ereborskingarchive2

[ereborskingarchive2]

this blog may be archived and remade.

#hello my name is mental illness . #i’m contemplating it . #things have just been difficult . #but his birthday is coming up … #i adore you all .

[ereborskingarchive2]

*

#thank you for all the kind comments and those who have continually checked up on me . #between everything and having sort of … uncomfortable or odd feelings about this blog #i am going to be focusing on my new blog / new fixation to refresh myself . #i forgot to mention this before but : #while it always warms my heart when friends keep me on their lists #if you feel the need to take me off of your mains of exclusives during my various hiatus times #i do understand and it will not upset me . #i adore all of you .

[ereborskingarchive2]

#death tw #my father has passed . i don’t know when i’ll be here . when i’ll respond to messages . #i am sitting by his side now and things will never be okay again .

[ereborskingarchive2]

night threatens to fall an hour early at his arrival.     the sun is hidden from the sky,   obscured by dark and heavy clouds which let her golden rays pass only scantly and light everything but the nazgûl - lord’s large form,   shining on him but not illuminating him.   black yet shines his raiment in a hue of blinding nothingness,   darker than dark ;    but his riding armor is bright,  and forged hard and cruel.    he needs no armor,   for death cannot come for him   ( deathless is he who walks alongside sauron! never knowing illness,   never falling to the weakened body and mind of old age.    never shall he die!    such is annatar’s gift. )    but it is worn nonetheless,   if only for the helmet to sit upon his unseen face as a symbol of his status and as heavy as a crown.

he has dismounted his horse already.    the black steed is restless for a mere moment until its master’s gauntleted hand,   sharp as a beast’s claws,   calms the animal in an unexpectedly gentle gesture by soothing it with a steady hand.     the witch - king turns his head to thorin son of thrain,   and two lights glint coldly from within the darkness where a face should be to meet thorin’s pale blue in the place of a greeting.

❝   rejoice,  king of erebor!   my good and merciful lord provides your people with yet another chance to earn his favor,   ❞         his voice is even - toned but terrible to hear nonetheless,    the emphasis on your people weighs heavy in the air.      he leaves his mount for the present and stands now before the master of this land,   tall and proud and still,   almost as peaceful and amiable as an emissary of great númenórë of old at the height of her glory.         ❝   and he hopes you do not waste it.   ❞

the shadow stretches its hand to the lone mountain and darkens its fringes as a fist prepares to grip .   skies turn grey with the migration of foul intent !   wings upon which herald destruction’s nigh flight .   through darkness hence rode once more outward along this murky flutter a black - clad horseman to the dwarf - king’s gates .   atop the ramparts the ruler doth stood   ( now a second time amidst the black air ,   to which you said neither yea nor nay !   more perilous are your decisions now ,   and days must be bided for ,   your burglar’s life at hand )   ,   mithril - haired as white as frosted stars no longer seen .   he leads erebor through this ever - night ,   the last shining of the east,   olden yet unwavering as the frozen peak .   hard ice - blue eyes look down with tapering corners to meet the faceless pitch swathed in metal .   erebor does not cower before such threats .   he will not let it .

( y’shouldn’t meet him !   dwalin insists as they tread down stone steps ,   but the mountain - king offers naught save a solemn squeeze to the dwarf’s shoulder as great gates swing wide .   without choice ,   he has to . )   shield of the east ,   the white - raven !   donned in his finery that flows behind him alike feathers as he traversed out upon the short bridge ,   crowned head held high and mien cool as the light - less mist that has settled across the land .   the clink of metal tells him that his guards have marched dutifully behind him , led by dwalin .   his gaze flickered between the steed and the figure ,   narrowed beneath his grayed brows .   this one is not the same as the first ,   clearly ,   lest my age and eyes deceive me .   halting at the end of the bridge ,   he nearsightedly met the face’s lights once more  ( you will not bow ,   nor offer the first greeting ,   for this being is even less welcome than the first .   o silver lord ! )   .   nothing is cause for rejoice ,   that he knows ,   and the dwarf’s thudding heart hitched warily .

“ the king of erebor did not know his first proffered chance had been rescinded , ”   returned he ,   even - toned despite the hand that strays to rest upon the hilt of the sword worn by his side ,   thumb smoothing over it .   the dwarf’s upper lip curled a tad ,   indignation like a burning frost   ( alas ,   if only balin was there to give him council ,   he thinks )   .   still ,   composure stubbornly unruffled ,   his head inclined sideward with slow speculation as color - less locks blew back in the wind .   “ why does your lord wish to hurry erebor’s favor ? ”   the last word comes sharply .   “ did i not say to your first rider that the time of my thought is my own to spend ? ”

#in character . #ringwrath #i love this so much . #thorin squinting : excuse me .

[ereborskingarchive2]

there is grief in my dreams,

garments against women: the innocent question by anne boyer (via decreation)

#black - draped mien hides caverns .

[ereborskingarchive2]

𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗          𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭   ( an unexpected journey )   .

it began long ago in a land far away to the east ,   the likes of which you will not find in the world today   . . .

#imagery . #mutuals with a tag may reblog . #personals do not reblog . #tales of the age once great .

[ereborskingarchive2]

𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗          𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭   ( an unexpected journey )   .

. . .   had it not been for that mark on the door .

#imagery . #mutuals with a tag may reblog . #personals do not reblog . #he must go forth anon . #this is one of my favorite th/orin smiles . warm smile fuzzy beard . #big ears . i love him so much .

[ereborskingarchive2]

and i myself for long, o death, have breath’d my every breath amid the nearness and the silent thought of thee.

walt whitman, from “death’s valley”, leaves of grass (via soracities)

#he is rich with gold and gore .

[ereborskingarchive2]

third base is when you both discuss your emotional trauma with one another 

#black - draped mien hides caverns . #* ringwinner : within his eyes he saw fireflies ; alike love's glow that has him caught . #* caritaas : emerald of his singing in the depths of the darkest cave ; devotion's shine . #* madalgun : he is the one for whom he would set ablaze great forges .

[ereborskingarchive2]

Q :   𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ?          A :   𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑷𝑻𝑶𝑹 .

to him ,   love is not a fixed concept .   it is fluid and ever - changing ,   and we possess the ability to shape it around ourselves ,   and create rich lives filled with love of our own design .   he revels in the breathtaking beauty of the concept of love .   the way we shape its course in our conversations and our gifts ,   the things we do for one another and the thoughts we share .

#interpretation . #he is the son of the mountain . #tagged by: no one . #tagging : whoever would like to do this . #ah yes ; he the romantic at heart . #i love this .

[ereborskingarchive2]

EVENTUALLY ,  that  was  bound  to  come  bite  him  in  the  ass .    lorne  knew  it ,  and  those  that  were  privy  enough  to  the  meaning  knew  it  as  well   –   which  left  few  in  their  group  who  didn’t  just  see  it  as  a  term  of  endearment .    the  time  had  come  where  such  endearment  was  brought  out  in  the  open ,  questioned  because  WHY  would  he  choose  something  like  that ?    the  pylean  took  a  moment ,  as  if  he  hadn’t  heard  the  question ,  as  if  thorin  was  perhaps  talking  to  someone  else .    after  that  breath ,  lorne  turned  his  head  towards  the  man  and  raised  his  brows ,  feigning  to  be  caught  of  guard .    “    what ?    ”    another  breath  and  he  knew  he  would  not  be  playing  his  way  out  of  this  one .    “    well …    by  CERTAIN  standards ,  you  are  considered …    bear - like .    ”    which  was  no  PROPER  answer ,  but  if  he  could  prolong  a  proper  explanation ,  he  would .

lo !   suspicious becomes the stone - glow within his eyes ,   their age - creased corners tapering slowly amidst the prolonged silence as still as any drip - less cave .   fine - haired brows settle heavily atop his steadfast gaze   ( how your skepticism sparkles !   all the more starkly ,   suffering no ignorance of its growing gleam )   .   “ —————   lorne , ”   the dwarf speaks with baritone disbelief cutting into the other’s name .   bear - like   . . .   ?   his sight glanced the pylean up and down searchingly as hesitancy pursed upon his lips ,   though to the small smile his mouth holds ,   glittering with an enquiring line .   that doesn’t seem right .   what isn’t he telling me ?   he was no fool !   meager may forever be his knowledge of this re - made earth ,   but he knew when all was not being told to him   ( your sister would say you were too suspicious as ever !   the miner that doth not pick his newfound gem ‘til he is certain there are none of better repute )   .   it is something he dislikes ,   not knowing ,   his posture shifting more onto one leg than the other as he held his ground alike the budge - less mountain .   “ tell me what you know . ”   the drawl expectant ,   if not a tad exasperated .   “ what standards are these ?   they are none that i know   —————   and you seem to . ” 

#in character . #caritaas #him pretending he hadn't heard thorin for a moment had me CACKLING . #lorne dear ; i am afraid you ' re courting with a very stubborn dwarf that likes to know things .

[ereborskingarchive2]

missionary so we can continue our argument from before

#black - draped mien hides caverns . #longing and yearning and daring he feels . #* ringwinner : within his eyes he saw fireflies ; alike love's glow that has him caught . #* caritaas : emerald of his singing in the depths of the darkest cave ; devotion's shine . #* madalgun : he is the one for whom he would set ablaze great forges . #nsfw ment /

[ereborskingarchive2]

Q :   𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 ?          A :   𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 .

RATIONALITY   he likes clarity and intelligent simplicity and he gets frustrated at messy thinking .   this can make him seem unreasonably pushy to some ,   but it is actually a virtue :   he is motivated by a horror at pointless effort and a longing for precision and insight into how things and people work .   his ability to synthesise and bring order is essential in producing thinking which is truly helpful .

REVERANCE   one part of him dreams of giving himself up   —————   perhaps just for a while     —————     to a hero or mentor .   in the right circumstances he can flourish by letting go of his ego .   in his inner life ,   reverence plays out as a willing submission to his own conscience .   in the outside world ,   he might get frustrated searching for something worth believing in   —————   a country ,   a person ,   a company     —————   but he will always be open to feeling respect ,   admiration ,   and wonder .

AUTHORITY   he is good at making decisions ;   he has a clear sense of what needs to be done and what others should be doing .   played out inside himself ,   this tendency drives him to value willpower and self - control .   he may be accused of bossiness .   but acting on his desire to dissuade ,   restrain ,   or guide is often appreciated by others   —————   who might secretly like a clear direction ,   and some firmness .

RESILIENCE   he has a tendency ,   after a setback ,   to turn his emotions towards restriving .   what attracts him is the idea of wiping out a humiliation by resumed action   —————   overcoming weakness ,   repressing his fear .   because part of his motive is pride ,   he can sometimes be unwilling to admit weakness or to receive aid .   but at heart ,   his insistence on coming back and never folding has taught him a valuable pessimism :   he knows that important journeys are never easy .

#interpretation . #he is the son of the mountain . #tagged by : caritaas . #tagging : whoever would like to do this . #thank you for tagging me dearest i adore you . x #and this questionnaire is such fun .

[ereborskingarchive2]

“ . . .   ‘ little brown bear ’ ? ”   the dwarf repeats aloud ,   a brow arching incredulously at the other despite the glimmer of mirth that made glow chalcedony stones set for eyes .   though the frown he bears insists on indignance ,   the quirking corners of his mouth aid little that affronted mien   ( did you hearken truly ,   o dwarf of yore ,   or had you misheard ? )   .   many are the endearments which his emerald bestows upon him   —————   does he never draw a blank on these ?   he wonders   —————   yet this stands apart alike the glitter of gems amongst rocks from which the prying miner doth picks .   the small grin he endeavors to dissuade breaks across his features, head tilting slightly as his arms crossed atop his broad chest .   “ you know my story with bears ,   ‘ibinê .   tell me ,   how do you justify this one ? ”          @caritaas​

#in character . #caritaas #tis i ; here to once again pound on your door demanding #content for them ... i love . x #i have been thinking about this for days okay . #thorin : alright explain to me your endearment choice of the day .

[ereborskingarchive2]

he cries with emptiness, cries and cries, because emptiness has more tears than anything else.

stig dagerman, a moth to a flame (burnt child) (trans. benjamin mier-cruz)

#he is rich with gold and gore .

[ereborskingarchive2]

𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗          𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭   ( an unexpected journey )   .

i thought as much .   he looks more like a grocer than a burglar .

#imagery . #mutuals with a tag may reblog . #personals do not reblog . #he must go forth anon . #that smirk at the end ; utterly mesmerizing .

[ereborskingarchive2]

…your voice, the colour of a cautious dawn.

vladimir nabokov, letter to his wife véra (1924), letters to véra (ed. brian boyd & trans. olga voronin)

#he is rich with gold and gore .