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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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After such beautiful headcanons about Noble!Tav I now must ask about Noble High elf!Tav x Astarion

Did I indulge into reading about noble elven families? I absolutely did.

The Isle of Evermeet - the last true elven Kingdom in Faerun created −17,600 DR during the First Sundering. In the XIV century DR the island dissapared from Toril and many believed it was destroyed. However, the island was just moved to Feywild. In 1480 DR it returned back during the Second Sundering but it dwells in a state of coexistence between Faerun, the Feywild, and Arvandor MORE INFO

Astarion x Noble Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are one of Amlaruil Moonflower's many children.

Not too close to the throne, but still the member of the highest nobility.

The wanderlust, so common for young elves, forced you to leave to see the world.

You witnessed the Spellplague and, like many others, thought the Isle was gone along with everything you knew and held dear.

None of the magic portals worked. You were a princess with no kingdom and an elf with no home.

You kept leaving, forgetting everything but your name.

You meet elves like you here and there. But you don't like talking about your royal origin.

No need and no point.

Once you meet Astarion, you can't get rid of the thought you somehow know him.

You are the same age, and there are a few million elves on the Isle but you are sure he isn't from the Isle.

But his face, his surname, and some of his mannerisms are vaguely familiar.

The thing he doesn't remember anything about his past doesn't help.

In your reverie, you search for answers in your long 250 years of life.

Having to see your cruel mother and survive the court intrigues over and over again.

Astarion is bothered by it. He feels like you breach his privacy and you promise not to try it ever again.

But you aren't self-disciplined, and intrusive thoughts drag you through your memories.

Why did Astarion's face look familiar? Who did you think he was?

In the meantime, you travel. You are two elves, you have nowhere to rush.

You help Astarion to reclaim his identity.

He isn't a vampire, he is an elf!

You help him to remember his mother tongue, the True Tongue.

You tell him about the Isle, your royal family and ancestors.

He often mocks you calling you a runaway princess.

"Well, I should be grateful to be turned into a vampire. Otherwise, I would have no chance to approach you, my dear."

"Don't be stupid, we are thiramins. No one would dare to separate us."

That brings him comfort.

Should you die earlier than him, you will reincarnate like all elven souls do.

You will return and you will remember.

You eventually realize that the Isle was returned from the Feywild but what happened to its inhabitants is unclear.

Astarion doesn't want to know anything about it - the one last true kingdom of elves? Where you are a princess? With him, a vampire?

No, absolutely not. He isn't going there.

One day, you enter the reverie and get one of the earliest memories of your life in Faerun,

An elf with long silver curls. A ranger of the deep woods.

Emerald green eyes, pale skin, a grin.

"Dalar Ancunin, at your service, princess," he says in your memories, his voice echoing through the decade.

You remember him. You finally remember him. An elf born from two-half elves, who was blessed and cursed by inheriting his ancestors' features.

"It's funny to be born like that. No one knew what to do with us. So we decided to explore the world on our own and went to Baldur's Gate."

"Us?"

At that moment, Dalar's face darkened.

"We were twins, Astarion and I. He wanted to become a magistrate so he wouldn't have to live in the poverty. And I was too bored with books and studies. We… had an argument. A really bad one. And I left. Twenty years later I decided to reconcile but when I got back I only found his grave."

"I am sorry."

"The grave was empty. My brother wasn't there. And I am still looking for him. I don't know, it's been so long… But I just can't give up on him. Again."

Dalar.

You weren't close friends but you'd been in each other's life for a decade before parting ways. Members of the same adventure guild You suddenly remember his songs and his stories and how he called himself "a bastard elf". How he could literally foster any animals or beast they met on the way.

And he had a pet drake he called Nikym. "Dagger" in Elven.

You return from the reverie and look at Astarion with shocked eyes.

Astarion doesn't want to remember. Too much pain, too much sorrow- it seems like his brain just locked memories of his youth not to let Cazador learn of Dalar.

And you start talking. You try to remember every minute you spend with your old friend. What he liked, what he hated. How you sometimes woke up because Nikym was trying to eat your hair or how Dalar could shoot arrows with a blindfold.

You need to find him. If he is alive, if didn't leave Toril to try to live among the elves.

He must be there. Maybe he settled down somewhere, maybe he started a family.

How many decades will you need to catch his track though?

And Astarion doesn't have anyone else. Dalar said they were all half-elves (except for some long-forgotten ancestors). His family is long-dead.

Once you reached for your old friends they immediately pointed out where to look for Dalar.

"Always adventurer, always a traveler."

Astarion still hesitates, but, before he manages to say "no", you find what you wanted.

"The princess Moonflower in all her runaway glory! What does a royalty do in that wild place in the deep the night?"

You try to find the right words. To explain, to prepare. But Astarion has already stepped forward, staring into his mortal copy in disbelief.

You give them time.

Before Astarion manages to say anything or run away, Dalar Ancunin grabs him and hugs him.

They are different. A mortal and undead, a ranger and a rogue.

But similar at the same time.

You are a bit jealous because you got used to having Astarion all for yourself and now you have to share him with his brother.

But you get used to it. Besides, Dalar is your old friend,though forgotten for many decades.

And the drake, Nykim, accepts you both.

"I remember" Astarion once tells you. "I finally remember everything. My childhood, my youth, my death. My brother was searching for me and I just forgot about his existence."

A decade later, you three find yourself on the seacoast of the Trackless Sea.

Time to go home.

Whatever future you hold, it's there, in the distant Isle of Evermeet.

You notice both brothers are equally anxious. It will be difficult to lie about their origin and one of them is a literal vampire.

But you are adamant - you are in your own right to bring anyone along with you.

Astarion is your true love, your thiramin.

And his brother is his only family.

Both Ancunin brothers are coming with you.

For better or for worse.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

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searchingforserendipity25 · 9 months

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Maedhros builds Himring to be impenetrable, unbreakable, and inviolable.

He shows Fingon every corner, whenever he visits; for always it grows, alters like a beast with many skins. All the secret stairways and mind-wearying labyrinths, the pipework of thermal water that kept the hallways thrumming with life as if with heart’s blood.

In case of a siege, he says, for it might come to be that the hidden routes should serve as places for Fingon to bring reinforcements and supplies under the eye of the Enemy.

They both know what Maedhros might come to be; and he learned with diligence all the places the besieged might use to escape, or for trickery, where he might leverage an entry to the stronghold of his beloved, and close tunnels, and trap the red-plumed elves of the Lord of Himring.

“In case of a siege,” says Fingon, allowing that possibility only.

He looks down at Maedhros from where he walked ahead among the curling turret steps, familiar with the heart of the fortress. “But a siege shall not come. We, besiegers ourselves, shall have our day. In the days to come the land will ease its ceaseless winter, that flowers shall bloom in spring in the shadow of Himring.”

“Come to me in the summer of our victory, and Himring will greet you in splendour,” laughs Maedhros; and Fingon bends down as he reaches, presses Maedhros against the warm stones, captures the master of the castle with a dizzying kiss.

Himring is Maedhros’ masterpiece, and it outlasts the sinking of the continent, the sundering of the world.

The towers fall to ruin, are worn down into lonesome isolation. Himling island remains, still: all the turret walls shattered, worn smooth by the hands of the wind. Century after century; the gulls conquer it without mercy, build nests among the old pantries, atop the rusted metal of the pipes.

Sparse white grass grows through and around the shattered stones of the last worn steps. On rare days, before midsummer, desperate mariners make the journey to the cursed isle, to gather the small buds among the wreckage.

Men say they are bad to eat, but good to have; good fortune for sweethearts they bring, courage against the swells, and certain fidelity if worn on wedding days.

#ficlet #my fics #maedhros #fingon #russingon #the silm #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien

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thecryofthegulls · 1 year

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On Elwing's Bird Forms

In the educated opinion of me, a slightly wine-drunk semi-professional seabird specialist with a Tolkien hyperfixation, procrastinating from a work presentation I should be preparing let's gooooo.

Too many people think of Elwing in the form of a random bird thing, when there are so many interesting species!

First, the source text (emphasis by me):

"... they told that Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but Elwing with the Silmaril upon her breast had cast herself into the sea. Thus Maedhros and Maglor gained not the jewel; but it was not lost. For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Ëarendil her beloved. On a time of night Ëarendil at the helm of his ship saw her come towards him, as a white cloud exceeding swift beneath the moon, as a star over the sea moving in strange course, a pale flame on wings of storm. And it is sung that she fell from the air upon the timbers of Vingilot, in a swoon, nigh unto death for the urgency of her speed, and Ëarendil took her to his bosom; but in the morning with marvelling eyes he beheld his wife in her own form beside him with her hair upon his face, and she slept."

"On those journeys Elwing did not go, for she might not endure the cold and the pathless voids, and she loved rather the earth and the sweet winds that blow on sea and hill. Therefore there was built for her a white tower northward upon the borders of the Sundering Seas; and thither at times all the sea-birds of the earth repaired. And it is said that Elwing learned the tongues of birds, who herself had once worn their shape; and they taught her the craft of flight, and her wings were of white and silver-grey. And at times, when Ëarendil returning drew near again to Arda, she would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven."

The Silmarillion CHAPTER 24 OF THE VOYAGE OF EARENDIL AND THE WAR OF WRATH

Mute Swan (Cygnus olor)

Right out of the gate, a swan is a popular choice for Elwing. Makes sense, they are beautiful, regal birds with a graceful baring on the water. There is a strong association between mute swans and England, they are indeed an old world bird and as part of Tolkien's worldview as oak trees. They are also vicious and brave defenders of their young. A tough bird, symbol of the Teleri Elwing's elven clan. However, not the best for Elwing. They are not sea birds, and while powerful fliers, do not fly particularly high or far. Mute swans are heavy, needing a lengthy run on the water to take off with a clacking of their wings. Not the ideal shape to fly across the ocean undetected to find your mariner husband, or meet said husband in the morning sky when he comes back from being a star.

Dalmatian Pelican (Pelecanus crispus)

No, not a Great White Pelican, but a Dalmatian Pelican. More silvery than its pale African cousin, the Dalmatian Pelican has the advantage of being present in more Mediterranean climes, which might be representative of what Sirion was like (thank you @outofangband). Pretty much the largest freshwater bird, this choice for Elwing suffers the same problem as the mute swan. Not a sea bird, doesn't really do long-distance flights. Though I could imagine this large silvery-grey bird being mistaken for a cloud in the night, and you KNOW that the Silmaril is tucked nice and safe in that big pouch!

Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans)

Now that's a sea bird! Another popular choice for Elwing, this graceful soaring beauty is essentially the biggest flying bird in the world by wingspan, with a sweeping 11 feet/3.5 meters. The older they are, the whiter they become, with only bit of dark plumage on the wing tips and tail. The wandering albatross is the textbook example of a great white bird. Albatross adore storms, and can use strong (storm) wings to carry them over vast distances very quickly. They nest on steep hills, because they need the sweet winds to give them lift to take off. All in all, like the others above, large enough to carry a Silmaril without affecting flight capabilities. Though I really can't imagine Ëarendil cradling an albatross to his bosom, long wings flopping down on both sides of him. (Elros and Elrond are definitely albatross chicks muppets, as per @swanmaids' point).

Black-legged Kittiwake (Rissa tridactyla)

A gull! Yes, of course, but which gull? There are 54 gull species, and so many of them are herring gulls. But for Elwing? Ulmo would transform her into a Black-legged Kittiwake. A graceful, almost dove-like gull, Kittiwakes are bright white with wings topped in silver-grey. They fly like they are playing in the wind, and spend most of their lives at sea. Gorgeous sea bird. Ëarendil would hug. Am I biased because I love them? Maybe.

Ross's Gull (Rhodostethia rosea)

You want a more white and daintier gull? I was going to write about the Ivory Gull (Pagophila eburnea) but if we are going with a rare Arctic species, there are many good things about the Ross's Gull. I mean look at it! White and silver-grey with a rosy blush like it is continuously bathed in sunset, a black collar like Elwing is still wearing the memory of the Nauglamír. I also prefer to go with Ross's gull because every time I have seen an ivory gull in the wild it was slightly blood-stained (they feed off polar bear kills) which has very unfortunate implications in Elwing's case really...

But really, if you want a pure-white dove that actually goes sea for your Elwing imagery, go with ivory gull instead!

Roseate Tern (Sterna dougallii)

Terns are gorgeous sea birds with impressive flight capacity, and pack an absolutely ridiculous amount of fight and spite in 100 g. I have a scar on the top of my head from a tern chasing me off a beach where it was nesting. That beak sure pinches. Roseate Tern are particularly pretty, and if you subscribed to raven-haired Elwing, that cap is an excellent match. The adults also gain a pink sunset stain on their underparts, so you get that poetic match again. Terns would absolutely yell at Manwë, and probably have.

Northern Gannet (Morus bassanus)

Now if you think Elwing was pale-haired and blue-eyed, a Northern Gannet would be more for you. Northern Gannets are sea birds of great size, swift and fearless. They quite literally launch themselves into the sea. They are powerful enough fliers to evoke thoughts of storm-wings and clouds under moon. Gannets also follow boats, which works nicely with the imagery of bird-Elwing meeting Vingilot.

White-tailed Tropicbird (Phaethon lepturus)

Look at this beautiful thing, is she not fitting of a daughter of Dior, of Lúthien's line? I hope I see one for real one day. These long-tailed sea birds are excellent, graceful in flight, easy to see at a distance due to their tail. More active in the morning and in the evening, more to catch the morning and evening star. White-tailed Tropicbirds also come in a spectacular 'golden' variety. Absolutely fitting for someone named Star-Spray.

Snow Petrel (Pagodroma nivea)

When I first read the Silmarillion years ago, and I read "... as a white cloud exceeding swift beneath the moon, as a star over the sea moving in strange course, a pale flame on wings of storm" I immediately imagined a glowing white creature that I eventually witness in real life: the gloriously beautiful snow petrel. And while Elwing might not endure the cold and pathless void like a snow petrel would around Antarctica, I think she would revel in the shining feathers, the swift, fleet wings, and, as a feature of being a petrel, the tube nose that would allow her to smell and find Ëarendil anywhere at sea or in the sky. They soar with such joy. Perfect hold-to-your-bosom sized. Snow petrels are one of my favourite sea birds, and you should know more about them!

Like how they have the most hilarious defence mechanism:

...

Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta)

No absolutely not.

#honorable mention to snow goose northern fulmar white-bellied sea eagle and masked booby #dishonourable mention to all crane and heron species because it really doesn't make sense in so many ways to have Elwing become one #anyway this brought to you by my love of sea birds and my various bird guides strewn around me #gullcries #silmarillion #tolkien #ocean posting #elwing #earendil #silm meta #sea birds #really leaning into my handle here

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swanmaids · 20 days

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hey the Sleeper in the Tower of Pearl sounds so cool but I’ve never heard of her! if you don’t mind my asking, who is she? Why do you think she’s Idril?

No problem at all! The Sleeper in the Tower of Pearl appears in an early version of Eärendil (then Eärendel)’s journey to Valinor, and can be found in BoLT 2, in the “Tale of Earendel” section.

The Tower of Pearl is located on the “Twilit Isles” (BoLT 1) (floating islands in the Outer Lands, likely the earliest version of the Enchanted Isles that appear in Silm proper). Tolkien wrote two poems about the Tower which can be found in BoLT 2 (the Tale of Eärendel).

Inside the tower is a sleeping figure who is awakened either by Eärendil or his companion Littleheart (Voronwë’s son). Tolkien does not seem to have been sure on any details about the Sleeper, including their gender. In one note in a draft of “Eärendel”, Tolkien wrote “the Sleeper is Idril, but [Earendël] does not know.” However, this was crossed out. Another note describes the Sleeper as “a messenger that was despatched years ago by Turgon and enmeshed in magics. Even now he cannot leave the Tower and warns [Eärendel and Littleheart] of the magic”.

Some fans (including me) like the Idril draft. Tolkien seems to have been unsure for a while of what to do with Idril - the Tale of Eärendel has Tuor setting out to sea alone, and various notes have Idril either vanishing in grief, swimming after Tuor (!), potentially sailing after him along with Eärendel, sailing on a Flying Dutchman esque ongoing voyage on Earramë with Tuor, dying, or becoming the Sleeper. Eventually of course he settled on her Silm fate of sailing west with Tuor, “with Idril Celebrindal [Tuor] set sail into the West” and Tuor becoming one of the Noldor. “It was sung that Tuor alone of mortal Men was numbered among the elder race… and his fate is sundered from the fate of Men” (Of the Fall of Gondolin).

However, the fact that it’s not explicitly *said* that I&T reached Valinor offers a bit of ambiguity - as does this line in Of the Sun and the Moon and the Hiding of Valinor: “of the many messengers that in after days sailed into the West none came ever to Valinor - save one only: the mightiest mariner of song”.

In the Silm, the Enchanted Isles are said to trap anyone attempting to reach Valinor after the ban of the Noldor, making sailors weary and causing anyone who set foot on the Enchanted Isles to fall into a sleep “until the Change of the World” (Of the Sun and the Moon…). Vague! Therefore, I think it’s quite possible to combine the canons, and hc that Idril and Tuor made it as far as the Enchanted Isles, where they fell into an enchanted sleep in the Tower of Pearl, being woken by Eärendil, and Tuor then being counted among the Noldor.

#asks #the sleeper in the tower of Pearl #idril #tuor #earendil #the silm #bolt

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nientedenada · 1 year

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Is it fair to say Tiber Septim nuked Alinor? - The nature of Numidium as a weapon

Reposted from r/teslore. Yes. It's completely fair.

Lately, I’ve read and participated in a bunch of arguments over

whether it’s right to compare Numidium to a nuclear weapon,

whether it caused nuclear-weapon level destruction in Tiber Septim’s conquering of Summerset.

I’ve seen the argument that if you go by official Bethesda sources only, there is nothing to support 1 & 2. It’s alleged that only Michael Kirkbride’s unofficial writings support this. Specifically, this post:

Numidium's siege of Alinor: It's not the Brass God that wrecks everything so much as it is all the plane(t)s and timelines that orbit it, singing world-refusals. The Surrender of Alinor happened in one hour, but Numidium's siege lasted from the Mythic Era until long into the Fifth. Some Mirror Logicians of the Altmer fight it still in chrysalis shells that phase in and out of Tamrielic Prime, and their brethren know nothing of their purpose unless they stare too long and break their own possipoints.

That’s a reflection on how the Numidium worked in Alinor by one of the devs who wrote parts of this story about Tiber Septim and Numidium. I think it influences Bethesda official lore (as we’ll see when we get to ESO) and will continue to do so. However, we’re going to put unofficial lore aside for this post, and take a look at what the official lore says about Numidium and whether it supports the nuclear weapon comparison.

Numidium of course doesn't work like a nuclear bomb. That's not what anyone means when they're comparing it to a nuclear bomb. They're comparing it to a similarly feared horrible weapon of mass destruction. For us, the nuclear bomb represents the worst weapon imaginable, for Third Era Tamriel, it’s much the same way.

There are not many sources on Tiber Septim’s invasion of Summerset. The Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition, which is one of the main Tiber-era sources, is written before the Armistice with Morrowind and the invasion of Summerset. The anti-Imperialism game Redguard is also pre-Numidium, with Tiber Septim’s deputies searching Dwemer ruins for weapons. We never hear the story of the invasion from a Summerset source. We’re stuck with some very vague references. We know Tiber Septim used Numidium to conquer Summerset, but what happened there?

The Pocket Guide to the Empire, Third Edition says,

Thus, the Dominion thrived until the coming of Tiber Septim. The conquest and assimilation of Summerset into the Empire is remembered by many a living Altmer with horror only partially diminished by time. Certainly, the pride of the people has never recovered.

People argue over whether the “horror only partially diminished by time” refers to the horrific nature of the Conquest or to Altmer horror at humans conquering them. I believe that, from what we know of Numidium, it’s both, but the source here doesn’t say outright.

During the War of the Isle in 3E 110, the Maormer of Pyandonea were very nearly successful in conquering their ancient enemy, and the Altmer had to call upon the aid of the Psijics and the Empire to help defend themselves.

The Dominion’s ability to defend itself was still not restored 110 years after Numidium.

So, given how scant our sources are on the use of Numidium in Summerset, we have to look at the general cultural memory and opinion of Numidium in Tamriel, and at the one time we get a detailed canon look at its use: the Warp in the West.

Sotha Sil, quoted in the Truth in Sequence, calls it “the walking horror.”

But most profane is this: the walking horror that bears the Name, NM. The Brass Tower of Vanity. The mindless guardian of the Nirn-Prior. The Antipodal-God-Thing that reigns on the darkest pole of the sacred Nirn-Sphere. Of all the threats to Tamriel Final, NM is the greatest. Anuvanna'si. The Daedra can be banished in thought, but NM must be sundered on Nirn. It is the welded knot at the center of Anu that must be untied. The God-Puzzle. The Mainspring Ever-Wound remains silent on this point. And where there is silence, there is great wisdom.

In Where You When the Dragon Broke? the tender to the Mane speaks

You did it again with Big Walker, not once, but twice! Once at Rimmen, which we'll never learn to live with.

What happened at Rimmen with Big Walker that the Khajiit can never learn to live with? Well, there's an official Bethesda Q&A promoting Morrowind from 1999 that makes the nuclear comparison clear

Jodenjone! Don' let Marshee lie to you about Big Walker. The Blades took It from here, sure, but they din' take It back to Cyrodiil and rebuild the thing. Talos, he "annexed" a swath of our bounty-land in Ana'quinal and cleared the Khajiiti out by force. There's where he built the Hall of Colossus—a mighty name for a secret testing warehouse—and that's where Big Walker was born. And that's why that part of our Elsweyr is still poisoned glow-rock, where no cats go. Ach, for the lunacy of you Wayward Folk!

"Poisoned glow-rock". It’s not just the fans comparing Numidium to a nuclear weapon It's clear that was the devs' intention here.

The horror of the Numidium is also the foundation of the main quest of Daggerfall. Throughout the Agent’s quest, s/he receives letters from various random people and factions in game detailing the Numidium’s reputation.

The first letter the Agent gets reads

You have probably not heard the fairy tale of Numidium, but you need to. The legend dates back to the earliest parts of the third era [sic]. Numidium was supposed to be a giant so big his hands could knock the moons from the sky. I do not recall from the stories whether Numidium was supposed to be good or bad, but the legends used to scare me as a child.

Followed by another letter:

Numidium was Tiber Septim's secret weapon in his bid for supreme power: a thousand foot tall automaton, a golem or an atronach of sorts powered by a gem called the Mantella. The Mantella was infused with the life orce [sic] of Tiber Septim's Imperial Battlemage, and with it, Septim crushed all who stood in his way. After the complete and total defeat of all his opponents, Septim began using Numidium to crush the neutral royal families of Tamriel so that he could enthrone only persons he knew to be loyal. His Imperial Battlemage was furious at this use of his creation, and fought to reclaim the Mantella.

The letter writers aren’t certain how it worked or what it did exactly - which matches Tiber Septim’s secrecy, Numidium’s immediate destruction after its first big use, and the nature of a time-breaking machine that messes with people’s recollections of how things happened. But they are sure that Numidium was a horror, a weapon of mass destruction unlike anything else.

The people of the Iliac Bay would soon get a front row seat to that horror.

The Warp in the West is the only time in canon that we get extensive details on the aftermath of Numidium’s use. As could be expected from the general fear of the Numidium in the above sources, the picture isn’t pretty. We don’t know exactly how Numidium would have functioned in Summerset, but we do know that Numidium works by breaking time. The clash of many different narratives and timelines in the Iliac Bay brought about massive losses of life and property, and huge environmental damage.

The shorter account of the Warp in the West is in the Pocket Guide to the Empire, Third Edition. Bolding of phrases attesting to the destructive force of the events mine.

In the year 417, however, the province redefined itself in a most mysterious way. They call the event the Miracle of Peace. On the 10th of Frostfall, a strange force exploded over the Iliac Bay, displacing armies and decimating whole territories. Though its nature is still unknown, most Bretons believe it was the ancient Gods who had once made High Rock their home scouring the land, making it whole once again. Though it was a painful process for most - the Miracle is sometimes spoken of as the Warp in the West - the result of it is a province that is more unified than it has ever been in modern history. Where once there were a hundred small squabbling kingdoms, today, just two decades after the Miracle, there are five.

Even the ever-optimistic PGE3 admits it was a catastrophe for those who lived through it, but claims the resulting hegemonies and peace were worth it.

The Book, The Warp in the West, which is a private Blades’ report on the event is less circumspect about the details.

Speaking of the official “Miracle of Peace”:

The catastrophic destruction of landscape and property and the large loss of life attending upon this miracle is understood to have been 'tragic, and beyond mortal comprehension.'

And

The other remarkable features of these events -- mass disappearances, armies mysteriously transported hundreds of miles or completely annihilated, titanic storms and celestial phenomena, apparent local discontinuities of time -- fit comfortably into the notion that these events are part of a vast, mysterious divine intervention.

Mass disappearances of people, armies annihilated, titanic storms: all these are part of the catastrophe caused by Numidium. The Blades agents on the scene had more details. I’m quoting the bits that specifically attest to the destruction and harm caused by Numidium.

The Blades have on file few reports from agents dating from the "Warp in the West" period. Most of our agents were lost in the initial dislocations, and others were lost in the confusion after the event.

Most Blades agents in the area died or vanished in the Warp. Others fell to the after-effects.

The Report of Hammerfell Agent 'Briarbird' 'I was on assignment in the Alik'r Desert, a few miles south of Bergama on the 9th of Frostfall. I was encamped, as it was still early morning, when I felt the ground shake so violently, I was thrown to the ground. Dazed, I was aware of a great roar of a sandstorm, which alarmed me, as I had been on a high dune and had seen nothing like that on the horizon. It was on me before I was even on my knees, burying me and my camp.

The first detail on the “titanic storms”. Here, the ground shakes violently and sandstorm buries people in its way.

Briarbird continues:

When I crawled my way out of the sand, I realized that I must make haste and get to Bergama as soon as possible, as all my food and water had been swept away. The sun was just rising as I began, like I said. When I reached Bergama, it was nightfall. The town was in chaos, filled with the soldiers of Sentinel. The Lord of Bergama's fortress was in ruins.

Bergama got off better than other places, as we’ll see. The fortress is said to be in ruins the Sentinel armies have defeated its own troops (who can’t recall how or when it happened), but the town is still there.

Much unluckier is the next account:

The Report of High Rock Agent 'Graylady' ’I was, at the time of the Warp, undercover as a witch in the Skeffington Coven of Phyrgias [sic], in central High Rock. In order to give my report, I had volunteered for an expedition to gather supplies, which would allow me the freedom to reach my contact in Camlorn. I was traveling north-east along the foothills of the Wrothgarian Mountains, on the 9th of Frostfall, when I felt a great heat behind me, like a fire. I turned, but I regret to say I cannot tell you what I saw. The healers tell me my eyes were burned out of my sockets.

This bit btw, about the wave of heat, seems to be consciously modeled off accounts of Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivors.

I think I must have fallen into a state of semi-consciousness, for I distinctly remember falling as the ground seemed to give way beneath me. Then there was a series of explosions in the distance, to the south, and I heard high whistling noises that were getting louder, coming closer. I had my shield with me, and fortunately anticipated that volleys of some sort were falling from the sky. Though I could not see them, I could hear them coming from a distance away, and was able to use my shield to block them from striking me. The assault stopped suddenly, and I could smell smoke. I learned later that most of the forest of Ykalon and Phygias [sic] had caught fire, in an inferno that started further south in Daenia and the Ilessan Hills. Fortunately, I kept my bearings, and moved north, finally reaching a temple in the wilderness where my wounds were healed, as well as they could be.

People here experienced the Warp in the West as a fiery inferno and volleys coming from the sky. Even after the Warp itself ended, the forest fires that it began kept burning.

It was there I learned that there had been a three-way clash between Daggerfall, Wayrest, and Orsinium not far from where I had been, and that the land midway between their kingdoms had been decimated.'

‘Graylady’ doesn’t say that the land decimated was all wilderness or countryside, just that it’s the land midway between the kingdoms. In the heavily populated Iliac Bay, it would have included towns and villages and farms.

Lord Strale encountered a tsunami-like wave on the River Bjoulsae.

'We had just passed the delightful riverside village of Candlemass when the captain sounded the alarum. There, in front of us, was a colossal wall of water, at least thirty feet high. It smashed our barge to splinters before any of us had a chance to react. I woke up on the shore, having been rescued by one of my servants who had miraculously not lost consciousness. He and I and one other man were the only survivors.

Strale finds every town along the Bjoulsae on fire in the aftermath, with soldiers fighting along it.

there were seven great battles in the Iliac Bay, and no one could describe them at all, only their bloodsoaked aftermath

And

to summarize: on the 9th of Frostfall, there had been forty-four independent kingdoms, counties, baronies, and dukedoms surrounding the Iliac Bay, if one includes the unconquered territories of the Wrothgarian Mountains, the Dragontail Mountains, the High Rock Sea Coast, the Isle of Balfiera, and the Alik'r Desert. On the 11th of Frostfall, there were but four - Daggerfall, Sentinel, Wayrest, and Orsinium - and all the points where they met lay in ruins, as the armies continued to do battle.

And

The battles continue on, now months later, as I return to the Imperial City to make my report. What more do I have to say? They are bloody, violent clashes, as is always the case with modern warfare, but I have been to the blackened, desolate no-man's land between the four remaining kingdoms. No mortal army caused that devastation. I can say that the force that shook the Iliac Bay on the 10th of Frostfall 3E 417 was infinitesimally [sic] greater than the power these mighty kingdoms are wielding today.

Is the Numidium a nuke? No. Is it a catastrophic weapon of mass destruction, one of the worst weapons the people of Tamriel can imagine? Yes. Did it cause mass destruction in Alinor as well? Almost certainly yes. That’s how it works. It meddles with time, but not bloodlessly: Numidum retcons reality, but in the process it also burns, maims, drowns, and kills people, and destroys regions, as seen in the Warp in the West. It’s the perfect weapon to bring down an island nation that can otherwise defend itself against outside invasion.

That is why we compare it to a nuclear weapon. It's a comparison that I believe the developers intended as well, for what it's worth. And if I'm a bit over-passionate about the point, here's why. The developers went out of their way to show the horror of modern war and weapons of mass destruction. It's a bit of reality they injected into this fantasy world. I think it's worth taking in, rather than arguing that actually, Numidium isn't that bad, and it's an exaggeration to compare it to a nuke.

Even if you don't think you'd personally compare Numidium to a nuclear weapon, it should be clear that it's a quite rational comparison other people can make based on the evidence.

This post sparked some interesting and passionate discussions as well as some very angry politically-charged ones that are now thankfully deleted! You can read the full discussion here, since I don't want to copy large bits of other people's responses on to my tumblr. But I'll append some stuff I wrote in the comments.

We see something very specific with the atomic bombs, and with the TES reports of Numidium's wreckage, which I think are actuallly modeled in part on eyewitness accounts from HIroshima and Nagasaki.

Both are a horror that's incomprehensible. A single moment in which the entire world around the witness goes from normal to apocalypse without any seeming explanation or warning. The laws of reality themselves seem to bend and the earth tears itself to pieces. Nuclear war really was a historical departure from previous experiences in this regard.

If you compare historical atrocities by which was worse, the bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki didn't claim many lives compared to other horrifying deaths in WWII. They still haven't been followed up. All the many atrocities of the 20th and now 21st centuries haven't involved the use of nuclear weapons on populations.

But the threat of Nuclear war still stands out as something categorically different and horrible, the potential for the complete destruction of humanity in such a short time. The Numidium was probably only used once or twice in history, but it has the same terrifying potential, and is even more inexplicable to the residents of Tamriel than the nuclear bomb is to us today.

Roak67 made some interesting comments about whether we can trust certain sources, given Bethesda has retconned a lot. I replied:

You have to take any lore with a grain of salt, since it's bound to be contradicted at some point, but you're right that older sources like the Skeleton Man interview are most likely to be contradicted. However, I'd say it's important for a few reasons.

It's official lore, copyright Bethesda, and contradicts the idea that the Nuclear comparison is unofficial lore from Michael Kirkbride's pronouncements post-full-time-employment with Bethesda. Nope, the nuclear comparison was there during Morrowind development as shown by the "glow rocks".

The origin of the Halls of the Colossus has been retconned twice, first by Skeleton Man, then by ESO. However, unless there's something in the future that retcons the information Numidium was rebuilt, tested, and activated there, that lore should still stand. It's a big place with a spot for the Numidium, no matter who first built it. "Where were you when the Dragon broke?" refers back to what happened there, and continues to be in the games.

I think it was turned on in Rimmen and then went to Alinor in one incident. Breaking time is, as far as I can see, a function of the Numidium, how it works. It's possible it can work in other ways, as you've proposed, but it wouldn't be my favoured interpretation.

If Tiber Septim had better control over it - which is likely enough - I'd suggest he was still breaking time, because its advantage is getting to a place and defeating defences while the opposition is unaware, but could better direct it to hit his targets in Alinor.

About Summerset's lowered defence capabilities after Numidium.

I'm not making that assumption. That's simply the only baseline we have for the condition of the Isles post-Numidium. It's 110 years later.

However, we do know that prior to Numidium, Summerset always was able to push back invaders. According to the PGE3 at least they weren't able to after Numidium.

Did Tiber Septim use Numidium anywhere else than in Elsweyr (turning it on) and Summerset?

The legends surrounding Numidium posit that he was in the process of turning it on neutral parties, at and some point the Underking stopped him. According to the Arcturian Heresy, he didn't actually get that far. The Arcturian Heresy is clear that he only used it on Summerset Isle and the Underking destroyed it right after.

Daggerfall lore has him using it to conquer all of Tamriel, but no one after speaks of it, so I would guess that's been retconned? It's certainly been removed from later versions of the in-game book, the Real Barenziah. The Daggerfall version had the Numidium conquer Morrowind, that is gone from later games, and the new Numidium origin story is that the Tribunal gave Tiber Septim the Numidium in return for peace. All of the above leads to the lore post I've never written, but need to some day, which basically would be. "Yeah, Tiber Septim is a bad guy and he was MEANT to be a bad guy. Each TES game is learning more about stuff he did and there's rarely anything good." But it's a delicate subject, particularly since some devs. started going on like he was the best thing since sliced bread because he found CHIM. (Press X to doubt). Anyway, that's another story for another time, but the bottom line is the gods in TES are not necessarily good, they're just powerful. See every other Daedra who might help you out sometimes but has also been involved in some plot against humanity. And the Aedra aren't always nice either. Talos fits into the crowd as one of the better documented and more recent stinkers.

#tesblr #tes lore #Numidium #tiber septim #high rock #summerset #niente lore

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imakemywings · 1 year

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Why Ship Eärendil/Elwing?

I think there are a lot of good reasons so let’s have a look (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

1. They have a lot in common. Both of them went through pretty traumatic events as children that involved being driven from their homes by an attacking force, losing family to that attacking force (Eärendil’s grandfather, Elwing’s parents and her brothers), and ending up refugees. They’re also at this point the only Peredhil in Middle-earth. There are a lot of difficult experiences they share, which allows them to understand each other on a level people without those experiences can’t as well.

2. They grew up together. They grew up in the Havens at Sirion and childhood-friends-to-lovers is a fire trope as far as I’m concerned. It’s very possible they played together as kids and they were there through each other’s awkward adolescent phases and talked each other through other crushes before they finally got together.

3. They obviously care about each other. We don’t see the details of a lot of marriages in The Silmarillion. Many of them are left wholly to the imagination as to how those characters acted around each other, but Eärendil and Elwing are explicitly devoted to each other.

“Eärendil found not Tuor nor Idril, nor came he ever on that journey to the shores of Valinor, defeated by shadows and enchantment. driven by repelling winds, until in longing for Elwing he turned homeward....” (Emphasis added)

Eärendil attempting his first voyage to Valinor is beset by all kinds of dangers, but it’s missing Elwing that finally makes him turn back and call this trip a bust.

“For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved.” (Emphasis added)

Beloved remains one of the peak terms of endearment, lbr.

“Then Eärendil, first of living Men, landed on the immortal shores...And Eärendil said to [his companions]: ‘Here none but myself shall set foot, lest you fall under the wrath of the Valar. But that peril I will take on myself alone, for the sake of the Two Kindreds.’

But Elwing answered: ‘Then would our paths be sundered for ever; but all thy perils I will take on myself also.’ And she leaped into the white foam and ran towards him...”

Elwing really said “if you’re damned then I will be too.” Here she accepts Eärendil’s fate, just as Eärendil later accepts hers and chooses the Elven path.

“But when all was spoken, Manwë gave judgement, and he said: ‘In this matter the power of doom is given to me. The peril that he ventured for love of the Two Kindreds shall not fall upon Eärendil, nor shall it fall upon Elwing his wife, who entered into peril for love of him...” (Emphasis added)

Even the Valar recognize how much these two care about each other!

“And at times, when Eärendil returning drew near again to Arda, she [Elwing] would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven.” (Emphasis added)

After their journey, even in spite of all their grief, they still find joy in one another. Their marriage is still strong even through everything they’ve seen.

4. They saved Middle-earth together. These two did what no one else had managed and sailed back to the Blessed Realm to get help for Middle-earth. Clearly, power couple moves.

”Yet Eärendil saw now no hope left in the lands of Middle-earth, and he turned again in despair and came not home, but sought back once more to Valinor with Elwing at his side.”

Friendly remind this journey is supposed to be impossible, but they are determined to do it because they know Middle-earth cannot survive without the intercession of the Valar.

“Few of the Teleri were willing to go forth to war, for they remembered the slaying at the Swanhaven, and the rape of their ships; but they hearkened to Elwing...and they sent mariners enough to sail the ships that bore the hose of Valinor east over the sea.”

But for Elwing, the Teleri would not have engaged in the war effort at all; she alone convinced them to help.

“But Eärendil came, shining with white flame, and about Vingilot were gathered all the great birds of heaven and Thorondor was their captain, and there was battle in the air all day and through a dark night of doubt. But before the rising of the sun Eärendil slew Ancalagon the Black, the mightiest of the dragon-host, and cast him down from the sky...”

From start to finish Eärendil and Elwing have been committed to saving Middle-earth from Melkor’s menace and boy do they see it through.

5. Eärendil chooses immortality to stay with Elwing. In a mirror of Beren and Lúthien’s story, Eärendil surrenders a mortal fate to stay joined with Elwing.

“Then Eärendil said to Elwing: ‘Choose thou, for now I am weary of the world.’ And Elwing chose to be judged among the Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar, because of Lúthien; and for her sake Eärendil chose alike...”

Eärendil both trusts Elwing to make this choice for both of them and makes the same choice as her even though it isn’t his first preference.

6. Eärendil named his boat, which becomes the immortal vessel in which he sails through the skies, after Elwing. Can we say romance?

7. Elwing gives Eärendil the Silmaril. In general, most people who get their hands on a Silmaril are not keen to give it up. Yet Elwing passes the Silmaril onto Eärendil without a fuss and never again takes possession of it.

8. Their super rad mythological couple energy. Half-Elven couple who braved the sea to voyage to a realm it was supposed to be impossible for them to find to bring back divine help for their home? Last queen of the forest kingdom who in her moment of greatest despair is lifted up by divine forces and transformed? Hero of the last bastion of the Elves in Middle-earth who uses his mariner skills to make an impossible voyage, bearing back a jewel thought lost forever? Former Elven queen who now abides in a white tower on the sea and talks to birds and transforms into a bird herself to fly up to greet the return of her husband? Immortal captain of a flying ship that slew a dragon and now keeps watch over the stars? They are killing it y’all.

Feel free to add on o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

All quotes in this post are from the “Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath” chapter of The Silmarillion!

Convinced? Not convinced? Try these fanfic recs under the cut:

At the Water’s Edge by crackinthecup - G - 3,349 - Eärrámë is nearly ready to sail. Tuor and Idril’s days at the Havens of Sirion are drawing to an end. It is a time of loss and hope for all, and Elwing is no exception.

Elwing, Survivor by crownlessliestheking - T - Elwing and Earendil after arriving in Valinor.

From the Ones Who Came Before by Krita - T - 5,247 - Elwing was young when Menegroth fell. Melian's line is complicated, but far more so is growing into yourself.

A Glimpse of the Harbor by me - G - 1,925 - Elwing watched for the return of Earendil's ship.

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful by mochimilku - T - 1,185 - Eärendil, Elwing, and the ocean.

Let Us Taunt Old Care with a Merry Air / And Sing in the Face of Ill by me - G - 643 - When Elwing lands in the Havens, she befriends a young princeling from Gondolin.

The One With All the Birds by clothono - G - 46,543 - Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.

So Summer Comes by potatoesanddreams - G - 2,654 - Ada said he would be home by autumn equinox. It is winter solstice now.

Untitled by simaethae - G - E-squared family fluff.

#elwing #earendil #the silmarillion #meta #tolkien tag #let me just be clear I do not want to hear about why you think they were terrible #or why you want to portray them as shit parents #this is not the post for that #I am trying to be positive dammit #starwing #earendil x elwing #mine #earendil defense #elwing defense

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tarninausta · 1 year

Photo

And Eärendil said to them: ‘Here none but myself shall set foot, lest you fall under the wrath of the Valar. But that peril I will take on myself alone, for the sake of the Two Kindreds.’ But Elwing answered: ‘Then would our paths be sundered for ever; but all thy perils I will take on myself also. ’ And she leaped into the white foam and ran towards him

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, “Of the Voyage of Earendil and the War of Wrath”

[ID: A set of six graphics. The main colours are dark blue and white.

1: White and dark blue clouds at night. There’s a quote from the Silmarillion in the center of the image, reading “And it is sung that she fell from the air upon the timbers of Vingilot, in a swoon, nigh unto death for the urgency of her speed, and Eärendil took her to his bosom”blue waves with white foam crown

2: An image of the model Ashley Radjarame. She has brown skin and black wavy hair. Around her neck are two golden necklaces, and she wears golden earrings as well. Text on this image reads “Elwing the fair”

3: Two hands reaching towards each other. Text reads “All thy perils I will take upon myself also”

4: Dark bluewaves with white foam crowns. On this image, there’s a second quote from the Silmarillion: “And Elwing chose to be judged among the Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar, because of Lúthien; and for her sake Eärendil chose alike”

5: The stars at night. A third quote on this image reads “Then the far-sighted among the Elves thatdwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven“

6: The model George Hard. He has light skin, freckles, and reddhish-blond curls. For this image he is dressed in a dark suit. Text on the image reads “Earendil the Mariner”

/End ID]

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emyn-arnens · 11 months

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darkness lies on the foaming waves between us

Arwen & Celebrían | G | 1k | @lotrladiessource's LOTR Ladies Week Day 5: Elves & grief | AO3

The waters of the Anduin rippled silver in the moonlight as Arwen walked to the river’s edge. The night was still and silent but for the lapping of the water upon the banks. A breeze stirred through the branches of the willow trees that draped into the dark water and swayed in the current, and their leaves whispered and shivered.

Arwen walked into the shallows of the river until the water tugged about her ankles and wetted the hem of her dress, and she turned to where the Anduin flowed down to the Sea, imagining she could see the mouth of the river open to the bay and the moonlight gleam upon the waves as they fell upon the shore. She imagined she could see over the expanse of the Sea to where her mother waited on the silver shores of Tol Eressëa, waiting for a daughter who would never set foot upon the Lonely Isle.

The old tales said that if a person whispered their griefs into the water of the rivers or the Sea, Ulmo would carry their words over the Sea to those who waited upon the distant shores for their sundered kin.

Arwen knelt in the river and whispered over its water. “Adar will leave soon and join you in the West before the first frost of winter. He has written to me and said that he will sail ere autumn ends, for he has foreseen that two who will go with him will soon wish to leave these shores.”

She paused, listening to the soft splashing of the river as it carried her words away, before she continued. “The two who will go with him are periannath of great honor and renown, and they shall dwell upon Tol Eressëa in the light of the Blessed Realm. I see in the younger perian, Frodo, the same pain that afflicted you, and I hope that you might bring him comfort and ease his hurts, for he shall have need of companionship, being sundered from his kin.”

She watched the water stream through her fingers, running toward the Sea, toward shores that were now barred to her. She could not bring herself to say the words that she had come here to say. To utter them was to seal the truth that she could not bear to acknowledge as such.

“Elladan and Elrohir have not yet spoken of their wishes,” she said instead, “but I can see that their hearts lie in the West, though they love these shores. They would not be parted from you and Adar forever.” Nor would I , she added in her heart. But she had made her choice, and her path now lay apart.

The river tugged at her dress and her unbound hair as the words that she had meant to say faded on her tongue. Arwen closed her eyes, remembering her father’s tears as they had bidden each other farewell in the twilit hills of Rohan, the gathered stars the only witnesses to their grief that would endure beyond the breaking of the world. To say farewell once had been bitter beyond bearing; it had been an ache that had settled within her and never left. To say farewell again—

But she must. She had made her choice and tasted now only the first sips of the cup of bitterness that awaited her.

“I will not journey to the Havens,” she said at last and felt anew the bitterness of her choice, “nor take a ship over the Sea and join you and Adar in the West, for I have made the choice of Lúthien and have chosen both the sweet and the bitter. I will stay on these shores until my life fades and is spent, and my spirit will never find its way to the Halls of Awaiting, for it will go forth to where the spirits of Men go." Her tears fell into the water, and the river carried them away to where its waters spilled into the sea.

As Arwen knelt in grief beneath the moonlight, the water of the Anduin slipped around her in a caress and carried her words over the Sea to distant shores.

---

Elwing soared over the shores and cliffs, listening to the voices of the wind and water. The Sea bore news of great grief, and she dipped her wing and circled low over the dark waves until the sea spray dampened her feathers, bending her ear to the voice of the water. The waves rolled upon the shores in murmurs, and each spoke of grief beyond the ends of the world, the choice of Lúthien come again.

Pity and grief pierced Elwing’s heart, and she took wing on foam-flecked feathers, a white star in the darkness, seeking the one for whom the waves whispered.

---

Celebrían stood upon the shoreline as the sea foam washed over her bare feet. The voices of the waves were different tonight, full of sorrow, but she could not understand their speech. Nevertheless, her heart was heavy with foreboding as she watched the dark water. The moon shone pale over its expanse, and the crowns of the cresting waves glistened silver in its light.

A flutter of wings pierced the silence, and Celebrían glanced up to see an albatross descending before her in a fall of feathers, gradually taking the form of an Elf. Elwing stood before her, and her white feathers fell from her and washed away in the sea foam. Her face was graven with sorrow.

“I bring news of your daughter,” she said. “The Sea has carried her words here from the shores of Middle-earth.” And she told Celebrían all that she had heard.

With a cry of grief, Celebrían bent into Elwing’s embrace, stricken, and her tears fell into the foam of the Sea.

#lotrladiesweek #lotr #arwen #celebrian #elwing #lotr fic #tolkien fic #fotfics #my fic #feeling very iffy about this one but i'm tired of fussing with it

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big-cheesy-productions · 1 year

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Character Intro: Jhara Ghandri

Jhara "The Spider" Ghandri

Pathfinder Character Introduction

Posted the ball outfit without even introducing Jhara first oops.

Name: Jhara Ghandri

Gender/Pronouns: Cis woman, she/her

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Pansexual

Age: 211

Race: Drow

Class: Magus with Ranger Dedication

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Origin: Sailor

Place of Origin: The Corsian Isles

Backstory: Jhara was born on the surface after her parents fled the Underdark, where civil war threatened to destroy everything they knew. Jhara has spent her life sailing and dreaming of adventure. She was recruited in to the Horizon Watch, a ranger guild that roams and protect the high seas. After a freak rift tore their ship apart and sundered her crew, Jhara found she had unusual new abilities. She will do whatever it takes to find her lost crewmates and bring them home.

Feel free to send me any asks about her! I'd love to talk about her more!

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sillylotrpolls · 10 months

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(Relevant reading below poll)

Today's poll is courtesy @enide-s-dear!

Thus Maedhros and Maglor gained not the jewel; but it was not lost. For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved. On a time of night Eärendil at the helm of his ship saw her come towards him, as a white cloud exceeding swift beneath the moon, as a star over the sea moving in strange course, a pale flame on wings of storm. And it is sung that she fell from the air upon the timbers of Vingilot, in a swoon, nigh unto death for the urgency of her speed, and Eärendil took her to his bosom; but in the morning with marvelling eyes he beheld his wife in her own form beside him with her hair upon his face, and she slept.

...

On those journeys Elwing did not go, for she might not endure the cold and the pathless voids, and she loved rather the earth and the sweet winds that blow on sea and hill. Therefore there was built for her a white tower northward upon the borders of the Sundering Seas; and thither at times all the sea-birds of the earth repaired. And it is said that Elwing learned the tongues of birds, who herself had once worn their shape; and they taught her the craft of flight, and her wings were of white and silver-grey. And at times, when Eärendil returning drew near again to Arda, she would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven.

#lotr #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #silm #poll #polls

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gale-heart · 11 months

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Character Profile ~ Ilyssae Galeheart

(Art by @moonlitvesper )

~ The Basics ~

NAME: Ilyssae Galeheart

AGE: Night elven equivalent to a human’s early 20’s

BIRTHDAY: May 13

RACE: Shen’dralar Highborne

GENDER: Female ; cis (she/her)

SEXUALITY: Homoromantic (questioning bi but w/ a strong female preference)

MARITAL STATUS: Widowed

~ Physical Appearance ~

HAIR: White

EYES: Gold

HEIGHT: 6’ 4”

BUILD: Lean

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Two thin scars slicing through her left temple and upper left lip, magical burn scars on her right palm and forearm

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A battered brown leather satchel, often carrying one or several spell books and notebooks by hand

FACE REFERENCE: Ha Ji-Won

~ Personal ~

PROFESSION: Mercantile deckhand, squallshaper, assistant navigator, disaster mage

HOBBIES: Traveling, reading, cooking, knife collecting, book binding, flying, stargazing, brawling, magical tinkering, learning new areas of magic

LANGUAGES: Common, Darnassian, Draenic (rough), Thalassian (rough), Orcish (even more rough)

RESIDENCE: A cabin aboard the Fiona’s Pride

BIRTHPLACE: Feralas

RELIGION: Non-denominational

PATRON DEITY: Undevoted, but developing an admiration for Aviana

FEARS: Confinement, being stripped of her magic, spiders, lions, portals (both casting and using), things with too many heads

~ Relationships ~

SPOUSE/PARTNER: Mythandos Starspire (deceased)

CHILDREN: None

PARENTS: Eseria Frostmantle (mother - alive, estranged); Arelorn Silverbough (father - deceased); Eoselle Gliderill (alive - legal guardian/mentor)

SIBLINGS: Thareldis Stormglade (alive - elder half brother); Kerrius Sagefeather (alive - fraternal twin brother)

OTHER RELATIVES: Lost to time; likely a surviving naga, high elf, or Nightborne relative somewhere

PETS: Three house cats, one frostsaber mount, one very angry betta fish, some less angry shrimp

~ Traits~

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between

~ Additional Information ~

SMOKING HABIT: never / tried but didn’t stick / sometimes / frequently / to excess

DRUGS: never / tried but didn’t stick / sometimes / frequently / to excess / Arcane magic is a hell of a drug

ALCOHOL: never / tried but didn’t stick /sometimes / frequently / to excess

~ RP Hooks ~

Shen’dralar: Ilyssae’s mother was never on fantastic terms with the other Eldre’thalas Highborne, and Ilyssae and her brother kept largely to themselves during those last couple centuries before Dire Maul was abandoned. That being said, some older Shen’dralar may remember seeing Ilyssae in passing, or have even suffered her presence when she was a petulant, brooding youth!

Field Research and Academia: Ilyssae went through a variety of teachers and learning institutions before finally clicking with her mentor Eoselle. Her magic studies these days are mostly independent, but she’s spent enough time in Stormwind, the Azuremyst isle, and Dalaran that fellow wizards and scholars might have worked with her on one thing or another however briefly!

Extended family: Naga, blood elves, high elves, Nightborne, or even the spidery fal’dorei—elves are kind of known for having evolved any which way in the aftermath of the Sundering, and Ilyssae’s family tree is full of holes after millennia of neglect. It’s entirely possible that she has a long-lost relative walking around in a different shape.

Fence-hopper: Although she is technically still an Alliance citizen, Ilyssae distanced herself from the kaldorei after the frosty reception her kind received post-Cataclysm (a decision she’s finally starting to second-guess) and is now working for a trading caravan crewed by oddballs and outcasts from both the Alliance and Horde. Maybe you’re one of her mixed-faction work acquaintances—or maybe you see her as a faction traitor and have a serious bone to pick with her.

Druid…?: Ever since coming back from the Shadowlands with golden eyes (and that’s a whole other story in itself), Ilyssae seems to have a new affinity for natural magic. However, she’s still stuck in the rigid thinking of a mage, so she’s always looking for Druids who have the patience and inclination to help her figure out this new side of her magic.

~ Out Of Character ~

IN-GAME: Ilyssae (formerly active on Wyrmrest Accord, mostly active on a private RP server these days)

OOC BLOG: @tired-space-crow (I follow back and send asks from here)

TIMEZONE: Mountain (MST)

#character intro #character introduction #ilyssae galeheart #world of Warcraft #world of warcraft rp #epsilon RP #night elf #highborne

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echo-bleu · 11 months

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How about number 54 for Gil-Galad?

Thank you! This took me a while, but here you go!

54. The moment when reality starts to make sense again

Also on AO3

“Your Highness.”

Gil-galad frowns at the unexpected voice. It shouldn’t be unexpected. It’s dark still – no, his eyes are closed, but the first light of dawn is coming through the window. His eyelids stick together for a moment, and he almost regrets the effort to open them when it gives way to the sting of dreadful dryness in his eyes.

He reaches up to them, but his arms are around something – someone. Right, Elrond. Gil-galad can feel his regular, slightly raspy breathing against his chest. He’s sleeping in the way of Men, Gil-galad thinks. He was exhausted.

He cried himself into unconsciousness.

The deep unease, the anchorless grief come back to him in increment as he remembers. The last few days are a blur in his memory. All he can see in his mind’s eyes are the waves. The great storm, grey moonless night in the middle of the day, and the waves.

He needs to get up. He needs to see his counsellors, have people inspect the damage and look for survivors. He needs to know how much of his land these waves took away. He lost an entire country once, strip by strip, until it was all gone. He can’t bear to see Lindon be destroyed the same way.

And they don’t even know why.

“Your Highness?”

There is not a shred of doubt that the event was not natural. The waves reached three times the height of the harbour buildings. The harbours are gone. Most of the coast, too, probably. His beautiful city of Mithlond, halved overnight.

Ëonwë came to them late in the evening of the second day. Númenor is gone, he said. Eru Illuvátar himself broke the world and remade it. They all felt a great change, a sundering in their heart from their Western kin. Gil-galad will reckon with that part later – he can’t begin to encompass that just yet.

Númenor is gone. Númenor, the Isle of Gift, and all of her people. He thought Elrond was going to burst into flame – he’s never seen him so angry. Full of rage and of mourning for his kin, a whole island of them, forever gone under the waves. Gil-galad, whose sole remaining kin on Middle-Earth is Elrond, Galadriel and her young daughter, whose lost family will one day be reborn in Aman, cannot fathom the grief. He remembers Elros fondly, as a young kinsman and a fellow king – this is Elros’s entire descendance, whose names Elrond faithfully keeps in his books, gone in a flash.

“Your Highness.” The voice is louder. “I’m sorry to wake you, but you asked to be informed immediately if we had news. Númenorean ships has been spotted coming from the west.”

Ships?

Gil-galad deliberately breathes out. He untangles himself from Elrond’s still sleeping form and sits up, pulling his discarded shirt over his head in the same movement.

There are survivors. All of Númenor is not gone.

The world briefly spins as he stands up, and a confused, barely conscious part of him wonders if that’s what it’s like to live on a round world.

Nothing is ever going to be simple again, he thinks.

But then, has anything ever been simple? For Gil-galad, last heir of the Noldor on Middle-Earth, king of a crumbling land, doomed never to make things right? For Elrond, half-elf and half-man, forever sundered from his twin and his kin for choosing to stay? For poor Celebrimbor, pursued by the shadows of a family he rejected and an Oath he didn’t take, fallen at last to the worst of betrayals? For Galadriel, now the very last of the Exiles, forbidden from ever going home?

The world rights itself, and Gil-galad takes the few steps to the door on a round world. He has refugees to welcome and care for. That is something he knows how to do.

With one last look at his sleeping, grieving herald, he walks out, ready to face reality for another day.

#gil galad #elrond #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #echo's fanfiction #prompt game

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tathrin · 8 months

Note

Hi! How does a pirate au with gigolas sound?

From this prompt-meme.

Oh definitely not like something that's been slowly simmering in the back of my mind ever since I first saw this thing months ago.

We're going with a sort of East India Trading Company/Golden Age of Piracy era-mythos for our vibes, and a world that has less magic and epic battles to its history than Middle-earth for our setting, but one that still has our various fantasy species running around.

Númenor is sort of like an England/America hybrid, in that it's a newer land than the main continent, very expansionist/colonialist in attitude, and simultaneously an old power, because it has a bunch of colonies on the old continent now, and a belligerent attitude towards everyone else. They are the largest sea-power and like to claim even more dominion than they actually have.

Meanwhile to the south-west of them we have the islands of the Teleri (Eressëa) which are widely described as "the last free elven isles," and mainly stay that that by being A: not enough trouble to conquer and B: too much trouble to conquer. They keep to themselves (and their waters shrink a little more each year as Númenor keeps pressing in) so no one feels inspired to deal with them, and there's a lot of risk to trying to because water gets weird around those islands. Lots of shipwrecks, lots of strange creature in the waves. (The Teleri get some sort of mingled siren/kraken vibes here.) The eastern elves tell stories of a farther island beyond theirs, where no mortals have ever gone; where the seas themselves are sundered so as to protect their inhabitants from all encroachment...but more people these days know those are just fairy tales. There is no Western Shore; there are no Undying Lands. That's all just old sailors' stories and superstitions.

Anyway, Middle-earth itself: very old-school Europe vibes going on here, with lots of little kingdoms always sniping at one another for advantage, and whose power-balance has been kind of skewed by the Númenorian Colonies of Gondor and Arnor—really not colonies anymore at this point, because Númenor looked back east generations ago and decided to return to their ancestral homeland and claim it again farther back than any living mortal can remember. That doesn't stop Númenor from treating them like colonies still, which Denethor, the current ruling steward, isn't thrilled by. His people are more torn on the issue, with half of them liking the regalness of being Númenorian and the other half resentful at not being able to rule themselves. They even had a king once, for a few generations, but that collapsed during the civil wars called the Kinstrife, which were rumored to have been instigated by Númenor itself, although no one was ever able to prove that. There are rumors that an heir escaped the slaughter (Anastasia vibes!) but no one has been able to find proof of that. It may be no more than a pretty story. At any rate, no king has been seen in Gondor for generations.

Beyond the colonies of Gondor and Arnor, Númenor has other strong allies on the continent as well: Erebor, for one. The dwarves of the Lonely Mountains were driven from their home by the last of the dragons long ago, and the deal that their king made to acquire Númenorian assistance for taking it back from Smaug left the dwarves more indebted to the Númenorians than they intended. If only they could have found the Arkenstone, and been able to buy Númenor off with that the way they had planned...but if the Arkenstone was ever among Smaug's horde, it must have vanished at some point before the siege. (Some dwarves insist that it was there, had to have been there; and the only way it could be gone was if Númenor betrayed their word and burgled it when the dwarves' backs were turned—but that is a claim they cannot prove, alas, and so they must live with their debts to the White Island.) Erebor's might is more of craft than warfare, but those crafts have been put to good work on behalf of Númenor's military, and their armies are now the best-outfitted in the world, thanks to Ereborian smith-craft and manufacturing. They are allies far too valuable for Númenor to ever give up, no matter how richly they repay that debt.

As for the elven-lands, perhaps the most notable is the smallest: Rivendell. Founded by the brother of the First King of Númenor, Rivendell occupies a unique place in Númenorian headspace: it is deeply respected, but also looked down on a little. Elrond was clearly the lesser brother, choosing a life of lore and healing over the leadership that should have been in his blood; and yet, he is known for that wisdom, and his healing arts have saved many lives. He sails to Númenor occasionally to share his knowledge with their healers (although less often with each century) and to walk the lands where his brother once lived and died, and he is well-loved there...but they prefer the legend of Elrond to the reality, and their leaders more and more often welcome him with strained smiles than they do with open ones. Elrond will not participate in any endeavour which would lead to war, and the suffering that comes from such conflict; that does not mean that he approves of Númenors politics in these days of domination, and while he is always polite and respectful, he does not hesitate to offer its rulers his true opinions and advice.

They don't really care for that. But he is Elros's brother, so they force smiles and grateful platitudes, and then try and bundle him back onto his ship and off to his lovely but insignificant little valley as quickly as possible, and try to think about him and his dour warnings as little as they can when he's not around.

Mirkwood is the largest elven-kingdom, and the only one these days that truly counts as a kingdom. The lords of Númenor aren't keen on such a large nation existing without paying even lip-service allegiance to them, but on the other hand...does anyone really want alliance with Mirkwood? It's a terrible place, dark and dour and full of monsters. The elves there aren't like other elves; they're less wise, less refined...more dangerous. Feral, almost. There are rumors that—well, really it would be easier to compile the stories that aren't told about Mirkwood than to start listing all the ones that are. Death lives in those black trees. Even the water is dangerous to drink, more likely to cast you into a hundred years of dreams than to refresh your thirst. There are spiders in there the size of horses, deer with all their bones on the outside of their skin, squirrels that are venomous and moths that suck your blood. It is said that if you hear laughter in those trees, you might as well slit your own throat before the merry sound dies because you'll never escape the terrible, laughing things that hunt there. The stories even say that there are ghosts in those woods, wandering the south lands by the ruined citadel that towers over those gnarled black trees.

No one sane would live in Mirkwood. No one sane would even set foot in Mirkwood. No one sane should want anything to do with Mirkwood—and Númenor does not. Even the Daleman, known for being provincial weirdos, know better than to actually go into those black trees, even if they're deranged enough to trade goods with the elves that lurk there. Well, let them; and on their own heads be it when the wicked elvenking leads his people out for a feast of man-flesh!

(Some of the stories are true, but even the other elf-lords no longer know how many. Mirkwood has done far too good a job of spreading those terrible tales for anyone—maybe even them, sometimes—to remember which are false, and which are real. Even other elves steer-clear of those black trees, these days.)

The last elven-realm, Lothlórien, is something of an outlier among all the lands of Middle-earth: it is a small realm, which neither offers nor seeks trade or commerce with others, and yet which wields an outsize power in the affairs of greater nations. Lórien is a land of lore and mysteries, and it is said that the elf-witch who rules those golden trees can read a man's secrets merely by glancing at his eyes. Númenor wishes no war with the eerie elves of Lothlórien. Lady Galadriel is consequently invited to every grand affair of state, and never ever wanted there. Sometimes she attends (likely just to remind Númenor that she is real, and should not be trifled with) but mostly she stays in her trees, whispered about yet unseen.

As for the other lands of Middle-earth, many of them are tired of being to some degree under Númenor's heel, but not to the point of daring to risk open war against them. They all remember what happened to Eregion when Ost-in-Edhil's smith-lords though to oppose Númenorian domination.

Now, the world has settled into a sort of tense peace, where nation-states fight through commerce rather than the battlefield, and use their armies more for posturing and prestige than actual warfare.

Into this world, enter the pirates.

Númenor's domination of the sea has not gone unopposed. Círdan long defied them, until they sent their entire navy against him, landing soldiers to crush the Havens and take him and his lords prisoner back to Númenor for trial and punishment—but though the Havens fell, Círdan was not found there. Some say that he and all those closest to him were slaughtered, and Númenor covered it up; others say that he managed to slips their nets and sail West, and find the promised shores beyond the islands of the Teleri; still others say he is on those oceans still, hurrying Númenors ships as a rebel captain of a small pirate fleet. Whenever a ship fails to return to harbor, there are whispers that it fell to Círdan's rebels...but more likely it was claimed by waves and weather.

Probably.

The stories spread anyway, and those who sought to defy Númenor's will listened, and so they began too to seek the sea. Small, single pirate ships are no material threat to Númenor: their navy is too large for the sacking or disappearance of a few ships here and there to make any difference to them. But the stories of pirates being able to defy their might and slip away free of consequence...well, that might have more lasting repercussions. Certainly Númenor's leaders must think so, for they have devoted quite an undo amount of effort to hunting down and destroying these pests otherwise. Unless, of course, one believes the rumors that Gondor's lost heir is out there somewhere amongst the pirates, capable at any moment of returning and staking his claim to the throne—a claim which, thanks to the faltering and intermingling of generations since, gives him actually the most direct claim not only to the throne of Gondor but to Númenor itself, now that the line of the founding kings has broken so many times...provided such an heir even exists of course, which he does not.

Clearly.

And now, it's finally time to turn to our cast of characters: the good ship Fellowship was originally a merchant vessel, sailing the waves on behalf of the wealthy Took family. Hobbits do not go to sea very often themselves, but they appreciate life's comforts enough to finance ocean-going vessels, and are quite happy to pay the necessary tariffs to Númenor to have their protection on the waves, and there are always Men in Bree who are happy to sail on Hobbit ships (the rations they provide are always much nicer than you get on any other vessel!). Old Bilbo was one of the rare Hobbits who actually followed his sense of adventure all the way out to the waves, and was captain of the Fellowship in deed as well as name, and when his nephew was old enough he brought young Frodo along with him.

(Every gossip in the Shire said they would both come to a bad end, drowning just like Frodo's parents did; but even the sneering Sackville-Bagginses never expected pirates!)

For many years, the Fellowship went about its trade-routes quite respectably, causing no trouble and earning no malice. But then...well, the trouble started with that fellow called Strider. He was one of many sailors who signed-on from Bree one day, and should have been no more special than any of them. But there was something about him that always seemed a little disreputable, a little dangerous—and so it soon proved.

No one back on shore is quite sure how it happened. The nearest anyone has been able to piece the story together is that there was some sort of shipwreck, or a raft that escaped a shipwreck, and there was something on it—some chest or treasure. Whatever it was, it proved to be too much temptation for the sailors of the Fellowship. Instead of making a quick salvage of the wreckage and continuing on their way, they abandoned their course and their cargo's intended destination, and went from being respectable merchants to pirates.

Old Bilbo (who had retired some years ago) was scandalized, of course; positively scandalized. But of course, Bilbo had always been something of a scandal himself, and there were far too many suspicious eyes on him after everything went south. He sold Bag End, packed up his things, and disappeared from the Shire three weeks after the first wanted-for-piracy posters of his nephew went up. Rumor has it he went to Rivendell, but no one from Hobbitton has ever gone after him to check; Hobbits don't generally care for travel, and Rivendell is such a long was away. Must more pleasant to stay home by the fire, and gossip.

And gossip folk do, and not only in the Shire. Stories of the Fellowship quickly came to spread far beyond Hobbit-lands, and they got bigger as they went. Soon it was being said that Strider was not just a brigand, but a romantic scoundrel too, who had managed to steal the heart of Elrond's daughter before running away to sea before her brothers could revenge themselves upon him. He had a magic ring, which he had used to enthrall Frodo, and declare himself captain of the boat. He had a magic sword, which could break itself into pieces as short as a dagger and then reforge itself as long as a boathook at need. He had elf-blood, and was decades older than he looked. He had served in Gondor's army, and in Rohan's, and had learned healing from Elrond himself. He was one of the Rangers, the secretive wanderers that spread rumors against Númenor and hunted for treasure and forgotten beasts in the wilds.

The more outlandish stories even claimed that he was that lost heir, and his real name was Aragorn or Arathorn or something of that sort. Nonsense, of course—but nonsense that Númenor wasn't happy to hear being whispered up and down the Misty Mountains.

Their displeasure grew when word began to spread of Strider's companions: Frodo somehow recruited three of his friends to the ship (Hobbits at sea! What were the youth coming to?) but he had arranged for one of their more land-locked fellows to act as a blackmarket middle-man, passing coin and supplies and information back and forth between Bree and the boat. Fredagar Bolger was soon caught and arrested, but someone broke him out of prison before his trial could begin, and he disappeared as thoroughly as Bilbo had. (Rumors said that the Brandybuck and Took families had helped in that jail-break, for two of their own were among Frodo's crew, but no one could ever prove that; indeed, no one who had been on duty at the jail that night reported seeing anything. Fredagar had been there when they went to sleep; the next morning, he had been gone, and no one ever saw him in Hobbiton again.)

Even more outlandish than the idea of four Hobbits at sea, the stories insisted that they had a dwarf on the ship as well. Everyone knew that dwarves hated boats, and feared the ocean; everyone knew that a dwarf would sooner shave his beard than go to sea. Nonetheless, the stories persisted: the Fellowship had a dwarf. Rumor claimed that he was a disgruntled son of Erebor, who had joined Strider's band of pirates out of disgust for the debt that Númenor held over the Lonely Mountain; others insisted that his father had been friends with Bilbo (in addition to his other oddities, Bilbo had been known to have friends among the dwarves, somehow!) and that it was Frodo who had somehow coaxed a dwarf away from land and out to sea. Whatever the motivations that had brought that dwarf to the Fellowship, there was soon no denying that he was there: only dwarven craftmanship could have kept that ship afloat through all of Númenor's efforts to sink it, and sailing faster than any of their own vessels could follow.

In addition to the dwarf, there was an elf among the crew as well. A less absurd notion on the surface, but strange when one dug-down to the details, for this was no Teleri; nor was he even one of the elves of the Havens, or from Rivendell. No, this was a Wood-elf of Mirkwood, one of those half-feral creatures of death and shadow and knives in the dark. His eyes were keener than any looking-glass that Númenor could fashion, and he could see as clearly in the starlight as men could under bright sun. With those elven eyes in their crow's nest, there was no chance that the Fellowship could ever be sneaked-up upon again; and those who survived attacks by Strider's pirates told stories of his terrible bright laughter echoing across the waves like the ringing of doom-bells in their dreams.

(There was surely, surely no truth to the rumor that the elf and the dwarf were any more than grudging crew-mates; elves and dwarves were notoriously distrustful of one another's people, and since Eregion's fall there had been no sign of reconciliation or camaraderie between any of their kind again. The sailors who reported that the two had been heard cheerfully competing like friends during the battles taking Númenorian ships were mistaken; the ones who claimed that they had witnessed victory-kisses were suffering from sunstroke; and the shaken survivors who whispered that the elf had lost his mind and slaughtered an entire crew himself when one of their number managed to wound the dwarf were surely just suffering from shock. No single elf, not even a Mirkwood elf, could slay an entire contingent of Númenorian soldiers like that; and no elf would ever be spurred to do such a thing for a mere dwarf. These stories were just one of Strider's many attempts to undermine Númenorian rule, by attempting to foster an alliance between Erebor and Mirkwood based on ridiculous false rumors about the joining of two of their people. Such things simply did not happen.)

The worst of the Fellowship's many assaults upon Númenorian sea-supremacy was when they took a ship that had been carrying Rohan's princess out to make a state-marriage on the White Island. The rest of the Rohirrim they let go, including the king's nephew, whom one might have expected them to hold for ransom; instead they took only the girl, and no ransom demand ever came back for her. Indeed, rumors soon began to whisper that she had been somehow seduced to Strider's crew as well, and could be seen with a cutlass in one hand and her fair hair streaming in the salt-air, a fell smile on her face, whenever the Fellowship boarded their prey, her own unfettered laughter ringing out alongside the elf's deadly merriment.

That was a crime too far. Númenor needed to stop Strider's pirates, and stop them now. Gondor dispatched two of her own to go to sea and hunt him and the Fellowship down: Boromir and Faramir, sons of the Steward and noble warriors of stout heart and stalwart arms. Everyone assumed that that would be the end of the Fellowship, for no pirate had yet escaped bold Boromir, and Faramir's cunning wits would surely be enough to outsmart some ragged Ranger. For months they pursued the pirate vessel, chasing the Fellowship through storm and fog and sun-kissed waves; then, far off the coast of the Teleri islands, a hurricane rolled in, and both ships were lost from sight behind the grey rainclouds.

Imagine Denethor's fury, and Númenor's wrath, when the next stories that came back from the sea told of how bold Boromir and cunning Faramir had joined the terrible crew...

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