#khazad-dûm looks STUNNING!!!!

[secondageweek]

Hello everyone!

For the second time we have decided to host this week to show our love and appreciation for the Second Age in all its facets. From proud Númenoreans to deep digging Dwarves, to the last High King of the Noldor, and the Dark Lord of Mordor - this week is dedicated to all of them and more!

A list of non-mandatory prompts below:

Day 1 Elves - Gil-galad, Oropher, Celebrían and many others - Lindon and Belfalas, Imladris and Eregion, Lórinand and Greenwood. What were the elves doing in the Second Age?

Day 2 Men - On this day of Second Age Week, we explore the race of Men - from proud Númenoreans, through those who would come to be known as Dunlendings, to the Haradrim in the South.

Day 3 Dwarves - From Ered Luin through Khazad Dûm to the Eastern Realms, dwarves played an important role during the Second Age. On this day you can explore their history and culture, events they participated in, prominent characters such as Durin IV. or Narvi and more!

Day 4 Sauron and his minions - With his lies and deceits, Sauron spent the Second Age weaving his way across Middle Earth and started a reign of terror from his fortress in Mordor. This day is dedicated to him and his many followers.

Day 5 Worldbuilding - Rings of Power and the White Tree, faraway lands, countless battles - Middle Earth has a rich history and stunning locations to explore.

Day 6 Original Characters - An unnamed wife of a king of Númenor, a guardsman from Lindon - who are they? What are they up to? On this day the spotlight is given to characters outside of the narrative focus.

Day 7 Freeform - Did we forget about something or is there a prompt you want to revisit? Feel free to use this day for any Second Age related content!

The week will run during January 2023 - 9th to 15th - and will be hosted by @tilions​ and @armenelols. ​ We will operate in a mixture of queued posts and direct reblogs.

To note:

Tag your work #secondageweek in the first five tags of your post and tag us @secondageweek so we can find your post

Should your post not be reblogged, feel free to send us an ask or a message

The same goes with all problems and questions; the ask box is open!

All kinds of content are allowed - fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, meta, edits, etc

For NSFW content and such, please tag your work accordingly.

We are looking forward to your creations!

[multiverse-aesthetic]

• chapter 5: Things get tough and I don't know why (pt.2)

A/n: the pic is edited by Me , you can't copy my work , if you share any parts of my fanfic on any kind of applications please give credit ..

Warning: grief, mention of death.

*****************************

Aurora P.O.V

After a long walk in the dark mountain we stood waiting nervously while Gandalf sits,

staring intently at the 3 tunnel mouths in front of him.

I was pacing around the place well I was worried

"You are worrying too much , we walk out and nothing will happen" boromir told me

I gave him a nod but still did not sit down

"Oh I remember" Gandalf suddenly spoke "it's this way" he added

We went the way the Gandalf lead us to , which was more darker, bringing my powers to light the way.

We got inside a room where there was a tomb of the king

Gandalf stood there taking a book from a Corp and reading how the goblins took over the place and Suddenly we heard a thud

We freeze in stunned silence as the armored skeleton

clatters down the deep well ... echoing loudly!

Gandalf turns angrily on pippin

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!"

And with that we heard a fast running feets

"Orcs!" Legolas said

quickly boromir and Aragorn slam and wedge the doors

"They have a cave troll" boromir said

"Well that's just great" I said sarcasticly

We stood in positions weapons in hand and suddenly the door burst open and a thousands of orcs comes in , and a huge cave troll comes in

"Do not worry I've got the troll" I said as I flew up against the troll blasting my powers at his head trying to knock him out everyone fighting the orcs that are in the ground

from my hight I blast powers at the orcs helping them out .

"Thank you witchy" boromir yelled up at me I gave him a small nod .

The troll then tries to knock me down with his weapon I take quickly from afar controlling it with my powers

"thank you for that" I said and l hit him in the head making him tumble

"Watch out!" I said as the troll was about to fall and with a thud he fell down killing most of the orcs down there

"Uh , I do not know if you're seeing this , but there's more coming" I warned them

"To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm

Quick!" Gandalf said

We hurry towards a distant door as goblins following us surrounding us in I saw a fiery light dances down the hallway

"What is this new devilry?"

"A Balrog a demon of the ancient world" gandalf said quietly

"And that's what I feared, waking up" I said frightened

-------------------------------

Third person P.O.V

They finally reached the bridge and Gandalf was fighting balrog

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf yelled hitting his staff on the ground making the balrog fall but The thongs of the whip lash and curl around

Gandalf's knees, dragging him over the brink! As Aurora was about to ran to him boromir held her form her arm bringing her back

"Gandalf!" she yelled

"Fly you fools" he said and with that he fell down into the shadows

She stood in there in shook tears in her eyes

"come on we need to get out of here" boromir said softly dragging her out with him.

as soon she got out she fell to the ground as everyone else did

Everyone was sobbing at the loss of Gandalf.

"Iegolas get them up" Argorn said urgently

"Gave them a moment for pity's sake" boromir said

"By nightfall these hills will be

swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien." Aragorn told him.

Aurora was sitting down looking at her hands crying "why do I have this stupid powers if I can not save anyone?" she said to herself

"Come on little ones" boromir said as he helped them to get up

Legolas went to Aurora

"On your feet Aurora" he said as he help her up

"I could have saved him" she said crying

"No , no one could have done that, it's alright I have got you" he said as he rubbed her back and guiding her forward to continue their journey to the woods of Lothlórien.

--------------------------------

After they rested the night in lothlórien they started their journey again as we were in the boats Aurora noticed something hiding in the waters

"Who is that?" she asks Aragorn

"That is gollum he has tracked since moria I had hope that we would lose him in the river" he says

She nods her head listening to him , they finally reached the land

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot we approach Mordor from the North" Aragorn explains

"I suggest you take some rest to gather your strength" he says as the fellowship sat down making some food Aurora was sat her head against a tree resting her eyes legolas and Aragorn were talking .

"Where's frodo?" Merry suddenly spoke they all look around searching for frodo

"Where's boromir?" Aurora says standing up quickly she saw that he left his armor "oh no no" she says quickly running in the woods trying to find boromir Aurora running through the woods until she had found him

"boromir let frodo go" she says firmly

"I'm a no thief" he says

"you are not yourself" she says as she had her powers in her hands

Frodo put on the ring "Frodo wait!" she says as she was running to him but suddenly he disappeared kicking boromir and ran

"What have you done?" she says to boromir in a stern voice

He just looked and her observing she left getting back to the others

"Frodo he - he left I don't know where but he left" she says breathing heavily cause of the running

"And - and I saw like pack of orcs" she explains

"that is what I have been seeing" legolas said

"Where did Frodo go ?" Argorn asks her "I don't know he put the ring on" she says

Aragorn quickly went into the forest

"Here" legolas says as he past me the water

"Oh thank you" she says as she accept his offer

The sounds of the orcs is loud Aurora flies high enough to see the roads seeing Aragorn fighting and boromir fighting on the side of the woods

"legolas, gimili get to Argorn I'll go to boromir" Aurora said shouting to them

"We will go with you" merry and pippin said

"Follow me" she said as everyone went into their ways Aurora, merry and pippin got to boromir

She flew down blasting her powers at the orcs , merry and pippin also fighting

"Though you might need a help from your witchy" I say to boromir smiling at him as I reached my hand out for him he accepted it and got up

"I'm sorry for what I've done earlier" he said I turned as I flied an orc away as he was about to attack

"nothing to apologize for we need to fight these things first" I say as we started to fight again.

Many Uruk-hai fall to boromir's sword as he tries to

protect merry and pippin

"Run run!" Aurora says urgently to them as a black arrow hits boromir in the chest but he got up and fought again Aurora went to stand with boromir fighting again until

one big orc came Infront of them Aurora tried to knock him down but he hit her with his arms making her fall to the ground

And he hit boromir with a black arrow he tried to get up but he hit again with a final black arrow making him fall to the ground

Aurora got up fighting the orc again as boromir lied on the ground

Until she saw merry and pippin taken away

"No!" she screamed flying after them trying to free them form the orcs but they were stronger

But Argorn came quickly to fight the rest as she flew down to get to boromir she sat Infront of them tears in her eyes

Tracing her hand over the wounds trying to remove the arrows

"Leave them" he said firmly

"It's alright" he said reassuring her

"No no it's not alright, this isn't right" she says as tears streamed down her face

"It should not be you" she says crying

"I'm sorry I was to blind to see , I'm sorry for what I said to you in the council" he says taking her hand in his

She shook her head "no it's alright, you didn't say anything"

"You should not be here , you are too young to see those things" he says sympathetically

Aragorn was still fighting the orc leader until he killed him until he came to boromir I got up still crying I backed away from him as Argorn sat with him.

Legolas and gimili finally arrived

Aurora stood there looking at her hands as she saw her hands covered in blood cause of his wounds she suddenly flew back to the river.

The others started to go back to the river as they saw Aurora sat there trying to clean her hands

She sensed their present legolas went as knelt next to her

"His blood were on my hands-" she says voice breaking at the end she turned her face from legolas and let out a deep sight

"His blood were -" she cut herself as she let out a sob

"I tried to save him I swear" she says quietly

"I know" legolas said as he patted her shoulders lightly

"We need to get going" he says gently as he got up and went to Argorn and gimli

"it has all been in vain the Fellowship has failed" gimili said

Aurora got up whipping her tears and took a deep breath as she joined them

"Not if we hold True to each other" Aragorn said

"We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to Ptorment and death, not while we have strength left" he added as he pulled a hunting knife out of his pack

"Let's hunt some orcs"

****************************

How do you like the story so far , if there anything let me know, an don't worry the story is getting to the exciting parts !

[rowan-guerrins]

hey how in the fuck are there two durins at once.

[roselightfairy]

For @carlandrea, who prompted Thranduil + Gimli. I don’t know exactly what I was intending with this, and I have no idea if it makes narrative or emotional sense, but... it’s all for the Atmosphere, baby. Just go with it.

...

Legolas was not often called away for duties when they visited Eryn Lasgalen – not since he had removed to Ithilien and taken the better part of his unit of archers with him. Though he remained yet a prince of Eryn Lasgalen in name, he was lord of Ithilien in deed and in duty, and was treated as such when he returned home.

By his father, at least. His sister had no such reservations, either in the enthusiasm of her greeting or her requests for him upon arrival. She had asked him to accompany her on a brief scouting mission, and – whether out of guilt for having robbed Lasgalen of its most skilled archers, or desire for her company, Gimli knew not – he had agreed. The journey was meant to take them only perhaps a day and a night, and in the meantime Gimli wandered the halls alone.

He had accustomed himself quickly to the caverns where the elves lived: he could find his way under stone well enough, no matter who else might inhabit it. Still, they felt strange to him – instead of the thrumming of warmth that dwarven homes always awoke in his chest – the long-awaited welcome of Erebor; the glorious thrill of Aglarond – these halls rang with an empty loneliness, an ache in his chest as of a missing piece, some long-held sadness. The closest he could come to comparing it was the dimmed ancient glory of Khazad-dûm, but even that was not quite right – there was a diminishing in these halls, an echo of emptiness not of a grandeur now lost, but of a hope never fulfilled. It echoed in his chest, in the sound of his footsteps, flickered in the shadows of ivy on the walls, illuminated by torchlight; it swept across his face in the breeze from the wide windows and skylights.

The halls of Eryn Lasgalen were quiet at night. Elves slept little, so Gimli would have expected bustling, but any reveling that occurred took place out under the stars, and he supposed even elves needed to rest at times. His footsteps were loud on the stone floors, the solid step of a dwarf accustomed to walking where he would, though it felt strangely illicit here, where so few dwarves had been welcome. Gimli was given the freedom to roam where he would in his husband’s home, where his father had been locked away merely for setting foot in the forest, and he felt almost guilty for it, as though he dishonored his father’s trials with every step.

His wandering footsteps took him around a corner, up a set of spiraling steps, and he found himself in a shaded alcove hung with ivy and berries he dared not touch, against a window cut into the stone that looked out over the forest. Gimli folded his arms on the sill and gazed out, noting the rustle of leaves in the darkness, of lights in the distance where elves must be dancing and drinking. He wondered where Legolas was, out there in the forest, beneath the shaded boughs – or among them.

“May I join you?”

The voice came from behind him, practically in his ear; Gimli whirled, nearly choking on his spiking heartbeat. Legolas’s father stood behind him, not as close as he had sounded but still far nearer than he ought to be, for how silently he had approached. He had forgone the crown of leaves tonight; his golden hair streamed loose down his back, and he wore a simple green tunic and a faintly amused smile.

“Of course you may,” said Gimli, his voice rasping as he recovered his breath. “I would not turn you away anywhere in your own halls.”

Thranduil tilted his head as if in acknowledgement of that point and came to join Gimli in gazing out the windows. He left a respectable few inches of space between them, but still Gimli rarely stood so near to Legolas’s father; his nerves hummed in acute awareness of their proximity.

It was silent for a time, and then Thranduil spoke again. “I am sorry to startle you.”

There was just enough upward lilt in his voice, something lighter beneath the dry deadpan, that Gimli risked a flicker of his eyes to the side, a slight incline of his head. “Forgive me, your majesty,” he said, “but I do not think you are.”

Thranduil laughed openly at that, and Gimli restrained a startle at the sound. “Perhaps not,” he allowed. “Sometimes, the temptation to ensure that one has not lost one’s touch is simply . . . irresistible.”

“Perhaps particularly when one is approaching one’s son-in-law?” Gimli suggested, equally dry, and was rewarded with another laugh.

Thranduil’s laughter was more restrained than Legolas’s or even Laerwen’s, as though he were waiting for another punchline, but still the rare mirth felt like a gift – like a sign of favor. “Perhaps,” he said, his smile fading as he turned again out the window. His long fingers came to rest on the sill as though it were an organ and he meant to launch into a piece of music. Like spider legs, Gimli would have once thought them – such was the phrase often used to describe Thranduil in Erebor – in exaggerated tales told after a few drinks only, for Dáin would not condone it. But still it was whispered: the lord of the spiders at the center of a web of greed and deceit.

It was an epithet Gimli would never use again – not after seeing the hatred in Legolas’s eyes when he spoke of the spiders and what all they had taken from his people and his family.

Silence fell between them, but it was not a silence Gimli could read like he could Legolas’s – he knew not whether to speak and break it, or to let it stretch. In absence of intuition, stretch it did, long and taut until something felt about to snap, and finally he could bear it no longer.

“Your halls are beautiful,” he offered, cringing even as the words left his lips. But he had begun, and so he must continue. “The design is like nothing I have seen before.”

“That means much, coming from a dwarf of Erebor,” said Thranduil. His lips pursed, then relaxed. “But even we of the woods make do, when we must.” He gazed out the window again, and Gimli too turned to look out over the woods, the patches of trees light with revelers. He wondered what Thranduil could hear.

Thranduil’s face remained as unreadable as ever, but something in his stance, in the tilt of his head, reminded Gimli abruptly of how Legolas stood when he looked at Ithilien, at the homes elves had built in trees, reveling in their newfound safety. “I know something of making do,” he said slowly. “But I do not think the creation of something beautiful is wholly a loss, even if it comes from sorrow.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could speak further, unsure whose painful memories he might rouse with these words – Thranduil’s, or his own.

Thranduil turned to look sharply at Gimli, his eyes keen as though measuring him. It was not the penetrating stare of the Lady Galadriel, but still Gimli felt somehow tested in his gaze, those cool grey eyes like steel raking over his body. When Thranduil looked away at last, he could not say if he had been found wanting.

“You are more right than even you know, maybe,” Thranduil said at last. “But I will hope for your sake and for Legolas’s that you need never resign yourself to it.” He sighed, and for just a moment his hands tightened their grip on the windowsill, his knuckles flashing white beneath his skin – and then, as though Gimli had imagined it, they were loose again, resting against the stone like on organ keys.

As Gimli floundered for a response, Thranduil straightened beside him, a wave passing through his spine to draw him up even taller than before. “Are you faring well in these halls?” he said. “No one has given you trouble?”

Gimli blinked, shaken by the abrupt change in mood. “Yes,” he said, “yes, everyone is perfectly cordial.” Not perfectly – not with the murmurs in dark corners in the Sindarin that Gimli could understand well enough; not when he sometimes felt a prickle on the back of his neck and heard laughter behind him, though he could not see who followed him. He felt safe enough here, particularly when Legolas was by his side, and that was enough.

“Good.” Thranduil nodded. “Do tell me if at any time our hospitality is less than might be hoped. I would not have my son-in-law treated poorly within my realm.”

“I” – How should he promise to do something he had no intention of doing? “You are kind,” was what he managed at last, a non-answer.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, and Gimli knew he caught it, but what could he say to such an answer? “I am hardly kind,” was his response. “As you have no doubt been reminded. But I do not make commitments lightly.”

“Nor does your son,” Gimli said, before he could think better of it – thinking of the earnestness of every one of Legolas’s promises, how sincerely he held his word. His heart ached at even this brief separation, at this strange conversation with Legolas’s father while his husband was away, and yet he wondered if Legolas’s sincerity was some gift from his father, undiluted by the years of trial and suspicion that shielded Thranduil’s eyes.

“No,” Thranduil said – soft, a rush of air, almost a sigh. “No, he does not.”

The melancholy that rose between them was entirely different now: not an acknowledgement of past suffering but an unspoken shared knowledge of future regrets that neither of them could help – a shared love for one who had set himself firmly on the path to grief, heedless of what either could wish for him. Gimli had known moments like this before – more often with Thranduil’s daughter than with the king himself – of that sudden kinship, that shared silent sorrow. For a moment, it was all he could feel.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the moment was ended and Thranduil had let his hands fall from the sill, stepped back from Gimli’s side. “I will leave you to your thoughts, then,” he said. “Have a pleasant evening, Gimli.”

“And you,” Gimli managed after him, half-stunned in his wake, but Thranduil gave no indication he had heard him but a half-raised hand, as much a dismissal as a farewell, and then he was striding off down the hallway and disappearing into the dark.

He departed as soundlessly as he had arrived.

[leafyfoots]

Lotro à la Mode - Year in Review 2021

Hail friends and well met! About a year later after Lotro à la Mode went public on Instagram, this Tumblr blog was created as a way to help organize and archive all of my shared outfits.

In 2021, I have (screen)shot 76 outfits all across Middle Earth. That’s more than an outfit a week on average, though I’ll admit I create outfit batches in spurts and then disappear for weeks.

This year has been one full of exploration, decoration, and raiding. My human champion and hobbit burglar also made their debuts this year. The Bloody Threshold barter came out with some stunning pieces of gear that I had not encountered in drops yet at the time. Revisiting the Vales of Anduin and the Mists of Wilderland yielded a handful of new Beorning-lands inspired outfits. The Fall of Khazad-dûm introduced new fiery items that made for some beautiful Mordor and Angmar appropriate outfits, as well as some housing decorations that really spruced up my Lórien Garden Library house. On that note, this is also the first time I revealed my house décor too! Progression continued and my friends finished T5 clears on Remmorchant and Threshold while awaiting the release of the Gundabad expansion. Of course, the festivals delivered some fantastic new cosmetic items too that certainly adds flair to any party outfit.

As always, look forward to more outfits in the coming year! I expect the cadence with which new outfits are created to roughly align with new content updates.

[aipilosse]

Our girl Coroniel, no. 55!

My OC Coroniel and a happy ending from this list of prompts. This was an excellent prompt as it forced me to figure out some geography — always a chore for me. It also is more of a happy beginning than an ending, but I think it might answer some questions about what happens next.

Second Age 745

Coroniel paused for a moment to catch her breath. It had been a long day. They had started east early that morning from the Sindarin village they had stayed in the night before, traveling along the dirt road that ran next to the Glanduin. When the sun was at its zenith, they had finally met up with the Khazad-dûm dwarves they had been exchanging letters with for years. It had been a merry meeting, and they had stopped for over an hour for each to praise the other party with many toasts. Her stomach full and head light with the potent spirits the dwarves had brought with them, Coroniel had thought it was an excellent time for a midday nap, but apparently for the dwarves, full stomachs and light heads were the perfect conditions for a long march. 

As they walked at a brisk pace, they had alternated between walking songs, light hearted jests, and the more serious business they had journeyed all the way from Mithlond to discuss. They had finally made camp as the shadows began to lengthen and the light took on a golden quality. 

Their discussions became more serious then, as they talked about the details of the formal mithril trade they wanted to start. 

“Trading you our excess mithril is all well and good,” said Lamlim, one of the senior dwarves in the party, and not one who Coroniel had met personally before. “But what you’re asking for would mean we’d have to smith less of it ourselves, and we are the greatest craftsmen in the world. What makes you think you are worthy of our greatest resource?” There had been some mutters of agreement from the other dwarves and outraged bristling from some of the Mithlond elves.

Bilran just winked at Celebrimbor. Clearly he had been anticipating this question and had no doubt been scheming with Celebrimbor for years via letters on how they would answer the challenge. 

“The craft of the Khazâd is excellent and I would not want to deprive the world of your fine work,” Celebrimbor answered. “But we also have some skill in metalworking, and see great potential to refine mithril even further, so that it becomes the most beautiful and coveted substance on Middle-earth.”

With that, he drew out a gorget he had crafted out of mithril. The dwarves fell completely silent as they passed the piece of armor from person to person, looking at the delicate traceries, feeling the strength of the metal, and marveling at the gleaming surfaces. Bilran was almost bursting with glee — clearly Celebrimbor had shown him the gorget before this moment. They were certainly going to get the trade agreement they had set out to make. 

After the first stunned silence, the floodgates had opened and the dwarves began bombarding Celebrimbor with questions about how he had elevated the already lovely mithril to even greater strength and beauty. 

Coroniel left the party then, content to let Celebrimbor and the other smiths answer their questions. She continued up the hill, finally reaching a flat outlook with a good view of the river below and the mountains ahead. 

She ran her hand over a nearby boulder. It was good limestone; they wouldn’t have to go far to quarry enough for their needs. She looked at the towering mountains that created a very familiar wall to the east. They were good; she liked mountains. The river though, that was what made this the perfect spot. The land was mostly open, but trees grew along the river, and she thought that there many types that could be planted in the stony soil in the future.

Coroniel turned her back to the river and let her gaze become unfocused. Multi-colored tiled roofs and soaring towers danced before her eyes. They could build high here, and create a city as tall as Gondolin had been, especially with their new found knowledge on how to create buildings that could withstand the earth’s tremors that they’d been forced to learn at the end of the First Age. 

She made her way back to camp as the last rays of the sun sank below the horizon. She found Celebrimbor sitting on a rock, still humming with the happiness of someone who had spent the past hour talking about his greatest passions. 

She sat down next to him and lightly kicked his leg. “This is the place.” Celebrimbor grinned at her and handed her a half empty bottle. They knocked their bottles together and drank to their future city.