#but Nienna is my favorite and she needs more to do

[niennawept]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @lordoftherazzles and by @thenookienostradamus! Thank you both! These are some cool questions!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Thirteen at the moment (not counting an Adar headcanon collection), but likely to be more soon.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 170,865 (not bad for a year and a quarter)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien broadly (so far it's been Rings of Power, The Silmarillion, and The Hobbit - no LotR yet, but I do have an idea for one)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Click with caution, all of these but the second one are rated E; apparently, I am mostly known for Adar smut: Scars of Silver and Gold, Because the world is ending, Mistletoe Mischief, Calendar Girl, Until the Stars Burn Out

5. Do you respond to comments? Might take me a bit, but yes, I always do. I figure that someone gave me a little of their time in writing out a comment and I can give them some of mine in return. It's especially fun when people are predicting things; I love hearing what they think will happen.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Mmmm. I think it's probably Scars? Without spoilers, my protagonist lost something very important to her and although there's a lot of good things about that ending - she's still going to have that loss to grieve in the next fic and it'll inform her next arc. I'd say it's still a bittersweet ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I don't really do purely happy endings? I write a lot of hopeful endings, but most of them have some darkness lurking under them. I guess if I have to pick one, it's into the wild because that's technically a fix-it fic with Nienor getting saved by Mablung. Although, I might continue it some day, and it would inevitably get some Nienna-the-Song-is-tinted-with-grief flavoring.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Uh, yes. I'm not sure what "what kind" means here? I guess I've written a variety- from kind of dreamlike and romantic to fics featuring BDSM-related kinks.

10. Do you write crossovers? I have never written one. I think that I'd probably never directly write one. But I might do something like shove Elrond into the plot of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight for a bisexual awakening set sometime in the Second Age. Not sure if that's a crossover or just a retelling though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. Into Russian, if I remember correctly. It was a long time ago and I'm not in that fandom anymore.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yeah, I'd say my THAUC piece counts as co-written in the sense that my artist partner and I talked through the main ideas and beats of the story together.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Uhhh for Tolkien, I'm afraid I don't have one (I like a lot of ships, but there's not one all-consuming one). So - I guess I pick Sesshomaru/Kagome from Inuyasha? That's the pairing I read when I don't know what else to read.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't start a lot of WIPs. I have a lot more ideas for fics than I have documents or text written, but I do have a Finrod piece that I'm not sure I'll ever finish. I have a lingering idea that might save it, but I think that needs more time in the oven.

16. What are your writing strengths? Mmm - I think worldbuilding, specifically for culture is one of my strengths. I also think that I have a pretty good ability to make OCs that people care about (something that was important with a mostly OC cast).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I struggle with internality a lot. I find thoughts cumbersome to write, because I process most things by talking them out or writing them down. I also think I could tighten up the cast of characters and subplots. It's something I'll definitely be careful with in novels going forward.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It really depends on the fic. In Tolkien's world, I think so much of culture is tied up in language that it's a little hard not to include some bits and snatches of other languages. It's important to provide translations in text, I think, but otherwise, go for it if it's important to your characters and your plot.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Alas, I don't talk about that fandom anymore. The author turned out to be terrible.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Definitely Scars of Silver and Gold. It's my first completed longfic and I'm very proud of it, honestly. Are there some things I'd do differently? Yes. But I do love it. Honorable mention to peaches we devour, dusty skin and all. The YEARNING.

tagging (no pressure, just love): @runawaymun, @polutrope, @melestasflight, @fishing4stars

#niennaanswers #writing tag game #thank you both so much for tagging me! #this was very fun to do

[cilil]

Varda and Nienna for the shipping meme! :D

*squeal* I get to talk about one of my fave wlw ships, the queens of my heart! Thank you😊

Falls asleep on the couch

Nienna. She cried herself to sleep fell asleep while watching her favorite comfort show to unwind after a stressful and emotionally exhausting day.

Makes friends with the neighbors

Nienna again. She's just... naturally friendlier than Varda who can seem a little haughty and cold (people are scared of her).

Is the adventurous eater

Varda. She loves trying whatever her Elf friends make. Meanwhile Nienna, as the sister of the Fëanturi, simply doesn't eat often.

Hogs the covers at night

Nienna. She needs warmth, comfort and her cuddle blankets. Varda doesn't mind though, she has stellar furnaces at her disposal if needed.

Forgets to do the dishes

Varda, and forgets is more like "forgets". She's a true queen in every aspect of her life.

Tries to surprise their partner more often

Varda. She gets a kick out of it.

Leaves dirty laundry on the floor

Nienna, though the laundry in question are her tissues (the ones she uses for crying, you perverts) ((rich coming from me, I know)).

stays up til 2 AM reading

Varda, because she's a huge astrophysics nerd. Sometimes she also does some complicated maths (for example when a certain brother of Nienna's complains about lack of sleep due to celestial bodies not moving like he wants them to).

Sings in the shower

Both of them. They're Ainur, what can I say.

Takes the selfies

Varda. She might even convince Nienna to smile.

Plans date night

Varda. She loves being the active partner and making decisions.

#cílil answers #varda #nienna #varda x nienna #shipping meme #ask game

[phoenixrisesoncemore]

I started this over a year ago and then never posted it. Sorry, my brain has been on vacation.

Thank you for the tag @senadimell! (And sorry for taking so long!)

Hmmm, favorite comfort things. Let’s see...

comfort food: Mashed potatoes. Always and forever mashed potatoes. With meatloaf or salmon cakes, or Swiss steak, or chicken, or beef roast, or anything really, or just by themselves.

comfort clothes: Something soft and flowy. Nightgowns and easy summer dresses. I would absolutely be a mumu person if it were more socially acceptable. In practice more often cotton t-shirts and cotton shorts. Soft soft soft.

comfort item: Unfortunately, my iPhone. There’s an addiction I need to beat. More healthily: a sketch pad and pencil.

comfort character: Phoenix/Jean Grey (X-men), Rogue (X-men), Catwoman (the Michelle Pfeiffer Batman Returns iteration), Eilonwy (The Prydain Chronicles), The Eighth Doctor (Doctor Who—particularly EDA-verse), Nienna (The Silmarillion—I know she barely appears but the idea of her brings me comfort), Wei Wuxian (MDZS/CQL—new addition but I love him and I suspect he’s a permanent fixture in my brain now). KOS-MOS and Shion (Xenosaga).

comfort song: Oh gosh. “Cumulus” by Imogen Heap (I’ve had that on repeat for days while I laid in bed with migraine), “To the Ancient Land” (first track of the Shadow of the Colossus soundtrack), “Figlio Perduto” (Sarah Brightman, La Luna, the tale of the abduction of a young boy by elves set to Beethoven’s 7th, Second Movement—like, can it get any better?), “Glosoli” (Sarah Brightman), “2000 Years” (Billy Joel), “Still” (Alanis Morissette from the Dogma soundtrack), “Mercy (from the Prayer Cycle)” (Alanis), the entire The Phantom of the Opera (original London cast, please), “Phoenix Rises” (John Powell from the X-men: The Last Stand soundtrack), “Dancing Mad” (Distant Worlds II cover of track from Final Fantasy VI, Nobuo Uematsu), “The First and the Last” (Xenogears, Yasunori Mitsuda). Honestly, I could go on forever here.

comfort youtuber: You know I don’t spend that much time on YouTube, but I once sat down and watched the entirety of Cooking with Dog, a cooking channel where a Japanese woman referred to only as “chef”, under the “guidance” of her dog, Francis, prepares traditional Japanese (washoku) and Westernized Japanese (yoshoku) dishes. This was my first exposure to Japanese cooking (outside of visiting an American sushi restaurant) and I was fascinated by the careful preparation of ingredients, often involving many small, deliberate steps taken to ensure each ingredient is exemplified in its best self as a part of each dish. Like watching any kind of careful and practiced craft in action, it was mesmerizing and really quite soothing.

comfort video game: Soooo many. Xenogears, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy VI, Final Fantasy VII, The Legend of Zelda: a Link to the Past, Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Chrono Trigger.

comfort film: Moulin Rouge, Legend, The Lord of the Rings (all three), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Disney), Arsenic and Old Lace, Bringing Up Baby, Shall We Dance, Sunset Boulevard, Withnail & I.

comfort show: Star Trek: TNG, The X-Files, X-men: The Animated Series (look, how else am I going to get a Phoenix/Dark Phoenix Saga adaptation that isn’t a horrible dissapointment?), The Untamed (newest addition to this list).

comfort stim: I don’t know if I truly stim or not. I used to do (and still occasionally do) a thing where I had to twitch my toes in a certain rhythm.

comfort activity: Sitting on my porch or in my garden, walking through nature, driving through hidden backwoods and down old winding country roads, holding my cat (or any cat, anywhere, at any time).

Is comfort book not a thing? I am going to add it: Lord of the Rings, House of Leaves, The Prydain Chronicles, Cosmos, The Singularity Is Near (Kurzweil), Doctor Who: The Infinity Doctors, Arcadia (yes, it’s a play but it’s a play that reads as good as it performs)

tagging (with no pressure—I can’t remember who all did this the last time it went around): @thearrogantemu , @silver-grasp , @odense , @warrioreowynofrohan , @if-he-catches-me-ill

#tumblr games #tag game #comfort stuff

[silentaffirmation]

New Silmarillion one-shot: The First Good Death

Words: 1,840

Characters: Yavanna and Nienna

Warnings: none

Summary: This is a bittersweet moment between Yavanna and Nienna set in Middle-earth before the coming of elves or men. The Valar have not yet gone to war so Melkor is still in Utumno directing all sorts of mischief. Yavanna has not yet perceived the mortality of her creations. Nienna brings her the heartbreaking news, but not all deaths are evil.

You can read it here.

#i have no idea where this weird little headcanon came from #but Nienna is my favorite and she needs more to do #fanfiction #silmarillion #Nienna #yavanna

[lemurious]

Tolkien Secret Santa 2021: In the Beginning

My @officialtolkiensecretsanta​ gift to... ???... to be revealed on December 24th! 

Read on AO3 here. 

Chapter 1: Notetaking Is Serious Business

Meeting #1 of the Valinorean Governance Committee for the Care and Stewardship of Arda and Aman.

Chair: Manwë of the Valar, Lord of Winds.

Deputy: Varda of the Valar, Star-kindler.

Notetaker: Mairon of the Maiar, Admirable in Penmanship and Other Important Qualities, to be Detailed Later. I’ll transcribe a clean version of the notes for them, and I doubt anyone will read them anyway. At least now I can have some fun while appearing to scribble most assiduously.

Also, has anyone noticed Manwë’s blatant favoritism? Making his own wife his deputy. I can practically hear Thuri hissing in rage from where she is stuck in the back of the room with the rest of the Maiar. Myself, I get to sit in the front row, in plain view of the Valar.

I’m glad I’m wearing all my jewelry, Olórin’s advice be damned. That prude. “You can’t pile on a golden necklace and arm rings, Mairon. The metal plates in the skirt are too much, Mairon. Fur collars are gauche, Mairon, at least do remove the ears and tail to make it a bit more stylish.”

Sorry, but this wolf pelt makes me look fierce. Especially after lining my eyelids with some coal from the brazier, and an hour with brushes, gels and sprays to achieve just the right kind of “I woke up like this” hairdo. And guess what, now I am the one who gets to introduce this uptight bunch of the Valar to the latest fashions. Seriously, Manwë, the feathers are so last year.

Speaking of which, I really need to tell Eönwë to stop imitating his boss. I know the poor dear is infatuated beyond all common sense, but Manwë has eyes only for his own wife. I guess I could take Eönwë out for drinks, commiserate on our permanent bachelorhood, gossip about the love lives of the less prudish Valar to take his mind off his predicament… (I am all but sure that Yavanna secretly lives in a threesome! Aulë and Nienna. Some Valar have all the luck). Anyway, that’s not going to be much of a chore, these new Dwarves of Aulë’s are excellent brewers.

Right! Back to notes.

Item 1. Of Light and Darkness. And, if I may add, of multiple stress injuries from hammering mithril into those tiny leaves and stems that form the lampposts.

Not that anyone will ever see them up close, the blasted Lamps would blind anyone except perhaps the hardiest Vala long before then. But, of course, Varda needs perfection, and whose job is it to make her wishes come true? Got it in one! That would be us, also known as dutiful forge-Maiar, generally forgotten by everyone else but Aulë, who, granted, at least works just as hard as we do.

Apparently, Varda has noticed that the Eastern Lamp is not quite a perfect mirror image of the Western Lamp, and desires the entire Eastern lamppost to be remade. Suggestion accepted by Aulë, though at least he has the sense to not look exactly delighted by it. As if Varda could even pretend to care that she has just put the entire forge to slog through another year without any properly creative work.

Hey, this is interesting! Melkor is asking, could we lift the Lamps high enough to shed light on Arda as well?

Everyone looks nonplussed, as if, why would they even care about Arda?

In response, Melkor is mentioning plants and animals, and apparently, something or someone called The Firstborn. Manwë is shushing him for speaking out of order, since The Firstborn seem to be listed farther along in the agenda.

Melkor’s voice is really most commanding, though his attire distinctly lacks jewelry. Though I agree that basic black is a good fallback in any situation.

A rolled-up piece of paper just hit my head.

You look like you’ve been whacked on the head with a hammer. May want to stare at Melkor with a bit more subtlety.

Thuri, of course. Who else. Love and desire don’t do anything for her, so she thinks she can torment her poor forgemate now. Also, I only briefly described his outfit. Surely that’s subtle enough. That voice though, makes one’s insides turn to liquid.

Oh no.

An objection from Yavanna officially recorded and a wolf pelt removed from the Notetaker’s shoulders, to be given a suitable burial. All Greater and Lesser Ainur reminded to avoid killing Yavanna’s creations. Official objections by Oromë and Tulkas recorded. Following, two hours of discussion of the difference between a hunt and a murder.

At least quarrelling has made them forget about me. Also, I swear that Melkor swallowed hard when he saw me removing the pelt, which left my pecs bare to the world. All that hammering of fancy lampshades was not for nothing! But, they seem to have reached a truce. Back to notes.

Chapter 2: Beings of Variable Intelligence

Item 2. Of Intelligent Beings.

Sometimes I hate my job. I know, I’ve only had this particular job since this morning, but I do hate it already. It just hurts. For whatever reason Manwë decided to go full Ilúvatar Mode on this item. Perfection of all aspects of body and mind (I am counting seconds until Thuri goes ballistic), all beings created and blessed by Eru Himself and none other…

I see Yavanna and Aulë are looking uneasily at each other after that proclamation, and Melkor is positively tossing lightning bolts out of his ears. They do look rather intriguing and give him a certain air of danger, zipping around his head like a crown.

Recording an interruption by Thuringwethil, a Maia of Manwë’s.

Truth be told, I hate to call her one of Manwë’s. He only remembers her when he feels like doling out some more punishments. Thuri spends all her time in the forges with us, and fortunately Aulë doesn’t give a broken nail about whom she officially responds to. Also, she, as a flightless, nearly voiceless Maia, has a few words to say every time she hears of the Divine Perfection. Usually, the kind of words that are not repeated in polite company.

Recording Thuringwethil’s removal from the premises.

At least Olórin followed Thuri when she was thrown out of the door. There may be something decent about him after all. I would have come, of course, but I am rather stuck taking these notes. I’ll have to talk to Thuri, she should just go and switch her allegiance to us, if that’s even doable. She’s wasted at Manwë’s.

Also, the whole sorry picture of them dragging her out was accompanied by most distracting zapping noises from Melkor’s lightning crown. Which really brought out the ice blue shade of his eyes.

Oh look, another message, inside a lovely origami frog this time. Manwë has no right to control our creativity. We need to stand up to injustice. I don’t even need a signature to tell that it’s Curumo’s, it only differs from his typical missives by not signing off with a call for general strike.

I don’t exactly disagree with the standing up part, either. I think we could count on at least a few Valar to support us, though this will be a matter of strategy and not of ideology. I hope Curumo can see it, and will let me take care of what I do best. Organizing.

Recording Manwë’s announcement of a new Kindred soon to be born, on the shore of Cuiviénen in the East of Arda. The first ones to awake with a mind of their own.

Aulë and Yavanna are looking at each other most suspiciously. Also, what do they mean first? We woke up a long time ago, the Dwarves were somewhat delayed, but they have a veritable underground network of mines and beer-halls by now, and I’d hazard to say, Oromë has his opinion about whether Nahar “has a mind of his own” too, despite being a (very bad tempered) horse.

Somehow, neither Aulë or Oromë seem particularly keen on voicing their concerns. Instead, here goes Melkor again, and I swear that Manwë is trying his hardest to avoid rolling his eyes. Brothers, I suppose.

He is calling for all of us to go down to greet those Firstborn and guide them, and again to raise the Lamps to shed some light on Arda, so that they would not have to wake up in the darkness. Very reasonable suggestions!

Predictably, Varda disagrees, saying that her starlight is quite sufficient, thank you, and the Firstborn (who will technically be called Elves) will worship her stars to the end of their days. Does she actually care about making those days a little more, well, livable?

Ooh, Melkor just asked exactly that. Seriously, he’s the only Vala with some sense. And, apparently, a strong enough opinion on not leaving the newly intelligent beings to fend for themselves, that he now is directly threatening to go right over to Cuiviénen, whether he is allowed to or not.

Recording Lord Melkor being unfairly removed from the premises.

Another paper frog has just hopped on my desk. It feels a little weird to unfold them, but that’s Curumo for you. He couldn’t care less about living (OK, I admit, paper) creatures. We should go find these Firstborn. They’ll call us kings! the message in the frog says.

I literally turn around and hiss at Curumo for about half a second. Not that I haven’t dreamed about being a king of my own realm, but pretending to be superior just because the other folks are, for all intents and purposes, a bunch of newborns, is no basis for kingship. I may have to talk to him about that more. Still, the suggestion is intriguing. I wonder if Melkor will be going there too…

Which as of right now is irrelevant. It is all completely irrelevant, because, oh, Void and Darkness, this is bad. Very, very bad.

Recording: Lord Manwë speaks with the Voice of Eru Ilúvatar to remind everyone that He alone has the power to create new intelligent kindreds on Arda or Aman, and demand that Aulë destroy his feeble mockeries of creation, the so-called Dwarves.

Destroy. I feel I cannot even make myself write this, but I am required to take notes. My chest is burning, I can’t see straight, it’s like I got a hot blast in the forge.

The feeble mockeries of creation. I just had a beer over at Durin and Sons yesterday, fine lads, settling very well under the local mountain.

Aulë doesn’t look much better than I feel, Nienna is sobbing already (though she generally is at this time of day), and Yavanna has just attempted to jump up to say something, but Aulë dragged her down and told her to keep quiet. Nobody has ever seen him go against her wishes, so this must be something major.

I suppose, Curumo would know. A new paper frog hops up as if right on cue.

Yavanna has her own Intelligent Beings, or whatever they’re called. They call themselves Ents. At least as smart as the Dwarves, and only drink water. Think we could blackmail Yavanna in return for some poison recipes?

I somehow manage to scribble the response straight onto the frog. No.

Because that would make us just like them.

That is all I can manage. Would Curumo, truly, tell Manwë about Yavanna’s Ents if he did not get his poisons? I feel I have never really known him. I wish he still called for strikes and uprisings. I could join one. Because Aulë, the same terrifyingly brilliant and unceasingly kind Aulë, my boss, is now offering to crush all his Dwarves if they do not please Ilúvatar, while tears are running down into his beard.

I find that I cannot look him in the face... I turn my eyes away, and focus on the notetaking.  

Recording: the Dwarves are spared, though they will only be reawakened on Arda, and only after the Firstborn.

(I bet the Firstborn would be perfectly delighted not to be Firstborn, if that meant someone else was around who could take care of them during those early days, show them around a bit. Let them get used to the Arda life. But Manwë, for whatever reason, likes the name and wants to make the story fit.)

I don’t have heart for any more jokes, however feeble they might be. This is the verdict. Back to sleep for all our Dwarven pals. Almost, back to ground.

Recording: Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna have left the premises. On their own accord.

I should come over, offer some comfort to the Dwarves. Perhaps even to Aulë, I know he’d expect me to. But I just… can’t. I know Aulë is suffering, I know he regrets everything he’s done, and I just can’t do it.  Because he has done nothing wrong, and now, thanks to Manwë and Ilúvatar, he is so sure he has that it is tearing him apart.

Recording. End of Meeting, with the next meeting scheduled in four weeks precisely.

Chapter 3: Worlds To Be Explored

I walk past Curumo, past Olórin and Thuri huddled right outside the door, discussing some philosophical idea, and go to the forge before anyone else gets there. Methodically, without any trace of sentiment (as if, my mind insists, but I ignore it) I collect all my tools, put them in a bag, lug it all the way to my chambers. At that point, Valinor feels like it’s squeezing my chest, and I can hardly breathe. I know I am supposed to be magnanimous and understanding, and a true follower of Ilúvatar. But I can’t. Because Aulë would rather let the Dwarves die than challenge some arbitrary rule.

After a couple of days of languishing at home I go out for a walk, which turns into a trot, until I leave Tirion and go straight into the surrounding forest, not bothering with trails. This is Oromë’s realm, and judging from his face at the end of that last meeting of the Valar, he was not going to be paying attention to anything but his hunt for the next few days.

If I won’t be returning to the forge – but - I won’t be. I have made my choice – then I need to decide whether I want to remain in Valinor at all. Should I go ahead and steal a lamp to bring those poor Firstborn, whoever they might be, some light? But I hardly have strength for that… I hardly have strength for anything, even thinking, except the bitterness in my chest.

In the future I will probably describe my emotions as rage, righteous anger and a touch of rebellion. What I feel instead is betrayed. I thought I found a misfit family in the forge, both the other Maiar and the... the Dwarves. I tried to approach the Maiar, but Thuri shrieked that she was going back to Manwë’s (I will have to find her, soon, she can refuse to acknowledge how they treat her over there, but I know how much it hurts her), Olórin sashayed straight off to Nienna’s (to mourn over the Dwarves, I suppose?) and Curumo…

Well, Curumo decided to go look at Aulë’s notes while Aulë was away, putting his Dwarves to sleep under the rocks of Arda. That forgemate of mine is only too curious about forging another breathing, thinking being like a fancy trinket.

And when he asked me if I was interested too, I said yes. What was there to lose? I don’t know what either of us will do with what we have learned, but I, for one, am not going to forget the technique. Nor the punishment that it would bring.

Aren’t forests supposed to look peaceful? This one is all obnoxious crows and fir trees. And apparently, a random Ainu out for a stroll. I hope he won’t notice me, but my luck hasn’t exactly been the greatest recently, so, of course, he walks straight towards where I am trying to blend into a tree trunk.

“Would you like some company, or would you prefer not to be disturbed?” says the newcomer, and I, I would recognize that voice anywhere. The last time I heard it I was taking notes in the Valarin council until the voice’s owner was kicked out for disturbing the peace.

“Lord Melkor,” I say with respect, doing everything I can to smother an entirely inappropriate grin. I am supposed to be mourning my sad fate and disillusionment with Valinor in general and Aulë in particular! “You are welcome to join me. Plenty of space among the roots.”

“Are you hiding?” he asks me next, and all my joy evaporates.

“Yes,” I say, and, I don’t know where I get the courage, but I ask him next: “Are you?”

I don’t think Melkor is easily surprised, but he looks at me like he’s never thought of paying attention before.

“To an extent,” he agrees. “I don’t think I will stay around for much longer…”

“Where will you go?”

“Arda. Where else?”

“But... It’s all dark there?”

“And? There are no windows in your forge either, to let in Lamplight. Is it exactly dark there?”

“We have fire!”

“And Arda doesn’t,” he says confusingly.

“No?” I’m trying to figure out what he meant.

Oh. Oh right. I practically jump to show him that I understood the hint. “Not unless we bring it.”

“That’s a start,” Melkor grins, and I am a fool and a half, but I have to admit to myself, I am gone. I’ll go on whatever madcap adventure he’ll take me.

“One could… learn so much there,” he continues, and isn’t it entirely unfair how he already knows what I desire the most? Knowledge. Learning.

“And you can have a kingdom.” It is just as obvious to me what he truly wants.

“With what subjects?” Melkor asks morosely.

“I am sure we can manage…” I say, trying not to tell him outright what I have learned from Aulë’s notes.

“We,” doesn’t sound half bad, does it?” the Vala finishes and stretches out his hand to me. Judging from his shaky grip, I am not the only one turned to jelly by the fact that we are Having a Conversation.

“Not at all,” I agree. “I found a few notes on the creation of Dwarves. I think, as long as we could keep it secret…”

Melkor’s eyes are positively aflame now, brighter than the Lamps.

“We could meet the Firstborn once they come out, too. Perhaps we don’t need to make subjects of our own. The ones already there will suffice.”

“As long as we won’t demand perfection.”

I think of Thuri, and of all the misshapen creations that Yavanna had cast out of her gardens over time, all of her experiments, and I know that unless Melkor agrees with me I will not be going with him. Not even if he offered me all the jewels on Arda, and himself besides.

“Never.”

Good, we are of the same opinion here. “So, when do we start, and how do we get there?” I never believed in long conversations politely skirting the actual topic.

In response, Melkor takes my hand and launches into the air, straight through the treetops and up into the sky, until the air gets freezing cold and we are above the Lamplight.

For the first time since the Music began I see stars, spilling out in a path across the sky, arrayed in constellation beyond constellation, far deeper than my sight can reach, stars in the faintest shades of blue, white and red, just a hint of color. Stars singing to me in their glory and majesty and wonder, calling my heart to them.

Melkor’s arms are around me now, and I am not afraid to fall.

“There are worlds uncounted,” he whispers, and my heart skips a beat.

“Worlds to be explored,” I answer.

It sounds like flirting, but it is only the truth. For both of us. I know I will never be able to rest and be content under the lampshades while there are stars above. And judging from how he flies me over the forest and far away from the city, towards the ice-capped mountains looming in the distance, neither will he.

#tss2021 #tolkien secret santa #lemur writes #my fic #melkor #mairon #thuringwethil #valar #crack and angst #humor #angbang #valinor

[herenortherenearnorfar]

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

#the silmarillion #gothmog #orcs #silmarillion fanfiction #angband #fanfic #Sauron gets some mentions

[szyszkasosnowa]

blorbo meme + either tolkien's legendarium or discworld?

Aaa thank you! I'll do legendarium, not only because that's my blorbthology [blorbo mythology] but also it's been a while since I read discworld ^^'

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most) - Maedhros, obviously.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression) - Nellas <3 <3 <3 I feel like I need to protect her, but also she's me. Who would think that in this sad book of horrors you could find such a sweet, socially anxious, awkward elf girl.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave) - Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. She needs more love! She's so nasty, if she got her sticky hands on the One Ring, the Middle-Earth would have a Dark Queen more petty and annoying than Sauron could ever hope to be. [side note: scrimblo bimblo could pass as a hobbit name]

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week) - Lalwende. We got no much more than her family ties and her name ethymology and I'm like... amazing, showstopping, here goes my very special girl.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave) - Celegorm and Curufin! And Feanor, lol, look at my poor little meow meow self igniting from all his hate nad rage 🥺🥺🥺

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason) - all the Valar, except for Yavanna and Nienna. And that little bitch Orodreth.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell) - Eol, Thingol, Turgon maybe... I mean most of characters went through super hell during their lifes, so let's not be too harsh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#silmarillion #oc

[mythwine]

Dragon Con 2019 Recap, Part 1

DragonCon was soooo much fun this year!  I am really glad I had the chance to go, and despite some hiccups it was a wonderful time.

So, hiccups out of the way first.  Sabrina, Kelly and I rode to DragonCon with Trista (who luckily has an SUV).  I didn’t have to do any driving and the trip went fine … until we got to Atlanta and got stuck behind a stalled vehicle at a light (their transmission died and they needed to be towed).  While we were attempting to merge into the other lane and allowing the car in front of us to switch lanes, some IDIOT ignored the fact that an SUV was already in her lane and tried to go around, sideswiping Trista’s car.  It damaged the front bumper. And then she decided to do a hit-and-run and not even stop. But she sure did pause long enough for us to get her plates before driving off, so we gave that and a description of the vehicle/driver to the police.  So needless to say that was upsetting and not a great way to start the convention.  At least we got rooms, though.  Poor @Sashaforthewin checked into the Marriott at 9 AM and didn’t get her room until 7 PM, leading to a bunch of stranded people in our hotel room all day.  Similarly upsetting car issues on the way back, when Sabrina’s car had a dead battery, delaying her arrival back home by a day.  Speaking of transportation issues, @elrohare was stranded in Atlanta for a few extra days as planes don’t like flying into hurricanes and flights were cancelled/delayed.  Everything worked out (so far as I know), but that was some extra stress.   Con crunch caught me hard this year.  I maybe kinda sorta over-ambitiously decided on 4 new costumes for DragonCon.  But the catch was that *every single one of them* was part of a group, so there was no way to gracefully back out or decide not to do them last minute.  Now, had I been a foresighted individual, I might have started making these costumes back in, say, June, to ensure they were all ready to go in time.  But…to the surprise of no one who knows me, delay after delay after delay meant that I sure did get a late start.   So while I gathered the supplies and plans and started some of the accessories in advance, I basically had to make three costumes from scratch in about 12 days (one costume was made of purchased clothing, so doesn’t count, though I did still have to dye a wig and a skirt for it). For the most part, these costumes came out well enough, though the third one was a serious rush job and nothing to be proud of.  Also, embarrassingly, I was sewing it in the minutes leading up to our departure and had to hem it in the room at con.  

That distraction meant that I wasn’t really all that careful with my packing.  Here’s the full list of items I flat-out forgot to bring – stuff that was in my house, and I intended to bring, but that didn’t make it into my bags. A wig cap.  Wig brush.  Hair spray. A sewing needle with silver thread. Plastic drinking goblet.  Canister of tea.  A pair of grey stockings.  BOTH of Nienna’s veils.  Nienna’s belt.  Some items fortuitously made it into my bag without my intentionally packing them, such as a spoon and my elf ears.  Luckily, between my roommates and CVS, I was able to make do without these forgotten items, but man.  That’s disorganized even for me.  

But who cares about all of that, because Dragon Con was amazing!  One upshot of the room situation was that Trista and Murph got an adjoining room to ours, and Sasha, Kathleen, Cindy, and Allison were only three doors down.  Very convenient!  

Wednesday night, we went to dinner at Pacific Rim after a de-stressing visit to the hotel pool. Lovely company, and an opportunity to catch up with friends!  I don’t even remember what I ate (something with scallops), but it was delicious. Afterwards, we went to Trader Vic’s in the Hilton for MaiTais from their bar, meeting up with more friends. DragonCon is this big reunion, but especially on Wednesday night!  There were T-Rexes having a dance party in the lobby, as you do.  I think what’s fun for me is that on Wednesday, the conversations are still about real-world stuff, catching up with what has been happening in people’s lives, and then as the weekend progresses, it’s more silly stuff. The same person who is willing to discuss church policy with me in a bar on Wednesday is just as happy to kazoo Christmas carols with me on Sunday.  I enjoy that transition into just hanging out and enjoying everyone’s company, but I like the real conversations too.  

One of my favorite parts of con is no alarm clocks.  I can sleep as long as needed and get up whenever.  And after the overnight drive, I sure did need that slow start on Thursday. The main goals for the day were to obtain a badge, practice singing/panel (which required obtaining a Stacey) and attending Haldir’s ‘Sweet 1600’ birthday party.  So this was a low-stress day for me.  The badge process was a bit longer than usual, for some reason, so there was a steady line with a wait of about 45 minutes all day (for those who didn’t get the code thingy on their phone).  Trista and I waited in line together, and Sabrina was kind enough to keep us company, even though she got her badge in like three minutes (she had the code).  I met up with Stacey and Daisy in the food court (they were staying in the Westin), then back to the Marriott Dome for singing.  Afterwards, we ran through our panel and timed it at 60 minutes, so we were in good shape for Friday.  Then, I quickly changed into the one non-new costume I was wearing this weekend (Elwing) and went to the room party.  Fun, as always!  I was glad to have the chance to congratulate Stacey on her marriage.  YouTube on the TV allows for anyone with the remote to set the music, so I sure did switch it to Berlioz’s Symphanie Fantastique for like 30 seconds before that got strangely vetoed.   It was somehow not even my fault that we ended up shouting Lords of the Rhymes later, but it was totally my fault that Rolling Down the Hole was played.  After the party, we went down to the Marriott lobby to take in the atmosphere of DragonCon, which included chatting with some firefighters from Miami who kept referring to @hellofeanor as ‘cheeseball girl.’ Mostly because she was holding an open canister of cheeseballs, which would remain open until Monday night.  

The saga continues here:  https://mythwine.tumblr.com/post/187588236720/dragon-con-recap-part-2-friday

#hiltonwars2019 #dragoncon2019

[fireeaglespirit]

@beyond-far-horizons

I do. I’ve always shied away from the LOTR/Sil community on tumblr or anywhere cos I want to keep my attachment to them all to myself given how formative they were for me and still are. Never the less I do like this interpretation of Melkor’s actions over Tolkien’s “he is Satan and darn right bad!” cos I have always been a fangirl of Melkor esp because most of the Valar are such stuck up good too shoes (apart from Ulmo - love you Ulmo!) Basically I adore Melkor (even though I don’t justify what he did) and Ulmo, like Nienna, Aule, Yavanna and Varda but Manwe….Manwe…just too good…and ‘the Windlord’ just isn’t a good title in some senses of the word hehe. It’s just the selfish way they acted towards the elves and especially humanity - no special treatment for them, no guidance (apart from Ulmo - what a dude) and then they wake up and get dragged into the war between Melkor and the elves - even though they didn’t start it and will not get reborn if killed. Okay okay Melkor was terrible and did terrible things but I’ve never liked that dualistic way of thinking as much as i admire the Professor. 

I’m replying here as to avoid any problems with the og of the post or whatever, but yeah... this is as far as I go concerning fandom right now but it was very worthy reading the book, I did enjoy it when I got a hold on how to read it properly. 

I must be honest and say, some parts were a chore to get through but others were so delightful it paid off in the end, much like other books I’ve enjoyed including ASOIAF which had painfully lackluster parts, I do dig for the gems and its always worthy.

I did write a huge post concerning the first parts of it and my thoughts, but I don’t know if I’ll post it as its a bit too harsh (extremely delicate subject for some, I know but for me nothing is sacred on this regard) on some elements which after some research made more sense to me. Also, taking in consideration the time period it was written and some info about the author made it much better for me to get into it, etc... I’m also highly tolerant of different world views (for real) so even thought I don’t agree with some of his concepts and I oppose some of them, I can sort of ‘ignore them’ in order to enjoy my cherry picked favorite aspects of the creation and even taking them into consideration is interesting for the ‘different point of view’ I mentioned.

As you wisely notice I don’t have much love for the whole bible-like aspects which by any means pertain just to the structure of the early parts of the book, but to the ongoing theme of the battle of good x evil, including most of the morale of the book itself which feels very ‘christian’ and monotheistic despite the presence of the Valar as god-like figures, which superficially might look polytheistic, Eru’s influence is undeniable even when he’s not actively present in the narrative: All good stems from Eru, or being close to him and following his way and almost every bad thing that happens is due to the meddling of a single guy whose own very existence was allowed by Eru and who opposes him... In the end, all evil comes from not following god’s will or not believing him. Don’t need to say I’m not a huge fan of the concept *coughs*

Anyway, I also recently read through the parts concerning Numenor and it made me angry also, especially concerning the way humans were left with no guidance at all, it no wonder they feel prey to manipulation, they were starved for something they could never achieved and they could never be enlightened on the reason for that. 

I don’t know and never understood why ‘faith’ or believing without at sort of clue or proof is held in such a high stem by most people, so its hard for me to swallow the way the humans were just told to never fucking go to west and to not desire immortality which was just natural for elves and spirits and they were not given a proper explanation or reason why... they just had to believe it. I know the Valar aren't omniscient too so they don’t know Eru’s reason either, but they could've been more helpful concerning the subject of the undying lands, I know at some point they are more open about it but perhaps it was way too late. LOL. What would it cost for a higher being to just go there and tell them the story and  functioning of the world, etc... I don’t know if this sounds stupid or even makes sense but I felt sorry for the guys in Numenor who died in the collective murder by Eru (this stank of bible but wasn't nearly as bad since well just a little part of the world was swallowed up :l and god basically killed everyone save a guy and his little family so props to Eru). I feel weird.

The problem to me is not the monotheistic setting itself, but the fact its endorsed and not ever criticized, etc.. I could enjoy any book with any world view as long as it challenges itself and Tolkien just goes straight away and never look back in this. I guess I just have a more ‘cynical’ or ‘doubtful’ point of view regarding deities in general, esp. monotheistic ones so I’d rather have some more shades of gray concerning those who oppose the all powerful god, just like you did regarding the demons on the DMC fic verse where you can see there are multiple forces at play and its not so simple, but I digress its just the way things are and that’s what the book is and its a relatively old book with different mindset and cultural references than we commonly have today.

To me, taking it away and just overlooking certain implications I can sort of get behind it, lol.

I’m also not a huge fan of the Valar, personally, they look cool as heck but most of them are indifferent AF and don’t act much. Worse than that, they don’t seem to hold much concern towards humanity... During the war of the wrath I just kept thinking “why haven’t you done this before??” and lol

I guess its a bit like my own Polaris whom after meddling with humanity for long just took a back seat, sort of understandable when things went awry before and you just don’t know if your meddling is causing good or bad anymore so you just let it be for a while, and for those beings a ‘while’ might mean centuries easy. The Valar, just like my dragons hold a lot of power, compared to ‘gods’ but neither hold omniscience so its understandable that they make mistakes, I just don’t necessarily agree with the position of utter indifference they took after some events... I mean to work with this theme concerning my dragons and how they deal with this so it was interesting nonetheless seeing the story evolve and what it leads to.

Anyway, the Silm. has a very interesting arc concerning its mythology since the higher power consecutively ‘take a back seat’ in order to let the world develop on its own, first of all is Eru himself and them slowly the ranks of spirits whom where once the focus of attention leave the picture one after the other until the story is taken over mostly by elves and afterwards even the elves leave the scene for humans to take over. This is very interesting and works to explain why the ‘powers that be’ are not as vivid as they were, etc... I really enjoyed reading the over arching theme and how it played out, it will definitely help me on my writing endeavors.

I totally agree on Ulmo like FFS he was the only guys still around when shit went down and he was always there trying to help the ‘good guys’, also Aule has some interesting facets early on and well... the Valar look incredible, especially Varda & birdy (fart) lord Manwe, but they don’t hold much more to me than cool looks, which is sad as they had potential. Also, I live for goth queen Nienna but she does nothing through the story...

Well, once more we’re left in the world of ‘what could've been’. I’m quite used to it and not complaining, just stating in my personal opinion the text could be easily turned into something much more interesting to me with minor tweaks. 

#beyond-far-horizons #silmarillion #random

[space0utlaw]

Hot take on Gandalf and mercy.

so im watching the fellowship of the ring right (what else is new, I have no hobbies) and this scene has me thinking. Back the day, when Gandalf was called Olorin in the Undying Lands, he served under the Vala Nienna (Nienna is my favorite sad lesbian goddess, id die for her). Nienna weeps forever, grieving the marring of Arda by Melkor, and she turns that grief into wisdom.

now i think that the Valar the Istari served have more influence over how their minds work than we give them credit for. Sarumon served under the Vala Aulë, the smith with a mind made of metal and a big enough ego to create his own race (the dwarves) and enough cruelty to be ready to destroy them once Iluvatar discovered what he had done (very Abraham sacrificing his son to prove his faith/ Saturn eating his children, but thats a whole thing. i need some more discourse on Aulë ).

you know which other Maiar also served under Aulë? u guessed it, Sauron the Bitch. Aulë had a major influence on Saruman as a character and I think when Gandalf says, “His treachery runs deeper than you know.” I think he may be alluding to this? Or maybe I’m reading too far into it. Sauron serving as a Maia of Aulë speaks to how Tolkien sees industry as corruption, but BACK TO THE MAIN POINT

Because Olorin/Gandalf served under Nienna, he learned compassion, pity and patience from her, and I think this scene illustrated that perfectly. the mercy he shows fo Gollum reflects who he is.

“Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends (some foreshadowing here omg).

#lord of the rings #the silmarillion #gandalf #frodo #gollum #nienna-the-vala #aulë #saruman #sauron #olorin #the fellowship of the ring #lotr discourse #istari #@the void

[nerd-who-writes]

Stars of Love

Chapter 3- Part 1

Note: Ilúvatar is the god of the gods in Middle Earth. Nienna and Estë are less powerful godesses. Ilúvatar created them both.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Tauriel showed you back to your room before walking through twisting corridors toward the throne room. Never before had she gone directly to her king for answers, she didn't know if he would even consider her question. 

The way you had spoken in the trees moved her. Tauriel hadn't realized she'd been searching for freedom until you said it. Freedom from her pain, her loss, her own mind. She constantly asked herself what might have happened if she'd  moved faster, been stronger, if she'd been able to save Fili. She trained, every day harder than the last to make sure it could never happen again. Training took her mind off everything, letting her instincts take over. But every night, she had to return to her empty bed and stare at the ceiling until she could fall asleep. 

The floors shone underfoot. If elves didn't walk so quietly, they would be heard a mile away in those halls, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. Tauriel counted her steps and focused on her breathing. She desperately needed to know the question in her soul. She was afraid Thranduil would turn her away, say she was an ignorant child. He saw through her, she knew it. 

Tauriel waited a moment outside. If she didn't ask now, she never would. She entered quietly and stood before the throne. "My King." Her voice bounced off the floors, ceiling, and walls, though it was little more than a whisper. 

"Tauriel." Thranduil looked down at her. His crown stood tall on his head, reminding Tauriel of poisoned spikes. Despite his magesty, he looked tired. Worn; defeated, even. "Why are you here? It is late."

Thranduil kept odd hours, sometimes falling asleep in the throne room. He spent little time in his chambers, instead pacing outdoors. In truth, he feared facing an empty room, a room where once his wife slept with him. A room where his son played as a todler. A room he had all to himself, for they were gone. 

"I wish to ask you a question." Tauriel's hands shook, so she hid them behind her back. 

"Ask, then." He stared at her, right through her to the bone. He peeled back every layer, every insecurity. It could not be said that he had ever been kind to her, belittling her often. He had given up on that endeavor, but she still remembered the few times he had shown her praise, and how she thirsted for it like water.

Tauriel took a deep breath. "How did you know you loved your queen?"

The air in the room disappeared, whistling out of the hall, taking her breath with it. Sound seemed non existant; Tauriel could have heard a breadcrumb drop. Thranduil stood slowly, cape sliding from his lap onto the floor. He descended the steps from his throne to Tauriel, leaning down so their faces were inches apart. 

"Why do you ask me this?" He hissed. Anger lit his eyes like fire, just as Tauriel knew it would. 

Tauriel could not answer him, instead rolling her shoulders back to stand tall. 

Thranduil stepped back, and something in him changed. "You know what love is, Tauriel. I do not need to tell you."

"Please!" Tauriel's voice cracked. 

Thranduil only stared back at her. He then sighed, his posture drooping, and ran his hands over his face. He feared for Tauriel. He did not want her to suffer another loss. It pained him to see her this way, in love with another mortal.  He could not deny the human made her happy. He watched the way she lit up when the girl was around, how she changed from her regular sorrow. 

"She spoke to me tonight," Tauriel pressed, "in a way I have never known. It was poetry and truth combined! She spoke openly with nothing to hide. I want that; I want that openness with someone."Tauriel's face contorted as she battled feelings she didn't understand. 

Again, Thranduil sighed. "When she walked passed, she was the only thing I could see. She stole my breath, turned my tongue to lead, put rustling leaves where my stomach should have been. She shone like stars..." he trailed off, memory paining him. "Does she do it to you? Will it be worth it when she dies?"

Tears slipped passed Tauriel's long eyelashes, over her cheeks, dropping 

from her chin to the pristine floor. "Was it worth it for you?"

Thranduil stared at her, pity in his eyes, but understanding there also. "Every moment."

~

You woke up with no idea of the time. You walked through the palace, trying to find someone to direct you to breakfast. Your feet led you to the path outside. You found yourself in the morning light, cutting through the trees and banishing the fog. The world was less dreary in the morning, and sleep clouded your brain. The events of the last day felt like a dream. A good dream, with the most beautiful person you had ever seen. You wondered what Tauriel looked like in pale morning light. 

Tauriel was wondering the same thing about you- how sun rays might fall across your face- as she nearly walked into you coming around a corner. Tauriel got the answer to her musings- you looked angelic. The thought made Tauriel blush. 

"How are you?" She managed to ask. The sun fell on your face like water droplets, rays streaming over your body. Tauriel felt as though she were looking through a lense to a different world, a world of light. 

"Mmmnn," you answered, rubbing your eyes. "Sleepy. How 'bout you?"

"I'm alright. Probably more sober than you." Tauriel laughed, and so did you. Tauriel's brain again wandered to the thought of you as an angel, your bedhead as your halo. She wanted nothing more than to run her hands through your hair. 

Tauriel was beautiful. Her hair shone like fire in the morning and her skin glowed. You wished you could capture the image forever. You tried dedicating every detail to memory. "I- I supose you have to work today, don't you?" You stammered, rubbing your neck with one hand. 

"Yes, I do." It frustrated Tauriel that she couldn't spend the day with you; watch you and listen to your fearless honesty. 

"I'll be back for dinner, and this time I won't make you dance. Perhaps Meludir will be able to show you around, he works at night, and he's young enough he doesn't need sleep." The words hurt coming out of her mouth. She remembered your eyes upon first entering the halls, your wonder so real she could touch it.

"Yeah." You looked at your shoes. It would be an understatement to say you were disappointed. You would join the damn gaurd if it meant spending time with Tauriel. "You ever kill any giant spiders out there?" You tried changing the conversation. 

"Always. They are nasty creatures, but they can't beat my bow. Or my sword. And you? What did you do in Gondor?" Tauriel was glad for the change in conversation. 

"Interestingly enough, I was a teacher's assistant. I helped teach kids to read and write. I know- I don't seem like the type." You gave a nervous laugh. You loved those kids, and their teacher had once been yours when you were small. The poor woman needed help during another pregnancy, and you stuck with helping her for years. 

"You really don't."  Tauriel looked amused. You gazed at each other for a while, just to look at one another. 

"You have to go, don't you." It wasn't a question. You knew she had to leave. 

"Yes."

"Good luck." You tried to look happier than you felt. Women of Gondor gave their husbands tokens for luck that they wore to battle. You wanted to give such a thing to Tauriel, though you had nothing on you. 

"I can show you to breakfast-" You interrupted her, deciding your token would have to be something a bit different. Quickly and shamelessly, you stepped towards her. 

You kissed her. Just like that. Neither of your brains registered what was happening. You tilted your head down, puting one hand on the small of her back. It was, well, wet. But she tasted like honey and strawberries, and her lips were soft. To you, it was good. 

Tauriel had no idea what to do. She stood there, body stiff at first touch, but she was soon glad you were holding her. If you hadn't been, she might have fallen. Her face mimicked her hair in redness, and her brain screamed at her. She formed no coherent thought on what was happening, other than that you still smelled like the forest because you hadn't bathed. Probably not the best thought to have during a kiss. 

"Wha- I-" Tauriel didn't know what to say when you broke apart. She didn't think things would move that fast. 

"Sorry," you mumbled. You worried instantly that you had done the wrong thing, that the feeling wasn't returned. 

Tauriel stood stock still for a moment. She then  put both hands in your hair, forcing your head down to her level to kiss you. She curled her fingers through your locks, her chest tight and the kiss desperate. She knew it was probably sloppy, but she also knew she probably didn't care. 

You kissed for a while, unexperienced and sloppy. Still, it was the best kiss you were ever going to get, because it meant she felt the same. It was morning, and you were bathed in gold, and your brain was being woken up to the electric shock of your body pressed against another person's. You knew early morning kisses would be your favorite, because they would forever remind you of this moment. 

"Now, this is much more delicious than breakfast," you breathed. 

[gurguliare]

notes on the valar’s debate re: finwë and miriel because whatever i guess i’m a tolkien blog again suddenly

valar present: all the aratar minus oromë and varda, but plus vairë. apparent difficulty of getting all the valar in a room is very touchingly + frighteningly provisional government. i’m not surprised oromë skipped, mildly interested in varda’s absence since varda hallows the silmarils and that’s like, the most we see her interact with an elf ever, but apparently she wasn’t as concerned with fëanor’s parents. someone write me fëanor + varda fic that isn’t primarily or exclusively about how hallowing another person’s family jewels is Illegal, thank you.

Things I Am Interested In About The Debate Itself:

aulë argues that miriel’s death (or as he wants to frame it, fëanor’s birth) was direct action on eru’s part, and that it’s therefore a mistake to talk about it as connected to the marring of arda. i love aulë’s shitty partisan tunnel vision. characterization-wise my goal for him is always to invent a melkor parallel, so, uh, belief in absolute creative control, i guess? god can always tweak his machine.

ulmo shoots back that miriel’s death CAN’T be a [thing apart from the marring] because miriel’s death has had shitty, ruinous consequences of its own, namely, it made people sad, and eru “doth not of his prime motion impose grief upon them.” ulmo acknowledges that eru is the ultimate source of all crap, grief included, but basically rejects aulë’s concept of eru acting without intermediary in a way that causes deep harm. as always, ulmo + numenor depresses me, albeit i guess not many people were left alive to grieve. between ulmo’s stance here and his speech to tuor in “of the coming of tuor to gondolin,” i think we can go past “ulmo is a rogue agent” and say that ulmo is invested in an ideal eru who may not be the same as the eru who presently exists (or, atemporally, may not be the same as... every eru who exists?); ulmo in a pinch will guilt trip god, or to take sides when god contradicts itself---not, “the contradiction must also be eru’s will and it’s our limited perspective that makes it seem evil,” but “the things i know to be right in eru are the substance of eru that i accept; the rest is a wall to be broken down, not a burden we rationalize or reconcile ourselves to.” HEAL GOD HEAL GOD HEAL GOD ulmo is, of course, jewish.*

*caveat: i have no idea what i’m talking about

yavanna backs up ulmo, which is neat---yavanna compared to ulmo is less touchy-feely, less involved with humanoids in general, so it’s not an instant association for me, but yavanna ofc also makes one of the iconic appeals-on-behalf-of-creation, which reveals a possible flaw in the design and gets a special accommodation granted: ents! here her focus is more technical (aman isn’t beyond the reach of the marring generally, and who would know better than her; everything made of matter is affected by melkor), but in a way that reveals the solid grounding for her brand of protective ardor; she’s also an engineer, though one long since resigned to the messy randomness of creation and its collaborative basis.

nienna similarly goes pretty in-depth with a consideration of psychological as well as physical frailty; despite my jokes about nienna the neural network, she lays out a lot of theory here. ulmo gets shirty about, uh, weighting temporal creatures’ in-the-moment understanding of their own abilities above their real potential to endure; in passing he touches on the fact that the valar’s interference deffos made things worse (because miriel, given an ultimatum, of course doubled down on her decision). vairë says, no, miriel is just pigheaded. in my memory of the debate i had attributed some of nienna’s stuff to vairë---i actually don’t quite know what to make of vairë’s position, or rather, of what it adds, except that she takes nienna’s relatively external + patronizing take on fallible minds and argues instead for a kind of terrible accuracy of perception between elf souls that the valar can have no frame of reference for. (vairë and mandos in different ways both strike me as bizarrely prone to, idk, taking elves seriously---see also “If thraldom it be, thou canst not escape it,” which is brutal! but which accepts feanor’s skewed model in order to enter a dialogue with him, rather than talking over his head about how his perspective is delusional.)

i haven’t touched on manwë’s and mandos’s comments in the debate because both are interesting but fairly self-explanatory. “everything else you wrote here was self-explanatory” shh. AND NOW, onto my favorite parts of this stupid essay:

1) nienna gets the bright idea to just, stuff miriel back into her corpse, and takes it to mandos privately as though no one else needs to be consulted about this and as though all the prior objections to miriel’s reincarnation just Stopped Existing because LOOK, the body’s FINE, and i HAD THIS IDEA

2) after the rebellion they do exactly that. they just pop her back in.

Then the fëa of Míriel was released and came before Manwë and received his blessing; and she went then to Lorien and re-entered her body, and awoke again, as one that cometh out of a deep sleep; and she arose and her body was refreshed. But after she had stood in the twilight of Lorien a long while in thought, remembering her former life, and all the tidings that she had learned, her heart was still sad, and she had no desire to return to her own people. Therefore she went to the doors of the House of Vairë and prayed to be admitted; and this prayer was granted, although in that House none of the Living dwelt nor have others ever entered it in the body.

i love it. i love it so much. i love miriel standing and thinking, i love that having already had a kind of ecstatic ghost turnaround after talking to finwe, where she’s like, i will! i will come back to life!---coming back to life is still hard. she sobers up and her understanding changes again once she’s returned to the world; she gets so many pivots in two pages and it doesn’t feel silly or trivial, it feels amazing, because this is the woman who vairë thought would stay dead until the end of the world---i guess that’s the other big function of vairë’s bit, is it lets us take seriously the idea that miriel COULD have. she was feanor’s mother. and yet by some chance she relented, and it wasn’t like, break the old resolve, form a new one, follow that just as doggedly, it’s that she breaks the old resolve and ends up in this totally new, thoughtful, responsive mindset, In The Twilight Of Lorien, she has the freedom to find out and follow her own impulses at last, and if the impulse runs out she abandons it

and she gets what she wants!! although in that house none of the living dwelt nor have others ever entered it in body!

also, from when she’s still talking stuff over with finwë:

And when she learned of Finwë all that had befallen since her departure (for she had given no heed to, nor asked tidings, until then) she was greatly moved; and she said to Finwë in thought: ‘I erred in leaving thee and our son, or at least in not soon returning after brief repose; for had I done so he might have grown wiser. But the children of Indis shall redress his errors and therefore I am glad that they should have being, and Indis hath my love. How should I bear grudge against one who received what I rejected and cherished what I abandoned?’

so, 1) i suspect that ghosts’ mental processing is not exactly like living people’s, because regardless of how seriously depressed míriel was when she died, ‘had given no heed to, nor asked tidings’ is real hardcore, also i just want ghosts to not be very much like living people 2) GOD the thing about indis’s kids... i love....... the fucked up blowup of an ideal sibling relationship of mutual correction and help into this continent-wide, fairly miserable chase sequence. cleaning up after the dead. and yet miriel with the wide-angle view can’t help but see in it the seeds of what should have been and also something to be grateful for

living handmaiden miriel/ghost finwë who hovers over her shoulder while she’s weaving and asks “is that anime”/embittered single mom indis is the BEST THREESOME, qed*

*i proved nothing

#silmarillion #miriel #ulmo #aule #yavanna #nienna #feanor

[zesty-zestiria]

What are your personal favorite Zesty fan fics?

Hooo, that’s a loaded question, my friend, but I’ll give you some of my personal favorites (and some fanfic writers) -G

Alright, first things first, here are some writers that are definitely worth checking out:

SilverKitsune: 

Actually one of our admins here, she is an amazing writer. Also known as @soymilkheaven​ here on tumblr, she is partially responsible for the Purple Prose AU (Which is recommend you read, it’s hilarious), a very well written tainted au and a fair enough amount of smut to counteract the humor and angst haha.

Talesofsymphoniac

If you’ve been in the Zestiria fandom enough, you should at least know who @talesofsymphoniac​ is. She has written several works for Zestiria, Rosali and Sormik being the main pairings she has written for. She has also written for the Purple Prose AU along with a various assortment of AUs.

Seraphic_gate

Also known as @shippy-things​ here on tumblr. May I just start off saying, they are an amazing writer. So far their most prominent fic (as far as I’ve seen) is “Our Historia” which is a very fun read, although it hasn’t been updated in awhile (I know that feeling all too well, unfortunately aah)

FortunesRevolver

Yet another amazing author, so far they’ve written an assortment of canon-verse fics alongside aus. All of their fics are an entertaining read. Unfortunately, I don’t know if they have a tumblr or not ^^’ 

ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong

A good friend of mine, her tumblr is @shepherdsoreydidnothingwrong. She hasn’t written as many fics as the other authors mentioned on the list, but nonetheless a very good writer. She has written a role swap au and several other aus and canon verse fics. They’re all hilarious and you’ll find yourself at the very least chuckling at the dialogue or descriptions.

Now onto the actual fic recs; I scrolled through my bookmarks on Archive, so let’s get on with the show *rubs hands together*

With so Much of Himself By KrissyCrystal

Summary: Sorey remembers looking down at the image of his skin pulled back and he remembers the concave dip of a hollow stomach.He would never be able to forget it.

This emotional roller coaster of a fic deals with an anorexic Sorey and how Mikleo and the people around him help him get better. Canon-verse, angst, Sorey/Mikleo

Winds day By drunknpylades

Summary: Maybe Dezel’s not as absent as everyone thought. And who better to feel the wind than another wind seraph?

Small Dezel/Zaveid (For like a paragraph or two at best) All in all, it’s more Dezel looking after the party after his death. Dezel/Zaveid, angst/fluff

A Light that Never Goes Out By lyriumveins

Summary: Sorey is the new guitarist of an incredibly sub-par band and, truth be told, he loves everything about it. He’s settling into a comfortable routine of practicing and performing when his friends find out about his “complex feelings” for Mikleo, his classical pianist roommate who’s also tragically uninvolved in the band scene. Naturally, they decide to bring the two together.

In short, the band AU you never know you needed. I remember someone recommending this fic in a tumblr post and my god, I was hungry for more. It is fairly long, but such a fun read. Mikleo/Sorey, AU, humor

The Bone Zone By Haurvatat

Summary: So, as it turns out, the Bone Zone has nothing to do with paleoarchaeology or forensic anthropology.  For Sorey and Mikleo, this is simultaneously disappointing and intriguing. 

This is a funny smut fic that I had to add onto this list. Just two goofballs being oblivious and figuring out sex. Sorey/Mikleo, smut, humor

Mixed up By wolfgun

 Summary: A fight with a hellion seemed simple enough, until upon the defeat of it… The group finds themselves in a bit of an odd situation. The lasting malevolence manifested itself into a spell that knocked each of their souls into another’s body.

The body swap AU that every fandom needs and has. This fic is absolutely funny. Mikleo/Sorey, Dezel/Rose, Alisha/Lailah, humor

The Whisper of the wind By ProPinkist

Summary: After losing Dezel, Sorey tries to make amends.

There’s been too much fun on this list, so here’s some angst. Honestly, this is a big mush of hurt and tears but still good. Actually, this is one of the first fics I read in the ToZ fandom. Angst

Carry Me Home By Windian

Summary: Edna doesn’t expect to be comforted by Meebo, of all people.

Haha wow do you hear that? That’s me crying. Yet another fic that I read when I first got into the fandom. Hurt/Comfort

Unpredictable By Nienna

Summary:Zaveid had learned that Eizen’s curse could take on the strangest forms. Sometimes, though, its outcome still managed to surprise him. 

For once, not a Sormik fic haha. I decided we needed some Zaveizen here, although there is little content that isn’t smut (smh) Zaveid/Eizen, fluff, humor

Lullaby to the Wind By Nienna  

Summary: At night, Eizen sang. Only the wind listened.

Liste,,n,, l i s t e n,,,.This is absolutely one of my faves as far as zaveid/eizen fic goes. Zaveid/Eizen, fluff, violence

And that’s all I have for now. Whew, this list got pretty long

#anonymous #answered #fic rec #tales of zestiria

[driftinglightofthewoods]

Mandos’ Trial || Headcanon

Because my brain decided this was the perfect thing to brainstorm about when I woke up at 4 am today. Anyway, before I dive into what is no doubt going to be a very long and detailed explaination of something very deeply rooted into headcanon territory, a little tidbit first: My ideas on Mandos/Namo are mostly based on how @lacrimosa-magnolia portrays her Namo. Her version just happens to be my favorite.

We good? We good. Okay. On the case of Mandos’ trial

Now while Melkor is the most powerful of the Valar, after he rebelled the other Valar were more restricted in their magic. This faith also befell on Mandos and it altered how he was able to do his trial. In the early days, Mandos could summon anyone he wished to his care and none turned away from his summoning. However, after Melkor rebelled, Mandos’ power was limited and restricted as Eru Iluvatar decided that the souls should have more say in their process of turning to Mandos. A new trial has been put up which plays out the same everytime, with difference branching paths to take. First of all, an elf needs to be officially deceased to receive Mandos’ call. Even within an inch of their lives Mandos can do nothing for anyone still deemed “alive” even if they’re more dead than living, which Morgoth and Sauron later would use to create Orcs out of Elves.

While it’s called his summoning, Mandos doesn’t order a soul to do anything, not anymore. Instead, he asks “Do you wish to heed my call?” - What is your advice? At different points in the trial the soul is allowed to ask the Vala for his advice. However, asking this at this point in the trial will only lead to the answer: “I may not answer that. I am biased.” Eru has decided that unless Mandos’ advice is unbiased, he is not allowed to say anything. And since Mandos will always want for a soul to heed his call, he is thus not allowed to advice the soul on this. *side note: Mandos is not allowed to convince a soul to come to him, but there have been occassions where souls have convinced each other to heed the Vala’s call. After big battles with lots of casualties, Mandos’ usually as a bigger turn up at his Halls because of this.

- No The soul drifts away from Mandos’ protection and can potentially fall victim to necromancers or other people with ill will, but Mandos will not judge you for this. However, once the soul has said either no or yes to any of his questions, they’re not allowed to change the answer.

- Yes The soul becomes a ghostly butterfly and starts the journey to the Halls of Mandos. Now under the protection of the Vala as they’re his citizen and responsibility, he will protect the butterfly from people with ill intentions as it travels to his Halls. Sometimes these butterflies get a bit lost on their way, but Mandos does not give up on any of his butterflies. If needed, he or his Maiar will scoop up lost butterflies and retrieve them from odd positions.  

The more damaged the soul is, the more it shows in the ghostly butterfly as ripped wings or other injuries like that. Once they arrive in Mandos’ halls, they are put in individual glass jars with various nourishments to nurse them back to health. Once they are back to full physical health, the next part of the trial begins. A Maiar will present the butterfly and temporarily make the soul represent themselves as their elven form. “Do you wish to be reborn?”

- What is your advice? This is one of the occassions where Mandos is allowed to give his advice, and he will give it so unbiasedly. The soul has the choice to go along with his advice, or ignore it and pick the opposite of what Mandos suggests.

- No The soul becomes part of the permanent butterflies that flutter around in Mandos’ halls

- Yes “Then answer my question; do you wish to be reborn in Valinor, or Arda?”

- What is your advice? This is another question Mandos can’t give an unbiased answer to, for he will always want souls to remain in Valinor so he can guide them further. So he’s not allowed to answer.

- I wish to be reborn in Arda The soul is reincarnated as a child near an elven settlement, and Mandos no longer has any control over what the future holds for them. This also means the soul hasn’t tired of Arda yet.

- I wish to be reborn in Valinor This usually means that whatever the soul endured before they answered Mandos call was so traumatizing that they’ll no longer find peace in Arda. They remain under Mandos’ care

If the soul decides to be reborn in Valinor, there are still some options and questions to go through. After stating their wish, Mandos will ask;

“Do you wish for further healing from my siblings?”

- What is your advice? Mandos will give his unbiased advice on if he thinks the soul needs further healing, which the soul is once more allowed to either follow or ignore.

- No The soul is immediately reborn as a child in Valinor and can no longer seek Mandos advice.

- Yes “Then here is my final question: Do you need mercy, or hope?”

- What is your advice? Questioning what Mandos thinks you need will only make him smirk and answer “I cannot advice you on what you need.” He can’t advice on this because it’s completely up to the soul’s personal interpretation of the two words to decide what they need, and what still haunts their mind more.

- I need mercy The soul is send to Nienna’s halls and is aided in their journey through their grief and regrets. More often than not souls under Nienna’s care still cope with the guilt of actions and crimes they committed before coming to her brother’s halls. Time passes quickly for them and they’re usually “released” when they’re an adult once more. Nienna asks each soul before they’re send out into Valinor who they fear facing the most. If it’s answered truthfully she will show mercy and have them meet with someone else first. If she’s lied to she will make them face that person first. 

- I need hope The soul is send to Irmo’s halls and taken under his care. More often than not these are sorrowful souls who need guidance in regaining goals and other such things, with Irmo’s Maiar calling it “the process of daring to dream again.” Time moves at an equally fast speed in Irmo’s halls, and he also sends out souls when they’re back to adulthood again. He asks the same question Nienna will ask, and he reacts the same way as she does to being told the truth or being lied to.

#headcanon territory #Mandos #Irmo #Nienna #this is a really long post sorry