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#third age
velvet4510 · 1 month
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The fact that Celeborn refers to the love of his life as his treasure and refers to Arwen as Aragorn’s treasure … a trend picked up by Elanor who refers to Frodo as Sam’s treasure … it reminds me of how Thorin sought literal treasure but ultimately valued Bilbo above it all … who knows if that’s actually the source of this term for the great romances of the Third Age.
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unavidas · 4 months
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Glorfindel
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istaricelebelasse · 8 months
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Maglor: *somehow finds himself in Lorien*
Galadriel: I can’t believe I have to look after my kinslaying cousin
Celeborn: You don’t
Maglor: You really, really don’t
Galadriel: *already planning a new wardrobe for him* Oh woe is me, how fate has forced my hand
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ettelenethelien · 1 month
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Maglor in the Third Age:
he's stopped his shtick of only keeping to the seashores sometime in the early second age
look, it's lonely. also, probably a waste of time and everything. he's not fixing anything that way.
so, by the third age, he's just travelling here and there... as often as not, it is the coastal regions of middle-earth, but, ultimately, he goes pretty much everywhere.
sometimes he gets some money by playing at inns and doing odd jobs for mortals. he's gotten used to making an illusion of not having glowy amanyar eyes, because it makes the non-numenorean peoples take interest, and the gondorians and arnorians know
he just keeps adopting children? it's not his fault!
he doesn't steal children anymore. unless they're mistreated. let's just say he may be starting off many changeling myths (though not only him; elves in general will always approach a child they see treated badly and ask if it needs help)
a lot of those kids (from a hundred different cultures) just go a-wandering with him? half of them end up as the greatest musicians among men. but he drops the ones that want to off at rivendell.
elrond knows it's maglor. he also hardly ever gets to see him because maglor is stealthy.
mmm, if there are any places he avoids it's the elvish realms.
and yet, he does come to rivendell in secret, once in a while. and even pays a suprise visit to galadriel.
galadriel has last spoken to him at the mereth aderthad. yes, she's mad. no, she won't miss an occasion to speak with old kin in the language of her youth.
he does not go to mirkwood. ever. that would be suicide, and he is good at reassuring himself that he's doing the mirkwood elves a favour by not giving them flashbacks and not making them kinslayers.
all in all, he travels around.
he definitely is part of many "resistance movements" against sauron in the South whenever things get bad
there's probably some resentment there because it's easy enough to mistake him for someone of númenorean descent ? (that noldorin appearance + the only answer he gives when asked his age is "older than I look")
he probably replies to accusations of gondorian affiliation by "I'm a far off relation but I'm pretty sure I'd be hated there"?
that works I guess. somehow "villainous character from stories of the elder days" isn't a potential reason they come up with, unlike say, helping the people gondor would colonise.
though he's a bit wrong on that count because a fair bit of learned gondor sees him as mostly tragic
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theaskywalker · 10 days
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Imagine being an Elven warrior aiding Thorin's company and Thranduil taking an interest in you
Masterlist
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Legolas talking of the Paths of the Dead: They say many years ago Isildur cursed these mountains.
[A long time ago]
Isildur: Fuck these mountains!
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atane-is-here · 9 months
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Stinky Sauron
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I think I would go with beginning of the third age, when there was still some peace but also some adventures to go on.
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kiginioha · 11 months
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What do you think about some more memes?)
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tolkienosaurus · 12 days
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velvet4510 · 1 month
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captain-peanut110 · 1 year
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Imagine if things in Gondolin used to be like, “old fashioned” and stuff
Everyone wore long robes, long pants and long sleeves, intricate armour and such
There was little touching outside of one’s family and most conversations were had in a formal way, even amongst friends
Glorfindel died before any of that began to change and in the hustle of being back from the dead and a war going on, he did not give much thought to the whole norms of socialisation business
After he settles in Imladris nothing seems to different, until one evening he is staying up late, talking to Erestor in his office. It is a hot summer night and Erestor is incredibly tired from all of his work.
He rests his head atop a pile of duty reports and reaches to undo the buttons of his long sleeved robes, pushing the heavy fabric off his shoulders.
It drops with a quiet rustle, attracting Glorfindel’s attention and a moment later he feels his face heat up and his eyes dart over Erestor’s exposed neck and collarbones, his white undershirt looking way too translucent in the candle light.
He rolls his sleeves up and rubs his temples exhaustedly, too distracted to notice Glorfindel’s reaction.
Glorfindel starts praying to the Valar to take him back, doing his best not to look at Erestor.
He does not notice Erestor’s concerned gaze, nor does he realise that his friend got up from his chair, until he’s standing right in front of mortified warrior.
“Your face looks very red, are you unwell from the heat?” Erestor asks and before Glorfindel can answer, reaches out to touch his forehead.
Glorfindel freezes, not sure what is going on and Erestor brushes a strand of his hair away from his face.
At that Glorfindel gets up faster than should be possible and runs away, muttering something about a sudden urgent guards business he forgot all about.
Erestor tries to stop him and grabs his hand, which absolutely short-circuits the poor ellon’s brain.
Erestor is left standing in his office, absolutely confused and in his usual pessimistic manner concludes that Glorfindel doesn’t like him.
Glorfindel sits down under a tree right outside and tries to catch his breath, wondering what has gotten into Erestor’s head. How could they possibly hold hands without being married.
Celebrian finds his there during her evening walk and for a moment fears something ill had befallen the captain.
Yet Glorfindel just looks up her with an absolutely scandalised expression and whispers. “Erestor made advances towards me.”
Celebrian is naturally shocked, Erestor being the last person she would ever suspect of anything untoward.
“He touched my forehead. And my hair.” Glorfindel’s face turns red again.
“And before that, he… He discarded his formal robe and pulled his sleeves up.” He turns to Celebrian with eyes wide with horror, as she is doing her bestest not to laugh. “I could see his collarbones. Collarbones!”
Celebrian is now the one praying for strength not to embarrass herself and Glorfindel with sudden laughter, remembering her mother’s stories about the peculiar ways of the old.
“And then…” Glorfindel does not seem to notice her struggle, his thoughts still undoubtedly way too focused on Erestor’s shameful collarbones.
“Then he tried to grab my hand and at that point I wasn’t even sure what he was saying, I made up some flimsy excuse and ran.”
Celebrian nods solemnly, not daring herself to speak and calla in her mind to her husband, hoping by some miracle of Eru’s he would not be asleep yet and could come to her aid. There is simply no way she is going to have the conversation with the Valars’ blessed emissary all by herself.
“I think I’m going to have to marry him now, to keep both of us honest.”
Celebrian shakes her head, fighting another bout of laughter, thankful it had not been Lindir or one of her beloved children that happened to witness Glorfindel’s breakdown. Or better yet, Ereinion back in the day.
She imagines the High Kings face lighting up with an involuntary smile, seeing the legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin loose his wits over a councillor’s collarbones and feels a warm and happy feeling flood her chest.
“How can I ever face him again?”
Glorfindel seems to be talking directly to her now and she snaps out of her thoughts before the warmth memories of Ereinion always bring is shattered by an icy cold reminder of his fall.
Thankfully and perhaps with divine intervention, that is the exact moment Elrond steppes into view, looking at his wire clearly struggling not to smile and Glorfindel, sitting on the ground and looking mortified.
He recounts the indecent experience once again and Celebrian is grateful for Elrond serving as a distraction and turns head away to laugh silently with no one but the stars to witness.
She is about to excuse herself and leave her unfortunate husband to deal with his friend’s embarrassment, when she spots a lone figure in the distance and follows the familiar shape after a short word with Elrond.
It indeed turns our to be Erestor, looming the gardens like a shadow, his hair hanging loosely and obscuring his face from view.
He is wearing no robes over his white shirt and one of its sleeves appears to be torn.
“Erestor?”
Celebrian steps up to the councillor, announcing herself not to startle him.
He turns to face her and in the dim starlight his eyes are dark and endless voids of sadness upon his pale and indifferent face.
“My most revered lady.” He greets her with a bow or his head and a smile, though it looks out of place next to the sorrow in his eyes.
“To have been blessed with your fair presence is a gift this wretched evening.”
Celebrian takes a step closer to lay her hand upon his cheek. He looks about to run from her, and perhaps had it been anybody else, he would have, yet the friendship that grew between them over the years meant she was perhaps the only one he would honestly speak his troubles to.
“I believe the noble Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin desires to be wed to you, councillor.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Erestor looks at her in astonishment.
“He believes it is the only way to preserve your and his own decency after the absolutely scandalous and entirely inappropriate way you behaved towards him in your office.”
Erestor’s eyebrows shoot up with astonishing speed.
“What?”
“Collarbones, councillor.” Celebrian can no longer keep herself from laughter, taking in the councillor’s bewildered expression.
“It is all very simple - you have shamelessly displayed your collarbones and both of your entire forearms to the noble lord, as well as attempted to hold his hand before marriage, which compels the noble lord to wed you and spare both of your from this shame.”
Erestor appears about to start laughing or perhaps crying, Celebrian is not entirely certain of that.
She pats his shoulder gently, giving him a look similar to the one her children would get after getting into inevitable trouble due not knowing something vital in their young age.
“He is a lord of Gondolin from the first age. The last time he socialised with people rolling your sleeves up would be akin to taking all your clothes off in public. He might have gotten slightly traumatised by your collarbones, but at least we now know he wants to marry you.”
“I wish I was dead right now.”
“Elrond is the one I left with Glorfindel. He is going to have to tell him you are allowed to hold hands before marriage now.” She laughs once again. “I do hope he does bring Ereinion up. It is doubtful the noble lord could ever recover from that conversation.”
Erestor laughs.
“I think I ought to apologise. Clear everything up between the two of us.”
She is about to tell him what a terrible it would be to go talk to Glorfindel at the moment, yet does not have the time before he is already off, waving his sleeveless arm at Glorfindel, who attempts to hide behind the nearly laughing Elrond.
Idk what this is, ahahaha
The only reason this exists is because i imagined the first age having victorian era style ankle freak-outs and because I desperately believe Erestor and Celebrian are best friends.
It’s 2:20 am and I have to wake up at 5 :)))
And so i wrote whatever the fuck this is instead. Cheers!
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marimosalad · 9 months
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The moment of the Ring’s unmaking. The Ring inscription is seen imploding around as the magic collapses along with Sauron’s flaming eye.
Another one I made to accompany “to feel this once more” by eastwynds.
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robins-egg-bindery · 2 years
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Skin Deep by Epilachna
Thranduil knows better than any that beauty is only skin deep, but what does he believe lies underneath? Early Third Age and beyond.
fic by Epilachna
772 pages / 214,677 words
Title Font: Aniron
Body Fonts: Pilgrim, Cirth Erebor, Better Grade
More on the process below the cut!
Such an epic fic! This is the first and only fic I've done from FF.net, but the commissioner was kind enough to help with pulling the text off the site (FF.net does not make it easy!) It's a big early Third Age fic, featuring Thranduil and an OC that takes on a life of her own as Thranduil's future wife. The sun & moon paper with the graphite duo book cloth is stunning imo, and I modeled the rest of the book after the original LOTR novels. The title page took inspiration from The Hobbit, but the rest was influenced heavily by the trilogy. I dug up the original fonts as well; Pilgrim for the body text, and Cirth Erebor for the title page writings. It also matches the original lettering, which was "The Lord of the Rings translated from the Red Book". This version reads, "Skin Deep translated from FF.Net"
The only difference with this typeset was the inclusion of Aniron, the movie's title font, for the title and drop caps (the original books did not have drop caps; they were not as fashionable during this era of publishing, especially for fantasy novels). Overall, I think it works as a wonderful homage to the source material - and fits Skin Deep right alongside Tolkein's works on a shelf. The commissioner also commissioned a copy for the author, and I do hope you enjoy holding your work in your hands!
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theaskywalker · 4 months
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Imagine Fili showing up uninvited in your house and asking you to join him on the Quest
Masterlist
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"GROND THEY NAMED IT, IN MEMORY OF THE HAMMER OF THE UNDERWORLD OF OLD."
PIC INFO: Spotlight on an illustration depicting Sauron's host during the Siege of Gondor, bringing up the hundred-foot long battering ram, Grond, to smash the Great Gate of Minas Tirith and burn the White City. March 3019 of the Third Age.
"Great engines crawled across the field; and in the midst was a huge ram, great as a forest-tree a hundred feet in length, swinging on mighty chains. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor, and its hideous head, founded of black steel, was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay. Grond they named it, in memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old. Great beasts drew it, orcs surrounded it, and behind walked mountain-trolls to wield it."
-- "The Siege of Gondor," Book IV of "THE LORD OF THE RINGS: The Return of the King," written by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Source: www.instagram.com/tr.middlee_earth/p/CxtNQ_0Nknh.
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