#*|* A light on the water / Grey ships pass / Into the West *|* :: valinor

[amid-ice-and-snow]

when Halrë finds his way to Valinor after the Valar call him back from Arda. but only his grandparents, father and niece/nephews know of his arrival.

no one else finds out for he hides away in the mountains and avoids everyone who knows him. especially Turgon.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Fingolfin :: @hrivetar Unspecified Muse: Elrohir Verse: To Change the Course of Fate | AU

even before he left the Halls of Mandos, Elrohir was.. lost. he didn't regret sacrificing himself so that his mother could escape from the orcs unharmed. yet it was the grief and pain on his family's faces that remained in the forefront of his mind.

at least Lord Mandos had given him directions. to where though, the younger of Elrond's twins wasn't exactly sure. he followed the directions though, not really taking in the scenery around him. nor the people. until he was brought back into the present, after walking straight into another elf. one who seemed only vaguely familiarly to the lost looking half elf.

"Apologies. I was distracted."

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

@gxldenfinwe ::

Elladan was the first on his feet, his excitement and relief taking over the quietness that had haunted him since arriving in Valinor. despite knowing the true reason why his twin had waited, he had still missed the other desperately.

"He's not alone though. An young elfling is with him." there was a smile forming on the older twin's face as he waited somewhat impatiently by the door. like he knew something the others didn't.

centuries had passed after the the Last Ship had docked in Valinor, carrying Cirdan, Celeborn and Elladan. for reasons unknown to all but the Valar, Elladan and Cirdan, the younger of the twins had remained in Middle-Earth. time had faded the hope of Elrond and Celebrian that he would come. but all that was about to change.

Elladan, his parents and maternal grandparents were visiting his great-grandfather when a once broken bond painfully snapped back into place in his mind. "Ow- Elrohir's nearing the dock."

/@amidst-snow-and-ice | Elrohir

Arafinwë had not lost hope. But his foresight had been wrong before, or rather misinterpreted, and he kept it to himself to avoid breaking their hearts over misplaced hope.

So he was not surprised when Elladan spoke of his twin drawing closer. The king smiled.

"Then we had best go out to welcome him."

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Eärendil was a mariner

that tarried in Arvernien;

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow was fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chainéd rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands,

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters for astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light

and dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey

and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world where visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the walking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbéd star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse.

"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[fluentisonus]

Since we've finally gotten there & it's my favorite song in the book!! This is my personal favorite version of the Song of Eärendil/Eärendil Was a Mariner

Lyrics (also in today's newsletter):

that tarried in Arvernien;

Eärendil was a mariner

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow he fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chainéd rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

 

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands,

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters far astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east, and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped.

 

There flying Elwing came to him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light,

and dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey

and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

 

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

 

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

 

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

 

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder Days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbéd star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse.

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

@lordofthegoldenflower ::

  A lone tear slipped down her cheek at feeling the shakiness of his hand over hers. The former Ranger rarely ever cried but his touch made it all real. That her fears of him not wanting her there were unfounded and that the world was right again now.

  Most touches were alien to her after so long. But Glorfindel’s embrace felt like she had finally come home. She leaned into his familiar warmth, wrapping an arm around him. Tears falling silently from her eyes.

  “According to Lord Aulë, your father and Lady Galadriel make a disturbing terrifyingly effective team when it involves their family.” Hal gave him a watery yet wry smile, tightening her hold. “Neither did I. But I’m here to stay.. if you want me too..?” Her words were hesitant.

“You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know.”A familiar voice sounded behind him. One that should not have been on Valinor for the owner wasn't a Elf.

// have a random Ranger & Elf reunion in Valinor x

@rangers-are-cool

Glorfindel froze where he was splitting logs for his fireplace. He had retreated to a small cabin some friends had helped him put up in the forest when he had finally sailed to Valinor. It was nearly a copy of the one he had used back in Imladris, and perfect to retreat from all the people that seemed to always want his attention. The time he had been spending alone must be starting to get to him.

There was no possible way he should be hearing that voice here in Valinor.

“We all need some time spent by ourselves,” he said as he carefully set his axe on the ground. He took a steadying breath before turning, not daring to hope he would actually see Hal standing with him.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - February 16th

This is the day when the Fellowship leave Lothlórien and begins their journey down the River Anduin. Quite a lot fits into the day, so I’m going to track it chronologically.

First, in the morning as the Fellowship is packing up, elves of Lothlórien come and bring them lembas and elven-cloaks. Both are an example of the value and dignity of practical crafts within elven society; Galadriel personally works on making the cloaks of Lothlórien (“she and her maidens wove this stuff”), and of the nature of “elf-magic” being tied to their close relationship with the natural world (“leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lórien that we love”; and “grey with the hue of twilight under the trees they seemed to be; and yet if they were moved, or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk-silver as water under the stars”). It’s quite possible that this is the first time non-elves have been given lembas since the time of Túrin Turambar, and the second time in all Elven history.

After having breakfast, the Fellowship are preparing to leave the site where they have camped for the last month. Haldir comes to meet them as their guide (he’s come a lomg way from the borders, so it’s likely that the “guide” thing is an excuse and he’s come to say good-bye). He tells them that “The Dimrill Dale is full of vapour and clouds of smoke, and the mountains are troubled; there are noises in the deeps of the earth” - likely consequences of the battle between Gandalf and the balrog.

As they walked through Caras Galadhon the green ways were empty; but in the trees above them many voices were murmuring and singing. They temselves went silently. At last Haldir led them down the southward slopes of the hill, and they came again to the great gate hung with lamps, and to the white bridge; and so they passed out and left the city of the Elves. Then they turned away from the paved road and took a path that went off into a deep thicket of mallorn-trees, and passed on, winding through rolling woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and eastwards, towards the shores of the River.

They had gone some ten miles and noon was at hand when they came on a high green wall. Passing through an opening they came suddenly out of the trees. Before them lay a long lawn of shining grass, studded with golden elanor that glinted in the sun. The lawn ran out into a narrow tongue between bright margins: on the right and west the Silverlode flowed glittering; on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters, deep and dark...One the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the streams, there was a hythe of white stones and white wood. By it were moored many boats and barges. Some were brightly painted, and shone wuth silver and gold and green, but most were either white or grey.

New word for me: hythe. Even my 1950s OED doesn’t know it! Fortunately, Google knows everything, and tells me it is an “archaic” word meaning “a small harbour or landing-place,” which is what I expected from the context.

There are thee boats for the Fellowship, and elves provide them with rope, to Sam’s satisfaction. The Fellowship practice with the boats by rowing a ways up the Silverlode. They meet Galadriel and Celeborn in a great swan-ship:

The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck. Its beak shone like burnished gold, and its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings were half-lifted.

This matches the description of the swan-ships of the Teleri that Fëanor stole and destroyed, described in the Silmarillion: “Their ships...were made in the likeness of swans, with beaks of gold and eyes of gold and jet.” Galadriel’s mother is Telerin, and so the ship, as much as her song of lament (“What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?”), is a sign of her homesickness.

The Fwllowship, Celeborn, and Galadriel return to the green lawn at the angle of the two rivers for their parting meal. It is a fitting place: still within Lothlórien, but looking across the rivers to the mallorn-less shores beyond its southern and eastern borders. Galadriel seems changed to Frodo, and it may be not only his perception, but the result of her choice, refusing the Ring, to “diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel”:

She seemed no longer perilous or terrible, nor filled with hidden power. Already she seemed to him, as by men of later days Elves still at times are seen: present and yet remote, a living vision of that which has already been left far behind by the flowing streams of Time.

Celeborn gives the Fellowship advice on their onward journey, speaking of the Brown Lands and the Emyn Muil, of the rapids of Sarn Gebir and the falls of Rauros, of the Dead Marshes and the plains of Gorgoroth, of Rohan and the Forest of Fangorn. Since all this territory is likely familiar to Aragorn, this is likely as much for the reader’s benefit as the Fellowship’s. He warns them not to become entangled in Fangorn, “a strange land, and now little known”; with the spread of Men across the plains of Rohan, it is likely now many years since the Elves and the Ents have spoken.

Boromir, showing more warning signs, though subtler than the previous night, dismisses the stories of Fangorn as “old wives’ tales, such as we tell to our children”, and then digresses to brag/complain about his difficulties in reaching Rivendell: “A long and wearisome journey...and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that journey, and the road I have trodden with this Company, I do not much doubt that I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fongorn too, if need be.” He is clearly feeling both proud and aggrieved. Notably, Aragorn, with far broader experience and travel of Middle-earth that Boromir, says no such things.

Galadriel then gives gifts to the Fellowship. To Aragorn, a scabbard overlaid with tracery of leaves and flowers of silver and gold, with words in gemstones spelling out that it in Andúril, reforged from Narsíl, the blade of Elendil. And along with this, the Elessar, the elfstone, which Arwen gave her to give to him: “a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings.” The Elessar is, from some versions of Unfinished Tales, an enhancement to healing abilities; the fact that Galadriel gave it to Celebrian and Celebrian to Arwen suggests that Celebrian and Arwen may both have used healing abilities as well. (Arwen, as Elrond’s daughter, would be particularly likely to be trained in it. Wouldn’t it be neat if the gemstone she gives to Frodo at the end, to help him in times of sickness and ill memory, was one she made herself, a combination of jewel-craft and healing?)

And, for all the fandom focus on how many people Elrond has lost, it’s worth remembering here that Galadriel is parted from her father and mother, her brothers are long dead, and her daughter departed for Valinor terribly ill and broken-spirited after having been captured by orcs; and unlike Elrond, at this moment she does not know if she will ever be able to see them again. Elrond at least knows he will see his parents and his wife again, in time. Galadriel also knows she is going to lose her granddaughter; indeed, she had a hand it it, practically matchmaking Aragorn and Arwen on the occasion when they became engaged.

Galadriel’s gift to Sam, of the earth and the mallorn-nut, is particularly touching: she knows from his vision in the mirror that the Shire will likely not be untouched by the war, and that the loss of the trees in particular distresses Sam; and she gives him a gift that can amend it.

And Gimli, of course, asks for a strand of Galadriel’s hair, and recieves three. I could say more on the interactions between these two, but I’ll try to keep it to this: in all the language concerning Gimli and Galadriel, Galadriel’s beauty is not used simply or even mainly to mean physical appearance, but to stand in for goodness, kindness and understanding. Gimli’s answer for what he would do with the hair is “treasure it...in memory of your words to me at our first meeting,” when she understood and defended the dwarves’ love of their home and spoke their place-names in the dwarf-tongue. Similarly, when he demands Eómer “acknowledge Galadriel as the fairest of ladies” if ever he sees her, he is responding to Eómer insulting Galadriel’s character, not her looks. Beauty here means something more than beauty.

And to Frodo she gives the Phial of Galadriel, holding the light of Eärendil’s star that is the Silmaril; a parallel and inverse of the Silmaril, a gift to be given rather than a possession to be clung to; and fitting for the end of the Noldor’s presence in Middle-earth, as the Silmarils drove their arrival there.

The Fellowship at last departs from Lothlórien, and Galadriel’s song in Quenya flows down to them on the wind.

So the Company went on their long way, down the wide hurrying waters, borne ever southwards. Bare woods stalked along either bank, and they could not see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died away as the River flowed without a sound. No voice of bird broke the silence. The sun grew misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky like a high white pearl. Then it faded into the West, and dusk came early, followed by a grey and starless night.

[abeautifuldayfortea]

Visions of Aman

Summary: The death of Aragorn, the final parting of friends, the reunion of Legolas and Gimli and the passing of the Sindar colony of Ithilien into the west. Written from Legolas’ perspective.

A/N: I chose this particular period in time because I wanted to explore more in depth the reasons why Legolas decided to leave Middle Earth as soon as he learns of Aragorn’s death as it is only fleetingly mentioned in the appendices.  This took way too long and I am still far from satisfied with it. I spent two nights trying to decide what the tombs and the burial arrangements would be like (whether the bodies would be set in enclosed tombs or not (and then gave up after going nowhere)). Still, I hope you will enjoy reading it :), I am also very thankful to those readers who were kind enough to leave likes or comments or reblogs on my last fic and to those who didn’t as well, you all make my day, I love reading your comments and reblog tags!

Words: 1379

‘Look!’ he cried. ‘Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.’

‘Say not so!’ said Gimli. ‘There are countless things still to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay.’ 

‘Dull and dreary indeed!’ said Merry: ‘You must not go to the Havens, Legolas. There will always be some folk, big or little, and even a few wise dwarves like Gimli, who need you. At least I hope so. Though I feel somehow that the worst of this war is still to come. How I wish it was all over, and well over!’

~ Chapter 9 Book 5, Lord of the Rings

There were now no folk, big or little that needed him now. The vision had come to him unbidden as he lay dreaming, wide eyed, gazing up into the many stars of Varda and walked among the strange paths in a place between the gaps of the waking world known only to elves.

Painted within his mind, he saw unbeknownst to him the Hallows of Minas Tirith and within its watchful darkness, three figures arranged abreast upon a great slab of marble each in a peaceful slumber, hands folded atop their chests and garbed in pale raiment. Upon the left he discerned the form of Merry and upon the right lay Pippin, their hair white and their faces lined with the wrinkles of laughter lines and between them, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. At his feet lay folded the standard of Elendil, its seven stars set with gems catching the thin light that filtered in through the barred panels of the mausoleum and flickering with a pale faintness like the slow extinguishing of lamps in the pale dawn.

Legolas reached out with his mind, but he could not find the fëa of the three that lay before him and as his fingers reached out to wake them, he felt no warmth, no gentle stirring of the breath. There was no doubt now, the king had passed out of the world, shepherded to the Halls of Mandos and beyond into an afterlife where he would never follow.

He felt the consuming emptiness of sorrow stir within him like the stoking of an icy fire, leaving him cold and shaking again at the loss of not one but three of his dearest friends. As he turned over onto his side, emerging from his rest he dreamt no more of the fair mallorn trees of Lothlórien in golden autumn nor of the last strongholds of Fangorn in eternal spring or the brilliant halls of Thranduil in their glory before they were diminished. A shadow had fallen on his heart and from afar, the white city itself was shrouded in a suffocating grey mist.

And looking to the west towards the White City of Gondor from his bower in Ithilien he began to sing, weaving the tapestry of stories and the great deeds of his friends in a song that leapt, soaring like the great Eagles in its most glorious retellings and fell tinkling into the deep wells of lamentation. The last of his kin who heard his song quietly removed themselves from their dwellings and were themselves so moved and enamoured that they were said to be brought perforce to mourn for them, although they did not know them. To the ears of Men also the lament came, Aragorn’s people who understood not the winding language of the Sindar but upon listening grovelled and wept, for it awakened the truth within them and none were surprised when they received the black news of his passing the following day.

At the last note, Legolas faltered and verily, he knew the time had come for him to heed at last the haunting cry of the gulls and cross the great western sea.

For three years, he gathered his kindred and together they crafted a mighty ship by the shores of Ithilien, crested by a swan’s head set with silver at the bow. The men of Ithilien looked ever on in awe for they had never seen any ship fairer and the make of it, from its rope and canvas – light and iridescent - to the delicately carved oars in the shape of freshly fallen leaves, were of elvish design and its graceful curves and finish were beyond the work of any man.

As the time grew near to its completion, Legolas sought Gimli at the Glittering Caves, and bade him come with him over the sea and into the west for he could not bear for his closest friend and final living reminder of his time on Middle Earth to be left behind. Just as the Caves themselves had been slowly carved by the dwarrow to reveal its hidden beauty, time had tempered Gimli and although the furnace within his eyes still burned with the ferocity of determination, he looked to be in the winter of his days. His hair was more white than brown and was no longer as spry as he had been in his youthful days sprinting across the fields of Rohan. It was not so difficult to glean a smile from him now for though he had once been grim, the days of the War had been left behind and his people flourished in the new colony under his guidance. All was well and the world seemed all the brighter with Legolas by his side. That night a great feast was set and Legolas was given a place beside Gimli at the high table and much honoured by his hosts.

He laughed and joked that Legolas had found himself more drawn to the underground than any elf there had been before him, his merriment bounding off the stars of the Earth embedded in the vaulted ceiling glimmering and iridescent. Looking high above his head to admire the work of Gimli he was reminded of the seven stars of Elendil, flickering at the feet of Aragorn and he shivered, his quip evaporating on his tongue. The cavern seemed all at once too large and despite the blazing torches, he felt cold and small.

“Gimli, my course is set for the shores of Aman. I walked in my dreams with the music of the waters cradling me, I felt the gentle rocking of a ship beneath my feet and a chorus of voices in the sea winds calling me. Will you sail with me? For there is more that I wish for you and I to see together, fairer than all the gems and treasures of the earth and deeper than the wisdom and thriving loveliness of any wood, so it is told. In such waking sleep the Lady of the Galadhrim came to me and she obtained grace for you to be received in the Blessed Realm even before I knew my own thought.”

Gimli was silent. His dark eyes hardened and he thought long for it was a hard choice to make. He loved the plunging valleys and cutting peaks of Aulë and in his dreams he gazed into the calm waters of the Mirrormere and wandered far underground discovering new places and minerals beyond comprehension, each more delightful than the last as he delved deeper into the very bones of the earth. No greed hid within his heart for he wished only to see the beautiful and learn from the fair. Yet he knew he was ever waning and growing closer to death as the timeless years marched on and if he did not go now, then he would be withdrawn without a choice to Aman by Aulë himself. Either way, his time was drawing thin and he wanted more than ever his friend by his side to ease his passing.

And he agreed, if only to gaze upon the exquisiteness of Galadriel again, to see Valinor in all its glory and to find anew things that lay beyond his wildest imaginings in that far island. His mind was set. Legolas was himself content and relieved for the dwarrow were a stubborn people and he knew that Gimli beheld things in a much different light than he did.

Together, they crossed the rolling plains to Ithilien borne by swift feet of horses to see the grand ship finished and sea ready. And together again, they would sail down the River Anduin on the pale dawn on the third year of the passing of Aragorn, leaving behind them the land of their forefathers, Middle Earth that they were born and raised in. 

It is said by the men who watched on that day that not one of the travellers heading toward the distant shores of Aman ever looked back, only onwards to where their final journey would take them...

And some who looked closely would have seen that among the host of elves on the ship stood an elderly dwarf beside his friend at the bow.

[tolkienmatters]

The Grey Havens (Sindarin: Mithlond) was a major Elvish city in Eriador, on the coast of Lindon. Founded at the beginning of the Second Age by elves who survived the War of Wrath, the city is noted for being the primary port from Middle-Earth to Valinor. Círdan The Shipwright was the lord of the Havens and Lindon after Gil-Galad’s death, Círdan ruled throughout the Third and Fourth Ages. Notable people who came to Middle Earth through Mithlond include the first Númenóreans, The Istari (Gandalf received the ring of Narya from Círdan when he arrived), and the Gondorian fleet that fought Angmar during the Angmar’s conquest of Arnor. The port was the biggest emigration point for Elves leaving Middle Earth for Valinor. After the War of the Ring the Last Riding of the Keepers of the Rings occurred, where Elrond, Galadriel, Bilbo, Frodo, and most of the remaining High Elves went to the Havens and sailed to Valinor. In the Fourth Age the Last Ship left from the Grey Havens, which carried Círdan and Celeborn. The Grey Havens never fell to siege or violence, and had an almost religious significance to the Elves, as it was their final sight of Middle Earth before they passed into the Blessed Realm.

“‘Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.’

Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

- Gandalf saying goodbye as him and Frodo board the ship to go West. Samwise, Pippin, and Merry had gone with them to say goodbye. Of the remaining Hobbits Samwise would eventually cross the sea, as he had been a ringbearer, albeit briefly. Return of the King, The Grey Havens.

[amid-ice-and-snow]

@gxldenfinwe | reply to this ::

Elrohir was quiet as he walked by the older elf, keeping an eye on his child in-case they woke and panicked. he didn't say for a few minutes, before running a scarred hand through his hair with a weary sigh. "I didn't have a lot of choice. The Hunters were getting closer to finding Mithlond and in turn, us."

there wasn't any warning to what happened next. one minute, the youngest of Elrond's sons was walking and talking; the next, he simply faded into unconsciousness. everything had finally caught up with him as it registered that they were both safe.

[amidst-snow-and-ice-moved]

For: Open Muse: Halrë Verse: Valinor

his grandparents had been rightly concerned that he wouldn't, couldn't, settle in Valinor. it didn't cone as a surprise; Halrë wasn't exactly known for wanting to be around others. his restlessness had been curbed temporarily after being allowed to visit the Dwarves, a request not usually permitted.

yet the former Gondolin blacksmith still couldn't settle. he hadn't visited anyone that he knew, avoiding those like Turgon for reasons unknown to most. eventually Halrë made his home in the mountains, stifling the urge to wander and his only visitors being family.

the quiet blacksmith rarely visited the cities in Valinor. preferring to keep his distance, so he didn't run into anyone who could recognise him. however it wouldn't be long before someone did spot him and word would start to spread. making it harder to avoid certain elves.

[thelightofvalinor]

Elves - Masterpost

The Elves (Quendi) were the first of the races of the Children of Ilúvatar. About the same time that Varda, Queen of the Valier, ended her labours in creating the Stars, the Elves awoke beside the lake Cuiviénen. The first things they saw were the stars, and henceforth they adored them. The first sound they heard was the flowing of water, and henceforth they loved water as well. 

“ELF MAGIC”

Other races often spoke of 'Elf magic', or of objects made by Elves as if they contained enchantments. It is unclear how accurate it is to call Elvish arts and crafts 'magic' or 'enchanted'. Elves themselves only used these words when attempting to simplify or clarify how elvish-made things seemed to have a special quality that no other races were able to achieve. Powerful Elves seemed to have control over nature and the elements, their clothes seemed to shine with their own light, their blades seemed to never lose their sharpness. Less educated folks could not explain these effects, so they simply called them 'magic'.

MAJOR DIVISIONS  

Avari The Avari were a branch of Elves that refused to make the Great Journey. Location: Cuiviénen, Taur-im-Duinath, Rhûn, Eriador, Vales of Anduin First leaders: Morwë, Nurwë

Eldar Eldar was the name given to the Elves by the Vala Oromë when he first found them wandering in the starlight of Cuiviénen. After the summons of the Valar, it came to be used only for the West-elves who followed the summons and began the Great Journey. 

Vanyar The Vanyar were the first and smallest clan of the Elves and they comprise most of those who did not leave Aman. In the War of Wrath they held white banners and it is said they preferred spears instead of swords and bows. Location: Taniquetil, Valmar Distinction: Most revered of the Elven kindreds, good in song and poetry, loved by Manwë and Varda Hair colour: Golden/Yellow Leader: High King of the all Elves - Ingwë

Noldor The Noldor  or Ñoldor were those of the second clan of the Elves who came to Aman. They were highly skilled in crafts and gained much knowledge, which they passed on to Men after their Exile.The Noldor were the proudest of the Elves; in the words of the Sindar, they came to Middle-earth because "they needed room to quarrel in". Location: Tirion, Formenos, Vinyamar, Hithlum, Gondolin, Nargothrond, Dorthonion, East Beleriand, Lindon, Eregion Distinction: Great skill with metal and gems, deep knowledge; greatest warriors in Middle-earth; their preferred weapons are sword and shield Hair colour: Dark, sometimes red, rarely silver and golden (House of Finarfin) First leader: High King of the Noldor - Finwë

Teleri The Teleri were the third of the Elf clans who took the Great Journey. To them belonged the Valinorean Teleri (known as the Falmari), and the Sindar, Laiquendi, and Nandor of Middle-earth. In ancient times they named themselves Lindar, or "Singers", because they were known for their fair voice. Location: Alqualondë, Isle of Balar, Ossiriand, Doriath, Tol Eressëa, Edhellond, Mithlond, Lothlórien, Mirkwood Distinction: Adoration for the sea/forest Hair colour: Dark or silver  First leader: Elwë (Elu Thingol); Olwë

Falmari The Falmari or Teleri of Aman, were those of the Teleri who followed the Great Journey into Beleriand and reached Valinor. Having been taught by Ossë, the Teleri were masters of music, the sea and shipbuilding, and they used Swan-ships. The Falmari prized the pearls which they found from the sea and used for their halls. The Teleri also prized silver (which they called “telpe”) above gold. Location: Tol Eressëa, Alqualondë Distinction: Singers, mariners Hair colour: Usually dark, sometimes silver Leader: King of Alqualondë - Olwë

Sindar Sindar ("Grey People) or Grey Elves were Elves of Telerin descent who inhabited Beleriand. They were united under the King of Doriath Elu Thingol, and later his grandson Dior Eluchíl. Although they did not see the light of the Two Trees, they still became the fairest and most wise and skillful of the elves of Middle-earth under the rule of Thingol and Melian in Doriath, and they are therefore sometimes referred to as "Elves of the Twilight". Location: Doriath, the Falas, Nan Elmoth, much of Beleriand Distinction: Good singers, woodsmen, and shipbuilders   Hair colour: Usually dark, sometimes silver First leader: King of Doriath - Elwë (Elu Thingol)

Nandor The Nandor, who included the Silvan Elves (or "Wood-elves") and Laiquendi, were one of the Telerin races of Elves. They were Úmanyar i.e. part of the Teleri who began the Great Journey but did not complete it. The Nandor were the original elven inhabitants of Middle-earth east of Beleriand, but eventually they also stretched out across the Ered Luin as well into Ossiriand. Many journeyed down the River Anduin forming Kingdoms of the Silvan Elves: the Woodland Realm and Lothlórien. Location: Vales of Anduin, Ossiriand, Lindon, shores of Lake Nenuial (Evendim), Lothlórien, East Lórien, Belfalas, Woodland Realm, Ithilien Distinction: Secretive, lovers of the forests and animals   Hair colour: Usually dark First leader: Lenwë

Laiquendi The Green-elves (Laiquendi/Laegrim/Green Elves) were a clan of the Nandor. After many years, Lenwë's son Denethor set out westward once again, and led some part of the Nandor across the Misty Mountains and the Blue, settling at last in the Land of Seven Rivers beneath the Ered Luin; the land called Ossiriand. Location: Ossiriand, Lindon Distinction: Secretive, lovers of the forests and animals  Hair colour: Usually dark First leader: King of the Laiquendi - Denethor

Silvan Elves The Silvan Elves or the Wood-elves, was a name used to refer to the reclusive, forest-dwelling Elves of Middle-earth. In the late Third Age, the Silvan Elves mostly belonged either to the Galadhrim or to the Elves of Mirkwood. They hid themselves in their woodland realms beyond the Misty Mountains and became a scattered folk hardly distinguishable from Avari. While some of the Nandor continued to Eriador and later entered Ossiriand, some remained in the Vales of Anduin, and from these latter originated the Wood-elves. Location: Lothlórien, East Lórien, Edhellond, Woodland Realm, Ithilien Distinction: Secretive, lovers of the forests and animals, less wise and more dangerous than other Eldar Hair colour: Usually dark First leaders: King of Lórien - Amroth; King of the Woodland Realm - Oropher

(Cover photo artwork: @alystraea - be sure to check this blog, it contains beautiful art!) (Source: Tolkien Gateway)

[rangers-arecool]

Elladan followed him, not even attempting to catch up with the fast running elf. Not that he was surprised at the sudden movement.

--

At the docks, the lone ship had attracted attention for the design was similar to the old Numenoric shipbuilding ways. But the symbol on the single sail was of a very familiar seven point star; the same star that all Northern Dunedain used on their cloak pin.

There was a wariness to the Ranger's movements, one that had her staying just next to the ship's entrance. Elrond and Galadriel had both tried to persuade her to come with them to come to their family's temporary home in Aqualonde and wait for Glorfindel there, fearing for her health. But she refused.

It was obvious that Hal wasn't well. She was far too pale and thin to be safe, almost grey from exhaustion. But old age hadn't seemed to affect her, for she still looked like she did the day he had left. Instead, a far too small for his age elfling was curled against her chest, asleep in a blanket with bits of golden hair just visible. Then dark eyes shot up and caught sight of him, relief at seeing the Eldar making her waver rather dangerously on her feet.

"Glorfindel!"

"Lord Glorfindel, did you leave anyone behind when you left Middle-Earth?" Elladan asked, knowing that he had left a certain Ranger and his heart back there.

//Fin - Hal | side addition of Elladan | Valinor

@rangers-arecool

Glorfindel offered Elladan a small smile, unable to hide the sorrow from his eyes. "I believe you already know the answer to that question, my friend," he answered simply. It wasn't that he was avoiding the question, more that speaking the answer aloud would make his heart feel the loss even more.

[what-would-elrond-say]

Part 2 of 2:

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk and Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From a World's End there he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder Days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbéd star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where Mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse."

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring.

This was a poem composed by Bilbo in Rivendel, with a little help from Aragorn.

It tells the tale of Eärendil the Mariner, father of Elrond half-elven, who sailed into the west with a Silmarill and enlisted the help of the Valar in the fight against Morgoth, sparking the War of Wrath, and bringing the first age to a close. Aragorn believes that it was perhaps a bit presumptuous to sing about Eärendil the Mariner in the house of Elrond.

Part 1:

https://what-would-elrond-say.tumblr.com/post/173344797226/part-1-of-2-eärendil-was-a-mariner-that-tarried

[cybergems]

The tale of EärendilAs

sung by Bilbo Baggins at Rivendell.

Eärendil was a mariner that tarried in Arvernien; he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in; her sails he wove of silver fair, of silver were her lanterns made, her prow was fashioned like a swan, a light upon her banners laid. In panoply of ancient kings, in chainéd rings he armoured him; his shining shield was scored with runes to ward all wounds and harm from him; his bow was made of dragon-horn, his arrows shorn of ebony, of silver was his habergeon, his scabbard of chaceldony; his sword of steel was valiant, of adamant his helmet tall, an eagle-plume upon his crest, upon his breat an emerald. Beneath the Moon and under star he wandered far from northern strands bewildered on enchanted ways beyond the days of mortal lands. From gnashing of the Narrow Ice where shadow lies on frozen hills, from nether heats and burning waste he turned in haste, and roving still on starless waters far astray at last he came to Night of Naught, and passed, and never sight he saw of shining shore not light he sought. The winds of wrath came driving him, and blindly in the foam he fled from west to east and errandless, unheralded he homeward sped. There flying Elwing came to him, and flame was in the darkness lit; more bright than light of diamond the fire upon her carcanet. The Silmaril she bound on him and crowned him with the living light and dauntless then with burning brow he turned his prow; and in the night from Otherworld beyond the Sea there strong and free a storm arose, a wind of power in Tarmenel; by paths that seldom mortal goes his boat it bore with biting breath as might of death across the grey and long-forsaken seas distressed: from east to west he passed away. Through Evernight he back was borne on black and roaring waves that ran o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores that drowned before the Days began, until he heard on strands of pearl where ends the world the music long, where ever-foaming billows roll the yellow hold and jewels wan. He saw the Mountain silent rise where twilight lies upon the knees of Valinor, and Eldamar beheld afar beyond the seas. A wanderer escaped from night to haven white he came at last to Elvenhome the green and fair where keen the air, where pale as glass beneath the Hill of Ilmarin a-glimmer in a valley sheer the lamplit towers of Tirion are mirrored on the Shadowmere. He tarried there from errantry, and melodies they taught to him, and sages old him marvels told, and harps of gold they brought to him. They clothed him then in elven-white, and seven lights before him sent, as though the Calacirian to hidden land forlorn he went. He came unto the timeless halls where shining fall the countless years, and endless reigns the Elder King in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer; and words unheard were spoken then of folk of Men and Elven-kin, beyond the world were visions showed forbid to those that dwell therein. A ship then new they built for him of mithril and of elven-glass with shining prow; no shaven oar nor sail she bore on silver mast: the Silmaril as lantern light and banner bright with living flame to gleam thereon by Elbereth herself was set, who thither came and wings immortal made for him, and laid on him undying doom, to sail the shoreless skies and come behind the Sun and light of Moon. From Evereven's lofty hills where softly silver fountains fall his wings him bore, a wandering light, beyond the might Mountain Wall. from World's End then he turned away, and yearned again to find afar hi shome through shadows journeying, and buring as an island star on high above the mists he came, a distant flame before the Sun, a wonder ere the waking dawn where grey the Norland waters run. And over Middle-earth he passed and heard at last the weeping sore of women and of elven-maids in Elder Days, in years of yore. But on him mighty doom was laid, till Moon should fade, an orbed star to pass, and tarry never more on Hither Shores where mortals are; for ever still a herald on an errand that should never rest to bear his shining lamp afar, the Flammifer of Westernesse.

[frodomikky]

Really feeling this song atm. Wishing i could step into that picture, sail into Valinor on Frodo’s ship... Walk seamlessly into Elysium with Maximus from Gladiator... slip quietly out of this existence into a suspension of perfect bliss and peace... i need peace... read these lyrics and see if you feel it too... ----- Lay down Your sweet and weary head Night is falling You’ve come to journey's end Sleep now And dream of the ones who came before They are calling From across the distant shore Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see All of your fears will pass away Safe in my arms You're only sleeping [Chorus] What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come to carry you home And all will turn To silver glass A light on the water All souls pass Hope fades Into the world of night Through shadows falling Out of memory and time Don't say: «We have come now to the end» White shores are calling You and I will meet again And you'll be here in my arms Just sleeping [Chorus] And all will turn To silver glass A light on the water Grey ships pass Into the West ~Annie Lennox, Into the West the Return of the King, the Lord of the Rings