These are available to purchase on 11/24 - they are in preview mode until then.
Each limited edition glass perfume pendant is blended with shimmer mica in a handmade glass perfume pendant containing 7 ml of fragrance for Legolas and 9 ml for Thranduil. Legolas is $25.95 and Thranduil is $27.95.
Fragrance - Ethereal notes of smooth, pale musk and warm golden amber are blended with the ageless beauty of climbing ivy, crisp water mint, earthy vetiver, soft leather, creamy sandalwood, and night-blooming frangipani blossoms. This fragrance captures an indescribable feeling of timeless grace and sophistication, with a fresh yet earthy accord that is suitable for men and women.
Key Notes - Water mint, Ivy, Vetiver, Frangipani, Sandalwood, Amber, White musk
Fragrance - Newly fallen red autumn leaves and bright red currants adorn the fall crown of the Elvenking, beautifully sculpted from the twisting tendrils of ancient woods. Rich flavors of juniper berries, bergamot, dark spice, caramel and bourbon vanilla quietly flow beneath regal florals of jasmine, dahlia, and French lavender. Earthy notes of vetiver, amber, dark patchouli, creamy sandalwood, warm cedar, and crisp aspen add depth and bring balance to the fragrance, subduing the soft floral notes, creating a scent that is a warm melody of traditionally feminine and masculine notes. Strong, beautiful, and ageless, Thranduil’s fragrance is scent befitting an Elvenking.
Key Notes - Red autumn leaves, Red currants, Juniper berries, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Aspen, Vetiver, Warm florals, Bourbon vanilla)
Concept: you know how most media depicts Tolkien-style elves as being super jaded by immortality?
What if it was the opposite?
Like, you have stories where a sad thing happens and an elf cries for a hundred years, or where courtships last for decades, or what have you. Let’s run with that: part of the whole immortality deal is that elves’ emotional responses don’t attenuate as readily as humans’ do.
New relationship? The “heady infatuation” stage lasts for years, not months.
Heard an awesome song? Hearing it for the hundredth time is just as moving as hearing it for the very first.
Favourite food? Eat it for every meal and never get sick of it.
Basically, what I’m saying is imagine elves being really, really annoying because they respond
to everything like they’re experiencing it for the very first time, even when you know they’ve seen it a thousand times before.
Consider a fantasy story where, as often seems to happen in this genre, a young human is pulled from their world into a world of magic and elves and wizards and prophecies.
But this happens just about every other Tuesday in this world because the resident soothsayer is a little trigger-happy and is spouting off prophecies left and right. So there’s been an influx of teenaged humans without adult supervision and the reigning queen had to set up an investigative bureau and a complaints department just to deal with this problem.
So our human protagonist finds themselves in a dark spooky forest, stuck in some kind of ewok-style trap. Along comes a bearded elf (don’t tease him about the beard, he’s trying to make a good impression on the dwarf lady in charge of his department) who looks up at the net, sighs, and out comes the paperwork.
“If you wouldn’t mind, please state your name, age, and how you came to this realm.”
“How what now?”
“What was it? Wardrobe? Magic portal? Dragged under the bed by trolls?”
“Um…I just woke up here?” They mumble, confused.
“Alrighty,” the elf flips a few pages. “We’ll just skip to section D then. Any inherent magic? Any strange inheritances received lately?”
“No?” The protagonist leans on the net. “I mean, my former roommate gave me their old David Bowie CD collection, but I don’t think that counts.”
The elf nods once or twice, hard to tell if he’s listening or not, and pencils a few things in. “Alright, we’re almost done with the preliminary stuff, then we can get you out of there and down to the Bureau so we can get you home. Current status of parents or parental figures?”
The protagonist cringes. “Um…not applicable, I guess.”
“Oh dear. And your age again is-?”
At this the elf sighs. “Oh no, not another one. Some days I’d like to shake some sense into that soothsayer, really, I would. I swear I am this close to setting myself up as the next evil wizard around here just so I can keep some of these would-be heroes out of trouble.”
He then flings his pencil, sharp as a knife, and down comes the net with Protagonist inside. The elf helps them to their feet and brushes the leaves off their shoulders.
“Alright then, you,” he grumbles, “Lets get you down to the Bureau with the other three prophecy-kids who turned up this week.”
I was told doing studies of classical paintings is good practice. So I started doing that and then things took a turn…
Here is unofficial “official” potraiture of The House of de Rolo. I think it’s about time I drew my favorite member of Vox Machina… Trinket! Featured here with his mom and step-dad, Vex’ahlia and Percival de Rolo.
I’ll post close-ups later along with the original paintings I referenced. For now I’m on a time crunch. EDIT: The close-ups are here.
Here’s something that will weird you out: The guy on the far right is a dwarf.
In Norse mythology there are two, possibly three, types of elves. Light elves, shadow elves (but not always), and dark elves. There’s no indication that any of them were good or evil, and it seems like they simply got their names from their shade and/or whether they could be in sunlight.
Dwarfs in the old texts aren’t much different from elves. They are described as being regular height, have pale skin, black hair and live underground because sunlight kills them. They’re great craftsmen, and can create not just magical weapons that kill every time they are swung, but also life of flesh and blood. What really sets them apart from elves is that they don’t have any women. They reproduce asexually by magically crafting more dwarfs (again, perfectly biological beings of flesh and blood). They are however not sexless as one story involves Freya sleeping with four of them.
This isn’t something I’ve stuck to in my own mythology art, but I thought it’d be fun for you to know.
They followed him as he stepped lightly up the grass-clad slopes. Though he walked and breathed, and about him living leaves and flowers were stirred by the same cool wind as fanned his face, Frodo felt that he was in a timeless land that did not fade or change or fall into forgetfulness. When he had gone and passed again into the outer world, still Frodo the wanderer from the Shire would walk there, upon the grass among elanor and niphredil in fair Lothlórien.