#lotr OCs

[ghosta-r]

so I have this ability to not draw normal fanart and well I

[gil-galadhwen]

A Glimmer of Hope

As the cool, blue water of the river Lhûn closed over his head, Elrond had no idea what to do next. Before resurfacing, he spots a glimmer of light underwater and decides to follow it into a hidden cave…

Read the rest here...

( Dividers by @saradika )

[rosie-love98]

The Women Of Oropher's House:

Winduirost:

Wife of Oropher and mother of Thranduil.

Name means “Windy Rain” in Sindarin. She was called this due to her gray eyes.

Daughter of Tauraear (“Vast Ocean”) and Erinmidh (“Morning-Dew”).

Was sister to an elder brother named “Duinlung” (“Riverbend”) and a younger sister called “Loebnen” (“Fresh-Water). Along with their parents, both Duinlung and Loebnen would be killed during an Orc attack in the First Age 585. Winduirost was the sole survivor when Oropher had managed to rescue her.

Married Oropher in the First Age 588 and made the move to Mirkwood with him.

Had the unique trait of having golden-blonde hair. This may be the result of a Vanyar or Noldor ancestor.

Winduirost didn’t think highly of the Silvans of Mirkwood. This was why she was against Thranduil marrying her handmaiden, Lisselote.

When Oropher gave Thranduil and Lisselote his blessing to their engagement, a petty Winduirost gave Lisselote dozens of hard tasks to prove her worth.

When Oropher perished during the War Of The Last Alliance, Winduirost would soften her harsh judgment thanks to Lisslote’s kindness towards the grieving queen.

Sailed to the Undying Lands in the Third Age 87, shortly after the birth of her grandson, Legolas.

Despite (somewhat) softening her cold disposition, it still didn’t stop Winduirost’s initial objection to Legolas’s romance with the Wingildi, Nenselde. Though, in Winduirost’s defense, she had more legit reasons.

Lisselote:

Wife of Thranduil and mother of Legolas.

Name means “Honey-Blossom” due to having honey-blonde hair.

Daughter of Malinurin (“Yellow-Sun”) and Tuilevire (“Spring Rose”).

Had a younger sister named “Incadaisime” (“Small Daisy”).

Was a hand-maiden to Queen Winduirost when Lisselote became acquainted with Thranduil.

Married Thranduil in the Second Age 3500. They were engaged back in 3429 but they were forced to halt the wedding due to the War Of The Last Alliance breaking out.

Was given the White Gems Of Lasgalen as a wedding gift from Winduirost on the late Oropher’s behalf.

During an Orc attack on Mirkwood, Lisselote was kidnapped by the enemy and taken to Angmar where she’d be tortured to death. 

Her untimely demise was sacrificial as the Orcs were trying to find and kill the then-infant Legolas. Little did they know Lisselote had given Legolas to her maid-servants who were already protecting the other Mirkwood Elflings (including little Tauriel).

This Orc siege had also cost the lives of Tuileveire and Incadaisime. As for Malinurin, he had already died during the War Of The Last Alliance.

Nenselde:

Wife of Legolas and mother of Marillalote.

Is the very last of all the Wingildi (“Foam-Maidens”) to have been created. 

Name means “Sea-Child” in Sindarin.

Unlike the Wingildis, she was made with the tear of Nienna. As a result, she was made and grew as an Elf child rather than a grown adult like her sisters. Yet, the other side-effect was that Nenselde was prone to grief and depression.

When Nenselde was a small, Elf child, she was given to Osse and Uinen to raise along with Wingildis.

By the time she turned 200-years-old, the now adult Nenselde would be so overwhelmed with her depression that she left her family for seclusion within the Bay Of Belfalas.

As much as she loved her family, Nenselde forbade herself from returning to them. The likes of Gandalf and Cirdan even tried to talk with her but whenever that arrived at Belfalas, a nervous Nenselde would hide away from them.

For centuries, Nenselde would be all alone at the bay until the Fourth Age arrived. From the Fourth Age 190-220, she would have mysterious visions of Prince Legolas Of Mirkwood. From all of these shared visions, the two would grow romantically close.

Yet, as Nenselde longed to be with Legolas and his friends in the Undying Lands, she was still torn with the Bay Of Belfalas. 

To make matters worse, their shared dreams would be corrupted by an evil force, the Dark Tree Cult that also made both Legolas and Nenselde undergo a deadly coma.

Still, by the Fourth Age 221, Nenselde would finally leave the Bay Of Belfalas and wed Legolas to the joy of Gimli Gloinul, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Gandalf The White along with Thranduil and Winduirost.

Marillalote, Legolas and Nenselde’s daughter, would be born shortly after the wedding in the Fourth Age 225.

Marillalote:

Name means “Pearl-Blossom” in Quenya.

Was going to be called just "Marilla" but Legolas wanted to pay homage to his late mother.

Born in Tol Eressea, an island of the Undying Lands.

Thanks to having Gimli Gloinul as her godfather, she’s prone to having a Dwarf-like personality; adventurous, strong-willed, along with being able to forge and wield an ax. This is why she’s often called “Dwarf-Kin”.

Also, like a Dwarf, Marillalote is knowledgeable on mining and jewelry-making.

Godmother was Legolas’s childhood friend, Tauriel.

As a Wingildi on her mother’s side, Marillalote inherited the ability to sing wildly.

By the time Marillalote was 20 (seven in Elf years), Gimli, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee would all pass on peacefully.

Would eventually marry Elenimir (“Star-Jewel"), grandson of Elboron (son of Faramir and Eowyn) and his wife, Alasse (daughter of Aragorn and Arwen) in the Fourth Age 500. 

Elenimir and Marillalote would later have two sons and two daughters.

[mace-waz-here]

ART DUMP 2!!!!!!!!!

Petunia is Sam’s cousin cuz I said so also

And bonus I made Caltsy and Petunia in gl2

[the-journey-was-the-point]

Handling It

This fic just came out suddenly XD It's a scene that's been on my mind for a while now, but it only got flowing now.

Summary: Though Linnéa agreed to accompany Fíli on his quest, there's one more hurdle to cross: the Spymaster of Mirkwood whom she works for. Fíli said he'd handle it. Here's his way of handling it. Essentially a sequel to this fic (link)

 “Bard wouldn’t let go of his only apothecary."

“You’re a big lass, he doesn’t tell you what to do.”  

“And what of my handler?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

------

"It's remarkable, really."

The stern-faced Elf gave no indication that he was listening. 

"I mean, I've heard plenty about the power of Elves, but never anything like that."

Maybe if he kept quiet, the Dwarf would leave.

"Don't see any of you Greenwood folk with it."

There was some mirth in the Dwarf's tone that made Dinentir finally deign to acknowledge him. He craned his neck down to see dark hair and a stubble. Kíli. Only the second-born prince of Erebor.

He moved his gaze back to the light-haired ellon in the distance who, in his stark white robes, stood out from his companions.

"Yes, Mithrandir and the Lady of Lórien's tutelage shines through."

"Ah, yeah. He did help Gandalf purge the dragon's stench out of the mountain. Saw it myself."

The Elf's face remained impassive as ever, but Kíli knew those pointed ears were always listening. He knew that more than the Elvenking's advisor, this Elf was the Spymaster of Mirkwood.

"The way he glowed," the Dwarf prince started, fighting back a mischievous smirk, "you ever seen anything like it? That holy light that burns anything foul that it touches?"

Got him. Kíli could feel the Elf still, could hear the gears in his head turn as the rest of the world seemed to stall. Even the gentle breeze ceased for a moment.

The Dwarf pushed further. "Callonduin explained it, I think. Errr, some Elf history about light, and stars, and gems. I didn't really follow. But whatever Galadriel did that made Calarphain turn out like that, it was something else, that's for sure."

Interested now, aren't you? Kíli knew he had fulfilled his task.

"Hard to believe they could make someone that powerful." Kíli's voice dropped to a murmur, as if he were talking to himself. Just as quickly, he scoffed, reverting back to his teasing lilt. "Elves, right? Who knows what else they've got up in those golden trees!"

The Dwarf prince shrugged, finally leaving the Spymaster. Mission accomplished. He knew Dinentir would be sending Linnéa along to investigate. There were things he could get away with saying that his brother couldn't.

After all, he was only the second-born prince.

[halfelf558]

Art Fight Attacks 4-7

I’ve been really bad keeping up with posting here but I’ve been more active for Art Fight this year then previously

Top Left - Kara Dust for StaticCentral

Top Right - Camellia for when_we_stars_fall

Bottom Left - Fileg for @mgcoco

Bottom Right - Sable Leite for megosomamars

[milton-chamberlain]

Commission for @annatars-rings

[finweanladiesweek]

DAY SIX: Original Characters Throughout the line of Finwë, some children are marked down without reference to their mothers, and husbands given wives with no names. Who are these textual ghosts, and how do you create your own original characters to fill these gaps? Who are the indomitable women who braved the house of Fëanor by marrying Maglor, Caranthir, and Curufin? What welcome did the Sinda woman who married Orodreth receive from her husband’s Calaquendi family? Forget Gil-galad’s father, who was his mother? Or do you have original characters without much or any basis in canon—a sister for Orodreth, a mother for Finwë, a wife for a character that wasn’t said to be married in any version of canon, a daughter for your non-canon ship, or someone else? This day is for sharing your original characters within Finwë’s line with the fandom.

These prompts are optional, and we are open to any content about the Finwëan Ladies whether or not you stick to our suggestions! Please tag your posts with #finweanladiesweek AND @ mention this blog @finweanladiesweek​​ so they can be easily found.  If your submission turns into a long post, please put what you can beneath a “Keep reading” divider. If you are posting your submission to AO3, you can add it to the event collection here.

[merilles]

fíriel & bonny ✨

[graedari]

Cringe is dead- revamp your LotR OCs from middle school with your friends (and possibly make another with your other friend @psychicrebelstarlight 👀)

Do I know that they technically aren't possible within the LotR/Hobbit lore canonically? Yes. Will I also incorporate other characters that shouldn't into their lore purely based on what I like? Also yes. You can't stop me.

Luinaren belongs to @junppga and Elenaril belongs to @radjerda

[Image ID in alt]

[gay-in-middle-earth]

LOTRO

Howdy! My name is Oso and welcome to my new LOTRO blog! I'm a gay Latino, who, if you take the people at the forum seriously, is destroying Tolkien's legacy by existing <3 So I've been playing LOTRO on and off, mostly having fun making new characters and outfitting them, but this last update really brought me back with motivation so make new OCs. I can't play MMOS like I used too (darn full time jobs!) But here are some of my new characters!

Name: Rioberto (Rio for short) Pronouns: He/Him Rio's a Guardian, my idea for him was a simple country boy defender of sorts!

Name: Radimir Pronouns: He/Him/They Radimir is actually my OC from FFXIV who's been bouncing around with me as I travel to different places. LOTRO version of Radimir is a Minstrel raised by Hobbits! Keeping up with Radimir having two moms in every universe, he has two Hobbit moms and is happily living in the Shire. Lore breaking? Yeah probably, but I love the Shire.

Name: Saphiro Pronouns: She/her So! Everyone has a Ranger and Saphiro is mine! I also never played a Hunter before and have been having a lot of fun with the class. excited to get her Ranger outfit, if I find anything that fits!

[sotwk]

I love you, supporters of OCs!

I would like to give much-deserved acknowledgement and thanks to my friends, fellow writers, and readers who not only tolerate, but lovingly encourage my creation of copious amounts of Original Characters and all the History and Worldbuilding details that inevitably accompany them.

Instead of, you know, suggesting I get myself checked by a therapist (probably a legit suggestion tbh), they understand that this OC madness IS actually my therapy.

I'm not tagging specific people for fear of accidentally forgetting someone, but I hope you know who you are, and I will keep making an effort you thank you individually. <3

[moonshadovv]

I just realized I never posted this art of my new lotr ocs :V My Rohirrim Léod and my Lorien wood elf Barglînor :) they are very in love.

[edit! pose from @null-entity and tasastock on DA]

[eerieechos]

Finally FINALLY getting around to actually figuring out Quellë’s design

I’ve decided she’s the artist behind most of the murals in Imladris (sorry Alan Lee lol), on the right she’s painting Isildur wielding Narsil against Sauron 👀

[morianar]

Everyone LOOK at this little comic drawn by @mersilisk of my OC Morianar and their OC Nartaima <3

[the-journey-was-the-point]

Where Mortals Go

Another Linnéa-centric fic! This time, featuring another OC of mine, with some shippy tension, introspection, and headcanons for Dúnedain burial customs.

Summary: Following Calarphain's death, Linnéa reflects on what comes after with her Ranger friend. Relationships: Linnéa/Lanthir Warnings: Discussions on death/the afterlife/grief, mentioned grave-robbing

“The fields of Fornost,  the fortress in Rhudaur, and now here. We really need to stop meeting like this.” 

Linnéa turned her head a fraction, acknowledging her companion. She couldn’t deny his point. It was getting a little ridiculous, and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from curling upwards.

“True,” she said, turning back to the fields ahead. “Every time I see you, I’m surrounded by dead things.”

Lanthir leaned back against the fence Linnéa was sitting on and crossed his arms. “But you acknowledge, yes, that each time, you were never there against your will?” Then before she could retort, he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t pry. I’ve accepted that you’re simply a very secretive woman. And I respect that, so long as you don’t stray too far into the dark.”

It was the pattern they established from the moment they met in the wraith-infested fields outside Fornost. Lanthir, a member of the Dúnedain, had been on patrol, making sure no dark powers were stirring up trouble in the old fortress. Linnéa had been foraging then, a lone woman in an accursed land. 

She claimed back then that she was an apothecary searching for rare ingredients (which was technically true, except she hadn’t been looking to make medicine). Though it felt off, Lanthir couldn’t seem to refute her. And ever since then, they ran into each other the same way: Lanthir at work, and Linnéa, a strange woman, with her strange friends, in a place full of dead things. 

Tonight, it was in a small town bordering Cardolan. They were tasked to guard the local graveyard, as the townsfolk had trouble lately with brigands stealing freshly-buried corpses. 

“I noticed there's less of you than before,” Lanthir said. “Where is that hired sword, the one with the dark hair?” There was another one Lanthir found odd. 

“Taran? He left to attend to other business. Family matters.”

“I see. And what of that white-haired Elf?” 

A shadow of grief crossed Linnéa’s features, and she took a moment to respond. When she did, her voice was soft and low. “He passed away recently. His people are laying him to rest in Lothlórien. Our other friend, Callonduin -- they're brothers, if you remember-- he joined them for the service.” 

Lanthir was stunned at the news of the Elf’s passing. He slowly moved off the fence and turned to face Linnéa fully. “I am sorry for your loss. Did he die in battle?”

“He made a sacrifice. We're supposed to be waiting on Callonduin's return. In the meantime we’re,” she made a vexed, clicking sound with her tongue, “We're adrift. We took this job mainly to take our minds off our friend's passing. I'm not sure it's working but,” she then gestured pointedly to the graveyard behind them, “it's something to do.”

Lanthir could only nod and listen to Linnéa vent her frustrations. The apothecary pulled her leg up to rest her heel on the fence, almost hugging it. She didn’t mention that Calarphain’s death had driven a wedge among her friends. She didn’t mention it was making her think about her own life. She was no longer sure how much time she and her companions had until they decided to disband, which put her goal of leaving Middle Earth in a precarious position.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Linnéa kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, while Lanthir stared at his hands, opening and closing his fists. 

“Despite our ancestry,” he began, tentatively, “the Dúnedain tend to live short lives.” The Ranger  paused, mentally formulating his next words. Linnéa finally looked up at him, troubled, but curious. “I've lost my fair share of comrades. It never gets easier. Sometimes I'm grateful for that fact, if it means I never take a life for granted.” He brought a fist up to his chest, solemn and intent as he looked into her eyes. “The pain is proof of love, and I'm happy to bear it each time.”

“Unsurprising,” she responds with some mirth, and maybe a little fondness. It was certainly touching (and astounding) how Lanthir shouldered his grief like a badge. “I run into you Rangers in the worst places. Is there a grave like this one, filled with Dúnedain who've passed?”

Lanthir chuckles a bit, some humor returning to his features. “Nowadays, we make it a point to cremate our dead as soon as we can. Many fall in battle, out in the wilderness, and we are far too aware of what foul things can befall an unguarded corpse.”

In the graveyard behind them, Linnéa heard the sound of someone shoveling dirt. One of the other Rangers had taken it upon himself to close up the graves that had been disturbed. 

“We erect memorials where we can”, Lanthir added, “there's plenty of them out there. Then we try to bring their personal effects back to their families.”

Linnéa nodded, taking in his words. They both turned back to the fields ahead, watching for any signs of beasts or brigands. 

Linnéa wondered how Calarphain’s funeral rites were going. She was reminded of her own mother’s funeral many decades ago. Being half-elven, she outlived most people she met. It was just a little bit more jarring now that she outlived an elf. 

It was a blatant reminder of how long she’d been living, and the years to come stretched out before her, now seeming more infinite than ever. 

“If it's any consolation,” Lanthir noted, “I heard Elves go to the Halls of Mandos when they die, where they can be re-embodied after some time. Perhaps one day Calarphain can be reunited with his family.”

“And what of Men?” She wondered. “What happens when they die? Do you expect to see all your fallen kin once more?” Would Linnéa one day rest among her Elven father’s people, or witness whatever fate awaits Men upon death? 

Or would she simply be doomed to an eternity of life on Middle Earth? 

“No one knows what happens when Men die. It's our kind’s greatest mystery, and I imagine it'll stay that way for a long time.”