#there are just criticisms made of Lothlórien

[tamurilofrivendell]

Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno​​, @achromaticerebus​​, @coopsgirl​​, @birbixo0912​​, @desert-fern​​, @ancient-rime​​, @lady-of-imladris​​​, @weepingdreammarvel​​​, @asianbutnotjapanese​​​, @deadlymistletoe​​​

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

"What is?" You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Thranduil looked up and met your gaze. "The guards you have picked." He gestured to the paper in his hands as if it should be obvious. "They are not of a high enough level to guard the Queen." 

“Oh.” You gave him a quizzical look, tilting your head. You weren’t entirely sure about levels and the like. Nobody had said anything yesterday. Nobody had even really told you much at all, in all honesty, you had been sort of left to fend for yourself. “I... didn’t know anything about that. I just had to watch them fight and pick, you said. They appeared good enough for me. I think they would do just fine.”

The Elvenking blinked at you for a moment, his thoughts more critical than he would have liked. If you had not been sure, why had you not asked? Deep down, he knew that you could not possibly have known to ask because he had not told you that you could, or should. He’d told you to pick your own guards and then left you in the training grounds to attend a council meeting. However, Thranduil had simply assumed you would have asked for help or clarification if you had needed it. And clearly you had if this list was anything to go by. As it was, you had not wanted to cause a fuss, or look foolish, or add more work to the king’s heavy load. The soldiers showing off their skills had seemed capable enough and that had been all you’d thought you needed to look for. Besides, how would you know anything about their levels? You still did not yet know everybody here.

Thranduil’s silence was uncomfortable but then he simply tsk'd and lowered his gaze again. He shrugged, almost to himself, but he did not sign off on the document. He simply scored something out before setting it to one side to go back to later. He would pick, he decided. If he let you choose low levelled guards, how would they protect you?

She would have chosen better, he thought, though it was there and gone again so quickly that he did not notice he’d thought it at all.

You eyed him for another long moment before you moved to leave the library, heading away down the corridor. He had been in a fairly strange mood all day and you supposed you should leave him to it. Not bad, exactly, just... distracted, perhaps.

Most likely he was still struggling a little with this entire situation and you couldn't really blame him for that because it was still so very strange for you too. To have wound up in an arranged marriage with the King of Mirkwood. You yourself were from Lothlórien, daughter of an important elf in the Lord and Lady's court.

While unexpected, you could see the positives in such an arrangement and, truthfully, you liked Thranduil. He had been kind to you, at least when you first met and agreed to this. However, now that you had actually moved here, it seemed a little like he had been taking offence to every single decision you made. He’d give you things to do and then seem unsatisfied with the way you had done them. It was frustrating but you could only assume he was stressed and that he would soon relax.

You went to sleep that night hopeful that tomorrow he would be in a better mood.

You found him in his study the following afternoon and felt relief when he looked up and smiled at you. "I hope you slept well. Are you prepared for the feast tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out to bid you closer.

"Mostly. I just have to decide what to wear." You told him, moving into the room and seating yourself beside him. “It is still between two dresses.”

He sat there looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher and it was almost as if he was studying something in your very soul. “Oh? You are not... set by now?” It seemed far too late to not have the entire outfit prepared.

You shrugged, always having been a bit more carefree and lazy in your decision making. You were a bit of a procrastinator and did not altogether mind if you left things to the last minute. Sometimes this was simply because you just... forgot. A far cry from the King beside you, of course. Also unbeknownst to you, a far cry from the Queen who had come before.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. His displeasure, however, radiated from him in waves in the silence that followed as he looked back down at the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Thranduil?"

"What?" He did not look up.

“Something troubles you.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt and you frowned at him, watching as he pretended to read whatever was on the desk but you could tell his mind was now elsewhere. You sighed and stood to leave the room. 

As you turned, Thranduil’s hand suddenly reached out and grasped your own. You turned to find him looking at you, a soft smile on his lips once more. “You will look beautiful whatever you wear.”

Returning his smile, you ducked your head to hide the blush you could feel about to spread over your cheeks, and quickly took your leave.

Thranduil watched you go and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He liked you, he always had, but you were not quite what he had expected when he had finally relented to the pushing of his court to take a new Queen.

He had obviously agreed you would be a good choice. Your station in Lothlórien, your family tree, put you in a very good position to knowing how things worked... yet not entirely, it seemed. Something was a little... off now that you were actually here in Mirkwood with him.

Oh, you were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. You made him laugh. He enjoyed your company. There was simply something niggling at him in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

The feast came quickly, too quickly for you as the time just flew past. You had gotten caught up doing something completely unrelated and frowned when a maid rushed in to find you. Her relief was palpable but you didn’t understand it until you realised the time and she had ushered you back to your room to get ready.

Thranduil was irritated. There had been a delay - nobody had been able to find you - and you were not ready for the feast. You were not here, and it took so long that he had to walk into the room alone and act as though nothing were amiss. He had promptly sat down and thrown back a rather large gulp of strong wine, irritated by the hold up.

When you entered the room - finally - you were a vision. He took in your hair, the ornamentation in it and around your neck, and the royal blue dress with pleased eyes that did much to allay his frustration.

Then, you went and tripped over the hem of the damned thing because you had not bothered to see that it had been properly fitted.

Luckily, you were close enough to the table at this point for him to grab you by the arm and keep you upright, but his irritation only grew at the scene that your little stumble had caused. The attention you caught was not the type he wished for, nor were the titters of laughter around the room.

She would never have left the fit of the dress to chance, nor would she have embarrassed him as such.

This time, Thranduil did catch the thought, but he quickly dismissed it as a simple stray musing that did not mean anything.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little tersely, as he refilled his glass of wine.

You nodded, hardly noticing his tone yet as you willed the embarrassed flush in your cheeks to go away. You felt like the entire room had seen that and you cursed yourself for not even thinking that the dress might need proper attention. It just had not occurred to you.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He grunted and you finally looked up at him and noticed the frustration he was trying to bury shining in his eyes. You frowned, feeling even worse. He could not be... angry at you? Could he?

After picking at the food on your plate and watching one dance (you dare not join in with your dress!), you rose and made your way from the table out of the room without a word. You were not in the mood now. Reaching up, you tore the circlet from your head as you walked down the hallway as quickly as you could.

“Where are you going?” Thranduil’s voice came from the door you had just exited and you realised that he had followed you out.

Turning, you eyed him cautiously for a moment, trying to ascertain his mood, but once more he was quite the mask. “I am tired, Thranduil. I am going to bed.”

He nodded, moving closer. His gaze dropped to the circlet in your hands. “You could not have waited until you were behind a closed door?”

“What does it matter?” You asked, shrugging at him.

Thranduil didn’t respond but his brow creased just the slightest bit. Did it matter? He began to walk down the hallway and you turned to walk with him since it seemed that he was heading in the same direction you were anyway. 

“Are you upset?” You ventured after a while, watching him come to a halt as your question reached his ears.

Thranduil blinked. Was he upset? He supposed that he was feeling frustrated. Annoyed. Angry, perhaps. Why? He turned his head to look at you, a soft frown of confusion on his face as he shrugged. “I suppose I am. A little.”

“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer right away because, truthfully, Thranduil could not fully put into words what his problem was. What had gotten him so riled up over something that, logically, he told himself did not truly matter. Thranduil shook his head. “I am not rightly sure.” He offered his arm then. “Come, I will escort you to your room.”

But you would not be shut down quite so easily, and you shook your head. “You must know what is wrong.” You insisted. “How can I help you if you do not tell me?”

Thranduil frowned at you, his frustration growing once more. “I do not need your help.” He stated firmly, moving his arm closer so you would take it, but you still did not take it.

“Well, you need something. You-”

“Stop. Please.” He snapped lightly, dropping his arm since it had become clear that you were not going to take it. He turned around and took a step away, not wishing to engage in this right now.

“Thranduil!” Was he truly going to just turn away and leave? In the middle of a conversation? You could not quite believe it. “Just tell me what is wrong! Tell me!”

“She would not behave thus!” He thundered as he spun back to face you, and then immediately fell silent. Horror seemed to fill him as he realised what he had just said.

You frowned softly back at him, shaking your head. “Who-” Your mouth snapped shut as you stared back at him, suddenly understanding with a sick sort of certainty.

She. Her. His deceased wife.

She would not behave in this manner. She would not behave how you were behaving. She would do things ‘the right’ way. She would do better.

You could not hide the hurt that bled across your face as the two of you stared back at each other in the long, deathly silence that followed. Thranduil seemed to be frozen, utterly stricken, but you did not see it past your own dismay. Then, you were gone. Turning and fleeing from him, away down the corridor towards your own rooms.

Thranduil did not see you for two days. 

He tried to seek you out that same night but he had not been able to find you and, so, retired to his chamber to wait until you were ready to talk. However, it seemed that you were not willing to talk at all as, two days later, he received word that you had been seen sneaking into the stables with a bag full of your things.

Had it not been for you carrying your own belongings, Thranduil might have dismissed it and told them to simply follow you from a safe distance to keep you safe. As it was, he was immediately up from his chair and out of the door before the guard who reported to him could blink.

He rushed to the stables, finding you still trying to attach a bag to your horse, clearly frustrated that you could not get it secure. The animal, too, seemed unamused with your attention - blowing air through its nostrils and scuffing its feet.

“Going somewhere?” He asked quietly from the doorway, causing you to jump because you had not even heard him arrive, too focused on your irritation.

You stared at him for a second and found that looking at him hurt. You did not respond, you just turned your attention back to the horse and continued fiddling with the bag but nothing would attach the damn thing to the animal so you eventually huffed in exasperation and let it drop to the floor of the stall.

A silence followed.

You could feel Thranduil’s eyes on you but you did not look up at him.

“I never meant to hurt you” Thranduil said softly after another moment and you could hear the regret in his voice but you still didn’t look up at him.

Instead, you shrugged. “But you did.”

“Yes.” He agreed quietly, sighing. “I did.”

Of course, you did not resent him thinking of his wife. How could you ever? She had been a good Queen and an even better wife from all that you had heard of her. You had never met her, not even on a trip she’d taken with the King long ago to Lothlórien. But you had heard a lot about her and she sounded amazing. She was the love of his life, the mother of his only son, and you truly had never expected to replace her but to have him compare you in such a way... it had hurt, you could not deny that.

You were so different, you understood that, but... you were two completely different people and it did not feel fair for Thranduil to hold you to this standard that you had not even realised you had to meet. Yes, you were to be a queen and yes, you had a lot still to learn especially about Mirkwood and its own politics... but you were trying. You really were! All you needed was his help, not criticism. How could he not see that?

“Please just talk to me.” He said, his voice full of obvious unhappiness. His eyes dropped to the bag on the ground. “Where are you going?”

You held in a sharp comeback about why you should be expected to talk to him when he did not wish to do the same two nights ago. At his question, your gaze turned to the bag and you sighed, shaking your head. You bent down to pick it back up and began once more attempting to fasten it securely to the horse. “Home.” You said.

Thranduil blinked. “This is home.”

You frowned and your head snapped up to look at him. “This is your home... and clearly I am not welcome in it.” You hated how your voice shook just a little. You wanted to sound brave and firm, not like a hurt little girl. “I am returning to Lothlórien. You can call off all the arrangements.”

Thranduil stared at you then, watching while you struggled with the bag, as the reality hit him. You were going home, you were... calling off the wedding?

His arm shot out and he took hold of the bag, wrenching it gently but firmly from your grip. You gave a sigh and lifted your eyes to his face. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? You shook your head at him, throwing your hands up in a defeated manner.

“Do not leave.” He said, his voice quieter than he would have liked. He was certain it shook a little... but you did not notice.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, scoffing a little as you shook your head again. “Why should I stay here, Thranduil? I did not come here because I have no other options, I came here because I... I like you and I trust you and...” You trailed off, lowering your gaze for a moment, one of your shoes (which were absolutely not suitable for riding a horse in the first place) kicking at the straw covered ground. “I will not... settle for a life where I am never good enough, where I am always second best. A life in the shadow of a memory. A beautiful memory, do not misunderstand, and one I would never want you to forget... but I am not her, Thranduil! I am not her and I never will be and I am sorry but... I cannot stay here, not like this.”

Another silence filled the stable. 

You looked away, at the horse, running your fingers through its mane. The animal was no longer in a mood now that you had stopped messing with the bag. You watched as it lazily chewed on some hay. Thranduil still had your bag in his hands, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap, his eyes on his hands. He felt ashamed and for a long moment he could not speak.

“You were never second place to me.” He whispered eventually, his eyes filling up with tears as he realised just what he had done. What he had made you feel. What he had made you think. “Never. You are not. I...” He faltered, grasping for the right words but he could not find them. “I know... what I said, what I have done, it was wrong. I cannot excuse myself, I do not even know why I...” He paused, frowning. 

You didn’t look up, though you could see him in your peripheral vision. He seemed to be struggling. He was not always good with words when it was not about politics or battle.

“I did not realise I was doing it at first,” he continued after gathering his thoughts once more. “There is no excuse and I do not say this to make one. I simply... she is the only queen to have ever graced my rule. I was thrust onto the throne so quickly... and I was grieving and she had to... truthfully, she had no choice but to take control of many things until I was more... present.” More in the moment after watching his father die, after that dreadful day, after suddenly becoming a king. “My mother died long before I even began to pay real, proper attention to anything... royal. I... my wife was the only queen I have ever known here, I remember how she did everything, I grew used to it. I forgot that you... do not know and I did not help you properly when I know that I should have. So I compared you to her and it was not fair of me. You did nothing wrong. I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He did not really expect forgiveness, he did not feel that he deserved it, he did not feel that he should receive it. To have hurt you... it pained him. “I love you.”

You turned your head from the horse to Thranduil’s face, the shock evident as you stared back at him for a few very long minutes. Had you heard that correctly? Did he... did he say...? 

Over this time, you had developed your own feelings towards the king. He was not perfect, though to outsiders he may look it, but that was probably part of why you’d fallen for him in the first place. You had not been able to help yourself. 

In the beginning, after he had approached you and your father with the idea from his council of an arranged marriage, it was not something either of you had rushed into. He had spent some time getting to know you better, for he did not wish to wed somebody he did not at least get along with. He’d been clear on that with his councillors and advisors. He’d written you letters after he returned to Mirkwood, he arranged visits for you to come and spend time with him. He showed up in Lórien once with no other reason than to offer you a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself, then he took you on a walk through the forest and the two of you just... talked. After all of that, it had been so easy. To say yes. To agree. Though you had known, you had known, that he would never love you. He cared for you enough, you knew that, but as a friend. He would never love you as he loved her. At least that’s what you had presumed.

“You...?” Was all you could say, still staring at him in absolute shock.

Thranduil nodded, the tears in his eyes that he’d managed to keep at bay finally beginning to spill down his cheeks as he blinked. He glanced down, embarrassed, lifting his thumb to his face and swiping away a tear. “Yes.” He whispered. “I... I should have said it before, I should have... shown it better. I am so sorry... but please.” He lifted his head again, his eyes wide as he looked at you quite desperately. “Stay. Please... do not leave me.”

You were staring at him, frozen for what felt like a long time, and Thranduil began to lose hope. You would leave and he would never see you again all because of his own stupidity. He knew you did not love him that way, that you had agreed to this as his friend, but he needed you to stay here, he could not bear to lose you.

When your voice finally came, it was but a whisper, and there were now tears in your own eyes to match Thranduil’s. “...I love you too.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to stare at you. He looked like he could not comprehend what had just come out of your mouth. He looked like he did not dare believe it. You stepped towards him, your hand dropping from the horse as you reached for the bag in his hands. He let you take it and you swung it up onto your shoulder out of the way, taking one of his hands in yours. You were still hurt but you could not believe this had happened... and maybe this was just something you both had needed to go through, to be able to get past it. Something his mind had needed to work through.

“I love you.” You said again, a little louder. You felt his hand squeeze yours and you lifted your free one to his face, wiping away his tears. He looked like he dared not even hope that what you had just said was true. 

“You do?” He asked then, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you while you wiped his tears away. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest as he looked back at you. He was not fully sure he had even entirely admitted to himself that he loved you until right now. He’d felt it, he’d been aware of how fond he was growing of you despite those other thoughts, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings - he had not felt such love in a thousand years.

You nodded, your anger fading away, leaving both your hurt and your love behind. “Yes... I do.” You confirmed, sighing as you took his other hand. You heard his breath catch in his throat and you gave him a sad little smile. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Thranduil said immediately, shaking his head firmly as he cut you off. “Do not. You have nothing to apologise for, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am the one who was in the wrong. You will make a good queen. I should have told you this... I should not have gotten upset over such trivial things. Dresses...” He scoffed at himself. “None of that matters.” He said, glancing down shamefully. “I do not want you to think that I... that I do not appreciate you for who you are or that I wish you to be somebody else... because I do not.” He shook his head. “I love who you are, I love everything about you. I am so sorry.”

You could practically feel your heart soaring to the heavens. You simply could not believe that Thranduil felt this way about you and, despite your hurt over his words, you were quite overjoyed. You finally smiled and Thranduil took a steadying breath before he moved. He leaned towards you, slowly so you could turn or pull away if you did not wish it, but you stayed perfectly still and waited for him to kiss you.

When he finally did, it was like electricity. It was like something you had been missing your whole life suddenly clicked into place and you removed your hands from his to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His own tentatively moved to hold you gently by the waist. When he broke the kiss and you opened your eyes again, you could tell by his expression that he truly felt the same, that he was floored by all of this, and you could see how deeply he regretted hurting you, making you feel inferior, second best.

“You will stay?” He asked then, still sounding a little uncertain, despite the fact you had kissed him and admitted you felt the same way. He was worried he might have ruined everything before he even got the chance.

You gazed up at him and you nodded. “Yes... I will stay. Of course I will.” 

There was still a sadness in your eyes that broke Thranduil’s heart to know that he was the one who put it there and he vowed to do everything in his power to make up for what he had done.

“I will never make you feel that way again.” Thranduil told you, his voice extremely firm, his gaze sharp but loving. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “I promise.”

You smiled and he kissed you once more before he took your hand, leading you from the stables and back into the palace, back to the future with you that he was more grateful than he could ever express to have not forever ruined.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

[deepspaceelf-writes]

[Haldir x Reader/OC] Mortal Heart

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45209101

Summary: A mortal Reader in Lothlórien wonders why Haldir, an elf, chose her over an elleth, but Haldir assures her that love is more important than lifespan or beauty.

Word Count: 743 POV: 3rd person Reader Info: She/her, unnamed (could also be read as an OC) Warnings: none

A/N: Still working on my "new" writing style, sorry if it's a little clunky. 😔

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was a beautiful day in Lothlórien. The sun’s rays danced between the leaves of the tall trees as birdsongs echoed through the treetops. Spring had come to Lothlórien, allowing its inhabitants to wear lighter garments. A gentle breeze carried the fragrance of blossoms as the elven warriors completed their training in a glade at the heart of the forest.

Haldir watched them with a critical eye, but his attention was drawn to the woman seated some distance away, mesmerized by their graceful fighting and especially Haldir's fluid movements. Though they had been together for some time, she was never tired of watching him.

Once the training was over, Haldir walked over to an elleth of his team to discuss something. His mortal lover watched, not jealous yet with a heavy kind of sadness in her chest. Though she knew Haldir's love was hers alone, in moments such as this she couldn't help but wonder why.

Why had Haldir chosen a mortal woman when he could have chosen an ageless elleth who would fit him to much better? They could offer him eternity and true understanding of his kind, whereas she had but fleeting years remaining.

Love, she reminded herself. Their bond was forged of love, not mere beauty or lifespan. Yet doubt lingered.

An elven woman could offer him far more than a human ever could. She, with her long lifespan, would possess far greater wisdom. She would truly understand what it means to live as an elf. Her beauty would far surpass that of any human woman.

So deep in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that Haldir had walked over to her. “Melleth,” his soothing voice broke her train of thought. “May I escort you to the dining hall?” He offered her his arm.

She looked at him, and the gentle smile on his face fell when he saw her sad expression. “Melleth-”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted him. “I’m sorry, but I’m not hungry at the moment. I think I should lie down a little.” With that, she turned around and left the training field without looking back.

“What was that?” Rumil asked his brother as they both watched her leaving form.

“I do not know, brother, but I will find out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As she walked back to their shared tallan, she tried to quell the doubts that had been plaguing her. She loved Haldir with all her heart, but sometimes, she couldn't help but feel like she paled in comparison to the other elves in Lothlórien. Their ageless beauty and wisdom made her feel small and insignificant.

Just as her head touched the pillow, and the tears started to burn behind her eyes, she heard the door to their shared tallan was opened. She quickly swallowed the lump in her throat and sat up. Not a moment later Haldir entered their bedroom. “Haldir, are you not hungry? You have trained for hours!”

He went to her side and took her hand. "You seem troubled, melleth. May I be of service?"

She shook her head with a wan smile. "It is nothing, my love. Merely idle thoughts of no import."

Haldir studied her face, reading hints of sorrow and insecurity that belied her words. He cupped her cheek in his hand. "Your thoughts are of import to me. Please, share your burden."

She sighed and leaned into his touch. "Forgive me. I cannot help but wonder at times why you chose a mortal woman when an elven maid could give you so much more."

"You have given me your heart, as I have given you mine," Haldir said gently. "Our bond is forged of love, not mere longevity or comeliness." He kissed her forehead. "Yet I perceive this doubt still lingers. How might I ease your mind, melleth?"

"I know you speak truth," she said, "but the thought still troubles me at times. I fear I cannot give you all you deserve."

"You need not," Haldir assured her. "You have given me a love more precious than the slow march of endless days. That is gift enough, and more than any elven maid could offer."

His gentle gaze and soothing words eased her troubled heart. She rested her head against his chest with a quiet sigh, though a hint of sorrow remained.

"Forgive me," she whispered into his chest. "I don't know why-"

"Hush," he soothed. "Do not ask forgiveness for your feelings. Even elves, perhaps especially elves, know emotions can deceive."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thanks for reading! ♥

#Tolkienverse #Haldir x Reader #haldir #haldir of lorien

[k-she-rambles]

'Please, Treebeard,' he said, 'could I ask you something? Why did Celeborn warn us against your forest? He told us not to risk getting entangled in it.'

'Hmm, did he now?' rumbled Treebeard. 'And I might have said much the same, if you had been going the other way. Do not risk getting entangled in the woods of Laurelindórenan! That is what the Elves used to call it, but now they make the name shorter: Lothlórien they call it. Perhaps they are right: maybe it is fading, not growing. Land of the Valley of Singing Gold, that was it, once upon a time. Now it is the Dreamflower. Ah well! But it is a queer place, and not for just anyone to venture in. I am surprised that you ever got out, but much more surprised that you ever got in: that has not happened to strangers for many a year. It is a queer land.

'And so is this. Folk have come to grief here. Aye, they have, to grief. Laurelindórenan lindelorendor malinornélion ornemalin,' he hummed to himself. 'They are falling rather behind the world in there, I guess,' he said. 'Neither this country, nor anything else outside the Golden Wood, is what it was when Celeborn was young.

…

'Some of my kin look just like trees now, and need something great to rouse them; and they speak only in whispers. But some of my trees are limb-lithe, and many can talk to me. Elves began it, of course, waking trees up and teaching them to speak and learning their tree-talk. They always wished to talk to everything, the old Elves did. But then the Great Darkness came, and they passed away over the Sea, or fled into far valleys, and hid themselves, and made songs about days that would never come again. Never again. Aye, aye, there was all one wood once upon a time from here to the Mountains of Lune, and this was just the East End.

Absolutely fascinating! Something something Fangorn is a forest that changes over time, while the power of critical mass of elves + ring prevents change…but not forever. The idea of making songs about and memorializing days that will never come again and not really moving on vs living the story, even though it is filled with grief

#I love treebeard so much #lotr newsletter

[elgaladwen]

Nimardril - Relationships

This is to go with Nimardril's bio, here.

Names with a ~ indicate a character played by someone other than myself

Living Family:

~Celebithil: Nimardril's uncle and father figure, who she went to live with once she left Lothlórien. Early or mid Second Age elf, previously a commander and soldier, now resides in Glaston, having taken over as the Armsmaster of Adshanzun after Nialwen left. He previously was very critical of humans, but has softened his stance in recent years.

~Gilithilon: Nimardril’s cousin, born early to mid third age, and was already an adult when she came to live with them in Rivendell. More stern than his younger brother, but also better with battle prowess, he helped Nimardril hone her weapon skills. She views him as an older brother. (@sewer-princess)

Meneladir: Nimardril’s cousin, born early to mid third age, and was already an adult when she came to live with them in Rivendell. More easy-going than his older brother and father, but still just as protective of her as they were, he helped her learn to read and write in Westron, and got her interested in reading, song, and dance.

All three were very protective of her during her time in Rivendell, and still are, sometimes to a degree that annoys Nimardril, but she is glad for their love and support.

Present:

~Eruingil: One of the first people she met after arriving in Glaston, and Nimardril considers her one of her best friends, even if she doesn’t see her as much since leaving Glaston. They both went through many ordeals during the journey with Adshanzun to Rohan and back. Nimardril also likes and respects Eruingil’s father from the time spent traveling with him and others. (@simbilmyne)

~Daerhovan: Nimardril's current traveling companion, quickly becoming a good friend as well. He's helped her a lot with moving past her divorce and exploring the world again, and she views him almost as an ideal of hope, since he's helped her to enjoy life again. She also is harboring a small, but growing crush on him that she worries is more of a rebound on her part, but hasn't yet truly tried to stomp down. Perhaps that will change once she finds out that he's married.(@loremastering)

~Verya: Daerhovan's lynx companion. Nimardril was uneasy around her at first, since she often hunts wild animals, but after realizing that Verya herself is a hunter, and sharing jerky and ham with her, Verya seems to like Nimardril well enough to not make her wary. Verya also helped keep her less furry companions warm in the mountains, and now reminds Nimardril a bit of her cats at home. (@loremastering)

~Benigaris: A man Nimardril knows from Glaston, and now considers a friend. She was wary of him at first, due to being warned away from him by Eruvion, and finding out about his reputation as a skirt-chaser, but she found him to be honorable and a good friend the more she spoke with him. He was also, in her mind, the only one supportive of her in her unfortunately very public divorce. She considers him handsome for a human, and perhaps would have taken things further with him if she had stayed in Glaston, but it likely would have been more of a fling than anything else.

~Puddlefoot: Ben's bear companion. Nimardril doesn’t know this bear well, but he has been in Glaston many times without hurting anyone, so she figures he’s alright.

~Aridana: An elleth married to a Rohirim man, living in Gondor, but she often stopped by Glaston to visit her mother in the past. Nimardril views her as a friend, and admires that she stands up to Celebithil.

~Nialwen: Aridana’s mother and former armsmaster of Adshanzun, she accompanied the group on the journey to Rohan and back, and Nim got to know her a little better during that time. The dagger she always carries at her side was given to her by Nialwen, who originally made it for her husband who perished at the beginning of the War of the Ring by an unknown poison. Nimardril looks to Nialwen as a mother figure of sorts, as she hasn’t had many of those, and she secretly hopes her uncle’s apparent affections for her go somewhere, despite it seeming like Nialwen is not interested. Nimardril also greatly admires her skill in weaponry.

~Dagdalin: The first dwarf Nimardril got to know on any level other than as a passing acquaintance. Dagdalin saved Nimardril's life after she was bitten by a cursed snake, and proved to be a very impressive fighter and elementalist during Adshanzun's journey to Rohan. She's impressed, and a little intimidated by him, as well as extremely grateful.

~Grandmaw: Nimardril's neighbor in Glaston, a sweet, if strange old human who is fond of cats. She and her daughter, Naavia, and boarder, Caitta, take care of Nimardril's cats when she is away. (@sewer-princess)

~Rildoreth: An elven scout of Rivendell who now lives in Glaston with her family, including her son Eruvion, Nimardril's former husband. Nimardril looks up to her for her scouting abilities, and like Nialwen, is one of the few mother figures she's had in her life. Nimardril is forever grateful that Rildoreth is still kind to her, despite her leaving Eruvion, for her kindness and caring demeanor made Nimardril feel safe and happy.

~Ogborg: A woman Nimardril used to consider a friend, until tense times during Adshanzun's journey to Rohan became too much and too often. She respects her fighting skills still, but not much else, especially after how Ogborg acted during her divorce, and then later seemed to be following her around. Her sexual advances intrigued Nimardril at one point, but now she just finds them crude. (@sewer-princess)

Past:

Curonthos: A guard and scout of Lothlórien, just like Nimardril's father, who he was good friends with. He and his wife Luinlalaith tried to look after her as best they could after her parents were gone, and Curonthos continued her training with the bow, hunting, and scouting. He was the one who finally sent word to Celebithil in Rivendell of what had happened. He also is the older brother of Gallorith's deceased best friend.

~Luinlalaith: Wife of Curonthos, helped look after Nimardril after her parents were gone, but found her to care for nothing but training and fighting. Nimardril wishes now she'd learned more from her, and been less unwilling at the time. (@loremastering)

~Gallorith: Gardener in Lothlórien, former soldier. Has turned to meditation and pacifism to attempt to deal with his experiences in war. Treated Nimardril as a little sister, and tried to help her deal with her emotions, as well. Joined the group traveling with Adshanzun to Rohan along with his wife, Elgaladwen, who Nimardril knew in passing in Rivendell as a friend of her uncle's. (@sewer-princess)

Moradan: Former soldier of Mirkwood, used to carry messages between Felegoth and Caras Galadhon. Had a relationship with Nimardril when she was barely into adulthood, but really was looking for some fun, while she was looking for something serious, so he ultimately broke it off, and completely broke Nimardril's heart.

~Eruvion: A soldier with Adshanzun, and scholar, who lives in Glaston. Nimardril's former husband in the traditional sense. She met him in The Prancing Pony in Bree, and found him handsome, and charming in a way that appealed to her greatly. It was due to he and his family that she decided to settle in Glaston for a time, and to join them in their journeys and battles. During the journey to Rohan in particular, she realized how much she'd miss Eruvion if something happened to him, and when she was captured by Zga and entangled in her webs before convincing the spider queen to free her, she felt such a regret at not getting to say goodbye to Eruvion, that it would long haunt her. When they were safe in Glaston again, and finally alone after so much time on the road with others, they finally got together, and for Nimardril, sleeping with someone meant marriage, and so they were wed, though never in a ceremony. Later, Nimardril would grow to feel stifled, and leave him, even if the marriage had been of her own volition. She still cares for him very much, and is regretful for hurting him.

~Ollosfin: A traveling bard, sweet of voice and visage, who took Nimardril's heart, even though she was married. (Or perhaps even more so, since she was feeling trapped) She was very conflicted over her feelings for him, knowing she should not have them, and eventually turned him down and left Glaston, fleeing from her feelings, Ollosfin, and her husband. She tried to find him again after her divorce, but was told he had long moved on. She remembers the time spent with him fondly, if shamefully on her part, and wishes to see him again. It was largely thanks to her misplaced feelings for him that she realized perhaps she should end her marriage.

Background, history, and RP can be seen here.

#This all would not fit with the main bio alas #Nimardril #lotro sub bio

[quixoticanarchy]

Cartographic Practices in Arda: Elves

[overthinking fantasy cartography series: Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Hobbits, and Men]

o   To what extent do Elves need maps? Can their extensive memories, which serve as archives for much knowledge, also hold spatial records? Do they construct elaborate mental maps of whole regions?

Even if so, they would still need extensive firsthand knowledge to draw on, or at least some reference maps to commit to memory. Local wayfinding and habitual travel could be done using memory, if they recalled precisely what paths they’d taken previously, for instance; but traveling somewhere new or planning large-scale geographic movements (of armies, for instance) would benefit from maps

o  Therefore: maps for planning and exploration, not necessarily for navigation (at least after the first time)

Also, maps as art form and aesthetic – it’s too easy with GIS etc. to think of maps as precise and correct instruments, but they’re also subjective, storytelling art pieces. I think Elves could get behind that

Especially if you think beyond maps as an technical representation of a landscape, per se, there’s a lot of leeway for creative depiction, symbolization, and extremely cultural-convention-dependent meaning transmission

Which could mean Elvish maps might be rather incomprehensible to anyone not familiar with their spatial and symbolic conventions

o   From LOTR we get the sense that although Elrond has a collection of maps and “books of lore” in Rivendell, much of the knowledge therein may be quite old and out of date – the map he has of Mordor was made before Sauron returned there (which is also fascinating – who mapped it? Were they on an official cartographic expedition? Was it a landform map? A political map? A war planning map? Was it commissioned by a king (of Gondor? An Elven-king?)? Did the Elves and Men share maps? During the Last Alliance one can assume they did, but whose?)

A problem with these old reference maps (not just for Elves, either) is that even if it’s stored perfectly in your memory, the world isn’t static. Updates and re-memorization would be necessary

(also, by the late Second Age, the world would have ceased being flat and necessitated a revolution in cartographic practices as they suddenly contend with the idea of map projections... who spearheaded this? who drew the new maps? are there still old Elven maps kicking around that are no longer accurately scaled or proportioned?)

(there’s a lot more so it’s below the cut)

o   I think that it’s fair to say that Elven governments might have employed cartography much as early Western states did, as critical tools of statecraft for managing a) war and b) populations. Given how much attention has to go toward war, it would make sense that Elven cartography, at least according to conventions in Beleriand, would be oriented toward visualizing and managing militarized spaces. Maps are probably a tool for kings, their counselors, and their military leaders. Everyday Elves would probably rely on spatial memory but wouldn’t have access to physical maps, per se

o   Significant differences between Beleriand and Middle-earth maps – political boundaries in Beleriand are essentially drawn by and between Elven realms, whereas by the Third Age in Middle-earth they’ve got a sustained presence only in Imladris, Mirkwood, Lothlórien, and the Havens at a stretch

Beleriand maps would also differ greatly based on who made them, given the hidden kingdoms – would Gondolin and Nargothrond even make maps that gave their location? The map in the Silmarillion would almost certainly not have existed (unless made retrospectively?), because it puts together all sorts of information that shouldn’t have been known openly

Having maps of the continent in general would be a good idea even for the hidden kingdoms, in case they ever needed to venture out, but then again, they didn’t really plan on doing that

o   Mapping practices among the Elves (this could be its own essay)

like Dwarves, the Noldor might favor maps of mineral deposits, physical features, resources for craftsmanship, trade routes. I think they’d appreciate intricately aesthetic maps too, or encoded symbol maps that are incomprehensible unless you know how to decipher them

the Teleri would have coastal maps and nautical maps. What about weather maps? Would they map wind patterns and storm tracks? Tides?

Nothing to say about the Vanyar. I don’t know...

Laiquendi - focus on forested lands, the territories deemed peripheral to other realms, the “blank spaces” on others’ maps

We know very little about the Avari and any cartography they might have had – did they have writing, without contact with Fëanor or Daeron? Did they have unlabeled symbol maps? Did they not need them? Maybe if they weren’t planning any extensive travel, casing the area for resources, planning any territorial expansion or war, or ruling kingdoms and exacting tribute, they wouldn’t have needed conventional maps. Their spatial practices could be focused around their daily lives and navigating the proximate world, relying on memory and experience

In mixed regions, like Mirkwood and Lothlórien, whose spatial practices take precedence? Likely the establishment of formal domains, and their need for defense, mapped borders, awareness of other territorial claims and threats, has become more prominent than it would’ve been for First Age Avari, say, and by the Third Age cartographic practices would probably reflect a war footing similar to First Age Beleriand (and Second Age everywhere, but I feel like the whole flat-earth-becomes-a-planet issue might have derailed a lot of their cartographic efforts for a time)

#sorry this is incredibly long #this is what i write about instead of my thesis #the entire essay is like 3.5k words.... #so i'm splitting it up by race #and im not doing the valar etc bc i don't have insightful analysis for spatial practices that consist of 'gonna shove around more mountains' #i mean i say that. watch me analyze it anyway down the road #silmarillion #tolkien #lord of the rings #tolkien meta #geography things #arda cartography #elves #skravler

[tuuliii]

The Lord of the Rings, Turku 2018 part 3

Next up is the battle of Isengard. It happened off stage, so we only see the end of the battle with some orcs and Ents. Pippin finds the Palantír and sees Sauron. Then the whole company parts for Minas Tirith and Pelennor Fields happen.

So Rohan was cut from this adaption, which was understandable, but they kept Éowyn :D Rohan was also mentioned a couple of times, but our favorite Shieldmaiden is the only one of the Rohírrim we get to see and it's a little confusing.

Here, Aragorn is being strangled by The Witch King.

And Éowyn comes to the rescue with Merry. They're not injured for long and Merry says the iconic "I'm hungry" line.

There's also this hilarious "love triangle" with Aragorn/Éowyn/Arwen, while Èowyn lies wounded in his arms. She immediately falls in love with this literal stranger and Aragorn says something like "But my heart is pledged to another" and then the topic is never picked up again 😂

Anyway, they decide to march to the Black Gate like in the book and Mouth of Sauron has his dramatic moment with Frodo's Mithril shirt. l love that they decided to make him look like a vampire!

The grand finale begins and Sam rescues Frodo from the hands of the orcs. This part was very good. Frodo was absolutely exhausted at this point and just kept complaining about how heavy the ring was. Then, at the brink of Mnt.Doom, Frodo claims the ring and Gollum comes and bites his finger off. then he falls into the fire and let me tell you, you could really feel the heat. The whole floor was covered in fire and smoke and Gollum fell onto it very dramatically, like in the musical.

Sam rescues Frodo and then we skip onto the coronation of Aragorn and HIS WEDDING TO ARWEN who magically decided that "Yeah, I guess I want to marry him now that he's king!" Not a good look, Arwen, not a good look.

The journey home is skipped as is the scouring of the Shire, and then we just see Rosie and Sam's reunion and then they get married and have children. One of the final scenes is between Frodo and Sam, who comes into Frodo's study and says "Mr. Frodo...We had decided to name our eldest child Frodo, but it's a girl and now Rosie says we can't name her Frodo so I thought if you's have my back in this."

And then Frodo laughs and says they should name her Elanor, like the flowers in Lothlórien. Honestly, I really appreciated the amount of these little details they included that were also in the books, it made it so much better!

The play ended with the departure of the ring bearers and then just like in the book, Sam comes home and says his final line: "Home again, at last."

Here's a picture of the handbill, it was gorgeous!

It includes pretty much all of the pictures, sketches of the costume designs, the poem and a map. Plus words from director, producer, dramaturge and costume designer.

I bought this poster of Aragorn cause why not and he now hangs on my bedroom wall along with the autographs of Miska Kaukonen (Gollum) and Mika Kujala (Gandalf).

The text says "Morning has always been the hope of men." They had similar posters of Frodo, Galadriel and Gandalf, but Aragorn was the prettiest so I got him. I also really love that quote.

The critic's opinions on this show was mostly positive, though it definitely had some flaws. I think this was a great adaption and it was visually so so pleasing. There was also prerecorded music, that had been composed for this production that really matched the vibe.

There were a couple of scenes that didn't really make sense (like Èowyn lmao) and if you were not already a fan, this might've been somewhat confusing to watch. Anyway, I will love this forever and I hope some of you made to the end of this post cause I spent too much time and energy writing this.

#lotr #the lord of the rigs #taru sormusten herrasta #the lord of the rings musical #lotr musical #silmarillion

[warrioreowynofrohan]

On Gondor and Nationalism

Gondor, and particularly Denethor and Boromir, is characterized more than any other realm in The Lord of the Rings by nationalism, and there is a sharp contrast between its actual role in the war and the way Denethor and Boromir percieve its role. Two quotes in The Return of the King form the core of Tolkien’s discussion of nationalism, and both are conversations between Denethor and Gandalf.

The first:

Denethor: Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man’s, unless the king should come again.

Gandalf: ...I will say this: the rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I should not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit or flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?

And the second, discussing Denethor’s views on what should have been done with the Ring:

Denethor: It should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need, but set beyond his grasp, save by a victory so final that what then befell would not trouble us, being dead.

Gandalf: You think, as is your wont, my lord, of Gondor only. Yet there are other men and other lives, and time still to be. And for me, I pity even his slaves.

Denethor: And where will other men look for help if Gondor falls?

Both of these conversations point to the fundamental flaw in Denethor’s worldview, and it is a nuanced one. He is not the weak, selfish old man presented in the films; he is intelligent, pragmatic, and realistic, and his strategy and tactics are thoughtful. Again unlike the movies, the mission he sends Faramir on - to prevent the armies of Mordor from crossing Anduin, and cause them heavy losses if they do cross - is not a pointless suicide mission but a crucial and tactically necessary battle. He is wrong in his attitude towards and treatment of Faramir, not in sending him into danger.

Denethor represents (as, in another way, does Saruman) the wisdom of the world. His statement that, as the steward of Gondor, his highest purpose must be the good of Gondor, would be approved by many political theorists. But in the wider vision of the story of The Lord of the Rings, expressed by Gandalf, it is critically flawed in its narrowness and arrogance. The war against Sauron is not about the victory or preservation of one realm alone; it is about saving anything and everything good in Middle-earth, in the present or the future. This is the moment when Gandalf comes closest, of any point in the story, to stating outright who he is and what his purpose is; he doesn’t say outright that he was sent by the Valar to preserve the world against Sauron, but he comes near enough to it that Denethor, an intelligent and learned man, could pick up on it if he wanted to. It is important to Gandalf to at least try to get Denethor to understand the importance of what he’s saying.

In the second conversation, though, Denethor has fallen still farther from the truth. In the first one, he only said that Gondor’s good had to be his highest priority, as its ruler; now he says that if Minas Tirith falls, Sauron’s conquered the world anyway and it doesn’t matter if he gets the Ring. In his eyes, Minas Tirith is the only thing standing against Sauron, and the only thing that matters; its defeat is to him synonymous with the destruction of the world. People across Middle-earth are fighting against Sauron: on the very day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, the elves of Lothlórien are fighting off an assault by Sauron’s forces, as are the wood-elves in Mirkwood; the Battle of Dale in which the kings of both Dale and the Lonely Mountain fall will be two days later. Gondor is not alone in this war; it is not the only realm fighting and not the only one whose battles matter. It is not the bulwark sheltering the peaceful rest of the world from war; the rest of the world is fighting. But Denethor chooses to regard it as the only place of importance.

These are perspectives that he passed on, in part, to his eldest son, as seen in some of Boromir’s deeds at the Council of Elrond as well as in his later temptation by the Ring. At the Council, he takes the tone that Gondor is unacknowledged and unappreciated and is doing all the work of fighting Sauron: “Few, I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last...By our valour the wild folk of the East are still restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West...those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help.” He also - very importantly - instantly conflates “Doom” in the prophecy he hears with “the Doom of Minas Tirith”: the same thing Denethor is doing when he says that, if Minas Tirith falls, the world has already fallen and there’s no point in keeping the Ring away from Sauron. When he is told that the Ring cannot be wielded to defeat Sauron by force of arms, he acts as though the other members of the Council are abandoning Gondor. And so the Ring tempts him with the power to save Minas Tirith, because that’s the only way he can concieve of for the world to be saved.

Aragorn’s response to Boromir, in speaking of the Rangers, is not a counter-boast but an attempt (like Gandalf’s with Denethor) to give Boromir a broader perspective: many people are fighting and resisting Sauron and other evil things, in their own ways (“the servants of the Enemy...are found in many places, not in Mordor only”). Gondor is not alone; it is playing one particular role, while others play other roles.

This attitude, that its battles are the only ones that matter, is quite unique to Gondor. Legolas and Gimli, fighting in the wars of Rohan and Gondor, recognize that their kin cannot come to them: “They have no need to march to war...war already marches on their own lands”. The hobbits continually think little of themselves and their actions, even while achieving great things. (One example that amuses me is the contrast at the Council of Elrond between Boromir, who thinks his comparatively uneventful journey quite heroic - “since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself” - and Frodo, who regards his achievement of escaping to Rivendell while pursued by all nine of the Nazgûl, and surviving a wound that would have been worse-than-fatal to most other mortals, with an attitude of ‘well, I rather muffed that up’.) The Ents very much have their own priorites - Treebeard says “I am not really on anyone’s side, as no one is really on my side - no one cares for the woods these days” - but they involve themselves in the war beyond merely defending Fangorn, by destroying the orcs who invade Rohan from the north. Théoden likewise keeps the big picture, not just the narrow ‘good of Rohan’ in mind, continuing with his army to the relief of Gondor even as news comes of Rohan being invaded from the north and east (the aforementioned orcs whom the Ents deal with).

Frodo comes closest to understanding what Gandalf is saying in the first-quoted conversation with Denethor. After seeing the Witch-king’s army march out from Minas Morgul, Frodo is tempted to despair: “Even if my errand is performed, no one will ever know. There will be no one I can tell. It will be in vain.” But he resists this: what he had to do, he had to do, if he could, and whether Faramir or Aragorn or Elrond or Gandalf or Galadriel or anyone else ever knew about it was beside the purpose. Aragorn, too, understands it: the march on the Black Gate is the antithesis of Denethor’s perspective: sacrifice of the armies of Gondor and Rohan without even knowing what may happen after they are defeated, in the hope that they may enable someone else to win the victory. They have no way of guessing that Frodo and Sam will reach Mount Doom at the same time as the armies clash at the Black Gate; their hope is founded on the idea of distracting Sauron long enough that Frodo and Sam can destroy the Ring days later, after the armies are all dead.

And Denethor and Boromir’s attitudes are all the more ironic because, in the end, Gondor doesn’t hold up very well. They fall apart and stop even trying to man the walls of Minas Tirith after a mere two days of siege, when food supplies haven’t even begun to be an issue. For a fortified city, especially one as well-designed for defense as Minas Tirith, that’s a very short amount of time to hold out against a siege! During the march on the Black Gate, even the sight of the Plains of Gorgoroth is too much for some of the men of Gondor and Rohan, and they can’t keep going. Yes, they’re just regular people and have never seen anything this horrible before, but Frodo and Sam and now Pippin are also just regular people used to peaceful lives, and they keep going. The purpose of this comparison isn’t to run down the Men of Gondor, but to point out how deeply wrong the idea is of them being the only ones whose fight matters, the only ones with the nerve and determination to protect the rest of the world. The hobbits, who don’t think of themselves as anything special or important or strong, are the ones who save the world, and they do it through hope, endurance, self-sacrifice, love, and compassion, not through military might.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #denethor #boromir #gondor #aragorn #frodo baggins #gandalf #politics

[vefanyar]

18 Questions Tag Game

@nimium-amatrix-ingenii-sui tagged me in this; since I can’t sleep and am this close to doomscrolling, let’s try and break that spiral with some memery. 

1. Why did you choose your URL? I had another tumblr before this and decided to switch because of fandom drama. At the same time, I read a poem about clouds that was all about disengagement and just hit the mood of the moment. Plus, Galadriel’s Lament in Quenya is one of my favourite Tolkien poems, and Varda uplifting her hands like clouds (ve fanyar) and drowning all the paths in deep shadow also fit what I was doing.

2. Any side blogs? A bunch, only two of which are sort-of active. @itslovethatsavesthem for Critical Role (specifically for M9 and EXU, also spoilery, don’t click through if you haven’t seen those) and @ivrun for my main DnD character, a Half-Orc Life Domain Cleric of Eldath/Divine Soul Sorcerer - mostly commissions, dollmakers and various inspirational things from around tumblr that fit her. 

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? Too long.

4. Do you have a queue tag? There are a couple that I don’t even remember, but I got tired of typing them out before autofill tags became a thing, so now it’s just “q”, purely out of laziness, no political meaning behind it, if that needs stating.

5. What did you originally start this blog for? This one? Tolkien. The one I had before? Fandom action had moved to tumblr, and I remember thinking that I wanted to engage with the Sherlock fandom a bit more after finding out that one of the actors in that show was gonna be young Bilbo... and then I got hooked on that show for a brief but pretty intense time. Yikes. 

6. Why did you choose your icon? It’s a faux-elven crest I made to match one of my first layouts and then got attached to. At that point I was poking at gender stuff a bit, so the fact that it’s neither a purely male nor purely female design as Tolkien’s heraldic rules go was more or less intentional. 

7. Why did you choose your header? It’s one of Tolkien’s artworks of Lothlórien; I always adored the detail of the mallorn tree in flower.

8. What’s your post with the most notes? This quote, apparently? Not even something I made myself, what a bummer.

9. How many followers do you have? 667. Who are you and why are you following me? ♥

10. How many blogs do you follow? 226, but I think it may be time to sift through them again, because I don’t recognize half the names and fandoms after being relatively inactive here for a while, no personal hard feelings.  

11. Have you ever made a sh*tpost? Oh yeah, plenty. 

12. How often do you use Tumblr every day? Ehhhh. I haven’t been here a lot recently because school was pretty taxing and my brain just wasn’t able to keep up with two things... but usually I check at least twice a day, more when there’s extended downtime.

13. Have you ever had a fight with another blog? Oh yeah, there were people I fought with who happened to have blogs. Not so much with the blogs themselves. :P

14. How do you feel about “you have to reblog this” posts? Guilt-trippy shit like that is just making sure that I won’t reblog this post - if I want it on my blog regardless, I reblog it from someone before that, usually not with that comment attached.

15. Opinion on tag games? Can be interesting!

16. Opinion on ask games? Same thing! I wish there were more responses, but still!

17. Which of your mutuals is Tumblr famous? Uh...  don’t know, don’t care?

18. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals? One of them is my girlfriend, just saying... ;) I also do frequently get cases of platonic starry-eyes at people, though... 

Not tagging anyone, but if you want to do this, please feel free to steal!

#meme

[coltskaneko]

The Last One Standing - Jake x MC

Summary: I wanted to write something about Jake’s death because ouchh i’m still recovering. Definitely still needs MAJOR editing but I still wanted to post something

Prompt: This is for this week’s ChoicesCreates: “What If” so thank you to the lovely @hollyashton and @catsrtheboss !!

Pairing: Jake x Female MC

Rating: I guess T to be safe (I definitely used the word shit a few times)

Constructive criticism always welcome (just not about my punctuation because I KNOW, that is my fatal flaw). 

also shoutout to @heart-jake there is a line in there that was 100% inspired by something they said (which btw i’m still sobbing over THANKS)

She racked her brain. Her eyes shifted, not looking for anything in particular. It was merely a method to gather her thoughts as she kneeled beside him. He chuckled at the sight, not a laugh with ludic tendency, but one of pure contention – one meant for her.

“Hey princess.” he spoke

“No, no, Jake don't start” she begged him to stop talking, but he wouldn’t for he had too much to say. His words harbored resistance but held a eutony only his voice could provide. The air grew dense, rich with copper.  His breathing began to shallow; and he found it harder to contend with the ever-exacerbating constriction in his chest. But he continued... because he always continued to speak his mind.

“Take this,” he implored, pressing the cold metal firmly into her palm.

“Ain’t too fancy, I know.” He crooned

“No Jake I –“

“Please. Take it” Jake pushed. She searched his eyes before nodding and stealing a glance at the all too familiar dog tags; the same ones she had gripped to beckon the man closer in times of blissful solitude.

He called back to her “Hey, baby, you gotta keep going okay?” Jake grunted, clearly in pain.

“No, stop, don't do this to me Jake. I can't do this without you.” tears immediately brimming and cascading down her face.

“Bullshit.” He smirked 

Her hair was singed, silken skin bruised and littered with pale white lines of fading scars; but she was so beautiful. Surely he had the hands of a soldier, of a fighter, but she, she was going to be the one to continue.

 “Princess, look at me” his hands absentmindedly found their way to her heated cheeks, forcing her to face what was in front of her. She gripped at his jacket and tugged at him, pleading him to stop.

 “You're the strongest person I know.” Her smile was labored but irenic in all its glory.  The moment was too brief, for her beaming immediately fell short, and the girl continued to sob. She ran her fingertips over Jake's bloody knuckles before speaking again

“I don't want to do this without you, I need you.”

It was his turn to feel the stinging in his eyes and closing of his throat. He thought he would never admit it, but he needed her too.

She continued to mumble a series of “I need you”s and “don't leave me”s but his focus was on her eyes, auroral in nature, and on her hair... He thought back to a night much like this one, where he spent the night in her room in the watchers encampment, or as he liked to call it “the knock off Lothlórien”. He remembered sitting with her in cafuné, a particularly halcyon memory – but it began to fade… as it would.

 He felt it. His vision began to blur, his muscles began to relax; and the memories of hasty kisses, burning embers, and diaphanous fabric resting on her skin at dusk, dissipate into nothingness. And the visions of her crimson-stained lips as the dust settled after a particularly rough fight – and her transitional spoken “well… shit” once the peanut gallery was out of immediate danger - began to vanish as he slipped into unconsciousness.

 She took note of his hazy eyes.

“No, Jake, please.” she choked, moving to support more of his weight.

she paused “I love you.” The words were not forced, it had been a long time coming, and they fell from her mouth with pure conviction.

 The glint in his eyes spoke volumes - she knew if he were in a state of normalcy he would say something along the lines of “I know” or “…obviously.” But in his final breath he decided to finally say what he always knew.

 “Taylor I-“ he barely voiced “I l-“ his head drifted to the side and his eyes no longer met her awaiting stare. He was gone.

 Taylor keened “no, no, please no…”

Her shoulders suddenly felt as though they were made of stone. Her body racked. She gripped at his clothes as she faltered. Her tears created pale streaks down her face, her eyebrows knitted together as she sniveled and moved her gaze away from her lover. Her expression unyielding, callous and hostile; she simply took hold of her dagger, stood with absolution and turned to face the daunting volcano – for it was time to end this. Her pyrrhic victory was finally ready for her, and her alone.

#this was kinda short #i wish i had more time to perfect it but this is whatcha get i guess #playchoices #i'm gonna go cry again bye #choices #choicescreates #choices endless summer #endless summer #ES #endless summer book 2 #jake mckenzie #jake endless summer #my post