I Love How There’s So Much Gil-galad On My Page Teehee

Poor Elrond

His hotness level just reached 10,000+ Brutal Badass Achievement Unlocked. I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. I just follow them.

✨Between the Mountains and the Sea - WIP✨ Little back-story below!

Soooo this all started because I noticed how Gil-Galad often keeps his hands in front of him one on on top of the other in a strong grip.

I see this detail as being nowhere near to convey a relaxed stance, but rather possibly indicating him feeling anxious and troubled by his thoughts (P.S. the man needs a vacation :( ).

Séredhiel and Gil-Galad will slowly build and deepen their relationship on mutual trust, understanding and feeling safe in each other's presence, and this would be one of those moments setting them in that direction.

Around the first years of Second Age, with the decision of Elros leaving to lead the Edain to Elenna recently spread, in a quiet corner of Lindon along the riff overlooking the Great Sea and with hardly any visitors, Gil-Galad would be lost in his thoughts. He would be concerned about the political consequences the departure of Elros would have, how the relationship with Men might evolve from that moment, and also the emotional toll of parting from Elros, as he grew accustomed to the presence of both Peredhel twins since their youngest years.

Gil-Galad's eyes would be set on the distance over the sea, and his hands clasped strongly. Séredhiel would happen to get into that same place, which happens to be one of her favourite spots to find quietness and reminisce, most of times her thoughts going back to her brother, who fell in the War of Wrath.

She would realize too late that Gil-Galad is also there, he would have already noticed her presence and will ask her to step forward, and they would start to talk, inquiring about what brought them there.

As they speak, Séredhiel will notice his eyes being clouded by worry, his clasped hands… and she will place her hand on top of his and offer him a listening ear.

He will be surprised at first, but a part of him will feel like he can release the grip with her...and will take her hand in his, and will confide in her. He will find out that sharing the thoughts troubling his heart with her was easier than he could ever do with anyone else before.

And talking, they will discover that they both reached that same spot to let their thoughts wander about the same issue: Séredhiel will also be troubled by the news of Elros leaving, and having to say goodbye to him would be like separating from a member of her family. Since the beginning of the War of Wrath, on the Isle of Balar, Séredhiel took care of the Peredhel twins, taking them under her wing and becoming a nurturing figure for both (as I imagine Gil-Galad would be, too), and their bond would reach depths no different than those of a blood one. Both Gil-Galad and Séredhiel had experienced the pain of being separated from their families, so the news concerning Elros' departure hit hard both of them, at the same time leaving them unable to talk about it to anyone. But in this moment, they would feel like they could share their thoughts and burdens safely with each other, Gil-Galad starting to realise how around Séredhiel he can drop the walls he build around himself from the duties of being the High-King, while her, being the one who often listens but seldom speaks about what troubles her, finding someone who would listen and understand her feelings.

that was so kind of him to do, god knows Prokofiev needed it

Dmitri Shostakovich at Sergei Prokofiev's funeral, 1953.

For context, Prokofiev and Stalin died on the same day- March 5, 1953. Because Stalin's funeral was such a major event in the Soviet Union, Prokofiev's was largely overlooked, despite the fact he was one of the leading Soviet composers of his day. Relatively few people attended his funeral, Shostakovich among them.

Shostakovich and Prokofiev were not particularly close, and had a thorny professional relationship- much of the correspondence between them that I've been able to find appears to be formal criticism of each other's works. As Prokofiev was from an older generation- he was born in 1891, while Shostakovich was born in 1906- they did not always see eye-to-eye musically; Shostakovich experimented with the avant-garde when possible, perhaps in part due to his musical maturation during the socially-liberal NEP era, while Prokofiev's style tended to be more conservative and neoclassical- picking up more influence from Imperial-age composers and fellow emigres to the west (he lived in France and the United States before returning to the Soviet Union in 1936). Their generational difference also partially accounted for how they responded to harsh government criticism- Shostakovich was impacted by the consequences of his 1936 denunciation all his life and, while he suffered greatly during his second denunciation in 1948, was able to develop public and private personas, in both the musical and ideological spheres, to preserve himself and his artistry. However devastating as it was for Shostakovich, the 1948 denunciations took a greater toll on many other composers, Prokofiev included. As Prokofiev did not believe he would be harshly denounced as Shostakovich had been in 1936, he was far less prepared for the censorship and attacks he faced in 1948. As a result of the denunciations, combined with his declining health, his artistic productivity decreased, and he largely regulated himself to writing basic ideological works towards the end of his life.

This is a letter Shostakovich wrote to Prokofiev on the subject of his Seventh (and last) Symphony:

There's speculation as to whether or not Shostakovich was actually impressed by Prokofiev's Seventh Symphony. As Prokofiev was in decline at the time of writing it, the symphony has been criticized for being banal and not being particularly innovative; Rostropovich even claimed that Prokofiev added in its final flourish not for artistic purposes, but to have the piece nominated for a Stalin Prize, which would have meant money and a boost to his reputation after it suffered in 1948. (The Stalin Prize has its own complicated history in its role in Soviet music, and although it was the highest award a Soviet composer could earn, it could sometimes be awarded as a sort of backhanded punishment- an encouragement for composers to write the "right" sort of music, especially after they had been criticized for "formalism." Nonetheless, winning it after suffering a denunciation could mean financial and political security.) Did Shostakovich- who had often traded criticisms with Prokofiev over music- actually like this piece, or was this an effort to encourage a fellow artist to keep composing after suffering mental and physical ailments? This was a private letter and not a public statement, and Shostakovich was typically very straightforward about critiques, so if the entirely positive sentiment for the piece wasn't genuine (the only critique here is that Shostakovich says he wishes the entire symphony was encored!), the letter may have come from a place of concern.

Perhaps the most striking thing about this letter is the line, "I wish you another hundred years to live and create. Listening to such works as your Seventh Symphony makes it much easier and more joyful to live." Maybe by telling Prokofiev that he wished him another hundred years to live and create, Shostakovich was not simply praising the symphony, but encouraging Prokofiev- a composer whom he was often on icy terms with- that he needed to keep living and creating, during a time when it was becoming more and more difficult for him to do so.

aww

Murder brothers and little stars

Work in Progress ✍️🏻

Almost done with Alurna's wardrobe from TROP season 2 ♡

If you want to see more content about Elmyr/Alruna: click here

Hopefully, I will post her season 2 ref sheet next week ♡

Do not copy, retrace or use my art without my consent !

The Pain of Parting (Gil-galad x F! Reader) One Shot

Summary: You grapple with the impending departure of your beloved husband, Gil-galad, who is preparing for battle against Sauron. As you try to immerse yourself in the affairs of the realm, the clashing of swords outside serves as a painful reminder of the danger he faces.

Notes: No warnings. This quote from the Silmarillion comes into play: "For the Elves die not till the world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief." - The Silmarillion

You sat in the study, surrounded by scrolls and maps, attempting to immerse yourself in the affairs of the realm. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the parchment, but your thoughts drifted elsewhere. Outside, the rhythmic clanking of metal swords echoed through the halls, the sound sharp and clear against the stillness of the evening.

You paused, your quill hovering above the ink-stained parchment, as the distinct clash of blades rang out once more. Gil-galad was training with his soldiers, preparing for the impending battle in Eregion. Each strike sent a pang of dread through your heart, a painful reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

Determined to focus, you turned your attention back to the scrolls, but the words blurred together. The impending departure loomed over you like a dark cloud, each clash of metal increasing your anxiety. You bit your lip, willing yourself to remain composed, but the tension in your chest tightened with every sound.

Desperate to distract yourself, you tried forcing your gaze to the scrolls laid out before you. Yet, the words eluded you; they swam in a sea of worry and despair. You pressed your palms to your temples, closing your eyes tight, willing the tears to stay at bay.

But then, a particularly loud clash broke through your resolve, and you could no longer hold back. The tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You felt helpless and terrified, knowing that soon he would leave, and all you could do was watch.

After a final, agonizing clash rang out, you stood and your way to your chamber, seeking solace from the turmoil outside.

The familiar warmth of the room enveloped you as you stepped inside, but it did little to quell the storm within. You moved to the small table by the window, where sunlight still lingered, and sank into a chair. The soft glow did nothing to dispel the shadows creeping into your heart.

With a deep breath, you tried to focus on the beauty of your shared space—the intricately woven tapestries, the fragrant flowers in a vase, and the small tokens of your shared love scattered throughout. But each item only served as a reminder of what you stood to lose.

As silence settled around you, the weight of your emotions became unbearable. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly. The thought of Gil-galad departing for battle gnawed at you, filling you with despair.

After some time, you heard the door open softly. Gil-galad stepped inside, weary but radiant, his presence instantly filling the room with warmth. He paused at the sight of you, his heart sinking at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Beloved," he said gently, crossing the room in swift strides. He knelt beside you, concern etched across his features. “What troubles you, my queen?”

You looked up, your eyes shimmering with tears. “I thought I could bear it, but the training… every clash reminds me of your departure. I can’t help but feel that I’m losing you, and it terrifies me.”

Gil-galad’s heart ached at your words. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “You are not losing me. I will fight to return to you. You are my heart, and no darkness can take that away.”

“But what if it does?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “What if you do not come back to me?”

He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if to shield you from the fears that haunted you both. “I will come back,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I promise you that. I will fight for our future, for our love.”

“But what if you don’t come back?” You whispered, your voice breaking. “What if I’m left here, alone?"

He held your gaze, his expression steady and resolute. “If that were to happen, I know you would lead our people. You would be a beacon of light for the Noldor in dark times.”

Your expression became serious. “No. I will waste from grief if you do not return. I cannot bear the thought of your absence.”

“You cannot allow that to happen,” he urged, his grip tightening around your hands. “You must stay strong for our people, for the hope we have fought to protect.”

Tears spilled forth from your eyes. “It’s unfair of you to ask me to stay without you. If you leave me behind for the Halls of Mandos, I will swiftly follow, carried by my grief. I cannot promise to live in a world without you.”

Gil-galad’s heart ached at your words. "I cannot let you think that way. You are my light, and I need you to shine, even when I am not here to see it.”

As he held you, you leaned into him, drawing strength from his warmth. “Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. That you’ll remember this moment, our love, when you face the darkness.”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice filled with emotion. “I will fight my way back to you, no matter the cost.”

“I will carry you with me, always,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “You are my guiding star. No matter where I go, I will always find my way back to you.”

He kissed your forehead gently, then stood to prepare for a bath after his training. As he moved toward the bathing area, you watched him, your heart swelling with love and fear. The sight of him, strong and noble, only deepened your resolve to support him, even as your heart ached at the thought of his departure.

After a moment, you stood and joined him, wanting to be near him, to cherish the time you had left. As he filled the basin with warm water, you reached for a cloth, helping him wash away the sweat and weariness of battle preparation.

As you continued to wash him, the intimacy of the moment enveloped you both. Yet, the reality of the situation loomed like a shadow, reminding you both of the uncertainty that lay ahead. Your heart was heavy, but you focused on the present, on the way his skin felt beneath your fingers and the warmth of your shared love.

“Promise me we’ll make memories tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a hint of vulnerability in your gaze. “Let us fill this night with… everything that makes our love sacred.”

Gil-galad searched your eyes, sensing the unspoken desire behind your words. “Yes,” he replied, his heart quickening. “Let us make this night one to remember.”

“Fëanor wedded Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge. In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions in many journeys.”

cr: @ylieke​ or @cgbookworm on twt

i still wonder how the guard could miss like that

CHARLIE VICKERS as ANNATAR/SAURON

The Rings of Power, 'Doomed to Die' (2022 - )

Curufin: Orodreth has exiled me and your uncle, join me son

Celebrimbor:

Context