#corunir

[a-lonely-dunedain]

what if she was a tiny little fairy with a pet bumblebee and a tulip petal dress and the glitteriest wings ever. and Corunir was just SO careful with her bc she's just so small and he's so big and he doesn't want to accidentally hurt her. what if I died from the cuteness

[saephrond]

Oh, Corunir.

These Dwarves looking at me like, "You believe him?"

[corunir]

*makes this pop up in your status effects*

*it won't go away*

[lotro-quest-objectives]

Talk to Corunir

[poetry-draws]

Go go Regular Rangers! Mighty, Moving, Regular Rangers!

@isi7140's machination :P

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 1

Corunir vs Elulindo

Corunir:

Ranger of the North; part of Golodir's company. Waited for his trapped friends for years (Lord of the Rings Online character)

he's a ranger of the north who followed his captain to angmar despite aragorn very specifically telling them 'hey, angmar's super dangerous, Do Not'. most of his friends got stuck and/or killed by some haunted statues, and he kept trying to cross the statues to go help them (failed many times til they almost killed him) and just waited for them on the other side for years before he managed to get a message back to the rest of the rangers. love his friends So Much and will not stop following them into stupid dangerous situations

Canonically the ranger who would give the best hugs

he's loyal to a fault, staying behind (alone) in the dread-realm of Angmar just desperately hoping for word from his captain. He couldn't make it further east to where Golodir was because of a valley of powerful watching stones that killed like half of their company when they passed through them the first time. Corunir was trapped on the west side while the survivors made it east, but kept trying to pass them for years and years "until my very spirit was broken within me" as he puts it. like. dude. this poor guy! he kept throwing himself at the valley of death-statues for years and he somehow survived. he was broken by it but he did it out of that stubborn loyalty, because "I could not abandon my captain" :( he just wants his friends to be ok!!! I'm literally so normal about him. also he's somewhere on the aroace spectrum. this is canon probably dude just trust me. we love an aroace-spec king

Elulindo:

Elulindo was the son of the Teleri king Elwë, whose name was later changed to Olwë.

HE'S SILLY. he's olwe's son. he's earwen's older brother. he's one of the reasons finarfin loved alqualonde so much (love grew between finarfin and the sons of olwe!!!). no mention in published canon means you can grab him and do literally anything, the world is your oyster

Round 1 masterpost

[hallothere]

this is apropos of nothing, but it is adjacent to the Golodir brainwashing AU.

it does go into a little detail on the setup, but this is a branch of a sarc au focused around the Horrible Canonless Potion called Mindcoil, which lets the party administering it control the mind of their poisonee. in this au, Golodir was under said evil influence during his stay in Carn Dum, was subsequently freed, further subsequently re-exposed just prior to the Grey Host's jaunt through Gondor, and re-freed after the battle of the Pelennor. this fic takes off in the Tower of Barad Curon, where Corunir finds himself (and soon, Golodir) prisoners of Gothmog

enjoy

Corunir sat on the top step of the dais as calmly as he was able. There was to be a tournament in the tower of Barad Curon, and the stage was set. Every single aspect of this trial of arms had been calculated. The weapons, the fighters, the stakes, the decor, the level of dust allowed to keep coating the floor- Gothmog had factored all of the random variables, and engineered some for his own ends.

It became obvious from the moment Corunir had woken up in a strange room. Instead of the traditional slime-covered walls, barred doors, and corpses for company, he had found his prison lavish, if dusty. A single bed sat in a large room with windows so high up on the ceiling he doubted they could be opened or closed by human hands. There was a cabinet and set of shelves on every wall, some with tables and the remains of paper, glass containers, and shreds of wood he couldn't guess the purpose of.

But he did recognize the room. That had been calculated. It was similar to another room, one he'd last seen Golodir in. High, warm walls, comfortable beds, the implements of healing. People. Chatter. There was always the smell of herbs and soothing tinctures in the air. The sound of flowing water.

This room was a tomb. Corunir clenched his jaw hard and stared at the cover of an ancient olia that stretched over most of the floor. These had been the healing halls of Minas Ithil. One corner of the cover was slightly askew, and there was no dust on it. He was meant to look. At all costs, he must not.

Gothmog may have made a fatal error there. His knowledge of Corunir was limited, and his calculations off. He knew only of the steadfast follower, the one too stubborn in the face of horrors beyond comprehension. With the palantir that had once lived in the halls of Carn Dum, he was familiar with the young man undone by the sight of his fellows lying dead in the grip of the Rammas Deluon.

He did not know Corunir very well at all.

The room had not been emptied, with purpose, and now Corunir bent that tactic to his own ends. There remained here more than remains. That would be the wraith's undoing.

Now, he sat perfectly still on the top step of the dais. Gothmog had dressed the scene well- Corunir would give him that. He had been divested of his armor and boots, allowed only tunic and trousers to attend the duel in. He'd been dragged through the city once already, and still found cobwebs and white patches of dust all over. Between the condition of his clothes and the manacles, it spelled a message just for Golodir: He is ours, he is helpless, and the outcome you desire rests in our hands.

Perfect nonsense. Smoke and mirrors. Corunir, in his own act of defiance, had scrubbed his face clean and put his hair back as neatly as he could. Gothmog underestimated him. He was no pawn, not in this game. He was moving pieces of his own, and unfortunately they were both in silent contest over who would be moving Golodir.

The mindcoil was the most prominent factor. It was a newer potion in the grand scheme of things- five hundred years of refinement and only a few decades worth of scholarly materials on how it could be undone. Corunir had been under the effects just once, and at a lower dose. He had felt muddled, compelled but not wholly under the command of the loudest voice. It did not entrance him completely, but it still drew out his complete obedience.

Corunir had worked from his despair in Aughaire on the antidote until he had the weapon, if not the means to wield it. On days where he was too weak to stand, he would pour over herbs and distillations. When he had his strength, he found stories from the Trev Gallorg, sometimes even venturing to Angmarim encampments to steal a tome or a sample. Even before he broke the Rammas, he broke the power of mindcoil in secret. A cure guarded jealously from the enemy was one they would not know to prepare against. Mindcoil was no longer the Iron Crown's ultimate weapon.

But Golodir had been in its thrall for years, puppeted by Mordirith in the halls of Carn Dum. Once ensorceled so deeply, his freedom hung more precariously than Corunir's. It had been taken in Rohan once already. Golodir had been well, of sound mind and decent enough condition, all things considered, when he had been snatched from them in secret. Dagoras had nearly died retaking him. He'd accepted the risk for kin he so loved.

Last Corunir had known, Golodir recovered alongside his longsuffering cousin in Minas Tirith. The fact that he was here, now, meant this struggle coming to its natural conclusion. Corunir was ready.

Golodir was brought forth in short order. Staged as he was, Corunir still held his head high and nodded to his captain- his friend- with all the courage in him. He would need a show of strength from both of them for this to work. Golodir, at least, was armed and armored. The mail looked solid, if old, and he had been given a clean blade as well as every scrap of plate or leather he could wish. They were arranged in a familiar configuration, with similar pieces to what he usually carried. Golodir had been allowed to choose, then. Corunir's brow darkened at the sight of the tabard of Minas Ithil with a hole- dark and stained- right over the heart. He would have to live with it.

"Here he is-" Gothmog's voice grated over the stone floor as he rose from the throne, "-my Champion. The Red Knight of Carn Dum, deserter of the Iron Crown."

"I am none of those, Mordirith." Golodir challenged. Corunir's heart soared. It was not too late! "Golodir of the Dunedain am I, and I come to remove you from a throne unlawfully taken."

Corunir fought down a smirk. Fury rolled over the room like a wave as Golodir's barb hit home. He was no pawn either. Three could play at this game.

"You accept my terms, then?" The voice took on a silkier air, forced as it was, as Gothmog pushed past the blow well-struck. "I am to win the city, your service, and your boy-" Here, Golodir couldn't stop his eyes from flicking towards Corunir, "-uncontested?"

Corunir waited expectantly for Golodir to bristle and say "And the lot to me when I win", only, his answer was not immediate.

"The first I have no claim over." Golodir stood rock-steady, looking every bit the knight. Quite suddenly, Corunir had doubts, and not the kind he anticipated either.

"The second is not mine to give freely, though it may be taken." One of his hands rested on the pommel of his borrowed sword, secured about his waist. It tightened fiercely. "And the third you will not have as long as I draw breath."

He almost laughed as several of his fears disappeared, unfounded. Golodir was of his own mind and undaunted. While he was forced to play this game as well, he was not lost in it. Not confined to it.

"But, I will abide by all terms as far as I can in my honor. Though... I have no assurances you will do the same." That was true enough. To what degree Gothmog sought to reject any semblance of Earnur, they did not know. If a new mantle and a new name meant new capacity for deceit, only time would tell.

"I stand by those terms as well, Golodir." The tone was ice, skating along the veneer of protocol and chivalry. Corunir could feel watching eyes on his back. "Your squire may attend you, and then our contest will begin."

Corunir waited for Golodir's nod, then got up and hurried over. It was time for his final preparations. Instead of maintaining an air of calm as he had before, Corunir threw himself into Golodir's arms and grabbed his tabard with both hands. Golodir, shocked but ever attentive, wrapped his arms around Corunir in response.

"Corunir," he said, relief mingling with worry, "do not be afraid. There is still hope, don't lose your nerve."

"I have not." Corunir whispered. "But if he thinks I have, and have startled you, all is the better. I come bearing gifts." Golodir would not be able to feel so fine a movement through mail and plate, but Corunir uncurled one hand hidden between them.

"Take this," he breathed, "and eat it in secret. Put a hand to your mouth when I leave, pretend to cry, do whatever you must. And worry not for me! I have had some already. Mordirith will play us false, but he doesn't know all that I do."

Golodir didn't respond, but stepped back to take both of Corunir's hands in his. The sachet passed between them easily.

"I thought you'd already made acceptance with our meal in the city." Golodir said, eyes too full of emotion to catch just one, "Though I do appreciate it, son."

"Would not a dutiful son do all he can?" Corunir smiled grimly. "If he thinks me your son by blood, I'll not dissuade him. Though if I wish to hold a meal for you, you can't stop me."

Golodir chuckled. "He returns. Try not to do anything rash, whatever may come. I'll not lose son and Captain both today."

"It will come to neither." Corunir's heart sank a little at the proclamation. He had laid his plans, but the mindcoil of Minas Morgul might be stronger than he knew. It would not sway Golodir into Mordirith's command once more, but it might leave him confused and Corunir in charge.

"Let us hope you stay the captain. I have no love for command." He felt the presence of the wraith looming near, steeled himself, and began his act anew. "He will not frighten me! I will stay strong for you, father!"

As he was pulled away, he saw Golodir turn and put a hand to his face. Father though he may be by heart, it was never Corunir's habit to address him such. In this, he would know all was well and the scheme was alive. Now, the empty sachet lay abandoned on the floor. Corunir smiled. Even if that acrid scent filled the air, and the potion's fumes soaked the room, they had their defense.

Gothmog had underestimated him. It would never pay to trap such a prisoner in the herb stores of Minas Ithil. Whatever the trial, he and Golodir would face it with their minds free.

[find-the-path]

Fun wip game!

Fires in the North - Lord of the Rings Online fic centered on Aderthor & Corunir in Angmar, a region dominated by the False-king and blocked off from the rest of Eriador. Amathan & Lastadron crash the party from the North Downs by getting past the Ram Dúath barricade, and the four of them travel deeper into Angmar in search of the Lost Company. Aderthor, Amathan, and Lastadron are all OCs, and the first two are long-lost brothers. Corunir is a character from LOTRO.

lighter the more it gets dark - Star Wars Prequel/Original fic starring post-Order 66 Feemor and the gaggle of kids he got out of the Temple. Kids are all OCs.

The tower of Ages - Lord of the Rings/LOTRO fic. Lehtion follows Eldacar from Rhovanion to Gondor, particularly Calenardhon, during the Kinstrife. Centuries later during the War of the Ring, Lehtion returns to Calenardhon and finds a nation of horse-lords sprung up in his absence, along with a foolhardy minstrel who has decided to be a hero. Lehtion & Aharan are both OCs.

Demonstrably Haunted - LOTRO short fic, feat. the Rangers of Ithilien fooling the orcs that the ruins of Haerondir are infested with ghosts with tricks and eerie-sounding horns. And then they acquire a ghost. No OCs.

"kick-in-the-pants" writer's game!

Rules:

Reblog this post and put the names/working titles of your wips in either the tags or your reblog. (You may add a brief bio/ship name/any other info if desired)

Your followers can send you the name of one of the wips in an ask, and are welcomed and encouraged to send multiple.

For each wip title you recieve, work for a five minute sprint on writing that wip!

Respond to their ask with one of your favorite lines you wrote during that sprint!

(to encourage community spirit, it is suggested to send an ask to the person you reblogged it from, and whoever reblogs it from you)

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

if you take submissions, may I offer my favorite status effect in the game? (he's worried)

Yes!

[find-the-path]

Fires in the North! You had my attention at the word “Corunir”

(for this ask game)

It is probably the oldest of the wips I mentioned, but is very loose for now as I haven't been focusing on writing this year as much as past ones. Structure is the problem with it now, so that was what I worked on for the sprint. Here's a snippet :D

The dwarves’ camp sat atop an outcrop of Nan Gurth, set between two Iron Crown roads that never bothered to investigate the lonesome-looking cliff. On one side, the swamps of Imlad Balchorth lay beyond a sickly sweet-smelling fog. On the other, sheer darkness blended with the black stoniness of Angmar.

The dwarves had named it Myrkworth, in honor of the view.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

guys I'm literally gonna cry this is so cute. I was about to log off Ethedis but had her /kiss Corunir one last time before moving servers AND THAT WAS THE LAST ONE SHE NEEDED FOR THE HIDDEN DEED

the timing was literally perfect, she's never taking off this title

[loremastering]

narmeleths won the poll! thanks to those who voted for helping me decide <3 

[corunir]

felt cute, might almost die trying to cross Rammas Deluon again later

[a-lonely-dunedain]

THREE OF THEM!! <3

reblog to give a plushie to the person you reblogged this from

[lotro-quest-objectives]

Give Corunir a big Hug

[poetry-draws]

Lorniel lives Au where she gets to go to the midsummer fest and hang out with Corunir ;-; (yes I am still sad from just doing Those Quests)

Lorniel lives and coordinated her outfit with Corunir (and cut out the shoulders of her own dress)