acornsandoaktrees

[acornsandoaktrees]

[acornsandoaktrees]

Welcome!

Suilad, Mae Govannen!

I am an artist, writer, and reader who deeply loves the works of Tolkien! If you too are an enjoyer of The Lord of the Rings, then this is the place for you! My blog is home to my artworks and writings (mainly fanfiction for The Lord of the Rings), aesthetics, and posts about Middle-Earth, along with other bits and pieces. Essentially, this is my scrapbook that I’ll fill with things that make me happy.

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About Me:

Christian, female

ENFP

English / Literature nerd

Aspiring author

Mirkwood fanatic

Favorites:

Frodo Baggins

Cosmo Sheldrake, Lord Huron, The Oh Hellos, Poor Man's Poison

Van Gogh

Minecraft

Studio Ghibli

Links:

Non-LOTR art sideblog: @mels-misc-art

Fanfiction Platform: https://www.quotev.com/Meluiloth

Art Fight: https://artfight.net/~Meluiloth

Toyhouse: https://toyhou.se/Meluiloth

Unvale: https://unvale.io/Meluiloth

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“If ever you are passing my way, don't wait to knock! Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time." -Bilbo Baggins, The Hobbit

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In my mind Legolas is a smart little nuisance.

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Warner Bros isn't trying to promote this movie anymore, apparently, so I guess I'll have to do it. They just dropped this incredible song less than a day ago and I am feral. I will not apologize for the person I will become after December 13th. This looks incredible.

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Defending the castle like a man...

I've just read this article : Defending the castle like a man: on belligerent medieval ladies.

One of my friend is practicing HEMA (historical european martial art) as well as forging. We speak often about it and I have many question, mostly because of my main character in my medieval romance. As in forging, strength is not all in fighting. Know how to do it and practicing is first and foremost (she is smaller and thinner than me. she can wield swords that I cannot lift).

She reads lots of things about medieval warfare and we have discussion about it, and more recently because of my main character in my medieval romance. She had send me this article. And while reading it, I thought about some of my mutuals and the quite recent discussion about Eowyn and Théoden. So this is for you : @torchwood-99 , @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras , @konartiste. @errruvande I thought about you as there is a good reference about Alfred's daughter.

Reading this, I thought about Théoden. Rohan seems to have a certain history of female fighters. Shieldmaiden is not a name coming out of nowhere. So... what led Rohan to, seemingly, forget about this role? When did it happen?

In this article, there are a lot of example of women who did fight in war and defend their territory. It seems there are more and more proof of that. Even more, it seems women were actually expected to know at least how to defend their castle and lands. "Do as their husband do". So they had to know how to fight or at least strategies and siege... And some knew how to use bows, crossbows and even swords. Still, they had been, most of the time, erased or played down.

It is not said if this erasing was all along or more recent, as it is noted that those women of war were common up until the 14th centuries. In any case, they existed, but in later ages, it was inconvenient for men to have their female kin show "men's virtue".

Did something equivalent happened in Rohan? Why would something like this would happen? I would be the first to say "Oh it's all Saruman/Grima's fault". But no. Theoden do not think of sending Eowyn to war. He does not even have the reflex to think about her as a leader for his people. if it had been Grima and/or Saruman, he would have think about it.

Could it be his gondorian upbringing? After all he grew up in Gondor, had a gondorian mother? Thengel did not seem to held his countries culture in high regard. So, could it be this? Or even before that?

In my glèomenn fanfic, Tirwald said it was legends and old story. Could it be even older? Something more recent, linked to another culture?

So... What do you think?

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[acornsandoaktrees]

Humor (Tolkien, Misc.) - Fishing4Stars Masterlist

Silmarillion

Mandy's Diner at the End of the World - In the halls of Mandos, a mysterious diner appears to certain spirits, in which a kind, strange waitress serves them food - and helps them as they consider taking the "Exit" door that she says leads to a new life. (2.2k, complete, rated T) Link: Ao3, Tumblr

A Tail of Woe - A comedic modern AU featuring Glorfindel x Erestor, and their many pets. (3.4k, complete, rated T) Link: Ao3, Tumblr

The Hobbit

Shipping Up to Boston – Gen. Pure silliness featuring the company of Thorin Oakenshield, a Boston-appropriate amount of foul language & a gender-neutral reader. (2.5k, complete, rated T). Link: Ao3, Tumblr

Elf, Scientist - Gen. Legolas and Tauriel are tasked with escorting and guarding an Elven lore master deep into Mirkwood to observe the creatures that threaten their kingdom. (1.2k, complete, rated T) Link: Ao3.

Just Beachy Gen. Legolas and Tauriel go to the beach they've heard mortals hang out at to try to make new friends. Their attempt at wearing culturally appropriate swimwear is less than perfect. (1.3k, complete, rated T) Link: Ao3

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I really like Tauriel

If Tauriel has no fans, i am dead

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Tauriel

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Spring and Autumn- The Hobbit movies

A.N. Having re-watched The Hobbit movies for the first time since they came out (it's been 10 years! I'm getting old), I was really struck by the relationship between Legolas and his father, and the deep wounds they both carry, as well as how Tauriel helps them both "heal" in a way

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Great are the trees that shield his eyes from the bright sun and the open skies. For centuries, no, ages they had time to grow, time to breath, time to build a realm like no other, fair and dark at the same time. Loved and feared. Eryn Galen, the Greenwood, was the name under which it was first known. Long had the Wood-elves, as well as some Wildmen, dwelled here, yet as a kingdom it only came to prosper once their distant kin, long ago forced to flee from Doriath, came to settle here in this green jewel. Different from his father, Legolas knows no other home.  Born at the turning point of the ages, he knows no war, knows no hunger, knows no exile. True, even his beloved home, protected as it is, is not without dangers, not free of fell creatures hiding in the dark, but fiery demons, valiant warriors or dark sorcerers are tales of times long gone. The Great Darkness is nothing but a story Elf-children might be told in the light of a warm blazing hearth.

It is true, truly great are the trees and the woods that shield this realm from conflict or danger, and yet at times Legolas finds them cold and empty. He had felt so since he was a little child, too small to even climb past one of the great roots of a mighty tree, but as no one but himself ever expressed any sentiment of similar sort, he soon decided that he was alone and wrong for feeling that way. After all, his father was Thranduil, son of Oropher of Doriath, king of the Wood Realm, who fought against the Enemy and faced fire-breathing worms. There is peace and prosperity in his Realm, so this must mean that things are exactly as they should be. 

During his early childhood he rarely sees his father, a nurse is at first the only substitute for a parent, later tutors take over. Friends he has few, but one very true. Her father was one of the patrol guards that are send out to protect the borders, he had spend many years in loyal service, before loosing one rainy night his life to the fight with a warg. Since they are children she knows she wants to follow her fathers footsteps and become a member of the guard. Tauriel is her name, and Legolas cannot imagine the forests without her presence. Her hair is auburn red like to most of her kin and mirrors the flame she has in her. A many mischief they got themselves in when still very young, the halls were filled with laughter in her presence, the days with sunlight. It is warmer then the cold in his fathers eyes.

He wants to make his father proud, earn his approval. Dutifully he studies his letters and verses, stars and lore, combat and archery. It takes years before he feel at least perceived, his presence acknowledged. And still, Legolas tells himself it has to be like this. How else could it be?

Often he finds his friend perched up on the last branch of the tallest trees, head peaking out between the fresh green or passing yellow. Even on cold winter days one could find her here.

“What do you seek to find up here, melon?” He asks once after taking place on a neighbouring branch, the fresh young leaves matching their guard uniforms.

“Seek? I do not know if I seek anything. And yet…” Tauriel says while her eyes wander over the crown of endless green, birds and moths dancing above their heads.

“Sometimes you seem like a bird, always reaching upwards to the skies. But there is nothing to find there. They are empty, except for some occasional cloud here and there.”

“Empty, you say? Be glad that the master of lore isn’t nearby, or he might tell you many a fair word! Why, right there you can see Arien doing her duty, and Tilion will follow in a few hours time. Who do you think lighted the stars, or who protects the very birds?” She laughs while stretching her head further up towards the warmth of the light.

“So you strive a place among the Great Powers.” He can’t help but say, his smile just as wide as hers.

“Don't be silly, of course not. But there is a whole world out there. Might it not be filled with great beauty?”

“Or with grave dangers. But fear not, I would never laugh at you, even though my sight might not always see what your eyes perceive.” He says, and they sit for a while in silence. Her look had become distant again, so he doesn’t push the conversation further.

Sometimes, he too wonders what might be out there, and yet there are enough tales and accounts to form a rather clear picture. Men and Skin-changers on the western and southern borders, Men and Dwarves on the eastern ones. Orcs and wargs. A sleeping dragon. In the north there is nothing. It was in the north that he lost his mother. Not a whisper, not a word is ever spoken of her, no token of her exists, and very soon not even memory may remain of her. At times only he thinks he might perceive her in his dreams, silver dress flying in the wind, bow and arrow in her hands, the golden sun upon her hair. Eyes fierce and warm. 

For many years his life seems sure, seems set. What use is it to ask questions to whom you know no answers will ever come? It is unwise to seek trouble or peril beyond the borders when so much foul things already try to enter from without. One is to protect what one knows. Yet the winds may ever change, and if we are not to break under them we must follow their guidance. A storm arrived, bringing an unexpected company. Clouds gathered, fire rained down from the heavens. His heart had been broken, but it had also been opened. The time had come to leave the shelter of dark trees, and find the sun once more.

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Great are the trees that protect his eyes from the bright sun and the open skies. For centuries, yes, ages they had time to grow, time to breath, time to build a realm like no other, fair and dark at the same time. Loved and feared. Eryn Galen, the Greenwood, desolate and wild it had been before they arrived, and under their guidance prospered, building a home for themselves as well as for their distant kin that had long lived scattered in these parts. Yet, different from his son, Thranduil knows another home. Born with the coming of the sun, he knows darkness, knows war, knows hunger, knows exile. The lands of his childhood no longer exist, taken by fire and flame, buried under the seas. Homeless his people were for a long time. A proud peoples, wandering the wastes, hopping to find someplace that the Great Darkness hadn’t marred. Tales of horror and despair are all that was left of their previous lives.

It is true, young and green those woods seemed when first the Sindar set foot in them. A future full of promises. A future that yet again became marred by flame. A new enemy of old had awakened, and gathering all his foul servants, threatened their lives once more. His father had set out with a force great in might, ready to challenge the Enemy while great armies were closing in on him. A great host, of which only one third returned to the green home. Their king lost.

Thranduil is among the survivors, but greatly injured. A great worm of fire had send its foul breath of flame in his direction, burning the left side of his face, leaving destruction, leaving pain. And when he is carried home, to the place to heal all hurts, what awaits him there is a horror that makes even the glad victory and heavy loses pale in comparisment. Eliril had been taken, Eliril had been taken and lost. Eliril, a great huntress, had taken their little son and her maids for a ride in the forests while the battle was raging far away in the south. A group of Orcs ambushed them, of which she slew many with her arrows before finally being overpowered and taken hostage. The Lord of Angmar had demanded to learn the location of the hidden Woodland Realm, but she had not faltered and so paid for it with her life. The only thing that was ever returned of her was one of her arrows upon which hung a strung of her hair.

For nearly five full moons Thranduil stays in his chambers, admitting no one, seeing no one. A deep winter comes over the lands. After that he orders all of her things to be burned, not a scroll, not a hairpin nor tapestry she may have touched is to remain. Her day-room is emptied and turned into an open terrace, her harp broken, quill thrown into the mantelpiece. Any reminder of the wound is to disappear like the burns on his face, leaving an image untouched. And yet, one reminder was always there and hurt most to look upon. Their son, Legolas. In looks there was much of his father in him, and yet, even as a child, the temper of his mother came through, fierce, and strong, and unyielding. Thranduil hopes that time and distance will erase that too. Tutors and maids are tasked with the education and care for the young prince, not more then a bebe when the warmth had been lost. 

And time passes and Legolas grows, grows into a Elf of noble bearing, sharp mind, and loyal heart. But the temper remains, untameable, and soon the King realises the heart of his son is set on one from the guards. Of Silvan background is she, talented and loyal, a flame in her that demands caution. It would not be proper if she were bound to a prince. The world is best left to the order it has established, no thing to be tempered with uncalled for, no step made of the right road.

For many years the road seems sure, seems set. If one were to stray from the path, what good would it do? So much pain, so much loss await those who wander onward to the unknown. To keep and preserve what is left, that is the best coarse of action. What could the world beyond offer him anyway? But dark clouds begin to gather around Dol Guldur, around Erebor, around his own realm. There are those who are no longer willing to accept the boundaries set by him, and he is forced to follow on their path. It is all there again, the darkness, the flames, the blood spilled. But what cuts deepest are the words spoken by the one he looked down on, and of the son that stays true to her. And among the ruins of old, while snow and cold winds are raging, tears wash away the dark, wash away the wounds, until all that is left are scars. And among the ruins he speaks to the son he is proud has come to his own, and bestowing his blessings sends him away on the ever winding road. And among the ruins he bows to the warrior who lost all that was dear to her, and yet taught him to value what is most precious.

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Two Silvan Elves, sitting in a tree~

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i feel the hobbit itch... gonna need to rewatch when i'm less busy, and see where that takes us 👀

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I'm SO excited to receive the artwork print I purchased from @g-m-kaye's Etsy store!!! She paints gorgeous Tolkien artwork, mostly for The Silmarillion, but here is a rare painting of Mirkwood, with two Mirkwood elves/princes riding through the forest!

@g-m-kaye is so enormously talented and very sweet, and I'm so honored to have her as a friend! Highly recommend checking out her shop; if you find any art on her blog that you want to have as a print, she might even be able to accommodate your request (like she did mine, LOL!). She even included an extra art print (Finrod and Beren!), and I'll treasure her personal note as well!

Having artist friends is just the COOLEST EVER. AHHH. MORE PLEASE!

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More Nyannatar sketches (The eye and/or crown are obviously not visible to anyone they're just fun to draw)

Celebrimbor: "Aww he's so cute!" Literally Everyone Else: "I'm scared to sleep near him."

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it will never stop making me happy to see how GENUINELY JOYFUL and excited gandalf looks when he's making fireworks for the hobbits !!!

like this is the face of a wizard who's doing EXACTLY what he loves to do in life T-T

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Last one(?) of my super late Inktobers! Lúthien dancing among hemlocks....which is quitte strange looking and poisonious plant. Hemlock's czech name is "Bolehlav" which means "Headache". This adds really weird vibe to Aragorn's poem :D