Rules: Share the first lines of your ten most recent fics and then tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy—share anyway! Tagged by @tathrin, thank you!
After everything falls apart, most choose not to remember the long years Fingon spent among the sons of Fëanor, close as another brother, in and out of house and hold and forge, learning what they learned from his brilliant uncle’s hands. (In These Altered States, Rejoice. T: 1,400 words)
If the last Lords of Imladris wonder that their grandfather lingers, they do not speak of it. (Not Yet a Song of Remembrance. G: 700 words)
Argon wishes that he could use his paints. (The Music of Sight. G: 500 words)
The Ambarussa begin it, scrabbling among the pebbles in the yard at Formenos one summer, when their elder brothers have found other occupations and Nerdanel is entertaining them alone. (Heart Stones. G: 600 words)
Anairë floats back to wakefulness, subtly aware of another presence in the room. (Shine. G: 400 words)
Legolas’ mother is healing, but the space where her bow arm was still itches and burns. (These Soft Threads That Bind Us. G: 700 words).
The first time Maglor meets the sea, there is a stiff onshore wind. (Ever Upon the Shores. G: 900 words)
Fëanor will not stop weeping. (Half-Foundered. G: 700 words)
It is Fingon -- again -- who leaps the gap that yawns between them, when Maedhros is certain that they have passed all possibilities, have shaped instead some new form of friendship out of Ice and fire and betrayal, found a tentative peace in rescue and reward. (Between the Shadow and the Soul. M: 600 words)
“When she was grown to full stature and beauty she was tall and strong, and loved much to ride and hunt in the forests. There she was often in the company of the sons of Fëanor, her kin; but to none was her hearts love given.” –JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion
I can finally post her. She as a character had always been a beloved of mine, and the sadness of her fate was hard to accept for me! JRRT really did made her very dirty.
Medias: watercolor, acrylics and sepia ink on paper.
PLEASE DON’T REMOVE THE CAPTION NOR REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
Please mark your calendars for FeanorianWeek 2024 :D The date is March 25th-March 31st! I will make a larger post with the prompts within the coming weeks, but for now feel free to suggest newer prompts.
My askbox is open for questions or comments, but please keep in mind I will be less active just due to life. So if I don't respond right away, I'll make sure I get back to you as soon as possible :)
I will usually draw Elros in the clothes I use here but I wanted to try something different for him and I think it turned out pretty! Maybe this was before he became king?
Lalwen doesn’t have the heart to quell Arakáno’s love for wild creatures. Things turn hectic when an eagle egg goes missing. (1,6k words of pure fluff 😄)
Lalwen did not expect the matter with the eagle egg to become such a serious affair, certainly not something that prompted the involvement of the Valar. Although in truth, she should have known all along.
Arakáno already had a long reputation for providing shelter and friendship to any creature that seemed (to him) even slightly in need of comfort. At first, it had been the innocent thing of an elfling barely out of his cradle, when he would pick up fallen nestlings beneath the trees in Indis’ gardens and run carrying them in his small hands. Lalwen would receive the birdling gently from between his clumsy fingers, they would identify its species together before she would climb deep into the tree crowns to return it to its nest.
She could never resist the endless stream of questions that no one else had the patience to answer, never tired of Arakáno’s insatiable curiosity for the world surrounding him. Lalwendë, do fish have eyelids? Are bees just little tigers? Lalwen, do oliphaunts eat with their nose? Is wombat poo really square? Can eagles speak Quenya? Why does Manwë have wings sometimes?
Not sure yet if I'll make the matching Maeglin to go with this conversation, but have a fake Aredhel screenshot + sprite! Used a background from Hades II trailer for the background of the fake screenshot.
From the Years of the Trees to the Fourth Age, from sultry tales of the Silmarillion to romances in the Ring Wars … sound familiar? That’s right, Slashy Swaps are back and it’s once again time to make your Tolkien fanfic dreams come true.
My Slashy Valentine is a hand matched slash fiction exchange focused on the people of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth. Sign ups are now OPEN so spread the word, recruit your friends and fellow authors, and get ready for MSV 2024.
Sign-up Period: December 7th to December 21st
Assignments distributed: by December 28th
Deadline for first time participants: January 31st, 2024
Deadline for veteran participants: February 7th, 2024
Archive opens: February 14th, 2024
Take a look through our rules andfaq – or on AO3 if you’re on the mobile app, because Tumblr – and then come along to ourSIGN UP PAGE and share the adventure.
Silmarillion Daily (2024) is set up and ready for subscriptions! if people are interested in seeing The Silmarillion in chronological order over the course of a year.
Every day from January 20th to December 31st will cover three years of in-book time, running from the Awakening of the Elves at Cuiviénen (Years of the Trees and Years of the Sun will be treated the same). January 1st to 19th will be a prologue covering material prior to the Awakening of the Elves.
This Silmarillion Daily is not associated with the previous newsletter of that name, which ran 2022-2023 and was run by @tolkien-feels (with some help from me in compiling events) and it contains different content.
If you're wondering how long the entries will be, here is a schedule. Entries in yellow are less than 1 page; entries in orange are 2-5 pages; and entries in red are more than five pages.
I imagine Turgon hosting a large party, and Aredhel having enough of the ceremony and sneaking out for a forest ride. She doesn't bother to change out of her fancy clothes, and also can't be bothered to put on a saddle - the cold air is calling, and there isn't time to waste.