hurried to reassure his little brother. “You must give it back to him as soon as we return home, of course, but I will talk to him first before you go to see him.”

Maitimo would have to decide how much to tell Atar, because he did not wish to upset him any more than he had to. 

He didn’t think the children who had questioned Carnistir meant any harm, likely only curious and repeating things they had heard adults say. It was unfortunate timing that their questioning had come while Carnistir was struggling with personal issues.

Makalaure seemed satisfied with this, and he stood, gesturing for Carnistir to stand as well. “I think Nelyo is right. Atar will be pleased that you wish to feel closer to grandmother Miriel. Perhaps you could take up embroidery, and learn the skill that was her delight.”

Carnistir stood and set the cat on the floor, where it wound around his legs and meowed in complaint. Determination burned in Carnistir’s eyes now, and he said, “Yes, I would like that.”

[wilwarin-wilwa]

have the urge to ask about your thoughts on maedhros, particular or otherwise

*vibrating with giddiness* where do i even start!!!!

it's no wonder that he's a fan-favorite. it's not just about him being good-looking and tragic (because that applies to most of the characters haha) but it's about how well-written and compelling his arc is. it's the embodiment of this part of the doom of mandos: "to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well".

from the moment he ALONE refuses to burn the ships to the time he ALONE searches for elurid and elurin, he stands out among his brothers as The Good Feanorion. his defining characteristic throughout almost the entirety of the silmarillion is that he tries to be an honorable person, to do things the right way, to fix what his father broke and minimize the harm of the oath. he holds on to that determination for so long, but despite his best efforts, he fails and fails and fails.

and then the third kinslaying happens and maglor has a mom-said-it's-my-turn-on-the-moral-compass moment and it's like the last remnant of goodness in maedhros has been snuffed out. he has no more hope or willpower left in him. and it is SO !! because there used to be so much of it in him!!! but he's the one who willingly lets go of it. he becomes convinced that everything good he ever did was in vain (i want to shake him by the shoulders and tell him that it is NOT) so there's no point in trying anymore. it pains me that he thought it impossible that eru could release them from the oath or that their crimes could ever be forgiven. his despair became his downfall, and that ties in well with the recurring theme of hope in tolkien's works.

i'm not sure if you might be referring to this post of mine but here you go anyway: i like to imagine a scene in which maglor snaps at maedhros after the second-kinslaying. he resents maedhros for agreeing to it and letting it happen in the first place, and he resents maedhros for leaving him to deal with the aftermath of it (e.g. burying the dead) while maedhros himself goes on his hopeless search for dior's children. i guess it was a moment of weakness for maglor in which the combination of guilt, grief, horror, and anger overwhelms him, and he takes it out on the nearest target. he can't take it out on celegorm, who came up with the idea, because celegorm is dead. and i think that after the third kinslaying, maedhros envies maglor. he envies maglor for being able to save elrond and elros (unlike his own failure to save their uncles) and he envies maglor's ability to still experience hope and compassion. but the only reason maglor still has those things is because he wasn't the one trying and trying and trying and experiencing soul-crushing failure every time.

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

"Erestor!"

The call came… oddly pronounced, which was perhaps what made Erestor turn towards the noisy hall. He tended to avoid the Hall of Fire on evenings such as this, when the brisk air called for the inhabitants of the valley to gather around the fires, keeping warm and making merry.

He was not necessarily surprised to find Glorfindel with the usual group of Elves: Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Galadir from the guard, among others. Lindir, often the leader when it came to mischief, waved and smiled his innocent smile at Erestor—which, of course, had Erestor instantly suspicious.

"Erestor, you have to help me,” implored Glorfindel, stretching his arms as Erestor neared their table. As though the slight slur in his words wasn't a clue, there was also a telling flush on his cheeks where it caught the light. “I am being made fun of and I do not care for it!”

Erestor stopped to stand on Glorfindel's side of the benches, though he pointedly stayed out of reach of those—just what is Glorfindel doing?

“Hands off the robe, Glorfindel,” he admonished, swatting at the hands reaching for his robes. “What is this that you are complaining about this time?”

“These terrible trolls! Sorry excuse for friends!” Glorfindel made a clumsy kind of wave at the Elves around him, who only snickered amongst themselves. “They have been teasing me all evening!”

“To be fair, Master Erestor,” said Elladan, “we do that most evenings.”

“As I thought,” said Erestor, looking back down at Glorfindel, “which is why I am wondering what could be so terrible this time."

If possible, the flush on Glorfindel's cheeks grew higher as he declared, affronted: “They said I will never marry!"

The laughter from the other Elves was on cue. It was just as well that they were all distracted, for Erestor did not join in on their amusement, and instead had grown quite still.

It took a moment for him to respond, and when did, it was a careful: "I did not know you wanted to marry.”

"Well, I do!”

Another moment, then a quieter, "I see."

"But they said!” Glorfindel cried again, oblivious to the racing thoughts his sudden claim caused within his oldest friend. “They said that I couldn't, and do you know why? Because they said you obviously do not plan to marry ever, to which I said, no! No! They cannot very well know that about you, can they? Unless you have told them—”

"Eru forbid."

"Right? So I said—"

"Why exactly am I involved in this equation?"

Glorfindel looked up at Erestor as though this was a very silly question. "Why wouldn't you be? There is no one else I want to marry, is there? But then if you are not intent on marrying, then obviously I cannot get married either."

Erestor took a moment again—a different kind of moment, this time around. “O-Oh. Obviously."

He glanced at the other Elves around the table, who this time conveniently found something of interest on the floor, on the ceiling, or on their nails while the two of them were speaking. Erestor picked up the vessel nearest to Glorfindel. "Is this your cup?"

"Aye! Good stuff.”

"Hm. Potent, too. I thought you do not drink?"

"I don't."

"You are as drunk as a Dwarf."

"I resent that,” said Glorfindel with a—oh, by the Valar—a pout. "You said there is nothing attractive about Dwarves."

“I have said no such thing.”

“Erestor!” This time, Glorfindel looked distressed. “Are you saying you are, in fact, attracted to Dwarves?”

By this point, Erestor could no longer resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, but what I can say is that there is nothing attractive about this picture either."

“Oooh,” Lindir finally chimed. “Harsh.”

[ponury-grajek]

Hi! I just need to tell you that your eru/zevi give me life and I love you. (//o//) *runs away*

AAAA, I'M SO SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT >v< THANK YOU!

[the-red-butterfly]

Wont You Say Anything?

Manwë & Varda (Tolkien universe)

Day 6: Fallen | Storm @manweweek

Please beloved, tell me what is wrong? Please, my lord. Why won't you say anything? My Love? Manwë?

This is technically a continuation of this comic strip -> Eru's Instrument I did it a year or two ago? In it Manwë has a not so good, very bad day because of daddy dearest.

This is technically the third part of this whole thing BUT, where's the second part you might be asking? If that comic is the fist? Well, the second part is supposed to be another comic but i haven't actually drawn it 😬 But it's planned at least? I'll happen eventually? So yay?

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Open for Commissions