I was tagged by @fahrradmir thank you, Lavi ❤️❤️
Name: Neve Nickname: None Gender: Female Height: 5'6" I think, 167cm Age: 16 Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw all the way! Time Right Now: 10:22pm Average Hours of Sleep: 5-9 hours Lucky Numbers: None I don’t think Last thing I googled: 5'6 feet in cm, don’t measure myself in cm Favorite fictional character: Thorin and The Hound 💚 Blankets I sleep with: a duvet Favorite Bands/artists: Iron Maiden Dream Trip: Anywhere in Scandinavia Dream Job: Not sure… What I’m wearing right now: Vest and Leggings When did you make this blog: A few weeks ago I think Posts: no idea, a lot What I post about: LotR/ The Hobbit, occasionally skyrim and others Why did you get tumblr: Wanted it for a while, it’s a really cool place Do you get asks on a regular basis: Nope not at all, I’d love to talk to more people though :( Why did you pick your username:
Thorin has majestic braids
—————-RULES—————- Put your music on shuffle and post the first 10 songs and then tag 10 people, (less than 10)
1. Elembívos by Eluveite
2. The Obsessive Devotion by Epica
3. Imaginaerum by Nightwish
4. Wild Flower by Adrian Von Ziegler
5. Cry Just a Little by Avantasia
6. Hell to Pay by Five Finger Death Punch
7. Legion of Monsters by Disturbed
8. The Animal by Disturbed
9. Who by Disturbed
10. Don’t Stay by Linkin Park
“But Eöl, though stooped by his smithwork, was no Dwarf, but a tall Elf of a high kin of the Teleri, noble though grim of face; and his eyes could see deep into shadows and dark places.”
JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion.
If you wander into his forest you’d basically better be prepared to marry him.
Illustration and border design by Soni Alcorn-Hender
This description of Melko entering the World makes me laugh:
Now swiftly as they fared Melko was there before them, having rushed headlong flaming through the airs in the impetuosity of his speed, and there was a tumult of the sea where he had dived and the mountains above him spouted flames and the earth gaped and rocked; but Manwë beholding this was wroth.
How to piss off Manwë: make your Grand Entrance to the universe by hurtling out of the sky like a comet and canonballing into the ocean.
Mandos is responsible for the judgement of the spirits of all elves. He also has responsibility for pronouncing the dooms and judgments of Eru Ilúvatar under Manwë. His real name is Námo (Quenya; "Ordainer" or “Judge”) but was later known by the Elves as Mandos after his sacred halls Halls of Mandos, over which he presides and where ultimately the Elves go after they are slain.
[Image description: Drawing of a stick-figure girl holding a little stick-figure angel. Above them are the words, “POTS Problem #22: Hope!” The angel is flailing its arms and legs, crying, “OUCH! That hurts!” The girl, with tears in her eyes, plucks a feather off the angel’s wing and says, “Yeah, well, you got too big, and now I hurt.”]
“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all…”
- Emily Dickinson
I’ve learned through my journey with POTS that there’s a fine line between just enough hope and too much hope–I mean, you need hope in order to keep going, we all do, but when you have a chronic condition and you hope too much…it just really hurts. This has happened a lot recently, with meeting a new doctor and trying new things. There’s excitement, because finally–finally!–we’re doing something! And infusions help a lot of POTS patients–so maybe they’ll help me, right? And all of these supplements help with fatigue, so maybe I’ll feel less tired, right? And I had a couple good days right in a row, so maybe I’m getting better, right?!
Emily Dickinson likens Hope to a bird that sings its little tune, not asking a thing from me or you–but every once in a while the bird starts to sing too loudly. The Hope gets too big. And when the tune crescendos into the grand finale…it fizzles out. You’re just left feeling disappointed. Defeated. Pretty darn hopeless.
I had a good day on Friday. I went to bed and actually thought to myself, “Hey, maybe things are getting better!” And I promptly reminded myself not to think that way–not to let Hope sing too loudly. Good days are good days, and I can be grateful for them–but I have learned not to hope that they become the norm. Today has been a very bad day. I can hope that tomorrow will be a tiny bit better.
I don’t say all of this to discourage any of you–this isn’t your reality, this is mine. I don’t know what medications or treatment options you’ve tried; I don’t know where you are on your POTS journey. I know that I have tried pretty much every medication out there–I know infusions haven’t yet help me and physical therapy has yet to give me noticeable improvement. I know that I’ve been to Mayo twice and actually feel like maybe I’m getting worse.
I know that I might never get better.
But here’s the deal: I will still hope. Not that I will have a perfect day, and not that I will wake up one morning symptom free–I will hope to be useful in some little way. I will hope to help someone on their journey. I will hope that, someday, God will let me see the bigger picture and show me how I played a part in it. And I will hope to feel a little bit better tomorrow. I will hope that I can put away dishes without feeling the need to collapse for an hour or two. But I won’t hope too big for those sorts of things. I will let Hope sing its little song, but softly, somewhere in the back of my mind. I will let it be a quiet melody that wakes me in the morning and carries me throughout the day.
And I will hope that all of you will hope with me.
“There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of life. Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words, ‘Wait and Hope.” ― Alexandre Dumas
Aredhel and Celegorm
“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 heart’s love given”. Tolkien, Silmarillion, Chapter 5 Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië.