#Valacirca

[nothinghereisworking]

Nobody tell him...

Maedhros I have hung on high Sweetly swinging o’er the plain Mountains rising to the sky Echoing eternal pain

Tha-aaaaaa-aaaaaa-aaangorodrim in excelsis Melkor

#thangorodrim #morgoth #ancalagon #angband #valacirca #tolkien fanart #bad paint art #artist: cuarthol #season's greetings #filk

[gehen]

Another Elbereth. With Valacirca (and ridiculous amount of glitter)

#art #fanart #tolkien #silmarillion #varda elentari #elbereth #starry night #valar #ainur #varda is a badass #white pen #black paper #chalk art #Valacirca #glitter #tolkien illustration #middle earth

[littlefreya]

Oh Freya....why would you go and choose violence (affectionate) like that? When you put Lines in the Sand on my dash, I just have to stop all else any give it another read. It's incurable....

Seriously though, it's been a long while, and as soon as I'm home from my current work trip I'll be delving into it. So, thank you for the reminder!! 🤩🫶🏻

I missed Jess and Sy for sure :) they were the first series I wrote and finished and writing this story really helped me overcome a lot of unresolved issues, so while it’s been a long time and I think I grew as a writer they will always have a special place in my heart.

Hope you have heaps of fun on your trip, my love 🖤😍

#ask freya #captain syverson #lines in the sand #valacirca

[nataliescatorccio]

Happy birthday Becca! 💐🥳 Hope this new year of your life will be full of love and joy, and new teen dramas to enjoy ✌🏻

thank you so much hilal ❤️ sounds like a perfect year to me!!

#valacirca #becca's bday

[aliciavikander]

Is it strange that I'm genuinely happy you got your new url? Like finally someone's getting what they deserve around here 💪🏻😂

listen, i've been checking my url all day cause i can't believe it. i've been using this icon of alicia for YEARS manifesting this day 😭 miracles do happen <3 something nice will happen to you too soon!!!!

#maybe we're just a bunch of clowns here #but today we're HAPPY clowns 🤡😌 #(i still adore my martymcfly url tho) #answered #valacirca

[starspray]

"Then [Varda] began a great labor, greatest of all the works of the Valar since their coming into Arda. She took the silver dews from the vats of Telperion, and therewith she made new stars and brighter against the coming of the Firstborn ... And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom." - The Silmarillion, "Of the Coming of the Elves"

#look i stitched a thing #varda #embroidery #silmarillion #valacirca #thangorodrim

[tamilhobbit]

Day 7 - Star

I drew Varda Elentári, the Star-kindler, Queen of the Valar.

Then Varda... began a great labour.... She took the silver dews from the vats of Telperion, and therewith she made new stars and brighter.... And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom.

Valacirca is the Quenya name for the constellation we know as the Big Dipper or Ursa Major.

#Tolkien #Silmarillion #Varda #Elbereth #Varda Elentári #stars #Big Dipper #Valacirca #art #my art #my photos #Inktober #Randomtober #Tolkientober #ink drawing #fanart #Valar

[dadralt]

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!!

omg thank you so much 🥰🥰 it did make me smile :D

and i think you're wonderful too!!!! <3

#valacirca #ask

[loremastering]

Look up

#lotro #daerhovan #lotro oc #lotr oc #daer remebering the night sky and all its beauty exists while taking mushroom samples #featuring the Valacirca #my art

[problem-of-ros]

göncölszekér from my roof window ilu

#‘​‘whats the valacirca called in english’’ i think to myself in english. LOST CAUSE

[eleneressea]

@shrikeseams replied to your post “oh no it's time to create an elaborate spreadsheet”:

For someone who never learned her constellations, is that the same as: "And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom." ?

​Nope! The Valacirca is the Big Dipper/Plough, which is in Ursa Major, near the North Star. Maia is one of the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, which is near Taurus.

They both have seven stars but that's a coincidence.

#shrikeseams #was very tempted by the valacirca though

[cilil]

There's a cool detail I noticed in regards to the dynamic between Melkor and Varda.

At first glance, you have the classic Lord of Darkness* vs. Lady of Light set-up. Varda has her stars and Melkor has his dark clouds and hellish underground fortresses and dark magic and so on. He's also associated with iron a lot: He wears an iron crown, Angband is the "iron prison" or "hell of iron" and both it and Utumno are located in/close to the Iron Mountains.

Why is this interesting?

Because stars die when they fuse iron.

*Though Melkor used to be very bright himself and is obsessed with light. I may elaborate on this more in the future.

#food for thought #i think melkor might have been going for some symbolism there #similar to what varda did with the valacirca #melkor #morgoth #varda #elbereth #valar #ainur #silmarillion #tolkien

[nataliescatorccio]

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!!

this is so very sweet! it definitely made me smile, thank you so much 💖

#valacirca

[deandoesthingstome]

Hi Charlie! Here's some weird asks for you, if you may 👀

23, 27, 29, 48, 50, 68, 73, 79 & 90

Wow, Hilal, wow!!! This is a lot. Let's dig in and see what I can do!

Psst! It's loooonnnggggg

23. strange habits?

I really need the blankets on the bed to be a certain way. Tag goes at a specific corner at the bottom of the bed, blanket must be (at least to start the night) straight on the bed. My husband indulges my crazy this way.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Curl up inside; this time the blanket is allowed to bunch up around me

29. best way to bond with you?

One-on-one time, probably over food and drink

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I don't want this to be just the fruit that I like most. Which might be a satsuma.

But I think about how it's exterior might not be as pretty as the others, but that when you take time to peel the outer layer back, the surprise of the softest tasting orange treats your tongue and it taste so good.

So maybe, a satsuma?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

It's not one particular thing, but rather who and when. When I'm completely relaxed and hanging with my husband, no care in the world, and we both find something amusing and then we're laughing at each other laughing, which only causes more laughter that we keep laughing at. It's the best feeling.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

This is tough. Because it's not really about the flavor, but the worst food I tried was without a doubt oysters.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

I don't think this is very wired. But I just tried a blackened salmon BLT, so pork and salmon apparently.

Driver's license.

90. luckiest mistake?

(Whoops! Forgot this one.)

I really don't think I have one. Not that I don't make mistakes or think I'm not lucky.

But I think my mistakes aren't lucky. Unless you count the lessons there are to learn.

#hilal asks #valacirca asks #charlie answers #ask games #keep me company

[holytrickster]

waaait the valacirca is supposedly the big dipper??? that means when i would go outside and look at the stars night after night and noticed the big dipper ...🥹

#menelmacar is my favorite but the idea i would have been just looking at the valacirca all those nights is. auughhh #unless im dumb and cant tell which dipper is which. but it looked really big ok #sorry menelmacar is legally required to be my favorite/most important to me as someone who goes by orion /j

[actual-bill-potts]

(Continued from this post)

After breakfast, Earwen cleared the plates away. Finrod had attacked his food like one who was starving - and Finarfin supposed he had been, long ago and far away, when he had fallen in the dark - and had seemed a little in shock afterwards. Perhaps it was the absence of the desperation he had felt in his last weeks - Finarfin shuddered again at the borrowed memory - or the ease with which what he wanted could be obtained. Or perhaps he was merely still unused to eating, after so many years without a body. Finarfin had heard that it could be so.

Still, his son leapt to his feet and offered to help. “Please,” he said, “I have done nothing to help you, all yesterday and today.”

Earwen shook her head and clapped him companionably on the shoulder. “You have been back for so little time that I keep stumbling over the sight of you. I insist you let yourself rest, and do nothing for at least one six-day.”

When Finrod still looked doubtful, she had looked over at Finarfin and laughed. “Besides, your father would never speak to me again if I assigned you such a menial duty, when he is looking at you like you hung the Valacirca and set Tilion’s course yourself.”

Finrod met Finarfin’s gaze, startled, and Finarfin blinked back. He realized belatedly that he had indeed been staring at Finrod for far too long. It was just that he was so familiar! So familiar, and so dear! How - how - how had he gone an Age without seeing his children? He did not know. The grief for his other dear ones warred in his heart with the rising crest of joy that would not be denied: his eldest was home! Home, and safe, and himself. It was nearly unbelievable.

Finrod looked as if he were about to say something; but after a moment he dropped his gaze. His eyes so often fell away from Finarfin’s face, as if afraid of a blow, or a rejection. As if there could be one, as if Finarfin would be capable - !

He wanted to explain, to take Finrod by the shoulders and tell him of all the messages he had choked down within himself for years uncounted: for him, for all their children. In the early days he had wandered about the rooms of their old family home like one whose fëa had departed, thinking, my children, my children, I am sorry if I ever said you were too loud; come back, for this house sounds like my father who is dead. 

He had sat upon Ingoldo’s bed and thought, my eldest, my son, what will I do without your laugh; had wandered in upon a half-finished painting of Artaresto’s and felt all the colors run together in his mind; tripped blindly over Angaráto’s hunting bow and Aikanáro’s bangle of necklaces, tangled together in the hallway; come upon a little mirror that Artanis had crafted at but twenty years of age and stared into it for an afternoon as if her face would suddenly swim into being, laughing: see, Atar, I have hidden from you again! You are not very good at finding me.

And then the many years after, holding messages for his children that would never - as he thought - be delivered. For Findaráto, it had most often been stories of the court: little exasperations, or funny moments that he thought his eldest would like. For so long, he had turned automatically to Findaráto with little observations or the beginnings of ideas, for his son had a gift for spinning out his tangled thoughts into a beautiful weft and then handing it back to him all shimmering. It had taken him so long, nearly a hundred years into his long exile - for it was an exile, sealed away from his family as much as they were trapped away from him - to break himself of the habit. 

But now Finrod was here.

Finarfin shook himself; mustered all the gentleness that was left inside him after forty years of war; smoothed away the lingering frustration and grief that Finrod could not trust him; and said, “Shall we find you a comb?”

Finrod laughed suddenly, and Finarfin nearly jumped. That sound - he had not heard it in so long! The clearness of it!

Finrod laughed again, and said, “I suppose my hair must be a sight. Yes, let us - and help would be most welcome, if you are still willing.”

“Of course,” said Finarfin, and led Finrod up the stairs. He made his way to the chambers he shared with Eärwen and rummaged about for a little before finding what he sought. Then he bustled out again, meeting Finrod, who again was hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“Let us go to your room,” said Finarfin, brandishing his prize. “There is a new style of brush which is all the fashion in Tirion now. Rather than being sung or carved into shape from wood, it is made of goats’ hair. One rubs a little oil into the bristles before brushing. I have found that it does wonders for how my hair lays, and it makes the braiding much less painful later.”

Finrod’s eyes lit up. “I have seen this before!” he exclaimed. “Well - not this exact comb - but the Dwarves used a very similar implement to care for their beards. I believe it was made of boar-bristles. I wonder that we never thought to use it on our own hair!” His smile turned wistful. “But then, perhaps it is not so surprising. Relations could be - difficult, and there was much else to think about.”

Finarfin thought of the Great War, ended not four hundred years past. He remembered how the dirt and the blood and the filth had worked their way into every crevice he possessed, caking his hair and face - how he had wanted to cut it short, and only kept it long thanks to the advice of his Sindar advisors. He remembered the tiring dull periods between battles, and how there were always warring factions to be kept in check, commanders to be pacified, supply lines to organize, little squabbles to calm, and of course his appearance desired everywhere, for all wanted to know that the king was there, and that he had heard their grievances, and was confident the war was not going ill…

“Not surprising at all,” he agreed at last, softly. “War is - terrible, and tedious, and all-consuming. And you were fighting for a very long time.”

The smile dropped from Finrod’s face. “How easy it is to forget,” he murmured, “that you too went to battle. My gentle father! I am sorry. All our effort, all that pain, and in the end it was - useless.” He looked up at Finarfin, eyes pleading. “I really believed it, you know,” he said. “I believed it, when we set out on the road. That we stood a chance. That we could defeat the Moringotto, or at least hold him back from our home. That I could build a safe place for our people. Yet all was in vain, and you were wiser than I.”

Finarfin stood in the hallway, brush in hand, and felt the words strike to the heart of him. How he had longed to hear that, from anyone! For years uncounted as he had labored alone to build anew the trust between Noldor and Teleri, as Eärwen had looked coldly at him and then turned her face away, as his father was silent in Mandos and his mother retreated from him in grief. He had longed, in anger and then in despair, for someone - anyone - to come back, and say, You were right. I was wrong. I am sorry.

But now it rang hollow. Finarfin did not want that. Not if it came from his son, standing before him tired and in disarray. Not if it was paired with yet all was in vain. Not if it came at the price of Finrod’s tired eyes and hollow cheeks.

And besides -

Finarfin brushed past I am sorry with barely a thought, and said, “You shall not stand before me and name your efforts useless.”

This was another thing he had wanted to say to Finrod, and there was nothing now preventing him.

“Do you know,” he said, “have you thought - how terrible was the onslaught of the Valar in Beleriand! How bright the armor of the Maiar, how shining the eyes of my mother’s people! Círdan trusted us, for Ulmo’s sake; but even Gil-Galad was wary. How much more so the Noldor who were Doomed, the Sindar who refused the call West - to say nothing of Dwarves and Men! We very nearly found ourselves arrayed against an alliance of mortals and Avari before we could strike a single blow against Morgoth. And I do not blame them! How could they trust us, who were so tall and so strange, and came dressed for war?”

He paused to breathe, chest tight. Finrod was staring at him transfixed.

“And then,” Finarfin continued. “They saw me. Or rather - they saw you. They saw you in my face. And at once they laid down their arms.”

He stopped again. The moment was graven in fire on his heart: stepping out bareheaded and pleading in front of a crowd of shaking and dirty Beleriandrim, hoping they would just listen. The utter silence that had fallen. The clatter of falling weapons his son’s epitaph.

“Everywhere I went, I heard the whispers. Felagund. Atandil, Edennil, Friend-of-Men. Angolodh. You came before me and smoothed the way, as a father should do for his son - not a son for his father! There was not a place I could go where I was not gathered close to the hearts of the people. From everyone, I heard of you; by everyone, I was asked about you. Do you know - did you know - how you were loved?”

“Yes,” said Finrod. His breathing was ragged, and grief had settled upon his shoulders like the heavy mantle of his House: proudly worn yet wearying. “Yes. It was the greatest gift I have ever been given.”

“Then - then do not say useless!” said Finarfin. “For it was not. You were not forgotten. The Dwarves of Nogrod allied with us for love of Felagund; the Men of Brethil, for love of Nóm; the Sindar for Finrod the Beloved. I was - I am - so proud. My son! My son, who has surpassed his father!”

Finrod was looking at him with wet eyes. He did not move. 

“I did not expect this!” he said at last. “I expected - I do not know. Fury, perhaps. We parted in such anger; and if, as you say, our efforts were not vain, they yet led to pain and death.” His eyes were distant. “My little brothers! Yet you are kind.”

Finarfin, still clutching the comb, crossed the distance between them and gathered the other in his arms. Finrod’s chest rose and fell against his own; his golden head was laid upon Finarfin’s shoulder.

“If you think,” Finarfin said, “that I could ever love you any less, or welcome you with any feeling other than joy, then I think that you have not been paying attention.”

Finrod was still; and after a moment Finarfin stroked his son’s bright head, and said gently, “Come, hinya - let me at least take care of your hair.”

#finrod #finarfin #once again just detailing every fucking minute of finrods return cuz i have incurable brainworms #silm fic #my writing #earwen