#BLESS YOU MR TOLKIEN!

[thranduilswifesblog]

Is it beautiful, a random thing you do brough so many memories to you

Today I found an old box in my house, I open it, and turns out it's all my gowns from my birthday from I was 5 til I was 10.

When I was 6 I asked my father I want a gown like Arwen, he promised me he will buy a gown who looks like Arwen's one in each year for my birthday. And he did it. For my 6 birthday he bought me a purple gown who kinda looks like arwen's dream dress, and for my 7 he bought lady Galadriel's white gown, and 8 he bought me Arwen's wedding dress with different colour, and for 9 he gave me Eowyn's and the last he gave me Arwen's deleted scene dress. The purple one.

All the good memories came to my mind, he used to called me "my undomiel" Cause I naturally raven hair, and in my 6th birthday he makes my hair looks like arwen's in the dream scene. And ten I decided to rewatched the trilogy, and tears is flowing trough my eyes when I heard evenstar theme, and lothlorien theme.

Isn't it beautiful, a movies can make a big impact in your life, in your memories as a child, and when you remember those years you spend growing up watching them. I don't know if that the tears of hapiness, or sadness, or I just being dramatic cause I'm on my period LOL. But still...

I'm ugly sobbing watching the entire trilogy today 😭

#the lord of the rings #the hobbit #rings of power #elrond #hugo weaving #peter jackson #OMG AND NOW #I'M CRYING #WHILE WROTE THIS BLOG! #BLESS YOU PETER JACKSON! #BLESS YOU MR TOLKIEN! #😭😭😭

[sotwk]

I've always thought that the reason for Tolkien elves losing interest in sex after having the kids that they want is a by-product of his Catholicism. My mum was raised Catholic and she says that she was raised to believe that children were the thing that redeemed sex and that ideally sex wouldn't happen at all. (Idk if that's a universal experience but it was hers) So it makes sense that Tolkien's elves, as 'higher' more spiritual beings would be less sexual beings and so would not partake in sex after they'd had their kids. (Which is why I ignore that particular titbit of Tolkien lore😉)

Ooof! I'm quite familiar with Catholic teachings on sex, and it sounds like the values your mom grew up with were quite extreme! (Religious values and beliefs run across a very wide spectrum, but let's not invite debates on that!) That sounds a lot more like something Mrs. Kim from Gilmore Girls would say. LOL.

I admit I lean more towards the puritan, "higher being" interpretation of Elves, especially the Calaquendi who have seen the Light of the Trees. There has to be something that distinguishes them from the other Middle-earth races, and temperance when it comes to carnal needs and urges (i.e. sex, food), is one of those characteristics. So yes, Elves are less interested in sex than Dwarves, Hobbits, but especially Men, but even their appetites vary within their race.

When it comes to the SotWK AU's interpretation of Thranduil and his Elvenqueen wife, Maereth, here is a rundown of my take on it:

(My headcanons are mostly guided by what was written in the LaCE, because I'm a Type-A nerd who likes rules and manuals, but these are just MY interpretation of it. It's not hardline LaCE compliant either, and regardless, my takes are neither canon nor law!)

Thranduil and Maereth are descendants of Calaquendi, but had not made the journey themselves. Technically, Maereth is closer to the Light of the Trees and arguably more "blessed" in that manner, since her mother was born in Tirion (Valinor), as opposed to Oropher who never completed the journey.

Thranduil was always more free-spirited ("as wild as one of Araw’s Kine", Oropher described him in my fic "The Crown") than the average Sinda, and over the years became even more alike the Silvan people he ruled over.

Silvans are culturally more sexual than the Sindar or Noldor, not necessarily in the sense of being promiscuous, but rather that they take more pleasure in the act itself as way of bonding with their partners, not just for the sake of begetting children.

The Silvans do not lose interest in sex even after thousands of years, and are able to retain monogamous relationships with their partners because Elven bonds (platonic, familial, romantic, etc.) are as enduring as their physical immortality.

This is what helps the Silvan/Greenwood population endure through the millennia, throughout the "Mirkwood" dark ages, and into the Fourth Age and beyond in Eryn Lasgalen. They keep having sex, keep reproducing, and their population is sustained even through attacks and wars.

Oh, and culturally, the Silvans also love children and celebrate the process of raising them as a community. That's a key factor in their population growth too.

Thranduil and Maereth are, foregoing more eloquent terms, absolutely bananas for each other. Epic, epic, love along the vein of Professor Tolkien's love for his wife Edith, and its parallel romance--Beren and Lúthien. Could you imagine Lúthien replacing or loving anyone other than Beren? (I guess you can imagine anything in fandom, but I hope you get my point.) Well, it's the same with Thranduil and his Elvenqueen. It's a rather unpopular take on his love life, but that's how it is at least in the SotWK AU.

So yeah, they never tire of each other and never stop wanting each other, in any way, by any definition. They naturally stop begetting children after Legolas (their 5th), but the lovemaking definitely continues.

Sorry for the delay in this response, Anon--I hope you're still able to see and read this. And I hope the uncalled-for infodump makes it better, not worse! LOL. Thank you for the Ask!

#sotwk answers #anon asks #kind anons #i have the best anons #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #sotwk headcanon #elvenqueen maereth #sotwk ocs #silvan elves #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #tolkien #the hobbit #lotr #tw sex

[marshmyers]

This deluxe hardcover edition of J.R.R. Tolkien's classic prelude to his Lord of the Ringstrilogy contains a short introduction by Christopher Tolkien, a reset text incorporating the most up-to-date corrections, and all of Tolkien's own drawings and full-color illustrations, including the rare "Mirkwood" piece.

J.R.R. Tolkien's own description for the original edition: "If you care for journeys there and back, out of the comfortable Western world, over the edge of the Wild, and home again, and can take an interest in a humble hero (blessed with a little wisdom and a little courage and considerable good luck), here is a record of such a journey and such a traveler. The period is the ancient time between the age of Faerie and the dominion of men, when the famous forest of Mirkwood was still standing, and the mountains were full of danger. In following the path of this humble adventurer, you will learn by the way (as he did) -- if you do not already know all about these things -- much about trolls, goblins, dwarves, and elves, and get some glimpses into the history and politics of a neglected but important period. For Mr. Bilbo Baggins visited various notable persons; conversed with the dragon, Smaug the Magnificent; and was present, rather unwillingly, at the Battle of the Five Armies. This is all the more remarkable, since he was a hobbit. Hobbits have hitherto been passed over in history and legend, perhaps because they as a rule preferred comfort to excitement. But this account, based on his personal memoirs, of the one exciting year in the otherwise quiet life of Mr. Baggins will give you a fair idea of the estimable people now (it is said) becoming rather rare. They do not like noise."

PURCHASE

#laughing boy books #tolkien #middle earth #jrr tolkien #the silmarillion #tolkien reading day #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #bilbo #thorin #thorin oakenshield #hobbits #elves #smaug #smaug the dragon #balin

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read the Hobbit! Chapters 13 & 14

Wow so Tears of the Kingdom sure happened. I don't know what to do with my life now that I'm no longer ridiculously obsessive, but I guess I should become literate again? It seems like I should just be 100%-ing both Switch Zeldas but... it would be nice to finish something.

In the meanwhile, the dwarves sat in darkness, and utter silence fell about them.

Am I supposed to think this isn't their natural habitat? Are they not dwarves? Isn't mining their chief activity?

But somehow, just when the dwarves were most despairing, Bilbo felt a strange lightening of the heart, as if a heavy weight had gone from under his waistcoat.

I was going to joke that this is just because Bilbo is competent and no one else is, but to be fairer to the dwarves really this has something to do with the fact that Bilbo can be invisible and thus has way better odds of surviving anything than them. I'd be despairing too, despite Bilbo's quoting his dad.

At length Mr. Baggins could bear it no longer. “Confound you, Smaug, you worm!” he squeaked aloud. “Stop playing hide-and-seek! Give me a light, and then eat me, if you can catch me!”

Past Bilbo is of course having conniptions at the thought of addressing a dragon in any way, let alone this way in particular.

As Thorin carefully explained, Mr. Baggins was still officially their expert burglar and investigator.

Y'all really should have checked his references. "Hobbit fact: All hobbits are expert burglars!" is probably something Gandalf said when he was seven cups and six bowls in.

His small hand would not close about it, for it was a large and heavy gem; but he lifted it, shut his eyes, and put it in his deepest pocket.

"Is that an Arkenstone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" - a small taste of the Hobbit smut fic I will never, ever write, much to humanity's relief

All the same he had an uncomfortable feeling that the picking and choosing had not really been meant to include this marvellous gem, and that trouble would yet come of it.

You can tell that the Shire is meant to be where England will end up by the confidence in which its inhabitants claim the sacred cultural artifacts of others for their own use.

“Now what on earth or under it has happened?” said Thorin. “Certainly not the dragon, or he would not go on squeaking.”

Thorin is going to be a dick to the end, I see. So many more charitable verbs my dude.

The dwarves indeed no longer needed any urging. All were now eager to explore the hall while they had the chance, and willing to believe that, for the present, Smaug was away from home.

Okay my bros but what about the immediate future? This is not the time to get all gold lusty. There's a dragon on the loose! Or at least, you think there is, and that's dangerous enough.

With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel, which the elves call mithril, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel, and studded about the brim with white gems, was set upon the hobbit’s head.

Hey, this'll be relevant later. But also, a belt of pearls and crystals? That hardly seems practical, even by elvish standards.

“I would give a good many of these precious goblets,” he thought, “for a drink of something cheering out of one of Beorn’s wooden bowls!”

Way to be blatant about your messaging, Tolkien.

“This is the great chamber of Thror,” said Thorin; “the hall of feasting and of council. Not far off now is the Front Gate.”

Seems like an odd combination. The place is great as a hall of feasting; huge and blessed with fresh air. But is it good for council? I'd prefer a more intimate setting myself.

They passed through the ruined chamber. Tables were rotting there; chairs and benches were lying there overturned, charred and decaying. Skulls and bones were upon the floor among flagons and bowls and broken drinking-horns and dust.

All joking aside, Tolkien does ruin beautifully, doesn't he?

“How far is that?” asked the hobbit. “Five hours march, I should think.”

Not to sound too much like a hobbit, but if you're not getting to eat until afternoon, it's hardly breakfast is it? Not that this is Balin's fault; you really can't be too careful about your choice of eatery when a dragon's on the loose.

“That won’t be till Smaug’s dead,” said Bilbo glumly. “In the meanwhile where is he? I would give a good breakfast to know. I hope he is not up on the Mountain looking down at us!”

If GRRM wrote this book, this is exactly when they'd be immolated by Smaug, directly above them. Luckily, the real dramatic irony is that Smaug is already dead!

If you want to know what cram is, I can only say that I don’t know the recipe; but it is biscuitish, keeps good indefinitely, is supposed to be sustaining, and is certainly not entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as a chewing exercise.

For those of you who read this description and think, "Finally, something more bland than pilot bread for my easily overstimulated taste buds!", check out Feast of Starlight's recipe which can be found on most major search engines.

...really, you insist on being linked? Very well. Here you go.

In all their talk they came perpetually back to one thing: where was Smaug? They looked West and there was nothing, and East there was nothing, and in the South there was no sign of the dragon, but there was a gathering of very many birds.

Obviously he clipped through the ground and is now flying through the infinite void. Keep up boys. But anyway, they have no idea and set out and we cut to another chapter, stepping back in time a little.

“Perhaps the King under the Mountain is forging gold,” said another. “It is long since he went North. It is time the songs began to prove themselves again.”

This seems remarkably optimistic, but I suppose spending generations under the shadow of a dragon and having almost nothing bad happen ever makes one numb to the threats.

“You are always foreboding gloomy things!” said the others. “Anything from floods to poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!”

This is too real and I now hope that all these Laketown idiots die like the climate change deniers they are. Sadly, it's not to be.

Every vessel in the town was filled with water, every warrior was armed, every arrow and dart was ready, and the bridge to the land was thrown down and destroyed, before the roar of Smaug’s terrible approach grew loud, and the lake rippled red as fire beneath the awful beating of his wings.

Of all the things that gets ripped off from the Legendarium, why not more Laketowns? Beautifully scenic, defensive, and easily fireproof one way or another. Dear fantasy writers, please steal Laketown more often.

No fireworks you ever imagined equalled the sights that night.

I dunno, this one New Year's Eve the university accidentally set off all of its fireworks at once and it was the most spectacular five minute performance of fireworks I ever saw.

Fire leaped from thatched roofs and wooden beam-ends as he hurtled down and past and round again, though all had been drenched with water before he came. Once more water was flung by a hundred hands wherever a spark appeared. Back swirled the dragon. A sweep of his tail and the roof of the Great House crumbled and smashed down. Flames unquenchable sprang high into the night. Another swoop and another, and another house and then another sprang afire and fell; and still no arrow hindered Smaug or hurt him more than a fly from the marshes.

Good, everyone except Bard deserves this.

He was a descendant in long line of Girion, Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had escaped down the Running River from the ruin long ago.

You know, this info might have been better placed in the chapter where the dwarves were in Laketown instead of this guy only being introduced properly now. It's kinda outta nowhere.

The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by the left breast where the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft and feather, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin.

RIP Smaug. You deserved better than to go out like a Legend of Zelda boss to a DMPC, but it was not to be. Hopefully some other dragons in the Legendarium did some damage.

But they had really much to be thankful for, had they thought of it, though it could hardly be expected that they should just then: three quarters of the people of the town had at least escaped alive; their woods and fields and pastures and cattle and most of their boats remained undamaged; and the dragon was dead.

It takes surviving a special kind of war to go, "Yeah only 1 in every 4 people you ever knew are dead, that's a lot to be thankful for." I for one, will be grateful that my wish came one quarter true.

“In the Lake-town we have always elected masters from among the old and wise, and have not endured the rule of mere fighting men.

I mean I'm all for forcibly retiring the elderly as much as the next person who's spent their whole lives struggling under the Boomer Gerontocracy, but I can't really get behind the whole "Fuck elections" thing.

That said the Master is totally asking for his being deposed.

Who obtained of us rich gifts and ample help, and led us to believe that old songs could come true? Who played on our soft hearts and our pleasant fancies? What sort of gold have they sent down the river to reward us? Dragon-fire and ruin!

He's not even wrong, which is impressive.

Then even as he was speaking, the thought came into his heart of the fabled treasure of the Mountain lying without guard or owner, and he fell suddenly silent.

Did Sauron make the Arkenstone? I mean damn it's got more of a pull than the titular dude's soon-to-be titular jewelry.

Many took ill of wet and cold and sorrow that night, and afterwards died, who had escaped uninjured from the ruin of the town; and in the days that followed there was much sickness and great hunger.

One wonders what percentage of the town dropped dead this time. It sounds like quite a large number. Not so much to be thankful for, is it? Unless you're me. Maybe another quarter died! Wish half true!

Even before the Elvenking rode forth the news had passed west right to the pinewoods of the Misty Mountains; Beorn had heard it in his wooden house, and the goblins were at council in their caves.

It's a Mirkwood Wide Web! Convenient for drama, but also cool in its esoteric nature.

...he was the lord of a good and kindly people...

Was he? The last we saw, they spent ages tormenting the dwarves and Bilbo with magic feasts and whatnot. Seems to me that they're helping out for fear that if Laketown doesn't recover their booze imports could be interrupted more than any particular kindness.

It was thus that in eleven days from the ruin of the town the head of their host passed the rock-gates at the end of the lake and came into the desolate lands.

And that's two more chapters! As we're now some ways ahead of Bilbo and crew, the question remains: how many breakfasts has Bilbo missed since we last saw him? We'll find out next time. Thank goodness I'm not into Diablo or this reread would really take awhile.

#the hobbit #j r r tolkien #let's read #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bard #thranduil

[theseventhoffrostfall]

Have you ever read The Fifteen Decisive Battles or whatever? It's pretty outdated and people will reeee over it being a British historian book on war but Creasys prose is pretty good and at times even like Tolkien. Especially the part here about the battle of Marathon and Plataea marching all night just to be the only city state to join the Athenians before the battle which is one of my favorite tropes when a weak ally sends all that they can so their friends don't fight alone:

"With one exception, the other Greeks held back from aiding them. Sparta had promised assistance; but the Persians had landed on the sixth day of the moon, and a religious scruple delayed the march of Spartan troops till the moon should have reached its full. From one quarter only, and that a most unexpected one, did Athens receive aid at the moment of her great peril.

For some years before this time, the little state of Plataea in Boeotia, being hard pressed by her powerful neighbour, Thebes, had asked the protection of Athens, and had owed to an Athenian army the rescue of her independence. Now when it was noised over Greece that the Mede had come from the uttermost parts of the earth to destroy Athens, the brave Plataeans, unsolicited, marched with their whole force to assist in the defence, and to share the fortunes of their benefactors. The general levy of the Plataeans only amounted to a thousand men: and this little column, marching from their city along the southern ridge of Mount Cithaeron, and thence across the Attic territory, joined the Athenian forces above Marathon almost immediately before the battle. The reinforcement was numerically small; but the gallant spirit of the men who composed it must have made it of tenfold value to the Athenians: and its presence must have gone far to dispel the cheerless feeling of being deserted and friendless, which the delay of the Spartan succours was calculated to create among the Athenian ranks.

This generous daring of their weak but true-hearted ally was never forgotten at Athens. The Plataeans were made the fellow-countrymen of the Athenians, except the right of exercising certain political functions; and from that time forth in the solemn sacrifices at Athens, the public prayers were offered up for a joint blessing from Heaven upon the Athenians, and the Plataeans also. [Mr. Grote observes (vol. iv. p. 484), that "this volunteer march of the whole Plataean force to Marathon is one of the most affecting incidents of all Grecian history." In truth, the whole career of Plataea, and the friendship, strong even unto death, between her and Athens, form one of the most affecting episodes in the history of antiquity. In the Peloponnesian War the Plataeans again were true to the Athenians against all risks and all calculation of self-interest; and the destruction of Plataea was the consequence. There are few nobler passages in the classics than the speech in which the Plataean prisoners of war, after the memorable siege of their city, justify before their Spartan executioners their loyal adherence to Athens"

I'm almost tempted to make a The Virgin Sparta vs the Chad Plataean meme about this

I haven't actually read that but it's going on the list. "weak ally sends all they have" is an underused and absolutely hype thing when it happens, agreed.

The Virgin Sparta is fitting in a lot of ways, honestly. The way their society was structured and new ranks of the warrior-aristocracy raised was pretty self-evidently flawed and that it lead to Sparta's slide into irrelevance and obscurity surprises pretty much no one in hindsight. It doesn't help that there are certain styles of warfare that benefit greatly from warrior-aristocracy trained-from-birth models, and hoplite line tactics really isn't one of them

[apesoformythoughts]

@to-the-fishies replied to your post:

Hullo, I am listening Attentively

We’re told that Denniston is involved with Distributism, so I’ll take that and say he and Camilla are Catholic (because GKC and because why not). You know what? Since Ransom is a philologist and a friend of Lewis’s (Tolkien tribute), let me go right ahead and say he’s Catholic, too.

They have a priest celebrate Mass at the manor’s chapel (which might as well belong to a line of Recusant families) on Sundays, but they have a dispensation to keep a Consecrated Host there (so they and Merlin sat before the Blessed Sacrament in preparation for the mission).

Mrs. Maggs and the Dimbles are Anglican. Miss Ironwood is Anglo-Catholic.

#of course Merlin’s Catholic #he didn’t know any other church #that hideous strength #a peso for my headcanons #(never thought I’d use that tag)

[darktiger57]

fuck it fantasy high the last stand live blog

a tolkien skateboarding pun? mr mulligan i am in love

STAMP THAT SHIT!!

oooo extra credit

speak friend and enter brennan is such a fucking nerd this is great

siobhan has read lotr like 3000 times??? incredible

they have really kicked these monsters asses

GAVVY BABY

the manticore clocked fig as the proctor "both good and bad" she probably has more health than him at least

a FIVE MINUTE CHALLENGE??

A THREE HUNDRED WORD ESSAY??? WHAT THE FUCK???

the toss to riz nice

only 100 words good thing they stamped it

ADAINE!! theyre friends your honor

i think disassembling and reassembling a car to make it go the other direction is a good idea

COOK THAT SHRIMP COOK THAT SHRIMP COOK THAT SHRIMP

a solar avenging angel fiend. fantastic

ZAC IS BLESSED ANOTHER NAT 20

and shrimp dragon is prone

ANOTHER CRIT TWO CRITS

damn bro

SIXTY-FOUR DAMAGE *damn* i forget how high level they are sometimes

heh. lie down for 8 hours

banishment is so clutch(as long as kristen doesn't lose concentration)

fig the bug zapper incredible

adaine with the scatter incredible thats so cool i've never heard of that spell thats so cool

"he's 'armless" siobhan thompson i would die for you

"actually you got a crit" SIOBHAN THOMPSON

87 POINTS OF DAMAGE INCREDIBLE

ANOTHER NAT 20 FROM ZAC WHAT THE FUCK INCREDIBLE

"thanks rick"

"oh no you made a bunch of little bombs" INCREDIBLE

A NAT 1 AND A NAT 20 IN THE SAME ROLL INCREDIBLE ZAC

this is such a complicated battle

LET'S GO HANGMAN

i really want some crab legs now

ANOTHER CRIT FROM ZAC HOLY SHIT

OH SHIT BUDDY??? RIP

a divine intervention would’ve been so clutch there

thats fucking crazy

and the ochre jellies move another 40ft

uh oh gorgug

so tense

RIZ LETS GO

this is stressful

"damnit these monsters have names" yeah and that name is butter gummies

it's love. now.

they should get a beer from gavin

6 teenagers with their hands full of vulture guts explaining how they went to the vulture dimension incredible

what an episode wow. one of the best and most interesting combat episodes i've seen

#fhjy spoilers

[offtorivendell]

A Long-Expected Party: Part I, The Fellowship of the Fling

Otherwise known as Elain's Eleventy-First Birthday Bash

This was written for @nikethestatue, and inspired by our joint love of anything The Lord of the Rings and Elriel, with a side of my own experience in throwing a surprise 21st for a loved one.

Read it on AO3, if you'd prefer.

Credit:

My endless gratitude goes out to the amazing @gopeachllama for being my beta.

Thank you to the lovely @wingedblooms for naming Elain's dagger.

The orphanage that Elain volunteers at was inspired by @nikethestatue 's own wonderful, ongoing multi-chapter fic, Of Fawns and Shadows.

The first part of the prologue was heavily inspired by the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, and other easter eggs are included throughout the rest of the fic (all chapters).

'Andwise' was the name of Samwise Gamgee's uncle.

Parts II and III to come.

Disclaimer: based on the characters and world owned by SJM, with a splash of Tolkien.

Trigger warnings: language, discussion of non-canon death of a character.

PROLOGUE

When Mr. Azriel Archeron, Shadowsinger and Spymaster to the Night Court (as well as Prince of the Court of Nightmares) quietly announced that he and his wife would shortly be celebrating her eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement around the land. None of it within earshot of the birthday-fae herself, though, as everyone understood that Azriel and his family intended to surprise Elain with a night she would never forget.

Elain was very kind and very friendly, if a little peculiar in her choice of husband, and had become beloved by the people of Velaris, the Court of Nightmares, and Rosehall’s local village alike over the last eighty odd years, ever since the remarkable events that surrounded her being turned from a human into a High Fae, and the two resulting wars, became known. Not the whole story (never that), but enough that she, along with Feyre and Nesta, had become a local legend, and it was popularly believed that the three Archeron sisters, all now faeries, were blessed. And if that was not enough for fame, there was also her unnervingly accurate visions--touched by the Mother, was the whispered conclusion--not to mention her incredible healing magic and skill with potions; those whom she treated often marvelled that it was as if they had ‘been reborn.’

There were some who shook their heads and thought that this was too much of a good thing; it seemed unfair that any one faerie should possess (apparently) perpetual goodness and a (reputedly) inexhaustible healing power. Others, though, believed that Elain, who was generous with both her time and magic, helping with community gardens and baking for local charities in addition to her duties as a member of the High Family, along with her sisters, to be one of the best things to happen to the Night Court in many a century.

***

Long before Nesta had decided to celebrate her own one hundred and eleventh birthday, over a year earlier, all three Archeron sisters had learnt that the milestone was akin to a human's twenty-first birthday, which both Nesta and Elain had neglected to mark, as their means at the time had not extended to a Sunday roast, let alone something so grand and frivolous as a birthday party. Elain hadn't even had real flowers when she turned twenty-one, as the harsh January weather had made any attempts to grow or procure them either impossible, or outlandishly expensive. The closest she had ever come to flowers for her birthday were the seeds that Feyre would gift her when she could, often bought the year before and hidden away, or wooden figurines that her father had carved for her when he'd had the inclination.

Suffice it to say that Azriel, on learning his wife--for that is what Elain insisted on being called, no matter that they were also carranam--had missed her true twenty-first birthday out of necessity rather than desire, went straight to her sisters the next chance he got, followed by her two closest friends, and began planning a party for their nearest and dearest, that ended up expanding in scope to include their local town, and friends far and wide. He knew he couldn’t change the past, but he could make up for the lost experience, if nothing else.

After all, Azriel thought, Elain, who baked and cooked and prepared gardens for everyone else's major life events, surely deserved such an experience for herself.

PART I - The Fellowship of the Fling

Being the year of Nesta Archeron’s 111th birthday; approximately 85 years after the defeat of the Death Lord Koschei, which heralded the Third Age of Prythian, otherwise known as the Age of Harmony (between faeries and humans).

Nesta's good friend and fellow Valkyrie, Emerie, had once asked, decades earlier, whether Elain and Nesta would each have a seventy-fifth birthday celebration (the age at which the High Fae, at least, were considered 'mature') but the Archeron sisters had been adamant that it would be strange to celebrate a milestone that they had technically passed long before being turned. So, in order to ascertain whether or not Elain would view the High Fae version of a human’s twenty-first birthday in the same light, Azriel first sought out the opinions of her sisters.

It had been nigh on impossible to see Feyre or Nesta absent Elain for the month before Nesta’s celebration so, fortuitously spying his wife’s sisters getting in some light sparring at the training pit on top of the House of Wind the morning after Nesta’s own party, Azriel gently banked, letting his wings stretch wide; the coastal currents caught the powerful membranes, making them sing, as he coasted in to land cleanly at the edge of the ring, shadows trailing in his wake.

Feyre and Nesta had both come a long, long way from their initial lessons in the art of swordplay and, after waving at them to continue to the end of the bout, Az spent the next quarter of an hour listening to the metallic sting of clashing swords as they broke through the up-beat orchestral music that flowed from Nesta’s symphonia, enjoying the lightly briny air, and appreciating the fluidity of the sisters' movements, their skills with the Illyrian long swords that they wielded with ease, using a weathered warrior's keen eye.

When the two steely blue-eyed Archerons finally parted, panting only a little after running through drills, and then a mock battle, to clear the cobwebs of Nesta’s party the night before, Azriel stepped forward into the early morning light, shadows brightening around his shoulders.

"Nice moves you've got there," he quipped with a small smile. "Your teachers must be very proud."

Feyre grinned back, eyes bright with mirth, while Nesta simply snorted--his shadows skittering at the sound--and tapped her symphonia to silence it.

Az had slowly realised that, ever since Elain had chosen him, and he'd allowed her into his world, he was actually comfortable showing more of himself around his family than he had ever been before. He was still a male of few words, as was his nature, but Azriel much preferred this current, relative ease to his closed-off self of almost a century ago.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Nesta responded, monitoring him as closely as she did everyone. The corner of her mouth curling upward was his only warning before she continued, "I would have thought that you and Elain would not be making an appearance until much later today, the way you two were carrying on, out on the balcony last night."

Azriel stilled, shadows writhing against his control as he reigned them in; his cheeks reddened as he found, to his dismay, that he could not blame the harsh wind that usually raged around the training pit at this time of year, for it was unusually absent this morning.

Nesta chuckled, and Feyre outright guffawed.

"Thought no one could see you, hmm? Well, we did. Didn't your friends there let you know?" She gestured at the traitors currently peeking out from behind his shoulders.

His mask now firmly in place, Azriel still cringed internally. They had tried to tell him something, but after he'd ordered them to only interrupt him if something was drastically the matter, they had quietened down, then disappeared once more. He had quickly forgotten them once he resumed his enthusiastic ministrations of Elain’s velvet-soft neck.

Coughing lightly, he decided that simply changing the subject was his best bet. He was used to his brothers' good-natured teasing, but it was still a little odd coming from his two sisters-in-law. Nesta in particular, he found, didn't hold back.

"I was actually here with a question, if I can have a minute or so of your time?"

"Of course," Feyre said, shading her eyes with a lightly callused hand. "I could do with a drink of water. What do you need?"

"Well, it's about Elain--nothing is wrong!" He changed tactics quickly, when both sisters snapped their eyes to his. "I simply needed your opinions on something, both as her sisters, as well as the only other two people to have begun life as humans, before becoming High Fae as adults. Your notion of time, and the significance of its passing, will be closer to hers than mine ever will be."

Nesta’s blue eyes softened, while Feyre’s gaze became curious.

"Spit it out, Az. It can't be that bad."

"It's not, at all." Azriel sighed. "I've just been thinking, recently, about Elain's one hundred and eleventh birthday. I want to surprise her and throw her the party she never had for her twenty-first as a human, the one she deserves, but I don't even know if she'd want it." His eyes slid to Nesta as he continued, "I know that neither of you were interested in throwing the traditional seventy-fifth birthday celebration that the High Fae use, given you had been considered 'of age' for years when you were Made, but you chose to celebrate your one hundred and eleventh birthday last night, even though you were nearing twenty-four when you became High Fae." He paused, not wanting to stir up any bad memories. "Why was that? And do you think Elain would want to celebrate her birthday, when it comes?

Nesta hummed softly, tapping her fingers against the sheathed blade at her hip. "I can't say with complete certainty but, to most humans, a twenty-first birthday is not the same as an eighteenth."

Az arched an eyebrow, and she continued. "At eighteen we are--were--considered adults, but according to an ancient human civilisation, from the Continent, I think, twenty-one was a sacred number, because it signified the point at which a person had completed three of their ten stages of life. Really, though, it's become more of a celebration of the person themself, where friends and family share anecdotes, eat good food and dance the night away. As we did last night." She paused. "Come to think of it, why is one hundred and eleven years significant to the High Fae?"

Azriel blinked. It wasn't often that someone caught him off guard, but Nesta, with a thirst for knowledge only rivalled by Elain and Rhys, was one of those who ranked more likely to accomplish the task. "You know what? I'm not sure if it's based upon a similar principle, or something completely different." He caught himself frowning just in time to clear his expression. "Illyrians don't share the custom, so I'd have to report back to you on that."

Feyre finished her second cup of water, then looked to the sun. Az knew her talents, honed during the years she had hunted to provide for her family, extended to being able to tell the time to within ten minutes of accuracy without a clock, as long as she had a decent view of the sky. It was an impressive skill, even for a member of the High Fae.

"I think she'd love a celebration with her friends and family." She nodded to her eldest sister, "As Nesta said, we would simply be celebrating her, not an irrelevant milestone."

Azriel nodded, the shadows at his shoulders and elbows brightening at his relief. He'd assumed as much himself, but hadn't wanted to risk proving the truth of the famous old adage in the worst possible way. Hurting Elain was always the last thing he ever wanted to do.

"Thank you both. I'll let you get back to it."

Feyre grimaced. "I'm done for the morning, actually. Rhys and I will be spending the day planning Nyx’s increased role in the running of the Night Court."

Az grinned knowingly, as she continued, "He's got a good head on his shoulders, but he'd much rather be running drills and missions in the middle of nowhere with his squad. Which is fine, of course, and Lord Devlon and Cass agree that he's showing great promise--Devlon only grudgingly, obviously--but he needs to know more. Astrid is now studying education, she has grand plans of opening publicly funded schools across the Night Court, and she's only eighty-two. Nyx is coming up to eighty-five; he needs to learn how our Court runs, beyond his beloved Illyrian Mountains."

They were all proud of Nyx, their entire family. Azriel, though he might still have lingering reservations about the people from which he came, had to acknowledge the strides that Cassian, Emerie and Nyx had made in providing equitable access to opportunities for all Illyrians, high-born, females and bastards alike, especially since the Valkyries had permanently relocated their training facilities to a camp just outside Windhaven, much to Devlon's dismay. It had allowed Emerie to reclaim her place in her society, and work from there. It also didn't hurt that Azriel would never forget the moment Devlon had realised that ‘the witch’ would be living in the next valley over, his reaction to the news so comical that Rhys had even commented that the wind would change, and leave him permanently stuck ‘looking like he'd fallen face first into a pile of pegasus shit’ if he wasn’t careful.

Adjusting his wings in preparation for flight, letting them get a feel for the still-gentle air currents wending their way around the ring, Az reminded Elain’s sisters that the party was meant to be a surprise, bid farewell to Nesta, who would be heading back to Illyria with Cassian later that evening, and gave Feyre a quick wave before he strode over to the precipice and threw himself into the morning sky.

Free-falling, shadows streaming behind him like a comet's tail, he snapped his wings open at last and began to regain altitude. Elain hated it when he did that, claiming that the thought of his wings cramping up made her sick with worry during the initial plummet--not that he'd ever done it with her in his arms…well, not more than once, and not from a very tall height at that--but it felt good, to test himself against the self-preservation instincts that he had never quite completely shaken, learning to fly as late as he had. Elain knew this, but still she tightened her lips and went white as death if she saw the display, and embraced him for a little longer than usual the next time she could.

Around fifty years ago, when they had all been holidaying at the cabin one summer, having left Azriel's mother in charge of all their littles--her own grandchildren and 'bonus grandkids' alike--a series of bets between Rhys, Cass and himself had escalated to the point where they had been playing a game they called ‘wings-out chicken’ from the nearest overhang of considerable height. Feyre had realised what was happening, and winnowed herself and Nesta in to watch from the opposite peak, while Elain had used their shadows to join them in witnessing the spectacle. That evening had been… extra enjoyable, to say the least. The complaints from Rhys and Cassian the next morning had left him smug for the rest of the week; the fact that Elain's pretty flush would spread as far down as her chest whenever someone whispered ‘wings-out’ within her earshot ever since was an added bonus.

Like her sisters, Elain had also come a long way from her rigid, stifled upbringing, casting aside her certainty that she had to prove to her mother that she was the perfect lady, even to the grave, but as he could attest himself, old habits die hard; he understood lingering hang-ups. While Elain might not actually care as she used to, she couldn’t help the ingrained reaction. In any case, Az didn’t mind that his wife was a blusher; it had never affected her work on assignments, she looked gorgeous while doing so, and he did love to tease her.

Banking to aim for the River House, where his scheduled weekly meeting with Nuala and Cerridwen took place, Azriel inhaled the fresh coastal air and flew.

***

The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted out of the open windows to greet Az, dancing with the herbal scents from the kitchen garden that Elain still tended for her sister’s household, to create a veritable melody for his senses as he landed silently in the courtyard behind the River House. He could hear a trio of familiar voices inside, Elain and the half wraith twins, as he hurried through the door on cat-soft feet.

Cerridwen was facing the entrance as he appeared, shadows gracing her sides but, accomplished spy that she was, she showed no sign of acknowledging his presence on her face.

No knives, his shadows whispered to him. Only bread. Nuala is in adjoining room. It was safe to proceed, so he stepped forth, silently. Elain, with her back to him, turned a little the second before he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You're off your game, Husband." She chuckled. "Time was, you wouldn't have let me smell you until it was too late."

He grinned into her hair, "Morning, you two."

Cerridwen simply rolled her eyes at him and joined Nuala in the butler's pantry. He’d seek them out later; he was running early, anyway.

He looked down at Elain over her shoulder, as she finished sorting the last of the still-warm bap rolls onto the trays she used to transport them to the local orphanage for Sunday lunches, then pressed herself back into his chest. He felt her relax into him, her upright posture softening to complement his form.

"You've already seen me this morning. Or had you forgotten, in your dotage?" Feigning concern, she hummed. "Maybe it's time to speak to Madja about a nursing home? Our children have barely flown the nest, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to care for another so soon."

Az laughed at that, deep and joyful, and Elain joined in after a beat, turning into him for what she called a ‘proper hug.’ He squeezed her right back, inhaling her scent of jasmine and honey, letting it settle over him like a comforting blanket. He didn't care that they weren't mates, their carranam bond ran deeper than he could ever have imagined, and he could not conceive of loving or needing anyone more than he did Elain. For the two of them, at least, a mating bond would simply be superfluous.

"Feyre dobbed you in."

"Hmm? Oh," he chuckled into the top of her head, catching up. "That was quick. How will you ‘punish’ me this time?"

Right on cue, a deep pink dusted Elain’s cheeks. “Stop it, you.”

Azriel grinned wickedly, “Make me.” A tea towel playfully slapped his thigh in response, so he tightened his grip around her arms. “Not good enough, Archeron. You call that a slap?”

“Let go of me, Mister Archeron. Give me back the use of my arms, and I’ll make you regret those words. You know I will.” Her voice was firm, challenge issued.

It was true. Elain could defend herself with fists and dagger if she must--she carried her own around, a pair to his Truth-Teller, named Sooth-Sayer--but her true skill lay in utilising anything she could find in a kitchen; she could wield a tea towel with unnatural speed and accuracy. It was almost uncanny.

Azriel thought it the most appropriate thing in the world.

“Maybe later,” Azriel whispered, voice low as his hands slid from her arms to the curves of her hips and gripped, just a little harder than was strictly polite; he wasn’t above using his wiles to get what he wanted. He chuckled softly as Elain shuddered in response.

“Speaking of children,” he wondered, “Have our own headed back to their respective holes yet this morning? Or do I actually get to say ‘goodbye’ to them this time?”

Their eldest two, Androsace and Andwise, dark-haired, brown-eyed twins who had graced them with their unanticipated presence less than a year after the war with Hybern finally ended, were off completing courses to further their studies in modern healing techniques; primarily in the Dawn Court, but also wherever they were needed. Androsace, known to her family as Rosa, while possessed of strong healing magic, had chosen to specialise in pharmaceuticals, at least for the moment, and was studying under Nuan, the brilliantly-minded fae he had met shortly after Elain and Nesta were turned. Andwise, or Andy, with a magical strength to match his sister, found he had a natural hand for surgery, and had even taken classes from Dawn’s High Lord Thesan himself. Given the number of toys and gadgets that he had taken apart as a child, this particular skill did not surprise either of his once-exhausted parents. Neither twin had wings, though both had developed their own shadows at around ten years of age--curiously, though, the twins’ shadows were much lighter than Azriel’s ever were. Having grown up with more opportunity than Azriel, they had opted to stay out of their father’s profession, to which news he had been both secretly and massively relieved. He knew they would likely see battlefields as healers, and had ensured that, like their mother, they could defend themselves as required--Rosa in particular had a mean right hook, and Andy was incredibly creative with his shadows--but to not have to worry about them every day was a blessing.

Approximately eight years after they had had their twins, Elain had come across a pair of Illyrian siblings, newly arrived in Velaris’ orphanage, where she had been volunteering since the war against Hybern. Their father had been lost in the final battle against Koschei, and their mother had struggled to provide for them by herself, eventually passing on from a nasty, consumption-like illness--or so Elain had been told. The ten year old boy, Archer, had opted to stay with his eight year old sister, Aerides, or Aeri, out of loyalty, rather than stay in training. He had been heartbroken over the loss of his training, in addition to the death of his remaining parent, but his conscience hadn’t let him abandon her; he was very much like Cassian, in that regard. Knowing their chances of being adopted in Velaris were reduced, due to both age and, sadly, the still prevalent prejudice that existed against Illyrians at the time, and having started to bond with sweet little Aerides almost immediately, Elain had told Azriel that they were coming home with them as soon as possible, and that was that.

After a year at home with the Archerons, Archer--who still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his newly granted surname seventy odd years later, though he hadn’t had one before--had quietly asked to resume his warrior training, wishing to honour his birth father, and finally feeling comfortable enough to leave Aeri in her new home. Archer now had three siphons, and flew in Nyx’s squad as a bowman, the two firm friends, and Aeri had developed a love and talent for baking so strong that she had been accepted into the Winter Court’s prestigious Academy of the Baking Arts, to train as a pâtissier.

Ice-cold fear had torn at Azriel, to let one of his children go so far, especially one of the two who couldn't winnow in any capacity, or wanted anything to do with a warrior’s training past basic self-defence, but the Winter Court had always been stable, excepting the years of Amarantha's reign; Elain, while sad to see Aeri go, had given Azriel a very pointed look and told him he was stifling her. Knowing Elain’s personal history as intimately as he did, this was the last thing he wanted to do to one of his own daughters, so he had simply asked her if she'd consider taking a shadow for emergencies. In true Aeri fashion, however, she had soon discovered that the shadow liked to be worn as a necklace, instead of being left at home or in her satchel, the curious being even going so far as to change decorative charms on its own whim...and so ‘Jewel’ had earnt its name.

Finally, when Archer was twenty-two years old--having just been granted the first of his three siphons--and the twins and Aeri twenty, Elain had discovered, to their joy, that she was pregnant again. Azriel never knew how much of their lives Elain had foreseen, but he didn't ask her to share details, knowing that not only would she always warn them of any emergencies she Saw, but that she also wanted as 'normal' a life as possible. The next spring they had welcomed another daughter, Asphodel, or Della. Unlike the twins, who had primarily inherited their mother’s gift for healing, Della’s magic was pure shadow. She wasn’t as powerful as Azriel, though he suspected it was only a matter of time, as her strength still grew with each passing decade; like Rosa and Andy, her shadows were also brighter than his, though at that time he still could not have told anybody precisely why this was, had they asked (after decades of thought, he had come to the tentative conclusion that Elain’s light had combined with his shadows to create whatever magic it was that had blessed their children). Della had also been born with wings, though, luckily, Elain hadn’t needed any assistance during her birth. They had joked, after her easy pregnancy with Androsace and Andwise, who had turned out to both be...generously-proportioned babes, that Elain was blessed by the Mother herself, but after Asphodel and her wings had been born without any issue at all, their jokes became more like reverent praise. True to her adventurous nature, Della had flitted around between dreams, sampling as much of life as she could. When she was in her fifties, after achieving a well-rounded education, even if none of it was specifically vocational, she had finally spoken to Nesta about becoming a Valkyrie. Now in her early sixties, she was a fully fledged Valkyrie, who also worked as a junior agent in the Night Court’s intelligence program.

After his earlier relief at the twins staying out of his chosen-for-him field, Azriel had felt like it was some sort of peculiarly nasty cosmic joke at his expense. That being said, once Della decided on a course of action with her whole heart, there was never any changing her mind. So, with a father’s innate desire to protect balanced by the knowledge he couldn’t do so forever, he had taken her under his wing (pun absolutely intended, thank you very much, his children groaned every time he used it) and given her the best grounding that he could in training her shadows in communication, self-defence and winnowing at a second’s notice, as well as a battery of highly intricate flying maneuvers that her smaller wingspan allowed her to complete with more ease than he and his brothers had ever managed.

Elain chuckled, bringing him back to the present as she shook her head. “All five of them are at Rosehall with Mama; they’ll scatter to the four winds tomorrow morning, according to Aeri. Della will winnow her back to Winter, before she collects Archer and goes with him to Windhaven and the Valkyrie camp.”

“Excellent. Family dinner tonight, then?”

“That’s the plan, Mama already knows to expect us at six o'clock, barring any emergencies.” Azriel loved that Elain was close enough with his mother to use his pet name for her. He knew her own hadn’t been kind to her--to any of the sisters, for different reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom--but she had come to love Azriel’s own mother almost immediately, just as his Mama had with her.

“Now, I’ll give you my report on the firm tomorrow morning, as we planned. I have to get this bread over to the orphanage for lunch before I check on my next batch of potions, and it’s already almost nine. If I’m not careful, it’ll be ten o’clock before I know it and I still won’t have moved an inch.”

After the war against Koschei, and learning that she and Nesta both had the unique ability to unMake mating bonds, Elain had started up a new branch of the Night Court’s intelligence operations that aimed to help any fae who didn't want to accept, or remain in, their own bond, to escape to the Night Court where she and Nesta would unMake the bonds if they wished, or they would be offered sanctuary in a facility similar to the library that had helped Nesta so much. It had taken two decades to see any regular work, and even then, not many faeries felt comfortable contacting them, given the ingrained nature of the mating bond in their culture, but Elain and Lucien, who had both felt trapped in their own bond, but were now good friends, kept an eye out for fae in need wherever they went. Lucien travelled far and wide in his role as part-time emissary and heir apparent of the Day Court, as well as consort to Vassa, to whom he'd tied his life in order to save her from Koschei and his curse. After Tamlin’s death, Vassa, together with Lucien, ruled over the now-combined Spring Court and human lands, which had since become a home for all exiles, not to mention a mecca to those from the Continent, who wanted to see what Vassa and Lucien had done to make their veritable melting pot bubble along happily, rather than boil over.

Luckily, Lucien’s true father, Helion, was still in high health, with a powerful grip on his land, though neither Elain nor Azriel envied Lucien his loyalty to so many Courts, or the decision that he'd likely face when the time eventually came; they were both impressed with his ability to keep on top of everything as it was.

Elain herself went on biannual visits to the Continent, both in her capacity as Princess of the Hewn City and one of the Night Court’s own emissaries. Her unassuming nature and innate charm made her the perfect agent to gather intel in plain sight, as no one, especially in such strongly patriarchal societies, suspected the pretty, beguiling female to possess such a keen eye or sharp mind, let alone the gumption to put those skills to use; she was also a frequent visitor to local temples, letting it be known that she had become quite devout in her worship of the Mother, so her meetings with any fleeing faeries, and the priestesses who helped them out, didn't draw much attention to their underground operation. Keeping it a secret was safest for everyone involved.

It went without saying, though, that he was so, so proud of his incredible wife…which was another card they kept hidden up their shared sleeve. Their carranam bond was known only by their family and most trusted friends, with Azriel and Elain simply calling each other 'husband' and 'wife,' so her ability to use his shadows in her work gave her an upper hand that no one on the Continent yet suspected. The thought always made him smile; he had never contemplated sharing his magic, or expected doing so to feel quite so personal, so much so that he would not have wanted this bond with any other.

Unable to resist, Azriel caressed her curves once more, one hand going to the dip of her waist, the other finding her bottom and giving it a good squeeze while he ran his nose down her neck, inhaling deeply. “Oh, my dear wife, I think I could get you to move by more than an inch.”

Elain shuddered lightly, but in the end she only sighed, placing her hands on his chest as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “It’s a wonder I can get anything done, living with you.”

He bent down to let her kiss him, while she rose up to the tips of her toes to meet him halfway, before taking a step back.

“I really do have to get these rolls to the orphanage well before lunch. Children are more demanding customers than High Lords--you should know this.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Do you need any help?”

She gestured to the shadow who had taken to following her around during the war against Koschei, when he had discovered she was pregnant, but had then absolutely refused to stand by while her family fought for their lives. “I have my assistant, this friendly little creature will get me there in no time.”

“Over eighty years have passed and you still insist on anthropomorphising my shadows,” Azriel cried in mock outrage, hands in the air. "I blame you for giving Aeri the idea to name hers, for Cauldron’s sake."

Elain simply gave him her sweetest smile and, knowing his penchant for baked goods, a fresh bap roll off the top of her tray, before she walked through the door. Heading outside, beyond the wards Rhys had set to prevent anyone but him and Feyre from winnowing directly to or from the River House, she turned at the last minute and called through the still-open window, "See you tonight at Rosehall, my love!" She laughed, “Oh, and don’t forget to bring a tea towel. I’ll have my own at the ready.”

Before long, her shadow grew to envelope her entirely, and she disappeared from view.

***

Nuala and Cerridwen, compassionate friends and employees that they were, gave Azriel ten minutes to enjoy his freshly baked bread with some freshly churned spring butter and leftover bramble jam, before they came back into the kitchen to report as the clock chimed the ninth hour of the morning.

In this time of relative peace, with all seven High Lords working together for the good of Prythian, their workload was much reduced. He could only be glad of it, but they still liked to stay up to date. It had helped them to waylay more than a couple of minor issues over the years, that would have undoubtedly snowballed into catastrophes, if they’d missed them, or let them continue unchecked.

As Azriel wiped the crumbs from the stubble he hadn’t yet shaved this morning, the twins waved him towards their office, hidden behind a false, built-in baker’s rack at the rear of the kitchen. Feyre and Rhys, both well aware that magic couldn’t always save them--that it could, in fact, be used against them--had designed the River House to have more than one secret room or corridor, in case of an emergency. It had only made sense that Nuala and Cerridwen, who, to the outside world, were simply members of their household staff, but in reality were so much more, had claimed this room for their own.

“Spymaster,” they said at once, their midnight eyes twinkling, smiles carefully serene, with voices like the soft light of dusk. “We don’t have much news this morning.”

It had taken their friendship with Elain, and her subsequent relationship with Azriel, for Nuala and Cerridwen to finally stop calling him ‘Lord.’ It had always irked him, because he was no such thing and had never felt worthy of the title, but he had eventually given up hope that his attempts to get them to use his name would be fruitful. However, after Mor had become involved with the Valkyries, vacating her role at the Court of Nightmares in favour of a job that allowed her the freedom to stretch her figurative wings and travel, and Azriel and Elain had been appointed as overseers in her place, they had taken to, when they felt the occasion called, dubbing him ‘Prince Azriel’ with great alacrity.

He knew that they loved to play up their bond as identical twins, often dressing such that their appearances were as indistinguishable as their scents, and speaking in perfect concert with each other. This not only made them more successful as spies, as strangers often didn’t realise that there were more than one of them, but was one of their favourite ways to have fun with people; they both had wicked senses of humour and, to be fair, it was good to keep those skills polished, even in times of peace.

“Nothing out of Vallahan yet?”

“No, Azriel, nothing,” responded Nuala, while Cerridwen’s face remained still. Shadows blurred their edges, their forms halfway to fully noncorporeal, as they often did when the shadow wraiths let their frustration show--mingling between the two of them, comforting each other, almost as if they were becoming the one entity. It was fitting, really, given their innate ability to function as such, and one of the many reasons that he and Rhys valued them so highly as spies and agents. Nu and Cerr were supremely smart, observant, and skilled in all they did.

Az hummed his annoyance at the kingdom of Vallahan. It had sided with Koschei’s forces during the most recent war, and none of the Prythian Courts had made much headway with forming treaties or alliances in the years since. Elain and Mor managed to calm them down when their monarchs started one of their decennial tantrums for more land, for which they were about due again, but nothing firm. Nothing concrete, to bind their nations in a much-needed peace.

Unlike Montesere, their neighbour to the southwest, Vallahan’s ruling class was as inhospitable as their ragged, mostly mountainous country. Montesere had tried to avoid war at all cost, essentially playing each side off the other, which had ended with a dead queen, her king consort in exile and a princess stepping up to the top job with the goal of building bridges with her neighbours. This forward-thinking attitude, combined with Montesere’s more arable lands and warmer climate, meant that they were no longer considered an imminent threat--though they would keep a close eye on them for at least another century.

It wasn’t ideal, but--“Fine. Mor will be heading back there for a fortnight next week, so we’ll brief her before she goes. Until then, our local agents will let us know if anything urgent requires attention.”

Mor would likely be having coffee and cake with Cassian this morning, at their favourite Velaris café, before she winnowed back to the home she shared part time with their ally Viviane’s sister, Tria, in the Winter Court, and Cassian left for Windhaven. He’d have to make sure he saw her when he and Elain went to visit Aerides later in the week, to enjoy the drinking chocolate that had become popular in the last couple of decades. Mor often joined them for such outings, anyway. She and Elain both delighted in the curiously clever creatures that dwelt in the Winter Court, as well as the fashions, and the generally cosy atmosphere of their buildings and people, so at odds with their surroundings.

Rubbing his face with both hands, he sighed. He hadn’t had his coffee this morning, and last night, however enjoyable, was catching up with him. Ever since he’d started sleeping properly, he’d become more attentive to his fatigue; while he could still function on insufficient sleep if he must, he would never enjoy it. Not that he had thought it ideal back then, to be fair, but the difference now was like night and day.

“Anything else pressing, or is it all in your reports?”

“The paperwork covers everything you need to know.” Cerridwen raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, “It looks like you need a nap. Did you not get much sleep last night?” Cultivated innocence dripped from every syllable.

Nuala snorted, knowing full well what her sister meant. The twins had been guests at Nesta’s party, bringing their own partners with them to make merry at the gorgeously appointed ball, their services as agents not required last night, though of course they would always be watching.

Az scowled, the shadows wreathing his shoulders darkening, spreading to his neck and down his arms. They must have already teased Elain this morning, if he was only getting the mild version. “I slept like any male would when he’s next to someone as beautiful as Elain.”

The twins groaned as one, with much enthusiasm; if he had heard correctly, there may even have been some booing. Nuala threw a pen at him, and exclaimed “Out! Now. We don’t get paid nearly enough to put up with that nonsense, and you know we get paid a lot.”

That was fair, maybe he had overdone the ‘husband in love’ routine, just a little bit. He let a soft smirk grace his features just as he remembered he had so far neglected to ask about Elain’s future birthday.

Mother above, he needed some coffee.

Azriel sketched a bow. “Duly noted. I’ll make sure to have Rhysand adjust your winter bonuses accordingly, to allow for such an egregious oversight on my behalf.” Scratching his chin, he then continued, “I do have a question for you both, though; and not work related.”

Eyes bright with curiosity, Nu hummed in acknowledgement, while Cerr motioned with one hand for Azriel to continue with her usual grace.

"As you know, Nesta just celebrated her eleventy-first birthday and, after speaking with her and Feyre earlier this morning, I’ve decided I would very much like to hold such a party for Elain, when she turns one hundred and eleven." He paused, considering. "This would be a surprise for her, but I think a gathering of friends and family, celebrating her, showing her how much we all love her, would be something she would enjoy. Will you help us?"

Cerridwen’s resulting grin was almost maniacal, as Nuala rubbed her hands together with glee. "Yes," they breathed. “We would love to.”

***

Azriel had hardly sat down to his coffee in a quiet, cosy corner of the kitchen--the scent of the rich brew alone beginning to rouse his senses from their insistent slumber--after having availed himself of the River House’s well-stocked larder and cooktop, when Feyre and Rhys softly knocked at the door to the main hall. Entering the room as he looked up, they joined him at his table, Feyre giving him a guilty look as they did so.

A small smile bloomed on Az’s face; that hadn’t taken long at all. “So, you’ve told him, then?”

“You planned to keep the secret safe from me for the next year, at least?” Rhys looked like the cat who had got the cream. “You know that I have experience planning lavish parties; I organised Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony, after all.”

He had, too. Though Azriel generally didn’t like to remember that time, and the bad memories that came along with it, he had to admit that Rhys had thrown one extravagant party for their brother and his mate.

“As you wish. Though this sounds much more like you wanting to have a good stickybeak, than anything else.”

Rhys smirked. “I’m a High Lord, ‘stickybeaking’ comes with the territory. And that’s rich coming from you; you’re the reason we have to keep solstice gifts hidden away every year.”

Azriel smirked right back. “Spymaster,” he deadpanned. “‘It comes with the territory.’”

Feyre laughed merrily, eyes shining. “For whatever reason, Rhys is now in on this. And you can be certain that Cassian will know before he and Nesta are even a third of the way back to Illyria this evening. Your hands are tied, Az. We all want to help.”

“Well,” said Azriel. “Such Council will either make everything easier, or much, much harder.”

*

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging. 💜

Part II - coming soon

Part III - coming soon

#the fellowship of the fling #a questionable attempt at a birthday tale by offtorivendell #elriel but make it bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party #elriel #pro elriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #elain archeron #pro elain #elain fic #azriel shadowsinger #pro azriel #azriel fic #elain x azriel #elriel children #but they're all grown up #acotar #acotar fic #my writing #a long expected party #a long-expected party

[skyeventide]

my trsb fic has so many notes to the text that they didn’t fit within the ao3 notes’ section character limit lmao, so here is the lengthier version of it. you can consider it a teaser I guess? but either way, I need some place to store these and link them back in the fic.

contents here, cut for length

on the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Celebrimbor’s names

shibbolething all over Thauron’s name

actual quotes and canon

On the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Meril-i-Turinqi is a Book of Lost Tales character, lady of Tol Eressea, kin of In(g)we but also similar to the Solosimpi, which is to say the Teleri.

The character of "Meril" on the other hand, is a proto-Amarie, Finrod's love interest. In the early draft of Meril's appearance, Finrod is married and is father of Gil-Galad: this draft is obviously discarded and Finrod becomes childless, while Meril transforms into Amarie, who does not join the exile. Gil-Galad is instead transferred to Orodreth, which iirc is Tolkien's last word on the matter (I don't count the Fingon thing as even canon-adjacent, ChrisT was quite clear in admitting the mistake). Now I recall Orodreth is said to be married to a Sinda; why did I discard that? Cause I initally forgot it. Rip to me and Orodreth.

However, what I had was: a proto-Amarie, who is a Vanya, and a BoLT character who is of the family of Ingwe (so a Vanya), but also like the Teleri (so of the third clan, even though not a Sinda). And so Meril-proto-Amarie became Meril-i-Turinqi, wife of Orodreth.

The full headcanon on Meril here would have her as daughter of a Vanya who is kin of Ingwe and of Telerin nobility (or royalty? they're all big on intermarrying between royal families), which fulfills both sides of the coin and also stays true to the statement that Elenwe is the sole full-Vanya to join the exile (I'm gonna assume this excludes any non-royalty followers). Now regarding the parentage of Orodreth, he is here son of Angrod, as I feel that is a better option in almost all respects. This poses some issues with regard to age, as I recall Orodreth-son-of-Angrod and Idril as being named the only two non-adults to do the journey to ME (again... this surely excludes any non-royalty youngsters, but nonetheless). Obviously these issues grow even further if one also includes the matter of Celebrimbor being Aman-born to a wife who doesn't follow Curufin (and therefore the matter of his age at the time of exile), but reconciling these versions is borderline impossible with how the origins of Celebrimbor keep changing throughout the conception of the legendarium.

Long story short, I up the age of Orodreth to be at least old enough to speak softly with Finarfin (here his grandfather) during the flight of the Noldor, but I have him already married though childless. Finduilas is born early into the exile and Gil-Galad is her younger brother.

Meril returns to Aman at the end of the First Age and rules Tol Eressea for the exiles who are stuck there until the Ban is fully lifted.

Celebrimbor's names

FN = father-name, MN = mother-name

I do not claim to have come up with "Tyelperinquar is an epesse", that headcanon, which nonetheless I'm sure happened separately for other people, is one I first read in a fic by Tyelperintal on AO3. That of course means that I could no longer go with the FN Curufinwe MN Tyelperinquar option, and needed another mother-name, which I also borrowed from the same story, and went for Ilvanon, "the perfect". It's pretty, and also speaks of a mix of high expectations and love.

What in this story made me accept the epesse headcanon is the matter of the origin of "T(y)elperinquar" as a name. Vinyar Tengwar (and most recently also NoME) explains how "silver fist" is a name common among the Teleri, famous for their ability to smith silver even among the Noldor, and it is also mentioned how other similar names, such as Tegilbor "calligrapher", are given to people based on their skill. This, however, directly contradicts the fact that elves don't give the same name to more than one person. That statement is problematic in itself (impossible that all elves across all time are aware of all names that ever have been used -- and also of course there's the usual royalty exceptions, that however may well be exceptions because they are royalty), but if it is a common name among the Teleri and we are to keep the duplicate names lore in mind... my only solution is that it's a coveted epesse, given to the very skilled.

Celebrimbor picks it as his chosen and preferred name over FN, already shared by two people and preferred as chosen name by his father, and the potential arrogance of picking his MN with its meaning.

This still led me to problems of both spelling and language choices.

As far as spelling goes, there's several variations. I'm marking with * the one that is not canonically attested, but can be inferred.

Pure Telerin: Telperimpar

Quenya-Telerin compound that maintains the Telerin spelling of silver: Telperinquar

As above, but shortened: Telpinquar

Pure Quenya: *Tyelperinquar

Pure Quenya, shortened: Tyelpinquar

I use all these except the last one at various stages: I decided (though I go back and forth on this) that his household might have used pure Quenya, and his mother sticks to it; the person in Tirion panicks and uses the shortened version Telpinquar, which together with Telperinquar (Telerin spelling maintained) was more common among the Noldor. The Tirion passage exemplifies the uses and applications of these names, how they were given and altered.

This leads me to problems of language and POV, Celebrimbor vs Tyelperinquar. His mother, in her POV, always uses the latter, but Celebrimbor himself uses the former. The true problem here was adapting my feeling that Celebrimbor would be far more used to thinking of himself as Celebrimbor (as opposed to the Quenya name) vs Tolkien's statement that elves do not use names in another language when speaking in X language. This doesn't stay wholly true through the legendarium and the texts, so it's something I've decided to partially ignore when it comes to POV, though I tend to stick to it in first person dialogue. Something that again I try to tackle in the text itself -- when Galadriel tells Celebrimbor which language to speak and which name to use for her.

I am not entirely satisfied with all my choices here and I might revisit them in the future, but for the moment, here we go.

Shibbolething all over Thauron's name

Another language and spelling headache. As I encountered the problem of Sauron, I encountered that of the spelling of his name: the eternal TH/S issue. Were I to have Celebrimbor's mother, and Celebrimbor himself, stick to the Shibboleth? I initially attempted to circumvent this by using Gorthaur, but the issue described just above, about mixing languages, yet again bit me in the ass.

Of course it comes down to characterisation: would Mrs Curufin stick to the Shibboleth, and would Celebrimbor? The matter with Celebrimbor was that I don't believe he spoke Quenya with any real frequency after the Nargothrond business, not as a choice but rather due to circumstances and preferences of those around him. With Ercasse, the conflict is part of the character, and that sadly meant that the TH/S choice became less of a personal choice and more of a political one, as usual.

That got me thinking about the circumstances around her and something interesting came to me: Finarfin spoke Quenya with the Shibboleth, because of the Teleri. And in the Darkening he becomes king in Tirion, and also has to adjust things with the Teleri -- not an easy task, imo, when he turns back only after the pronunciation of the Doom, and not just after the kinslaying occurred. Additionally, the Vanyar spoke preserving TH. Additionally x2, by the Fourth Age, Exilic Quenya (which uses S) is associated with those who rebelled and returned to Aman -- meanwhile any Sindar preserved TH naturally, as it's a sound that never went out of use in Sindarin.

So I chose to take these things and make something of it. If Finarfin maintains TH to keep the Telerin influence; if the Noldor who remain in Aman decide to step closer to the Vanyar in an anti-rebellion reactionary manner and to conform to the speech of the king; if Exilic Quenya gains the lower status of language of the exiles; and considering the canon fact that in later ages the elves are more likely to preserve language rather than change it -- what are our chances that Shibbolething gains opposite connotations as time passes? My conclusion was high chances. So I decided to implement it.

And so Ercasse doesn't have to think about her personal allegiances anymore and has a path built in for herself in these social changes. And Sauron is Thauron. (Unless Galadriel is talking: she doesn't Shibboleth, and uses “Sauron” and “Sindarin”.)

Quotes and canon

Many things I wrote are based on canon snippets. Here I tried to collect them.

On Celebrimbor and the mention of the bath of flames in his speech. It isn't, in fact, a corny lineage reference, but rather a metaphysical or pseudo-physical concept of purification from the Lost Tales:

Yet now the prayers of [their parents] came even to Manwe [the highest Valar], and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Turin and Nienori entered into ... the bath of flame... and so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair;

On the naming of Mithril (appears in the upcoming Nature of Middle Earth, as well as already published in Vinyar Tengwar):

[Celebrimbor] was a great silver-smith, and went to Eregion attracted by the rumours of the marvellous metal found in Moria, Moria-silver, to which he gave the name mithril.

On Celebrimbor's ambition and assorted choices, from Letter 131: 

In the first we see a sort of second fall or at least ‘error’ of the Elves. There was nothing wrong essentially in their lingering against counsel, still sadly with the mortal lands of their old heroic deeds. But they wanted to have their cake without eating it. They wanted the peace and bliss and perfect memory of ‘The West’, and yet to remain on the ordinary earth where their prestige as the highest people, above wild Elves, dwarves, and Men, was greater than at the bottom of the hierarchy of Valinor. They thus became obsessed with 'fading’, the mode in which the changes of time (the law of the world under the sun) was perceived by them. They became sad, and their art (shall we say) antiquarian, and their efforts all really a kind of embalming – even though they also retained the old motive of their kind, the adornment of earth, and the healing of its hurts. […] But many of me Elves listened to Sauron. He was still fair in that early time, and his motives and those of the Elves seemed to go partly together: the healing of the desolate lands. Sauron found their weak point in suggesting that, helping one another, they could make Western Middle-earth as beautiful as Valinor. It was really a veiled attack on the gods, an incitement to try and make a separate independent paradise.

Legolas and Aragorn and my choice to use the word love:

"[...]Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have a part in it, for the honour of the folk of the Lonely Mountain." "And I for the folk of the Great Wood," said Legolas, "and for the love of the Lord of the White Tree [Aragorn]."

Celebrimbor and the Elessar. It must be noted that this Celebrimbor is not Celebrimbor son of Curufin, but I still liked the tidbit of lore. From there my choice to have three different Elessar stones, one made by Feanor, one by Enerdhil of Gondolin, one by Celebrimbor (in the fic redressed to Celebrimbor son of Curufin, and without the romantic love for Galadriel):

But he did not say to Galadriel that he himself was of Gondolin long ago. Therefore he took thought, and began a long delicate labour, and so for Galadriel he made the greatest of his works (save the Three Rings only).And it is said that more subtle and clear was the green gem that he made than that of Enerdhil, but yet its light had less power. For whereas that of Enerdhil was lit by the Sun in its youth, already many years had passed ere Celebrimbor began his work, and nowhere in Middle-earth was the light as clear as it had been, for though Morgoth had been thrust out into the Void and could not enter again, his far shadow lay upon it.Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings.

On the vale and the stream where Formenos is located, I utilised this passage from Lost Tales:

[...] here the entire people of the Noldoli are ordered to leave Kor for the rugged dale northwards where the stream Híri plunged underground, and the command to do so seems to have been less a punishment meted out to them by Manwe than a pre-caution and a safeguard. In connection with the place of the banishment of the Noldoli, here called Sirnúmen ('Western Stream') [...]

Relevant LotR quotes about the Eregion passages, used for soil description extrapolations and other elements:

Suddenly Gimli, who had pressed on ahead, called back to them. He was standing on a knoll and pointing to the right. Hurrying up they saw below them a deep and narrow channel. It was empty and silent, and hardly a trickle of water flowed among the brown and redstained stones of its bed; but on the near side there was a path, much broken and decayed, that wound its way among the ruined walls and paving-stones of an ancient highroad. ‘Ah! Here it is at last!’ said Gandalf. ‘This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the Gate-stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late.’ [...] "...there is a wholesome air about Hollin. Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the elves, if once they dwelt there." "That is true", said Legolas. "But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

More TBA if anything comes to mind.

#writing stuff #trsb21

[elvish-sky]

I posted 5,773 times in 2021

1609 posts created (28%)

4164 posts reblogged (72%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.6 posts.

I added 3,328 tags in 2021

#maiasasks - 1046 posts

#the hobbit - 391 posts

#lord of the rings - 389 posts

#jrr tolkien - 355 posts

#anon - 279 posts

#movies - 181 posts

#incorrect quotes - 173 posts

#incorrect lotr - 172 posts

#incorrect lord of the rings quotes - 171 posts

#incorrect lotr quotes - 171 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#as someone who was an 11yo on here at one point i hope none of y’all are that young cause i lov tumblr now but it wasn’t great for an 11yp

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Boromir : What are you writing?

Legolas: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Aragorn, looking over Legolas's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.

532 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 00:01:35 GMT

#4

You seem like someone who’d love an edit of Aragorn in his teens

You’re welcome <3

NOW I UNDERSTAND ARWEN

WELL, UM

HOLY FUCKING HELL THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

seriously, i thought he was gorgeous before but now that he looks my age…

WOW

this was the best thing possible to wake up too!

thank you for blessing my eyes!!!!

567 notes • Posted 2021-07-07 10:48:36 GMT

#3

Aragorn, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Legolas, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Gimli, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Eomer, trembling: What are we playing

1212 notes • Posted 2021-04-02 00:01:33 GMT

#2

Pippin: ARE YOU-

Merry: Fucking.

Pippin: -KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Merry: Fucking.

Pippin: IDIOT!!!

Aragorn: ... what was that?!

Merry: Gandalf banned Pippin from swearing, so I’ve volunteered to help him out.

1221 notes • Posted 2021-03-22 00:01:07 GMT

#1

One day, Aragorn shows up with blue hair. Not fully blue, just a few streaks.

Naturally, Legolas immediately decides that he has to dye his hair because no one can have more fabulous hair than him. He dyes it green. It looks pretty good.

This fad goes through the Fellowship, Gimli bleaching his hair and doing purple streaks, Frodo goes with some tasteful blue tips, Sam matches Legolas with some green streaks (“Us plant lovers have to stick together, Mr. Elf.”), Merry and Pippin squabble over it but eventually Merry gets red highlights and Pippin gets orange streaks. Boromir gets blue to match Aragorn.

The real shock comes a week later when Gandalf shows up with ombré pink ends.

Pippin immediately insists on changing his hair to match.

Eventually, the entire Fellowship has some amount of pink hair. Legolas went all out and dyed all his hair pink.

Thranduil was furious.

2812 notes • Posted 2021-04-20 13:24:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[eldamaranquendi]

Lord of the Rings by https://twitter.com/audkoch

Bless Samwise Gamgee's queer little hobbit heart.

"And so Gollum found them hours later, when he returned […]. Sam sat propped against the stone, his head drooping sideways and his breathing heavy. In his lap lay Frodo's head, drowned deep in sleep […]. Peace was in both their faces." - Tolkien, The Two Towers

#Frodo and #Samwise in Shelob's lair.  "They struggled on, still hand in hand." (The Two Towers, #TheLordoftheRings, J.R.R. Tolkien) 

"But Shelob was not as dragons are, no softer spot had she …" (J.R.R. Tolkien, #TheLordoftheRings, The Two Towers, "The  Choices of Master Samwise").

"All right, Sam," said Frodo. "Lead me!  As long as you've got any hope  left. Mine is gone." (Tolkien, #TheLordoftheRings, The Return of the King)

"To Sam's surprise he felt tired but lighter, and his head seemed clear again. No more debates disturbed his mind. He knew all the arguments of despair and would not listen to them. His will was set, and only death would break it." (#Tolkien, #LordoftheRings)

"Master!" cried Sam. And Frodo stirred and spoke with a clear voice, indeed with a voice clearer and more powerful than Sam had ever heard him use, and it rose above the throb and turmoil of Mount Doom, ringing in the roof and walls.

- #Tolkien, #LordoftheRings, #ReturnoftheKing

"Do not be too sad, Sam," said Frodo. "You cannot be always torn in two.  You will have to be one and whole, for many years.  You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do." (J.R.R. #Tolkien, #LordoftheRings, The Return of the King)

The Greathearts of the Shire:  Sam & Frodo, Pippin & Merry!

Sketchbooking:  working out how I want to draw the Fellowship of the Ring.

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

"Frodo was the only one present who had said nothing." -J.R.R. #Tolkien, #TheFellowshipoftheRing (#TheLordoftheRings), Ch. 1

"I am not trying to rob you, but to help you," Gandalf answered.  "I wish you would trust me, as you used."  He turned away, and the shadow passed.  He seemed to dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled. - J.R.R. #Tolkien, #TheFellowshipoftheRing, Chapter 1

Bilbo looked up, sniffing the air.  "What fun!  This is what I have really been longing for, for years!  Good-bye!" he said, looking at his old home and bowing to the door.  "Good-bye, Gandalf!"

Frodo began to say to himself: "Perhaps I shall cross the River myself one day." To which the other half of his mind always replied: "Not yet." - J.R.R. #Tolkien, #TheFellowshipoftheRing, Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past

Gandalf was smoking now in silence, for Frodo was sitting still, deep in thought. Even in the light of morning he felt the dark shadow of the tidings that Gandalf had brought. - J.R.R. #Tolkien, #TheFellowshipoftheRing Ch. 2: The Shadow of the Past

Frodo sat silent and motionless.  Fear seemed to stretch out a vast hand, like a dark cloud rising in the East and looming up to engulf him.  "This ring!" he stammered. - J.R.R. #Tolkien, #TheFellowshipoftheRing Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past

#tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #gandalf #bilbo #frodo #samwise gamgee #merry #pippin #legolas greenleaf #aragorn #gimli #hobbiton #shire #bag end

[songofwizardry]

lotr reread thoughts: fellowship of the ring, part 1

reading Ham Gamgee’s dialogue gives me the same feeling as listening to my grandfather hold forth on how all of us children are related to each other and do we know HOW, and none of us even know the story of Mr NK our ancestor and how he came to this town and he’s going to tell it to us, and can we recite our family tree? Can we? Because he can, and did we know our second cousin on mum’s side got divorced this year, and... 

it’s such a precise feeling to capture, and Ham Gamgee’s dialogue just encapsulates it perfectly, okay. I’m actually very fond of Tolkien’s dialogue.

the great thing about the titles of the chapters being the same as soundtrack track titles is I will read the chapter title and my brain will fill in the music. it’s great, thanks Howard Shore.

“Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and not by its maker. In which case you were also meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.” / “It is not,” said Frodo. 

This is a really interesting line about destiny and all the trappings of that—who does Gandalf think meant Frodo to find the ring? Hmmmm. Also, I love Frodo and Gandalf’s interactions so much. “It is not” bless this hobbit. 

I always forget that Sam’s “I ain’t dropping no eaves sir!” Is not actually in the book. 

“He spoke lightly, but his heart was moved suddenly with a desire to see the house of Elrond Halfelven, and breathe the air of that deep valley where many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace.” 

ME TOO FRODO. My heart is also moved with a desire to see the Last Homely House. Sigh. 

#salmon's lotr reread #tolkien #lotr #fotr

[vonnegutcoded]

5.24.19 // starting out my day on my back porch with some vonnegut and some tolkien.  i recently finished god bless you, mr. rosewater (so good!!  highly recommend!) and lately i’ve been wanting to reread the silmarillion because my friend and i have been watching the appendices to the lotr films.  what i should be doing is looking for apartments because i’m moving in july hopefully but...here i am.

#it's summer baby and i don't have a job #and i'm living my best life #tho rn my car is in the shop for the second time this week and in actuality i'm bleeding money at this point #emma rambles

[lornaslibrary]

Magic

Last week I asked you to recommend books on the subject of magic. Here are all of the books that were recommended!!

Bold = the books I’ve read * = the books I personally would recommend + = want to read/on my TBR

Rivers of London (Peter Grant #1), by Ben Aaronovitch

Children of Blood and Bone (Legacy of Orïsha #1), by Tomi Adeyemi +

The Girl Who Chased the Moon, by Sarah Addison Allen

Garden Spells (Waverly Family #1), by Sarah Addison Allen

Magic Bites (Kate Daniels #1), by Ilona Andrews +

The Bear and the Nightingale (Winternight Trilogy #1), by Katherine Arden +

Shadow and Bone (The Grisha Trilogy #1), by Leigh Bardugo

Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1), by Leigh Bardugo *

The Iron Trial (Magisterium #1), by Holly Black & Cassandra Clare

The Children of Green Knowe (Green Knowe #1), by L.M. Boston

The Magicians’ Guild (The Black Magician #1), by Trudi Canavan

So Far From God, by Ana Castillo

The Demon King (Seven Realms #1), by Cinda Williams Chima

Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1), by Kat Cho

The Bone Witch (The Bone Witch #1), by Rin Chupeco +

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke

The Belles (The Belles #1), by Dhonielle Clayton

The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library #1), by Genevieve Cogman *

Over Sea, Under Stone (The Dark is Rising #1), by Susan Cooper

London Falling (Shadow Police #1), by Paul Cornell

Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors (The Risen Kingdoms #1), by Curtis Craddock

The Naming (The Books of Pellinor #1), by Alison Croggon

Thornfruit by Felicia Davin

Half Magic (Tales of Magic #1), by Edward Eager

We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya #1), by Hafsah Faizal

Inkheart (Inkworld #1), by Cornelia Funke 

Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman

The Dark Days Club (Lady Helen #1), by Alison Goodman

Warped, by Maurissa Guibord

The Goose Girl (The Books of Bayern #1), by Shannon Hale

Frostfire (Kanin Chronicles #1), by Amanda Hocking

Switched (Trylle #1), by Amanda Hocking

Practical Magic (Practical Magic #1), by Alice Hoffman

The Paper Magician (The Paper Magician #1), by Charlie N. Holmberg

The Silvered, by Tanya Huff

The Shadow of What Was Lost (The Licanius Trilogy #1), by James Islington

Wintersong (Wintersong #1), by S. Jae-Jones

The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1), by N.K. Jemisin

Howl’s Moving Castle (Howl’s Moving Castle #1), by Diana Wynn Jones

The Chronicles of Chrestomanci, Vol. 1 (Chrestomancy #1-2), by Diana Wynne Jones

Tigana, by Guy Gavriel Kay

Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1), by Jay Kristoff *

A Wizard of Earthsea (The Earthsea Cycle #1), by Ursula K. Le Guin

The Magician’s Nephew (The Chronicles of Narnia #1), by C. S. Lewis

Ash, by Malinda Lo

The Witches of New York, by Ami McKay

When the Moon Was Ours, by Anna-Marie McLemore *

The Last Magician (The Last Magician #1), by Lisa Maxwell

The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1), by Jodi Meadows

Circe, by Madeline Miller

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern +

Sabriel (The Old Kingdom #1), by Garth Nix

Uprooted, by Naomi Novik

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik

The Hounds of the Morrigan, by Pat O’Shea

Tempests and Slaughter (The Numair Chronicles #1), by Tamora Pierce 

The Wee Free Men (Discworld #30, Tiffany Aching #1), by Terry Pratchett 

An Enchantment of Ravens, by Margaret Rogerson

Sorcery of Thorns, by Margaret Rogerson

Carry On (Simon Snow #1), by Rainbow Rowell

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Harry Potter #1), by J.K. Rowling *

Ordinary Magic, by Caitlen Rubino-Bradway

Magyk (Septimus Heap #1), by Angie Sage

The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive #1), by Brandon Sanderson

The Final Empire (Mistborn #1), by Brandon Sanderson +

Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1),  by Brandon Sanderson

Elantris (Elantris #1), by Brandon Sanderson

A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic #1), by V.E. Schwab *

Troubled Waters (Elemental Blessings #1), by Sharon Shinn

Trafficking in Magic, Magicking in Traffic, edited by David Sklar and Sarah Avery 

Poison Study (The Chronicles of Ixia #1), by Maria V. Snyder +

Daughter of Smoke & Bone (Daughter of Smoke and Bone #1), by Laini Taylor *

Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer #1), by Laini Taylor *

An Ember in the Ashes (An Ember in the Ashes #1), by Sabaa Tahir

The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings #1), by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien

Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins #1), by P.L. Travers

Among Others, by Jo Walton

The Black Prism (Lightbringer #1), by Brent Weeks

Dealing with Dragons (Enchanted Forest Chronicles #1), by Patricia C. Wrede

If you recommended books but don’t see your recommendations here, feel free to message me to let me know I missed your response

Other Chain Recs Masterposts

#Chain Recs #Chain Recs Masterpost #booklr #book recommendations #my recommendations #magical realism #mine

[sincerelybluevase]

Didn't think all questions from 'Asks' could be proposed, so there you go: all the questions (1 to 96) or as much as you can!

Well thank you, nonny! I shall put these under a cut. 

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed? Closed, because you never know what might be in there!

(2) Do You Have Freckles? I wish I did, but alas! My sisters do have them so jealous much. 

(3) Can You Whistle? I can, but I can’t carry a tune I’m afraid. 

(4) Last Song You Listened To. Almost by Hozier. 

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour? It’s a tie between blue and red. 

(6) Relationship Status. Taken, and happily so!

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now? 16 degrees Celsius, so that’s about 61 F.

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky? I woke up from a nightmare, so it wasn’t really the best sort of waking. That said, I’m not cranky per se, just a bit sleepy still.

(9) How Many Followers? 438

(10) Zodiac Sign. Aquarius

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour? Blue!

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily? Not daily; I take vitamin D tablets you have to take every few days. Before I used to take a different vitamin D tablet daily, though!

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower? No but I do talk to myself haha. 

(14) What Books Are You Reading? The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien for a course at university, and Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel for fun. 

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14. I don’t think you have to worry about Bilbo. 

(16) Favourite Anime? Hm, probably Howl’s Moving Castle. 

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of? I’m trying to remember when I last cried. Either in front of my gf, or in front of my sisters. 

(18) Do You Collect Anything? Books and crystal skulls!

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch? Nothing yet, because it is still morning. 

(20) Do You Dance In The Car? Our car isn’t big enough for that haha. 

(21) Favourite Animal? I think I would have to choose otters. 

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics? I watch parts of it.

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed? Well, I usually go up at 9.30, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually aiming for sleep at that point, haha. 

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now? I’m allergic to make up, so no.

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean? Neither, because I hate swimming. 

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog? How could I ever choose?

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water? I live in the Netherlands, which has the cleanest tap water in the world. Therefore, drinking bottled water is almost criminal. 

(28) What Makes You Happy? Many things! My gf, my sisters, my dog, good books, writing, playing the piano, petrichor, warmth, hot tea...

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music? It depends on what I am studying, truth be told. I do both, though I always use instrumental music. 

(31) Dogs Or Cats? Both. 

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be? I don’t know. Probably a pastel blue, maybe orange?

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox. Sadly, I have had neither. 

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean? Not if I can help it. 

(35) Do You Believe In Magic? Define magic. 

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing? I’m wearing a dress. It’s denim, therefore blue. 

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue? I can!

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It? I’d like to say both, but I mainly spend it. 

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You? Yes; my phone case. 

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now? I wouldn’t call it an obsession, but I have been listening to Lana Del Rey’s new album on repeat, and I’ve found myself craving gothic books.

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly? I haven’t. 

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People? No. 

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams? All the freaking time!

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes? No; the air is super dry, the seats are cramped and uncomfortable, the food too little and not very good. I do like I’m going somewhere, though. 

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry. The only thing that comes to mind right now is Shrek the Fourth, which is somewhat embarrassing, but really I cry easily with films.

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds? Sunflower seeds, though both are lovely when salted. 

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be? Hozier. 

(48) Are You A Picky Eater? I can’t eat gluten and I’m also lactose intolerant, so in that sense I am picky. If it boils down to what I actually like, I’m not. 

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper? Not at all. 

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning? Nope!

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write? Yes and yes!

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud? No because I am perpetually afraid I will damage my ears and go deaf. 

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents? I have only ever carved a pumpkin once, so I am going to go with that because it is so new. 

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up? Mrs de Winter bin ich! From the German musical adaption of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather) Transitioning from summer to autumn. 

(56)What Are You Craving Right Now? Some free time so I can finish my first draft and finish the book I’m reading. 

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed. No.

(58) What Is Your Gender? Female.

(59) Coffee Or Tea? Tea.

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About? I’m doing an English literature master, so I have homework all the time! I have to write a little essay about the letters of Margaret Cavendish, read LOTR, and choose a topic for an essay for my course on British and Irish fantasy novels.

(61) What Is Your Sexuality? Lesbian.

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning? Yes.

(63) Favourite Pokemon? Bulbosaur.

(64) Favourite Social Media? Tumblr.

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories? They can be fun!

(66) Do You Get Homesick? As a rule, no, but it depends on where I am and most of all with whom.

(67) Are You A Virgin? What a personal question!

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now? I don’t use conditioner, but I am using a shampoo bar by Lush which I don’t remember the name of, but it is for blondes and has chamomille and smells like lemon. 

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free? What an American question! It is not really something I will have to deal with, living in the Netherlands. Still, if it came to it I suppose my car is less dirty than a crappy motel room.

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life? Yes.

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters? Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex? I don’t have one. 

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now? I don’t really have one. 

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest? That fully depends on the person those eyes belong to. As a general rule, brown eyes.

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set? I do, and yes!

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate? I’m eating a sandwich as we eat. 

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone? Microsoft’s solitaire collection. 

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not? I can’t give CPR, but if i could, I would, because I damn well hope someone would give me CPR if I was in that situation. 

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight? Yes.

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network? No.

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People? Again, depends on the context. 

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them. I wear one on each thumb and one on my right middle finger. Can’t take a picture ATM

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed? Closed.

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today? Brushed my teeth, made breakfast, talked to my gf. It’s 7.45 in the morning, guys.

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed? Nothing. 

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now. I have face moisturiser and that is it guys.

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person? A day person.

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc. Candy crush friends, and Microsoft solitaire collection.

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened. Well this morning I had a nightmare where I had to perform an exorcism on a loved one, and it didn’t work. Come to think of it, I did try to bless them with ‘the father, the mother, and the holy ghost,’ so that may have had something to do with it not working. 

(90) Favourite Soda Drink? Fanta or 7-up.

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite? My gf laughing, rain on leaves (I am not that much of a rain person though), birds. 

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More? Sweats are more comfy, Jeans look better. 

(93) How Do You Look Right Now? Tired. 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You. Music. 

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want? I don’t want one. I am too fickle; I’d grow bored of it after a while.

(96) Favourite YouTuber? I don’t have one favourite since I use youtube for different things. 

[words-smith]

Books read 2019

Herman Hesse (2000) The glass bead game. Vintage Books, London, 530pp.

Benjamin Linder (2017) Beyond the creeping light. Vajra Books, Kathmandu, xix + 48pp. JRR Tolkien (2018) The fall of Gondolin. HarperCollinsPublishers, London, 304pp. Ken Follett (2017) A column of fire. Macmillan, London, xiii + 751pp. Franz Kafka (2014) The complete short stories. Projapoti, Calcutta, ix + 412pp. George RR Martin (2011) A clash of kings. HarperVoyager, London, 911pp. Arne Drews (2018) Himalaya gold - a Nepal detective story. Vajra Books, Kathmandu, ix + 118pp. Nikita Gill (2017) Wild embers. Trapeze, London, x + 150pp. Elizabeth Strout (2017) Anything is possible. Viking, London, 254pp. Maggie Nelson (2015) The Argonauts. Melville House UK, London, 180pp. Stephen King (2013) Doctor Sleep. Hodder & Stoughton, London, 485pp. Roland Barthes (2002) A lover’s discourse. Vintage Books, London, 234pp. Anton Chekhov (2015) The prank. New York Review Books, New York, xvi + 114pp. Kurt Vonnegut (2006) God bless you, Mr. Rosewater. Dial Press Trade Paperbacks, New York, 275pp. Hans Rosling (2018) Factfulness. Sceptre, London, x + 342pp. Alexander Pushkin (2010) Yevgeny Onegin. Everyman Classics, Gurgaon, xxix + 232pp. John Howe (2018) A Middle-Earth traveller. HarperCollinsPublishers, London, 192pp. Alice Munro (2007) The progress of love. Vintage Books, London, 309pp. Heinrich Harrer (1997) Seven years in Tibet. HarperCollinsPublishers, New Delhi, xv + 288pp. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2017) Americanah. 4th Estate, London, 477pp. Heinrich Harrer (1985) Return to Tibet. Penguin Books, London, 184pp. Roy Jacobsen (2014) De usynlige. Rosinante, Copenhagen, 216pp. Jussi Adler-Olsen (2016) Kvinden i buret. Politikens Forlag, Copenhagen, 379pp. Peter Høgh (1993) Frøken Smillas fornemmelse for sne. Rosinante, Copenhagen, 435pp. Dorthe Nors (2016) Spejl, skulder, blink. Gyldendal, Copenhagen, 191pp. Albert Camus (2000) The rebel. Penguin Books, London, xii + 260pp. Hermann Hesse (2014) Strange news from another star. Pygmaion LLP, i + 28pp. Aksel Sandemose (2010) En flygtning krydser sit spor. Schønberg, Copenhagen, 439pp. Celeste Ng (2017) Little fires everywhere. Penguin Press, New York, 338pp. GRR Martin, EM García and L Antonsson (2014) The world of fire and ice. Bantam Books, New York, 326pp. Paul Auster (2011) Oracle night. Faber and Faber, London, 207pp. Hermann Hesse (2012) Knulp. Pygmaion LLP, i + 91pp. Erich Fromm (1995) The art of loving. Thorsons, London, viii + 104pp. Yoko Ogawa (2009) The diving pool. Vintage Books, London, 164pp. Rune T Kidde (1999) 101 mak og mesterværker. Forlaget Modtryk, Århus, 160pp. Jacques-Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre (2005) Paul and Virginia. Peter Owen, London, 142pp. Halfdan Rasmussen (1969) Forventning. Det Schønbergske Forlag, Copenhagen, 85pp. Carl Gustav Jung (2003) Aspects of the feminine. Routledge, London, viii + 213pp. Sally Rooney (2018) Normal people. Faber & Faber, London, 266pp. Rabindranath Tagore (2012) Gitanjali. Penguin Books, New Delhi, lxxxvi + 257pp. Hermann Hesse (1998) Rosshalde. Picador, New York, 213pp. Gregory David Roberts (2015) The mountain shadow. Little, Brown, London, 873pp. Patrick Süskind (2010) Perfume. Penguin Books, London, 263pp. Kurt Vonnegut (1990) Hocus pocus. Vintage Books, London, iii + 268pp. Haruki Murakami (2018) Killing commendatore. Vintage, London, 681pp. JK Rowling (2018) Harry Potter & and the chamber of secrets. Bloomsbury, London, 360pp. William Shakespeare (2016) King Lear. Penguin Book, Gurgaon, 160pp.