#the grey havens

[allisonchinart]

The Grey Havens sketch | x | Sketchbook

[where-our-stories-start]

[cantsayidont]

In an undated letter written in the late 1950s, reproduced in THE LETTERS OF JRR TOLKIEN, Tolkien alludes to the legal difficulties Sam faced after returning from the Grey Havens at the end of LORD OF THE RINGS:

When Master Samwise reported the ‘departure over Sea’ of Bilbo (and Frodo) in 1421, it was still held impossible to presume death; and when Master Samwise became Mayor in 1427, a rule was made that: ‘if any inhabitant of the Shire shall pass over Sea in the presence of a reliable witness, with the expressed intention not to return, or in circumstances plainly implying such an intention, he or she shall be deemed to have relinquished all titles rights or properties previously held or occupied, and the heir or heirs thereof shall forthwith enter into possession of these titles, rights, or properties, as is directed by established custom, or by the will and disposition of the departed, as the case may require.’

You can see how the residents of Hobbiton might have seen Sam's return as the premise of a kind of Agatha Christie mystery plot: favorite servant of eccentric middle-aged local resident departs on an unexpected journey with his master; returns home alone two weeks later; and then conveniently produces a copy of said eccentric local resident's new will, naming the servant the heir to all his property — and the only account the servant can offer of his master's whereabouts is a preposterous story about Elves. Suspicious! Very suspicious indeed!

[velvet4510]

It puzzles me that Jackson’s script explicitly describes the ship on which Frodo, Bilbo, Gandalf & the Elves leave as “the last ship to leave Middle-earth.” Like, not only is this canonically false, and many more ships left for Valinor in the Fourth Age, but it seems to be trying to erase/ignore the fact that Sam will be allowed to sail West someday. It seems to want to imply that in the movieverse, Sam will never see Frodo again, to which I can’t help but ask … WHY??? Like why cut the line where Frodo tells Sam his time may come, leaving hope for viewers who haven’t read the books???? How does taking out Tolkien’s ray of hope/eventual happy reunion ending and making the goodbye seem permanent serve any purpose???? IMO, it’s one of the worst changes the films made.

[lowcountry-gothic]

​ grey haven, by Jian Guo.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! Can I please request Finrod x reader (loved your mark of the werewolf headcanons) for the breeding kink, where even though he does not transform, he's in a sort of rut/heat because of the mark and the reader (AFAB) helps him through it/mates with him?

Aha. You have great taste, I see.

"Strange needs"

Pairing: Re-embodied Finrod x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV) | Location: Grey Havens

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Heat/Rutting | Kissing | Explicit Language | Breeding kink | Marking/Hickies | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie

Summary: Experiencing the effects of the mark left on him for the first time, Finrod has to turn to someone else for relief.

Word count: 1.3k+ words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥 | Minirs DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: I wrote from the point of Finrod experiencing this for the first time.

The world had changed since he walked it last.

Finrod, too, had changed, and in ways he did not consider possible. A mark was upon him. It was the burden he had to bear upon his return to Middle-Earth. He could feel it in the strange beat of his heart. It was there whenever he examined himself in a silvered looking glass, and his eyes blazed like twin flames. They blazed when he was wroth, and they blazed when passions were inflamed. The former he fought to control, and succeeded. The latter on the hand…

The latter could not be suppressed. And there were certain times—not always, but certain times—when the call to lose himself in the flesh of another was unbearable. Finrod did not know what it meant. All he knew was that it frightened and shamed him. He could not approach the healers; none had dealt with an elf that had borne the mark of a werewolf. He could not approach Círdan either. His host departed on an urgent matter, bidding him to stay behind. That was nigh on a year ago, just after Finrod arrived and became better acquainted with Círdan and all those who dwelled with him. Until he returned, Finrod could do nothing but bear it all in silence, sometimes disappearing into the woods surrounding the Grey Havens. To see the world anew, he would say, making his excuses. The others would accept it and go about their day. He would walk and walk and walk until he was far away from prying eyes. Desperate for some relief, he would lean against a tree, his hand moving to rest between his thighs. The peace that followed was welcomed but brief. The call always returned and was always fiercer than before. This was how it was, and how it continued, until one of the Edain, a maiden that served in the kitchens, came upon him while looking for herbs. Finrod, thoroughly ashamed after being found out, ashamed of his weakness, confessed and laid his secrets bare. You were willing enough to hear him out. You even agreed to help him.

He was reluctant and unsure. Both of you were not wed, had made no promises to each other. Still, you insisted. It would be better to have this hunger satisfied now, you counseled, and with a bedmate who was willing and agreeable. Why wait until the strange needs that plagued him overwhelm him completely?

Finrod retreated to his chambers. He kept away from you and the others while he thought and thought. He pondered what you said, and for many days on end. He considered refusing. It was dishonorable, was what it was. He felt like he was taking advantage. Then he remembered the vicious tug, the need that would lash at him like a whip without warning. Would it truly be wise to ignore it, allow it to consume him to the point of madness? Where it may result in him doing something that could cause irreparable harm because he could no longer control himself? Finrod knew he could not let that happen. He found some wisdom in what you said. Finally, he sought you out and came to your chambers while the others were in the feasting hall, singing. The sounds that carried all over Círdan’s great home were wondrous to the ear, and hopefully, Finrod thought, loud enough to drown out all else.

Permission was sought. Permission was willingly given. His entire body was on fire, and filled with the unmistakable desire to just take and take and take, until there was nothing left for him to devour. He bent down to kiss you, his mouth tasting of wild berries and rich red wine, his touch impatient and greedy. He yearned to be gentle, to take things as slowly as he could possibly manage, but when his lips pressed against yours, when a strangled whimper greeted him, the need to sate the hunger that burned within rose to claim him, making him forget himself. Your dress lay in a ruined heap. His own raiment was right beside it. He threw his arms around you, lifted you, and carried you to bed.

All thoughts of proper behavior abandoned him. Finrod kissed you, hot, hungry, and demanding. The words that parted his lips were shocking.

“From this night forth, you are mine.”

“Take it all inside you. I insist.”

“See how well you take my cock. It is as if you had been made for me.”

He would brush his nose against your throat, your arms, as if he were drinking in your scent. He sucked down on tingling flesh, his teeth leaving a mark all of their own. Your skin was soon covered in bruises. It did not matter. You would simply cover them with longer sleeves, a high-necked collar, and with the seasons having changed and the days growing exceedingly colder, no one would have reason to question you.

Finrod rolled his hips, moaning softly whenever he sheathed himself in the wet heat of your cunt. The warmth of your body, its softness, the lushness that engulfed him, and the limbs that entwined around him were all that he had craved for and more. His lips plundered without end. His hand streaked down and your breast filled his palm, its hardened peak filling his mouth. Your moan was low and animal-like, as intoxicating to him as fine wine. You drew him closer, arching your back, crying out his name, crying out in ecstasy. The first orgasm struck you quickly, like a bolt of lightning. It was wholly unexpected, a shock to you both.

"Eager for my seed already," he growled against your throat. "That is what you want, yes?"

"Not just your seed." You whined softly when teeth nipped at your flesh, and confessed. “I will not lie when I say I have always desired you, my lord.”

Finrod shivered, half-whispering words in a tongue you did not know. The language was ancient, from another time and place, but they were tender, and as sweet as honey. They brought about fresh needs, feeding them until they had you ensnared in their grip, and left you helpless. Finrod took you up, taking you higher and higher; his rhythm was ceaseless. A new wildness came over him, one that was both swift and brutal. Losing himself in the flesh of another was no longer enough. He wanted to fill you with his seed. He plunged deep and plunged hard, your name coming out like a sob. He rose to his knees and took you with him. 

The room felt like it was spinning, and turning faster and faster. Your rhythm matched his, desperate, frantic, your vision blurring and dimming. Finrod latched onto the crook of your throat. The sting of his teeth grazing tender flesh was barely felt. He took you higher still, over the peak and over the edge, until you were falling into a darkened chasm of euphoric bliss. Finrod could no longer constrain himself. He allowed himself to shatter against the rocks and surrendered without shame. With one last glorious thrust, he emptied himself inside of you. 

Outside, the others were still singing. No one had come to knock on your doors. Finrod slowly dragged himself out of the fog that had surrounded him. He opened his eyes, found yours fixed on his. His hand slowly moved to rest over your belly. A smaller one moved his. It was yours. 

Finrod reflected on his actions, on what just happened, and on the consequences of the choice you both made. Desire and need receded. Shame slowly took its place.

What have I done?

His hunger had been sated, but at what cost? And would this be the end of it at last? Finrod suspected it would not, not as long as he bore the mark of the beast he slew. He now knew he would need you near him, and that was not all. He needed to speak to your kin, and soon. He had to protect you, your honor. He also had questions. 

"About what you said earlier," he began, and touched your cheek. His palm was so warm, it reminded you of the fine bolts of silk merchants brought with them to the Grey Havens. "About you always desiring me. Is that true?"

"Yes," you reply, hoping this encounter will not be the last and that something deeper and more meaningful may come out of it. Being with him had been your greatest wish for almost a year, ever since he first arrived. Such wishes had treated as a fool's dreams, and dismissed as such. Finrod was a high elf. You were a daughter of the Edain. Never did you truly believe he would even consider you until tonight. "From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my lord."

Finrod nodded, and made a decision. "Tomorrow you will take me to your kin. I will speak to them, and make the necessary arrangements. Everything will have to be hurried along. There will be a great many questions, I am sure, and I insist on answering them myself. I hope you understand why. For now, tell me more about yourself, y/n."

[lilolilyr]

𝕄𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕣'𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕪 (into the west)

[ioannemos]

The Grey Havens by David Arkenstone

😭

the HORNS... oh man, that's the good stuff 🧡

[lotr-calligraphy]

And as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:

Poems in the Lord of the Rings [82/82]

[art-of-mtg]

The Grey Havens (The Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-earth) - Alayna Danner

[hiddenvioletsgrow]

the arcadian wild and the grey havens my beloveds

[lucigoo]

Ghost of a King

So, this song https://open.spotify.com/track/2yEtO5IzwNttQ4SG38PDnF?si=cdc30ad8431444e7 And these lyrics:

Met a ghost of a king on the road When I first felt fire burnin' To my knees to my knees I fell Met a ghost of a king on the road Words of fire He said, "You are a lonely soul With a heart of stone That rakes against your thirsty bones Such a lonely soul" Said, "I can show you what can save you But we need to go"

Where no chariot can take you Where the river meets the sand There is water there that can quench your thirsty bones And make you well, make you well

So I followed the ghost of a king With every step I tried to see beyond For a trace of the riverside But restlessness was my prize And then we came upon a golden shore But the voice of fire wasn't coming from a ghost no more My heart of stone came alive When my eyes were opened up And I saw that I had come

Where no chariot can take you Where the river meets the sand There is water there That can quench your thirsty bones And make you well, make you well

So I knelt beside the river And I drank until, I drank until, I drank until I died But something in the water Must have brought me back, it brought me back It brought me back to life

Where no chariot can take you Where the river meets the sand There is water there that can quench your thirsty bones And make you well

Where no chariot can take you Where the river meets the sand There is water there that can quench your thirsty bones And make you well, make you well Screamed Bagginshield to me, which ofc means have a new inspired fic because I just couldnt help myself A heart of stone and Fire in his soul

[elven-grimoire]

The Grey Havens | Alayna Danner for Magic: The Gathering

[velvet4510]

The scene at the Grey Havens has so much unsaid. Sam does not detail everything that they all said to each other before the ship departed. While I don’t hate the total silence depicted in the films, it’s much more likely and realistic that the hobbits and Gandalf did have much to say to each other, which Sam chose to keep private and out of the record.

I headcanon that Pippin must’ve needed a moment to say goodbye to Gandalf, too. He really grew closest to Gandalf out of all the hobbits besides Frodo. A sizable chunk of the story focuses on the two of them in Gondor. While Pippin often annoys Gandalf throughout the story, it is clear that there is always affection there. Then it was their teamwork that saved Faramir. Gandalf especially must’ve really admired Pippin for his bravery and maturity during the siege and the Morannon battle.

I imagine while Frodo was hugging Merry goodbye, and Sam stood aside crying, Pippin asked if Gandalf really had to go, prompting Gandalf to confirm his time really was over. (Billy Boyd says a moment similar to this was filmed for but cut from the movie.)

Then Pippin lowered his head in tears. Gandalf touched Pippin’s chin, gently raised it to allow their eyes to meet, and tenderly said with a smile, “Farewell, fool of a Took.” And Pippin couldn’t help but smile at that.

[lowcountry-gothic]

The Grey Havens, by Matthew Stewart.

[alicebeckstrom]

“And latest of all the Keepers of the Three Rings rode to the Sea, and Master Elrond took there the ship that Círdan had made ready.” ~ The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power (Art: "Departure at the Grey Havens” by Ted Nasmith)