#*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rangers-arecool · 3 months ago

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Working on owes gradually.

In the meantime:

Starter calls can be found at the following links The Hobbit | Rangers | Summer fun | Shipping

Info on the two main AU verses I have Sentinel/Tolkien crossover | Fading Light Comment below if you'd like a starter based in one of these verses

Meme tag is: *|* to go where the wind takes us *|* :: memes Open starters can be found by using the tag: *|* when one door closes / another door opens *|* :: open starter

New verse across all my blogs Shipping based: *|* “ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴀʟʟɪᴇs ᵗᵒ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs / ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᴄʜᴇʀɪsʜ ᵗʰᵉ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ. ” *|* :: land of new feelings

Connections If you'd like a connection with Hal, be that Platonic, Familial or Romantic, DM me or comment. Her current connections can be found here.

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rangers-are-cool-moved · 1 year ago

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For: Open | Let me know if you want this tagged to a specific muse Muse: Hal Verse: Fading Light

As a Dúnedan and a Ranger of the North, trust was not something she was used to being granted. In the darkened days of the third Age, that trust had grown - but not when it came to her. The actions of her parents had always worked against her, despite being trusted by her own kin.

The so-called fight and her subsequent abandonment to the Darkside had proven that she couldn't be trusted. But few outside of Aragorn and the Dúnedain knew the truth. It was all a lie, used to protect her on the undercover mission to Angmar. A task that even many of her kin had baulked at.

"Get.. the Hobbits.. out of.. here..."

Her help had made the way to Mordor and Mount Doom far easier, although no one had known. Not even her kin. The Hobbits had been her priority and with the One Ring now destroyed, Hal knew that getting them away from the erupting volcano was all that mattered.

Death had never really phased her. Not when she had one foot in the Dead for decades. And her injuries ensured that getting off the volcano under her own power wasn't going to happen. So dying here was the only other option.

GANDALF AND THE EAGLES DECIDED OTHERWISE.

The former Esteldin Commander had been fighting to stay conscious ever since reaching the top of Mt Doom. But getting picked up by Landroval finally allowed her to pass out, knowing Frodo and Sam would be safe. Her own safety was just an after thought.

But that would soon alter when the Ranger woke up in the High Healing Halls within Minas Tirith. There had been a few times when they thought she wouldn't stir at all. As typical though, she was alone when dark grey eyes began to flicker open for the first time in a month.

Making it a surprise when the first visitor came to sit at her bedside. "Water please..."

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valanvar · 13 days ago

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50 dialogue prompts set in the dark, high-fantasy universe of Tolkien, inspired by Middle-earth’s intense struggles, deep mysteries, and complex characters. They lean into the darker themes, exploring the shades of betrayal, loyalty, loss, and the consuming nature of power.

𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊, 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝖓𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗.

"This road leads only to ruin... yet it is the only path we have left."

"If you wish to see the dawn, cast away the ring, for it will end us both."

"They call me kin, but I know the gleam of greed in their eyes."

"Not all shadows are cast by the Dark Lord; some are born within our own hearts."

"Do you truly believe these stones remember? That they hold whispers of ages past?"

"You swore no oath to the light; will you then take one for the dark?"

"In war, we lose parts of ourselves that no magic or power can restore."

"The elves may sing of peace, but even they sharpen their blades in secret."

"I have walked among the dead, and even they fear what stirs in Mordor."

"Not every hero wears armor, and not every villain bears a crown."

"What good is victory if we become the very darkness we fought to defeat?"

"Do you not hear the mountains mourn, the rivers weep, for what is to come?"

"Your blood is rich with power, but power has a way of devouring its master."

"Once, I fought for honor. Now, I fight only to survive."

"You think love can save us? In Mordor, love is just another weapon."

"The stars fade, the trees die, and even the earth trembles. What hope have we?"

"Darkness has many forms, but the worst is that which lies in the heart."

"They say no one escapes the mines of Moria, but I have… at a terrible cost."

"There is no throne worth sitting upon if it’s bought with the souls of the innocent."

"The wise speak of light and dark, but they forget that shadows give both shape."

"To rule is to destroy, whether by peace or by war."

"I saw the fires of Mount Doom and felt the weight of eternity pressing down upon me."

"It is not the sword that wounds most, but the choice to wield it."

"Elves may dance in moonlight, but they leave death in the shadows."

"These stones were once proud, now they crumble, just as kingdoms do."

"Do you feel it? The world grows colder, and not from winter alone."

"Some battles are not won by strength, but by the silence of a shadow."

"To seek immortality is to walk hand-in-hand with madness."

"Even Sauron was once noble; do not let your heart follow his path."

"It is not the fire that consumes, but the spark that ignites it."

"The wind carries whispers of betrayal, and even the trees cannot be trusted."

"For every sword raised in courage, there lies a thousand hearts broken."

"Once, I trusted the light, but now I see it can blind as surely as darkness."

"The line between enemy and ally is as thin as a sword’s edge."

"When all you hold dear is lost, tell me then, what price would you not pay?"

"In the end, the strongest weapon is neither sword nor spell, but despair."

"I remember when this valley was green… now it reeks of decay."

"The One Ring may be gone, but evil does not die so easily."

"Every victory costs a piece of our souls; what shall we have left?"

"How long can a heart bear the burden of hate before it becomes what it despises?"

"They say the Shire is untouched… but shadows creep, even there."

"To be mortal is to suffer, and to be immortal is to watch suffering without end."

"Magic is neither light nor dark; it is only as twisted as the hand that wields it."

"The fire in the mountain may sleep, but it has not forgotten its rage."

"Even the bravest fear what lies beyond the veil of death."

"They call it victory, but what they don't see is the cost yet to be paid."

"Beware of those who offer help in dark times; even shadows seek companions."

"Hope is the cruelest gift of all; it leads you onward, even unto ruin."

"I have walked the long path of sorrow; tell me, what would you give to walk another?"

"Evil lies not in power, but in the hands of those who would use it."

#ψ･― asks 〉one ring to rule them all.

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amid-ice-and-snow · 10 months ago

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Verses for Elrohir

Always welcome to ask if you'd like poke at a particular personal verse.

Verses Information Crossed between: Elrohir stays behind & becoming a parent | here

Shared verses

Main

AU

This will probably be added to later.

#~/ twins are one soul in two bodies \~ :: elrohir #elrohir verses

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amidst-snow-and-ice-moved · 1 year ago

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Elrohir muse on the brain. Always welcome to ask if you'd like poke at a particular personal verse.

Verses Information Crossed between: Elrohir stays behind & becoming a parent | here

Shared verses

Main

AU

#*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won #*|* being empathic doesn't mean you are weak *|* :: sentinel/guide

This will probably be added to later.

#~/ twins are one soul in two bodies \~ :: elrohir #elrohir verses

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bloodwingblackbird · 3 years ago

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I wish you would write a fic where Maglor has to pass through the dead marshes to reach something dear to him

Is this something?

The place smells better than it had the last time he was here, but Maglor is not much happier to have returned. In all fairness, the last time he was here, he had been hiding amongst the Numenorean host, hiding his ears beneath one of their ridiculous winged helms (taken from a corpse) (he wasn’t using it anymore), hiding his eyes with a gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

He’d had good reason to watch the ground. The battle had churned it into a perilous mire, mud that was as much blood as water, accidental caltrops of lost, broken weaponry, and the more mournful obstacle: the dead themselves. It had been the work of long days to bury them all, even as hastily and disrespectfully as they had done. Maglor had longed for the clean fire that had claimed his father, his brothers, but these Men buried their dead, even though the wet was everywhere, seeming to rise up through the very ground.

What Maglor wouldn’t have given for a single, clean stone.

There were marshes already, even then, to the northwest, and during the long battle, they had lost many to their mires, to their own pride and impatience. Still not satisfied, the marshes had sent forth great hosts of biting flies that harried them, worst at dawn and dusk, but never truly leaving them in peace, so that even their rest was punctuated by tiny wounds, every inch of uncovered skin marked by the attacks, even long after the battle had ended.

The battle now is over, the age passed away, and a new one begun. They won that war, perhaps, but now that he looks upon this place again, Maglor thinks that it was the marshes that were the true victor.

He has already been walking for days when he finds himself at their edges, at the strange border of a place not entirely land, not entirely water, the border no more sharp edged than the rest of it. It’s the smell that reaches him first. Again, it is not as bad as when he had worked to bury their dead, muck and blood to the shoulders, feet that hadn’t been dry in months, nose and lungs so full of the stench that he couldn’t even smell it anymore. There’s still a reek in the air, an almost visible fug of green and rot that hovers over the area, a scent like an untended garden at the end of the summer, all mold and rotten vegetation.

The flies are still there, and Maglor wonders if he is truly the first meat they’ve seen in all these long years. No one crosses the marshes if they can help it. There is nothing on the other side, nothing for anyone who values their life and sanity, at any rate.

He slaps at his neck, a little harder than he means to, and pulls his hand away, holding it up to see the little streak of blood in the fading light. He wishes he had an option other than walking, but then, that’s the reason he is in this blighted land to begin with.

Maglor has a horse. Or. Maglor had a horse. Before a party of orcs had stolen it from him.

It had been a good horse, of Rohirrim stock. He had purchased the horse no more than the orcs had, but he treated the horse kindly and the horse liked him, and he liked the horse a good deal more than he liked anyone he had met in several centuries. So it should really have been no surprise when a raiding party of orcs had made off with his horse one night.

The surprising part is that they haven’t eaten the horse yet.

He can still see her tracks, though, her dainty hoofmarks sharp among their heavy boots, and he half-hopes they are working for someone else, someone who would want a horse for more than food, for something that would keep her alive and unharmed for a bit longer. Of course, that sort of something, stirring in the ruins of Sauron’s realm could well be its own sort of terror, but Maglor doesn’t much care to think about that. He just wants his horse back. If there is another war, he promises himself, he and his horse will go back to the coast, will make the stories true, and live out their days (or Horse’s days, at least) running in the surf and eating little crabs.

Maglor finds the edge of the dry land just as the last of the light leaves the western sky. He should stop there, make camp, wait for the dawn, but no one has ever called him wise, and he is not afraid of the place, not with the mountain dormant and Sauron defeated, but neither is he willing to spend an instant longer so close.

It is a dark night. No moon. No stars. The sort of night when the darkness hangs close about. Maglor feels that he can almost touch it, and looking down, finds his own hand extended, as if he means to push it aside.

And that’s when he notices that the darkness has lifted. He thinks that it is not real, his eyes conjuring phantoms to fill the nothingness before his eyes, but no. He moves his hand again and finds the paths of it in the air before him, wan and greenish, but there all the same, as if he has awoken something.

There’s a soft whuff and a light appears in the distance, a light that only serves to make the darkness deeper. Maglor follows. He is no fool (this is a lie, but then, Maglor often says that he is both a fool and a liar. Ask Horse); he has heard the tales of the things that lurk in the marshes. He’ll not be lured further than he means to go, but right now, he means to go a bit further, to see what he is being shown. Maglor doesn’t fear the dead, not here, not when he knows these dead, not when he laid many of them to rest, however poor a job he might have made of it.

Perhaps he should. They peer out at him from their pools, bodies that should have long since gone back to the slime and the dust. Elves, Men, Orcs, in death all the same. Maglor wonders: are they truly here, their spirits somehow held to this place, mired forever in the marshes, holding their little candles in the night, taking their only solace in the brief company of an unwary traveler?

It seems cruel. More cruel, even, than his own destiny, for he, at least, called his own fate upon himself, composed the words that will doom, have doomed, himself, his father, his brothers. These are not innocent. Few are innocent, but they went forth, knowing that while their death might await them on these fields, they knew that that would be an end, whatever end their kind can expect. But they do not deserve this.

Now he stares into the water, the face before him angry, maybe, or maybe only contorted in the agonies of his death (and who will not be angry when death comes for him?), the hands, pale now as fish, and moving in sharp spasms illuminated by the greenish light that now comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. Maglor wonders if he knew this one. Wonders if this one knows him, knows that at the end they had just been piling the bodies together, not even separating friend from foe, wonders if this is why he is unwelcome.

Or too welcome.

He looks up. There is a ring of lights about him, pale and greenish, a stench of rotten cabbage, of latrines, and there is a song. Maglor listens, for he must, because he is a singer, and who else can say that the dead came forth to teach him their songs?

The song has no words, the song barely has a tune. It’s a drone like the insect hosts of the marshes, like the heavy wind scything through the grasses, like the gurgle of mud, like the slithering of the strange foul fish that live within the mires and pools. If rot could sing, this would be its song.

It is not a lovely song, but it soothes, it quiets, it smothers, it numbs. It’s a song like wine, cloying and sweet, and Maglor has always wanted to feel less than he feels, and so he follows, deep into the Marshes, to the edge of a wider pool. His feet are wet now, but he cannot remember having stepped into the water, nor can he remember why he is on his hands and knees, bent over the water, drinking great thirsty gulps of the stagnant pool.

But he is.

He is thirsty beyond imagining, and the slimy water pours down his throat. It is not something to be sipped slowly, something that can only be consumed in gulps and he chokes as he tries to drink, but he does not stop, and the song does not stop either, and he is drowning.

The dead are beside him again, and they reach out their hands to him. They will dance now, however a corpse dances, bones and sinews and slime jerking and heaving in the swamps, and Maglor will learn their song, for he is a mighty singer. He reaches out to the one beside him, but this one is different, his winged helm (grander than the one Maglor once stole) still proud, still tall upon his head, his hair still dark, eyes still bright. He looks like Elros.

At that thought, he is gone, and Maglor is reaching out a shaking hand to the darkness.

In the morning, Maglor is still there. His throat is dry, because he has been singing all night, his chin, his throat, streaked now with silt. The marshes are greedy, because the life of a marsh, he supposes, is one of loss, of tufts of grasses, or reeds and sedges trying to hold fast to their vanishing land. They try to hold the dead, as well, but they cannot, not truly. The marsh holds their memories, though, and it pulls them out of its pockets at night, turns them over, shows them to its visitors, singing to them, “look, see what I once was. See what I still could be. Stay here, with me.” It works, sometimes, and the living become the dead, but even the dead stay only a little while.

Maglor will leave now, though. He has a horse.

#asked and answered #sad elf bullshit #maglor

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daywillcomeagain · 6 years ago

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a fading world

Something that I think people tend to miss about LoTR is that it’s post-apocalyptic.

In the War of Wrath at the end of the Silmarillion, large swaths of Middle-Earth (the parts that are called Beleriand) are utterly destroyed. (here’s a map of that; we have no idea of the Southern coastline, or how much area south of Beleriand was destroyed in the War of Wrath.)

In the Akallabêth, the island country of Númenor (at the time, the major population center of men and the hub for civilization and invention) is sunk. It was more than twice the size of the UK in terms of physical size, and with a population easily numbering in the millions; if you accept the early canon of The Lost Road, they had just invented steel-plated ships (equivalent to the early 1800s of our world), and directly after their sinking invent some form of airship (blimps were invented in the mid-1800s of our world, and airplanes in approximately 1900, which coincide with this estimate), putting them only one or two hundred years away from inventions such as plastic, machine guns, movies, robots, radio, nuclear bombs, and the internet. For reference, The Hobbit--with all its pre-industrial charm and its battles fought with sword, bow, and axe--takes place just over three thousand years later.

The world is changed. It has changed physically: Beleriand and Númenor are no more. Its people have changed: the Entwives are gone, the Petty-Dwarves are gone, the Elves are fading and leaving for Valinor, the Ents are falling asleep, the Dwarf population is declining, the Hobbits are fated to slowly disappear over the course of the next age. Even height and lifespan have decreased, just as the magic in the world has: Thingol, who was created rather than born, was likely around eight feet tall; Galadriel, who was born in the First Age, was 6’4; Legolas, born in the Second or Third Age, was shorter than both Aragorn (6’6”) and Boromir (6’4”). The first King of Númenor lived to be 500; Tar-Vanimeldë, third queen and sixteenth ruler, lived to be 360; their heir, Aragorn, lived to be 210, and is noted for his long life. This slow diminishing can be seen in everything from swords (ancient swords are valued in combat much more than newer weapons, even though the opposite makes more intuitive sense, as weapons can acquire damage through use, implying that older swords were made better or have other qualities that make them superior; it is noted in FotR that only swords from the Elder Days glow in the presence of orcs, implying that bladesmiths have decreased in ability, knowledge, or both) to trees (Telperion, which gave out a light brighter than the sun or moon, is the direct ancestor of the White Tree of Gondor). In all things, the trajectory is the same: once, the world was great; now, it is not, and it is shrinking all the time.

Perhaps the most poignant example of this for me is the Song of Durin, sung by Gimli as the Fellowship passes through Moria. He describes a glorious kingdom, lit by lamps of crystal, with floors and ceilings of silver and gold, with magic carved into every door, occupied by craftsmen and bards alike--as they walk through its stony ruins in the dark. The world was young, the song starts, and the next stanza begins with The world was fair; the last stanza, on the other hand, starts with The world is grey. Khazad-dûm, the place the song is about, is renamed Moria, meaning literally ‘black pit’. This is the message: Once, the world was beautiful and young. Now it is old and dark. Stars that once were “as gems” are now “sunken”. Gondolin has fallen; Nargothrond has fallen; Doriath has fallen; Nogrod and Belegost have fallen; Eregion has fallen; Moria has fallen; Erebor has fallen; Minas Ithil has fallen--honestly, it would be faster to list the cities in the legendarium that don’t fall than to list the ones that do. The greatest city of the Third Age, Minas Tirith, is dwindling, but its name means simply “Watchtower”--when it was built, it was not a capital or a great city, just a place for guards to keep watch.

Looking at the world in order, the heroes that are focused on grow--both physically and narratively--smaller and smaller, with less and less power: we move from focusing on Eru Himself in the Aindulindalë to the Ainur in the Valaquenta, and then the High Elves of the Silmarillion, the Númenorean Men of the Akallabêth, the hobbits in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. We go from focusing on God and his angels to focusing on immortal kings and princesses with songs of magic to focusing on more ‘ordinary’ human kings and queens, until finally we arrive at the story of a middle-aged villager with no special abilities to speak of.

Even evil has decreased. The Sauron we see in Lord of the Rings is the bodiless shadow of the Sauron of the First Age--who is still but a servant to the greater evil, Morgoth, that drives the plot of the Silmarillion. Smaug is the last of the dragons.

In the Silmarillion, wars were won by beings near-godlike in power, sinking continents into the ocean and damaging the moon. In Lord of the Rings, war is won by a young man, armed only with a dagger, a friend, and a staggering amount of hope. The narratives of the world are changing from grand epics to personal stories of individuals, and the shining past is forgotten, or remembered only as story or song.

This isn’t necessarily good or bad inherently. (Well, except the fall of Númenor. The fall of Númenor was a terrible tragedy. But that’s material for a different post.) Lots of evil in Middle-Earth comes from people trying too hard to hold on to a past that has disappeared; lots of goodness comes from the small, dirty hands of a gardener. But it’s important, when looking at Middle-Earth in comparison with other fantasy settings, to remember: this is not a world full of wonder and magic on its rise. This is a world where grandeur is slowly but surely dying.

#lord of the rings #meta #my posts #mist and twilight cloud and shade #from the hands of the weak #other parts of lotr that give me this feeling:#the fall of gil-galad #'i hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us; fair they wrought us; but they are gone'#everything treebeard says #the scouring of the shire #probably other things too #idk man it's a lot #two years ago i was able to go to italy and visit the roman forum and it gives me the same feeling that reading tolkien gives me #the same sense of 'once there was something great here but it is no longer'

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rangers-arecool · 2 months ago

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For: Halbarad :: @menelvagor Muse: Hal Verses: Fading Light & The Sentinel

A peaceful, clear starlit night with the full moon shining down and bathing everything in it’s bright silvery light. Or at least… that’s what it should have been. But instead, the darkened moonlight shone down on a land broken apart by cracks and crevasses in which shadows twisted and snaked. Never dispersing even in the light of day, for the sunlight could not touch them.

Hoofbeats shattered the eerie silence of a desolate and abandoned farm, passing thorough broken fields on which stalks of golden wheat once grew. But now there was nothing growing, except for wild grasses and the few wildflowers that could survive on the darkness tainted earth. The farmers and animals who had called this place home, were now long gone.

Miles had already been covered by the black Rohan warhorse and his rider. Traversing the ruined landscape easily and leaving the wargs that had tried to follow, far behind. But their long journey was not yet finished, for they still had far to travel to reach their destination and neither wanted to be caught out by daylight.

Hytbold | Rohan

Had it not been for Hal, they would never have been able to make Hytbold into the safe zone it was now. Yet to many of those outside of the Dúnedain, the Commander of Esteldin had finally followed in her father’s footsteps. A fact that was completely untrue but one they couldn’t disperse at that moment. Even though Hal had continually proven her loyalty to both Aragorn and her kin, the sceptics had still remained.

However what many of the Rangers knew, was that Hal had been on a long term undercover mission. In Carn Dum, Angmar. One way coded messages were the only communication that Aragorn received from her. But it had given them a chance to find the burned down town and for that, he was grateful. Although still worried for his friend and second in command.

With a message of just a few words in his hand, the Dúnedain Chieftain went to find the one Ranger it would affect the most. It didn't take long to find the older Sentinel as he rarely went far from the East Guard Tower, the one facing the direction of his Guide.

"Halbarad. I'm taking over your duty tonight. You'll going to be needed elsewhere soon."

#menelvagor :: halbarad #~/ i will always answer the call \~ :: hal #with a side helping of:#~/ to wander the wild is all i ever wanted \~ :: aragorn/strider #*|* being empathic doesn't mean you are weak *|* :: sentinel/guide #*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won #*|* not all doors are locked to keep folk out | sometimes its keeping something in *|* :: closed rp starter #*|* there's light at the end of the tunnel | you just need to find it *|* :: hytbold

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rangers-arecool · 2 months ago

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Under fiery skies and encroaching Darkness, Imladris still stands strong.

Screenshotted and edited by: Lou For the AU verse: Fading Light

#*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won #when the stars align :: my lotro screenshots #*|* a peaceful valley untouched by evil *|* :: imladris

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rangers-arecool · 1 year ago

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Verse: The Last Alliance failed & Sauron won

Main idea: After the Last Alliance fails to defeat Sauron the first time, a low lying almost mist-like darkness has covered Middle-Earth as it enters the Third Age. The One Ring is lost amid the battlefield after Sauron's hand is destroyed and not seen again until it is found in the grasp of a Hobbit.

Light from the Sun and Moon are dimmed due to the darkness, cracks and crevasses form in lands that were once stable and fear reigns.

Lothlorien and Imladris have become beacons of light more than ever, while Mirkwood is destroyed, with Thranduil losing his life to protect his people and leaving Legolas in charge.

Bree and the Shire are protected by Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, while the Hobbits help the Rangers with food for the refugees.

Most of Rohan has been razed to the ground while Fangorn Forest and the Ents aid the survivors as much as they can. Gondor stands on the brink of disaster due to their proximity to Mordor.

Erebor and the Iron Hills are the main strongholds for the Dwarves, although they do try to assist the folk living around them survive. Without caring if they are Mortal or Elf.

The Rangers of the North continue to help and protect where they can. As rumours fly about one of their number, who has seemingly followed in his father’s footsteps and abandoned the Dunedain for the dark side. Unknown to all but his kin, Hal is on a dangerous long term mission as he has gone undercover in Carn Dum, Angmar.

#*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won verse #~/ i will always answer the call \~ :: hal #tw: violence #dark verse

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rangers-arecool · 10 months ago

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For: Fin :: @lordofthegoldenflower Muse: Hal Verse: Sauron Has Won | Dark AU

A peaceful, clear starlit night with the full moon shining down and bathing everything in it’s bright silvery light. Or at least… that’s what it should have been. But instead, the darkened moonlight shone down on a land broken apart by cracks and crevasses in which shadows twisted and snaked. Never dispersing even in the light of day, for the sunlight could not touch them.

Hoofbeats shattered the eerie silence of a desolate and abandoned farm, passing thorough broken fields on which stalks of golden wheat once grew. But now there was nothing growing, except for wild grasses and the few wildflowers that could survive on the darkness tainted earth. The farmers and animals who had called this place home, were now long gone.

Miles had already been covered by the black Rohan warhorse and his rider. Traversing the ruined landscape easily and leaving the wargs that had tried to follow, far behind. But their long journey was not yet finished, for they needed to reach one of the few remaining safe places left this side of the Misty Mountains. Or the Dúnedan hoped Imladris still stood, otherwise it meant that Lord Elrond had fallen in defence of his home and people.

No one barring Aragorn and the Rangers knew of the dangerous undercover mission that Hal had been on long term. All they knew was that the Commander of Esteldin had gone dark and abandoned her kin, just like her father had done before. Proving to many from the Elves and Men that their suspicions had been right about the gender-fluid Ranger all along. The rumours spread but none of those who knew the truth attempted to stop them, in fear that it would endanger both Hal and her mission.

Now though… the situation had changed.

20 years had passed since she last travelled the wild paths of the Trollshaws. Two decades since she had disappeared into the night, leaving behind a sleeping golden haired Lord with no knowledge of what was to come. It had hurt leaving him like that yet Hal knew that Glorfindel would never have let her go if he'd known. She leaned against a tree just outside of the entrance to the valley, watching her horse companion graze and waiting for her Captain to emerge.

But it wasn't Aragorn who came to meet her.

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rangers-are-cool-moved · 2 years ago

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Verses tags (mostly set in the third era)

Some verses are muse specific, which is why they aren't on here. I’m still working on adding verse though, so this will be updated.

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rangers-are-cool-moved · 2 years ago

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Aragorn tilted his head slightly, before turning to send a silent message to one of the watching Dúnedain. It was a familiar face too; in the form of a former Lone-lands based Ranger. He didn’t need to say anything as Candaith nodded and disappeared to sort out a room for Eruingil and her little brother.

Although he trusted the younger woman, there was a part of him that relaxed slightly at her words. He shot a glance towards the outer part of town and murmured a soft word in a unidentifiable language. This time when the illusion reformed, the rebuilt town remained visible to the two newcomers.

Storm blue eyes studied them, before a small smile formed on his features. “Candaith is getting a room sorted out for you two to share. What happens now depends on what you would like to do.”

For: Eruingil :: @storiedocs Unspecified Muse: Aragorn | Special request only Verse: Fading Light

No one had ever considered what would happen if The Last Alliance of Men and Elves FAILED to defeat Sauron and his forces. None of them had even wanted to think about the consequences of failure. But it was something that they should have taken into consideration, in case a worst scenario situation happened. A scenario that not even Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien had even seen when she looked into the depth of her Mirror.

But the worst DID did come to pass.

And no one were prepared for it to happen. The meaningless deaths of Elendil the Tall, Ereinion Gil-galad High King of the Noldor and many of those, who had marched with them to destroy the Dark Lord and his forces. So much loss and no-one knew exactly why it had failed like it had. Yet the Free People of Middle-Earth still continued to fight to survive. A never-ending battle against a darkness.

~~~

A peaceful, clear starlit night with the full moon shining down and bathing everything in it’s bright silvery light. Or at least… that’s what it should have been. But instead, the darkened moonlight shone down on a land broken apart by cracks and crevasses in which shadows twisted and snaked. Never dispersing even in the light of day, for the sunlight could not touch them. Hauntingly silent and shattered.

Guards constantly scanned the land surrounding the seemingly burned out town of Hytbold, watching for danger and the rare traveller. One of the few remaining occupied settlements in Rohan and protected by both illusions and spirits. To add another layer of protection, the Rangers had taken their camp beneath the town. Deceiving any who might attempt to find and destroy the Dunedain, much like they had the Rohirrims.

There had been alerts raised by those on the Guard Towers by the main gates, of a lone traveller heading in the direction of Hytbold. But it was a traveller that both Strider and his Rangers recognised, even if she hadn’t known exactly where their Rohan base was. “Eruingil.”

#storiedocs :: eruingil #~/ to wander the wild is all i ever wanted \~ :: aragorn/strider #she'll get that nap :)#*|* find the man you are/ meant to be *|* :: dúnedain chieftain #*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won #*|* there's light at the end of the tunnel | you just need to find it *|* :: hytbold #got lost along the old forest road :: queue

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rangers-arecool · 10 months ago

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Verses for: Hal

Always welcome to ask if you'd like poke at a particular personal verse.

Personal verses

Main

AU

Crossovers

Shared verses (below the cut)

Main

AU

This will probably be added to later.

#~/ i will always answer the call \~ :: hal #verses

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amid-ice-and-snow · 1 year ago

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Verses & Tags

Always welcome to ask if you'd like to poke at a particular personal verse. I will also be adding to this later.

Verses Information Crossed between: Elrohir stays behind & becoming a parent | here

Shared verses

AU #*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won #*|* being empathic doesn't mean you are weak *|* :: sentinel/guide

#~/ twins are one soul in two bodies \~ :: elrohir #elrohir's verses

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rangers-are-cool-moved · 2 years ago

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AU verse

Verse: The Last Alliance failed & Sauron won

I haven’t fully worked this out so bare with me :)

Main idea: After the Last Alliance fails to defeat Sauron the first time, a low lying almost mist-like darkness has covered Middle-Earth as it enters the Third Age. Light from the Sun and Moon are dimmed due to the darkness, cracks and crevasses form in lands that were once stable and fear reigns.

Lothlorien and Imladris have become beacons of light more than ever, while Mirkwood is destroyed, with Thranduil losing his life to protect his people and leaving Legolas in charge.

Bree and the Shire are protected by Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, while the Hobbits help the Rangers with food for the refugees.

Most of Rohan has been razed to the ground while Fangorn Forest and the Ents aid the survivors as much as they can. Gondor stands on the brink of disaster due to their proximity to Mordor.

Erebor and the Iron Hills are the main strongholds for the Dwarves, although they do try to assist the folk living around them survive. Without caring if they are Mortal or Elf.

The Rangers of the North continue to help and protect where they can. As rumours fly about one of their number, who has seemingly followed in his father’s footsteps and abandoned the Dunedain for the dark side. Unknown to all but his kin, Hal is on a dangerous long term mission as he has gone undercover in Carn Dum, Angmar.

#*|* when the light fades away *|* :: sauron has won verse #~/ i will always answer the call \~ :: hal #tw: violence #dark verse #let me know if #you would like to be tagged #reposting this or i'll confuse myself

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