#house telcontar

[katajainen]

And there at the door were two guards in the livery of the Citadel: one tall, but the other scarce the height of a boy; and when he saw them he cried aloud in surprise and joy.

'Strider! How splendid! Do you know, I guessed it was you in the black ships. But they were all shouting corsairs and wouldn't listen to me. How did you do it?'

Aragorn laughed, and took the hobbit by the hand. 'Well met indeed!' he said. 'But there is not time yet for travellers' tales.'

But Imrahil said to Éomer: 'Is it thus that we speak to our kings? Yet maybe he will wear his crown in some other name!'

And Aragorn hearing him, turned and said: 'Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am Elessar, the Elfstone, and Envinyatar, the Renewer': and he lifted from his breast the green stone that lay there. 'But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.'

Or, the time in The Return of the King where Pippin casually names the Royal House of Gondor. (I will never NOT find this funny, because this is so quintessentially Tolkienian brand of humour.)

#lotr #pippin took #aragorn #elessar telcontar #and don't come telling me Arwen didn't CACKLE the first time she heard it #(she shares his awful sense of humour) #the lotr newsletter #the houses of healing

[philtstone]

Eowyn, 1

1 - in lonely beds ive finally scraped together a functional first scene for my accidentally-a-psych 3 hunters detective agency au. if you guys like this mess i'll turn it into a real fic. with chapters and a plot and everything!!!!! the prompt is ... interpreted but loneliness and my girl eowyn are well acquainted

It is four o'clock on a Tuesday and Eowyn Eomundsdottir has three significant problems. 

Arrest, rapid-onset dementia, and laundry.

Each of her issues is easily explainable if considered separately. Eowyn is the first to admit that her brother Eomer’s always had a bit of a temper, and if she puts aside the necessary development of maturity and commitment to familial responsibilities that happened after their parents died, it was always a matter of time before some poor idiot pressed his buttons in just the wrong-enough way in front of another just the wrong-enough idiot to get him jailed overnight for knocking in an unwitting nose. 

Plenty of people’s uncles develop rapid-onset dementia, she is freely ready to acknowledge. 

And – if Eowyn may be so self-aware – she has certainly fallen behind on her laundry many times before. 

But no matter how short her brother’s temper, he wouldn’t be arrested for trying to embezzle family funds. Rapid-onset dementia is far less likely when there is next to nil history of it in your family tree, and even less so when the Uncle in question is a scant fifty-three and doing perfectly fine not two months ago. And, most importantly: Eowyn has fallen behind on laundry before, but never because of the above-mentioned two issues, and never such that the only thing she’s got left to wear is a thin white sundress from when she was fourteen that is too short at the knees and not at all suited for the early spring cold spell they are currently experiencing, nor the creepy wandering eyes of Uncle Theoden’s new business manager, who routinely looks like he’s been doused in oil. 

It’s fucking miserable, is what it is. Her knees have goosepimpled, she’s so cold. And to make matters worse, her cousin Theodred, whom she would usually text for help in a crisis, seems to have blocked her phone number.

That, Eowyn simply can’t believe.

It’s because of all these things that she finds herself standing at the dingy brick building by the docks, eyeing the circling seagulls warily, and clutching her backpack in one hand and her bike helmet — which has left her long blonde hair looking like a birds nest — in the other. It’s a small place, with a glass window in place of a front wall that’s got the blinds drawn on the inside. There’s no official sign, but someone has taped a small piece of cardstock to the back of the windowpane, facing out. It reads, in surprisingly elegant black Sharpie penmanship:

Telcontar, Gloinson & Thranduilion Private Investigators for Hire 

Beneath this, there is an additionally taped series of brightly coloured post-it notes, which are scrawled over with the following in various hands:

Got a phone! [phone] (If no one answers the door, call the number! We DO NOT have a website.) That’s because Gimli thinks the government is spying on us. SO DO YOU! All inquiries welcome :-) 

Eowyn takes a moment to read through it all. Then she pauses, listening. There is the distinct sound of voices from within, muffled. So someone must be home, then – better just to open the door, rather than knock, in case no one hears her. She takes a deep, steadying breath, tugs at the too-short hem of her dress, and twists the doorknob.

Inside there is what can only be described as carefully organized chaos.

Within the small office space there is a cluttered desk housing a laptop and overlarge monitor. Boxes cover everything, as though someone has only just moved in, and a lopsided whiteboard rests against the far wall, covered in a far less elegant version than the hand that wrote the outside sign. Everything smells a little bit like camphor, and also cookies, and a very faint touch of gym socks. A man sits on a rolly chair in the corner; he is on his cellphone. Eowyn wouldn’t have even seen him if he wasn’t talking, so well does he somehow blend into the taupe walls and cluttered box decor, but as she does: he is tall (too tall for the chair), dark haired, and wearing an old grey hoodie, running shoes, and an abominably ratty pair of jeans. He’s talking on the phone in a low gentle voice that is nonetheless a touch put-upon, but nowhere near snippy or even frustrated. Eowyn (in a fit of fancy) doesn’t think a voice like that could be capable of snippiness, and then promptly feels very embarrassed by her own foolishness. At his feet, by the bottom of the whiteboard, a pile of dirty blankets rests. From within them sounds a plaintive meowing. Opera music plays from a speaker system Eowyn can’t see; a hammer (maybe?) is banging somewhere in the distant back room, the door to which hangs open on squeaky hinges; and two other voices can be heard arguing loudly from the same general direction.

Also, there is a young man, around Eowyn’s own age, standing very awkwardly with his green jumper and moppish brown hair to the immediate left of the door and looking as if he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing with himself. At Eowyn’s bewildered look, he offers her a pained smile and a weird little wave hullo. Eowyn waves weirdly back.

“Yeah – yeah, just a second. We’ve got a client –” The man in the rolly chair looks up at Eowyn and smiles. It is such a very nice, genuinely kind smile that Eowyn cannot help but smile back immediately and then feel her whole face go red; she’d be thoroughly soothed if she wasn’t also feeling so completely out of her depth. Bang bang bang, comes the hammer from the back room, along with a swelling of the arguing voices. “Someone will be with you in a second,” whisper-mouths the man. Then he reaches down, takes off one of his running shoes, and flings it very expertly through the open door. There is a small noise, like a crash, and the other two voices stop. He returns to his phone call.

“... what I was saying. No. No, I don’t want you to be halfway across the world. That’s not the point, the point is your dad stopped practicing ten years ago and now owns a bed and breakfast. He’s not the one who’d be navigating a corrupt healthcare system. Do you know how much lobby money lines the pockets of mega corporations? Remember the whole Nestle baby formula thing? The media definitely doesn’t …” 

“Good afternoon!” declares a second, much louder voice, minutes before its owner materializes behind the cluttered desk. He is more beard than man, wears a very formal and very 1990s plum coloured suit and one single gold earring, and comes up to about Eowyn’s shoulder. He claps his hands together. “Now, which of you was here first? No – don’t tell me, I will guess!”

But his imminent guessing is interrupted by the third voice, floating in: 

“I still can’t find it!”

Desk man deflates by a margin. Without turning his head, he calls, 

“I told you to look in the third box!” 

“I looked there. It’s not there, Gimli. I’ll try going through the books.”

“Why would a thing like that fit in a book?”

“Try the kitchen,” mouths the man on the rolly chair. A muffled woman’s voice comes through his mobile. He has one hand covering his face now, and his head tipped back to face the ceiling. “Well, yes – I do know that. You’re really telling me you don’t want to go to Paris for a year.” While Eowyn watches the meowing blanket pile moves and from within it a truly horrible looking little cat emerges. It shoots one paw out as if intending specifically to scratch its phone-occupied companion; the speed at which he moves his foot to pin the blankets hem and thwart the little paw is bordering on superhuman. Cat hisses pathetically from under its blanket prison. On the speakers, the opera singer has reached a uniquely high pitch in her stanza. “No, obviously I don’t want to do long-distance, I just think — uh huh. Yes. I’d tell anyone to go to Paris. I’d tell Gimli to go, if Gimli’s university was offering to send him to Paris.”

“He’s already tried the kitchen,” says the man at the desk – presumably Gimli. Still, he yells out, “Try the kitchen, would you?”

“I’ve already tried the kitchen!” calls the disembodied voice. “I can’t find it!”

“You can’t find it because of your terrible organizational system.”

“It is not my terrible organizational system, which you know, and besides which I have never had problems with it before.”

“No,” from the rolling chair, “Legolas is maligning my organizational skills. I know you think they’re fine, so you can tell your cousin that on Sunday …”

“Try the kitchen.”

“I’ve tried the kitchen twice.”

Bang bang bang, continues the sound from the back room. Eowyn wonders if there isn’t an ongoing construction project. The young guy on her left, with the moppish hair and jumper, gives her a look as if to say, Filing cabinet, maybe?

“As you can see, gentle lady,” explains Gimli the desk man, very politely to Eowyn, while the second voice declares somewhat redundantly that he is, in fact, going to check the kitchen, “we are a tad busy this afternoon. Someone will be with you momentarily.” He turns, presumably in the kitchen’s direction, and calls out, “if you ask my opinion on the subject again, I’ll wallop you with Aragorn’s dratted guitar!”

Eowyn looks. There indeed is a battered old guitar, perched merrily on a pile of papers behind the front desk, ready to be used for walloping.

“I could come back later,” says Eowyn. She looks over at jumper guy, who’s staring at the still-hissing pile of blankets with some concern. “Can’t really speak for him, though.”

Jumper guy looks aggrieved. “Er – no, I’d rather not come back later. Gandalf said you’d be free to help.”

“And help –” begins Gimli, while there is another crash from the back room (they all wince, though Gimli does it with serenity) “-- we shall! If you give my colleague Legolas a moment to get his head on straight –” (the disembodied voice says something very rude in response to this pointed inflection), “-- then the two of us will be at your disposal.”

“Three of us,” interjects the first, almost forgotten voice. 

Eowyn and her jumper-clad companion turn startled to look: cellphone put away, rolly chair man has stood up to his quite considerable height and is looking at them consideringly. Despite his mildness of expression Eowyn experiences the uncomfortable feeling of being looked at by someone who could in a more fantastical setting have, like, laser vision or something – how is he doing it? And she is sure he isn’t really seeing right through her but she does get the sense he is understanding a lot more than she’d like to let on. Almost defiantly she tugs at her dress and clutches her bike helmet closer to herself. Jumper guy clears his throat. Then from the back room comes – presumably – Legolas, who is fair, thin, and for reasons unexplained wearing sunglasses indoors. He is also covered in what Eowyn hopes are pillow feathers and holding, in one hand, a very large glittering silver sword, and in the other a dingy looking VHS tape. It has cartoon vegetables in cloaks on the front.

“Did anyone know we still had this?” he asks pleasantly, and it is not clear to which find he is referring, “Arwen and I used to stare at it for hours as kids.” He spots Eowyn and her jumper-clad counterpart. “Oh – hello!”

Eowyn gapes. The three of them make a fascinating picture, standing there alongside each other.

“Now then,” says the man called Gimli. “Faramir, we know of already –” he nods at the boy beside Eowyn, who looks a bit bewildered by this, “as Gandalf sent him here! But this young lady we do not. How can we help?”

Perhaps it is the blinding reflection of the hopefully-a-prop sword, but Eowyn is suddenly overtaken by an awful affliction of watery eyes, which has nothing at all to do with her general feelings of overwhelm — until now expertly repressed — she is sure. She feels at once full of despair and yet shaking with eagerness, and everything she’d been desperate to explain to a listening ear gets stuck in her throat in the face of three, admittedly sort of weird (somewhat stern, verging on intense, dipping into outright comical), thoroughly kind faces looking right at her. It suddenly occurs to her how horribly, horribly alone she’s felt for the past six weeks.  

She remains rooted to the spot and tragically mute while Faramir, from beside her, begins all at once,

“I wasn’t sure where to go. I didn’t want it getting back to dad, so Gandalf seemed like the best option — and he said you were very trustworthy, and I do trust Gandalf of course – but it's my brother, you see, he’s disappeared,” vaguely Eowyn is aware of a grim look of surprise rippling through the collective at this reveal, “and it’ll sound crazy but I had this awful dream two weeks ago …”

While Eowyn attempts to wrangle her misbehaving emotions like one would a wobbly-legged yet stubbornly misbehaving colt, an impromptu consultation begins.

“Gone missing?”

“I bet he went hiking or something and lost his phone. It’s happened before.”

“Boromir hates hiking, though. Remember when Aragorn tried to bring him camping with us?”

“No wonder Gandalf sent you here.”

“I have odd dreams too sometimes; they are usually because of indigestion. I’m sure old Boromir’s just fine.”

“No,” insists Faramir, who seems – in Eowyn’s half-attentive estimation – to be doing an admirable job at hiding his surprise at this existing knowledge of his brother. “He’s not answering my texts – it’s like he’s blocked my number, which doesn’t make any sense!”

Eowyn’s head jerks around to stare at him. 

Could it be a coincidence? That is exactly the thought she herself had, not an hour ago, about her own cousin. Is it possible that she isn’t crazy, and her awful yearning for Eomer to be here and not in overnight jail, so someone who is not Eowyn could deal with things, is not childish? She opens her mouth, but her words are stuck again. All she can do is inhale like a small bird puffing up its chest and make a very very faint squeaking noise, which she is mostly sure no one can hear.

“Legolas,” interjects rolly chair man. His sharp grey eyes, which had flitted around briefly and shrewdly throughout the hubbub, are now fixed again on Eowyn, and thoughtful. The commotion dies down. In a mild voice he says, “Maybe you could fetch a clean pair of gym shorts and a blanket to lend our new friend, so she’ll be a bit more comfortable.” 

Eowyn, swaying a bit on the spot, hadn't even realized she was tugging at her dress again. 

“Oh,” she manages.

“Aye, I’d say you’re about the same size,” agrees Gimli, to Legolas, after a beat. “Aragorn has a good eye for these things,” he adds, as if needing their prospective clients in crisis to know this.

“I’ll bring her a comb, too,” says Legolas, not at all meanly, and goes to fetch these things.

“And I’ll put on some tea,” says Aragorn, so named, and for a second time his face softens with that warm, open smile. “I’m Aragorn,” he continues. “Let’s all sit down, and you can both start from the beginning; everything will be alright.”

In the moment after this offer Eowyn locks eyes with Faramir. He is standing next to her. His jumper looks particularly sad now that she is paying attention. He isn’t looking at Aragorn or the sword or the pillow feathers Legolas left behind, but at her. Right at her. There’s a solidarity there. It would be a touching exchange, Eowyn thinks, if not for the fact that the feral cat in its blanket pile has started talking to itself in oddly pitched meows.

A large crash sounds from the back room, accompanied by the sound of a child swearing.

“Yeah, okay,” Eowyn says. 

For the rest of today, at least, she has decided that she refuses to feel alone.

#my writing #taylor swift prompt memes #lord of the rings #eowyn #faramir #eowyn x faramir #aragorn #gimli #legolas #legolas x gimli #aragorn x arwen #for those wondering yes the veggie tales vhs is lord of the beans #and the cat IS gollum

[carlandrea]

And Aragorn hearing him, turned and said: 'Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am Elessar, the Elfstone, and Envinyatar, the Renewer': and he lifted from his breast the green stone that lay there. 'But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.'

This is the funniest bitch move Aragorn has pulled in his life

#lotr newsletter

[camille-lachenille]

Fourth Age headcanons (part 1/?):

Aragorn and Arwen's children: Eldarion, Tindómiel and Tinwërínel, Eldalótë

About the picture: Eldarion is wearing the ring of Barahir as well as the Elessar. Tindómiel favours dark colours, especially the royal colours of Gondor, and a few pieces of jewellery. Tiwërínel prefers a lighter and brighter palette for her clothes, and most of her wardrobe is inspired by Elvish fashion. Eldalótë wears bright colours and Elvish cut gowns, and she prefers pearl jewelery.

Eldarion always looks grave and thoughtful (he’s got his dad’s resting bitch face) but is actually very kind and optimistic. He makes for a good king in times of peace, close to his people and always ready to improve their life conditions. One of his chief missions is to expand the school system his mother established even to the most remote parts of the kingdom and founding affordable universities, the most famed being led by his sister. He is very fond of the sea, and spends as much of his time as he can in the coastal regions of his kingdom. He meets his wife, Medliniel, in Dol-Amroth, and they have a daughter, Míriel, who succeeds him on the throne.

Tindómiel and Tinwërínel are twins, born four years after Eldarion.

Tindómiel is stern and studious, preferring the company of old books to people. She is fiercely protective of her family and, much to the amusement of her parents inherited many of Elrond's mannerisms, notably his Disappointed GlareTM. Famed lore mistress, Tindómiel is the Lady of Isengard and dedicates her life to cataloguing and archiving all the things Saruman and his predecessors left in the tower of Orthanc, turning it in a high place of knowledge and studies in the Reunited Kingdom. She remains unwed but considers all the women of Gondor, Arnor, Rohan and beyond she taught as her daughters. She names one of her great-nieces as her heiress, declaring that the fiefdom of Isengard should always be ruled by a woman since men brought only ruin there. The Ladies of Isengard become known across all of Middle-Earth for their wisdom and knowledge.

Tinwërínel is as extroverted as her twin is introverted and she thrives in the political landscape of the Reunited Kingdom. Clever politician and ruthless diplomat, or vice versa depending of the situation, she is one of her father's most trusted advisors and he names her Stewardess of Arnor. Tinwërínel has to abdicate the function when she marries Elboron and becomes Princess of Ithilien, but she remains an active politician even as she raises three sons, and is part of her brother's council. She remains widowed at the age of 110 and returns to Annúminas where she is Chief Advisor of the Steward of Arnor until her death, several decades later.

Eldalótë, born seven years after the twins, is the splitting image of her mother, with her father’s love for wild places and his gift for healing. She is more than happy to be the youngest of the family, as it allows her to travel and explore without any care for politics. When in Gondor, Eldalótë spends most of her time studying the arts of healing, be it in Minas Tirith or beside Éowyn. It is during one of her stays in Ithilien that she meets Elfwine of Rohan, and they quickly start a secret courtship. They wed the year after she comes of age, making her queen of Rohan much to her dismay and her family’s amusement. Despite her initial reluctance, Eldalótë settles well enough in her role and dedicates much of her rule to building Houses of Healing in Edoras. She outlives her husband and, once their son is secure in his rule, Eldalótë leaves Rohan and divides her time between Minas Tirith, Orthanc and Annúminas. She is remembered in Rohan for her great kindess and constant cheerfulness.

About Eldarion's daughter under the cut:

King Eldarion of the House Telcontar, second king of the Reunited Kingdom, his wife Medliniel and their only daughter Míriel

About the picture: Eldarion didn't change his style much as he appears here in his regalia. Míriel is wearing her formal court attire, icluding the ring of Barahir and the Elessar. The cut of her sleeves is a nod to her Elven ancestry while imitating a cape at the same time, which gives her more freedom of movement than wearing an actual cape. Medliniel comes from lesser nobility and she is more comfortable wearing simpler clothes (compared to her husband and daughter) and favours blue, the colour od Dol Amroth, over red and black.

CW mentions of miscarriage

Eldarion meets Medliniel in Dol-Amroth and it is love at first sight for the both of them. They wed after the shortest courtship and engagement possible without seeming entirely inappropriate and are expecting a child within the year. Unfortunately, Medliniel looses the baby and it takes them a long time before trying again. Medliniel miscarries twice more before finally giving birth to a healthy little girl they name Míriel. Eldarion and Medliniel commonly agree not to try for more children because another pregnancy could be fatal to her. They cherish their daughter and make sure she gets the best possible education as a future queen.

Míriel spends most of her childhood with her parents doting on her, but she also makes long stays by her various aunts and cousins to perfection her education. She studies history and ancient lore in Orthanc under the strict instruction of Tindómiel, rides wildly across Rohan with Eldalótë and learns the subtlety of both ruling and motherhood by her aunt Tinwërinel’s side. Strong minded and free hearted, Míriel has three children without ever marrying, though she openly lives with her lover and make no secret he is the father of her children.

When she becomes the first Ruling Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, Míriel continues many of the social refoms started by her father and grandfather. Her greatest accomplishent is to see Osgiliath fully restored to its former glory and, by the end of her reign, she even moves the capital from Minas Tirith back to Osgiliath. Her reign is highly controversed by the nobility but she is well loved by her people, especially the women. In fact, Míriel leads a great reform of the laws revolving around family, marriage and inheritance, and made sure women had equal rights over their children with their husband. She also funded a network of shelters for abused women and children.

And I'll stop here before turning this massive post into a fully fleshed fanfiction.

Next post of this series will be about Tinwërínel and Eldalótë's lives and their children.

#Tindomiel is ace and lesbian she and doesn't like men very much as a rule #she took a look at the mess left in Orthanc by Saruman and whoever lived there before him and went “nah thanks I'll take over from now on” #also the doll maker is back baby! i went crazy with it and i’m not done. #tolkien #the lord of the rings #fourth age #aragorn #arwen #eldarion #headcanons #original characters #fourth age headcanons series

[annab99awritersdream]

Canon characters in my fic who need faceclaims:

(might be in need of a few updates, depending on how many canon book only! characters I actually end up including)

Ioreth

In my fic, she's Elenna's nursemaid and the self-proclaimed head of her household. She was lady-in-waiting to her grandmother, the Lady Finduilas of Dol Amroth and supervised her children's education.

Born: TA 2960 (is she really this young? Ioreth literally means 'old woman')

Died: FoA 39

Fancast: Harriet Walter

Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth

Prince of Dol Amroth, Elenna and Elboron's great-uncle. He loves Faramir's children deeply and they love him back (Elenna constantly asks him for stories and anecdotes about her grandmother)

Born: TA 2955

Died: FoA 34

Fancast: Jeremy Irons

(in his youth: Eric Bana)

Princess Finduilas of Dol Amroth

Imrahil's older sister. Elenna is said to be her spitting image, but she doesn't really believe it nor does she see the resemblance. She was Boromir and Faramir's mother and was married to Denethor, Ruling Steward of Gondor during the War of the Ring (though she was long dead by then)

Born: TA 2950

Died: TA 2988 (aged 38)

Fancast: Beren Saat

Elboron Faramirion

Elenna's younger brother and heir to the House of Stewards. She calls him sunshine. He's ten years her junior.

Born: FoA 11

Died: unknown

Fancast: Eoin Murtagh (toddler)

Toby Regbo (adult)

Eldarion Telcontar

Firstborn son of King Elessar and Queen Arwen Undómiel, he's the Crown Prince of Gondor and Arnor. Engaged to Elenna, he eventually marries Ilmarë, the Handmaiden of Varda.

Born: FoA 1

Died: FoA 220

Fancast: Henry Cavill

#theladyofithilien #canon characters #ioreth #eldarion #princeimrahil #finduilas of dol amroth #elboron #myfic #my writing

[glitteringaglarond]

'But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.'

It’s because the Hobbits call him Strider and he loves his Hobbits and I am definitely not crying over this 🥹

#lotr newsletter #my op #newsletter march 15

[tolkien-feels]

Aragorn: I'm going to call my house Telcontar. It means Strider. I really love my hobbit friends

Elanor: I'm going to call my son Elfstan. It means Elessar. I really love the king

#I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

[anipologist]

Nothing else ever quite beats that feeling you had when you first started reading the History of Middle Earth and discovered that Aragorn started out as a shoe-wearing hobbit named Trotter….

Oh the lofty origins of the great House of Telcontar

#jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien fandom #Tolkien #aragorn #aragorn elessar #random Tolkien #history of middle earth #tolkien musing #if I remember correctly sam found the shoe thing extremely sketchy

[pippinoftheshire]

AO3 Wrapped [Writers Edition]

(Found this on Tumblr somewhere obscure so...)

How many words have you written this year?

How many works did you publish this year?

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

What work of yours has the most hits?

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Favorite title you used

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

What work was the quickest to write?

What work took you the longest to write?

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

What’s your longest work of the year?

What’s your shortest work of the year?

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Your Favorite character to write this year?

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

Which work has the most comments?

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Did you write any gifts this year?

Did you receive any gifts this year?

What’s your most common category?

What do you listen to while writing?

Favorite work you wrote this year?

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Biggest surprise while writing this year

------------------------------------

I Don't know why I decided to torture myself by doing this but here we go:

1. 150,849

2. 52

3. And They Call It Salvation (TMFU/Unfinished)

4. House Telcontar (LoTR)

5. Oh… either my series The Fallout (Mission: Impossible), which was more of a self-indulgent thing tbh; or my long running Witcher fic, On the Streets Of Novigrad.

6. And Our Love Shall Be Like The Stars (TMFU)

7. The only times I have uses song lyrics (This being twice, and only for Good Omens fics) were The Velvet Underground and Lauren Aquilina.

8. Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin (Sometimes Gaby joins this tag). Second place goes to Ethan Hunt/August Walker. By ONE FIC!

9. Crowley/Aziraphale (Good Omens)

10. Scales and Secrets (TMFU) I think it took me two hours.

11. The Finer Act of Kindness (The Witcher.) Though there are a few others who come a close second…

12. about six or seven 😊

13. On The Streets of Novigrad (Witcher)  By a long shot.

14. If I Could Turn Back The Time (TMFU). At 588 words.

15. And They Call It Salvation (TMFU), Narnin O in Duath O Ernil (Middle-Earth) and On The Streets Of Novigrad (Witcher)

16. Napoleon Solo is a Little Shit. (Thank you, Writing GOD!!!)

17. Oh darn… tough one… Either Crowley or Illya/Napoleon…

18. Bruce Wayne. By far.

19. I’d like to do more Aziraphale/Crowley next year, but also to try and get back into Sherlock/John.

20. Eughhhh that’s an embarrassing question! …It would be, I Can’t Not Love You (TMFU)

21. 1,530

22. On The Streets of Novigrad (Witcher)

23. No, sadly 😊 But it’s on the Bucket List hehe

24. I did indeed! 4 of them!

25. No. Unless Kudos and Lovely comments count- I got plenty of those <3

26. Like Fandom? I’m confused. If it’s fandom then it’s Man From UNCLE 2015…

27. Dear lord- I have far too many playlists on Spotify- tailor made for almost every fic… So uh… Music?

28. At the moment it’s either We All Have Our Shadows (BvS), or Scales and Secrets (TMFU)

29. Blarghhhh why are these questions so HARD???

llya does too, but he is far from willing to offer that up. Now, in the stillness, Illya takes his first uninterrupted look at the man he has been looming over. The dark curls mattered with sweat and blood… eyes the color of a summer sky… O’ bozhe but Illya misses the sky… the way it would unspool in an endless ribbon over the city. In his memory, the buildings are untarnished, the clouds drifting on a slight breeze as a little boy runs amongst the leaves in a park, blond hair shining in the sunlight. Nothing has hurt him yet. Perhaps nothing ever will… if Illya does not blink.

30. Probably just how kind everyone is. The fandoms I belong to- especially The Man From UNCLE one- are just such wonderful people <3

#ao3 wrapped #fic writing #fanfiction #why did i do this????? #lol

[leschanceux]

@immortalmuses wanted a starter of modern!verse Legolas and Aragorn! -

College had been something of a wild ride so far.

To start with, Aragorn had been somewhat overwhelmed by the intensity of his classes; by sharing a room with someone who not only opposed his views and opinions in the classes they shared, but who also was apparently opposed to Aragorn in general. It was a sentiment that had started after a discussion about Aragorn's family, the exiled house of Telcontar, and it had only gotten worse since he'd developed an odd sort of friendship with an odd student he'd known in passing ( royal circles were expansive, exiled or not, after all ), who could more often than not be found in the apartment Aragorn and Boromir shared these days.

Said odd student was currently sprawled across the couch in their common area, near the tiny little pot containing the pothos ivy plant he'd brought over on one his last visits, much to Boromir's disgust --- the tiny plant Aragorn had been trying his hardest to look after properly.

"It's still alive," he offers casually, as if his guts aren't a churning mess of anxiety over whatever judgements Legolas might pass ( is their apartment warm enough? too warm? has he been watering it enough? using the right fertiliser? ). "I made tea, by the way. I got some loose green tea and those reusable tea bag things you were talking about last time. And there's honey, or I can cut up a lemon?"

#immortalmuses #THREAD; ( ARAGORN ) #WITH; ( LEGOLAS ) #VERSE; ( EDUCATION IS THE MOST POWERFUL WEAPON WHICH YOU CAN USE TO CHANGE THE WORLD )

[ao3feed-tolkien]

House Telcontar

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8zlGiwB

by PeregrinOfTheShire

After his coronation, will the new king of Gondor have the strength to follow his heart?

Words: 2544, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel, Gandalf | Mithrandir

Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8zlGiwB

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

[camille-lachenille]

Was thinking about how Aragorn and Arwen called their son Eldarion, son of Elves in Quenya, and it seems to me like a big political/cultural statement. It’s very in line with the strong attachment to Númenorean traditions of Gondor and shows that, once more, the line of Kings has strong Elven blood.

And I like to think that Aragorn and Arwen would name their daughters with the same goal, choosing the most blatantly Númenorean/Quenya names they can think of. My personal hc is that their eldest daughter is called Tindómiel, after Elros’ daughter (and consequently Arwen’s cousin), the first princess of Númenor. The other girls could be named after Númenorean queens, like Ancalimë, or noble ladies of the line of Elros.

It makes a lot of sense in the process of restoring the monarchy to return to the older traditions and Aragorn takes a new Quenya name, Elessar (Elf-stone), as his ruling name. The name of his House is Telcontar (which means Strider in Quenya and makes me very emotional whenever I think of it), to further enforce the tradition.

There is no information about the following kings of Gondor, but I really think that they would follow pretty strongly these naming conventions, at least the first few kings. I also want to believe that the laws of succession in Gondor are the same as Númenor’s were and it means that the eldest child of a monarch inherit the throne no matter of gender. I need a Ruling Queen of Gondor.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #eldarion #aragorn #arwen undomiel #quenya #gondor #númenor #names #king elessar #aragorn elessar #tolkien meta #more accurately #half baked ramblings by a sleep deprived tolkien fan

[tilions]

Ninquelótë || Princess of Gondor

@tolkienocweek day seven - freeform

The second daughter of Aragorn Elessar and Queen Arwen Undómiel, named after Queen Nimloth of Doriath.

Out of all her siblings she was the most elven-like in both looks and personality, always carrying herself with grace and beauty. She was a great lover of plants and spent most of her time in the royal gardens, tending to the vegetation. Apart from that she liked to paint, using her family and close friends as references - most of her pieces were displayed in the royal gallery after her death.

She never had a partner for she felt that romance was nothing for her, but she did take the orphaned children of her brother's late guard under her wing, raising them like her own. When she was in her late nineties Ninquelótë died in her sleep, as the second of her siblings after her elder sister Ataniel.

#oc ninquelótë #arwens daughters #tolkien #lotr #gondor #house telcontar #tolkienocweek #my edit #tolkienedit #lotredit

[tehri]

Okay but can we talk for a moment about Aragorn the In-Joke Master?

Aragorn Of Many Names?

Aragorn who, in a rare moment of “is he actually serious or is this a joke” mischief, decided that the royal line beginning with him would be named Telcontar?

Look. We all know of Aragorn’s nickname in Bree - Strider. The name given to him in a derogatory fashion, meant to just refer to that he’s always on the move and that he has very long legs. The name by which he is introduced to the hobbits.

But the reason for why he chose Telcontar, which is the Quenya translation of Strider?

Pippin.

Yes, Peregrin “Pippin” Took is the reason.

After the Battle of the Pelennor fields, Aragorn is convinced by Gandalf to enter Minas Tirith in secret, just as chieftain of the Rangers that had come from the North, in order to help heal Faramir and Éowyn and Merry.

When Pippin sees him, he greets him by calling him “Strider” again, as the hobbits are wont to do. Pippin greets him like this in front of Éomer, who just became King of Rohan, and in front of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, Faramir’s uncle. And Imrahil, because he has a sense of humour like that, comments to Éomer: “Is it thus that we speak to our kings? Yet maybe he will wear his crown in some other name!” (The Return of the King, chapter 8: The Houses of Healing)

And Aragorn. This absolute master of in-jokes. Turns to Imrahil and points out that he is already called both Elessar (Elfstone) and Envinyatar (”The Renewer”), and says: “But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that be ever established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body.” (The Return of the King, chapter 8: The Houses of Healing)

And while it should absolutely sound like a damn joke, he is deadly serious.

He names his royal house Strider. Because Pippin as usual gave 0 fucks about the kingship and the implications of Aragorn being in Minas Tirith and just called him by the old nickname and Aragorn found it funny.

I’m guessing the intent is to keep himself and his heirs humble, because being called by one man’s old derogatory nickname is a good way of reminding them of where they came from, I guess.

#tolkien legendarium #Lord of the Rings #Aragorn #High King Elessar Telcontar #HIGH KING ELF-STONE STRIDER OF THE HOUSE OF STRIDER #Peregrin Took #Pippin #Éomer #Imrahil #Prince Imrahil #this will never cease to amuse me

[seatonorth]

continue on names. The father of his blood named him Aragorn, the father of his heart named him Estel. And yet, he was known as the king Elessar, of the house of Telcontar. Both his real names had not been spoken of for many years.

#elrond #aragorn #aragorn elessar #house of Telcontar #estel

[tolkien-feels]

Would Aragorn still pick Telcontar as the name of his House if he hadn't been overcome by the sudden instinct to protecc defend Pippin?

#i'm sure he would #but it's funnier to imagine he wouldn't