aotearoa20

[aotearoa20]

Sir🫡

[aotearoa20]

Concept: Elrond is, by Middle-Earth standards, a perfectly respectable level of fancy. You know, he's an elf-lord, he has plenty of robes with intricate embroidery or layers of flowing fabric, he wears finely-crafted jewelry, especially during formal occasions. He's elegant, but not gaudy– there are some tasteful references to his various ancestors in his outfits, he's got a whole image. He assumes that this is like, standard for the Noldor.

What Elrond failed to realize when he sailed to Valinor is that the expectations for "Middle-Earth elf lord with vaguely Noldorian implications" and "Noldor prince in the Blessed Realm" are two very different things. He goes to a feast and everyone is dressed like they'll die if they're not wearing four layers of skirts and at least 20 pounds of gems and precious metals. He shows up to Finarfin's court wearing more jewelry than he ever would've worn in Rivendell and people still flash him strange looks and ask him whether he wasn't feeling up to dressing up that night. He'll braid his hair in the half-up half-down style he often wore in Rivendell and it'll cause a scandal because– gasp– Elrond had part of his hair loose. In public. Noldor keep giving him jewelry because they've collectively decided that he's clearly been deprived in Middle Earth. He's confused and a little bit afraid, frankly.

Thankfully, most of the attention is taken off Elrond when Tirion is engulfed in drama the likes of which hasn't been seen for hundreds of years. The cause? Galadriel showing up in Tirion with her hair entirely loose, and no jewelry to speak of. Her robes are entirely plain. Her only adornment is her unbearably smug smirk.

[aotearoa20]

Vána and Oromë requested by @bluebirdflies and Oromë by @glorfinrod!

I had a lot of fun making up their design! For some reason, I just can’t imagine Oromë without the antlers! Thank you for the request; hope you like them!

[aotearoa20]

#dont think a stuffed elephant is all that niche #his name was ellie :) #was an imaginative child

[aotearoa20]

Arafinwe: *Knows only ancient Quenya*

Gil-Galad: *Knows a little modern Quenya and mostly Sindarin*

Elrond: Oh come on, I cannot be the only one who understands both of you! Where's Galadriel?

[aotearoa20]

Maedhros: I have not the energy to deal with this!

Maedhros: (points at Elros) I dont want you here

Maedhros: (points at Elrond) and i dont want you here

Maedhros: (glares at Maglor) and yet somehow i am stuck with the lot of you

Maglor: :)

Elrond: :(

Elros: fine, we'll do our singing lessons in the morning

#no rest for the wicked or whatever #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #kidnap fam #love grew between them #eventually #silmarillion #tolkien #incorrect silmarillion quotes

[aotearoa20]

The steps to her father’s chamber are steep and winding and by the time Luthien reaches the top she thinks she must have been climbing for hours. She doesn’t really mind though, she is in no particular hurry to see her father anyway and she is grateful for the time to think.

The door at the top the landing is made of hard thick wood painted the colour of nightshade. She raises her hand to knock and drops it again. Seeing her father is always an uncomfortable, unhappy experience and she wishes that her mother had just sent one of their servants to speak to him instead. But no Luthien was told to and Luthien is an obedient daughter. She knocks, lightly and first and then two harder knocks but no answer comes. Annoyance stirs inside her but she maintains her smile and knocks harder again until a quiet, melodic voice calls out

‘enter’

Luthien does as instructed and pushes the heavy door open and stepping into the large room. He has been re decorating again she thinks. Candles line the walls casting the room in a faint, golden glow. In the centre of the floor stands a large circular bed with pale curtains surrounding it. There to the right sits her father at his desk. He does not bother to look towards her. She can see his pale hand moving around and realises he is sketching again. He is very talented at it she admits. Many pieces of his artwork hang gracefully from the stone walls. Some depict beautiful places Luthien has never seen before, wide open grasslands and shimmering lakes. Others depict faces with long pointed ears and with hair of molten gold, coal black and white-silver not unlike her father’s own long locks. She wonders if they were people he knew once but doesn’t bother to ask. She doesn’t think he would respond anyway.

‘Father’ she greets him and then feeling gracious,

‘i like the new layout’

There is no response at first and she stands uncomfortable and annoyed until the quiet voice responds.

‘It has been like this for quite some time. I find it dull to stay in one room that never changes. Perhaps it is time i do it again’

Luthien holds herself back from responding ‘maybe you should just leave your room more often’. It would be unkind and unmannerly to speak to her father like that and mother would be displeased.

Her mother is too kind to him, Luthien thinks, too gracious for her own good.

‘ you must not blame him, my beauty’ she would cry ‘your father loves you dearly but ever does his heart bemoan the loss of his kinsmen.’ Luthien thinks Melian gives him too much credit. It has been millennia since the Dark Valar wiped out the Eldar children of Eru and no matter how tragic that may have been, he cannot mourn for them forever.

At least not at the expense of his current family, she thinks darkly.

Grief has left her father a cold and bitter man. Rarely does he smile and rarer yet at Luthien or her siblings.

‘His kinsmen’ she remembers with a startle. That is why she came.

‘Father’ she says ‘there is news. Eol is to be wed’

There was a pause before he spoke back.

‘Eol’ he repeated sounding no more interested than before. ‘Is that so’

‘That is your son’ she thought ‘at least pretend to care’

‘Indeed’ she replied instead with a fake smile ‘but that is not the only news. The maiden he weds is of the eldar’

Now that got his attention.

Her father puts his charcoal down suddenly with a clacking noise and makes no effort to stop it as it rolls onto the floor. he turns to face her for the first time since she entered his room.

‘An elleth?’ He said ‘are you certain?’

‘I have seen her with my own eyes. A fair lady dressed in white clothing, structured and complicated in a way i have not seen before. Dark is her skin and darker her hair. Eol found her lost and confused and injured, when he realised what she was, he lead her further in the forest where it is safer’ The story slides of her tongue quickly, it is not often she has this much of his attention ‘My brother has found himself quite enamoured with her and mother has given them permission to wed. She couldn’t very well say no considering she herself married an ellon’

He did not respond immediately. His silver grey eyes were unblinking and searched Luthien’s face eagerly as if searching for a hint of lies or mockery. His pale hands smudged from his sketching were clutched tightly around the frame of his chair.

‘An elleth’ he repeated ‘your mother said i was the last of my kind, are you telling me that my lady wife is a liar?’

Any strange spark of joy she felt at his attention vanished and she bristled. How dare he imply her mother was a liar. Only he would twist her words in such a way. She spoke again in a more curt, biting tone.

‘Not at all. Mother believes that the girl must have been kept prisoner by the dark lords in Mordor. Poor thing. Otherwise mother would have seen her and told you of her’

‘Of course’ said her father, blank faced again as he pushed back his chair and stood ‘take me to this girl. I should very much like to meet her’

‘The maiden still rests from her weariness, you will meet her at the ceremony. Your presence there is required, I shall send the servants up with appropriate garments for the occasion, until then you may remain here if you so wish’

And with that Luthien turned from him and made her way out of the chambers leaving her father standing alone behind her.

#ooooh I love this idea #and you wrote it so well #elwe nooo #dark melian au #fics to remember #silmarillion #elu thingol #melian #luthien

[aotearoa20]

éowyn absolutely swears. uncontested. she was raised around horse lovers and those fucking animals will make even the most patient lose their minds. faramir is surprised when éowyn drops a bowl of herbs or something and she just swears in the most colourful way he's ever heard a woman swear. he's kinda into it

[aotearoa20]

i want 60 thousand votes by next thursday

#yes maam

[aotearoa20]

at the start of the game karlach and astarion are absolutely fucking reeling from being suddenly freed and are in a state of manic joy that would probably seem alien to them like a week ago, while gale has been locked in his depression tower for so long he's almost completely forgotten how to talk to people. shadowheart has not a single fucking clue whats going on because shar keeps slurping up her memories and lae'zel is literally in the midst of her ultimate nightmare scenario and trapped on an alien planet with a bunch of jackasses who have no idea whats happening. so almost everyone has experienced a situational personality shift and isn't quite the person they were a year before you met them. EXCEPT Wyll. Who is just like "this isnt even the weirdest thing thats happened to me this month." my man got scooped up, tadpoled, and slammed back and said "oh well, not gonna ruin my day" and went about his business teaching self defense to children and slaying evil beasts. He didn't even seem confused he literally did not give a shit. no urgency. He's like "I'll put that in my day planner but is gonna have to wait until after i hunt down this demon." When you recruit him there is no sense of "oh man we really gotta help each other because we have the same problem" he just would have said yes because you asked and he's wyll. Or because you told him he could kill mindflayers. He'd be like "sick" and done, no questions asked. Just another Tuesday for the blade.

[aotearoa20]

I think this person's son is Jonathan Harker

[aotearoa20]

Turgon: Im confused, we're being impulsive are you supposed to kick or knock down the door when you're being impulsive

Aredhel: Knock with your foot!

Turgon: Brilliant.

#turgon #aredhel #in her eelement #Being a bad influence #house of fingolfin #silmarillion #tolkien #incorrect silmarillion quotes

[aotearoa20]

brothers

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[aotearoa20]

“You may see it!” said he. “It is this!” and he drew forth the Arkenstone, and threw away the wrapping.

The Elvenking himself, whose eyes were used to things of wonder and beauty, stood up in amazement … It was as if a globe had been filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net woven of the glint of frosty stars.

[aotearoa20]

Finrod was not feeling well.

Everything felt too bright and too dull at the same time. He managed only to drag himself to the window and close the curtains, and then to drop back into his bed; covered himself in all the blankets he could gather and still felt awfully cold and dizzy.

Outside was raining, and the weather made his bones ache with pains of past life and the scars on his chest and hands to itch. It all made Finrod want to become very small and very little and to be far, far away from everything.

He shut his eyes. There were things he needed to do today, he knew; visitors he had to take in, old acquintances from Nargothrond who he agreed to meet with today. But he was feeling awful, and the thought of getting up and facing other people made him almost want to sob.

He felt very immature, and very foolish. But his body was weary, and refused to get up. It was as if he was chained all over again; familiar hopelessness settled into his chest, and he shuddered.

The clock on the wall said it was just the time for breakfast.

His house was a quiet one, in the more secluded part of Tirion, and he lived alone. His parents' palace was always open for him; but it could grow busy, and he loved to have a place to himself. Now he regretted the decision to spend the week here. He wasn't feeling well from yesterday; he was caught in the rain returning from the market, and spent the evening shivering, but he did not think the sickness would get to him in the night.

He was only bitter it happenned now, when he did not even have a messanger to inform the people he invited he was in no state to see them today. He thought of reaching out to Finarfin, or Eärwen; but his mind was too weary, and his thoughts too tangled.

The last thing he remembered was his eyelids growing more and more heavy, and his skin getting more and more hot; until his eyes finally shut closed, and he gave in to the uneasy sleep that found him.

***

He woke up slowly to the sound of someone's voice calling him.

"Good," it crooned, and it was soft and soothing and familiar. "There you are."

The rain was still falling outside. Finrod opened his eyes; saw Finarfin looking right back at him, brushing his hand at Finrod's forehead.

Finrod clasped his father's hand, feeling weak and very tired, and pressed it to his face.

"Atya," he mumbled. Finarfin sat by his side; put his head into his lap. Finrod sunk into his presence; noted dully the clatter of kitchenware coming from downstairs.

"Hush," Finarfin said, and lifted Finrod's head ever so slightly, pressing a glass with something warm to Finrod's lips and coaxing him to drink. It was warm soup, Finrod registered; and felt some warmth return into his bones. "I was right to worry about you today. I'm glad your mother and I decided to take a longer route on our way from the palace and check on you."

"What hour is it?" Finrod mumbled, and tried to sit up—but Finarfin held him down softly, and Finrod had no strength to fight back. "I had—I had a meeting today."

"It is way past lunch," Finarfin said. Then, slipping into Finrod's thoughts, his voice softening: "Your meeting is tomorrow, jewel. You need not worry; I will make sure it is moved a day or two if you do not feel better, yonya."

"Oh," Finrod said, and felt the tips of his ears grow red with embarassment. "Oh. Alright."

He heard Finarfin's quiet laugh, and closed his eyes. "I wil sleep some more, then," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Always," Finarfin murmured in response, caressing Finrod's hair. "Sleep well, yonya."

He started humming a quiet melody; it wrapped over Finrod, and ran over the edges of his mind, and soothed the fever just a little bit.

Finrod drifted away, and dreamed of sea, and sea-shells, and crabs hiding between the rocks, and for a moment forgot about the fever and pain, both past and present.

[aotearoa20]

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Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

(n/a)

Panel 2

Mina: Nothing but dead ends so far…

Panel 3

Jack: There’s no reason to believe he lingered after those break-ins. He could be anywhere by now.

Panel 4

Terrier: BarkBARKbarkBARKbarkBARKbarkBARK

Panel 5

Arthur: Whoa, now! What is it, Lady?

Lady: BarkBARKbark

Panel 6

Jonathan: I think she’s looking at that man over there.

Arthur: ?

Panel 7

Arthur (offscreen): …What man?

#the... the naked one Jonathan?

[aotearoa20]

some sketches for an old au of mine, where Maeglin survives Gondolin and flees from Morgoth’s forces hunting him. He has a run in with the Feanorians in one of the elven cities and is recognized as an Angband thrall/spy. To save his own life, he bargains with his ability to recreate Angrist and to share what plans of Morgoth’s he’d been privy to.

Vibes partly inspired by this track from Rurouni Kenshin