Cute!

perfection

“I don’t know what to say” The words came out with sobs as the High King looked at them sternly. Just moments before he had been mad enough to yell, but the anger was turning into regret as the person in front of them was uncharacteristically bursting into tears. He had never seen them cry before and the shame that was starting to grow inside of him from knowing he was the reason for the tears streaming down their face was becoming uncomfortable.

“I am sorry” his words came out more softly than the angry words he had spoken just moments before, and for a moment he was unsure if they had heard him, but as soon as they looked up with tears still clearly in their eyes he knew that they had, “It’s not actually your fault, this is just how I react whenever someone raises their voice at me” their sobs seem to grow stronger. He started to become angry again, but at himself for not knowing better. “But it is,” he said “It is my fault and I am sorry”, they looked at him in disbelief, they truly couldn't believe that the High King was actually apologizing “What?” Was all that came out, and Gil-Galad thought to himself that hugging them seemed like the best solution to comfort them but he didn't wish to do so without asking, just in case he triggered something in them that would make them even more upset than they already were, “Do you need a hug? Or do you want me to leave?” He expected to be told the latter, he expected to be told to leave and never to speak to them ever again. But they did not, because they pulled him into a tight hug. He had no idea how long they stood there, tightly embracing each other, all he knew was that he never wanted to let them go.

(the sound of everyone's hearts shattering)

Ещё пару слов об грустной Элрондовской мордочке...

A few more words about the sad Elrond face...

he is beautiful

THE RINGS OF POWER + THE BEAUTY OF ELROND PEREDHEL.

THE SILMARILLION (+ descriptions of Elrond’s father and foremother) - J. R. R. TOLKEIN.

“Of surpassing beauty was Eärendil, for a light was in his face as the light of heaven, and he had the beauty and the wisdom of the Eldar and the strength and hardihood of the Men of old […]”

“Melian was a Maia, of the race of the Valar. She dwelt in the gardens of Lórien, and among all his people there were none more beautiful than Melian, nor more wise, nor more skilled in songs of enchantment.”

The voyage west at the end of Return of the King is extremely funny to me, because just look at who's on board. You've got:

Frodo Baggins, hero of the Shire, in need of healing but also excited to see Valinor and meet the legendary elves who live there, a gentle soul

Elrond Halfelven, as kind as a summer, looking forward to peace west of the sea, probably wants to go chill out in a cottage with his wife for the next thousand years

Which seems fine. And then we get to everyone else.

Gandalf, cheeky bastard who's gotten so used to being a weird old wizard in Middle-Earth that's he's forgotten what Maia are supposed to act like, will immediately cause problems

Bilbo Baggins, noted storyteller, definitely planning to break into Aule's halls to see his dwarf friends, will ask all the elves weird questions and then sing about their lives and deaths in front of them, will immediately cause problems

Galadriel, who came to Aman half for Celebrian and Elrond's sake and half to taunt all her cousins about being the only one of them to survive the First Age, enjoys causing problems, will immediately cause many problems

(Also, to be clear, these are not three isolated problem-causers, they absolutely spent the entire trip to Valinor actively planning to give Amanyar society and the Valar an aneurysm.)

I just love the idea of Elrond, now reunited with Celebrian, and Frodo happily having tea with Elwing and Earendil, with nothing to interrupt them but the gentle sounds of the tides.

Meanwhile Galariel, Bilbo, and Gandalf are collectively bullying Mandos into releasing Maglor Feanorian from the halls because:

Bilbo wants to read him his translation of the Noldolante, which is written as a cheery Hobbit drinking song

Elrond always complained about how Gandalf and Maglor were both insufferably vague about advice and Gandalf needs to make sure he's more infuriating than Maglor as a matter of his wizardly pride

He still owes Galadriel money

Inspiration

Something that I find helpful is to find a song when writing and put it on repeat to really get in the mood. I've been really busy with schoolwork lately and writing articles for it, and also writing things for this blog. I've been listening to Liv Tyler's "Houses of Healing", which she did with Howard Shore. Truly a masterpiece.

Chapter I: Love and Friends Lost (More Than Life Itself, Severus Snape x OC)

Author's note: Here's Chapter I, finally! Severus Snape drags Helena Collins out of bed to see if the rumours were true, if the Potters were really dead. He can only hope...but, I mean as we all know, it's futile. We all know how Snape feels, but how does Helena feel, watching her best friend fall apart in front of her eyes? Yet, someone has to stay strong for them, right?

TW: Angst (lots of it I guess)

Tags: @koopakid03 @craftyhufflepuff @easy-there-leftovers

----

“Merlin’s beard, slow down!” Helena Collins hissed as she struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the figure before her. She hastily brushed a strand of her long brown hair away from her face. She had hastily dressed, throwing a deep blue robe over her white nightgown. The snow fell like little pearlescent droplets, beautiful in the dark night. Her nose and cheeks had turned pink from the cold, and she shivered. She followed the figure, and he took her arm, Apparating them both from Hogsmeade to Godric’s Hollow.

Up ahead, Severus Snape marched with great strides. He gripped his wand tightly in his left hand, holding it out in front of him slightly as he walked. He stopped abruptly, causing Helena to crash into him. “Gods, Severus, what-”

She peered out from behind him, and her eyes widened. The house in front of them was a familiar structure to her. She had spent many days here, and to see it in such a state…with the side of the house seemingly blown apart.

Without a second word, he walked ahead, pushing the gate open and stepping into the front yard of the Potters’ home. Helena followed, taking her wand out from within her robes. She managed to catch up to him and paused by his side.

“This is it,” she said to Severus, whose eyes were dark and severe, even more so than his usual dour countenance. She pushed the door open, finding it unlocked. Her breath hitched at this. Lily Potter would never leave her house door unlocked.

James might, but never Lily.

She stepped cautiously into the house, lighting her wand with a “lumos” charm. Light bloomed from the tip of her wand, lighting up the darkness in front of her.

She walked through the living room, Severus trailing behind her. The sight that greeted them at the top of stairs made her nauseous. James Potter lay on the ground, that familiar smirk on his gone, replaced with a look of what could only be described as determination and shock.

His round glasses were askew, and his wand knocked aside. She knelt by his side, brushing his face with the back of her fingers. His skin was ice cold. She shook her head as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Dead.

Helena gently brushed her hand over his eyelids, closing his eyes, before getting up, but Severus had already moved on. She mumbled a prayer for James and following Severus into the next room.

He stopped in the doorway, his knees visibly buckling. He let out a sob as he fell to his knees. When Helena stepped into the room, she knew why. She stilled, and for a moment, it was so quiet that she could hear her heart slowly start to shatter.

The debris on the floor, the figure with vibrant red hair that lay amongst it. Lily Evans, one of her closest friends at Hogwarts. Now, she lay dead. Helena watched as Severus picked up Lily and held her to him in an embrace, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Lily had been a great friend to Helena, and a great sorrow overcame her as she glanced at her lifeless friend, cradled in Severus’ arms. However, her heart clenched soon after, a feeling that had nothing to do with her grief about Lily’s death.

She knew how much Lily meant to Severus. She was his first real friend from their childhood years. Lily had told Helena the tale many times over, she and Severus bonding over the fact that they had magical abilities in the Muggle town of Spinner’s End. Lily was there for him when the Marauders teased him endlessly, and even when the three of them hung out together to study or for breaks, Helena had felt, more than anything, like a third wheel.

“Severus…the boy,” Helena said softly, walking over to the crib, where one year old Harry Potter was crying. There was a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and it bled. She picked up the boy and rocked him gently, shushing him.

“Oh, Harry…” Tears pricked her eyes again as she imagined him having to grow up without his parents. James and Lily, who had been so excited to have a son to raise, to grow up with. Now, they would never be able to hug Harry again, to play with him and see him go to Hogwarts. She pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to Severus.

“What do we do?” She asks, her voice hoarse. “We cannot leave him here.”

----

Seeing Helena holding baby Harry stirred something in Severus Snape. He didn’t know what it was, a foreign twinge of an emotion he’d never felt before. But he brushed that all aside. He approached her, wiping his face, and leaned in to whisper, “I have word that Hagrid will be arriving soon, on Dumbledore’s orders. He will take the Potter boy to Professor Dumbledore, who’s currently at Number 4 Privet Drive, for Potter to live with his aunt.”

He watched as Helena frowned, no doubt recalling the unpleasantness that was Petunia Evans. Lily had told her about Petunia's unique disposition quite often, and Petunia's attitude irked Helena to no end.

“Them?” She grimaced. “Those god-awful-”

She stopped herself. “We cannot send Harry to live with them,” she said pleadingly, tears shining in her blue eyes. Those blue eyes. The beautiful shade of blue he had always loved. He didn’t want to see her cry, ever. Wait, what?

Why did he feel this way?

“The Headmaster has said so himself. Harry’s protection can only last as long as he lives with family, as…vile as they are,” he replied, his voice cool and calm. He took the baby from her arms and laid him back in the crib, his fingers brushing over the raven hair on the child’s head. “We must go before we are found, otherwise…”

He didn’t need to continue. The implications were clear. He watched as Helena stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We must go,” she echoed softly. He took her hand, and they Disapparated.

That night, as Helena laid in her bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of her quarters, her heart wept. For Lily and James, and Harry who had been oprhaned at such a young age...but also a love she knew she couldn't have. She hated it, her mind thinking about Severus this way when Lily and James had just died.

That night, as she recalled how Severus had held Lily in his arms, she knew that it could never be, and it was time to let go.

But could she let go? That was a question that only time could answer.

Attention all LOTR fans!

I believe myself to have been f-cked by the tumblr algorithm from the time of my blog's inception.

When I first started, just over a year ago, I made a "like or reblog this post if you like LOTR," to seek out people to follow, and to announce my presence.

I got notes in the very low double digits, whereas another LOTR blog that was also new at the time got HUNDREDS. Both of us barely had any content at the time.

I believe that tumblr users are simply not seeing my content due to something I did early on my blogging course. I don't believe myself to be under a shadow ban -- I think it's something else.

So prove me wrong, tumblr. If you see this post, please like or reblog if you are a LOTR blog, post about LOTR, or are simply interested in LOTR.

I am not necessarily looking for more followers. I just want to conduct an experiment to see if people are seeing my posts.

If I do not get a substantial amount of engagement on this post, I will simply delete my blog and start over. But I need to know if it's necessary before I pursue such a substantial undertaking.

I need a scene where Gil-galad comforts Elrond and tells him that none of this his fault.

You can tell when Gil-gald looks down at Elrond in that "Durin will come" scene that he pities him, but ultimately, they are in the middle of a battle. The king needs to take charge or they'd be slaughtered.

But Elrond is shattered. And I feel like he's going to blame himself. He was the commander. He'll think, "If I had kept charging."

"If I had left Nenya in Lindon."

"If I had just done more..."

But ultimately, Eregion was falling even before they showed up. I really don't think anything Elrond did would have prevented it from being destroyed. Maybe if he'd kept charging they'd have had better odds, but they were still massively outnumbered.

And I just need Gil-galad to tell him it's not his fault.

Tolkien Masterlist

Hey everyone! Here, I'll be putting links to all my writing and art so you can go see them. Also, for convenience.

I just want to say, to all of you who have been so supportive here on Tumblr, hantanyel ("thank you" in Quenya) from the bottom of my heart.

Also, requests are OPEN! For those who've sent in requests, I'm working on them, please give me some time.

Multi-chapter series

High Queen of the Noldor

Characters: Gil-galad, Elrond, Itarille (OC, High Queen of the Noldor and sister of Elrond)

masterlist (tba)

Rude Awakening (art)

Noldoriel of Eregion

Characters: Annatar (Sauron), Celebrimbor, Mirdania, (eventual) Glorfindel

masterlist

Characters

Ereinion Gil-galad

Across the Seas Stressful Night My Heart in your Hands (tba)

Elrond Peredhel (Rings of Power and Lord of the Rings)

I've Got You Overzealous Herald

Celebrimbor of Eregion

Not Strength, But Light (drawing)

Glorfindel

Work of Art

Morgoth hated the Feanorians. Or no, that's not quite it. He hated the Finwëans, he loathed them.

The whole line of Finwe had his hatred (and the hatred of Sauron as well, but that's a bit different pice of cake).

He hated them because that whole lineage, from Finwe himself to his very last descendants were the only ones of this world who could look him in the eyes and stand straight, to oppose him.

(Because Luthien doesn't count, now does she? She wasn't fully of the Eldar after all, no. She was other, and half. But the line of Finwe had no such advantages!)

Morgoth hated and feared them, thought not in ways that often could be perceived.

He saw weak, worthless elves who could look at him and say 'you are nothing'. Elves who could look the Darkness into the eyes and burn brighter, bright enough to banish the shadows.

Finwe, who stood between him and the Silmarils (Morgoth was wrong, Finwe wasn't protecting the Silmarils only). The High King of the Noldor who knew he will die and died with his head high and back unbroken, with eyes fearless and blood boiling with fire (where did you think Feanor got it from huh?).

Feanor, who slammed the door in his face, who spat and ragged and could not be contained. Feanor who he manipulated but couldn't corrupt. Feanor who lost only due to himself, whose death was his own no matter what Morgoth would give to be able to say that the Spirit of Fire was his at the end.

Maitimo, Maedhros, who endured torment and torture, humiliation and agony under which any other would break. Nelyafinwe who was rescued and came back, making himself the wall and shield between Morgoth and the whole world. Russandol who died by his own hand, because of his own pain and his own mind, his own actions. He who was never Morgoths, even at his lowest.

Maglor, a singer of such renown and talent one could be forgiven for mistaking him for a Maia. Makalaure who bend the reality in ways that should have been impossible to the elves and that were alien to Ainur. Kanafinwe who walks upon Middle Earth, enduring through his pain because it is his, his crimes, his mind, his hands. He is his own.

Celegrom who was hild, of the forest and rivers and streams, of the Hunt. Turcafinwe who rode against dark beasts and hunted in Oromes train long before Morgoths was released. Tyelkormo the Fair, the Cruel, master of his own soul, untamed and free as the wind. He who looked upon the shadows and walked right through them, he who looked at it and grinned with blood on his mouth and said at it 'i am better'.

Caranthir, never seen or heard but always there. Morifinwe who walked the thin line of Dark and Light with ease seen in none other before. Carnistir who burned with cold fire and walked in the shadows of others with skill unparalleled. He who was called The Dark, and he who carried that name with grace of the night sky. Unbending, master of his own life.

Curufin, so like his father and yet so different. Atarince who instead of jewels made draggers, he who forged armour that somehow was as unbreakable as the house that wore it. Curufinwe, The Crafty they called him, not knowing how close to the truth they were. He burned brightly, which made it all more tragic when he met his own end.

Ambarussa, one never without the other, red hair as the fire raging within. Amrod and Amras, wild as Celegrom, yet as silent as Caranthir. They who were twins, one an extension of the other. They who were so like their brothers, while being entirely different. They who burned the hottest.