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g-m-kaye:

Inside the ruins of Gondolin…

ok so I know that Gondolin was pretty much flattened (and then of course lost entirely beneath the seas along with west Beleriand) - but I guess this is a slightly AU, self-indulgent imagining on my part as a means to sketch a bit of pre-3rd Age Elvish architecture!
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queenerestor:

I always comfort myself with the fact that no matter how badly I mess up, I will never mess up as badly as literally every character in the Silmarillion

@greenekangaroo @urloth
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Hmm, so has he stuck close to Elrond ever since? Also, how did he take Elros deciding to be mortal and fucking off to Numenor? Because Graves, even AU elf Graves can carry grudges like no one else - he would’ve forgiven and understood Elros’ choice for the man’s own sake, but he saw (and kept seeing, every day, every year) the consequences that choice had on Elrond, who became a bit of a miserable, lonely bastard until he met Celebrian (and we all know how that ends…)
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the-tater:

Earlier today, recently-arrived prince and intrepid explorer Findekáno, well-known harpist and first son of current High King Ñolofinwë, unexpectedly returned to camp on the back of a giant eagle while carrying most of his cousin, also current High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo.

“I was wandering around the mountains near Thangorodrim, looking for a nice place to sit down and maybe hitch a ride with a passing Orc patrol, when suddenly this great shadow descended upon me and Thorondor showed up,”  Findekáno said earlier, pointing to the giant eagle he rode in on. “He even showed me where Cousin Russandol was, which was pretty nice.”

Findekáno, fifty-second place winner of the All-Valinor Archery Competition three hundred and fifty years in a row, had been last seen setting foot in Beleriand and was rumored to have run away to search for his missing cousin three weeks ago. High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo, colloquially known as “Cousin Russandol,” disappeared when his supposedly fool-proof ambush was counter-ambushed by the Dark Lord Morgoth over a century ago.

Findekáno reportedly found his cousin hanging from one hand on a mountain and was about to prove his archery skills when the Eagle suggested he use a melee weapon instead. Findekáno, who placed ten thousandth in the All-Valinor Knifework and Lockpicking Competition a hundred and twelve years in a row, apparently missed his blow, hitting his cousin in the wrist instead of the chain he’d been aiming for.

“It was a good blow,” Findekáno insisted. “I managed to take off his hand in one cut, which I’ve never been able to do before. And I didn’t even drop the knife! Thorondor managed to catch Cousin Russandol, although he accidentally swallowed his hand, so I guess they’re not reattaching it anytime soon. And Thorondor was so sorry about it he even offered to give us a ride home!”

Thorondor, colloquially known as the greatest of Eagles and quite possibly the hand of the King of the Valar in Middle-earth, added that he would love to give more rides to Noldor, especially those who are “going hunting or expected to lose a limb or two in the near future.” 

He then added, “I would like to clarify that we are not a ferry service, however, and should not be ridden lightly. Also, no journeys longer than three days.” To summon Thorondor, just go to an open field with at least a hand’s worth of meat and shout his name until he responds.

Neither possibly-still-current-High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo, nor any members of his court, could be reached for comment.

@greenekangaroo @urloth
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greenekangaroo:

myrkvidrs:

Turgon // by 面堂かずき@8/12東ク-37b

@hamelin-born
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admirable-mairon:

doegred-main:

ila-221b:

so I was reading stuff about Quenya when I came across this: while speaking “the Elves made considerable use of the concomitant gestures”, and then about Tolkien’s love for italian, and.

all I can think of is Fëanor making the big speech and rallying the others while gesturing like

or refusing to give the Silmarils to the Valar like “it’s all very sad but I don’t give a single fuck lol”

or simply to anyone who addresses him “wtf do u want”

AND AKDJDHAKDJ IM SCREAMING

I OBVIOUSLY NEED SERIOUS HELP I’M SORRY

(the first one translates as I’m gonna set the studio on fire lmao)

a) From now on the Noldor are Italian

b) From now on the one and only Sora Lella is Miriel Therinde

Miriel Therinde answering to Finwë’s “I want more kids”

Old footage of Miriel Therinde when people misspeak about sewing

Old footage of Mirel Therinde about her favourite birth control method (the gif says: “sorry if I use my hands but I like it like that, it always comes better like that”) 

Miriel Therinde on humility (the text is about people telling she is the best at doing something and she agreeing, humbleness aside)

Bonus Arafinwë to his brothers after the darkening

Bonus Fëanor about people denying the thorn is useful 

Bonus Curufin about Quenya without the Thorn

Does this mean Nelyo lost half his ability to speak after Thangorodrim?

Or did Curvo just make several different attachable hands for him so he had hands for all different sorts of situations?“

@urloth @greenekangaroo
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ncfan-1:

laurelsblue:

Inspired by the Atlas of Prejudice.

*hides*

“Weird kinsman.” *snorts*

“Not as good as Daeron Kinslayer.” *snorts a little harder*

“Second-favorite nephew.” *snorts a little harder* (I guess Celeborn’s the favorite; sorry, Finrod, you’ll just have to settle for second-best)

“Red is for land illegally occupied by Kinslayers” *Breaks down laughing*

@urloth @greenekangaroo @elenothar
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“How much farther?” Fingon called into the wind. “How much farther can you bear us?”

The eagle’s cruel, hooked beak did not move, but his great voice echoed in the minds of those that huddled upon his back.

“I am Thorondor, Lord of Eagles. My wing beats are the crack of mountain thunder and when I stoop to kill it is the strike of lightning. My wings span thirty fathoms and my strength is the strength of the rising storm. I can carry you as far as is needful.”

“Thirty fathoms exactly?” said Fingon. “And how much do you weigh?”

Thorondor blinked his golden eyes. “What?”

“We’ve been doing some calculations back here,” Fingon said, oblivious to his confusion. “The average harpy eagle has a wingspan of about a fathom and can carry its own body weight - say twenty pounds - for short distances. If we were to extrapolate your weight and scale linearly, you’d be able to carry our combined weight with ease.”

“But the matter is vastly more complicated than linear scaling,” croaked his cousin. “Based on wingspan and weight, an unladen eagle would induce a velocity change on air of almost eight miles an hour - forgive the approximation, I don’t have parchment or sufficient blood - and would require a tremendous amount of energy.” 

“Factoring in the additional weight of two adult Eldar-“

“-plus armour but sans several litres of blood-”

“-the energy requirements would be ludicrous. And that’s without getting into the tensile strength of muscle, bone, etcetera.”

“You understand,” said Thorondor slowly, “That I am a maia of Manwë, cloaked only in the seeming of an eagle?” He was remembering again why, Oaths and murders aside, he found the Noldor such a thoroughly disagreeable people. 

“Well yes,” said Fingon the Valiant. “But that’s no excuse for the crafting of a shoddy fana.”

“O Heirs of Finwë,” said Thorondor. “Behold! For we have found precisely how far I can carry you and it has nothing at all to do with the power of my wings and everything to do with the limits of my patience.” He folded his wings and dived towards the mushroom patch of tents that marked the Noldor’s camps upon Lake Mithrim’s shore, his passengers clutching tightly at his feathers and at each other.  

They landed in a hurricane rush of wind that tore several tents from their moorings, and the raking of great claws that tore great furrows in the brown earth of the lake’s shore. 

”Right,” said the Lord of Eagles, turning his head to peer at the elves upon his back. “Fuck off.”
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felagund:

middle earth meme: [2/5 elves] Ereinion Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor

“Don’t you know!” said Strider. “Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings. Gil-galad is Starlight in their tongue. He overthrew the Enemy, but he himself perished.”

@greenekangaroo @urloth
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actualmermaid:

chestnut-podfic:

Partially inspired by this post of @actualmermaid‘s. Down with swan!Elwing, long live pelican!Elwing. 

Practical considerations:

Swans are not seabirds- swan!Elwing would not have done terribly well flying from Sirion to the middle of the blasted ocean whereas pelican!Elwing could use her special drag-reducing low flying technique or just swim ragefully underwater

Pelicans are very large indeed, among the heaviest of all flying birds. Even a Vala must have some trouble with the law of conservation of mass, and elf->bird poses some definite dilemmas. Go for the largest bird possible!

Why dangle your Silmaril precariously off a scrawny little bird-neck when you could make a bird with a built-in Silmaril pocket 

But if you really have to have the Silmaril hanging from the bird neck for ~ambience or w/e, pelicans are still superior. Swans fly with their neck parallel to the ground, making it very easy for a necklace-mounted Silmaril to slip tragically into the ocean, whereas pelicans fly with their heads practically resting on their bird shoulder blades, like a girl whose unnecessary male dance partner at the club has just tried to kiss her. Far more stable. 

Pelwing

And lastly, this image: 

Judgy black-and white sword bird, neck bag glowing with all the glory of the light of Aman: Plummets sword-first to the deck

Eärendil, struggling to “take into his bosom” an enraged 25 lb bird with a hallowed combination pike/satchel bag for a face: “It’s me wife!” 

And lastly lastly, if you’re into that depressing symbolism, how about the pelican who pierces her own breast to feed her young, or sometimes kills them herself and revives them with her own blood and suffering. How about that, huh.

tfw you get Elwing Discourse adjacent material in your mentions and you wonder what’s going down this time

j/k, this is great

@greenekangaroo
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imindhowwelayinjune:

@snartha appeared on our skype call tonight wearing a wooly grey hood thing and within 3 minutes we’d invented a new OC.

She had been an early prototype.

An unnecessary one, Sauron admitted to himself later, but he’d always been a stickler for perfection and couldn’t bear to set his Great Plan into motion without having done a dry run first. Experimentation was important, he was a scientist, he was an artist, he was a performer –

It made sense to have a dress rehearsal.

She had been no one of importance – a woman of mean birth from the nameless hills, with little power and less an ambition. Her anonymity had been an important control, he had thought at first, though he did realize this made her hardly representative of what was to come. Still, the important factors manifest despite this in the years after Old Nan had curiously slid that ring onto her bony finger.

The long life, for one.

The magnification of her most potent personality traits for another.

(The fact that these were good-naturedness, an almost pathological worry about others catching cold, and a zeal for crochet had made Sauron frown a little at this perversion of his gifts, but still. One couldn’t be choosy with a prototype.)

When she had died at last, or hadn’t, her spirit was fully under his thrall, and he rejoiced, for it meant his plan was to work, and the Nine – gleaming in their leaden honeycomb deep within his forge – would do what he had dreamed of:

Provide him with an army of wraiths; potent slaves; undying, biddable, powerful beings.

The fact that Old Nan hung around was annoying, but unavoidable. She drifted around in her old cowl with the herringbone pattern, embarrassing Khamul by draping a muffler around his neck and chiding the Witch King for going out to pillage the Shire with ‘nary a mitten, for shame!’

The Nine, to Sauron’s surprise, not only tolerated but venerated her, which gave him some pause, even jealousy. Surely he should be the only one his Ringwraiths venerated - but then, respect for one’s forebears was ground deep into the bones of these Wraiths Who Had Been Men, and as such he did not forbid their deference to the Wraith Who Had Been A Grandmother.

Besides, he didn’t know what he’d do without her tri-color, heel stitch, fingerless gloves.  

@greenekangaroo  @urloth
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themistyroad:

| Noldor | Invention | Discovery | requested by Anonymous 

The Ñoldor - those with knowledge - were the second clan of the elves and Finwë was the first to come to Valinor and became their king. The Ñoldo who came to Aman spoke the Ñoldorin dialect of Quenya. They were also known as Deep Elves, Gnomes, Golodhrim, Aulendur, and Golug. The Ñoldor are accounted as the greatest of the Elves in lore and smithcraft and they typically had dark hair, except for those who had Vanyarin blood.

@urloth  @greenekangaroo
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orlandobloom:

His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven’s field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.

Idris Elba in Thor as Gil-Galad for Ellie!

@greenekangaroo @urloth
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hamelin-born:

Based on an AU idea originally belonging to greenekangaroo - I have the author’s permission to work with this idea. Based on the idea that Finwe/Miriel/Eol was a thing before the first two decided to head to Valinor.

Night, Sky, and Stars

The avari were strange in form and feature from the Elven-kin who dwelled in Valinor – and yet, despite the crudeness of their clothing and strange cast of their features, they were still, unmistakably, elvish.

Keep reading
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princemaedhros:

elves + alphabet // part I

inspired by (x)

@greenekangaroo

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