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sotwk · 8 months

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Horses in the Woodland Realm

Historically, the Silvan Elves that dwelt in Greenwood the Great, prior to the coming of their Sindar rulers, had no desire or reason to keep horses. Horses were neither necessary nor practical for travel within their dense woodlands, and the Silvans did not journey frequently enough from their home territory to require them. As peaceful Elves, they also had all the stamina and time in the world to walk leisurely to their destinations.

Even with the arrival of the would-be King Oropher and his brethren, there were only a handful of Sindar who brought horses along with them, and continued the practice of riding as a means of transport, whether for recreation or warfare. In the Second Age, the most skilled of these horse-riders was the Crown Prince Thranduil.

Thranduil, the Great Rider

Thranduil grew up in Doriath among the Sindar, an environment where horse riding was not a very common practice.

It was not until he participated in the War of Wrath and trained as a soldier amongst the Vanyar and Noldor, did he learn to be around and ride horses.

(Note: Thranduil's participation in this war is a controversial headcanon and a massive deal that doesn't get addressed enough. It needs its own separate, in-depth discussion--or two or three!)

For his valor during the war, Thranduil was gifted by his commanders with the orphaned horse he rode during the later battles, a great stallion that originated from Valinor, carried across the sea with the Host of the West. He named the horse Raindal, meaning "wandering feet".

As a creature of Valinor, Raindal was blessed with extraordinarily long life and vigor, similar to that of Elves. The steed accompanied Thranduil throughout his widespread travels and adventures early in the Second Age, and carried him to Greenwood when Oropher and his kin migrated out of Lindon in c. SA 750.

Thranduil commanded the forces that cleansed Greenwood from the encroachment of orcs and evil creatures that had survived the Great War (see related HCs here).

He made such a fearsome, terrible vision in hunting down the foul beasts, astride his great horse, that the Silvan Elves thought he might have been Oromë himself coming to their aid.

During the Second Age, many Greenwood Elves referred to their new Prince reverently as "The Great Rider".

Sadly, Thranduil's 1,700-year friendship with Raindal came to an end when the great horse perished during the Sack of Eregion, a battle in which Thranduil fought to rescue the elleth he loved, Lady Maereth. Later on, opponents of his betrothal to Maereth claimed it was an ill-foreboding sign that he should not marry her.

Despite mating with countless different mares over the centuries, Raindal never successfully sired offspring.

After the loss of Raindal, Thranduil never kept or claimed another horse of his own. For the rest of the Second Age, he rode only in certain times of need, and never using the same animal.

Thranduil only found a replacement for Raindal when he discovered the first of his elks, a one-of-a-kind species never before seen in Rhovanion or perhaps all of Middle-earth. He named the elk Alvar, meaning "good fortune", considering the creature a gift from the Valar themselves.

Henceforth that particular breed of elk became known as the "King's Elk", and was bred and raised exclusively to be the mount of the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm.

(Note: A detailed history of Thranduil and his elk, and the characteristics of the "King's Elk" will be discussed in future headcanons, since it is also a lengthy topic!)

The finding of Alvar factored heavily into Thranduil's decision to join the Last Alliance of Elves and Men (which then pushed Oropher to ride into war), and was instrumental in his survival of the bloody battles.

Alvar lived up until TA 318 to an estimated age of about 400 years old. The great steed was replaced by his offspring sired with a native Greenwood elk, a crossbreeding effort overseen by Thranduil's young son, Prince Gelir. (referenced in the fanfic "Greenleaf's Day Out")

Mirkwood's Ties with the Rohirrim Ancestors

Very early in the Third Age, horses were bred and kept by the Greenwood Elves in small numbers, for the main purpose of travel outside of the Woodland Realm to other kingdoms.

Because most Silvans seldom ventured beyond Woodland territory, such travel was primarily done by the Royal Family and their retinue.

However, the Greenwood breeds at that time, which descended from native wild horses in the eastern plains of Rhovanion, struggled to meet the rigorous work often required by Thranduil and his elder sons.

Greenwood horses were smaller, gentler, and not physically built for warfare, charging, or enduring over long distances.

Thranduil and his elder sons, Crown Prince Mirion and Prince Tuhrir, were all over seven feet tall, and the princes inherited the heavy warrior builds of their Noldorin ancestors from the First Age. As they grew older and stronger and heavier, it became very difficult to find horses that could match the level of physicality their activities required.

The Woodland Elves had friendly relations with the Northmen who occupied the Vales of Anduin in scattered tribes.

One nomadic tribe in particular, who called themselves the Lôthéod, had old traditions of taming and breeding wild horses all across Rhovanion.

When they learned about the Woodland Princes' unique predicament, they came forward and offered knowledge about an "untamable" herd of "giant" wild horses they came across in their travels down the northern Wilderland.

The Lôthéod believed their lack of success in capturing this wild horse breed was because they descended from horses of the High Elves from the First Age, and therefore could only be mastered by those with High Elf (Calaquendi) blood.

Young Prince Turhir (less than 90 years old at the time) received permission from his father the Elvenking to accompany the Lôthéod to the northern lands and seek out these special horses.

After several years, around TA 120, the Lôthéod--with the help of Turhir--succeeded in capturing and taming the first of the northern wild horses, which were given the name, "Arroch" (noble horse).

With the Lôthéod's guidance, the Woodland Elves succeeded in bringing the Arrochs to their lands and bred them in very small numbers for over two millennia.

From that time on, Turhir had a special affinity for the Northmen horse lords, a friendship that continued for centuries to their descendants, the Éothéod, and finally the Rohirrim.

SotWK Fancast: Sam Heughan (Outlander) as Prince Turhir Thranduilion

The Arrochs: Horses of Princes

Similar to the Mearas, the Arrochs were extremely selective about whom they permitted to ride them. Presumably, only Elves with Calaquendi blood (which the Mirkwood Princes had through their mother) could safely ride an Arroch.

Although Arrochs were owned almost exclusively by the Sons of Thranduil, there were no laws restricting the use or ownership of Arrochs to Elven nobility. However, it was extremely risky to attempt to mount one without "permission", as these great horses were notorious for seriously injuring or even killing riders they rejected.

Their accepted origin story is that Arrochs descended from Valinoran horses of the Great War, similar to Thranduil's old horse Raindal but interbred with Middle-earth horses.

They were long-lived, but not immortal. Their lifespan averaged about two hundred years. Although more durable (in flesh and will) than most horses, they could be slain by standard weapons.

Arrochs were highly intelligent, and could be trained to understand commands in different languages.

They were extraordinarily brave in battle and did not scare or bolt even in the face of terrible monsters. They were fiercely loyal to their masters, willing to give their lives rather than preserve themselves.

They had high endurance levels, and could sustain a hard gallop for hours without need for rest, even when bearing heavy or multiple riders.

They could be ridden without saddle or reins, but the Princes usually outfitted them with tack for the safety of others who assisted in handling and caring for them (such as stable hands or soldiers).

What differentiated the Arrochs most from the Mearas was their enormous size. On average, they stood 7 feet tall at the withers and weighed at least 2,000 pounds.

SotWK Fancast: Henry Cavill (The Witcher) as Crown Prince Mirion

Mirkwood Horses in the Third Age Onward

The Arrochs thrived as a breed in the Woodland Realm from TA 120 to about TA 2600, enduring even when the Elvenking's lands grew increasingly infested by the darkness of Dol Guldur.

However, with the succeeding losses of the three eldest Princes--Mirion, Arvellas, and most especially Turhir, the Arrochs gradually stopped breeding.

Turhir's final horse was the last known Arroch to survive. After its death, the breed seemingly became extinct despite the best efforts of Prince Gelir to preserve their line.

By TA 2600, only the native Greenwood horses remained to serve what was left of the royal family and the realm's limited mounted cavalry.

By the time of the War of the Ring, the Arrochs (like many things in the Woodland Realm's long history) were thought by most people in Middle-earth to be merely a myth.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heranintomyknife23times @heilith @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @konartiste @g-m-kaye

Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist

My Fanfiction Masterlist

#sotwk headcanon #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #the elvenking #the hobbit #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien headcanons #horses #mearas #rohan #rohirrim

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aemiron-main · 1 year

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YOOOOOOO WAIT ALL OF THE VOLCANO IMAGERY LIKE THE SCIENCE PROJECT BEHIND MIKE AND WILL IN THAT ONE PICTURE AND THE VOLCANO PIC IN THIS SHOT?? I am staring DIRECTLY at Mount Doom from LOTR (also a volcano). there’s so many LOTR parallels and will’s birthday/March 22nd is literally the exact day that frodo and Sam started going towards Mount Doom.

much to think abt. Idk how it all fits together yet but. hmmmmmmm. we also After seeing this volcano get the scene of dustin and lucas mentioning Mirkwood… and Mirkwood was cleansed and returned to greenwood after Sauron’s death/the destruction of the ring/frodo and Sam at Mount Doom

#stranger things #byler #st LOTR #st analysis #st5 #st set design

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moose-a-licious · 1 month

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Mount Shasta- April 2022

“DJ(JD?) was hung today. He was a good boy.”

The first time I read that line was on the first trip I brought Erin up to spend time alone with my grandparents. On the bottom shelf of the bedside table in the room we slept in, that’s where the book was.

That’s my grandma’s aunt’s journal she kept on their homestead. Both my grandma and grandpa grew up there. I can’t remember if his name was DJ or JD -I should have written it down- he was my grandma’s cousin. Johnson was his last name, that is my grandmother’s maiden name too.

It was the books we bought on this trip together that I think helped me solve who he was.

It was another fire that brought us to where we live today. A literal fire. The 2021 Greenwood fire. The lake we live on now is a seaport, the lodge needed people to help feed the firefighters they were housing. They were still open and operating as well. I served in the restaurant, we saved up enough to take our first vacation alone together.

I wanted to see the ocean. I’ve never seen it before. We were going on a road trip to California. First stop would be Omaha to see family, and Jimmy/his girlfriend. We rented a car and drove the first 13 hours.

This squirrel didn’t want Erin’s trash in the can.

In Iowa we drove next to a tornado. The winds at the rest stop were so strong they tore the flag.

We spent the night at Jimmy’s and his now fiancé’s place our first night. Jimmy constantly brings up how embarrassed he is of their dog, Lemon, and how she treated me when we finally met in person for the first time. Just stared at me and made grumbling chirps. Single barked, and left uninterested. Sour. She warmed up, you just have to be patient.

The four of us shared food, went to the zoo, then parted ways. Erin and I went to my parent’s house. My brother and his wife came too. We all looked together at some pictures my dad put on a flash drive for me to take with.

One of those was of the golden orb weaver that would visit us at our garden year after year, I was thrilled. Vibrating. I didn’t even ask him to do this, and it was one of the few “photos of a photo” that he put on that flash drive.

My dad taught me about leaving bread crumbs.

He loves symbolism. He also has to process and communicate differently than when I was a child, has for almost two decades now. There’s nothing wrong with that.

My dad taught me to catch grasshoppers, and give them to the orb weavers. The grasshoppers were eating our vegetables. It was such a rush pouncing on them, and fascinating to watch the orb weavers spin around and around.

Spiders spin their webs with intent. They are traps for fuel. Some people are scared of spiders, but they are good omens. Blood drinking insects, vegetation eating insects, things that steal from humans… all can fall into an orb weaver’s trap.

What was my dad telling me. Was he wanting me to become the orb weaver? Evolve and spin my dreams and webs to help people? Trap the bugs myself?

It doesn’t feel right.

Did he want me to find an orb weaver? Offer them grasshoppers that would in some weird way, help humanity? Protect the gardens.

My mom’s voice is warning me. The first nightmare I ever had was when I was around four or five. In real life, she caught me in the garden feeding the orb weavers. Panic and scolding.

“What are you doing?! Spiders are venomous, if you get bit you will die.”

She didn’t give me time to explain. Dad taught me how to identify an orb weaver versus a black widow by their bodies, legs, and webs. I knew what not to feed.

We went inside and washed my hands. That night I had my first nightmare, a giant tarantula the size of a t-rex was crushing all the trailers in the park. I was so afraid, when I woke up I felt silly though. Tarantulas can’t get that big, can they?

I have to find the right type of spider. I don’t know how to find my orb weavers, my dad’s mind changed before we could graduate from identifying spiders to people.

Pt. 1/6

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anemoxlys · 2 years

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Part 2

Part 1:

Warnings: character death, swearing/bad language (Gimli) insecure reader

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“He has never loved me, I left a long time ago.” You murmured regretfully before a smile appeared back into your face as you saw a party of dwarves walking your way. “Ada, who are they?” You asked softly, turning to face your father Elrond. “That my daughter is Gimli.” He answered, a smile also gracing his face. “Y/N.” A less welcoming voice spoke from behind you, causing your blood to run cold. “Legolas.” You returned, refusing to turn and look at the elf. “I must be off father, Arwen is looking for me.” You mutter before hastily walking away from the group.

“I choose a mortal life.” You heard your sister murmur, her hand in Aragon’s.

You were happy for her, truly. Just you recalled the same look of love and admiration on your face once as you stared at Thranduil as he too once held you in his arms. A single tear slipped down your cheek before you turned and walked away. Soon the single year was met with plenty more as you began to silently sob, walking towards the gardens you had slowly grown to love.

“My lady!” You heard your handmaiden call from below you. “Yes Almir?” You called back, wiping your eyes as you gracefully climbed down the tree. “Your father is searching for you ma'am. He wishes for you to join him during the meeting.” She explained, her eyes scanning your tear stained cheeks with a look of slight concern. Nodding slightly you quickly made your way towards your father’s balcony.

You heard faint voices coming from the balcony as you stepped into the daylight but all you could see was Legolas staring at you. Staring at the ground, you made your way slowly over to where your father sat. “Apologies for the delay father, Almir took a while to find me and I was not aware of a council meeting.” You muttered before moving to stand beside his seat. “Who’s this lovely lass?” You heard the dwarf exclaim, drawing most of the council’s attention to yourself. “This is my daughter Y/N of Rivendell.” Elrond stated before the human continued his lengthy speech.

You grew ever more cautious as the human drew closer and closer to the ring sat in the middle of the table until his fingertips nearly grazed the top and Gandalf began to speak in a foreign tongue. Glancing at your father, you saw him sigh slightly and place a hand over his temples. That was when the headache started, wincing slightly you felt your head begin to spin. Stumbling slightly, you felt a hand touch your arm, looking over you saw Thranduil. A tear escaped your eye before you murmured something and walked away only to be stopped by your father stepping in your path. “I saw him. He was here!” You whisper, your hands trembling slightly as you spoke. “It was just in your head onya, he can never hurt you again.” Elrond murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both stepped back into the circle of the council.

A short speech later and you had not entirely accidentally signed yourself up to join the, newly named and formed, fellowship of the ring.

“The ring bearer is setting out on his quest for mount doom.” You heard your father announce before he turned to you. “Take care my darling child. Return to me.” He murmured, his forehead pressing against your own as you said your goodbyes. A single glance to your sister was all you managed before you were made to leave your home once more.

Smiling sadly you watched Merry and Pippin fight with the human you now knew as Boromir. “I do miss GreenWood at times like this.” You whispered to yourself before you were unwelcomely interrupted by Legolas, “we do not wish for whores to miss or return our lands.” He hissed as you once again looked at the ground in shame. “Why do you let him say such things?” You heard Aragorn’s voice ask as he came to sit beside you. “I do not wish to cause him any more pain, nor his father whom I have and will continue to love until the end of my days.” You sighed mournfully. “And why have you not told him of this?” He continued to ask. “I do not know, why do you continue to love my sister even though my father doesn’t accept it?” You questioned, making the ranger fall silent. “Love is a meddlesome creature Aragorn, I am just happy you and Arwen have found each other and you are content being with her.” You finished, a small smile appearing on your lips, not quite reaching your eyes, as you calmly walked away.

However just as you found an isolated clearing, the sounds of screaming forced you to turn back. “Quickly duck!” You heard Gandalf bellow before you ran for shelter.

Under a Boulder is where you found temporary sanctuary from the ravens of Saruman, however much to your misfortune you lay beside Legolas and Aragorn who, although for reasons much closely related to hatred, his eyes fixed on you.

“Valar please…” you began to pray, your gaze fixed on a pouch around your waist. “And what’s in that!” Legolas once again sighed angrily. When no response left your lips he hastily reached for it and, after grabbing it from your waist, immediately opened it and stared at its contents. “Letters?” He questioned before opening one of them. “This is my father’s writing. Why have you kept them?” He questioned, his voice raiding in volume as he grew more and more frustrated. “My friend, I believe you know why.” You heard Aragorn mutter as he came to stand beside Legolas. “But you…” he began before you looked up at him, “I would never. Could never, I have loved your father for years since my leaving and I will continue to do so no matter how it pains me to do so.” You murmured sadly. “But… the witness, the rumours. They saw you!” He exclaimed. “On that day I spent it in the gardens with Tauriel. I never left the palace.” You spoke, surprisingly calmly. “My lady…” Legolas murmured before he fell silent briefly, “I vow you will survive and I will make this right.” He uttered, his eyes glowing with determination. “I have no worries concerning that Legolas, I only wish your father shared the sentiment.” “I believe he still does mellen.” Came the reply. “Then I too vow that you will return safely to your father, I would hate it for you to never return.” You agreed, your hands moving to cup Legolas’s face as you brought your foreheads together.

Moria had been hard for you all. The loss of Gandalf had hit very close to home for everyone of you. Reaching shakily into your pouch and bringing out a necklace. “Gandalf gave this to me many years ago. It was an engagement present.” You sadly laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “Come we must leave.” Aragorn muttered, reaching for your hand and squeezing it slightly as you both began to walk onwards.

“Welcome Legolas son of Thranduil and Y/N daughter of Elrond, we welcome you.” You heard a strange voice murmur as arrows appeared from the bushes, all pointed at you. Choosing to remain beside Gimli as you spoke with the man in charge, you could hear the mutters and whispers of the fellow soldiers. Most were talking about the ‘evil’ they sensed with the young hobbit Frodo but naturally there was some who chose to speak of you and Legolas. They spoke, unfortunately, loudest.

“Lady Y/N.” You heard Galadriel’s voice speak to you, her voice echoing inside your head. “You are filled with such despair and sadness. It pains me to see an old friend in such agony.” She continued as she stepped out from the shadows. “My lady.” You greeted, Boeing slightly as she smiled in return. “Me lady!” You heard Gimli’s greeting as the echos of the remainders of your party copied.

Night had long since fallen but sleep did not chase after you. Seeing Galadriel walk past you stood and walked down the stairs beside her in silence. “Do you wish to see him mellen?” She asked, her voice gently breaking the silence. You simply nodded in reply and hesitantly gazed into the bowl.

Staring into the pool, you saw memories of your past love, days spent laughing in the markets of GreenWood and hours spent in pleasant silence, disturbed only by the murmurs of affection from either one of you. Then you saw an unfamiliar memory, Thranduil sat in his throne a friend gracing his still perfect features. Legolas soon walks in and speaks something so quietly you cannot hear what is being said. The expression of your lover says it all as his eyes widen in pleasant surprise as you saw someone walk through the doors towards him. All goes black as the vision comes to a sharp halt. “He is in love with another.” You quietly murmur. “Mellen…” Galadriel sighed empathetically as she brought you in for a tight hug, “all will end well for you I am certain of it.” She whispers into your cheek as she presses a soft kiss to your skin. Tears began to freely fall down your cheeks as you quietly sobbed into her arms.

Current word count: 1808

Thank you for reading please leave any questions, tips or advice in the comments have a great day/night

He’s actually so stunning

Lee Pace>>>

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masons-tours · 1 day

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/masons-tours/748744552168521728/httpswwwtumblrcommasons-tours748743550701846

Why would she keep comments like that up on purpose? They comments you’re referring to are hating on mason. Saying she’s too good and pretty for him? Like why would she deliberately be keeping those up? 🤣

It’s 2 comments out of 100 saying that and they are harmless.

She did delete the ones calling him a R***ist (because people don’t k is the difference between Mount and Greenwood) are you gonna be mad at her for that.

#anon

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dewitty1 · 1 month

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https://apnews.com/article/trump-god-bless-usa-bible-greenwood-2713fda3efdfa297d0f024efb1ca3003

Former President Donald Trump is now selling Bibles as he runs to return to the White House.

Trump, who became the presumptive Republican nominee earlier this month, released a video on his Truth Social platform on Tuesday urging his supporters to buy the “God Bless the USA Bible," which is inspired by country singer Lee Greenwood's patriotic ballad. Trump takes the stage to the song at each of his rallies and has appeared with Greenwood at events.

“Happy Holy Week! Let’s Make America Pray Again. As we lead into Good Friday and Easter, I encourage you to get a copy of the God Bless the USA Bible,” Trump wrote, directing his supporters to a website selling the book for $59.99.

#Trump #Lee greenwood #God blees the usa #The bible #USA politics #Republicans #Fuck chump #I hate this fucking song too

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ceescedasticity · 1 year

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Unforsaken, 8a

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Elrohir and Celeborn make good time across the mountains and down the river (with a short pause to speak to the Beornings), and arrive at the head of the rapids a few days before the first of the boats.

Suitable light barges are, it turns out, in use on the lower Anduin's tributaries, and Arwen was able to procure some without difficulty. Transporting them was more of an issue, because they had to be taken out of the river and hauled overland, steeply uphill, to get past Rauros and the rapids.

But it's not undoable, and Arwen judged it to be a simpler matter than sending bargewrights up past (by Gondorian standards) the edge of civilization and finding adequate timber with no nearer forest than Fangorn, or else sending the bargewrights up far beyond (by Gondorian standards) the edge of civilization to build barges next Mirkwood, then bring the barges down, and… Yeah.

******

Turgon — Bellow — goes to Mount Gundabad.

He's not completely sure what to expect. There was no one in Gundabad willing to stand up to Celegorm — Reckless — at all. But even in low-pressure conditions you rarely get more than a dozen or two goblins without some sort of pecking order being worked out, and 'gone to ground in Gundabad after the Dark Lord is killed, advantages against enemies decreased and decreasing more' is not a low-pressure situation. There will probably be someone nominally in change; it will probably be someone Bellow can deal with without too much difficulty, but he will have to deal with them.

(It's not that he thinks Reckless was wrong; Reckless was possibly drastically oversimplifying because he has never bothered to pay any attention to orc politics, such as they are, and is strong enough to get away with it. Bellow would not be at all surprised to find Whiterot doesn't pay attention either.)

As it turns out, a few years ago approaching Gundabad would have been much more complicated, because Slayer and Demon had been running the place — also relatively independent orc-bosses, without the Great Goblin's civic leadership and city-building but very compelling leaders. Slayer and Demon had a certain amount of respect for the Great Goblin, but they would not have cooperated. It would have been necessary to outmaneuver or, more likely, kill them, which then would have caused other problems.

(Bellow doesn't know who Slayer and Demon were in their first lives. Possibly Sindar, considering their hatred of dwarves, but probably Avari of some description, given their relatively recent appearance. Better friends to each other than most orcs managed.)

(Bellow knows Slayer did some unnecessary grandstanding when defending his claim to Moria, and so presumably the dwarves don't like him any more than he likes them. He does not know that 'Azog' and 'Bolg' are known names — or that they are known as father and son. They are not. …Probably.)

But! A couple years ago, Demon started agitating to attack the Lonely Mountain, or the Greenwood, or Rivendell, or the Vales of Anduin, or someone. Slayer was reportedly working on a plan before an alliance of a dozen or so other orcs ambushed and killed both of them on the grounds that if they'd wanted to get killed fighting they wouldn't have come this far north. Then those orcs were set on by Slayer and Demon's surviving partisans. Things continued on like that for another six months or so, until the death toll was in the dozens and the remaining orcs settled into a sullen ceasefire with no one leader.

So, actually, Reckless was pretty much correct, and Bellow can just walk in and be heard. (Fortunately he hadn't mentioned any doubts to Reckless, so he should be able to avert any gloating.)

Bellow speaks to the goblins in Gundabad, and he tells the truth.

There are elves searching for Ghâsh-bagronk, in order to destroy it, and Bellow believes they will be able to.

Bellow and some others are working with the elves, even, because this is important.

Most orcs don't need to be convinced that it's desirable to destroy Ghâsh-bagronk. Even with no idea what would happen in its absence — being a restless spirit forever is clearly preferable to Ghâsh-bagronk.

Some are suspicious of the elves' motives, though — why do they care?

Bellow tells the truth again: The elves are sure some of the spirits imprisoned there used to be elves. And you know how elves help each other.

Enough to work with orcs?

Yes, and they're not going to regret that decision, because destroying Ghâsh-bagronk is more than worth working with elves, and if anyone jeopardizes that Bellow will give them something to regret.

There's not unanimous agreement, and the situation should be checked again when the party is about to pass by, but by and large the orcs currently of Gundabad agree that even a potential end to Ghâsh-bagronk is worth not being territorial for a little while.

#orc bank unforsaken #orc bank #a tolkien tag

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laneynoir · 11 months

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Happy (very late) mothers day @sotwk

Complete.

So... Timelines. They're gone. I set this some where after your fic where Maereth's hurt.

Tw: bad poetry (more like a sketchy rhyme), that for the sake of the plot I'm pretending is adequate.

"Swift step would be advised, oh prince. We have hardly enough time as it is to reach the woods."

Gelir shifts the large obsidian pot in his arms, shooting a glare nearly as sharp as the arrows he carries. "I would remind you oh peasant, that we would have returned home nearly four days hence, had we our mounts."

Darthol swaquks indignantly, "I had no choice but to send the animals away, they were not trained for battle and would have served only as dinner for those orcs in the end. I do wish that I knew they reached safety."

Bright green eyes softening to his year mate's clear concern, the fourth prince of Greenwood the Great quirks a smile. "I'm sure the mares are in good health, and I am glad that you sent them away, if only for the excuse to avoid my eldest brother; he does get so... Finicky about things he takes as his duty."

"Far be it from myself to critique one of our illustrious royalty-"

Here does Gelir let loose a scoffing audible noise of pure disbelief, a sound that would be sure to send his father's youngest advisor into a lecture on manners.

"-yet even I, as a mere peasant know of the steady sense of honour that the crown prince carries. Say, would you like a hand with that?"

He is of course reffering to the potted plant secured in Gelir's arms, though he could only reach two thirds the way around the sparkling black of the stone. "No," he sighs in answer, "I feel I must be the one to carry it. Only, I do not understand why the dwarrow must make everything so... Large."

"Compensating." Darthol supplies, startling a laugh from his companion.

"I have a cousin on mother's side who would be quick to disagree, somthing to do with the size of a dwarve's nose." The cajoling tone is one infrequently heard, and usually only in the presence of his family or yearmate.

Removing his eyes from the road and horizen, the cornhaired elf aprsises the container. "You must admit, it is very pretty. Though I still do not ubderstand why those of Kazad Dúm would craft it of obsidian and not somthing sturdier. One tap is hardly less than it would take to shatter so fragile a thing, regardless of the gold."

Gelir pauses over the questioning words for a moment. "I had though of that, I belive it comes from the friendly rivalry they and their elven neighbors share. With so delecate a plant, they wished to show that they too could provide something of such beauty that it need not protect itself." Here he pauses. "Or somthing of the ilk, Arvellas is a better source of such ponderings."

"And I am sure it has nothing to do with those glances the head of the guild was sending the lady Horiath?"

Gelir gives a highly unprincley snort. "Nay, do you mean that you suspect an attraction betwixt the two noblewomen? Where ever should you have taken such an idea?!"

Darthol grins in silent laughter, but he freezes just as quickly, causing the other to still as well. Both listen carefully, and it is no embelishment to say that the prince of Greenwood swears quite colorfully in three languages that he does not speak.

"Why does it have to be wargs? We couldn't just have some goblins or others of the ilk. It is of course necessary to have the ones with the best sense of smell and feet fleet as our own under normal circumstance." Though his ranting is mostly to bring a smile to Darthol's face, the unreasonably humongous dirt filled pot prevents Gelir from wielding any weapon, must less his bow.

He hears the singing of a bow before the yelp of the cursed creature falling. Though he has already guessed, he nods in return to the classification of the scout.

They make it forward to a pile of rocks before the remainder of the pack shows themselves, Gelir spending longer that he likes attenpting to find a safe place for the black pot (which he is begining to doubt the worth of, he should have just made a card, or breakfast, or anything else that a mother may apriciate).

There are not many of the foul animals, and most fall swiftly to arrows fletched with both red and gold. An orc rider carrying a bow of his own aims for Darthol, targeting the rear of his head.

Turning in time near to late, Gelir sees the arrow loose, watching as if time has slowed as the black iron dart flies through the air.

Gelir has never once in his life screamed. A fact which had worried the nurses at his birth, for when he was taken from the womb, covered in placenta and entierly sighlent, they had thought him dead. Bright eyes shining green, he had been quiet as a falling leaf. Maereth had ignored the strangled cry of one young healer, and demanded that her child be given to her. The moment the child had been olaced in her arms she cried out, "My child yet lives, and shall be my joy. As joy is no loud thing, but may be the stirrings in ones heart in the quiet beauty of the forests" so had Gelir earned his name.

And so has he lost in a moment even the thought of joy. A sounds ripped from his throat that sends a shock through Darthol

Bow prepared he has not time for prayer or though as he lets go the string.

The resounding crack as the arrow near folds into itself in contact with the orc weapon is painful to hear, yet their is no time for calibration. Only a swift wide eyed look from Darthol before the fight is resumed.

Not long after do they leave the piled carcasses boring and make way to the forest, breathing deeply in relief when the greenery is once again over their heads.

It would be dishonest to say that Gelir has never snuck out of the palace, and in doing so, snuck back in. It is however Eru's truth to say that he has never felt so utterly ridiculous, exhausted, dirty, and paranoid.

"I don't think it is going to- get down."

"Well we know that- OH"

Both duck under the flora surounding the gates and whatch as the king and queen stroll down the path, Maereth's voice flowing like a clear brook over the forest.

The two stare for a moment, before Thranduil turn back, and of all the impossibilitys winks at them.

Recovering from the shock, both Ellons stand and resume the trek into the palace, gaining not a few strange looks from various persons of differing status. Gelir did admit, if only to himself, that they did indeed make an odd picture. Having made the decision of discretion, Darthol was walking backward under and holding a sheet to cover the pot and plant.

Pot and plant being awkwardly large, this understandably obstructs the sightlines nearly so much for the peince as his year mateunder the sheet.

"Left now"

"Other left other left!"

"Ouch"

"Oh do shush"

When at last they arrive in the prince's preferred common area, both heave a sigh of relief that the plant is still sound in its dark soil. The relief is cut short by the gasping laughter of both the eldest and youngest Thranduilions.

"What-" a bout of laughter, "in Eru are you two doing?"

Gelir scowls, but it is Darthol who answers. "Just a bit of under the covers plant delivery from your humble subjects, my leige."

"Is that?" Legolas asks staring at the object of offense, sounding wonder struck.

Gelir's expression only softens slightly. "Indeed. Though after countless miles of carrying and caring for it no longer hold so much reverence for the thing."

A whistle sounds softly from the door on the west side of the room, and there stands Turhir, framed by the late afternoon sun and greenery of the courtyard. "If you wish to get rid of that, I shall gladly accept. I do not think I've 'ere seen such a plant, you are sure it's a growing plant?"

"Not on your blades brother, we've put far to much into this gift, Naneth will receive it from my own hand." He gives the brunette a dirty look. "Tis no fault of mine that you were quote: 'ocupied' when the opportunity arose."

"For the child named joy, you are the most dour of us all, Gelir."

Gelir sends a rather impolite gesture to Arvellas before nudging the pot to a corner of the room. "As you say oh wise one. I have been far to long wuthout the luxury of a bath, and mine arms are stuck in a circular position from this thing. I beg you not break the thing while I am away." That last of this is said very pointedly, much to the indignation of Legolas.

"It was one time!"

"Eyes closed my queen, you should not spoil the surprise."

Maereth smiles. "I do not seek to do such, and you know this, Ninniel. I am only excited, I have had no chance to see my second youngest since he has returned from his diplomatic mission, though why my love decided to send him, I hace no idea."

Ninniel sighs. "Not all of your children can be so blessed as ambassadors." She grins cheekily though the queen has no way of seeing it. "Leave the woodland and it's creatures to him I say, but if you search for a diplomatic and truthfully tounge, look to the eldest."

"Well as I know, Mellon nín. None of my children are yhe same, and I could not be more grateful for the fact. Now, are you going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"No, but they will." Ninniel removes tge covering from Maereth's eyes, opening the door to what she then recognizes as the princes' old play room, now tirned into a sitting room.

"Oh- oh my..."

Legolas wraps her in a hug. "Joyous Mother's Day, Nana!"

The area has been painstakingly decorated with shimmering fabrics and various displays of flora. Her five sons and husband stand before her, near a table with the largest cake Maereth has ever seen.

Thranduil pulls his wife gently from the arms of his youngest. "Suprised dear? The children have put much work forth in this endeavor."

She tightens her grip on his arm and speaks louder, so that the others hear as well. "I am indeed suprised. I expected nothing, but should have known that my lovely family would choose to celebrate a holiday of man."

"Come mother, we've presents!" And indeed they did, as maereth soon found.

"Turhir, how is it that I was unaware of your talent in the kitchen?" A valid question, as the towering confection is an utter work of art. At ten tiers, it is iced with as many colours as can be imagined, and there are sculptures made of differing edibles, raging from fondant to rock candy. "Not only do you seek the position as gaurd captain, but also to usurp our cook?"

Blushing brightly at the praise he grins ruefully, "The cook is safe mother, and I cannot claim all credit for this, Legolas helped much with the decorations."

Legolas nodds, "Though I did also make you this Nana." He hands over a small wraped box.

Maereth gently removes the green silk from the outside, before sliding the lid through its grooves. She gasps in delight when the action causes two small birds to pop out and begin twirling around one another. When they still, she repeats the opening movement again, and sure enough they preform the dance again.

"Legolas, this is truly amazing, however did you manage such detail? And the spring system is ingenious, my son!" Legolas joins his brother in the Red Face Department. "Hannon Lee."

Next she receives Mirion's gift, a set of long daggers, crafted flawlessly from mithriel and green stone hard as diamond, but soft as jade. Pulling them from the sheaths, she delights all with a few practice twirls.

Gelir disappears for a moment, only to return with the object of his current distaste, though he sets it very gently before his mother. "I made this not with my own hand, but retrieved the plant from the settlement beside Kazad-Düm, and commissioned the planter from the dwarves." He fidgets uncharacteristically, and waits for the response.

Maereth kneeks before it, and traces the petals. "Is this truly living?" The flowers are in apearance that of a rose, but bloom in a rainbow of colour, all clear crystal and luminescent. The leaves are starlight silver, but for golden threads runing throughout."

"It is."

To hear one of the fair folk laugh is a privilege, musical at its crudest, and at its best, as Queen Maereth's always was, it is remnicant of the song with which the world was sung from. "I should never have belived that you were truly sent on a diplomatic mission. But tell me, are the two ladies courting yet, or still dodging eachother with banter?"

Without expecting an answrr she pulls Gelir into a hug, which he imeadiatly recuperates. Much to Legolas' faux indignation. "Oh sure, when mother wishes a hug it's fine. But I try to claim one and you're all 'mkve your hands or I'll feed them to the wolves'"

At last Arvelass hands her a rolled parchment, tied with gold string. Upon unrolling, she is met with the most beautiful example of Caligrafy she has ever seen, and the words which read:

A mother like an oak tree,

Standing tall, and strong.

Giving to us, life for free,

Gently correcting when we are wrong.

As an acorn must tumble,

Taking it's own life in the ground.

She assists when we do stumble,

With her we are safe and sound.

Beneath the branching shade,

Kept from scorching sun.

Protection she has bade,

For children, every one.

Through the ground roots do twist,

Entwing in our life.

Connected and gentle as the mist,

Our blessed kings wife.

Indeed she gives home to many,

Kingdom's branches welcome all.

She is wise, fair, and canny,

Under her rule, we'll never fall.

In her moments of sickness,

To our best we do guard.

No matter the opponent's quickness,

We strive to protect from every shard.

In storms of wind, heat, water, and snow

She stands ever in grace and power.

Under her she watches grow,

From fern to moss, to flower.

By the end her eyes are damp, and Maereth is glad to lean her head against the chest of her husband. When the brothers move to claim extra cake she smiles up at Thranduil. "What? No gift from my beloved?"

Thranduil's chest move in faint laughter before he leans down to whisper in her ear, "You shall claim your gift later Meleth, patience."

"Flirt"

"Yours"

Maereth watches with the loving eyes that only a mother can manage as Legolas topples from a table into Arvelass, smearing cake into the dusting of hair on his chin. And who truly can begrudge her the belief that she truly is the most blessed of all Eru's children.

#my fic #thranduil #nanatg

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