#@ nelyo :D

[daily-smol-silm]

Day #71 - SMALLEST SMOL.

FINNO NO WHAT HAPPENED?? WHO SHRUNK YOU???

Mae for scale:

[nelyoslegalteam]

please tell me about your dnd campaign, stranger

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi do you have any idea how happy i am to get this ask. you have activated my trap card this is going to be SO long i am sorry in advance but The People Need To Know About My D&D Campaign.

so we’re playing in Adventures in Middle Earth, which is. supposedly a Tolkienverse-specific 5e mod but frankly it’s robust enough to fully count as its own system if you ask me. like it has its own guidebooks, character sheets, premade adventures, and features mechanics that 5e just straight up doesn’t have. it’s like if 5e were actually good. anyway. may i present to you:

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ The Mirkwood Campaign ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

so what, exactly, happened in the intervening years between the events of the Hobbit and LOTR? we did, BAYBEEEEEE!!

we are:

Murdoc, a hobbitish warden (adventures in middle earth’s version of a bard), played by yours truly!! raised in the shire and eventually moved out to the middle of mirkwood by an eccentric uncle who idolizes bilbo baggins, murdoc is the heir apparent to the brandybuck family inn. unfortunately for murdoc, he has developed extremely nasty prophetic dreams and is now burdened with the ability to see the future! a skill that has definitely left him with a very normal relationship to his new day job of Being An Adventurer!! i am unhinged and have uh. Talked About Him A LOT If You Care To Read This, but he is full of murderous rage and also tea and loves his friends very much. he also, more recently, surrendered himself as bait to the great werewolf plaguing mirkwood, trusting completely that his friends would come and save him. he was right. they did. and he lost his right hand in the process. :)

Ríros, an elven warrior (aime version of a fighter), played by @jaz-the-bard. tall, buff, sunshiny, and an absolute himbo. ALSO loves his friends VERY much and this is KEY. unfortunately for ríros, he is a redhead, and that does cause problems in a world where maedhros feänorion once existed. (stranger, i am so sorry if you are not one of my silmarillion regulars and did not know what you were getting into by asking me, a silmarillion blog, to tell you about my d&d campaign, and now have no idea who or what the fuck i am talking about). ríros is notably not maedhros though! he isn't even noldorin!! maedhros is a ghost who lives in his sword (and who is also played by jaz)! and who also maybe kind of accidentally possessed him one time, if you wanna read this here for a better explanation of ríros mostly but also all of the above.

The Bearer, a human slayer (aime barbarian), played by @thymo-leonta. grumpy old man. unwilling father to all these young and stupid adventurers he’s been stuck with. are they all adults? yeah sure. they’re still Children. we are making him go grey. also full of murderous rage. looks like he's running from his perfectly normal, happy, loving family. is actually acutely aware of the fact that he has been doomed to die. killed the werewolf that took murdoc's hand. as a consequence, became the werewolf that took murdoc's hand. has two dogs, both named Dog <3

Déorwyn, a human wanderer (aime ranger), played by @shadowkat2000. resident party Horse Girl. a fellow sufferer of The Bad Prophetic Dreams^TM. because this is not quite unfortunate enough for her, déorwyn Hears Dead People. apparently our GM gives her extra secret bonus ghosts that the rest of us do not hear or know about! this being the source of her foresight makes her pretty distinct from murdoc, despite them both seemingly suffering from the same thing, in ways that i have LOTS of emotions about. her horse is named windrider and Their Bond Is Unbreakable uwu

and @potatoobsessed999, our obligatorily Extremely Ominous GM!

(we are also occasionally joined by Ioreth, a human treasure hunter (aime rogue), whose player is unfortunately not on tumblr. a founding member of the party, has earned the epithet The Feral, mostly loves to hang out in the woods by herself, look for shiny things, and cause chaos. as a beorning, she CAN astral-project herself as a bear. it rules. once got possessed by a ringwraith, probably holds the most compassion for characters who have been through similar out of any of us. is usually covered in mud.)

initially in the employ of radagast the brown, a tenure that did not last due to murdoc's insistence that saruman is evil (i mean. yeah lol.), we're a group of adventurers traveling mirkwood with the aim to defend it as sauron slowly gathers power. we are

very

successful at the Fighting And Killing Things part of this

we specialize in:

lugging unconscious bodies through the woods!

lugging DEAD bodies through the woods!

lugging EACH OTHER'S bodies through the woods!

lugging things through the woods in general!

setting things on fire (usually murdoc's fault)!

making fun of our enemies so bad they just give up!

INCLUDING the ringwraiths (shoutout to ríros)!

serving annoying politicians subpoenas!

murdering them like the one time it was totally justified we promise!

accidentally convincing the council of mirkwood that murdoc's inn is a small fiefdom!

being generally cursed (except for ríros) (he just looks that way)!

HIRE US to take care of whatever problems are happening in YOUR local cursed forest! wights? patricidal politicians? generally awful politicians? sauron? the same fucking werewolf again? it's definitely just tuesday to us!

you can count on

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ the union of murdoc ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

anyhow, jaz is absolutely wonderful and has written several fics of our party, including (but not limited to):

Cooking Contest for the Free Peoples, based on an in-game conversation about beating sauron at competitive cooking,

In Which There Are More Ghosts, which is not canon to game but is in fact Extremely Representative of the exact kind of nonsense we get up to (campaign's haunted),

A Stranger With a Friend's Face, a canon to game horror story of how ríros got slightly possessed, the party acquired maedhros, and neither murdoc nor déorwyn managed to explain the presence of the vengeful ghost residing in murdoc's scepter and bullying him in his dreams to any of the rest of the party right up until this very moment,

and this wonderful drabble from the horror arc in which we were isolated inside of a haunted longhouse. complete with party memes here.

there's more, and i am going to a.) pick on jaz to add them if they can find them, and b.) pick on my beloved friends in general to Please Help Me Infodump About our Game!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Top to Bottom, Left to Right: Murdoc, the Bearer, Déorwyn, Ríros, Ioreth]

[sesamenom]

explanation of names i used for my version for those interested:

Anardil - (Q.) alternate name of Aldarion; early TA king of Gondor and son of Earendil of Gondor

Arminas - (S.) Noldo of Dorthonion, later sent as a messenger to Nargothrond

Aromez - (Valarin) Valarin name of Orome

Axantur - (Q.) son of Nolondil, great-grandson of Elros

Azaghal - (Khuzdul) Lord of Belegost who stabbed Glaurung and got a mid-battle funeral

Azrubel - (Adunaic) Adunaic name of Earendil

Bodruith - (Gnomish) BoLT Lord of Belegost who tried to steal the Nauglamir

Colpegn - (OE) Old English name of Caranthir

Cynegrim - (OE) Old English name of Celegorm

Enedrion - (Noldorin) early name of Edrahil

Erellont - (S.) mariner companion of Earendil

Ferumbras - (English, from French) first name of three Tooks, derived from Ferumbras (Fierabras, from fier à bras) of the legends of Roland

Incanus - (Q., Easterling) alternate name of Gandalf

Indilzar - (Adunaic) early Adunaic name of Elros, later changed to Gimilzor

Kuvion - (Q.) BoLT elf hiding on the Moon and caring for the rose of Telperion, sometimes called the Man in the Moon

Lenwe - (Q.) first leader of the Nandor

Lorindol - (S.) alternate name of Hador

Marhari - (Rohirric) mid TA Lord of the Northmen, descendant of Vidugavia and ancestor of the Rohirrim

Odovacar - (English, from Germanic) father of Fredegar Bolger, derived from Roman king Odoacer of unidentified Germanic origins

Rumil - (Q.) inventor of the Sarati; brother of Haldir and Orophin

Scatha - (Rohirric, from OE) wingless dragon of the Grey Mountains and original owner of the Horn of the Mark

Ufedhin - (Gnomish) BoLT elf who initiated the dwarven sack of Menegroth and tried to steal the Nauglamir

Vardamir - (Q.) second king of Numenor and eldest son of Elros

Veantur - (Q.) naval captain of early Numenor and grandfather of Aldarion

Vidumavi - (Rohirric) daughter of Vidugavia

Holy shit… please…take this quiz…

[sakasakiii]

not really a modern au but more like a weird future timeline thing where beach hermit maglor Hibernates™ all through the 2nd and 3rd ages & misses the last boats to Valinor.... thus resulting in him skulking about history until he ends up living among modern day humans haha?? the kicker is that he one day finds an abandoned baby thats all-too-suspiciously like a certain dead brother and becomes a single dad-younger brother-adopted guardian person...

i wrote a few pages of this back in 2022 but never really thought abt it further after i started posting less frequently hahaha.... heres just some feel good domestic sketches of this AU bc i miss drawing modern clothes 🤭 i have sooo many thoughts about it that i couldnt fit into these doodles !! its quite a lot of yapping so feel free to skip past the cut haha

assorted au thoughts:

i planned for maglor to eventually find all 6 of his brothers one by one through the power of Accidental Child Acquisition ✨ example: he'd spot a kid lurking around some woods near his home and eventually realise said wild child living amongst stray dogs is a bit too similar to celegorm

i just couldnt fit in the time to draw that this round... maybe next time!

though he's raising reincarnated-Maedhros, i think it makes more sense for him to give him a modern name and not explicitly call him Nelyo/Maitimo/Russandol just bc he'd not want to get his own hopes up or shove said identity onto the kid

(the occasional 'hey Nelyo' does slip out by accident from time to time however)

i think as Mae-the-kid grows up he will in time start to remember bits and pieces of his original identity? with the nicer familial things (like valinor, his brothers, feanor and nerdanel) first, and then the darker things (kinslayings, angband, war) once he's grown up that Maglor will struggle explaining or even helping him through

i promise this is a wholesome au 😭

side characters include a high-strung but good guy policeman named Officer Borden who's very suspicious of Maglor bc of all the random kids he keeps adopting.... and his younger brother Farren, who happens to be Maglor's scholarly coworker

as well as Maglor's next door neighbour Morgan, a witch-woman married to some guy named Hugh... she's got 3 kids who visit from time to time but from what Maglor's heard, the oldest son is followed by misfortune and has supposedly never met his youngest sister...?

credit to Ted Nasmith and Cartoon Network for some assets used in the doodles :D

[antlered-vixen]

I'm curious about your opinion on Nolofinwe's nicknames, Nolvo

Ah, I was wondering if someone would ask after that comment! So, first things first, we only have about 8-9 canon nicknames to reverse engineer the mechanisms, so everything is somewhat loose and subjective. That said. Let's take the textual/canonical Curvo, from Curufinwë . Where does the "v" here come from? In my opinion, because "r" by itself, like "l" by itself, are a little abrupt/insufficient in Tolkien's phonetic tastes (both "l" and "r" are liquid consonants, he seems to not want to permit them to stand alone in nicknames) and Quenya phonetics like to soften transitions, it borrows the v from Curufinwë, with a mutation from bilabial to labiodental. (Consonant mutations are VERY common in elven tongues. In fact, pretty much all of Sindarin is shaped around consonant mutations and specifically soft mutations, so we know Tolkien was really into that.) Similarly then for Telufinwë, which canonically/textually we know to give Telvo. Nelyafinwë doesn't need anything extra, it's just Nelyo - the "y" already smooths the phonetics. And the "n" is Cáno for Canafinwë is apparently already smooth enough. Now if we transfer this rule to, let's say, Ñolofinwë, like the similar Telufinwë>Telvo, we expect Ñolvo. However, Turucano would give Turno. The liquid consonant ("r") will not be permitted to stand alone, but the "n" doesn't need mutation, we already established with Cáno from Canafinwë that "n" is not mutable. By these same rules, Arafinwë gives Arvo, Aracáno gives Arno. However, what do we do when a sound is abrupt/unsoftened but we have nowhere to borrow from? Like, Idril's Quenya name, Itarillë? In my opinion, you add "y". We have already seen the addition of "y" in childish or affectionate Quenya speech to soften sounds, so we have precedent. Therefore, I'd wager Ityë! Fëanáro most of the "fandom" seems to agree gives Náro, and I have obeyed that before because, you know, dominant fanon - that said, if a standalone liquid "r" was alright, we wouldn't have Curvo. So, what do we do here? Again, when there's no end-consonant to pull from, I'd soften with "y". I reckon Fëanáro should give Náryo. And what about voiced stops, like "g" and "d"? They exist in Quenya, but old-school/archaic/Aman Quenya seemed to soften them to voicelessness when possible (like how the archaic form was Moricotto which in exilic became Moringotto for Morgoth), and we canonically know that the Vanya even softened "f" to something like "hw", and obviously still used the thorn. So I reckon, in soft, Aman-Quenya, Ingoldo would give Inco rather than Ingo. And that's also why Findecáno "feels right" as Finno which is the fanonical version (or possibly even Finto) rather than Findo. By that rule, Angaráto would, for example, give Anco.

PS. The only one of the canonical nicknames we have that seems to disobey the trends I've gleaned above is Moryo, which should give Morvo. But Tolkien has a long history of cheating his own rules to make things "sound nicer" (see Aegthelion becoming Ecthelion), and also "Morvo" sounds morbid. Furthermore, because "y" is also possibly indicative of an adjectival suffix ("-ya" like in the three rings, Narya, Nenya, Vilya, which are "of fire/the firey", "of water/the watery" and "of air/the airy", but with the -o masculinisation), Moryo is also pretty much a nicknamized version of his canonical monicker/epithet, "The Dark", which might be why it was chosen.

[quentafeanorians]

Nelyo's lips curled in a matching hint of a smile at the returned tease, and his heart eased in its worry over his younger brother some, that concern being replaced with the warmth of fondness.

"I've lost my hand, not memory, little one. I know your picky palate well." He huffed in amusement at Erda's inquiry, stepping back to let him finish sorting out the desk and leaning against the wall by the door as he waited for him to be ready.

"I asked for a vegetable stew and fresh bread for both of us. It's late, it'll be a good meal before we sleep, warming but not too heavy." He hummed, but his thoughts already wandered to a different topic.

"Makalaurë should be returning tomorrow from the Rerir pass. I doubt there was any trouble, I've received no ill news and have not sensed him to be in any danger, but I'm sure he'd appreciate if you were around to greet him too." He spoke, starting to walk towards the dining hall once Erdafinwe was ready to leave his study.

| continued from x | @thehealingfinwe

His brother's reply was no surprise to the oldest Feanorian, even in the fact that Erdafinwe chose to answer his rather rhetorical question. Holding back a sigh, he stepped further into the room, stopping behind where his brother was sat and peering over his shoulder at the parchment the other was writing on.

"You've made a mistake here." He said, bringing his two fingers close to the parchment but hovering just above it as he pointed out the error, as not to smear the still drying ink.

"Just spelling, but if you cannot spell 'bandages' correctly I don't think you're in any shape to be taking stock of our supplies." He pointed out calmly, though much in the sharp-witted manner father would often scold them when they were young, collected but incisive in its stern honesty.

[echo-bleu]

Hi Echo! Tell us about Those Towers We Built? Love your art too, by the way! :D

Thank you so much! 💙

Oh my, those towers we built is a fave but I feel like I've talked about it on here more than I've written it xD

The original post that kicked it off is here. It's a canon divergence from the end of the First Age where the Valar decided to wipe the memories of everyone in Aman of the entire First Age, thinking they could erase the trauma and its causes. But the bulk of the story takes place in the late Third Age, both in Aman and Middle-Earth.

With Celebrían on the verge of fading, Elrond prays for a way West for her—not to the Valar, but to his father, Eärendil, whose star disappeared from the sky two ages ago. Eärendil, one of the only people in Aman to remember everything, takes Celebrían to Tirion, kicking off great and unforeseen changes for everyone.

Here's a snippet:

“I wish to swear fealty to the King of the Noldor in Aman,” Celebrían offers. Her words flow freely and smoothly, quite unlike when she had first come, and Nelyo almost doesn’t catch the odd phrasing. There aren’t Noldor anywhere but in Aman – why the addition? But he nods and she launches into her oath, with a wording, despite her slight accent, that would have belonged to the court of his grandfather. Nelyo replies in kind, the words flowing gracefully out of his mouth. He is reminded, unbidden, of his first stumbling steps in court on his own, his own oath to Finwë upon his coming of age – the first of the grandchildren, the heir of Fëanor himself, it had been a city-wide event. There are few people in the throne room now, thankfully. Celebrían chose her time well. She looks better than she did when he saw her first. She’s filled out, her skin regaining a healthy shine, and there is a timid but real smile on her face. “Gladly do I welcome you to Tirion, Celebrían Celeborniel,” Nelyo finishes, carefully enunciating the foreign names. “I am happy to see you well enough to come back.”

Ask me about my WIPs

[thelordofgifs]

Putting this in an ask because comments have a word limit :D

I LOVE the two conversations with Lúthien and Turgon at the start of part 30 of TFS. It’s clear what Maedhros is *trying* to do - make things better for two people he loves before he leaves, to assuage the guilt of leaving - but what makes it great is that Lúthien and Turgon are both trying to tell him the same thing, and he is not listening. It is not HIMSELF that is a danger, it is the Oath, and he is unable or unwilling to recognize that he can be free of it, which is why he doesn’t get what he’s looking for from either of them.

The Lúthien one really stands out because Maglor doesn’t *seem* particularly tormented by the Oath; Maedhros seems to be projecting his own preoccupations upon Maglor. To the extent that Maglor still seems concerned about the Oath, it’s mostly on Maedhros’ own behalf.

It’s just…the way he’s willing to walk straight into Sauron’s grasp rather than grapple with the realizations that are in front of him!

It’s fantastic characterization.

Thank you so much! Part 30 had a very clear structure in my mind: Maedhros talks to Lúthien about Maglor, he talks to Turgon about Fingon, he talks to Fingon, he talks to Maglor – and he does, I think, feel in some way as though he’s setting his affairs in order before he leaves. (He does not have any expectation at this stage of ever seeing Fingon or Maglor again, also.)

There was a post going around a while ago about how some stories are tragedies because “it didn’t HAVE to end this way” and some stories are tragedies because “it was always GOING to end this way”. What about, I asked myself the other day, walking home from work in the rain, a tragedy that isn’t inevitable – but its protagonist thinks it is? Because I really did want part 30 to feel like a tragedy in one act; and Maedhros, who both canonically and in tfs is almost defined by this utter inability to recognise the shape of the narrative he is caught in, was naturally the central figure of it. I do think this is one of the saddest instalments of the entire fic. It was very hard, emotionally, to write.

So, yes, Maedhros doesn’t listen. He’s too convinced that There Is Only One Way The Story Goes, and convinced also that he is the main character of it: “You do rather think everything is about you, don’t you?” says Turgon, and Maedhros’ immediate internal response, which he decides not to say aloud, is Well it is. And he’s been proven right about Sauron lurking in Dorthonion, and proven right that going public with his relationship with Fingon after centuries of secrecy is a bad idea, which only reinforces his belief that he is right about literally everything. This is… not true, to say the least.

As for the Oath: Maedhros’ current thoughts on it are, in a large part, driven by his conversation with Maglor in part 28, just before the battle.

“When it is won,” he says again, “we might try, perhaps, to rid ourselves of our shackles for good.”

Maedhros stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean, Nelyo,” Maglor says quietly. “The Oath. I do not know if we can free ourselves of it, but I know we must try.”

Maedhros gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Is that what you want?” he asks.

“More than anything,” says Maglor. “Oh, Nelyo, I am tired of being bound. Aren’t you?” He thinks of Menegroth and struggling with all his will against the Oath’s compulsion; and he thinks of Lúthien, who told him he need not regret forever.

Maedhros’ hand goes to the stump of his right wrist. He says nothing.

“I am beginning to believe it possible, at least,” says Maglor.

“All right,” Maedhros murmurs. He sounds resigned more than anything else, although in his eyes is the distant, calculating look Maglor usually associates with his brother the strategist, poring over war-maps and diplomatic correspondence.

Maglor: I want to be free of the Oath

Maedhros: clearly what he is saying is that we need to go after the other two Silmarils and although I do not yet know how to do that or particularly want to do it my precious baby brother must have anything his heart desires

(Also, incidentally, the precise thought that went through Maedhros' head when Maglor asked him if he was tired of being bound was, verbatim, Káno, I am always bound.)

So although Maglor isn't tormented by the Oath exactly, he has been spending a lot of time this arc quietly thinking about it (in fact, he's been thinking about it pretty much the entire fic). And, as Lúthien says, there is a lot that Maglor understands and Maedhros doesn't: namely, that they can be free of the Oath, and that there's a distinction between that and fulfilling it. More on this in the next arc, probably. But Maedhros has fully failed to grasp any of this, even though Lúthien basically spells it out for him when she asks him if Thingol's Silmaril is really what he wants. So instead he goes off and makes what one might reasonably call a Bad Decision.

He's so stupid. He breaks my heart.

[cilil]

10 First Lines

Thanks for the tag @swanhild! Let me see if I can find some fun ones... :D

The Sorrows of Young Maedhros: "Nelyo has a crush!"

Alliance: Finwë had been hoping for a while now to see Indis and Fëanáro interacting with one another. 

Ever upon the shores: Ever since the end of the war, ever upon the shores, Maglor wandered. 

Checking In: "Your turn, my lady." 

Ascension: The king, his father, is dead. 

A private conversation: "This won't be easy," Nerdanel warns, idly swirling her glass around.

Play, Pleasure & Passion: "You look gorgeous like this, my love." 

You have mail (delivered by the Lord of Dreams himself): "A gift?" Melkor squinted at the cute card he was holding, then glared at the bottle again. 

Moonrise: When Aredhel goes outside at night to see the moon, it's not the lost light of Telperion she seeks. 

Silver & Gold: She was the gold to her silver.

Open tag! You can say I tagged you if you want, I always love to see what everyone's been writing!🤗

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

Exciting to see what’s in the works! I’d be curious to hear a little bit about 4+1 👀

Thanks for the ask! This WIP came to be because I was in the mood for some good old fanfic tropes and I'd never written n+1 fics before. Well, this isn't finished, so I still haven't written it :D

It's going to be a (most likely) queerplatonic Russingon fic, summarized as 4 times Maedhros defended Fingon and 1 time Fingon did. Here's a snippet from it.

Gray, thin, skeletal fingers were gripping Caranthir’s shoulder with a force Fingon hadn’t believed they possessed.

Fingon didn’t know what Caranthir saw in those terrible, burning eyes, didn’t know what they demanded, but he wished Caranthir would give in, so they would close, so Maedhros would stop burning.

The silent struggle continued for long moments, but finally, Caranthir nodded. Maedhros released his shoulder and sank back on the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut. The fire was hidden behind a curtain.

“Forgive me, cousin,” Caranthir said. “I spoke harshly. What you did for Nelyo can never be repaid.”

ask game here

[dalliansss]

Hi! For the kiss prompt, Maedhros/Finrod if you're up to it? :D

maedhros/fnrod + 17 to distract

@searchingforserendipity25

To Ingoldo, Nelyo is at his most charming like this: in a worn tunic, not a care in the world, surrounded by books and scrolls, his messy crimson hair carelessly pinned up as a bun at the back of his head, held in place by an unsharpened pencil. Ink stains dotting his fingertips, his face unwashed, a mug of coffee steaming beside his right hand. True that he is aptly named Maitimo, but to Ingoldo, he is at his most beautiful like this, in his element, not a care beyond that.

...Well except perhaps he is here, lovely and radiant and golden, keeping the ink from getting dry, and he is ignored.

Beautiful tengwar flows from the end of Nelyo's quill, and Ingoldo has long stopped trying to comprehend what he is writing. The contemplative silence has brought up a pout on the younger elf's lips.

He peeks at Nelyo. Still writing, those perfect silver-gray eyes riveted on the page, fast filling up with his perfect script.

The pout grows.

"Beautiful one, if you slack on grinding my ink, it will dry, and I will have lost the momentum, and we are all left bereft for it," Nelyo says, amusement lacing his voice. He still does not look up, though the hint of laughter is in his tone.

"Well, I find that grinding ink is not the job for me," Ingoldo replies, with all the petulance of youth that has yet to fully fade.

"I am sorry I cannot find a more suitable task for you," Nelyo hummed. He continues writing.

There is here a flash of mischief. Ingoldo curls low, and catches Nelyo's lips in a kiss. He makes it linger, perhaps four seconds more than necessary, and the tip of Nelyo's quill streaks forward, and the tengwar letter is destroyed. Nelyo makes an outraged noise in his throat.

Ingoldo pulls back, licking his own lips, appreciative. He continues grinding the ink, well aware of Nelyo's scowl directed at his person. He turns his head to meet the scrutiny, and he even dares wink.

[nelyoslegalteam]

Hello. You reblogged my post and now I get to ask questions about your maybe-not-dnd-anymore campaign!

This is a stupid question, and my knowledge of the greater legendarium is 1 (one) read through of The Silmarillion, but do elves just not have red hair anymore? Riros’s thing is that he looks like Maedhros, but at least in The Silmarillion, there’s a bunch of elves with red hair.

Did you invent that drama yourselves to have some fun character dynamics? Or is it like, canon, that every elf with red hair died with beleriand?

ALSKDHFHFHFJFNFNFNCFHFHFNGNGNF no at least as far as i am aware there is no canon that every elf in beleriand with red hair died?????? it is drama we invented ourselves For Fun maybe with the understanding that red is at least an uncommon enough hair color to be notable, even if it’s not unheard of, and also unfortunately the hair is NOT the only resemblance. like to be clear in terms of being Notably Tall and Having A Similar Face ríros is still very much winning in the maedhros lookalike department. he’s ALSO left-handed which like, doesn’t help, though maybe fortunately he does still have both hands.

he’s also like. not at all noldorin. he’s fucking silvan. he’s one of thranduil’s elves. like there are potentially some folks hanging around who have beef with the feanorians specifically. this REALLY doesn’t help.

but yes listen the entire thought was lmao what if there was an elf who just looked unfortunately like maedhros despite being maybe the least cursed person in the general vicinity and then it just sort of spiraled from there. blame @jaz-the-bard dhdhfhfndnd

[unstark]

I'm glad I could contribute to your misery! :D

Also, I don't usually save characters, but you are in luck because I saved this

for archival purposes! And this is one of two French covers for Charlie Bone and the Time Twister!

featuring Charlie Bone, Henry Yewbeam, and. is that bird Emma? I'm not sure

They're technically 12 in this cover, but I think they would be 30-ish in 2024 (except Henry. He ages very weirdly. Not quite sure what age he would be)

... which actually makes most of them quite a bit older than me, now that I think about it? Either way pretty weird

And that aside, I don't think I'd make an okay couple with any of them. Emma and I are too similar, Charlie and I would literally die if left alone for too long and I'm not sure I could spend more than 2h with Henry without wanting to punch him (that is, 10-yr-old me. No idea how any of them are as adults, actually...)

Divorce it is!

@queenofmistresses @nelyos-right-hand @onemoreattempt if you want to! >.<

Doing one of these but with my mutuals after seeing this image on my dash today!!

..Y'know he may be the god of war but.. I'm not mad. No, no not at all. :)

@xxgalacticambitionsxx @hatbox-apologist @ghostingyourass79 @kittieshauntedourfantasy @emerald194 @thatonerabbit @comical-icicle

[navyinks]

maedhros, elros, elrond

[tanoraqui]

So, what about Celebrimbor's Haunted House Adventure?

I’ve been sitting on this for a couple weeks because I thought the first two parts would be a prologue to a proper (silly) haunted house horror story...but honestly, I’m not gonna improve on the humor here. Also for @katekatharos​ and an anon.

.

Partial transcript of in-house call between the desk of the CEO of Fëa Technologies, Inc., and Mechanics Workroom C, where someone finally tracked down the Director of R&D, placed 12:25pm:

M: When this afternoon am I getting the rundown on the new killer robots?

C: What? Next week, when you said you needed the new killer robots by.

M: This week, I said this week. Today, Friday the 13th. 

C: Well, you’re not getting them today, because they’re not nearly done yet and I’m leaving early. It’s date night.

M: Yes, yes it is! Which is why I need the killer robots!

C: Tough. Our dinner reservations are at 6:30 and we already got Tyelpe a sitter.

M: Can you come back afterwards to manually—

C: Date night. It’s our anniversary next week. I got a welding studio and a hotel room.

M: Just for an hour—Mala can come too, obviously—

C: Because I want to have future anniversaries, I am not bringing anyone I love, including myself, within 3 miles of your and Fingon’s weird foreplay ever again.

M: …Fine. Say, the robots run on electricity, right? Who’s babysitting Tyelpe?

C: What the fuck did I just say, Nelyo?

Transcript of in-house call between the desk of the CEO of Fëa Technologies, Inc., and his secretary’s desk, placed 12:36pm:

M: Deb, get me a car at 4pm today and reschedule anything I have after that. I’ll be kidnapping my nephew from his after-school program, and when we get back, I’ll need some sort of DVD player, both Home Alone movies, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and anything else you can think of that’s instructive in that genre. Also a large pepperoni pizza—actually, one large pepperoni and one medium everything-meat—and 2 large jars of lightly irradiated peanut butter. And highly caffeinated soda, but I’ll update you on what kind from the car.

LOH Mission Report 002745, filed by Valiant; Summary Page 

Operation: Knife’s Edge

Objective: Infiltrate Fëa Tech main offices and steal back the plans for the neutron-splitting knife recently stolen from NOGROD, believed to now be in Fëa’s R&D vaults.

Agents: 

Valiant (Operative Class A, 3c-mod 5, flight/weapons skill, team leader)

Blink (OpC B, 2c-mod 2, invisibility)

Rabbit (OpC C, 3c-mod 3, hacker)

Aqualia (OpC C, 3c-mod 2, hydrokinesis)

Phantom (Contractor, 2c-mod 1, professional thief)

Foes: 

Spark (3c*-mod 3, electromechanicokinesis)

Phoenix (3c-mod 5, empathic influence (mostly just there to gloat toward the end))

Huan (3c-mod 2, giant Valarin dog (mostly there as babysitter))

way too many robots. even the roombas.

Objective Result: Mixed. 

Summary: Plans retrieved (Phoenix’s personal safe, not R&D), but Phoenix likely had copies made and backed up elsewhere. Phoenix is capable of being a Cool Uncle, but pride is still his downfall; I left him handcuffed temporarily incapacitated. 5 agents injured, 1 serious but not life-threatening (Aqualia, broken ankle). Everyone but me got dragged out before reaching objective. Spark could be a real problem if he commits to villainy, but right now he’s mostly just 9 years old.

[amethysttribble]

If you're still taking requests, maybe you could do Angst 45 for Maedhros and Fingon (Russingon optional)

Hell yeah I was, friend, here you go! Thank you so much for the prompt!

The prompt was, Angst 45 : “It’s not my fault you believe(d) everything I (say/said).” Russingon

Fingon deserves to get a little angry, as a treat. I firmly believe that Fingon 'Hair-Commander' the Valiant is incredibly fiery when angry and does not take bullshit, even if he's rarely provoked to such anger. I’m that vein, he cruses like a sailor when pissed.

Also, don't worry, he and Nelyo will make up in the morning.

The fact that Fingon had already shattered a vase by throwing it at the wall and Maedhros still hadn’t flinched should probably have been a warning sign.

A warning to who, Fingon couldn’t say.

The shattered vase was certainly a sign to Maedhros that he’d already pushed Fingon damn near too far. The overly stony, impassive look on Maedhros was absolutely an indicator that it might be time to let this go. But Fingon didn’t want to let this go, he didn’t want to give Maedhros and his fucking brothers a pass, hadn’t Fingon given them enough chances already?

Finrod was dead.

Finrod was dead- and didn’t that make Fingon’s heart scream and wail, didn’t it hurt like a motherfucker and make him want to find whatever hole Sauron was hiding down and hunt him like an injured hart, have his dogs drag the wolf lord down and then drive a spear through his chest- but more practically, what little communication there was with Doriath was gone now. Not even Galadriel would reply to Fingon’s messages.

So that was several hundred-thousand soldiers, completely gone and wasted.

Worst yet, Orodreth would barely speak to them. He certainly wouldn’t partake in anything, whether it be diplomatic, trade, or military that also concerned the feanorians. He didn’t differentiate, he wouldn’t see that just because Celegorm and Curufin- and Fingon could wring both their necks right now, could challenge them both to a duel at the same time he was so angry at present- were malicious fools, the rest weren’t worth forsaking.

Because when Fingon had tried to talk sense into his cousin’s son, all he’d got was, “What would you know about their treachery? You’re so deep in denial you’re fucking the worst of them.”

And Fingon couldn’t even deny it.

He felt like such a damn idiot right now, like a swindled and dismissed, lovelorn fool. Because he’d wanted to shout, ‘the worst of them, the worst of them? Russandol is the best, he wept after Aqualonde, he stood aside at the burning of the boats, he gave up the crown!’

But staring at Maedhros, impassable and cool, dismissive and annoyed, Fingon only heard: he still killed people (you killed people for him), the boats still burned (you had to march for thirty years), he still rules in his own right (you saved him, you saved him, you save him, for what in return?).

The words pounded in his ears alongside his heartbeat. Just to quiet it all, Fingon had to snap, “Well?” gnashing his teeth and practically panting in anger.

Maedhros still didn’t move, mouth only slightly twitching down in what Fingon presumed was an effort to find something to say. Even though he’d wanted Maedhros to speak, Fingon suddenly found that he didn’t want to hear it.

“And don’t you dare defend them to me again.”

That made Maedhros let out an audible breath through his nose, like a horse rearing in indignation.

“I don’t defend them, I just-” Maedhros finally ground out, and that was just about enough already.

“And what would you call that little spiel about your oath, then?”

“What,” Maedhros snapped, finally jerking forward, finally moving again, finally looking alive rather than like an emotionless statue, “you mean the one you interrupted by destroying my décor?”

“It was an ugly vase anyway,” Fingon spat. “About as ugly and twisted as the looks in Curufin and Celegorm’s eyes when they saw me arrive. Do they even regret it? Do they even feel anything at all for Finrod-”

“That’s not our business-”

“It damn fucking well is our business!” Fingon hollered, and after the first burst of indignation, disbelief took up all the air in his chest. He gasped belatedly, heaving for breath. How… “How can you say that? How could you believe that?”

Maedhros narrowed his eyes at him, but this time Fingon waited. He felt like he was imploring, like he was begging for respite. Like he was pleading with one of those statues of Orome and Melian the northern Sindar carried: empty wood and stone, the people they were designed to resemble blocked to all prayers.

There had been other times since Angband when Maedhros had felt unreachable, but never over something that mattered so much, that couldn’t wait, that needed to be reproached. Fingon just needed to hear Maedhros say he grieved. To know he felt anything about what his family and oath had wrought.

“You can’t condone this,” Fingon said, and he didn’t know if it was a statement or question.

However Maedhros had taken it, he seemed annoyed, rolling his eyes and leaning back imposingly.

“What would you have me do?” he gritted out, like Fingon was a child. “Have them tried in Nargothrond? They have been tried and banished. Have them tried in Doriath? Either- either executed or confined beneath the ground? Two of my principal commanders, two fine warriors in their own right, gone when we-”

“So now you want to talk about our military numbers!” Fingon yelled.

“Let’s not make the situation worse!”

“It could not be worse!” Fingon snapped, drawing closer to Maedhros and placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t you see? Nargothrond and Doriath have forsaken us-”

“Oh, and shall we not mention the other city that has abandoned us?”

“Do not bring my brother into this! We’re talking about your brothers. Nargothrond and Doriath have made their stances clear, our entire front line is still decimated! We lose soldiers and morale by the minute! And why is that? Because two of your own not only impeded and alienated the only two people to put a dent in Morgoth since my father, but they have almost single-handedly orchestrated Finrod’s death! Do you know what my people say about that? What they say about you?”

There Maedhros’s face went again, shuttering down, going over-cast, the life and light disappearing from his eyes and only a duty-driven machine in his place. He liked to pretend he didn’t care what people said. But he did, Fingon knew he did. At least… he cared what Fingon thought.

“They say that every king to associate with your line dies a gruesome death,” Fingon whispered, “and that I’m next. That by your treachery or apathy I will be the next to die for the great Feanorian ambition. That I am… that I am a fool to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

And that finally drew a grim smile onto Maedhros’s face.

“It’s not my fault you believe everything I say,” he sneered.

Fingon froze, feelings as cold as he did when he was covered in blood and sand, as when he was entrenched in a snowy chill so deep it rotted your bones, when he was chapped and stripped bare by the wind on the mountain top. He very, very carefully took three steps back from Maedhros. And then he grabbed the nearest table, and flung it across the room.

The wood and granite shattered against the slag wall into a thousand pieces, spraying everywhere and raining down on their feet. A yelp came from behind the door next to where the worst of the carnage lie, but Maedhros didn’t make a sound.

Fingon was shaking so hard he would swear he could feel the vibrations.

“I,” he huffed, trying desperately to speak around the the all-consuming rage occupying his lungs, “am going to retire for the night. You have until noon tomorrow to get your shit together and decide to be fucking helpful. I am not your emotional punching bag for whatever you’re feeling right now, and I know you’re feeling, no matter what you tell your people. But for the sake of your furniture, I’m not going to sit here and coach you through it.”

Fingon turned then. He didn’t see how Maedhros’s face changed; if it changed. Maedhros certainly didn’t make a sound.

He stalked towards the door, and called, “If Curufin or Celegorm is eavesdropping when I walk out there, he best not be. I am not in the mood for fucking around, and I could beat you with in an inch of your life right now with my bare hands.”

From the scrambling coming behind the door, they took that seriously.

Fingon gave them thirty seconds, waiting with his hand on the doorknob. But he was also giving Maedhros that time. He didn’t take advantage of it; Maedhros was so still and silent, he might not have even been in the room. But he was, and he was about to be the only one in there with the shattered remains of the things Fingon had broken.

Let him sit with that, Fingon decided as he slammed the door behind him, Let him be truly alone and then see how much he wants me.