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ruporas · 1 year

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can’t talk about it

[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic starts with the sounds "thud, thud, click". Vash, mid-action of peeling an apple, turns to the sound, noticing who it was that entered, and says, "Oh, Wolfwood, you're back." He resumes back to his apple in the next panel as he speaks, "Where'd you go? You snuck out of bed quickly this morning..." Wolfwood's hand then enters the panel, hovering over Vash's cheek and Vash looks up as Wolfwood asks, "Can I?" Vash responds, "Not going to talk about it?" while using a hand to gently hold Wolfwood's hovering hand and presses a kiss to his inner palm.

Vash then gets up fully, setting down the knife down on the table and the apple onto a plate, He leans into Wolfwood as Wolfwood explains, "Had to meet someone. Nothing interesting to talk about." Vash kisses Wolfwood's left cheek and a hand moves to cup his other cheek while muttering, "You're being vague." Wolfwood says neutrally, "If yer really that curious, keep askin'. We can talk about that instead of doing this." Vash leans back and responds, "Let's talk after, since... You look so tired."

The panel pans to a close up of Wolfwood's downcast eyes, bags heavy underneath his eyes. He doesn't allow Vash to sit in that moment for long though, then saying, "Yer not helping, Spikey. Being all slow with it... I could fall asleep right now." He moves his hand to start unclasping Vash's coat, starting from his collar. Vash with red cheeks, responds briskly, "Oh, shut up. I'm worried about you. I can't be worried?"

The final shot shows Wolfwood's back to the viewer while Vash's softened expression can be seen as he holds gently onto the side of Wolfwood's face and a hand firm on his waist. Wolfwood responds, "I'm fine, seriously," pausing for a moment before continuing, "Is it okay to still..?" Vash responds, "Yeah, it's okay."

The next image is a shot from later that night after the previous comic. Vash and Wolfwood are now in bed, half naked. Wolfwood's buries his face into Vash's chest, his arms wrapped around him, while Vash is petting at his hair. Vash reminds him, "Hey. You said we'd talk about it." Wolfwood pauses for a moment before piping up, "In the morning? I'm sleepy." Vash says, "Okay..."

The next two pages start from the morning after. Wolfwood is already fully awake, pulling on his outer jacket as he says to Vash, whos' still bundled in his blankets, "Breakfast is on the table. Make sure to eat it. I'm going to grab some things in town and then we're leavin'. Got it?" Vash says, "Mh." Wolfwood responds, "Good. See ya in a bit." The dialogue starts to shift into Vash's inner thoughts now, as he gets up and eats toast, thinking, "Wait. Weren't we supposed to... talk about it?" The next shot then shows him fully up, meeting Wolfwood in town. He carries a half worried expression with him while Wolfwood slides on his glasses for him. A quick panel shows Wolfwood's tired expression from the night before and quickly juxtaposes with Wolfwood in front of him who's smiling gently, the shades covering his eye bags. Wolfwood asks him, "Still not awake yet?" Vash pauses, his thoughts stirring, thinking, "Oh. I guess I was getting ahead of myself... thinking you owe me that kind of honesty." He smiles at Wolfwood and responds, "I'm awake!" His thoughts continue, "Maybe one day, you'd trust me enough to share your burdens."

The final image shows Wolfwood pulling at Vash's cheek and Vash complains, "Owwwww why..." Wolfwood quickly says, "You were thinking something stupid, right? It's all over yer face." Vash mutters, "Nooo, I wasn't..." END ID]

#vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #Theyre both thoroughly exhausted tired individuals -- vash having to fight this lonely battle for over a hundred years and getting dragged #back into inevitable situation with knives after a 2 years hiatus of being a gunslinger. they both need so much Rest and comfort in this #department... .SIGHS. BUT I JUST THINK ABOUT WOLFWOOD . AND HOW... LITTLE He has existed on no man's land. how majority of his years being #alive is being used as a weapon and to kill when him at his very core is the most giving and selfless individual ever #badlands rumble inspired me a bit but i do think wolfwood gets dragged into occasional tasks from the eye of michael while on his duty of #guiding vash -- or i think that one chapter where we got to see other members of eom -- there's like a clear division within the eom too #i think.... so i figured similarly to vash but not to the same amount -- there are people that look for wolfwood too. but most of the time #it's probably wolfwood that has to look for someone else and take them out. i feel like it happens ever so occasionally.#evidentially these two don't talk enough canonically but they always know how to express things properly to affirm that they're okay #they have the worst time ever sharing burdens - can't willingly burden the other and has neeever asked for help or reprieve in their #desperate situations... vw is a huge case of right person wrong time syndrome so they just. in the time they get to spend together -- even #if romantically - they don't have enough time to heal to get over that kind of hurdle. They've just never asked for help in all the years #they've been alive -- they don't even know how to and its just aughhhsgskg #and well! they don't even need to ask! because they'll be there for each other anyway at the end of the day -- company and presence alone.#ruporas art

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ikomahis · 8 days

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𝔏𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫

( Mairon / Sauron's HC redemption yearning wannabe ; post-canon )

⭑ felt sad for my ginger villain so i wrote a lil something for my delulu self

⭑ headcanon of Mairon / Sauron’s possible redemption ; only if he wasn’t stubborn/cowardice/bitter enough to seek for it (which it’s up to us fans to believe what we want. i believe he might after many ages pass and his own anger eats itself)

⭑ short 'what if'

⭑ post-canon ; probably set somewhere in post Fourth Age

⭑ i’m also sucker for redemption arcs, especially for those who weren’t truly evil in their core

⸻⸻⸻ ⚶ ⸻⸻⸻

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒈𝒆.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒-𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑. 𝐶𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙. 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝑀𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝐸𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒, ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙, ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 - 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑.

𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟.

𝑁𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑅𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝐷𝑜𝑜𝑚, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑡, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡.

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𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑, 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ. 𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙, 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑, 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑦.

𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑔𝑛𝑎𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑤. 𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑎𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑚, 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒, 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛.

𝐻𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑒𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑟𝑢 𝐼𝑙𝑢́𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐻𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑣𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡, 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠.

𝐴𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠.

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𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑚, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛. 𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑, ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙.

𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒? 𝐴 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑀𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒-𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ, 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑛𝑜��, 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒.

𝑇𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒?

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𝑀𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑-𝑑𝑢̂𝑟, ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜, ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑑. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 - 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑎, 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦. 𝐴 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐴 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑢𝑙𝑒̈ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑚𝑖𝑡ℎ. 𝑂𝑓 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡ℎ, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟.

𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠. 𝐼𝑡 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛?

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒... ?

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𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛.

𝐴𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛; 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑎 𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑. 𝑁𝑜𝑤, 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑠, ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑟𝑑𝑎, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑟 𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑎 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘.

𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝐴 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐴 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒, 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔.

𝐴 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆.

⸻⸻⸻ ⚶ ⸻⸻⸻

#post lotr #rings of power #sauron #mairon #i need more delulu fans to be my friends #ngl id love to read a story of his life-long redemption #i love to imagine him regaining his form and being forced to serve peoples of middle-earth till final days #eru iluvatar probably giving him this task but the point is that he accepts it #bc the maia in his is slowly coming back #my short writings #i made a mistake by putting this text in fancy font and now im lazy to rewrite it again to be normal ahh maybe i'll edit it later idk #i did cry a bit writing this but now i think i should've made it longer but idgaf it's for those two people who might want this to happen #it's also maybe a bit out of canon bc i added that he feared morgoth in some way but that's well my headcanon at this point so #i want someone to continue this instead of me hahaha or just me to maybe work with someone on it in the future idk #help read more link doesnt work so i cant put it aah

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