#Arwens dream lore

[distortionswife]

I made Helen laugh in a dream because I asked her if Daisy barks

She asked why I thought that and I said “well, the hunt is basically wolf like avatar esc people, right?”

And she asked how I knew she was connected to the Hunt

And I told her to walk up to Daisy, and she'll see why.

So she did and Daisy growled at her, she was already in a pissed off mood and it's honestly very funny to me

But it made Helen cackle and I see what as a win.

[silalcarin]

The many parallels between Aragorn/Arwen and Cloti

(Preface: before I start, I want to point out that I've already touched upon the first two paragraphs of this post, in more detail, in my previous post from last week.)

So, my bestie and I were watching The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Extended Edition), and it got to the part where Aragorn rejected Eowyn because she wasn't actually in love with him. My bestie is more well-versed in LOTR Lore than I am, so she surprised me when she said that if you look at the book's timeline, Eowyn "knew" Aragorn for only 6 days at most before she confessed that she "loves" him, then he rejected her because she was actually Loving a Shadow.

I had to look this up for myself, because I haven't read The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit in years. Sure enough, Eowyn meets Aragorn in Third Age 3019, March 2nd, and on March 8th, literally 6 days later, before Aragorn departs for the Paths of the Dead, Eowyn confesses that she "loves" him, and he rejects her. Also in the book's timeline, by the time Aragorn met Eowyn, he and Arwen had been betrothed for 39 years. And Aragorn and Arwen have known each other for 44 years before Eowyn was even born. Heck, Aragorn and Arwen have known each other for 10 years before even Eowyn's father was born.

This is almost exactly like Final Fantasy VII. Cloud and Tifa grew up together and were very close as young children, as confirmed in Trace of Two Pasts. They've known each other for literally their whole lives (20 years, due to the 1-year age difference), and they've been in love with each other for over 7 years by the time they met Aerith, whom they knew for only 3 weeks at most before:

Aerith literally trapped Cloud in her dream world where Zack and Tifa don't exist and she manipulated Cloud into going on one last "date" with her (a.k.a. the infamous nightmare date/funeral date) — which was actually a recreation of Aerith's date with Zack in Crisis Core and which, like literally every other "date" Aerith has claimed to go on with Cloud, Cloud never actually agreed to go on this one last "date" with Aerith because Aerith physically stopped Cloud from angrily protesting against her; in other words, Aerith forced Cloud to go on one last "date" with her without his consent — and Cloud was visibly miserable and uncomfortable throughout its entire duration, and Aerith struggled to confess that she didn't know what type of "like" she feels for Cloud, only for Cloud to respond to Aerith's confession by calling her weird (twice in Japanese) with zero hesitation — per Trace of Two Pasts, after Elmyra adopted Aerith, Aerith's ability as a Cetra to talk to people through the Lifestream led to a lot of misunderstandings with the people around her and, as a result, she assumed that people thought she was weird, so she hated being seen or thought of as weird and wanted to be normal, but in Crisis Core, Zack made Aerith feel better about her thinking of herself as weird by telling her "normal is overrated" — thus Aerith realizes that, by calling her weird, Cloud rejected her and she finally understands that Cloud does NOT like nor love her, and

Aerith was killed later on the exact same day as the infamous nightmare date/funeral date.

I honestly wonder if Kazushige Nojima, the head writer of FFVII, took some inspiration from LOTR, because there are many parallels between Aragorn/Arwen and Cloud/Tifa:

(1) Aragorn is the hero (with Frodo and Sam) of LOTR.

Cloud is the hero of FFVII.

(2) Aragorn grew up in Arwen's home, Rivendell.

Cloud and Tifa grew up together in Nibelheim.

(3) Aragorn was very young when his father, Arathorn, was killed by Orcs. He was raised by his mother, Gilraen, until he left her in Rivendell to become a Ranger in the wild. During his time as a Ranger, Aragorn concealed his name and identity. Gilraen didn't hear much from Aragorn after his departure. They were reunited when he returned to Rivendell several years later, shortly before her death.

Cloud was very young when his father was possibly killed by a monster. He was raised by his mother, Claudia, until he left her in Nibelheim to become a SOLDIER. During his time as a Shinra infantryman, Cloud concealed his name and identity. Claudia didn't hear much from Cloud after his departure. They were reunited when he returned to Nibelheim several years later, shortly before her murder.

(4) Arwen lost her mother, Celebrian, after she was tormented by Orcs and her poisoned wound never healed, so she departed to the Undying Lands.

Tifa lost her mother, Thea, after she became struck with an unknown illness and she was never healed of it, so she died sometime afterwards.

(5) Arwen is Aragorn's beautiful light-skinned dark-haired future wife whom he's known for several decades.

Tifa is Cloud's beautiful light-skinned dark-haired future life partner whom he's known since they were toddlers.

[Side Note: per a discussion I had with one of my friends, Tifa is physically based on her Japanese voice actress, Ayumi Ito (as confirmed in the Advent Children Reunion Files), and Tetsuya Nomura stated that Tifa has Asian features and cuteness in this 2019 Famitsu article. However, in the actual games, Tifa is just as fair-skinned as Aerith, and there's no visible difference between their skin tones. Per my friend, who suggested either "fair" or "light", I decided to go with "light".]

(6) Lord Elrond, Arwen's father, disapproved of her and Aragorn's relationship, but that never deterred their love for each other.

Brian Lockhart, Tifa's father, disapproved of her and Cloud's relationship, but that never deterred their love for each other.

(7) Arwen is the sole source of inspiration and motivation for Aragorn, who must become King of Arnor and Gondor before Elrond allows her to marry him.

Tifa is the sole source of inspiration and motivation for Cloud, who felt that he must become a SOLDIER and a hero before he becomes special to her.

(8) Aragorn fell in love with Arwen first. Many years later, Arwen reciprocated Aragorn's love.

Cloud fell in love with Tifa first. Many years later, Tifa reciprocated Cloud's love.

(9) Aragorn/Arwen became betrothed on Cerin Amroth in Lothlorien (her second home), many years before Eowyn briefly came into his life and tried to come in between them, despite her knowing full well that Aragorn is in love with another woman, before Aragorn rejected Eowyn 6 days after meeting her and she was Loving a Shadow.

Cloud/Tifa made their promise on the water tower, a popular date spot in Nibelheim, where Tifa realizes she's in love with Cloud and wants to spend the rest of her life with him (as confirmed in Trace of Two Pasts), and Cloud holds on to that promise several months later as he travels to Midgar to become a SOLDIER for Tifa (as confirmed in 2000 Gil to Becoming a Hero), many years before Aerith briefly came into their lives and tried to come in between them, despite her knowing full well that Cloud and Tifa are in love with each other, before Cloud rejected Aerith 3 weeks after meeting her and she was Loving a Shadow.

(10) Aragorn is loyal to Arwen. Aragorn is deeply in love with Arwen, his only love interest. Due to his deep love for Arwen and his loyalty to her, Aragorn is never tempted by Eowyn, whom he knew for only 6 days.

Cloud is loyal to Tifa (as confirmed in a 2022 video on FFVII's official TikTok account**). Cloud is deeply in love with Tifa, his only love interest. Due to his deep love for Tifa and his loyalty to her, Cloud is never tempted by Aerith, whom he knew for only 3 weeks.

(11) During their marriage, Aragorn and Arwen have a son, Eldarion, and also at least two daughters, who are younger than their son.

During their relationship, Cloud and Tifa have an adopted son, Denzel, and also take care of Marlene, who is younger than their son.

I'm aware that the similarities between Aragorn/Arwen and Cloud/Tifa aren't perfect, but there's still enough there that I just can't help but have a feeling about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

** Link to the official TikTok video: https://www.tiktok.com/@finalfantasyvii/video/7137687150564314374

** Here's an alternate link: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTYpmaB8a/

Here's a screenshot of it, in case you still can't view the TikTok video for some reason:

[buffyfan145]

Fans noticed that etched into the cliff ruins where Haladriel fought was a design that resembled Arwen's Evenstar necklace from the LOTR movies. Obviously, this is another Aragorn/Arwen and Sauron/Galadriel parallel: Arwen gave her namesake necklace to Aragorn as a pledge to bind herself to him in love and mortality. Gal also told Halbrand to "bind" himself to her in S1, and in S2, he used Morgoth's crown to symbolically marrying/bind them tighter together. I also think the inclusion of the Evenstar design fits into the Half-Maia Celebrian Theory. I have never heard any canon lore about how Arwen got her famous necklace or why it was considered so special among the elves? Who forged it and why? Well, what about if was Sauron that was it's creator, and it was originally a present for his secret daughter, Celebrian? The silver design and white gemstone is similar to Nenya and would fit Celebrian's status as the "Silver Queen." I also think it passed from mother to daughter prior to Celebrian leaving ME. Arwen always wore it in remembrance of her mother, but chose to give it to the mortal king she loved. I just think it fits, especially since Arwen has some resemblance to Sauron's 2nd Age forms, and seemed to be able to control dreams and illusions like him.

I did see a post a couple weeks ago showing what looks like the Evenstar image on that rock. 😀 That is really cool if it is supposed to be that and a shoutout to Arwen, Aragorn, and the movies even though the show and the movies aren't connected (and now owned by rival production studios). From what I've seen too the Evenstar necklace was fully created for the movies and it takes the place of the Elfstone, which was a green broach and Galadriel's originally after she got it (some versions it was made in Gondolin in the 1st Age) from Gandalf who somehow got ahold of it, and she gave it to Celebrian, who then gave it to Arwen and she gives it Aragorn. Some fans think the movies changed it to Evenstar to tie it to Elrond's family and what happened to his parents and the Gondolin connection. There's also a star like white gem necklace Arwen wears in the books that she gives to Frodo too. So that's at least 2 pieces of jewelry Arwen has that can fully go along with your theory, one green and one white which seems to be the colors Galadriel wears most on the show and the books/movies.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

I wish I had tumblr back in 2001, when the Lord of The Rings Trilogy came out.

I would have fangirled and hyperfixated the hell out of everything.

Seriously.

The amount of stuff I collected, THE VISCERAL DESIRE to be able to sew so that I could make myself all of Eowyn’s dresses (dear gods, the Green one, the ShieldMaiden one and the Starry Mantle, the one that she wears in the House of Healing. Like, that scene with Faramir in the Extended Edition is STILL my fave to date. IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT FARAMIR AND EOWYN, AND WE SHIP THEM TO THE MOON AND BACK. ***TO THE MOON AND BACK, I SAID.***) and the and a few of Arwen too (gods, I am still dreaming of her Chase Dress, her Mourning Dress, The Requiem one and the Blood Red one. Still doodle them ever so often in some variations because omg those sleeves. those freaking sleeves. and the colours. they were PERFECTION for Baby Nemo who was starting to discover her passion for costume designing)

Like, THE HOURS I spent watching the behind the scenes on the Extended Editions and just MARVELING at Weta’s work on the armours and weapons (dear gods, all the sketches by Daniel Falconer, so intricate and yet clear. Like, Gil Galad’s crown and his spear Aeglos....am still feeling all warm and fuzzy inside each time I look at the sketches) and Ngila Dickson costume design for all the characters, how she managed to create a specific vibe and “lore” for each character, that rendered them IMMEDIATELY recognizible (tho, I am still not agreeing completely with Arwen’s Coronation dress. Like, THE CROWN IS SPECTACULAR, and the gown is so insanely beautiful, I cannot even,  but the colour of the gown itself is...mmmm....not truly my fave? I understand why they went for the soft green, reconnecting it to Spring and Rebirth, and I absolutely agree that after three movies of Arwen wearing clothes that were so closely tied to her mourning, she needed something pastel and ethereal to signifiy the fact that she had chosen Aragorn and a mortal life. I just don’t particularly love THAT shade of green with HER colouring, but again, this is just my personal opinion, and the gown is still INCREDIBLY beautiful regardless).

AND THE MUSIC????? LIKE, HOWARD SHORE, SIR. YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO KEEP ME AWAKE SO MANY NIGHTS WITH “EVENSTAR”, SITTING ON MY BALCONY AND CRYING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE I WAS SO ALONE, AND SO HOPELESS THAT I WOULD NEVER FIND LOVE IN THIS LIFE???? And please, do not let me start on the CHARACTERS per se.

I could write thousands of words just to express the utmost love I have for Boromir and Faramir, for Eowyn and Eomer, for dearest Samwise who never gave up on Frodo, for Elrond and Celebrian, for Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

Like.

I could really be here all day, and the serotonine from it all would be IMMENSE. All this to say that if you have been around here for the last two years, you have seen the way I become when I get immersed into a world that manages to snuggle itself into my heart, be it game/movie/tvseries/book.

When I was younger, this world was the one portrayed in The Lord of The Rings, and both books and movies had such immense hold on me, such huge impact, it’s safe to say that they were a huge part of the reason I am the way I am today, both in artworking, writing the things I write (the TROPES I WRITE) and creating characters and worlds and how they all interconnects with one another.

Gods, I need to do another rewatch now. And I need to write more about this all, in any kind form I can. I need to. 

Well, thank you for reading this. <3

Let me leave you with a gif of my two lovebirds being ABSOLUTELY gorgeous and soft and omg I am going to cry for how much they mean to me.

-Nemo

[arofili]

the line of elros ❖ stewards of gondor ❖ headcanon disclaimer

          Faramir was the younger son of Denethor II, and was the last Ruling Steward of Gondor. His father loved him less than his brother Boromir, for though they were alike in many ways, Faramir listened to the advice of the wizard Mithrandir whom Denethor distrusted. It was Faramir who first received dreams of Imladris and Isildur’s Bane, but Denethor chose to send Boromir to discover what the dreams meant while Faramir was ordered to Ithilien as a Ranger of the South.           There he encountered the hobbits Frodo and Sam on their journey to Mordor to destroy the One Ring. To them he revealed the death of Boromir, of which the hobbits had not known, and showed great strength of will in refusing the Ring in contrast to his brother’s fall. As the hobbits continued on their journey, Faramir returned to Osgiliath, failing to hold its defenses as had Boromir. He was struck down by the Witch-king of Angmar’s Black Breath, and was saved only by his uncle Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth.           Faramir was rendered unconscious and near to death for the remainder of the War of the Ring. His father went mad and attempted to burn them both on a pyre in Minas Tirith, but Faramir was saved by Mithrandir and the guard Beregond, though Denethor perished. He was then taken to the Houses of Healing, where he was healed by Aragorn after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields was won. He spent the rest of the War recovering in the Houses of Healing, where he met Éowyn of Rohan, another grievously wounded patient. They fell in love, and were married after the War.           Showing a humility his father never possessed, Faramir led the coronation of Aragorn as King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, surrendering his position as Ruling Steward. Aragorn reinstated the original role of the Stewards and returned the title to Faramir, also creating him as the Prince of Ithilien.           Faramir and Éowyn settled in Ithilien, and he inherited his ancestral title of Lord of Emyn Arnen. Together he and Éowyn had two children, Elboron and Rohiril. Elboron, a scholar and writer, was very dear to Aragorn’s son Prince Eldarion, and never married; Rohiril wed one of her father’s knights, Silevegil, and bore them a son. This child, Barahir, would eventually inherit his uncle Elboron’s title and passion for lore, writing the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen which survived in an abridged form through the ages in the Thain’s Book.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Fanfic for @tolkiengenweek!

Title: The Castaway

Works Referenced: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion

Characters: Legolas, Gimli, Maglor

The small grey boat sat completed on the shoreline, and the last of the supplies were being packed for the next morning’s expected voyage, when Legolas and Gimli looked up from their preparations to see a stranger on the beach. From his deeply-lined face and greying hair, Gimli might at first glance have thought him a Man of Gondor, were it not for the keenness of the eyes. 

Legolas’ hands went to his bow, and before Gimli could speak he had already notched an arrow and moved to stand between the stranger and the boat.

“Show your hands.”

The stranger held his hands out, palm up, and the right hand was curled and blackened to to second knuckle of the fingers, as though he had grasped a piece of metal new from the forge.

“Sit.”

The stranger sat in the sand, hands still held up in front of him.

Gimli at last found his voice. “Legolas, what are you doing? He is unarmed, he has offered us no threat, the Men of Minas Tirith assured us there were no evil things at the Mouths of Anduin - ”

“Evidently, the Men of Minas Tirith were mistaken.” Gimli had never heard such hate in Legolas’ voice, not even for Saruman or servants of the Enemy.  “I will explain. For the present, believe me when I say that this is such a threat as we have not faced since the War, and seldom during it. Now -“ returning his attention to the stranger - “how and why are you here, and why now, and for what purpose?”

The stranger spoke slowly and softly, his eyes fixed on the sand.

“A fortnight ago I was far to the south of here. In a dream, I saw the Mouths of Anduin, and a small grey boat, and two companions at a distance. I thought it only a dream, but it returned in the same form four nights more, and on the morn of the fifth day I saw a great flock of gulls flying north. I thought it might be a sign, though I have had none such since we left Valinor, and I came north to meet it. And here I find you. Am I right in thinking,” - he paused - “that you mean to leave these shores?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have come to ask - to beg - for you to take me with you.”

*****

Legolas had sent the stranger a little ways up the beach, so that the camp lay between him and the ship, before he turned to talk with Gimli.

“How much do you remember of the tales of the Elder Days told at Rivendell? Or at Erebor?”

“I know the tales of Beren and Lúthien and the Great Jewel, of Túrin the Doomed, of Nargothrond and Gondolin and the war against the Dark Enemy.” He also knew of the war of Doriath and Tumunzahar, but he suspected that Erebor and the Forest of Greenleaves had differing accounts.

“And of Fëanor?”

“The maker of the Jewels. His grandson was the Ring-maker deceived by Sauron, and a great friend of Khazad-dûm and of Dúrin the Deathless. His sign was on the doors of Khazad-dûm.”

Legolas narrowed his lips. “Yes. That is what many would remember, in these days. Some tales are too dark to tell lightly to outsiders, and too ill to tell for pleasure. The Elves remember, but few others care to, beyond the lore-masters. For our times are happier, at least in that we know our enemies from our friends.

“When the Dark Enemy slew the Lights that were before the Sun and Moon, and stole the Great Jewels, Fëanor and his sons swore to reclaim the Jewels and to slay any that possessed them, or else be doomed to Darkness Everlasting. To leave the Blessed Realm swiftly, they slew the greater part of my kin that lived there and stole their ships. In the long years when the Dark Enemy held the jewels, they never attacked him in his fortress, but when Beren and Lúthien freed the Jewel, and their son ruled as King of Doriath - ” Legolas paused and threw a hard look at the stranger. “They destroyed Doriath and slaughtered its people. They killed the King and Queen and their young sons, and when the King’s daughter escaped, they slew near all that remained of her people. But she was saved by the Lord of the Seas, and with her husband Eärendil the Mariner brought the Jewel into the West, and sought and received the aid of the Powers against the Enemy.”

“And what has this to do with our visitor?”

“He is Maglor, the last son of Fëanor. For his crimes he is barred from returning to the Blessed Realm; but he appears to be attempting it.”

“He seemed to think he had a sign from the Powers that it might be permitted.”

“The Fëanorians are liars, thieves, and murderers all. I trust him no more than I would an orc. While he is here, we keep a watch through the night. Keep an eye on him - and keep an eye on the boat!” *****

Legolas took the first watch, and woke Gimli at three in the morning. Maglor did not appear to have moved all night, nor was he sleeping; he remained seated silently, gazing out to sea. After an hour of boredom - he might as well have been watching a statue - Gimli approached the elf and sat down beside him. At the least, it seemed right for him to have a chance to speak for himself.

Gimli gave a small bow before seating himself. “Gimli son of Gloin, of Erebor and Aglarond.”

“Maglor Fëanorian. But your companion has told you that, and more.”

“Do you dispute any of it?”

The elf gave a faint shudder. “No.”

Maglor seemed thin, even for an elf, and wearier than any elf Gimli had ever seen. “Have you eaten?”

“A few fish, on the journey north.”

“Did you eat yesterday?”

“No.”

Gimli left him briefly to rummage through a pack at the camp. Lembas, a final gift from Queen Arwen of Gondor before her departure. He brought back a wafer with a mug of water and handed it to the elf. Maglor ate it slowly and with difficulty, as though it were cram rather than the much more savoury bread of the elves.

While Maglor ate, Gimli pondered, and fragments of old lays and legends came together in his mind, forming connections and the beginnings of an idea for taking the measure of this uncommunicative stranger.

"Do you know the tale of the Quest of Erebor?"

Maglor shook his head, still chewing.

Gimli told the tale, not as it was told on days of festival or winter gatherings in Dale and Erebor - dwarves did not criticize their kings lightly, or to outsiders - but as it was told by dwarven elders to youths, when they were old enough to think and consider and understand.  He told of Thorin's quest, for vengeance and for the treasure and kingdom of his forefathers; told of danger and daring and victory, of wrath and pride and dragon-sickness, of loss and of sorrow and renewal. And all the while he watched Maglor's expression closely.

He could read nothing clearly from the elf's face, though midway through the story he began tapping one finger lightly, as though keeping time with the rhythm of Gimli's account.  They sat in silence for a time once the story was ended, Maglor staring abstractedly into the distance, until at last he said, "I envy your king." His weariness seemed only to increase. "He fought with valour, and died at peace and in honour. It is more than many achieve."

The elf reached for a mug of water, but his hand passed right through it.  He tried again, and the same happened.  On the third attempt, he managed to pick it up in a solid hand.

Gimli shivered. This was too wraith-like for his liking. “Are you some manner of ghost or spirit?”

“Not yet.” Gimli gave him a questioning glance. “Given enough time, the spirit wears through the body. I am nearly there. If I remain much longer in Middle-earth, form will fade away; I will hear and see, but not taste or smell or touch; live in the world, but not act upon it.”

Gimli could scarcely think of a worse fate than being alive but unable to touch, to shape, to craft, to work. He was glad Mahal had had the wisdom to grant his people mortality.

The question had drawn Maglor's attention back to the journey before them. "I am sure you have more right to the journey than me, but may I ask how you come to be travelling to Valinor? I had not heard that mortals were permitted."

"There have been a few exceptions. I am not one of them, and cannot say I have been invited, as such. But Legolas is my dearest friend; the sea calls him, and I will not leave him, not so long as I have life. And even if mortals die swifter in Farthest West, as some say, still it would be worth many years of life to see the Lady Galadriel again."

Maglor started at the name. "You know her?"

"Aye; and count it one of the greatest fortunes of my life that have had the chance. Fairest and kindest and wisest of all whom I have known, with a dwarf's love for beauty and craftsmanship. Greatness without pride, and power without corruption. She cast down Dol Guldur in the war, where the old king Thrain was murdered; I wish I could have been there to see it!"

"Did she!" For the first time a smile flickered around Maglor's mouth. "She would have enjoyed that. I am glad one of us had victories, in the end."

"You know her?"

"Cousin Altáriel? We were never close. It has been long ages since I last saw her. But there is something to be said for shared exile, of a sort; the two in Middle-earth, since the Great War. I had not known she had been permitted to return. That is hopeful, at least; though our cases cannot be said to be alike."

Gimli's head was swimming. "Cousin?"

"Well - after a fashion. You have heard of my father," - with a rueful look - "and his half-brother, Galadriel's father, is king of the Noldor in the Blessed Realm."

It was exceedingly strange to think of the Lady as the child of someone still living, much less as the child of a king rather than a ruler in her own right. Gimli forced his thoughts back to relevant questions.

"You swore an oath to regain the Jewels. That Jewel, by the old legends." He gestured at the greying horizon. "Do you still intend to pursue it, if you return to Valinor?"

"I cannot." The elf's eyes went to his blighted hand. "I could not hold it, if I did. Nor would I seek to. I have lost all right to it. Let those that hold it keep it." His voice sank below a whisper. "As weregild, at least."

*****

"You spoke to him?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"You never forbade me to do so."

"I told you that he was dangerous! I told you that he could not be trusted! I would think the implication was obvious!"

"Well, whatever he was in the past, I cannot think he is dangerous now.  He is old, and he is tired, and and he is sorry."

"And you can understand him this well from one night's conversation! When you had not even heard of him before yesterday!"

"It is more than I would have understood otherwise. Why are you so afraid of me speaking to him? Or hearing and seeing some account of him other than your own? You did not mention that he was close kin to the Lady Galadriel!"

"If you think she would wish to see him again, you are mistaken.  Very much the reverse. The people he murdered were her kinsfolk as well as mine.  And if you would trust him over me so readily, that should give reason enough for why it is perilous to speak with him unwarily. Do you remember what Gandalf said to us of Saruman at Orthanc? Beware his voice. Not all power is in weapons."

"He is an elf like you, not a wizard - "

"He is not like me. In powers I am no more like him than the innkeeper in Bree is like Aragorn - or rather, like Ar-Pharazon! The elves of the First Age had strange powers, and yes, some of them were equal or greater in power than the wizards we have known. You will remember that Felagund himself fought alone against Sauron. This elf is known about all for the power of his music and his voice, and I have no wish to test it!"

"I assure you that I am not enchanted! It is not as though Saruman had any effect on me, beyond annoyance at his lies. Even if you were right about him, why would Maglor be any different?"

"Saruman was seeking to daunt us; and you are too brave and too stubborn for that.  But he got to Fangorn in the end, and Fangorn is no fool; and convinced him not through threats or temptations, but through pity. The kinslayer knows he has nothing to offer you or threaten you with, but if he can play upon compassion and seek to drive you to distrust me - "

"He did not. He denied nothing that you said, and he did not mention Galadriel until I had done so. Is it so impossible that he is sincere?"

"You do not understand the Fëanorians. Even grief and regret can be deceptive. Of all Maglor's works, the most famed is the one he wrote of the First Kinslaying, a song of sorrow and regrets.  It did not hold him back from slaying kin a second time, or a third, or making war against the Valar themselves. So his protestations of regret can mean little now.  Whether he is dissembling, or whether he means them truly, they have never stopped him before."

"He is dying. Or what passes for it among elves. Can you ask me to go to the West and tell the Lady Galadriel that I abandoned her kinsman to die?"

"He has more than earned it."

"So had Gollum. So had Saruman, when Gandalf and the Lady Galadriel both offered him mercy. Legolas, you say you fear I am bewitched, but it is you who do not sound like yourself.  You hate him so bitterly, you would leave him to die, for deed committed ten generations or more before my grandsires, in a past so distant it is scarcely memory?"

Legolas went taut, and his eyes flashed with rage. "The memories of mortals are short! His deeds live in the memory of my father, and my mother, and their fathers and mothers, who dwelt in Doriath when he attacked it and lost friends and family and home to his and his brothers' blades! No one is asking you to show pity for Azog! No one is asking you to invite Smaug into your family's home and last refuge!"

The words hit Gimli as a blow. He had to admit that he would never have spoken to another dwarf as he had spoken to Legolas. Dwarves had fought long and bitter wars over the death of their kings; not only against Smaug, but against the Orcs of Khazad-dûm and the cold-drakes of the north. And though Dúrin’s folk had never warred among themselves, other dwarven lineages had had long and bitter clan-wars over generations. If he had tried to tell another dwarf it was his duty save a bitter personal enemy, when there was blood between them, the conversation would quickly have come to ax-blows.

His opinion of the aged elf had not altered, and he had no wish to leave him behind; but it was not Gimli’s choice to make.

“You are right. I cannot understand what he has done to your people, and to your family. I have no quarrel with him, and so I have have not the right to pardon him. You are my friend; I trust your judgement and your wisdom; and the choice rightfully belongs to you.  Whatever you choose, I will go with you.”

*****

Legolas spent the afternoon in thought.

What were his reasons for refusing passage to Maglor? Certainly, Legolas hated the elf, but that alone was merely a sentiment, not a reason to condemn another person to death.

He is a murderer, and a threat, and his pretences to remorse cannot be trusted. He has killed, and repented; and killed, and repented; and killed, and repented; and so his repentance is meaningless. Should we bring danger and evil again into the one place in Eä free of it?

Even if all that was true, Maglor was only one elf. Could he reasonably be said to pose a danger to the Powers? If they considered him a threat, was there anything to stop them taking him prisoner immediately upon arrival? Even among the elves, Galadriel by herself was at least his equal, and there were likely others in the Blessed Realm as powerful as she or more so.

That argument, then, was weak.

He is barred from the Blessed Realm. He has chosen his own fate, and his own doom, and the scars on his hand proclaim it plainly. He cannot enter; and if we attempt to bring him, we may never find the path, or even be destroyed as the Númenoreans were when they defied the Powers’ judgements.

This argument was stronger. The judgement was not Legolas’, but that of the Valar, and one that Maglor had fully earned. Even the attempt to bring Gimli, a mortal and not a ring-bearer, depended on the Valars’ leniency; why try their patience further, for one to whom he owed nothing?

But did he know that Maglor was forbidden to return? Maglor felt he had been given a sign.

Maglor has proved time and time again that he cannot not be trusted. He might easily be lying, or deceiving himself.

But if he was not...

If he was not, Legolas was choosing to judge where the Valar had granted mercy.

There was no way to know. Either choice could be in error: to pardon where they had judged, or to judge where they had pardoned.

Legolas was not Galadriel, or one of the Elves of old. He had not spoken with the Valar; he knew of them only through distant and hazy legends.

And through their emissary. Mithrandir, who had urged pity for Gollum, pity that had saved them all. Who had offered mercy to Saruman, a traitor and orc-breeder far worse than Maglor. There could be little doubt what Mithrandir would have chosen.

And if there was risk to the choice, to Legolas and Gimli themselves, what of that? To abandon him to death for the sake of guarding their own lives was fear masquerading as justice.

It was cowardice.

So the second argument, too, failed.

But were either of these the true reason for Legolas’ refusal?

I am returning to Elvenhome, to all the generations of elves since the world began. I am returning to my kin, and perhaps my ancestors, and to all the people of Doriath. I cannot do so in the company of Maglor Fëanorian and a dwarf!

Legolas would be living among the elves of Eressëa and Aman, for the rest of his life. If he did this, he would alienate them from the start, and destroy the chances of his people ever accepting Gimli. It could scarcely offend more if it had been calculated to do so; it could not appear but as a deliberate insult, to arrive with the greatest enemies of Doriath by his side.

They were not the same.  They had nothing in common.  There was no more reason for anyone to blame Gimli for the actions of other dwarves two Ages ago than there was to blame Legolas for the deeds of Fëanor.  But the appearance of the thing could not help but have an effect; could not help but drawn connections; could not help but estrange him and Gimli alike from Legolas’ home and kin.

That was the true reason in his heart.

And acknowledged, it sounded ugly. Was he truly willing to condemn a person to death, or worse, merely to protect his own reputation? If he was too timid to bear disapproval or hostility for Maglor’s sake, would he also be too timid to bear it on Gimli’s account?

It was unacceptable. 

*****

In the evening, he spoke with Maglor.

“How can I have any assurance that you will not again bring violence to the Blessed Realm? If your oath still binds you, are you not a danger? And if it can be broken, what possible excuse could you give for not breaking it far sooner?”

Maglor answered the question as if he had been expecting it, but unsteadily, wavering from meeting Legolas’ eyes, to closing his own, to looking away at the sand or the sea. “We swore to pursue the Jewels, and we swore ourselves to the Darkness if we kept it not, and in keeping it we more than earned the Darkness. If I am condemned, I am condemned; more in the keeping than in the breaking; but I will pursue it no longer.”

“Why do you seek to return now, after so long? If you wished to seek pardon, surely there were others you could have asked, far earlier - at Mithlond, or at Imladris -”

Maglor gave a sharp shake of his head.

“You may as well call it cowardice, on both counts. I stayed away for long ages, for fear and for shame, of seeing any that I had known or letting them see what I had made of myself. I think I would have preferred death to mercy, but for fear, being in no hurry to meet the Darkness. And so I waited, and waited, and now I am out of time, and fear fading more than death or judgement. I cannot stay here, forever, to the end of the world, without any hope of asking mercy, without any chance of saying that I am sorry -”

“What do you expect, if you do return?”

“I do not know. I scarcely care. Let the Valar do with me as they will.”

It was difficult to disagree with Gimli’s reading of the old elf. More than anything, he seemed unutterably weary.

He is not harmless. He has killed hundreds, by his sword; thousands, by his commands.

And he is willing to answer for it.

And Legolas’ decision had, really, already been made.

“Come with us, then. We depart in the morning.”

Author’s Notes

I wrote this in a very fragmentary manner and I can’t say I’m entirely happy with it. But it’s going to nag at my mind until I post it, so it’s going up in its current state.

There are two main reasons I wanted to write this.

First, I wanted Maglor to be able to return to Valinor, and I felt it important that he be held answerable for his actions by someone affected by them. It’s something he chose not to do during all his years of exile - he could have turned himself in, to Círdan, to Thranduil, to Celeborn and Galadriel, and he didn’t, and by this point there are very few people left who would qualify. Legolas didn’t directly experience the Kinslayings, but his father and grandfather were Doriathrin so there’s a definite connection nonetheless. I think that Gimli’s conclusion, that Gimli has no right to grant mercy to Maglor because he has no grievance against him, is correct; pardon needs to be given by the wronged, or by someone with authority to judge.

Second, Legolas is, of all the Fellowship, the one who never faces any real trials and temptations during The Lord of the Rings. (Even Gimli has to vie with his terror of the Paths of the Dead.) The Ring is no temptation to him - he has no desire for power or glory or greatness. Neither battle nor the spirits of the Dead nor the road to Mordor seem to daunt him. So I wanted to create a story where he has to face temptation and overcome it and do a certain amount of soul-searching. And, as is the case with many people who haven’t had to face great trials, the strongest temptation is towards condemnation of those who have faced temptation and have failed.

So I’ve tried to balance those two somewhat conflicting ideas, the legitimacy of judgement and the moral necessity of mercy.

[mysterious-adventurer]

Nightbound Review

I literally just finished Nightbound (I know I'm late, I was on vacation) so I figured I'd do this little review type deal since this is literally my favorite choices story ever.

First of all my heart is broken, like I said this is my favorite choices book ever, I loved the characters, the plot, the setting, just everthing about it, and to find out we're not getting a book 2 crushed me. Especially when I still have sooo many questions. I like PB just forgot to fully adress for example:

1. What/Who was the mysterious voice that spoke to us in the first chapter? (The Fate maybe?)

2. Who paid Nik to protect us? ( I guess this could also be The Fate, but idk that just doesn't seem right)

3. If you're not romancing Nik, do you and him ever talk it out it out and become friends again or do just literally never talk to each other ever again?

4. If you stay in New Orleans where does Kristin go next in life? Does she stay in touch?

5. Also this isn't really and unadressed question but did anyone else who stayed in New Orleans with someone other than Vera get the vibe that something was going on between Vera and Luc?

6. Finally, what happens to Tialo after he's banished?(I'm honestly really curious about this, also he's now confined to the mortal world now so he could really come after us at any time right? Forgive me if I'm forgetting something pertaining to this)

Anyway moving on, I really can't understand how this book did not do well. It was packed with supernatural lore, action, four absolutely AMAZING love interests (choosing between Nik and Cal was sooo hard for me), and even a few fun lighthearted shenanigans. I can't exactly put my finger on what it is but there is just something about it that makes it soooooooooooooooo much better than any of PB's other books. I know this is an unpopular opinion, but I truly don't like Blood Bound that much, I played the first book and then started the second but I couldn't quite find the motivation to contine after maybe 3 chapters, idk I just don't love the characters or the plot, and I've always felt like the BB MC seems rather helpless. So when I found out that PB was making NB as an extension of the BB universe but with werewolves instead of vampire I got really excited at first bc WEREWOLVES, then remembered I didn't like BB that much so I braced myself for massive dissapointment, but it outlived even my first over-excited hopes for it. There are just so many reasons to love this book for example:

1.The begining~ I love the start of the book for it's mystery and how MC gets pulled into the supernatural world. The chapter starts off with premonitve dream sequence in which MC runs from the blood wraith in the cemetery and dies, then throughout the begining of the chapter she sees Nik several times, both before and after she's met up with Kristin and Vera for her 25th birthday party. From there it's as simple as trying to get into an exclusive club and then BOOM! wraith. I just really like how the opening was set up and how it drew me in.

2. The characters ~ I can honestly say that there was only one charcter in this book thatbI could truly say I didn't like (*cough* Tialo *cough) The villians in this story (minus Tialo) had such well developed back stories that you could even find yourself liking them a little bit too. The love interests in this story are just awesome all four of them are strong, brave, caring, and they wavh have their own personal demons to overcome along the way ( there is so much character growth in this book). Also I appreciate how Kristin was handled, even though she's not in the loop about the supernatural she never comes across as dumb or helpless, she shows charcter strength by bouncing back from her injuries and even getting out to go to Mardi Gras with MC and party. Not to mention how much I love Lord Elric, Lady Thalissa, and the fae realm but more on that later. This book also has an amazing cast of background characters (Ivy, Krom, Garrus, and Luc) that while they might not always be there they help as much as they can and they're amazingly fun characters.

The plot~ what I love about the plot of this book is that there are lots of twists and turns, however the story isn't hard to follow and the plot twists aren't massively predictable. With a lot of Choices books you see people making predictions 2 and 3 (sometimes even more) chapters ahead and then it turns out their right. With a few exceptions, most of the predictions I saw for this book weren't right, and the plot twists were genuinely unexpected.

The Fae Realm ~ I love the fae realm so much, and I love how it actually ties MC to the supernatural world by blood. Lord Elric is definitely the best father in the Choices universe, and Lady Thalissa is so sweet and I love her for accepting MC so quickly as her own daughter. Not to mention the Perrikin (default name was Cassie, I called mine Arwen if anyone was wondering) was adorable, helpful, and I feel like she was really comforting to MC when things got rough.

I know I didn't touch on everything in thise categories but if I did I'd probably have a small novel here lol. Now I will admit there are a few draw backs to this book, for example:

1. 30 diamond scenes ~ One of the major complaints I heard was that people were paying for 30 diamond scenes with the love interests for basically nothing to happen

2. Simplification of Lore~ this wasn't a problem with all of the Lore but I did notice that all of the fae seemed to be elves, which I didn't mind because I love elves, but fae is a category in supernatural lore for all kinds of creatures, which I know PB can't go into all of the lore details, but I'm sure it happend in other places too and as a lover of Supernatural lore I was a little disappointed.

All in all, despite its few flaws, Nightbound was definitely one of the best choices books ever. This book had so much potential, and it really is a shame to see it go to waste, but I guess we can always hope that PB might revive it someday.

[tipsycad147]

100+ Pagan or Witch names and their meanings

Posted by Michelle Gruben on Apr 11, 2019

Looking for the perfect Pagan or witch name? Check out our list of over 100 magickal names drawn from the realms of the occult. Whether it’s for yourself, an animal familiar, or a fictional character, have fun perusing these delightfully witchy monikers.

Christian names have usually honoured Biblical figures and saints, but Pagans prefer to name themselves after nature, folklore, and the gods of antiquity. Many names are drawn from ancient stories and are charged with mythic power. Some of the names on this list didn’t start out magickal, but got that way in modern times through association with famous witches. (This is admittedly a Eurocentric list, since my own background is in classical literature and Western magick. If you are the bearer of a witchy name from another tradition, I’d love to learn about it!)

Many witch names are unisex and others can be adapted to any gender. Creating compound names are one way that Pagans pay homage to sacred objects, spirits, and concepts (e.g., Raven Moonflower or Amethyst Dragonfyre). Try mixing and matching these first names with your favourite nouns and adjectives to create your very own Craft name.

Adelinda - A Germanic name meaning "noble serpent." A variation is Delinda.

Aine – “Radiance.” Queen of the fairies in Celtic lore.

Airlia – “Ethereal.”

Aislinn – “Dream or vision.” Irish female name.

Alcina – A Greek sorceress. Title character of an opera by Handel.

Alita – “Winged one.”

Althea – “Healer.”

Alvin/Alvina – “Elf.” Many "Al-" names related to elfkind, including Alfred/Alfreda ("elf counsel") and Albert ("bright elf" or "elf ruler").

Ambrosia/Ambrosius – “Food of the gods.”

Amethyst - Lovely purple stone, known to the ancients for bringing sobriety, wisdom, and protection, especially to travelers.

Angela - “Divine messenger.”

Aoelus – “Wind.”

Aradia – Legendary Italian Witch, one of the principal figures in Charles Godfrey Leland's 1899 work Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches.

Ariadne – “Most holy.” Mythical figure associated with mazes and labyrinths.

Ariel – A Biblical name meaning “Lion of God.” In Disney, a little mermaid. In Shakespeare, a shape-shifting spirit who aids the wizard Prospero. Also the name of the famous poem cycle by Sylvia Plath.

Artemis – Greek virgin goddess of the moon and wild animals.

Arwen – An elven princess in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Arwen is derived from Welsh and means “fine” or “fair.” A masculine form is Arwyn.

Asteria – “Star-like.” Variations include Aster, Astrid, and Astra.

Aura – “Wind,” in Greek. In metaphysics, the word refers to the energy field surrounding the body.

Avalon – Legendary final resting place of King Arthur. Also the setting of a series of fantasy novels by Marion Zimmer Bradley.

Awen – “Inspiration.” Symbol of the well of creativity and of the bardic arts.

Bran – Means “Raven” in several Celtic languages. A great historical name with connections to Welsh mythology and Arthurian legend.

Breena – “Faery place.” Variations: Brinna or Briana.

Brigid – Celtic goddess of the forge, healing, and poetry. Beloved in Ireland and around the world, variations of her name include Bridget, Brighid, and Bride.

Calypso – “Hidden.” A nymph who detained Odysseus for many years.

Cassandra – Ill-fated soothsayer of Troy. Cassandra incurred the displeasure of Apollo, who cursed her so that her prophecies would never be believed.

Cedar – An ancient tree associated with wisdom and protection.

Celeste – “Heavenly.”

Cerridwen – “Fair as the poem.” May also derive from the Celtic word for “cauldron.” A powerful enchantress of Welsh legend, identified with the Wiccan mother goddess.

Charon – As the boatman on the River Styx, Charon ferries souls across to the Underworld. The modern Greek equivalent is Haros.

Chimera – “Dream, phantasm.”

Circe – Greek demi-goddess or witch renowned for her knowledge of herbs and potions.

Corvus – Latin for “raven” or “crow.” A literate alternative to becoming yet another Raven.

Crystal – A name that became popular in the 1980s and 90s. (Witches love crystals!)

Delphine – “Woman from Delphi.” The Delphic oracles were priestesses of Apollo.

Devin – “Musical poet.” A Gaelic boy’s name, now unisex.

Diana – Roman name for the moon goddess, known in European lore as the “Queen of the Witches.”

Draco – “Dragon.” One famous bearer is Draco Malfoy of the Harry Potter series.

Eartha – “Earthly.” From Old English.

Endora – The magical mother-in-law in the TV sitcom Bewitched. Her name comes from the Biblical Witch of Endor who counseled King Saul.

Eris – Greek goddess of Chaos. Patron goddess of the Discordian magickal tradition.

Erzulie – A spirit (or family of spirits) in Vodou. She has many forms and rules over love, beauty, health, and sexual passion.

Fabula – “Legend.”

Faye – “Fairy.” From Old English/Old French. Also Fay, Fae, Faeryn, Fayette.

Fiamma - "Flame." This Italian word carries the same connotations as "flame" in English, meaning either a (literal) fire or a (figurative) lover.

Foster – “Forest guardian.” From Old English.

Freya – “Noble lady.” One of the most revered of the Norse deities.

Gaia – The personification of Earth, and one of the Greek primordial gods.

Glinda – “Fair” or “good.” The Good Witch of the South in the Oz novels of L. Frank Baum.

Gwydion – Master magician and trickster of Welsh lore. His name means “born of trees.” Famous bearers include the American witch and bard Gwydion Pendderwen (1946–1982).

Hazel – “Hazel tree.” Hazel branches are the traditional material for divining rods.

Hecate – Crossroads-dwelling goddess of witchcraft. Her name may mean either “power” or “far-reaching.” The Greek spelling is Hekate.

Hermione –  “Messenger.” A female name derived from Hermes. Popularized as a Witch name by the Harry Potter series, but also appropriate for a Hermetic magician.

Herne – “Horned.” The lord of wild things, identified with the Pagan Horned God.

Holly - This cheery girl's name is shared with one of the sacred trees of Celtic lore. A male or family name version is Hollis.

Isis - Mighty Egyptian goddess of magick and healing.

Jasmine – A delicate and aromatic flower known for its mystical and aphrodisiac properties. The name is Arabic in origin.

Jinx – “Trick” or “curse.”

Lamia – The Lamia is a child-devouring serpent or monster in Greek mythology. She was once a Libyan queen, but was cursed by Hera for her trysts with Zeus.

Larissa – A Greek sea nymph, also the name of an ancient city in Thessaly.

Leo – “Lion.” Also a sign of the zodiac.

Ligeia – “Shrill” or “whistling.” The name of one the Greek sirens, revived by Edgar Allan Poe in his short story by the same title.

Lilith – Adam’s first wife, according to Hebrew mythology. Lilith is associated with various night demons and flying goddesses.

Lorelei – Freshwater mermaid of the Rhine River. The Lorelei is a temptress who delights in the destruction of fishermen.

Lucia – A Latin name meaning “light”. The masculine form is Lucius.

Lucifer – A provocative name associated with the Christian devil. Lucifer means “light-bringer.”

Luna – “Moon.” Luna Lovegood is a minor character in the Harry Potter series.

Maeve – “Intoxicating.” An Irish warrior queen. Also related to Queen Mab, faery ruler of British folklore. Variations include Mab, Meave, Maeven.

Marisol – Beautiful Spanish name meaning “sea and sun.”

Medea – A Greek witch, the subject of a play by Euripides and a later opera. Medea was of divine descent and used sorcery to defeat her foes.

Melusine – A water spirit from French medieval folklore. Also written as Melusina.

Merlin – Legendary sorcerer of Old Britain.

Minerva - Roman name for the goddess of wisdom. A well-known bearer is Minerva McGonagall, the headmistress of Hogwarts in the Harry Potter series.

Miranda – “A marvel.” This name first appeared in Shakespeare’s The Tempest.

Morgan – Morgan le Fay is a (usually) adversarial figure in the Arthurian legends. Variations include Morgaine or Morgana. A similar-sounding name belongs to Celtic warrior goddess Morrighan.

Morpheus – “Shaper.” Greek god of sleep and dreams.

Nerissa – “Of the sea.” From Shakespeare.

Neve – “Bright.” An Anglicized version of the Irish name Niamh.

Nissa – A Scandinavian name for a brownie, sprite, or friendly elf.

Oberon – “Elf ruler.” A Faery king in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  Famous bearers include Oberon Zell (b. 1942).

Ondine – “Mermaid or “Water spirit.”

Orion – A prominent constellation named for the hunter from Greek mythology. One notable Orion is author Orion Foxwood.

Pagan – “Country-dweller.” The most straightforward Pagan name there is.

Petra – “Stone.”

Peregrine – “Traveler, foreigner, pilgrim.”

Phoenix – Mythical bird that would incinerate itself every 500 years (by most accounts), then rise from the ashes.

Puck – A mischievous forest spirit in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Origin of the adjective “puckish.”

Pythia – One of the traditional titles of the Oracle of Delphi. The Pythia was originally a serpent monster defeated by Apollo.

Raven – One of the most widely-used Pagan/witch names, in various spellings and combinations. Ravens are associated with death, cunning, and secret knowledge.

Rhiannon – Welsh goddess associated with horses. Made popular as a witchy name by the Fleetwood Mac song “Rhiannon.”

Rosemary – “Dew of the sea.” The name refers to the small blue flowers that appear on Rosemary bushes.

Rowan – “Red-haired.” A unisex Celtic name shared with the mystical Rowan tree.

Rowena – A Germanic name, possible derived from the words for “fame” and “joy.” Another name revitalized by the Harry Potter series.

Sabrina – Latin place-name meaning “from Cyprus” or “from the river Severne.” Teenage witch of comics and television.

Sage – “Wise redeemer.” Also a widely-used herb in witchcraft.

Salem – Historic Massachusetts city known for its 17th-century witchcraft trials. The feline familiar of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.

Samantha – In Hebrew it means something like, “God heard” or “told by God.” In Greek, it may mean “flower.” Samantha owes its witchy cred to Samantha Stevens, the protagonist of the TV sitcom Bewitched.

Sedona – A town in Arizon famed for its energy vortexes, n­­ow a thriving New Age community. This pretty name has no known meaning and was probably invented by an early settler in the area.

Selene – Greek goddess of the moon. A variation is Selena, and belongs to Pagan elder Selena Fox.

Shadow – A spirit, ghost, or illusion.

Shasta – An active volcano in California, renowned as a spiritual pilgrimage site.

Shayla – “From the faery place.” Many spellings and variations.

Silver -  A magickal metal, sacred to the Moon. Famous bearers include author Silver Ravenwolf.

Sirena – “Mermaid.”

Sirius – “Glowing, burning.” Also known as the Dog Star, Sirius is the brightest star in Earth’s night sky.

Sophia – “Wisdom.”

Stella - "Star." Variations include Estelle and Estrella.

Strega – “Witch” in Italian.

Sybil – “Prophetess” or “Divine counsel.” This name, from ancient Greek, also belonged to the famous English witch Sybil Leek (1917-1982).

Sylvia – “Of the forest.”

Tanith – Phoenician moon goddess whose name means "serpent lady." Famous Taniths include science fiction and fantasy writer Tanith Lee (1947 – 2015).

Tara – In Irish, a rocky hill. In Sanskrit, a star.

Thurston – “Thor’s stone.”

Titania – “Great one.” The queen of the fairies in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Variations include Tatiana and Tanya.

Umbra – “Shadow, ghost.”

Urania – “Heavenly" or  "daughter of the Sky.” An epithet of Aphrodite and Isis.

Vera – “Truth”

Vernon – “Alder tree.”

Vesta – Roman hearth goddess. Priestesses of Vesta tended the sacred flame in her temples.

Willow – “Willow tree.” Willow is a popular witch character in the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Zephyr – “West wind.”

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/100-pagan-or-witch-names-and-their-meanings

[moderncolors]

The Ultimate List of Alternative Baby Names { bohemian, hippie, offbeat, fantasy, goth baby names} So you've got a wee one on the way and you're looking for a name as unique as your new baby is going to be, am I right? Well, check out this great list of offbeat names for I've created just for creative moms and dads-to-be like you. A lot of these names are form lists I made when thinking of names for my two tots and some inspired by my favorite celebrity kid names and some are from the top of my head.  Yes, some of these names are "out there" and I've gotten a lot of hateful comments about this post (that's why comments are disabled) but what do you expect from a post called THE ULTIMATE LIST OF ALTERNATIVE BABY NAMES? If you like the names. Awesome! If you don't, that's cool too. To each his own! NOTE: I didn't separate the names by gender as many of these can work for both boys and girls! Last updated 9/28/18 ▲BOHEMIAN & ARTSY▲ Arlo, Allegra, Alto, Ariel, Art, August, Avery, Beau, Bell/Belle, Blue, Burgundy, Cass/ Cassy, Cobalt, Cosette, Cruz, Dali, Dancer, Delia, Delilah, Donatello, Early, Eartha, Flannery, Frida, Golden, Harper, Haven, Hawthorne, Hendrix, Henna, Holden, Holiday, Honor, Hugo, Indigo, Isa, Jazz, Kahlo, Kodak, Langston, Lazareth, Legend, Lennon, Leonardo, Limerick, Lyric, Magenta, Mandala, Mandolin, Marlowe, Merlot, Michelangelo, Monet, Muse, Orlando, Paloma, Pen, Picasso, Piper, Poem, Quinn, Raphael, Red, Rigby, Ringo, Royal, Rufus, Shakespeare, Sonata, Sonnet, Story, Symphony, Tango, Tempo, True/Tru, Truman, Tuesday, Uma, Vellum, Vin/Vino, Xuxa (Shusha),Yoko, Zora  amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "e98f453f5cf9b08a37caad8372b2923c"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07HR5SS5B,B079H2V79B,B07GZPGJYW,B072TY48WK,B00OVJJUFM"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲COSMIC▲ Aries, Callisto, Cassiopeia, Celeste, Celestial, Cloud, Comet, Constellation, Cosmic, Cosmo/Cosmos, Earth, Eclipse, Elara, Jupiter, Libra, Luna/Lunar, Mars, Mercury, Moon, Nebula, Nova, Orion, Pluto, Sirius, Solar, Star, Starbright, Stardust, Starlight, Starshine, Vega, Venus amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00XQKJGVA,B07FDXY48N,B01DU228AO,B07J1CF5JW"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; ▲DESTINATIONS & TRAVEL▲ Africa, America, Asia, Austin, Brooklyn, China, Cairo, Columbia, Dakota, Dallas, Denver, East, Egypt, England, Everest, Geneva, Georgia, Germany, Holland, India, Ireland, Israel, Jordan, Journey, Kenya, London, Morocco, Nazareth, Nevada, Niagara, North, Paris, Odessa, Orient, Peru, Rome/Roman, Russia, Scotland, South, Traveler, Venice, Vienna, Wander, West, Zion, Zanzibar amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B01ASVCW6K,B00408AA9O,B07KK5DSYF,B07JH8LKPR"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲FANTASY, MYTHOLOGY & SCI-FI▲ Amidala, Anakin, Apollo, Aragorn, Aries, Arwen, Artemis, Aslan, Athena, Atlas, Avalon, Dalek, Data, Elron, Elvin, Eros, Fairy/Faery, Faramir, Freya,  Geordi, Gimli, Gulliver, Hera, Hermione, Isis, Jareth, Járnsaxa, Jean-Luc, Jedi, Lando, Leia, Merry, Odin, Oz, Padme, Pan, Persephone, Philomena, Phoenix, Pippen, Pixie, Samwise, Sisko, Sirius, Solo, Sprite, Sulu, Tardis, Thor, Titan, Trillian, Troy, Venus, Xavier, Zeus amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B075FC488Z,B071Y215TY,B075K5S2DR,B07CG4P4VJ"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲GOTHIC▲ Alabaster, Armand, Ash, Belladonna, Blade, Blaze, Chalice, Cinder, Crimson, Damien, Dante, Draegan, Draven, Echo, Eclipse, Edge, Ember, Enigma, Essence, Eternity, Flame, Gabriel, Garnet, Gossamer, Gotham, Granite, Grimm, Hamlet, Illusion, Jet, Labyrinth, Lace, Lazarus, Lenore, Lestat, Loki, Lore, Lucretia, Maleficent, Maze, Memory, Midnight, Mist, Moonlight, Morrow, Morticia, Mystery, Nightshade, Noir, Obsidian,Onyx, Ophelia, Pandora, Panther, Poe, Porcelain, Prism, Rain, Rapture, Raven, Razor, Requiem, Rogue, Rosary, Sabre, Salem, Satin, Scarlet, Seraphim, Shade, Shadow, Steel, Stone, Storm, Talon, Thorne, Twilight, Veil, Velvet, Winter, Wolf, Zane amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B01MF8K902,B00I3Q5A4E,B00MMJR8KW,B00NYIADBG"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲HIPPIE▲ Breeze, Buzz, Chakra, Cheer, Cherish, Cosmic, Crystal, Dancer, Dawn, Daydream, Deja, Desert, Destiny, Dharma, Dream/Dreamer, Earth/Eartha, Echo, Feather, Flight, Flow, Flower, Free, Freedom, Grace, Gypsy, Harmony, Heart, Honesty, Hope, Janis, Joplin, Journey, Joy, June, Justice, Karma, Kind, Lennon, Liberty, Light, Lily, Love, Marley, Meadow, Melody, Mild, Misty, Morning, Om, Paisley, Patchouli, Peace, Peaceful, Promise, Rain, Rainbow, Serenity, Smile, Soulful, Spirit, Sunny, Sunshine, Windsong, Yogi, Zen, Zest, Ziggy amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B079LRGX9M,B079LNJFGS,B01FH6MRMU,B00IWTF4N4"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = ""; ▲NATURE▲ Almond, Apple, Aspen, Barley, Basil, Bay, Berry, Blossom, Canyon, Cayenne, Cedar (my daughter's name!),Cherry, Cinnamon, Clay, Clove, Clover, Coriander, Cove, Cypress, Daisy, Dayspring, Desert, Ebony, Fern, Fig, Flint, Flower, Forest, Ginger, Heather, Herb, Hill, Holly, Honey, Iris, Ivory, Ivy, Jasmine, Juniper, Kale, Land, Lavender, Leaf, Lilac, Lily, Linden, Lotus, Magnolia, Mango, Maple, Marigold, Meadow, Moss, Navy, Nest, Oak/Oakley, Olive, Parsley, Peach, Petal, Plum, Poppy, Posy, Rainbow, River (my son's name!), Rock, Root, Rose, Rosemary, Saffron, Sage, Slate, Snow, Spring, Spruce, Stone, Sunflower, Sweetpea,Thyme, Timber, Vine, Violet, Violet, Wheat, Willow, Wind, Woodland, Zinnia amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00EKRCCVO,B07MNWTX92,B00I2XNK4K,B07C432N49"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲NAUTICAL▲ Anchor, Aqua, Ariel, Bay, Captain, Coral, Crew, Cruise, Fleet, Harbor, Lake, Marina, Ocean, Oar, Pearl, Pike, Pirate, Reed, Reef, Sailor, Ship, Tide, Water, Wave amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00X236HEA,B01FMYE4TQ,B01M5DM815,B00MYWGTGQ"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲OFFBEAT & QUIRKY▲ Ale, Alos, Argyle, Banjo, Bloom, Buzz, Cab, Cajun, Cale, Canon, Cash, Chapter, Channel, Chartreuse, Chili, Chip, Cobb, Coco, Clear, Close, Creed, Curry, Cutlass, Day, Daily, Dax, Django, Domino, Dot, Ever, Faire, Fin, Flash, Flip, Gesa,  Glass, Go, Happy, History, Hopper, Iggy, Isla, Jagger, Jax, Lemma, Lesson, Libra, Limmy, Link, Linny, Little, Lucky, Kafe, Kid/Kyd, Kin, Kit, Knox, Magic, Mardi, Match, Message, Mixon, More, Moxie, New/Nu, Nico, Nomi, Nori, Only, Pharr, Pilot, Plan, Rango, Rebel, Reign, Right, Rip, Rocket, Rocky, Rogue, Roller, Rush, Setter, Seven, Share, Silk, Skill, Skip/Skipper, Stak, Sugar, Sully, Tall, Teal, Temple, Tex, Time, Tin, Trip, Vella, Valda, Virtual, Watts, Welcome, Wilder, Wire, Xan/Xantha, Zale, Zana, Zara, Zeb, Zeen, Zip, Zory, Zuma amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00W7399FU,B01LWWDM1F,B00008XL18,B00RCLGNT2,B0797PZWCT"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲PRECIOUS STONES▲ Amber, Amethyst, Cameo, Crystal, Diamond, Emerald, Garnet, Gem, Ivory, Jade, Jasper, Jewel, Jett, Lazuli, Malachite, Opal, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire, Topaz amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07779GK1D,B07DH5F6TQ,B00EV5C7CY,B00M9R28XY"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲SPIRIT ANIMALS▲ Akita, Bear, Bee, Bird, Birdie, Bison,  Bonobo, Buck, Butterfly, Cat, Colt, Coyote, Crane, Cricket, Cub, Deer, Dingo, Doe, Dove, Dragonfly, Eagle, Emu, Falcon, Fawn, Feather, Fox, Gecko, Hare, Hawk, Ibis, Lark, Lynx, Nightingale, Otter, Phoenix, Pika, Puma, Quokka, Raven, Robin, Seal, Sparrow, Swan, Tiger, Wren amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; 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[longsightmyth]

Chapter-by-Chapter, The Naming, Chapter 16

PELLINOR

So the dude talking to them in the speech is essentially a marchwarden. He’s not a bard though, which is confusing to both Cadvan and Maerad, who both thought only bards could use the speech. Maerad can’t even use the speech yet, so she’s a little left out when Cadvan and the new guy tell each other things. More people who can presumably use the speech appear with more bows and arrows and lead Maerad and Cadvan off.

The bowmen led them for hours, long into the night. Maerad looked up through the trees and saw the stars shining bright and cold above them. How many times had she cast up her eyes to the stars for succor? she wondered to herself; for as long as she could remember she had found a comfort in their chilly beauty, so remote from human suffering.

Keep that in mind: we’ll chat about it in the comparison section.

The bowmen lead them to a super fancy bardhome where the trees have even grown some beds. Cadvan is pretty chill about the whole situation, saying that he’s grateful for a bed and food while Maerad (understandably) frets. They sleep.

Cadvan learns the bowmen’s names in the morning when they set out early (Farndar, Imunt, and Penar) but nothing much else. After a while Maerad realizes they’re following a path, and they reach a river. Cadvan thinks it might be the Cirion, which does run into and out of the forest. Nobody knows what it does while it’s in the forest, though.

They are brought to the city of Rachida, which is made entirely of wood. Throughout are planted gardens and orchards. It sounds pretty great tbh. Cadvan says he has in fact heard of Rachida in story and lore (it was one of the havens of the Dhyllin) but everybody thought it had been destroyed.

As they walk through the city the people are kind of interested in Cadvan and Maerad (they’re both pale and dark-haired, which appears to be a rarity here) but even more interested in the horses. The children especially follow them.

They are led to a hill and told their ruler’s hall is at the top.

There’s a lot of similarities to Lothlorien for reasons that will soon become even clearer, but Rachida is actually more similar to Gondolin for all that Ardina could easily be compared to Galadriel.

They get to eat and wash their faces and hands and rest, and then Farndar comes back to lead them to what is effectively a throne room.

At the far end was a dais on which was placed a single chair, carved simply out of a polished black wood that Maerad thought at first was stone, and in the chair sat a tall woman. She was robed in white, and her hair fell freely down her shoulders almost to her feet, like a river of silver. Her face seemed at once young and infinitely ancient, as if she were the painted image of a queen who had reigned in ages long past which, by some enchantment, lived; and her gaze pierced Maerad with a strange thrill, as if she had stepped into a cold river. She bore no circlet or jewel or staff of authority, yet Maerad knew at once she was a queen of great power.

The woman tells them that it’s a good thing Cadvan knows the speech, because otherwise they might already be dead and she’d be a little bit sorry about it, since she prefers people not to die needlessly. They’ve been brought to her to hear her decision.

“I will tell you willingly of us, Lady of Rachida,” said Cadvan, bowing. “But it seems a lack of courtesy not to know who I am addressing, and who reigns over this enchanted place.”

“You wish to know who I am?” The woman seemed to ripple with amusement, although she did not laugh. “I am called many things. To my people I am the Star of the Evening, and the Song of Morning, and the Sap That Feedeth the Tree of Life; and once I was called the Child of the Moon, and the Jewel of Lirion, and many other names. I have wandered beyond the Gates to the Meadows of Shade and returned whole, and so am encumbered with a doom alone of all my kind, and am also called the Alone. What is a name?”

Cadvan, who apparently missed the whole bit about names being pointless to her, asks if she was once known among bards as Queen Ardina. She says yes fine, that’s her too, and she hadn’t thought anybody remembered her outside Rachida.

Cadvan says the bards at least remember her, but they all thought she died, and Ardina basically says she isn’t allowed to die.

They all sit and chat, Cadvan filling Ardina in on a few things, and,

She asked for news of the realm of Annar with a distant curiosity, as if they spoke of something that had nothing to do with her, but was quaint, like travelers’ tales of distant regions.

So if you can’t tell, Ardina is an Elidhu, though we don’t know that for sure for another two pages or so. She mentions her kinship with Maerad (second Elidhu clue, the first being, of course, that she’s only vaguely interested in the human world: I still love that little detail. Even the Big Good Elidhu is kind of like ‘sometimes these stories are entertaining’) and sends them off to rest more while she considers some things.

The kids still love the horses, and Cadvan and Maerad are given a guest house to sleep in, where Maerad asks about Ardina since Cadvan is so flummoxed by her continued existence.

Ardina, it turns out, fell madly in love with a mortal king and rescued him from Arkan (the Ice King, if you remember), but first she had to exist, so Cadvan gives us a bit of poetry.

When Arkan deeme an endless cold

And greenwoods rotted bleak and sere,

The moon wept high above the world

To see its beauty dwindling:

To earth fell down a single tear

And there stepped forth a shining girl

Like moonlight that through alabaster

Wells, its pallow kindling

A wild amazement fastened on

The Moonchild’s heart, and far she ran,

Through all the vales of Lirion

Her voice like bellnotes echoing:

And from the branches blossoms sprang

In iron groves of leafmeal wan,

And Spring herself woke up and sand,

The gentle Summer beckoning.

Basically, Ardina is a mashup of Galadriel, Luthien, and Arwen. I’m less mad about it than I could be, especially since she was apparently created in direct opposition to Winter, aka Arkan.

So Ardina rescued Ardhor from Arkan, and Cadvan says there are a zillion and twelve tales about her (paraphrasing).

“But I wonder what she meant, when she spoke of her doom. The Lady Ardina was one of the Elementals, and she alone of all her kind attempted to die as a mortal and to follow her lover through the Gates. The songs say that they walked together past the Meadows of Shade and to the Starry Groves that overlook this world, and there at last they could be together as they wished. But it seems the songs are wrong.”

I love this, y’all. She tried to pull a Luthien and failed.

Maerad dreams about her mother Milana as First Bard of Pellinor, and in the dream Milana won’t turn to look at her. Maerad wakes up crying.

If she was First Bard of Pellinor, [Maerad] thought to herself, why did she not free us? Why couldn’t she have run away with me, like Cadvan did? Maerad couldn’t remember Milana ever mentioning her father, but suddenly she knew with adamant certainty that his death had destroyed her mother. She wondered what it was like to love someone like that, like her mother had loved her father, like Ardina had loved Ardhor. She never would: it was too dangerous. It had killed Milana. And even Maerad hadn’t been enough to save her. Why not? A pain she had never acknowledged opened and flowered in her breast. Why couldn’t she have saved her mother? Why did Milana die, so miserable, so broken, in a place so far from the bright world that was her right?

...she thought of Silvia, of how deeply she already loved her, of how in that short time in Innail she had been more of a mother to her than anyone. Except Milana before Pellinor burned, she loyally added to herself; but the truth was she could scarcely remember Pellinor.

Maerad further remembers that the Elidhu in the forest called her ‘daughter’ and starts spiraling into an existential crisis, remembering Dernhil too, and then moves on to whether going to Norloch is worth it and how exactly she feels about Cadvan.

She knew she trusted him as she trusted no other man in her life, except perhaps the father she could barely remember, but she didn’t really understand why. Perhaps it was because Silvia trusted him too; but inside she knew it was more than that. She remembered how he had first stood before her in the cowbyre, years ago it seemed, though it was only a couple of months: how his face then was gray with exhaustion, vulnerable, and, she thought now, sad. Even then it had not occurred to her to doubt him. ...what if he was wrong [about her being the foretold]? Would he then abandon her?

She can’t stop thinking and can’t sleep, so she goes outside to look up at the stars. Eventually she does sleep, wrapped up in a blanket. He tucks her hair away from her face and goes back inside to let her wake up naturally (I’m a sucker: SHE’S SIXTEEN but this is really cute).

The next morning Maerad is especially grumpy about not having the speech since that’s how everyone communicates here. Cadvan tells her to be patient and it’ll come. Maerad points out that he doesn’t know everything because he didn’t know about the elementals.

“No,” said Cadvan. “I don’t know everything. No one does, and only the foolish seek to.”

They discuss being set apart even amongst bards, but Cadvan won’t tell her why he is even if she’s noticed it.

Rachida is great, but Cadvan makes a sidelong comment about possibly not being able to leave since nobody knows about the place.

“I hope not,” [Maerad] said. “It’s time we left.”

Rachida is in fact like Gondolin in that once you’re there you aren’t allowed to leave, they learn when Ardina summons them back after a week. Cadvan makes the case that if she doesn’t let them leave there probably won’t be a Rachida to keep safe, because the Nameless One and the Dark are rising. He further tells her that he (Cadvan) was “captured by one of thy kin, one who inhabits a mountain some know as the Landrost. He was long ago snared and corrupted by the Nameless. He is a sorcerer of great malevolence and strength, and even so he is but a slave of that Dark power.”

Ardina acknowledges that she knows who he means, and Cadvan continues that his captor had a dark reflection of Ardina’s scrying pool, and in it Cadvan saw all the awful things actually currently going down in the world including the return of the Nameless because his captor hoped he would die of despair.

“The tools of the Dark have ever lied,” said Ardina swiftly.

“Aye, Lady,” said Cadvan. “But I am said among bards to be a Truthteller, and have the gift of knowing what is a lie and what is not: and I am long used to the deceptions of the Dark. What he showed me was not a lie. He could not have hoped to have tormented me with a falsehood or a meretricious shadow; and well he knew that.”

Ardina considers it and says that Cadvan has something else he should tell her, so he tells her that Maerad is the foretold. He takes his time about it: I can’t tell if he’s dolling out tiny bits of information in hopes that eventually she’ll stop asking before he has to tell her it’s Maerad that’s important or if the book is just dawdling a bit.

Ardina says Cadvan reminds her a little bit of Ardhor, and she really wishes he didn’t. She turns to Maerad.

“I see a Fate on thee, sister,” said Ardina softly. With a thrill, Maerad realized that Ardina was speaking to her in the tongue of the Elidhu, not in the language of Annar. “I sensed it when first I saw thy face. I know not what to say to thee, for thou art yet asleep, like the lily that sleepeth under the ground in winter; and yet within thee there dwells a fire of unsurpassed brightness, which will blossom in its own time.”

She says that she thinks it will mean the end of her people here in Rachida one way or the other, and Maerad says maybe it will be another beginning. Then she realizes that Ardina and the Elidhu in the forest are the same person, just slightly different aspects maybe.

“Aye, sister,” said Ardina, who was studying her closely. “You see aright. I am both Queen and Elidhu, here and there, wildefire and hearthfire, forgetting and remembrance. But do not yet speak of this, for men are impatient with such things and do not brook contradiction.”

Ardina says she’s going to let them go and gives Maerad a ring, telling her to be careful: “...you are sought by the Dark and the Light. Perhaps you will find that your Fate has nothing to do with either of them. It may be that you will find that your greatest peril exists already within you.”

She adds that Maerad has a great heart, but will suffer for it and shouldn’t let the suffering make her heart any smaller. She gives Cadvan only a blessing, but he says that’s pretty big in his books.

Maerad decides she will always wear the ring just like she always wears the jewel Silvia gave her, “as a token of love.”

They are led out of Rachida and bid everybody farewell.

Yet already it seemed to [Maerad] that a shimmering veil lay between her and Rachida, as if, even at this distance, it lay only within her memory, a golden dream of untouchable beauty.

THRONE OF GLASS

Chapters 32, 33, and 34, y’all.

Nehemia and Celaena walk through the gardens. Celaena reflects on how much of the common tongue she’s taught Nehemia even though they both speak Eyllwe on their walks, and how in learning Eyllwe she at least learned something in the mines.

Nehemia says that Celaena seems troubled. Celaena says she can’t tell her anything about it, and Nehemia says she understands secrets but will always be there for Celaena to talk to. She mentions that Celaena is always followed by guards or locked in her rooms, and “if [Nehemia was] a fool, [Nehemia] would say they were afraid of [Celaena].”

I’d worry that my friend was being unwillingly kept, but what do I know.

Nehemia says that she’s been talking to Georgina to keep her fingers in all the pies of royal politics, which I approve of. Anyway, they reach the kennels, where Celaena worries they aren’t allowed to be.

“I am Princess of Eyllwe,” [Nehemia] said. “I can go wherever I please.”

Rock on until you hit the evil conqueror whose will is supposedly never flouted, I guess.

The breeds were all fascinating and beautiful, but the sleek hounds aroused awe in her breast.

Breeds weren’t really a thing in medieval-ish society? You bred for traits, but you didn’t have, say, labrador retrievers or springer spaniels. I guess I can give some leeway because hounds were a thing, but you just went ‘I have a dog that’s great at sniffing out game, let’s breed it with ANOTHER dog good at sniffing out game.’ The classifications weren’t nearly so specific as ‘breed’ implies. Also, stop using aroused to sound fancy 2k18.

In short, when Dorian and Celaena discuss ‘mutts’ I roll my eyes a lot. If they looked nice and fulfilled a function, the dogs were already ahead of the game. If they just fulfilled a function, they were used for it.

ANYWAY.

Celaena gets angry when Dorian says that a puppy that hates people and also won’t get along with other dogs might have to be killed. Celaena immediately scoops it up and declares that that would be cruel, and Dorian says fine, he’ll find a family for it if it makes her happy and make sure she approves of the family.

But if the dog hates people and other animals, what kind of family are you going to get it to? You can’t put it with kids, kids like to pet soft things and a dog who hates people and other animals will bite. Dogs can do damage. Additionally, Dorian didn’t even say that the dog would be killed: it was a conditional. I hate to be on Dorian’s side, but he said if the dog couldn’t respond to humans it would have to be killed, and that’s an if. So like?

Nehemia and Celaena leave, discussing how pretty Dorian is and how much Nehemia has misjudged him (...?). Celaena says she would sooner cut her heart out than love a Havilliard, which. Fair.

Celaena considers running away once she and Nehemia split up, and runs into Cain, who is acting strangely. He finally leaves after appearing to almost choke himself and try to say something.

Celaena waited until the sounds of his fleeing footsteps faded, then hurried back to her own rooms. She sent messages to Nox and Pelor, not explaining why, but just telling them to stay in their chambers that night and not open the door for anyone.

I maintain that Celaena is Adarlan’s Assassin not because she is the most competent, but because everyone else is even more incompetent. The champion candidates are getting murdered left and right and nobody’s guarding their doors? I’d guard them on the off chance it was one of the champion candidates offing the others to eliminate competition.

Chapter 33

Kaltain smokes opium for her headaches. Perrington comes to see her and she swaps clothes and sprays perfume in the hope that he won’t smell it, and then drops hints about Lillian not being appropriate for the prince. Perrington agrees. Kaltain manages this while hallucinating and in the midst of a migraine.

Cut to Celaena in the library. Nehemia enters and says she didn’t know where else to go. Five hundred rebels were captured and being transported to Calaculla when they tried to escape and all of them were killed.

“What is the point in being a princess of Eyllwe if I cannot help my people?” Nehemia said. “How can I call myself their princess, when such things happen?”

“I’m so sorry,” Celaena whispered. As if those words broke the spell that had been holding the princess in place, Nehemia rushed into her arms. Her gold jewelry pressed hard into Celaena’s skin. Nehemia wept. Unable to say anything, the assassin simply held her—for as long as it took for the pain to ease.

We’re gonna discuss this later, y’all. For now, the next chapter.

It’s eleven pm and Nehemia has returned to her room. Celaena stretches and feels a cramp. We are informed she’s been like this for an hour. Philippa comes in with tea and says it’s a pity about the rebels, but that at least Nehemia has a good friend like Celaena.

She leaves. Chaol comes by and starts babbling his feelings on the matter to Celaena even after she tells him she isn’t feeling well. She throws up, which is fair - menstrual cramps are, as previously mentioned, nothing to sneeze at. Chaol is alarmed and escorts her to bed, where she finally fesses up that it’s her cycle.

He immediately flees.

Dorian comes in and decides they should play cards, since he knows she’s menstruating and wants to distract her. She throws a book at him, he says she should call him Dorian, and then he starts to mock her romance novels. She tells him Chaol wouldn’t read them either, so he takes one and hides the title to avoid being embarrassed I guess.

Dorian tells her she’s beautiful. We learn that he hasn’t ever known an attractive woman this long without courting her except Kaltain.

He goes from there to considering how he’ll feel about inheriting a conquering country to how Celaena must feel about being from a conquered country, with only a cursory mention of Nehemia, whose people are being killed right now you selfish overcooked monkfish.

Anyway, he tells Celaena he gets why she might hate him (no one ever mentions this to Nehemia) and Celaena tells him he isn’t like the others and he mentions the Yulemas ball.

Celaena can’t come. She wants to know why, and also what a yulemas ball is. Celaena, you are a motherfucking princess and also raised in this exact city, you know about the goddamn religion/celebrations.

She jokes about extending her regards to Perrington, and Dorian gets angry thinking of how Perrington treated Celaena. Dorian leaves.

Celaena stared at the moonlight as it streamed across the ceiling. A masked ball on Yulemas! Even if it was the most corrupt and ostentatious court in Erilea, it sounded dreadfully romantic. And of course, she wasn’t allowed to go. She let out a long sigh through her nose and tucked her hands beneath her head. Was that what Chaol had wanted to ask her before she vomited—a true invitation to the ball?

She shook her head. No. The last thing he’d ever do would be to invite her to a royal ball. Besides, both of them had more important things to worry about. Like whoever was killing the Champions. Perhaps she should have sent word to him about Cain’s strange behavior earlier that afternoon.

Celaena closed her eyes and smiled. She could think of no nicer Yulemas gift than for Cain to be found dead the next morning. Still, as the clock marked the passing hours, Celaena kept her vigil—waiting, wondering what truly lurked in the castle, and unable to stop thinking of those five hundred dead Eyllwe rebels, buried in some unmarked grave.

You forget about them quickly enough.

COMPARISON

Let’s get this out of the way: I love that Ardina is a failed Luthien, and I love that she kept on keeping on anyway. It’s an interesting contrast to how Maerad thinks about Milana, though later on we learn more happened than just Maerad’s father’s murder.

About the stars: Throne of Glass has a fascination with the stars, but usually in order to make bombastic statements about how much people want to sleep together etc etc. The bards have a whole culture surrounding stars (if you remember from way back in the very beginning, they’re even technically called Star People). When Maerad looks up at the stars, she’s pulling on childhood teachings that she might not consciously remember but remained ingrained in her. When Celaena looks up at the stars… well I don’t know, what do the stars even mean to Celaena aside from that one line about rattling them that originated with Treasure Planet?

Also we hit a menstruation scene in Throne of Glass, which is slightly better than I remember maybe. Everyone involved is super embarrassed except Dorian, who proceeds to try to embarrass her about her books and this is supposed to be funny? I don’t know. It feels very juvenile, but then so does the whole book so maybe that’s just what’s wrong here. You’d think menstruation in a YA novel aimed at young women especially would deal more maturely with the whole thing, but to be completely fair a lot of grown-ass people I know in real life deal with menstrual cycles in a juvenile way.

On the note of dealing with things well or not: I am not a fan of the narrative becoming All About Celaena once more when it’s Nehemia’s people who have been murdered. I understand that we don’t get Nehemia’s PoV, but we do get Dorian’s and he feel remorse towards Celaena ten times more than he feels for Nehemia, whose people are being murdered right now when he can in theory do something about it as opposed to a conquest that happened when he was eight or nine. This book’s priorities are very clear.

Both protagonists are likened to fire a lot, or having a fire burning in them, and both display fantastic capacity for destruction (granted for Celaena it’s in later books). Celaena gives lip service once or twice to not wanting to use her powers and/or wanting to be normal, but it always feels out of left field. Part of it is that we’re in her head so if the narrative doesn’t mention it it seems like Celaena isn’t thinking about it, and part of it is how little Celaena hesitates to use her phenomenal cosmic powers to threaten or punish.

Maerad uses her magic in times of fear and worries about it afterwards. She constantly worries, because it’s only been a few months. She trusts Cadvan and Silvia, neither of whom belittle her or invade her privacy or override her opinions. I wonder how Celaena would seem to us-the-readers if she had a more deeply developed relationship with anybody: it’s a pity that Nehemia is here to prop up Celaena’s supposed awesome, because Dorian and Chaol constantly override her opinions, deliberately invade her space to watch her sleep, don’t believe her if she says she feels ill, and force their presence on her when she doesn’t feel well. That’s leaving aside embarrassing her about her own body or her reading taste.

Honestly at this point Celaena feels like one of those children who are often unpleasant, but once you see their home life you understand: they have too many rules and not enough boundaries. Here, the book is the parent: it refuses to let Celaena move out of the role of Shining Light in the Darkness Who Can Do No Wrong when it tries to push the idea on us, while at the same time letting her get away with everything so long as it doesn’t directly stop the story’s goal. It’s bad writing and worse parenting.

Maerad is allowed to make mistakes and worry and second guess and be wrong. She’s allowed to be set down, but she’s also allowed to be right even in the face of her love interest, which is something Throne of Glass also doesn’t allow. Maerad is a sixteen year old coming out of a terrible situation that she ended up in through no fault of her own, and she’s adjusting, however slow the adjustment might be in some areas (or fast in others). Her experience has shown her, for instance, that dudes are to be feared or at least to be wary of, but her instincts and (short) experience with Cadvan say that he is trustworthy. Cadvan very purposefully gives her space: compare the scene a few chapters back in ToG where Chaol and/or Dorian watch Celaena sleep to the scene here where Cadvan finds her asleep.

First of all, he isn’t going into her private space looking to watch her sleep. He goes outside and she has fallen asleep there. He moves her hair out of her face and leaves her alone, in fact going back inside so she isn’t disturbed. Chaol and Dorian? Walk right into Celaena’s bedroom and stare. They stare a lot. They wake her up. They fantasize about her, so when they do something like move her hair back it’s fucking creepy instead of sweet. I cannot emphasize enough how deplorable I find it that these two men with literal power of life and death over our protagonist continuously enter her private spaces without permission (sometimes after being told to leave). It doesn’t matter that I hate Celaena. It doesn’t matter that I loathe Celaena with every fiber of my being. This is bullshit, and I hate it.

Cadvan, I think you might be worth 10,212 Dorians and 127 Chaols. Even your age difference goes by the wayside at this point.

STATS

Throne of Glass

Pages: 22

Fragments: 19

Em-Dashes: 49

Ellipses: 15

Pellinor

Pages: 29

Fragments: 9

Em-Dashes: 6

Ellipses: 7

[distortionswife]

Live footage of Helen dragging me away from the lightless flame

[todes--angst]

I just love music asks

Tagged by: @der-aggressor​ thank you dear, and you’re right. This definitely will take very long. And I believe that no one would even go through all of them 笑

EDIT: THIS TOOK ME THREE DAYS, BETTER APPRECIATE IT 笑 笑 笑

Tagging: Whoever wants to because this definitely takes forever

There are going to be a lot of my own songs in this one. Just a warning.

1:A song you like with a color in the title

Human Traces - Alles Schwarz (everything black)

This is my second band in germany, which I miss dearly.

Komm, süße Krankheit. Der Tod blüht, während wir für das Nichts tanzen. Der Tod blüht, Wenn alles was ich sehe Schwarz ist.

2: A number in the title

Batushka - Yektenia 1

Israel has apprehended the adolescent, Let's remember favor, As spoke to our fathers, Abraham and his seed

3:A song that reminds you of summertime

Harakiri for the Sky - Fire, walk with me

Summer just makes me think of this endless heat, so, perfect title, right?

How can we forgive ourselves? For what we have become? How should we bear this burden? Displace the things we've done?

4:A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about

Behemoth - O Father O Satan O Sun! 

Even if you have been there for me after my father banned me, I still see your protectiveness over me as poison.

Oh father, oh satan, oh sun Let the children come to thee Behold the morning star Akephalos Shine through me Come forth in war Come forth in peace

5:A song that needs to be played LOUD

Eluvietie - Inis Mona

Welcome to the land of questions Welcome to the isle of lore Where the veil came crumbling down

6:A song that makes you want to dance

Corvus Corax - the drinking loving dancers

Let us dance, let us dance Let us dance the whole night We shall sleep when we are dead And we won’t put up a fight 

7:A song to drive to

Shining -  Låt Oss Ta Allt Från Varandra

Let us take everything from each other Let us take everything from ourselves

8:A song about drugs or alcohol

Eminem - Not Afraid 

I'm way too up to back down But I think I'm still tryin' to figure this crap out Thought I had it mapped out but I guess I didn't, this fuckin' black cloud Still follows me around but it's time to exercise these demons These muh'fuckers are doin' jumpin' jacks now

9:A song that makes you happy

Kamelot - Sacrimony 

Sing for me angel of afterlife calming me down Chaos inside my nebula And make the wrong turn to right in a celestial light Forgive my sacrimony

10:A song that makes you sad

The lily and the rose

The maidens came when I was in my mother's bower; I had all that I would.

11:A song that you never get tired of

Die Antwoord - Banana Brain 

Banana brains, you’re the apple of my eye Stay with me tonight 'Cause I'm having the best time of my life

12:A song from your preteen years

조장혁 - 중독된 사랑 영어자막 

Have you forgotten it all? All the days that you and I loved each other, now have all our memories become obsolete and faded?I still cannot forget you. I cannot bear it.

13:One of your favorite 80’s songs

Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams

Some of them want to use you Some of them want to get used by you Some of them want to abuse you Some of them want to be abused.

14:A song that you would love played at your wedding

------ a wedding will never exist so this won’t be answered------

15:A song that is a cover by another artist

Anaal Nathrakh - Carnage (Mayhem Cover)

Witchcraft, blood and Satan Meet the face of death Blood, fire, torture, pain Winds of war, winds of hate

16:One of your favorite classical songs

Arwen’s Vigil

17:A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke

Rammstein - Pussy

You've got a pussy I have a dick So, what's the problem Let's do it quick So take me now before it's too late Life's too short so I can't wait Take me now, oh, don't you see I can't get laid in Germany

18:A song from the year that you were born

Marilyn Manson - The Beautiful People

There's no time to discriminate Hate every motherfucker That's in your way

19:A song that makes you think about life

Arx Atrata - Legacy

We are given just one life And each day our fate is left in our hands Choosing whether to build or to destroy As the tides of time crawl across the sands

20:A song that has many meanings to you

You don’t allow me 

One of my songs. I speak with my soul

Follow the stream of bloods At the end of a madness, I come back to my tragedy Held by the skin but rejected to be Like fever grows, I’m being captured by the one clear answer My final resistance, my only salvation is the death

21:A favorite song with a person’s name in the title

Davy Jones

Over waves And deep in the blue I will give up My heart for you

22:A song that moves you forward

Amon Amarth - Twilight of the Thunder God

( it just pumps me up, and wakes me up in the morning) Mighty Thor grips the snake Firmly by it's tongue Lifts his hammer high to strike Soon his work is done

23:A song that you think everybody should listen to

Cradle Of Filth - Nymphetamine Fix 

Sick and weak from my condition  This lust, this vampiric addiction To her alone in full submission None better, nymphetamine 

24:A song by a band you wish were still together

(they are still together, but without Chester Linkin Park is no more in my eyes)

Linkin Park - In the End

I tried so hard and got so far But in the end it doesn't even matter I had to fall to lose it all But in the end it doesn't even matter

25:A song by an artist no longer living

hide -  限界破裂 

Staring at you makes my heart ache I have to protect this, or it will be ruined You don't know it But you are my medicine Only I can swallow you

26:A song that makes you want to fall in love

Alcest - Autre temps

As this weatherworn world remains the same, And tomorrow, you and I will be gone.

27:A song that breaks your heart

Loona - Hijo de la Luna 

Gypsy man believing himself dishonred Went to his woman knife in hand Who's son is this? You've cheated on me permanently And he hurted her to dead Then he went to the mount With the kid in his arms And he abandoned him there

28:A song by an artist with a voice that you love

Myrkur -  Scandinavian folk on Nyckelharpa

(no lyrics available)

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody

Mama, just killed a man Put a gun against his head Pulled my trigger, now he's dead

30:A song that reminds you of yourself

My little dark paradise

the last one of my songs here. 

Every drop of the blood, my crying devil is growing Watches me in the darkness, Talks about the end Gently, calmly it drives me into the darkness We shared too much darkness

[ncfan-1]

Heirs and Cast-Offs

The birth of a sibling isn't always the happiest affair--especially not for Arahael, uncertain of her place among her people. A talk with her grandmother makes for... interesting conversation. 

Written for the April 18th general prompt Customs and Traditions. It looks like writing about one of the Chieftains of the Dúnedain I head-canon as a woman has become an annual tradition (Probably to be combined with writing about one of the rulers of Arthedain I head-canon as a woman).

[Also on AO3]

[CN/TW: Brief discussion of rape; internalized misogyny. A more general note is that, as ever, the views of the characters do not necessarily represent my views.]

-----------------------------------

Her mother had been brought back to Imladris almost as soon as it was discovered that she was pregnant. Lady Ídhil had had a hard time of it with Arahael, from beginning to end, and Lord Aranarth thought it better that she be monitored by the Elven healers for as long as possible. Arahael had seen little of her mother since the latter was brought to Imladris, though that was scarcely unusual—her mother was typically far away in the northern wastes of what had once been Arnor, and had neither the time nor the opportunity to visit the place where her daughter was fostered. As a younger child, Arahael had resented it, but Master Elrond had taught her (among the other things he had taught her) the paramount importance of adhering to duty. Her parents could not be with her, but they still wished for her to be safe and cared for, and have all the advantages she would have had if her father was King of Arthedain instead of chieftain of a scattered, broken people. That was why she was here, and they were so rarely with her. And even if they were rarely with her, it was hardly as though they’d left her alone.

She’d seen little of her mother. Lady Ídhil’s health had been poor since around the third month of her pregnancy, and she rarely stirred from the rooms that had been prepared for her. Arahael’s days were consumed by her lessons—dawn to dusk, she had lessons. If she neglected them for even one day, it would take well-nigh a week to catch up. She’d done that but once while her mother was here, stealing away from her lessons to pay her mother a visit.

 “Do you think it pleases me to see you disrespect our allies thus?” Her voice was deathly quiet as she spoke, her eyes like chips of ice. “Leave me. Go back to them, and beg forgiveness. If you wish to please me, you will dutifully attend your lessons, and never again visit me when you should be elsewhere.”

The rebuke had stung, but it was supposed to; a rebuke could not be taken to heart unless it pierced the flesh. Arahael had done as her mother had asked, and on the occasions they saw each other, she thought Lady Ídhil was happier with her. But they hadn’t seen each other often.

It was months ago now, nearly a year ago, that Arahael’s mother had come to Imladris. Her father was here now, as well. She had seen little of him. Given what was happening, she wasn’t certain she wanted to. Her mother had given birth, Arahael’s sibling had been brought into the world, and everything that had happened since then left Arahael less and less certain of just what her place was supposed to be.

“You’ve been very quiet.”

As ever, when her grandmother spoke up suddenly, it was jarring, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t have been. Her grandmother had lived in Imladris for longer than Arahael herself had been alive. She ought to have felt like a fixture here, her presence as right and natural as the towering peaks of the Hithaeglir that surrounded the town, as ineffaceable as the voice of the Bruinen. And yet, she seemed as Arahael sometimes still felt—at best, a guest; at worst, an intruder. Someone who was allowed to live here, but would never truly belong here.

Lady Arwen had murmured to her, her night-dark eyes trained on a point just over the top of Arahael’s head, that all Men were guests on this earth. One of the names the Elves had given to Men when they first met was the Guests, for they had perceived that this world was not their true home. Arahael had never forgotten that conversation. The memory of unease sat on her chest in the dark of the night like the tales she had heard whispered by Éothéod traders passing through Imladris on their way west—the mære, an evil spirit that tormented sleepers by sitting heavily upon their chests, tearing at their flesh with their claws and flooding their minds with terrible dreams. She felt… unsettled.

Now, more so than ever.

“Have I?” Arahael asked, her voice more stilted than it normally was to her ears. Fíriel had taught her grandchild Sindarin as the people of Gondor spoke it, and they had taken to speaking to one another in that dialect when they were alone. It had never sat as well on Arahael’s tongue as had the Sindarin of the northern Dúnedain, the Sindarin of the Elves of Imladris, but she made the effort for her grandmother’s sake. After everything else, it did not seem so much to ask, that Fíriel of Gondor could hear Sindarin spoken as her countrymen spoke it.

“Indeed, you have,” Fíriel told her, her keen eyes glinting with the edge of her amusement. “Until you spoke I was wondering if you hadn’t been struck mute.” Her voice softened as she pressed her hand to Arahael’s arm. “What troubles you, child?”

Arahael twisted the tip of her belt in her hands, trying to find words with which to make concrete the things that were twisting in her mind—mære fears, or perhaps the fears manufactured by a worrying child, or perhaps they were reasonable fears considering what had happened. She felt her grandmother’s touch on her mind. Gentle, no doubt meant to be reassuring—it didn’t feel like she was trying to pick the locks on the doors or force them open, not the way her father might do if she behaved thusly with him. “You’ve seen my mother,” she said slowly, tentatively. “You’ve seen the baby.”

“Indeed I have, Arahael. It’s been more than a month.” She tilted her head downwards, so that they were a little closer to being on eye level with one another. “I could scarcely have avoided it,” she added conspiratorially, her mouth twisting in a rueful smile.”

“Then… you know. That the baby’s a boy.”

Fíriel’s eyebrows shot up. “I have been told as much, yes.” She regarded Arahael with her head tilted slightly to one side. “This is something that troubles you?”

Arahael bit her lip. Her grandmother was a daughter of Gondor, many generations removed from Númenor, but she had never seen in any way diminished to Arahael’s eyes. She was well past her hundredth year, and her face was as smooth as an Elf’s, her hair untouched by frost. Her eyes were as far-seeing as any king of old’s must have been, her mind as quick and wise. Though Arahael could immediately discern the difference between Fíriel and the Elves, her grandmother still seemed to Arahael grand and ageless, as timeless as the Hithaeglir. She could imagine Fíriel must have been what Silmariën looked like when she ruled Andúnië, thousands of years ago. The blood of Númenor ran stronger in her than it did in anyone else Fíriel had ever seen, and the things that plagued Arahael’s mind seemed… small, in comparison.

It was too late to give her excuses and bow out of her grandmother’s chambers, too late to pretend that she was not troubled at all. Much as she would have liked to go, Arahael saw now avenue that would let her. She sucked in a deep breath—meant to be steadying, but honestly, she didn’t feel any different at all. “The baby’s a boy.” Her fingernails sank into her knees, needle-points of pain even through layers of soft, rich fabric. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now.”

“Why should anything happen to you?”

A knot formed in Arahael’s throat. “Everyone says men are better warriors.” And still believed it, even when Arahael spent hours slaving over exercises, over archery and swordplay and knife-work. She learned quickly, her teachers allowed, but her natural skill would never be the equal of a man’s. That was something that everyone knew, a truth so obvious that usually there was no value in saying it aloud.

“Being a leader means more than just being able to swing a sword and strike true, Arahael,” Fíriel pointed out. “There were many kings in Númenor—ruling queens, as well—who never brandished a sword against a foe.” She picked up a book from a nearby dresser. “I could list them to you, if you so desire.”

“I’m not going to be the heir anymore.”

“That’s not how it has ever been done in Arthedain, child—the oldest child inherits, regardless of their sex. The disagreement between Amlaith and her brothers is the reason it was Arthedain, and not Arnor.”

Arahael stared up at her. “They wouldn’t let you been Queen of Gondor,” she said in a small voice, “because you’re a woman.”

Fíriel’s expression was unreadable—she could be made from carven stone. “And you believe that because your father has the blood of Gondor in his veins, he will follow Gondor’s customs and disinherit you.”

Silence. There was nothing she could say, nothing that didn’t sound utterly pathetic.

Everyone agreed that men made for better warriors than did women. Fair enough, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain’s duties were not limited to combat—Arahael had just as many lessons about healing, woodcraft, and herb lore as she did the art of war. But it was scarcely possible to deny that the North was a dangerous place, any more than it was possible to deny that the Dúnedain were always at risk, and that they needed a leader who was as great a warrior as a healer.

Most also believed that men made for better leaders than did women, and Arahael couldn’t work around that by giving her all both to lessons in combat and in healing. Men were made to lead, women to follow. Though everyone had always insisted that she was an exception, that the highest blood of Númenor was not governed by such things, this was still what they claimed to be true. Only a man could be both the warrior and judge his people needed.

Now, Arahael was no longer her father’s only child. The Chieftain of the Dúnedain had a son, a son who could be the warrior, judge, and leader the Dúnedain needed, scattered across the North as they were. Arahael had always striven to be all that her people needed her to be, but would it be enough or him? Or would she be set aside in favor of the baby? Was it her fate to be doomed to become one of the unnamed spaces on the old genealogical tables, unworthy of a name for she was a woman who had neither ruled over anyone, nor married anyone who did?

No intrusion upon her mind was forthcoming, not even the gentlest of knocks upon the door, but Fíriel sensed her disquiet, all the same. She reached out and grasped Arahael’s hand (it was shaking, she realized almost absently, and even more absent was the revelation that she couldn’t remember when her hands had started shaking thus) in her own large, strong hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her hands were always so warm, Arahael thought numbly, even in the depths of winter when the snowdrifts were up to her waist. “The North isn’t as Gondor in matters of inheritance, my love.” She smiled slightly, her eyes tilting upwards. “You need not fear the theft of your inheritance.”

“But what if Father—“

“Your father will not forsake Arthedain’s laws in such a manner,” Fíriel said firmly. “He’s too much a traditionalist; no doubt he thinks that to rob you of your rights would bring the wrath of the Valar down on his head.” She looked off to one of the walls of her chambers. “He’s far too devout to risk that.”

“But they wouldn’t let you be queen at all,” Arahael mumbled. Her mouth twisted in something akin to a grimace, the thought swirling in her head a distinctly unpleasant one. “And Grandfather…”

The wind blew through the open window between them, as if to prove some kind of point. “The throne of Gondor was never my birthright to begin with. It’s hardly surprising that they wouldn’t let me have it. Although—“ A shadow dark and obscuring as a funeral shroud passed over Fíriel’s face, and for a moment, she seemed as old as a woman of lesser blood would have seemed at her age. The shadow passed, but it left behind a spark of bitterness that gleamed out of Fíriel’s eyes like pale fire. “And your grandfather, oh, what illustrious company he wished to keep.

“Herucalmo the Upstart, who leeched off of a weak-willed queen and stole his only child’s birthright for his own. Calion the Tyrant, who won a crown for his lofty brow by nobly raping his cousin—“ Fíriel’s lip curled; Arahael winced “—and spent it driving Númenor headlong into the abyss. I wonder what they would have called my husband, had he succeeded? Arvedui the Insolent, perhaps?” She tapped a finger against her mouth. “Or perhaps Arvedui the Unlearned? Certainly, if the claim he made to the Council was not totally disingenuous, it showed a shocking lack of understanding of the Númenórean inheritance laws he was trying to invoke.”

In spite of herself, Arahael blinked, startled by the venom dripping from her grandmother’s voice. Knowing what she did, it should have been obvious that there would be something like this lurking in Fíriel’s mind, waiting for the opportunity to be vented. But she had never evinced as much to Arahael, and it had never occurred to Arahael to look for it. Fíriel of Gondor had lost much. Fíriel of Gondor had been denied much. More than Arahael had, and more than Arahael thought she ever would, even if she was stripped of her inheritance as her half-mære fears warned she might be.

“What did you think of it?”

The question was blurted out, with Arahael not realizing until it was put to the air that it might not have been the best thing to ask. But it was in the air, said and done; it was too late to take it back.

Fíriel raised an eyebrow. “Of my claim being rejected?” she asked, entirely too calmly—Arahael caught sight of her shoulders stiffening. “Or your grandfather trying to take my claim for his own?”

Arahael watched her face closely, wishing her grandmother’s mind was not a house full of locked doors and shuttered windows. “All of it,” she said finally, her voice hushed.

Not immediately did Fíriel reply. She leaned back in her chair, drawing a deep, sharp breath, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing. “I never,” she said quietly, “while my father and my brothers still lived, I never thought that I could be the queen of Gondor. We have already discussed the differences between Gondor and Arthedain in this—let me go a step further. In the waning days of Númenor, the eldest daughters were stripped of their rights; Tar-Míriel was not the only one. Elendil and Anárion hated the men who did this, but they were happy to follow the precedent they set. There have been no Ruling Queens of Gondor. Women cannot inherit the throne, even if all of their brothers are dead, and their brothers childless. Not even a king’s sister-son can inherit the throne from him. The thought of my being acclaimed queen was ridiculous.

“My father never pretended that I would be anything but what I was.” Her voice was very soft; she slowly twisted the ring on her left hand from side to side. “I would never been a great woman. I would marry a great man. I would bear his children. Perhaps one of the children I bore him would be a great man, and if he was, I would be remembered as his mother. That was what I would be. No matter what my abilities—“ she clenched her jaw “—that was what I would be. I was always loved, but my family let me suffer under no illusions of what I was permitted to be.”

Her eyes misted over suddenly; she clapped a hand to her mouth. Arahael leaned forward, alarmed, but Fíriel waved her off with her free hand. “It was the most ridiculous idea. But then I learned that my father and my brothers were all dead.” She wavered, a few shaky breaths escaping her mouth, distorted by the hand still planted over her mouth. “Gondor was in turmoil; there was no clear line of succession.” As soon as Fíriel’s eyes had misted over, they hardened, water freezing to ice. “He tried to use me to make himself king of a land he had never before cared for,” she hissed venomously. “If it was anyone’s claim, it was mine, not his.” She took her hand away from her face to reveal that her mouth was twisted in an almost grotesquely hideous scowl. “If either of us should have ruled Gondor after my father died, it should have been me.”

Arahael stared, feeling all of a sudden something like an intruder, and very much like a stranger.

Fíriel drew another breath, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was familiar to Arahael again, her wise, kindly grandmother. “I was a Silmariën,” she told her gently. “A path was closed to me, and I found another. I did not enjoy the level of success that Silmariën did—I never ruled anything in my own name, not even my own house—but I was one of my father-in-law’s highest advisors, and he lent his ear to my counsel when he would not take heed of anyone else.

“You, Arahael…” She reached out and held both of Arahael’s hands in her own. Her grip was slacker this time, almost weak, but there was a vitality under her skin that belied it. “…If I am Silmariën, then you are Tar-Ancalimë, Tar-Telperiën. Your life shall be what you make of it. None of us are without things that limit our choices—in your case, it is your duty to your people—but you will have so much more control over your fate than I did.” A shadow of bitterness passed over her face, before it melted away. “And remember, Arahael. If you think that someone means to steal your birthright from you, you must fight to keep it, rather than simply withering in despair. Never let them have it, no matter who they are. Never let yourself be ruled by fear.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Arahael nodded.

--------------

Bruinen—‘Loud water’ (Sindarin). A river in the east of Eriador. It originated as two tributaries flowing out of the Misty Mountains, one of which came from the High Pass. The Bruinen flowed through the valley where Rivendell was located, and formed the eastern border of Arnor (later, Rhudaur). Éothéod—a race of Northmen who lived in the north of Middle-Earth, near the Vales of Anduin and Mirkwood. They were the ancestors of the Rohirrim. Hithaeglir—the Misty Mountains (Sindarin); the mountain range separating Eriador and Rhovanion, the largest mountain range in Middle-Earth; first raised by Morgoth to hinder Oromë in his hunting of Morgoth’s creatures

[vilyarond]

concept  ;       his house is open and communal and if you speak loud enough someone on the other side will probably hear you which helps the older elves  ( & men )  who remember the ancient wars,  the kinslayings,  by being surrounded by laughter and music and beautiful gardens as if to emphasize  you  are  not  alone  here...   

       the Hall of Fire is indoors,  after all,  instead of having nice and peaceful places outdoors and the party inside...  gatherings are encouraged but isolation isn’t frowned upon;  all visitors are encouraged to join in,  to share their own songs and stories,  imladris  never  sleeps   so whether you’re a morning person or a night owl you’ll always be able to find others to sit with if you’d like...  

       he probably takes to walking the gardens at night hours before dawn  when he recalls his friends of old and looks up to see his father sailing the oceans in the heavens with the silmaril upon his brow...  lowkey hc he’s fallen asleep outside on some balcony chair from watching the Gil-Estel in the skies;  annoying ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere,  there are some days and weeks he never steps foot in his personal chambers...  twists his ring when his sons are out with the dúnedain and he’s heard alarming reports from other messengers but nothing from the twins...  

                     ( it’s  3AM  ok    //    DO  NOT  REBLOG! )

       “ well,  merry people! ”  said bilbo looking out.  “ what time by the moon is this?  your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin!   yet i thank you. ” 

       “ and your snores would waken a stone dragon —  yet we thank you, ”  they answered with laughter.  “ it is drawing towards dawn,  and you have slept now since the night’s beginning.  tomorrow,  perhaps,  you will be cured of weariness. ” 

       “ a little sleep does a great cure in the house of elrond, ”  said he;  “ but i will take all the cure i can get.  a second good night,  fair friends! ”  and with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning. 

       “ that shall be told, ”  said elrond.  

       “ but not yet,  i beg,  master! ”  said bilbo.  “ already the sun is climbing to noon,  and i feel the need of something to strengthen me. ” 

       “ i had not named you, ”  said elrond smiling.  “ but i do so now.  come!  tell us your tale.  and if you have not yet cast your story into verse,  you may tell it in plain words.  the briefer,  the sooner shall you be refreshed. ” 

       “ so tighten your belts,  and think with hope of the tables of elrond's house! ”

       “ i wish you would tell me what happened! ” 

       “ all in good time!  you are not supposed to talk or worry about anything today,  by elrond's orders. ” 

       //       //       //       //       //

       “ [he] cured you:  he has tended you for days,  ever since you were brought in. ” 

       “ days? ” said frodo. 

       “ well,  four nights and three days,  to be exact.  the elves brought you from this where you lost count.  we have been terribly anxious  [...]  elrond is a master of healing,  but the weapons of our enemy are deadly. ” 

       “ who made the flood? ”  asked frodo. 

       “ elrond commanded it, ”  answered gandalf.  “the river of this valley is under his power,  and it will rise in anger when he has great need to bar the ford. ”

       sam led him along several passages and down many steps and out into a high garden above the steep bank of the river.  [s]hadows had fallen in the valley below,  but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above.  the air was warm.  the sound of running and falling water was loud,  and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers,  as if summer still lingered in elrond's gardens.

        //       //       //       //       //

        gandalf led them to the porch where frodo had found his friends the evening before.  the light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley.  the noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming river-bed.  birds were singing,  and a wholesome peace lay on the land.  to frodo his dangerous flight,  and the rumours of the darkness growing in the world outside,  already seemed only the memories  of a troubled dream;

       //       //       //       //       //

        for a while the hobbits continued to talk and think of the past journey and of the perils that lay ahead;  but such was the virtue of the land of rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds.  the future,  good or ill,  was not forgotten,  but ceased to have any power over the present.  health and hope grew strong in them,  and they were content with each good day as it came,  taking pleasure in every meal,  and in every word and song. 

       so the days slipped away,  as each morning dawned bright and fair,  and each evening followed cool and clear.  but autumn was waning fast;  slowly the golden light faded to pale silver,  and the lingering leaves fell from the naked trees.  a wind began to blow chill from the misty mountains to the east.  the hunter's moon waxed round in the night sky,  and put to flight all the lesser stars.

       at length the feast came to an end.  elrond and arwen rose and went down the hall,  and the company followed them in due order.  the doors were thrown open,  and they went across a wide passage and through other doors,  and came into a further hall.  in it were no tables,  but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side.  

       frodo found himself walking with gandalf.  “ this is the Hall of Fire, ”  said the wizard.  “ here you will hear many songs and tales  ━  if you can keep awake.  [it] usually stands empty and quiet,  and people come here who wish for peace,  and thought.  there is always a fire here,  all the year round,  but there is little other light. ” 

       as elrond entered and went towards the seat prepared for him,  elvish minstrels began to make sweet music.

       elrond went forward and stood beside the silent figure.  “ awake little master, ”  he said,  with a smile.  then,  turning to frodo,  he beckoned to him.

       “ wake up,  indeed! ”  he said,  cocking an eye at elrond.  there was a bright twinkle in it and no sign of sleepiness that frodo could see.  “ wake up!   i was not asleep,  master elrond.  if you want to know,  you have all come out from your feast too soon,  and you have disturbed me  ━  in the middle of making up a song.  i was stuck over a line or two,  and was thinking about them;  but now i don't suppose i shall ever get them right.  there will be such a deal of singing that the ideas will be driven clean out of my head.  i shall have to get my friend the dúnadan to help me.  where is he? ” 

       elrond laughed.  “ he shall be found, ”  he said.  “ then you two shall go into a corner and finish your task,  and we will hear it and judge it  before we end our merrymaking. ”  messengers were sent to find bilbo's friend  [...] 

       frodo halted for a moment,  looking back.  elrond was in his chair and the fire was on his face like summer  ━  light upon the trees.  near him sat the lady arwen.  to his surprise frodo saw that aragorn stood beside her;  his dark cloak was thrown back,  and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail,  and a star shone on his breast.  they spoke together,  and then suddenly it seemed to frodo that arwen turned towards him,  and the light of her eyes fell on him from afar and pierced his heart.  

       he stood still enchanted,  while the sweet syllables of the elvish song fell like clear jewels of blended word and melody.  “ it is a song to elbereth, ”  said bilbo.  “ they will sing that,  and other songs of the blessed realm,  many times tonight. ”

      and it came to pass after the days of eärendur,  the seventh king that followed valandil,  that the men of westernesse,  the dúnedain of the north, became divided into petty realms and lordships,  and their foes devoured them one by one.  ever they dwindled with the years,  until their glory passed,  leaving only green mounds in the grass.  at length naught was left of them but a strange people wandering secretly in the wild,  and other men knew not their homes nor the purpose of their journeys,  and save in imladris,  in the house of elrond,  their ancestry was forgotten.  yet the shards of the sword were cherished during many lives of men by the heirs of isildur;  and their line,  from father to son,  remained unbroken.

      //       //       //       //       //

      in all the days of the third age,  after the fall of gil-galad,  master elrond abode in imladris,  and he gathered there many elves,  and other folk of wisdom and power from among all the kindreds of middle-earth,  and he preserved through many lives of men the memory of all that had been fair;  and the house of elrond was a refuge for the weary and the oppressed,  and a treasury of good counsel and wise lore.  in that house were harboured the heirs of isildur,  in childhood and old age,  because of the kinship of their blood with elrond himself,  and because he knew in his wisdom that one should come of their line to whom a great part was appointed in the last deeds of that age.  and until that time came the shards of elendil’s sword were given into the keeping of elrond,  when the days of the dúnedain darkened and they became a wandering people.

[cometmebro-fr]

Welcome to Day 1 of Jay’s totally not procrastinated “5 dragons a Day” Lore thingy!

I’m going to be trying to give all my kids bios, and I’m going to work on the ones who do not have lores written out just yet! If you take a look at my lair, you’ll see a few bios scattered here and there, some from me, others from other lovely people, but it’s mostly barren. I do have at least a few sentences in their bios, though, if you’d like to take a look anyways.

Anyways, let’s get started!

--------

NYX Nyx is one of the last children from the original “Patient 0′s” clutch. She has been unwillingly cursed by the sickness her parents harbored, simply named Rot. It is extremely contagious, very painful, and can completely ruin a dragon’s life. Such was Nyx’s fate. This keeps her from following her dream in her new clan, to join the Navigators. Because she is contagious, she cannot go outside of the hidden city, and keeps mostly to herself. She owns a little herbal shop, but dresses like one might imagine a dashing hero would. Nyx spends most of her time in her shop/home, drinking hot teas and writing stories about what would happen if she were able to join.

--------

ASTRID Astrid is the clan’s main blacksmith, and a very talented one at that. She’s not afraid to get down and dirty with the metals she works with, and is almost always covered in one form of soot or the other. Those bits of armor on her wings are of her own making, and are also used to help shield her wings from the heat, as they are her most sensitive point on her body. Out of all the dragons in this odd land, she’s known very well to be a rambunctious and hard-working dragon. She’s the polar opposite of her best friends Lightfall and Amber, and can balance the two of them out almost twofold.

--------

ARWEN Once a dragon of Comet’s legion, Arwen was banished from the group once they found out that she was raising the dead. As the mountains outside of their comfortable portal realm are a frigid wasteland, she was forced to live out there by herself. Where she found all of her bodies, her experiments. Arwen is a bit of an oddball for someone who likes to bring back long dead dragons. She could be mistaken for any other dragon, and is easy to get along with. While what she does is more of a curiosity thing, she does enjoy the company of her reanimated corpses. Only one such corpse holds a part of them that is the most important, the memories of their past life. Irani is that dragon, and while Comet knows that she is merely an undead dragon, she still lives within the portals.

--------

APHRODITE The original matchmaker of the mountain, Aphrodite was more than happy to move that business aside once Darling and Mallory joined the group. She’s actually rather good friends with Darling, and adores the tundra so, and thinks that her relationship with Mallory was truly a match made by the gods. Now, she mostly spends her time being a painter, though she does help pair dragons together every now and again. She’s become rather talented at her paintings, and has started dabbling in sculpting; despite this realm having been pretty all decked out perfectly, it lacked any sorts of statues.

--------

REN Ren is a special imperial, if there ever were one. Admittedly, yes this mountain/portal realm is pretty blessed with so many imperials, but none other imperial has the condition she has. She is an albino dragon, and cannot go out into the ‘sun’ like other dragons can. Her skin is very sensitive, as are her eyes. This does not stop her, however, and she tries her best to remain positive. Her wings are very weak, so those machines on them are actually assistants to her flight, those few times she can go out, like at night. As she doesn’t really do much, she’s started visiting Nyx for teas, and visiting Picus to learn more about those elusive stars. This is also an effort for her to try and help connect Nyx to the thing that she loves.

[distortionswife]

Dream lore continued, as there was a new dream last night continuing it.

( Very spoilery info, not directly spoiling the podcast, but gives away some info surrounding the web, the stranger and the spiral, )

First of all, I was having tea with Annabelle Cane, I don't remember why exactly, but I was.

She was aware of the circuses preparations for the Unknowing and asked if I had any part in it. I only told her I had given that ancient bit of skin in the very beginning, to which Annabelle sighed and told me that wasn't really smart.

I said I was aware of it, but I thought I'd be killed if I didn't so, I had no choice.

Annabelle was thinking of what to do and had put down options on paper;

Get a good spot for the end of the world

Try talking to Elias or Jon about it, but I wouldn't like how it would end.

Burn the skin so Nikola can't complete the outfit and miss an essential part of her ritual.

She told me it was smart to choose one of the last two, figuring I wouldn't exactly want a world where the stranger succeeded. But in no way could I tell them I got the information from her. I agreed to it and decided the third would be best.

Annabelle showed me how to exactly 'burn' said skin, or any skin for that matter. She gave me a vial with a fluid to make it easier.

I nodded and planned to do it when she'd be away from the circus, which could be soon if there's a distraction or reason to do so.

Then that day came, I waited patiently for her to be far enough to not see or hear it. I got to the skin, poured the contents of the vial onto it and grabbed the lighter from my pocket, watching it slowly go up in flames.

Suddenly I heard an unholy scream from somewhere within this circus.

Helen was apparently watching with a big grin and laughed maniacally, telling me "Oh you better run. She's fast when she's pissed."

I ( stupidly ) ran through the door she had made, blindly trusting someone who's inevitably going to stab me in the back. And I ran for a long time through those hallways, those corridors with the many doors.

Until Helen stopped me, opened a door and shoved me through it, simply saying "Good luck~ She knows where you are!"

And then the door simply closed and I was in the forest, I thought about where to go.

( This is where the first dream ends, in the waking world I thought I'd be going to Hill Top road, for some reason. So, with that info; into last night's dream we go! )

And so, I was indeed running to Hill Top Road, and in my opinion, it was pretty smart.

It took a while because I had been dropped off somewhere in a big ass forest and there was a subtle path with more spiderwebs in trees than normal leading me to hill top road, but I had to find that first. And that was kind of difficult because there seemed to be more than one power at play. I was imagining that the spiral or the vast was having it's fun there too. The forest was a little too long.

Either way, eventually I heard THUMPING behind me, like an animal dashing it's way towards you with big steps. You can guess who this was. Just imagine that one monstrous form, that one definitely meant to absolutely terrify you. That but with the ringleader clothing, it was actually quite horrific to see, besides the voice being a little more distorted due what I assumed to be the rage.

Then I suddenly saw the path, I took it and seemed to somehow be faster. I reached Hill Top Road and there Annabelle stood in the doorway, looking at me confused, she asked why I had willingly come to this place. I simply answered I was escaping something she probably knew was chasing me.

Annabelle did know and asked what I expected out of coming here, since she has no reason to necessarily protect me.

I simply told her it was also her idea so she's responsible and Nikola wouldn't kill her because it'd be stupid to kill the mother of puppet's favorite.

Annabelle laughed at that and let me in, while Nikola was IN SIGHT. Although, she said she'd try her best but I shouldn't expect anything. She also admitted she enjoyed watching the chase, Especially when Helen added to the entire mess.

I was told Helen told Nikola where I was going like a betrayal of some kind. She liked it. She adores Helen's trickery at times.

The door would soon be slammed open, Annabelle had left it open a bit. She somehow fit in the entire house and Annabelle even tried to compliment the more spider esc monster form, but Nikola was NOT having it. Simply screaming to get me out of hiding.

Annabelle told her "There's no need to scream, I'm sure you can see them behind that cabinet from that height."

So I stepped out and hid behind Annabelle, being glared at and mocked. It was technically the first time I was scared of her, more on that later

Either way, Annabelle simply stepped aside and told me to deal with the issue I caused, to which I said "you told me to do it, so you're at fault too."

To which Nikola just snapped her head to Annabelle and asked if it was true. I don't know how I did it but I tried to basically give a pleading look, because either she could throw me under the bus and probably see me torn apart or she could save my ass.

queue the "well, technically it was my idea."

And the way too long pause.

"But they didn't exactly do it consciously, I was the one making them do it. Just wanted to see what would happen… So you can't be mad at them for it, they didn't know."

Nikola simply just scoffed and left, and once she was gone I just let out a breath I'd been holding in.

And now I owed Annabelle a favor.

Helen made her appearance as well, clapping with an uncanny big grin, telling me it was quite the show.

I just glared at her and turned my back to her, wanting to know what the favor was, and well Annabelle simply told me;

You'll know when the time's right.

˚ ₊ 𓆩 ༺ 🕷 ༻ 𓆪 ₊ ˚