#king of the crossroads;

[tonythr]

A tribute to my favorite quote from Hollow Knight. My biggest finished artwork so far

[eerna]

me explaining why Will/Elizabeth/Jack love triangle was a perfect little one-movie arc that wasn't present in the final movie because it was never about choosing and instead just about dynamics and character development so they all outgrew it by then

[hjbirthdaywishes]

May 30, 2024

Happy 60 Birthday to Mark Sheppard.

[cilil]

Crossroads of the Fallen King: The Sundelions of Arien

❁ Verse: Silmarillion x Legend of Zelda Totk/BotW ❁ Pairing: Mairon x Arien ❁ Synopsis: Mairon has a favour to ask of his former lover. ❁ Warnings: / ❁ Oneshot (~1.4k) | SWG

AN: Here's my contribution to the Crossroads of the Fallen King challenge! This oneshot takes place in my TotK/BotW AU and deals with the Sundelions, Arien as their caretaker and the key role they play in healing wounds dealt by Void creatures like Ungoliant and her spiders. For a more detailed explanation, see the end notes down below.

"Arien."

The sound of Mairon's voice is pleasant as always, and she listens before she knows it, ignoring the dread and anger welling up within her chest. Many times has Arien imagined what it will be like when he finally  decides to show his face again, how she will confront him for his betrayal, how she will be wiser and not let him fool her ever again. 

She doesn't have to look at him. She knows he's standing there, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't broken her heart. 

And she knows that these days he only comes to see her if he wants something. 

Arien has no patience for it. 

"What do you want?" she asks as coldly as she can and refuses to face him. Stubbornly, she keeps her gaze on the black and golden flowers she's tending to for her lady, the miraculous Sundelions that can produce the only known cure to the Void's Gloom; and suddenly she has an idea why her former lover chose to appear in a domain where he's not welcome. 

The fact that Mairon was able to reach her without being seen or detected worries her, though less for her sake and more for the Maiar of Vána and Yavanna who cannot match his fell fire. 

He has taken a step closer, and Arien feels an uncomfortable heat surging through her veins. Is it his gaze on her that she feels, she wonders, or is he already looking at his prize. 

She caresses the Sundelions' fragile petals as if in reassurance, and she knows his eyes follow her movements. 

"Look at me." 

Mairon's request, uttered softly and without the edge of command that so often accompanies his speech, startles Arien so much that she does. She sees the same face she knew many years ago, yet marred by a blackened wound across his left cheek, as if struck by a poisoned blade. Similar wounds are on his neck, chest, arms and hands, and pity overcomes her before she knows it. 

"What happened to you?" she gasps and rushes to his side. "Did the Dark One...?" 

For a moment Arien hopes that he will answer yes. If it was Melkor who hurt him, maybe he would finally see the error of his ways and come back to her. But as quickly as that thought has crossed her mind, she begins to abhor it. She knows well how dangerous the Dark Vala can be and doesn't want her fiery kin, fallen as they all may be, to face the wrath of his freezing storm. 

"No. I was hurt while fighting monsters from the Void; with his help, if I may add," Mairon says, holding up his hands and looking at his damaged palms. 

Arien takes his hands into hers. He remains eerily calm and composed, and the lack of any wincing or flinching makes her hope he isn't in too much pain. 

"Are you sure this is what happened?" she asks gently. "Are you sure you are not blaming something else to cover for him?" 

"He hasn't hurt me and would never do so. It is as I said." 

There is no anger in Mairon's voice, but his tone is firm. Arien isn't sure if she should admire his conviction or think him a fool for trusting and defending Melkor. 

And even if he didn't hurt him himself, he let him get hurt, she thinks, nodding to herself as if to reassure her conscience that the Dark Vala is indeed to blame for this mishap as well. 

Gingerly, she examines his wounds and finds that Mairon hasn't lied to her. Injuries from Void creatures have unfortunately become more common in recent times, prompting her lady Estë to instruct her Maiar accordingly and request a steady supply of Sundelions. The pervasive decay infesting their once thought unbreakable weapons must cause him as much ire and stress as his former lord Aulë, she muses. 

"You want me to heal you," she says. It's not a question; she is certain that she knows the reason for his visit now. At least he was wise enough to come alone and not bring his miserable master with him. 

"Ah, you don't have to." Mairon looks up at her, an amicable smile on his lips. "A few of these lovely flowers would already suffice. I can handle the rest myself; after all it would be rude of me to ask for too much from you." 

His words seem fair, his voice is smooth. It's all so perfectly easy and reasonable that Arien pauses, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Why would he not take the freely given help of a Maia serving both Vána and Estë, he who has never been a healer. 

Unless... There is a reason why he wants to take the flowers himself. 

"Is your lord hurt as well?" Arien asks sharply. 

There is a flash of something unreadable in Mairon's eyes, gone before she can see it for what it is. 

"Of course not, why do you ask?" He laughs lightly. Too calm, too serene. It doesn't ease Arien's worries in the slightest. "You would not feel very inclined to help him if it were the case, no?"

"Are you lying to me because it is in fact the case and you want to use my compassion for you to take my flowers so you can help him?" 

At last mild annoyance clouds Mairon's fair features, and the ancient familiarity of seeing him thus makes it strangely comforting. Endearing even. Yet Arien keeps her guard up while trying to glimpse past his. 

"You have seen for yourself that I am wounded as I told you," he says. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards again as if to regain his smile, but it's more akin to a haughty smirk this time. 

Arien finds a strange sort of pleasure in breaking through Mairon's barriers and ripping off his carefully crafted masks, even if what she finds is less fair than the faces she remembers. 

"It is not like I fail to understand the thought," he continues, "deny me in order to deny Melkor, just in case. That is certainly something he would think to do to spite former lovers as well." 

Her own control slips, her hands sizzling against his as her fána heats up. To imply that she would stoop to Melkor's level — and yet, even though Arien knows full well the intent behind such a well-placed comment, she cannot deny that Mairon has a point. 

"We wouldn't have that problem if you just agreed to let me heal you instead," she snaps. 

"Perhaps, though I did tell you why I didn't feel it was appropriate of me to ask for that." Mairon has regained his calm, controlled composure with infuriating professionalism. 

It's not the first time that Arien has wondered if speaking to her is some sort of task or game for him that he completes with the same excellence as his other work. 

"You are going to come with me," she orders, still fuming. "We will go to my house and I will heal you properly and you will stay as long as it takes."

"If that is your wish, I shall." 

Mairon's smile is as bright as Arien's fury. She lets go of his hands and links their arms; he knows the way to her house, yet she feels the need to hold on to him lest he slip away too soon. At least his wounds will make him stay with her for a while, even if his powers and strange new magic seems to be mostly unscathed and only his fána is damaged. 

There is a strange sort of triumph in taking her wayward former lover home. She even begins to enjoy herself once she takes a few Sundelions to brew a healing potion, applying it to every inch of blackened skin and adding a few spoons to a bowl of hot soup that she feeds him. 

Thus absorbed in this brief moment of reconciliation with the Maia she once wished to spend eternity with, Arien remains blissfully unaware of the shadow that comes over her meadows at night, cruelly rips out a handful of her beloved flowers and disappears with his prey. 

End notes: In Zelda TotK, Sundelions are a plant ingredient used to cook healing items that can restore damaged caused by Gloom, an evil and harmful substance that essentially drains the life of its victims. It causes decay in weapons and permanently reduces Link's health, making him unable to heal himself fully until he can get rid of the Gloom damage. I felt like Void and Void creatures like Ungoliant would be an excellent fit for Gloom and Gloom-affected monsters, as well as Arien as a servant of Vána and Estë growing and maintaining Sundelions.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-defense-attorney @numenhore @sauron-kraut @urwendii @wandererindreams

[silmarillionwritersguild]

The Nirnaeth is fought by superheroes. Elven history becomes a telenovela. Túrin rages through the five acts of a Shakespearean tragedy. Tolkien characters fall into favorite films and shows, and classic literature mixes with zombies … or Balrogs. Elves in space and Maglor in history—Tolkien crossovers that are nearly genres in their own right.

Crossover fanworks have a vibrant history in the Tolkien fandom, and the crossroads are fertile ground for new and unexpected creative endeavors. This month's challenge asks participants to create a crossover fanwork. The second text and how exactly you cross the two is entirely up to you!

Crossovers are fanworks that use elements from two or more fandoms or texts to create a fanwork. Crossovers can use characters, settings, and other elements from the second text. In the Tolkien fanfiction fandom, crossovers have also included fanworks that combine Tolkien's world with folklore, myth, and real-world history. As always, we encourage participants to get creative in how they interpret this month's challenge.

Note that, on the SWG, Silmarillion-based fanworks that use The Rings of Power show (and other media adaptations) are considered crossovers. Likewise, fanworks that cross The Silmarillion with any of Tolkien's non-Middle-earth works are counted as crossovers.

Many thanks to Independence1776 for this month's lovely banner and stamps!

In order to receive a stamp for your fanwork, your response must be posted to the archive on or before 15 June 2024. For complete challenge guidelines, see the Challenges page on our website.

[crossroadart-seabear]

I like to imagine there’s no malice in it. Rivalry, I’m sure. But nothing personal.

I also like the idea of it being scheduled in their diary. Holly’s diary at least, Oak absolutely does not have a diary.

‘May 1st: Getting Murdered. Don’t forget to cancel milk.’

‘June 29: Brunch.’

[kr-yoongi]

Stargate SG-1 S04E04ㅣCrossroads

[tonythr]

Picking up Monarch Wings triggers Infected Crossroads and there is a lore reason for that

Another interesting fact that (in my opinion) is not talked about enough is that the Infection doesn't corrupt the crossroads after we take monarch wings just because it's a convenient point from a gameplay perspective to introduce the player to stronger enemies, or to show us the passage of time. It's because taking away the wings from that specific location directly affects the spread of the Infection.

In the game, we can clearly see how a specific segment of the Ancient Basin is overrun by the Infection. I'm talking about two big rooms in the western part of the Basin, one where we fight the Broken Vessel and the other where we encounter the Mawlurks. There is a third one near the Basin tram station of the lower line, but I assume it's just part of the same thing, just the Infection seeping through the ceiling of the main room. There is also the room that contains Monarch Wings, which is completely free of the Infection, but I'll get to it.

Those glowing bubbles and pulsing vines and orange clouds of fog are indicative of severe corruption by the Infection. Before Infected Crossroads, we see them only in special places (like the Glowing Womb aspid nest) where the Infection had a lot of opportunity to become gas, then liquid, then flesh for one reason or another (with the aspid nest that reason is probably the symbiotic relationship between aspids and the Infection itself, where the aspids act like carriers of the disease that help it spread).

And the western part of Basin is the most unique place in that sense, because, aside from the crossroads, it's the only place where 'that flesh came to life'. But what is the reason for that? Why don't we see those glowing blobs and lightseeds in any other part of the map, even though it's clear that even the most remote parts of Hallownest were influenced by the Infection? What is so unique about this part of the Basin?

It's the wind.

The picture doesn't show the vines and particles moving around that much, but anyone who played the game probably remembers that badass storm that we see and hear the moment we enter the room after the big spike tunnel. The orange glow of the Infection also makes its first appearance in this particular room (if we're talking about this specific part of the Basin, of course). That leads me to believe that the wind is somehow connected to the spread of the Infection in the confines of this area. And we already know why this wind is there in the first place.

The room where we pick up the Monarch Wings is the only one in this area that holds no sign of the Infection whatsoever. The wind in this room also feels much stronger, and it blows with a unique sound specifically near the Wings statue. But most importantly, it stops the moment the Knight consumes the Monarch Wings.

After that, the whole area actually becomes less infected. The changes are rather subtle, but visible.

Look:

LOOK:

And, despite the common misconception, it's consuming the Wings that serves as the in-game trigger that sets off the Infected Crossroads. You can literally kill BV without picking up the Wings, and then return to the Crossroads to see that it's still (relatively) uninfected. It's a solid proof that Monarch Wings and the wind that they create is what affects the spread of the Infection.

After we pick up the Wings, the Infectious mass partially leaves this part of the Basin and moves to the Crossroads, since that's when we see all those drastic changes. Now, that might give us some interesting implications about how the Infection actually works. Possibly, reuniting with its main source inside the Black Egg Temple gives it more power, resulting in total corruption of the Crossroads, since we see that Infected Crossroads has way more bubbles, lightseeds, vines etc. That actually leads me to believe that the Infection actually may have very specific physical limits, and that the total mass of the matter that it can create is finite and measurable (at least as long as the Sealed Vessel is still intact and holds the source of it inside itself).

Like, why doesn't it spread all throughout Hallownest even when the Seals are broken and the door is open? Even when the Hollow Knight is unchained, the Infection doesn't spread anywhere beyond the Crossroads, it stays exactly the way it was with only one Dreamer taken down or only Wings being picked up. So yeah, my theory here is that:

Picking up Wings and killing a Dreamer triggers the spread of the Infection in different ways (Wings lets another part of the Infection's mass give power to its main source, killing a Dreamer loosens the door's Seal and lets the Infection out), but ultimately leads to one result, that being Infected Crossroads.

The Infection doesn't spread past Crossroads because Hollow Knight, despite its failure, is still strong enough to hold it at bay.

The Infection operates like some kind of shapeless mass that can be gas, liquid, solid and sentient. It's basically a matter that holds a will (that will, of course, belongs to the Radiance).

That is why destroying the Infection (instead of sealing it away) was deemed impossible.

Although that leaves many questions about the Pale King and his relation to the Radiance. Did he know that the source of the Infection was his old pal Moth Goddess? Did he deliberately choose not to confront her, but instead try and seal her away? Was he stupid? Or did he have some secret internal motives?

...That is not exactly what this post is about. I would like to get back to the Wings thing now.

Another thing that led me to believe that it's that particular Infectious mass from Basin that corrupts the Crossroads after we pick up the Wings is the movement of the particles inside that part of Basin. Particularly, the Void particles. Before we pick up Wings, those particles follow the wind. After that, they start to slowly rise upwards, just like in the rest of the location. That gives us two interesting conclusions:

After we pick up Wings, the Basin Infection escapes upwards, eventually reaching Crossroads.

The Void that resides in Basin is also affected by the Monarch Wind.

By the way, another interesting fact: the orange fog that we see spreading throughout Infected Crossroads actually moves according to its position relative to the Black Egg Temple.

This means that Team Cherry does put deeper meaning into how they make background particles move, and it means that I'm not insane for reading this much into that! Yay!

Now, back to the Void being influenced by the Wind. Like I said, the part of the Void (which, probably, is also a matter that has its own mass, albeit maybe not as measurable) that resides in that part of Basin is also influenced by the Monarch Wind along with the Infection. It might imply that, like the Infection, the Void is trapped inside that area.

Or maybe it's not trapped. Maybe it just circulates there, so that something else can be trapped inside its currents. Ancient Basin is basically the Void's home, so I really doubt that whatever is going on in that area affects the overall condition of the Void as a whole. But we don't know that. What we DO know is that the Infection there is certainly trapped, unable to reunite with its source, being forced to slowly find ways to adapt, becoming gas, then liquid, then flesh, then reviving the corpse of the Knight's Lost Kin.

So what if that was the whole point?

Ok, we know that Pale King was looking for ways to fight off the Infection and eventually decided to harness the power of the Void to do so. He created Kingsmoulds, Wingsmoulds, probably experimented with the Void inside his workshop, eventually coming up with the idea of a Pure Vessel... But what if what we see in the Monarch Wings location is another part of his struggles to come up with a plan to lock up the Infection?

See, we KNOW that the Monarch Wings were Pale King's deal.

We know he wore one of those.

We know that those flies that (presumably) give the Knight those Wings are called the Monarch Flies (or rather Monarchflys? I dunno, I wouldn't trust those mushrooms on how to spell things).

And we also know that the Pale King has some connection to the wind.

So perhaps that area is a place where Pale King was trying to contain the Infection without trying to put it inside a live Vessel. Maybe it was the first prototype for his plan to see how the Void, being channeled with his monarch power, would keep the Infection at bay? Maybe there was another reason as to why that part of the Infection should have been sealed away?

Whatever it is, my overall theory is this:

The Monarch Wings contain some kind of power that is strongly connected to the Pale King. This power creates a magic Wind that makes the Void residing in Ancient Basin move and circulate, resulting in a part of the Infection (perhaps one of the remaining parts from the first time it started destroying Hallownest) being trapped in the area of that Wind's range, isolating it from the outside world and making it start to form gas clouds, liquid puddles, bubbles and lightseeds. Once the Knight removes the Wings, consuming them for its own purposes, the once trapped part of the Infection reunites with its main source at the Black Egg Temple. As a result, the Infection's will becomes stronger, and it starts corrupting nearby lands (although it's still being held back by the Sealed Vessel), creating what we know as Infected Crossroads.

Ok I'm actually done. I hope this is comprehensible enough to read and not too boring or too obvious. I just REALLY wanted to talk about it, since everything about this part of the game gives me chills.

[ladysternchen]

What Is Right And What Is Easy

Finwë

“(Melkor becomes suspicious, and guesses war is purposed against him, because of the Quendi. During Oromë’s absence his emissaries are busy, and many lies circulate. The `heresy’ awakes in new form: the Valar clearly do exist; but they have abandoned Endor; rightly as the appointed realm of the Quendi. Now they are becoming jealous, and wish to control the Quendi as vassals, and so re-possess themselves of Endor. Finwë, a gallant and adventurous young quende, direct descendant of Tata […], is much taken by these ideas; less so his friend, Elwë, descendant of Enel)”- J.R.R.Tolkien (editor Carl F. Hofstetter): the Nature of Middle-Earth, Chapter XIII ‘Key Dates’

“Finwë! Lord Oromë has returned!”

Finwë wrinkled his nose, looking sceptically at his friend.

“So?” he asked finally, wincing inwardly at how cool he knew his voice sounded. Unsurprisingly, Elwë frowned at his friend’s less than enthusiastic attitude.

“What do you mean, ‘so’? He is going to tell us more of Valinor, and besides, when he is here, no Shadow will dare come close.”

“The Shadow is conquered, they say.”

“I hear that. But there are still enough foul things on the loose in these woods!”

“Yes…” Finwë said. “…or so the Vala says.”

Elwë just stared at his friend, until Finwë bit his tongue in dreadful realisation. 

“Elwë, I… forgive me, I did not mean to…”

“It’s fine! But will you come now and hear for yourself what Oromë has to say?”

“What if he is only trying to lure us to Valinor, though? What if the Valar are really truly the evil ones? I mean, we are happy here, are we not?”

Elwë considered that for a while, his eyes on the star-strewn heavens. At last he sighed deeply, looking as if he were carrying a much older elf’s burdens. 

“I don’t believe it. I know many do, I know it sounds so very… plausible. But there is no evil in Oromë. Anger, perhaps, wrath even, but no evil. Have you seen the light that shines within his eyes? Something so pure cannot in itself be evil, I am sure about it! So will you come with me back to the others?”

Finwë still was reluctant, though he had to admit that Elwë had a good point.

“But you were the one to take ages to start trusting Oromë…”

Elwë shook his head.

“No, your memory deceives you there, my friend. I trusted Oromë from the start. But I needed time to think over what he told us.”

An almost pained look crossed Finwë’s face.

“Yes. I know you did. You always think everything over. But it seems that that is no bad thing this time. Alright. Let’s go!”

Ingwë

He balled his fists in frustration beneath his cloak, doing his best to keep his face even. Lord Imin was smiling understandingly and somehow, that made him even angrier, and he was by the Valar not prone to anger quickly.

“The tales you tell of Valinor are blissful, Ingwë and I understand your youthful desire to seek new shores…”

“Lord, with all due respect, you speak as if with the wisdom of age, that truly only the Powers, who are ageless and timeless, possess. It is said by them that this is the Age of the youth of all Quendi, so it might be all our youthful duty to find a home that is more suitable for our kind.”

Still, Imin was smiling, and Ingwë could have hit him for it. Behind Imin, Iminyë, Tata and Tatië, Enel and Enelyë stood with grimmer expressions, though all very much signalling consent to the eldest’ words. Ingwë chanced a glance at Finwë and Elwë, who stood beside him, Finwë glaring furiously at the elders, Elwë with his gaze lowered to the ground, looking about as comfortable in his position as a speared fish. It was all Ingwë could do not to roll his eyes at the pair of them, for none of them was in the least helpful, though for very contrasting reasons. Wryly, he thought that if one could somehow mix his friends together, make one out of two, they might actually become useful.

“You are bold, Ingwë. But consider this- here is where we awoke, where we are meant to be. The shores of the sacred waters of Cuiviénen are our home. The Quendi belong here, as the Valar belong in their realm of eternal bliss. We shall be ever glad of their friendship and help, but the offer to live among them we must refuse!”

“But…”

“The people of the stars we are, young lord!” said Enel, speaking up for the first time. “Have you not told us of eternal light there in Aman? How could the Eldar prosper in such a land? It seems to me that they would live in bliss for only a short time, burning with a flame too bright for their being, and then soon perish!”

Ingwë resigned himself to saying what he had tried to avoid saying until now for Elwë’s sake, but now felt he must voice.

“But it seems likely that we shall perish here even sooner. Was it not, Lord Enel, Lady Enelyë, a prince of your house that was only lately slaughtered, his wife taken by the Shadows, only to leave their infant son behind? Is that what you would choose for your people truly?”

Predictably, a shudder went through the crowd and Ingwë sensed more than saw Finwë’s piercing glare while he laid a comforting arm around Elwë’s shoulders.

“That is quite enough, Ingwë!” Ilion spoke up, and though his tone was gentle, Ingwë could discern the warning in his father’s words.

“The Quendi that awoke on these shores will stay by these shores, whether you youngsters like it or not!” Tata stated, and had those not been words of doom, Ingwë would have laughed. It was easy to trace the passion with which words were spoken from Tata to his youngest lord without any trouble. 

“Then the Quendi will have to decide whom they will follow.” said Ingwë, raising his voice, so that everyone could hear him. “I ask therefore the tribe of the Minyar, my people, to choose whom they will follow!” 

Elwë

Stars. Light. Diamonds in the sky. Or pearls on endless shores, shimmering in the light of the Trees. What was right? What wrong?

His head swam as if he had received a heavy blow, making him incapable of even a single straight thought, confused, and lost. Entirely lost.

Trees? Or stars? Lady Yavanna? Or Queen Varda?

It does not work like that, young lord.

Varda’s laughter, so clear, so warm, so pure.

You need not decide. My stars remain where they are, regardless whether your people do so as well.

He stumbled, branches piercing the palms of his hands as he fell on them.

Yavanna and Varda had exchanged mirthful glances at his words. He had not understood, but then, there had been so much he had not understood.

It would have been so easy, to give into the will of many of his people, to stay on starlit shores, the journey so difficult, Aman so bright, the sea so wide.

Do I choose what is easy? Or do I choose what is right? 

He had never doubted Oromë, nor the Valar in general. And Finwë…

Finwë. Thoughts of his dearest friend stirred his mind out of its exhausted stupor. He had gone to visit Finwë, but then…

Mist seemed to fog his mind again. He would surly die here, and soon. His throat was dry, and his limbs shook with the effort of scrambling to his feet again. Tired. He was so tired.

And yet he blinked, and after a little while his vision cleared enough for him to see what was in front of him- bushes, too thick and thorny to penetrate. To his left the trees stood closely together, to his right, the terrain fell a little, the ground rocky and treacherous, and yet… it sloped downhill, and going downhill would be so much less exhausting, at least for a little while. And did not all this land fall towards the sea? The sea… he had a feeling that he needed to be there. Nowë’s little toy ships on the mirror-clear surface of Cuiviénen. Home. The easy way.

Do I choose what is easy, or what my heart tells me is right?

The song pulled him towards the trees, so beautiful, and there was something familiar about it, something that made him think of Oromë. Had the Vala come again? Would he save him?

But was this all real? Was anything real? Who was he? Where was he? What was he doing there?

Song. Light. The way to go.

His last thought, before he forced himself to walk on, his mind then so set on putting one foot in front of the other that there was no room for anything else, was of the song, and of how, when his strength would finally be spent, the music would be the last thing he heard, and that was a very comforting thought.

Olwë

The sea rushed back and forth, back, and forth. Olwë lost himself in that rhythm, as he had done frequently ever since they had reached the coast. Back, and forth. Yet today, that sound brought him no comfort.

Back…

Was he supposed to do that? Turn back now, after they had come so far? Refuse Ossë and his island and stay? 

… and forth…

It was almost time now, the Maia had said, and Olwë knew it well enough within his own heart. They had long lingered here, and now was the time to go on.

Though could he go on? 

‘How can you do this?’ Elmo had asked him last night, despair and barely concealed fury in his voice. 

‘I can do this because our people are my responsibility now, and I have to lead them on. That is what Elwë wanted, what he laboured for for all these long years!’ he had answered, trying to convince himself as much as his little brother. 

There would be no reaching Aman after that. If he left now, he left Elwë behind, his dreams and hopes, and everyone who refused to leave without him.

No. No no no! 

He needed to be firm on this, could not allow the voices in his head to re-awaken. There was no older brother anymore to leave behind. 

Elwë is gone, he is dead, there is no other explanation! 

Elmo and Nowë were being stupid, and Beleg and Mablung and everyone else who wanted him to delay their journey further. He knew, he was utterly certain, that Elwë had not just walked away from his people, had not left them by his own free will. And that left only two possibilities- either he was dead, killed in some freak accident or by some fell thing, or… no, but that, too, was something he could not allow himself to think. And yet he could do nothing against his imagination showing him what would likely be Elwë’s fate were he indeed unlucky enough to live still. Captivity. Torture. Torture beyond what an elf could endure, until nothing was left of him but a maimed body and mind, bound to the will of the Shadow. Olwë had never believed it was truly gone. The one called Melkor might be, but not Evil itself. He wanted nothing more than to be gone from these shores, to be where the Powers dwelled, where it was safe.

‘Is that truly how you repay him for everything he has done for us? You just give up on him?’

Olwë had caught Elmo by the wrists then, forcing him to calm down and listen.

‘I am NOT abandoning him. But we searched, Elmo. Everywhere. Many, many times. Elwë is gone. And I know this is what he would have wanted me to do- complete his work, lead his people on. Get us, you and me, to safety!’

‘Aye, I agree. That would be exactly what he would say, being noble, acting the hero. Because he has learned to always put us first because he loved to think of our safety as his responsibility, and oh, did he enjoy himself in that role. But we have a responsibility for him, too. We are brothers. And what are brothers for if not to look after one another?’

Elmo’s words stung still. A lot. But what really hurt was what Elmo had said next.

“I am not leaving here without him. He promised me not to leave me again and I do not think he did. And I am most certainly not leaving him!”

So there he was now. If he chose to leave Middle-Earth, he was losing both his brothers, and Nowë, too, if his cousin did not return to the them soon. He was losing all his family. There would be nobody there to pat him on the back, to say they were proud of him when they would finally reach Aman. He thought of his wife and their future children. Her parents had stayed at Cuiviénen, her sisters left them on the journey. Their children would just miss so much. No cousins to build boats with. No uncles and aunts to fish them out of the waves if they ever got over-excited. He would call himself king, and ever in his heart feel that this crown did not belong to him.

 And if he were to meet Elwë again? They had learned that the Fëar of those that had died could be rehoused after a fashion, return among the living. So what would happen if he did come face to face with his older brother once more and had to explain to him that he  had left Elmo behind? Elwë would never, ever, forgive him.

Back…

Maybe they could really be happy here. The sea was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The stars overhead gave them light. Ossë and Uinen and Ulmo were ever there, so would it really be so bad to stay? And after all, that meant they could one day reconnect with those they had left behind. This, after all, was home.

… and forth.

But really, his mind was set, and had been from the start. He would do what he and Elwë had set out to do what now felt like an eternity ago. 

When he sought out Elmo, he knew at first glance that his face showed his decision, for his brother smiled sadly at him.

“I stand by what I said. I will not leave Middle-Earth without Elwë.”

“Thus we, too, must part then. But Elmo? Promise me you will stay safe. Promise me you will find love and happiness, whether you ever find Elwë or not. And if by some chance you do find him alive, tell him I love him. And that his excuse had better be good!”

Elmo nodded, and Olwë embraced his brother, then turned to board the island at last, to turn his back to the lands of his birth, never to look back.

[waterfire1848]

Avatar AU - During the final battle at Ba Sing Se, Toph and Sokka decide to take Mai and Ty Lee hostage. (A reformed villain story where Mai and Ty Lee join the Gaang before Zuko and Azula)

[3rdeyeblaque]

On May 8th, we also venerate Ancestor Robert Johnson on his 112th birthday 🎉

A renowned ICON of Hoodoo History, Culture, & Folklore, and a Delta Blue's legend, Robert Johnson's storied yet brief success has cemented him at the crossroads of Hoodoo Folklore & American History. He is known for his exceptionally eerie singing & masterful guitar play amid living a hard and fast life; after having struck a deal with the Devil to become one of the greatest Blue's musicians of all time.

According to Hoodoo Folklore, it was a cool October night when Robert Johnson walked alone with his guitar down a dark road in the Mississippi River Delta on a full moon night to the crossroads at Highways 49 & 61 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. As he walks he thinks about his sorrow. He thinks about the jeers & shouts for him to get off stage. In his misery, he cries out into the night. For his weakness, jealousy, fear, & the anguish of failure. But he’s not alone. Here, he meets the Devil. The Devil heard his cry & appeared, offering to fashion him a talent so he could play unlike any other in exchange for his soul. Thus Robert Johnson rose to fame as the King of the Delta Blues.

Robert Johnson was the eleventh child of his mother's children & born out of wedlock. He was born and grew up with his mother in Hazlehurst, Mississippi until he left to stay with his father for a time in Memphis,TN. His childhood is largely a mystery. Those that knew of him, claimed that he took up the diddley bow (a wire attached to nails sticking out of houses), as music was his life long interest.

As a teen, Robert Johnson met fellow Blue's legend Son House and Willie Brown. They became his musical mentors as they played in small towns throughout the Mississippi Delta. Thus began his showmanship & his iconic fusion of singing, guitar-playing, & songwriting. From then on he lived the life he sang about, the life a mysterious traveling musician. Though as the old folks of the era would say,  “The Blues was never meant to be taken seriously or reflectively. It was simply a force, expressing the deepest roots of their lives”. That there are only 3 known photos of him in existence only adds to his mystery.

By 1931 he was a popular name in bars and nightclubs throughout the region. While passing through Jackson, Mississippi in 1936, Robert Johnson caught the eye of a talent scout who'd go on to arranged his first recording session, which went on to selling 5,000 copies throughout the region. This was the very 1st time that  Robert Johnson's singing voice & guitar play was recorded. Despite his short life & career, he became a major influence on Blue's & Rock N Roll in the '60s & '70s. He'd go on to influence the likes of Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, the Allman Brothers, and Eric Clapton. In 1961 Columbia Records released, King of Delta Blues, which was a compilation of his early recordings; spanning just 29 cut between 1936-1938.

In 1938, a music producer at Columbia Records learned about his recordings & sought him out to perform at Carnegie Hall in NYC in front of an all-Black crowd. Unfortunately, Robert Johnson passed away the night before the show was set.

To this day, the cause of his death remains in dispute. Some say he was shot dead by the man of a paramour he'd messed around with. Others say it was a poison that killed him. His death certificate, however, officially states that his cause of death was Syphilis. Still, whether literally or figuratively, there are those who believe that the Devil did in fact collect his due.

At the time of his death, his grave remained unmarked thus no exumation effort could ever conclude with 100% certainty that the uncovered remains are his. Today, what has long-since been presumed to be his remains, is buried in Little Zion Baptist Church's cemetary, in Greenwood, Mississippi. 

"I pray that my redeemer will come and take me from my grave" - Robert Johnson’s final words

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his legendary contributions to the art, history, and lore of Blue's & Black Culture. May we elevate him in light & healing.

Offering suggestions: listen to/share his music, play Mississippi Delta Blue's , & menthol cigarettes paired with dark liquor

*Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.

[chacerider]

猫の日 + honorary cat 🐾

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Sansa I

“May I be excused?”

“You may.” Septa Mordane helped herself to more bread and honey, and Sansa slid from the bench.

Lady followed at her heels as she ran from the inn’s common room.

Outside, she stood for a moment amidst the shouts and curses and the creak of wooden wheels as the men broke down the tents and pavilions and loaded the wagons for another day’s march.

The inn was a sprawling three-story structure of pale stone, the biggest that Sansa had never seen, but even so, it had accommodations for less than a third of the king’s party, which had swollen to more than four hundred with the addition of her father’s household and the freeriders who had joined them on the road.

[swordmaid]

What would be your ideal endgame for Hyle Hunt?

listen….. I’m a hyle enthusiast fire and foremost but I think he’s gonna die LOL. i mean his sigil is a hanged stag and where is he now … getting hanged … life imitates art etc. but on the off chance that he ends up surviving like a cockroach I think he’s just gonna be some guy that fought in the big war and survived. maybe he’ll land himself a nice job under a lord so he becomes a guard or somethn instead of a hedge knight. I like the idea that jaime employs him though just to fuck with him but that’s kinda sus 👀🤭 bc why are you as someone who hates him giving him a job so he stays with you? trying to find a way to keep him close? are you guys gonna explore each other’s bodies next??

[lildoodlenoodle]

Midwestern Gothic SPN: Keeping Up With The Economy

[crossroadart-seabear]

I had the chillest Mabon evening with a friend. The weather was prefect & very much lined up with my head canon that these 2, the Holly and Oak King, are on perfectly amicable terms with eachother during the equinoxes. They probably also got fish and chips by the river and talked while the sun set.

I’m not usually this sappy. These links will prove it. Or maybe they won’t. Idk.