#dunadaneth

[swordoaths]

@dunadaneth​ | plotted starter

   His was the song of exile, hummed well below the mountains and accompanied by the draw of his bow to the fiddle. (The fiddle your father made before his death. Aye, there were other things beyond weapons that we dwarves once made.) None beyond kin would hear this song, for like the words kept for dwarvish ears alone, its tune was just as sacred. But Fíli carried it in his heart, low and deep until it fell in rhythm with every heartbeat. This song endured in the forges, where his hands worked the orange-red glow into something worthy to wield in battle. Its message drowned out the clanging of metal and the exhale of the bellows. And it guided him in his travels down from the Blue Mountains, an heir turned merchant--- selling the weapons he forged so that he might lessen the burden of his kin. 

      If it would lessen the sacrifices his uncle made, stop his mother from endless nights of work, and give Kíli extra hours to train, then Fíli would do it. There was no question. He did what he must do for those he held most dear.

   And this was the reason he found himself out there. He was willing to barter what he had made with those who had money in their pockets, or something else useful for his kin. But that did not mean he came down from the mountains with his guard down. Nay, he had weapons of his own beyond those he was willing to sell, and they were tucked ‘neath furs, vambrances, and boots. The wild was no place for those who could not fight nor fend for themselves, Fíli was so taught since he was but a young strapling. And he could do both.

    Such training may prove to come in handy this night, for just as the sun sank low and Fíli had finished making camp, something stirred in the growing shadows. 

    “Strangers this close to nightfall make for poor company,” he spoke into the growing night. “What brings you this way?”

#dunadaneth #&. Fíli interactions #&. fíli interactions

[elvcnson]

sentence and symbol starters

@dunadaneth​ said: “Once, just once, I’d like for someone to bring me flowers instead of corpses.”

HAUNCHES WERE FOUND AND SETTLED UPON, the grass scarce bowing neath the ellon's sparse weight as with FLUID gesture he crouched beside the fallen. Cowl pulled asunder to allow a less SULLIED view, void of cast shadow. An Orc attack mayhap? Nay, these wounds spoke of a different beast....though alas, it seemed this poor soul had fallen prey to one no less foul!

The ranger’s words coax LEGOLAS, offering escape from morbid postulation. CERULEAN hues address the woman stood beyond them, their sharp, astute gaze so very akin to a parents. Contemplation expunged from fair features to be replace with a rare glimmer of  m i r t h  in the angles of the PRINCELING’S expression. An impish grace in the listing of an elegant jaw. ‘Aye.. yet are bouquets not simply the gathering of unfortunate corpses of plucked flora, mellon nîn? Their end is simply prolonged so that they may be admired for the pleasure their BEAUTY brings to the eye. ’

#dunadaneth #[ meme replies ] #[ lego vc: it's still technically a dead thing ]

[prvtocol]

For Bri: 🌈☀️🟥 and for Vez: 🧠💬🩸⚔️ LOL

@dunadaneth >> RELATIONSHIP TYPES (accepting)

Bri & Créa:

🌈 developing friendship ☀️ friends of circumstance 🟥 one muse makes a deal or contract with the other

Vez & Créa:

🧠 enemies as narrative foils 💬 enemies because of conflicting ideologies 🩸 enemies tolerating each other for a common goal ⚔️ rivalry

Literal sunshine and rainbows for one.... blood and swords for the other. I’m more amused that we haven’t gotten to the true enemy level in our fourth age threads yet. I think we need to remedy that. Poor Elladan though.

#dunadaneth #⚘ ˚◞ answers ◞ 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎. #𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘 :「 verse | tolkien 」. #(( in the end it's Créa's tolerance that's the real mvp ))

[bladewarde]

𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺 𝑴𝟖𝑺

💜  enemies to friends (begrudgingly <3) ;  ❣️ forced to work together for a common goal / @dunadaneth​

spend enough time with a thief, and eventually you will learn to love her. <3 ( said no one but me! )

crea and laera have such hilarious dynamic. they’re on total opposite ends of the morality scale ( mostly ) and probably have little in the way of finding things in common about themselves...... but i think it works? laera not being loyal to anyone really but herself is a fact crea can, and has in our thread, used to focus on the bigger problems plaguing towns and cities, like rooting out criminal gangs. and i don’t think laera particularly minds being used in this way so long as she’s not arrested, and can also take a portion of the goods. >:)

i also think laera actually LIKES crea!! yeah, she’s a stick in the mud, but i think laera realises that, if given enough time, crea can maybe warm up to her and be a true friend. if she’s as loyal to the rangers... and if laera proves herself honest in the work they do together, what’s really to stop them from being friends?

also, an idea: laera being the one to save crea and that’s when it’s like “she really isn’t all that terrible” and they can be buddies. <3

#dunadaneth #❛ ― ooc answers. / bzzt eldritch blast!

[starsspin-a]

         “You alright?” he asks, offering his free hand to her to help her to her feet. Gray hues make a quick sweep of the area around them. “We’ll be spotted if we are up here out in the open for too long. We should keep moving.” His attention turns back to her, seeking confirmation that she was alright to continue. 

@dunadaneth​ / ✧✦✧

#dunadaneth #ranger threads! ranger threads!! #II faramir II ic #II faramir II threads

[silvcrweaver]

What’s their birthstone? Do they like how it looks? Why or why not? How do they see themselves in their head, and how is that image wrong? When was the last time they physically attacked something?

98 unique character development questions

51.) What’s their birthstone? Do they like how it looks? Why or why not?

So Efailwen was born in January, making her birthstone garnet, which is red. She is reluctant to be associated with anything red, as it is the colour of the House of Fëanor. It is for this reason that Efailwen only wears blue, because, while she does not hate her forefathers, she is always very, very conscious of what they did and, as a result, does not wish to be loud and proud about her lineage, out of sensitivity for those still living in Middle Earth who may have been affected by the Kinslayings.

4.) How do they see themselves in their head, and how is that image wrong?

Well, Efailwen has sort of the same thing that Theoden has. You know, a lesser son of greater sires, am I. Her great-grandfather was the greatest of the Noldor and the High King, her great-grandmother was Queen and a sculptor whose works are still spoken of, her grandfather was an incredibly skilled smith and Lord of Himlad, and her father was the greatest smith of the Third Age and Lord of Eregion. They are the elves of legends, mighty master craftsmen, kings and lords, and Efailwen just sees herself as lesser than them. She has no title, no great works. She's just holding the line, really.

It's wrong, obviously, that she measures herself against Fëanor, Curufin and Celebrimbor. It's wrong, also, that she doesn't think she's mighty because she has no title or great work. She is mighty. What makes her mighty is her acts of compassion, her bravery, and her determination. Tending to the sick during the Plague, helping evacuate the crofts of Rohan, those were noble and mighty deeds.

60.) When was the last time they physically attacked something?

Oh, dude, Efailwen is always attacking things. Orcs, wargs, ne'er do wells, Easterlings, Haradrim, whoever owes their allegiance to Sauron, and whoever causes trouble for innocent people.

#dunadaneth #watcher of eregion [headcanons]

[celebrimbot]

a christmas commission of @vezely​ & @peredhellen ‘s characters done for the wonderful @dunadaneth!

#my art #commissions #lotr #lotr ocs #lord of the rings #lotrrpc #vezely #peredhellen #dunadaneth #elladan #peredhel #elves #slight nsft #commission

[vezely-a]

Motionless, the lithe emissary stands, back casually leaning against a tree, arms crossed at her front. Lithe form is not cloaked in the black robes of her order, but black is her Rhûnic garb which stands in stark contrast to the vivid colors of her surroundings. Stare sits inward so that kohl-lined eyes appear stuck on no point at all. Weary mind, however, ruminates on her predicament. Out of sight are the elven sentries spread about her perimeter, bid to keep her from wandering too far among the estate before it is time to return to her quarters. But what is there to do but wait? Wait until the one she seeks arrives. Time is costing her everything.

Eyes reanimate when hearing another on the nearby path but she does not move. It is not him, the half-elven lord that brought her here, that much is certain. // ( plotted starter | @dunadaneth​ )

#dunadaneth #verse; of where the shadows lie (tolkien). #subverse; the sun sets in the west. #(( just throwing this at you cause !! I'M EXCITED ok #and your suggestion of mirkwood elves with gollum - she's not climbing a tree tho. lol #but look. it's almost one paragraph. i think we can do this ))

[durinbled]

continued from here / @dunadaneth​

❛ why? because my people have an affinity for stone? ❜ he had yet to work with precious rocks, metals, and gems himself, but his mother and uncle had turned the skill in it into an art form. creating beauty out of natural elements was a point of pride for the khazâd, but as with most things, he had diverged towards other interests — much to his mother’s chagrin. ❛ you would know more than i. you’ve seen the world through a lens that i’ve only ever dreamed of attaining. ❜ while he enjoyed running trade between dunland and ered luin, there was still an entire world out there that he had yet to experience.

his heart ached for it.

❛ tell me of your adventures. it will help to ease the weight of such stone. ❜

#dunadaneth

[elvcnson]

@dunadaneth​ said: [  bouquet  ] (a dried one maybe?)

   THE GIFT DOTH COAX A SOFT ARCING OF DARK BROWS ALOFT A SMOOTH FOREHEAD. Mute surprise on ethereal features as hands are presented with the posy of dried blooms. An elusive playful quirk taking the ellon’s mouth.  ‘ I confess a curiosity!... what action of mine has prompted such kindness? ’  A canting is drawn from the THRANDUILION’S circlet adorned head by the favour...though too does it draw a small smile. GREENLEAF’S lips tilting with gentle inflection at their corners as  c e r u l e a n  eyes so akin to their parentage settle upon the foliage carefully cradled in graceful hands.  Melancholy relieving jest of it’s role. 

A thumb journeys along a FRAGILE petal, a careful, wistful stroke.  LEGOLAS regarding each brittle blossom with r e v e r e n c e ...and for a beat he finds himself lost to memory. Lost to the evocation of a MOTHERS scent and patient guiding upon  d i m i n u t i v e  hands as foliage is arranged neath parchment and press. Such childish GAIETY and pride at learning of some great skill...the loving laughter of a parent dancing loftily in carved plafond. So acute it comes to him! How it threatens to STEAL the breath from his lungs! It stirs at an ancient pain neath aching ribs...yet too there was a pleasure  in the ushering of such a recollection. GREENLEAF’S eye raising, finding the Rangers with naught but a subtle affection. The smile still capturing the princeling’s lips as a free hand raises to his breast. Fair head inclining, light coruscating from the circlet that garlanded it.

‘ Le fael, mellon nin...’

#dunadaneth #[ meme replies ] #[ he was playful....but then naneth feelings hit ]

[bladewarde]

There’s an odd sense of loss Laera experiences in watching the ranger count her coins, and knowing that, when she’s done, they’ll no longer belong to her. It’s watching her food, her lodging, and anything else she intended to procure, disappear; though, the same can easily be said of those whom she stole from. Regardless of who anyone is, war makes everyone desperate.

Her dirty fingers pick at the table she sits at, sneaking glances at the ranger, and she wonders why she’s the only one sitting in this room. ( Too slow? Too stupid to run when the group scatters? ) She fell in with a lot of highwaymen that were unbothered in feeding her to the wolves first; funny how that goes...

The sound of another coin falling in the pouch is like another jab to the gut, and she twists in her chair with a huff, ❝ What are you going to do with the money...? ❞ She has to ask, but assumes that the noble jailer she’s found company with will do the right thing; she seems the sort. Or if she was any less noble, keep it for herself. The irony in a thief being stolen from makes her brows furrow, and Laera speaks up again, ❝ Who would ‘old you accountable for simply... walking off with what you ‘ave there? Is there some sort o’ order to you rangers? ❞ Gaze lingers on the other woman, wondering if she’ll divulge, but that seems unlikely.

In her wanderings northward, she came to understand that -- for someone of her occupation -- rangers were possibly the worst thing she need worry about. As the boundaries of the law dissolved, she was told its upkeep fell to the otherwise untrustworthy rangers. ‘ They’re dangerous, ’ One of her associates said, but as Laera sits in the presence of one, that remains to be seen. However, she doesn’t want to remain in her company long enough to see just how dangerous.

@dunadaneth​​ / plotted!

#dunadaneth #verse tba. #im sos orry this took me over a week to get out fffsss #❛ 𝒊𝒄. / ic thread.

[watcherofroads]

@dunadaneth

Long had the Dunedain been spoken of in the halls of Imladris. Their chieftain had been raised there before venturing north to take up the mantle his father left. Intrigued, Tirron had gone with Elladan and Elrohir on their last venture to the lands of rangers. 

 The journey had revealed truly how much time had passed since he had walked the earth. Buildings and monuments that still had the clean cut lines from the quarry were now broken, a pile of rubble at the bases of once-great buildings. The regrets of the years spent recovering settled heavily on him. There was much time to make up for.

In Esteldin, the twins had introduced him to the few rangers who were present. Tirron found their culture fascinating, and wished to know and do more. That desire is what drove him to return to the North Downs. The tendrils of evil had been creeping from the east. Even Angmar, the cursed womb, had sent creatures issuing forth. If he was to help in the war effort, that is where he would start.

A late summer sun shone into the settlement of Esteldin, lighting the brownstone and creating an atmosphere of warmth. Tirron approached the first person he came across. 

“Pardon the interruption. I wish to assist your efforts. Can you direct me to the person to whom I should speak?”

#dunadaneth #v: where the winds waken (third age)

[immortalmuses]

Starter for @dunadaneth​ from Elrohir

         It is the height of spring in Middle Earth, and Elrohir is passing north. About this time each year, when the days are warming and creatures emerge from their winter burrows, the Peredhel makes a circuit between the Weather Hills and the North Downs mountain range, passing just south of the Ruins that were once Fornost Erain. Sometimes he makes the trip in the company of his brothers (twin or otherwise), but this year sees the Half-Elf on his own, letting his Mearas mount pick her way across the awakening terrain while he scans the line of trees they are following. Spring season is, inevitably, when the roving Orc bands come out of whatever hole they were hiding in, and make yet another attempt to reclaim the lost city at the foot of the range.

          Elrohir prefer to nip such a thing in the bud, ensuring agents of the Witch-King never even attempt to establish a foothold in these lands again. At least, not here.

       The Peredhel senses the slowing of his Mearas companion and lowers his eyes from the tree line, a palm resting across her withers. Sílalë snorts, her voice in Elrohir's head carrying a warning, but no alarm. Someone is nearby. Twisting easily on the mare's back, the Half-Elf directs his gaze more pointedly into the depths of the forest on his left. Few can hide from the trained eye of a Maiar descendent, but those who can without the use of darker magic are generally call friend.

         Elrohir's mouth slants crookedly, something between a smirk and a smile. He raises a hand, "... Greetings, traveler. It is rare to see another this far North of Amon Gwilwist"

#dunadaneth #thread: dunadaneth01 #Fandom: Tolkien Universe #c: Elrohir #Elrohir: threads #Elrohir :: verse :: With Stars on his Brow #q

[mindsmade]

V put your dick back in your pants :I I know its the best part of the outfit but cmon

@dunadaneth

     ❛  Too far? ... Yeah, too far.  ❜

( ––– honest and 110% serious side note from me: v wears a packer and it fell out of his pants on at least one occasion. i justify this by sharing the fact that it happened to me once. y’all can laugh at me bc i sure am!!! )

#dunadaneth #query: ic. #❛ thread / v. #❛ headcanon / v. #i guess this can go in that tag!! #anyway we don't talk about my self-insertion there LMAO #and me turning the infamous bug into smth serious bye

[alassofesteldin]

THIRD AGE, 2959 - ESTELDIN, THE NORTH DOWNS / @dunadaneth​​

“I just finished my training for today.” the young scout said, plopping her behind on the nearby stone fence that encircled the gardens. The moment she sat, her knees made a loud cracking noise. She immediately jumped back up, realizing the surface was wet and now there was a round, wet stain on her trousers. Scowling at the stain, Sidhen tried covering it with her tunic but to no avail. She’d have to wait for it to dry. “Mother said to go ‘round and ask if I’m needed anywhere.” 

Not that Sidhen was incredibly eager to do garden work, just after finishing a 3 mile lap around the settlement at Dagoras’ behest, then having to aid Ferrif with skinning some rabbits.

“Need some help, then?”

#dunadaneth #hope this is ok with you!