#edhellen

[tragedykery]

everybody say thank you elfdict.com

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Sindarin ‘maed’ stems from Quenya ‘maitë’ (of a similar meaning, also meaning ‘hand, handed’ as a suffix e.g., Angrod’s epessë ‘Angamaitë’ meaning iron-handed). So yes, the pun holds up under in-universe scrutiny as well.

Honestly I have so many feelings about Maedhros being a mash up of his mothers name for him, and his brothers’ nick name for him, rather than just a Sindran alternative to his Quenya name, because it means his brothers were just yelling OI REDHEAD! All of the time, like in the heat of battle Celegorm is just like HEY GINGER CAN YOU STAB THIS GUY FOR ME! With enough frequency the Sinda just actually thought it was his name. Which is actually just peak sibling.

Plus it makes his name basically mean attractive redhead which is EQUALLY funny

[unyearn]

GIRL YOU STUDY QUENYA???????????

i do!

[elesianne]

Some resources for Silmarillion fic writers, artists, and general enthusiasts, 2023 version

I made a new version of this post since the old one now has some dead links .

The Silmarillion, full text by chapters - the thing itself.

Laws and Customs of the Eldar, full text from The History of Middle-earth: Morgoth's Ring. This essay written by J.R.R. Tolkien, with commentary by Christopher Tolkien, includes information on the elven life cycle and marriage, roles of men and women, Noldor naming customs, the fëa and hröa, death and rebirth, and the complex matter of Finwë & Míriel & Indis. Whether you want to write ‘LaCE’-compliant fic or not, it’s interesting reading.

The Silmarillion Writers' Guild Biographies are great, comprehensive summaries of what Tolkien wrote about a particular character, complete with quotations and references, with some commentary. They’re written by many different contributors so they differ from one another but all are useful when you want to learn about a character. (Older version, characters listed alphabetically)

Henneth Annun character bios contain less commentary but there are lots of them, including for minor characters, from the Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, The Hobbit and LotR. Bios include facts and quotes about the characters.

Heraldic devices of Silmarillion (and LotR) characters, including heraldic rules among Elves etc. Some are copied from Tolkien’s original drawings while others have been drawn based on descriptions in the books.

Timelines for the events of the Silmarillion on Tolkien Gateway which cannot possibly be accurate for all of Tolkien’s conflicting versions, but they are still a very useful resource

Arms and Armours of the Eldar is a comprehensive list of quotations from Tolkien’s works concerning all things physically offensive and defensive.

Parf Edhellen Dictionary of Tolkien’s languages gathers definitions from multiple other sites. Easy to use.

RealElvish.net Name lists are an excellent resource for finding a name for your OC.

Please note that I cannot guarantee the security or accuracy of any of these websites.

[runawaymun]

so.. reading and looking at your fics and art kinda makes me wanna try my hand at some stuff too (they are just so beautiful and elicit so many feels), but. you seem so knowledgeable and familiar with tolkien/elves lore (and so does everyone else i've started reading in this community of elf-lovers on tumblr haha) and i'm most assuredly not. i don't get so many of the world-building allusions authors make about the history/culture/magic, which is easy enough to deal with when reading, but do you think i'd be able to write anything good with such limited understanding of the world i'm writing in? i'm not even confident enough for modern au's because idek that much about the character's relationships/connections with each other, y'know? but what do you think? would the holes i have or straight up inaccuracies rly weaken the story and interrupt the reader's connection to the world/character's, or could i still get by? tolkien's worldbuilding is so intimidating lol

Oh my goodness, this is such a sweet ask.

I'm really glad that you love my art and writing so much, and I consider it SUCH a huge compliment that it inspires you to make your own! That's what it's all about, honestly.

So first off I just want to address the anxiety around the lore-knowledge and the Tolkien fandom because listen listen listen, there are people of every level of knowledge creating art and fics here. Let me just say that when I first published And the Stars Shine the Same three years ago, I was mostly working off of film knowledge and some vague book knowledge, and I was petrified to post it because of how intimidating the Tolkien fandom seemed. I was so worried about getting this wrong and making mistakes -- so know that you're not alone in that, and it is a very common anxiety in this fandom. The thing is, when I posted that fic I found that people loved it, and that everyone was so nice, and really I have not had anybody (save maybe...one person off the top of my head) get very nitpicky about the lore/language/etc. Everybody else was very nice, loved the fic, and super receptive and friendly.

I promise you that there are so many lovely people in this fandom and that, while they're extremely knowledgeable they're also so friendly. Nearly everybody I know would be delighted if you came into their inbox and asked them a question about their specific area of interest with regards to the Silm and LOTR. There are amazing resources in this fandom, and everybody is very happy to help when asked. When I was getting started I mostly talked to friends, looked at other fanart (because honestly there is a LOT of information packed into how people portray characters in fanart for this fandom), and when I wasn't sure on something I just checked the wikis. I believe Tolkien Gateway is one of the best resources, though I also use The One Wiki to Rule Them All, and this is one of the best resources I've found for just a quick look at common Sindarin phrases, and for everything else I use Parf Edhellen which is an incredibly comprehensive dictionary for Tolkien's various elvish languages. And if you're not sure on something, just send a call out into the void because there are dozens of besties on Tumblr who are happy to offer suggestions for names or phrase translations. There's also so much information on Youtube.

I didn't even get around to reading the Silm and rereading LOTR until I felt like it. Honest to god I looked at the wikis and asked friends for most of the stuff I needed.

And I know how intimidating it can be to build your own story within Tolkien's world, but for me what I liked so much about his work is that--- while he is specific on some things, he's also very vague on others. There is a lot of room for interpretation and your own headcannons and worldbuilding. That was part of why I chose the historical spot I did for Stars and Boundless Sky, because it was sort of "dead space" so to speak with regards to Tolkien's own worldbuilding, and so I was able to play around and do my own thing without worrying too much about stepping all over lore.

But okay, all of that to say: yes you can write good stories without being super knowledgeable. Please believe me you can. You can write whatever you want, so long as you love it, and it is yours. If you have a story you want to tell in Tolkien's little legendarium then please, please do. Tolkien's legendarium is a mythology, and mythologies are meant to be retold and reinterpreted. Tolkien's canon is incredibly loosy-goosey. There are parts of unfinished tales where Christopher Tolkien wrote: "I really couldn't make sense of my dad's notes, so here's everything. Knock yourself out ig" (notably, "Of Galadriel and Celeborn").

And Peter Jackson was fairly faithful when it comes to the og trilogy. Like there are things that I take issue with that are pet peeves of mine, and I know that's the same for a lot of people as well. Everybody has their things they take umbrage with and things they like, but generally if that's your base for knowledge you're going to be just fine to start writing fic. If you decide you want to research more, then that's up to you and the story you are trying to tell! If you're working off of the Hobbit films, that's a little different, but in general the Hobbit fandom is pretty chill when it comes to that. I would suggest reading the book if you can find the time to. It's an easy read and short, and it is very, very different to the films.

With the LOTR books...I know a lot of people are book purists and that's okay, and a lot of people go "oh you really SHOULD read the books", but tbqh as a lover of both, I think the films do a good job of telling you the heart of the story (barring a few characters like...uh. Elrond, whom PJ absolutely butchers, but I digress sorry sorry). The books do add a lot and deepen the meaning for a lot of things, and flesh a lot of characters out (and they're just fun to read), but again... yes you can write good stories without being super knowledgeable. I will say that over and over again nonnie I am grabbing you by the shoulders and looking you dead in the eye: please write your story if you want to. Please do not be afraid to just give it a stab. If you find that your lack of knowledge is holding you back for some reason, just ask! So many people will be happy to answer your questions.

Fanfiction is for everybody. Tolkien is for everybody. You do not have to be the most incredible skilled writer or know the lore really well to be able to write it. Please believe me as a person who was scared to write for the Tolkien fandom and then fell in love: people really do not gatekeep much, and if they do they're assholes. I have met so many lovely, friendly, genuine people by creating stuff for this fandom. You will be okay.

So...ough this got long, sorry. But TLDR: Yes. You can write a good story. If you are worried about holes/the story/characterization getting weakened, try to find a beta reader. They're absolute life-savers. Barring that, start posting, find a friend who as insane about your blorbos as you are, and then share snippets and plot ideas with them and within that kind of community you can get a feel for what's working in your story and what isn't. All of my best friends I have made on here are people who read my fics and have been so helpful in offering suggestions.

There are many resources, everybody is friendly, it is not as scary as it looks. The most important thing is that you have fun. Write what you want to write. It doesn't have to be good. All that matters is that you enjoy it.

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 3 - A finite deal

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

third chapter synopsis: After being bitten by a warg, after almost dying, something changed. Something evolved. Things can't stay the same forever. You just didn't imagine they would change so fast. Or that Thranduil was as bad with goodbyes as you. [3K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug. a lot of blood.

glossary: Lossëistar: Ice Mage┆Mithrandir: Grey Pilgrim┆Fovren: Fool┆Maenwë: Clever girl┆Pedig edhellen: Do you speak elvish?┆Dôl gîn lost: Your head is empty┆Qenta Eldalien: History of the Elves┆Novaer: Farewell┆Mellon: Friend

Blood seeped into the wooden flooring. It ran down the table legs, dripped from its corners, and gave a new color to the brown floor. The healer’s hands, crushing seeds and heating saps for the ointment, stained everything with a scarlet mark.

In the corner of the room, frozen in time, Thranduil found himself impotent. There was nothing he could do. Nothing but watch. And so he did.

He saw when the healer ripped the arm of your blood-soaked dress. The Elvenking saw your shoulder ligaments. The chewed meat of your arms. The damaged veins. The unconscious tremors. Thranduil saw your lifeless face, your colorless lips, your paralyzed body.

He took you to a healer, but how difficult it is to differentiate it from a slaughterhouse.

Luthien took the warm fabric off your shoulder. She left them aside, holding the bowl with ointment, and poured it onto the bite.

A convulsion gripped your body. The tremors would have knock you off the table if Luthien had not caught you. A pained moan scratched your throat, but your mouth was still closed. Your eyes moved under closed lids. Your fingers writhing in agony did nothing but bruise the skin of your own palm.

“What are you doing to her?” The Elvenking demanded. He seemed to double in size.

She took the needle, dipped it in what was left of the ointment, and sewed it to your skin. With each movement the more you squirmed. “I am saving her, fovren.”

If the Elvenking sought her out, then he must be smart enough not to take offense. Luthien held you in place, sewed you up, cleaned you. When she was done, Luthien wrapped your shoulder in clean bandages.

“When will she wake up?” Thranduil stepped closer. His fingers ghosted over your closed fist, but he could not dare to touch you. He looked at Luthien.

The lack of an answer shivered him.

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Two days are nothing in the life of an elve. Still, such a short amount of time seemed endless for Thranduil. Hours stretched, the next one never approaching. Thranduil remained patient.

Lady Aerin, however, could not afford to be patient. Not anymore. 

She always knew you would wake up. Aerin never doubted that. She knows you are stronger than you look. Not only that: Aerin knows how stubborn you can be. You will die on your own terms. She is certain of that.

What she cannot do is ignore that the Elvenking is still there. Is to lie to herself that in the next hour he will finally get bored and travel back home. Is to pretend not to understand that Thranduil cares.

So Aerin wrote for Gandalf.

She wrote about the Elvenking stay at the inn. About that blasted dam. About that look on his face, how his eyes followed you since the moment he first saw you. Aerin wrote about the attack. About your condition. Your unconsciousness. And when she finally had courage to do so, Aerin wrote about the warg.

Aerin knew where to address the letter. In her office, preparing the bird to carry her message, if only she knew what was happening on the other side of the inn Aerin would have added a few lines to the letter. But she was not there, and the letter flying towards Gandalf missed substantial information: you had finally awakened.

Scared, aching, somehow still tired: but awake. Your eyes took a while to work, to show you the ceiling of your room. You remembered running down an embankment, wheat leaves tickling your arms, a howl. The warg. You understood why you felt a pressure on your shoulder. And why you smelled like blood.

And despite all those hurtful memories, all the pain you were feeling, a smile still made a way into your face. You survived a warg. How many people can say that? You survived. Somehow you always do that. 

The peace of your realization ended when your bedroom door opened.

“Master Elrond will surely be grateful, your grace. He already is,” Gildor whispered. “But this is not your realm. You do not have any obligation with us. Why take the risk?”

Silence took place after his words. When you thought maybe you were alone again, a velvet voice made a way into your ears. “I am becoming kind.”

“Annihilating that nest was kind enough, your grace,” said Gildor.

“It was not,” Thranduil’s tone went lower. His voice was still sharp, a mere choice away from a disguised offense, but it sounded like he was talking to himself more than anything else. “It was about pride. This is about being noble.”

Before you could understand what that conversation was about, Gildor’s surprised gasp shut Thranduil.

“Maenwë,” Thranduil whispered. It felt just like velvet.

“Still do not know that one”, your own voice surprised you. It was tiring, rough, hoarse. So different from your usual playful, light tone.

“Clever.” Thranduil walked across the room, never taking his eyes off yours. Gildor was no more there. The discussion no longer existed. The world could have burned to ashes and the ashes scattered by the wind and he would not have noticed. “It means clever.”

You laughed. Or you tried, since the pain it caused made you cough. What just hurt you more. “Of course it means,” you murmured. “I still have an arm, right?”

“You... You do, maenwë. You do not feel it?” Thranduil somehow remembered that Gildor was there. “Find Luthien.”

You looked at your shoulder again, forcing your other arm to pull the blanket off your torso. Nothing was missing. “Just to be sure,” you responded. You leaned on the bed, trying to sit up.

Thranduil understood your intentions. He touched your arm, cold fingers raising goosebumps on your skin. “Stay,” Thranduil whispered. You had no energy to disagree. “How does it feel?”

“I have been through worse,” you smirked. As your words faded away, the truth escaped. “I thought I was dying.”

“You slept for two days.” You imagined it was his way to say: ‘So did I ’. 

Thranduil’s hands found something on your bedside table. You heard water splashing. His hands returned to your field of vision with a glass of water. “I cannot hold it.”

Thranduil set the glass on the bedside table and moved closer. You could feel his heat. The ghost of his touch still linger on your arm. “Can I?”

Without really understanding what he meant, you nodded.

Thranduil lowered the blanket to your waist. You felt his hand slide across the mattress and fit behind your back. His palm heated your sore skin. You lifted your head when he tried to place his other hand beneath it. Calmly, very carefully, Thranduil helped you to sit down.

“Your skin is so warm,” the Elvenking murmured. He touched your forehead, his contact lasted for a few seconds. “But not feverish.”

You sighed. Everything aches. Every single part of your body. But when Thranduil touched you… It felt a little bit better. Just a little bit.

Then he grabbed the glass and brought it close to your face. You could feel your body heating. Be helped to drink a glass of water. There was something so sweet about it. To help someone conclude such a simple, mundane task. And to do it simply because you are close enough to.

The world is a horrible place. So ill-formulated, uneven, indifferent. It is a place filled with horrible creatures, corrupted humans, malevolent diseases. It is a place where an inevitable darkness hides in the light, where evil deceives the good, where innocent lives perish simply because the world moves on.

But the world is also the only place where you can smell the rain. Where you can eat sweet strawberries. Where you can feel leaves tickling your skin. Where you can dance. Where you can quench the thirst of those who need help.

You leaned in, extinguishing the distance, silently allowing him to help you. Allowing a king to serve you.

“Thank you, your grace” you whispered.

“You should not thank me,” Thranduil’s words made you blink. “I hope one day you can forgive me, maenwë. You gave me your trust, and I was not able to defend you.”

You chuckle. It burned your throat, but you were getting used to the pain. “I am pretty sure you killed a warg.”

“Not before it could bite you.”

Thranduil blamed himself. He blames himself for not being able to protect you, someone he knew for a few days. Not even a week has passed since you both first met. ‘You slept for two days.’ Did he really thought you would die?

A king is apologizing to you. Thranduil killed a warg, found someone to heal you, but for him it was still not enough. You wonder if  you would feel the same in his place.

 “Teach me elvish,” you said.

“What?”

“Teach me elvish and I shall forgive you.” With a lot of effort, you were able to move your good arm and reach out to him. You heard steps from the hallway, people were coming to see you. “And a new dress. I have a personal preference for violet.”

Thranduil stared at your hand. He heard no anger in your voice. Not an ounce of regret or hate.

He held your hand. “Deal.”

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Your routine for the next few days was simple. Someone brings you food when it is time to, Aerin helps you with your bath, Luthien examines you every morning.

You knew Luthien before, but never really stopped to talk to her. Now, without further choice, you discovered that she is a great healer and the best at gossip.

And for the rest of the day you do nothing on your bed. You cannot read, as your head throbs still. And since walking requires a gigantic effort, looking out for someone to talk to is not a option.

Except for the nights.

“Pedig,” repeated Thranduil. This time he slowed down. “Edhellen .”

Sitting in an armchair in front of your bed, Thranduil had two books in his hand. Reading from one of them, his velvet voice never was so treacherous. It is harder to understand his accent than from the elves of Rivendell.

You took a deep breath. “Pedi edellen.”

“One more time,” the Elvenking encouraged you. “Pedig edhellen.”

Your face was already burning. It was so embarrassing to barely learn a language in front of someone. A few people have tried to teach you elvish, but you never stood still for long enough. “Pedig… edhellen.”

“I knew you had it in you,” Thranduil’s words were sweet, but you saw his smile turn into a smirk. Thranduil was amused by your difficulty.

“Do not mock me. What does it mean?”

“‘Do you speak Elvish?’” Thranduil could not contain his playful smile.

Those teaching sessions were already routine. Thranduil comes after dinner, and stays until one of you wants to sleep. He usually is the one to say goodbye. There is a sense of freedom that comes at night that no one wants to let go. So, even when you are tired, you try not to show it. Just so it can last a little longer.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes. “Teach me how to swear.” 

Thranduil closed the book, the dry thud embarrassed you. “Maenwë,” there it was. The strong accent. It fades when he speaks in common, but it shines again whenever he gets back into his native language. “What will people think?”

You straightened the pillows behind you and clasped your hands in your lap. “Indulge me.”

“As you wish,” Thranduil sighed, but you knew he was entertained. “Dôl gîn lost.”

“Dôl gîn lost”, you repeated.

Thranduil stands up and moves towards your bed. “At the first try,” that made you smirk. “What does that say about you, maenwë?”

You pouted. “That I have a natural talent for linguistics?”

Thranduil held one of the books out to you. “There is a chance.”

It was heavy, old, you could smell the aged pages. Leafing through it, you saw elvish in golden handwriting. But you also saw your own language on it. On every couple of pages there was different engraving, all so beautiful. You sniffed it.

 “Try reading this once a day,” he told you. “It is a collection of myths.”

You slid your finger across one of the drawings that caught your eye. Even on dry pages the blond hair is still so alive. “Qenta Eldalien.”

That surprised Thranduil. History of the elves. A natural talent perhaps.

“You forgot to tell me,” you shouted when you noticed that he was leaving. Thranduil held the doorknob and turned to you. “What does that mean? Dôl gîn lost?”

“Your head is empty,” Thranduil smirked. You sighed. “Sleep well, maenwë.”

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Warm water trickled down your body. Aerin dipped the sponge in the water before running it over your skin. She ran that soft sponge over your back.

Things were not normal. The bite scar on your shoulder would never go away. The pain when stretching your arm would last forever. The time spent in bed would never be recovered. You are not back to normal, but it is a good thing.

Fear that nothing will survive. Fear that something will. Change is terror, change is craving. Part of you wish nothing bad had ever happened to you. The other smiles when waking up every morning. You survived. Nothing will change that.

Watching the golden leaves falling through the cracked window, you had a new experience. Without realizing, you open your mouth and a melody comes out.

Back in your room, wrapped in a warm towel, you noticed something new. A fabric stretched over it. Violet. So thin it felt like holding flour. So soft. You almost felt bad for touching it, for being unable to keep it pure as it is now.

When you asked for a dress, you thought Thranduil would get you something like the one damaged by the warg. Neutral, of resistant fabric, for those who need to walk and to work. The kind of dress that the wearer does not care if it gets dirty.

This is not a dress for someone that works with horses. For someone that gets muddy. For someone that runs, that likes the feeling of almost falling, that often passes through trees and animals. This is not a dress made for someone like you.

You wore it without thinking twice.

“You were singing”, Aerin sat on your bed.

You admired yourself in the mirror. “Was I?” You caressed the fabric. So soft.

“I never heard you singing before.” Aerin stared at all the fine fabrics together over your body. “And I know you for almost a year.”

“Fourteen months,” you corrected her. You never did something like that before.

“Oh.”

You said nothing while getting dressed. You have never done anything like this before. To correct her. Never. When you turned towards Aerin, choosing between pretending that nothing happened or apologizing, you realized she had left you alone.

You were unsure of what to do. You went through the inn, walking without purpose. Feeling suddenly alone, you walked out of the inn to see the horses again.

You just did not imagined that everyone wanted to do the same. All the elves who came from Mirkwood were out there with their mounts. Within seconds, your surprise turned into realization. They wore their armor. This was no coincidence. They were leaving.

You ran to the stable, trying not to be trampled by horses, searching for him. There you saw the gigantic elk. And you saw Thranduil mounting it.

“You are leaving?” Your breath was a mess. “You did not even said goodbye.”

Thranduil hoped you were still sleeping. Or that you were busy not to noticed the noisy from outside the inn. How he hoped he would never see you again.

He did not wished for a last memory. For a goodbye. Thranduil feared the sour taste in his mouth. He wanted to go remembering you swearing in a language you do not really understand. Thranduil wanted to spend his days imagining if you liked the dress, not to see you in it. To see your braided hair.

Now how will he forget this?

Thranduil cannot stay. Thranduil should have went back to Greenwood a week ago. Thranduil has responsibilities, lifes to care about, a realm to rule. He should not be here. Thranduil may not know a lot, but he knows when it is time to go. “It is good to see you well, maenwë.” 

You blinked. That is all he had to say? You tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did not say goodbye,” you repeat yourself.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he lied. Guiding his elk, Thranduil passed through you. He looked away first. “Goodbye, maenwë. Farewell.”

That is all he had to say. Goodbye. Farewell. You watched him, so aware of how you must look. A pretty braid, a fancy dress, a cruel deception. That is how a fool is supposed to look? And all he had to say was goodbye.

You walked. Ran. Outside the stable, you saw him organizing the small army. You walked up to him, not caring if he was speaking. If he wants to pretend that is enough, if for him it is enough, then Thranduil can live with that. But it is not enough for you. 

If he is going to leave, if you will never see each other again, let it be done correctly. “Novaer,” you licked your lips. Farewell. You hesitated, searching for the right word. “Mellon.” Friend.

Embarrassed, you turned back to the inn. You walked towards it, aware he would see if you runned. By the time you locked yourself in your room tears streamed down your face. Hidden behind the curtains, you watched him go.

Thranduil did not looked back. Or else he would not be able to go forward. That night, you slept hugging your new book. That night, Thranduil slept thinking about how you could not say mellon correctly even if your life depended on it.

[Forth Chapter]

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[talonabraxas]

"Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen." (Gate of the Elves, open now for me) The Doors of Durin "La Porta Celeste" Talon Abraxas

[edennill-archived]

@nerdy-catfish, sorry for treating you as the resident elvish linguistics expert, but what would I get if I wanted to phonologically reverse engineer a Quenya name from Edrahil (meaning obscure, so translation is not an option)?

(Also Enedir tbh, because the character was once called Enedrion and I've decided to repurpose it as a patronymic — ner = dir, presumably, but the rest is equally obscure, at least according to Parf Edhellen)

[seeking-elsewhither]

Looking up the word 'shoot' in Parf Edhellen and the fact that most translations of the word are variations on 'shoot as in bud of a plant' instead of 'shoot as in to kill' is making me unnecessarily emotional.

[asexualowlbear]

One of my favorite things to think about is what would academia look like in a modern day fantasy world.

Just imagine magic academics being like:

Guys please stop killing the dragons. They are an apex predator and it sends the ecosystem into ruin.

I’m teaching a class on the thermodynamics of the fireball spell.

I think the knowledge god would prefer my primary source to your secondary source

Here’s my paper, “A study of ROS production via cellular respiration of homo sapien communis, homo sapien edhellen, and homo sapien khazâd”

[lesbiansforboromir]

What are your ocs's names meaning? Did you use Parf Edhellen?

You would think the mention of the tolkien linguistic website would narrow down which ocs anon is talking about but there are still so many of them from just lotro.

If you meant Sataro and Vekna then they're from my DM's own homebrew world... however admittedly they are kind of the 'au' version of some 😂 tolkien ocs. Satarŏ is actually an amalgamation from the partially conlanged primitive elvish, as in the pre-quenya language of the elves at Cuivienen, that vaguely means steadfast/trustworthy/loyal, and morphed into Sarte (quenya) later. In the character's original tolkien canon it was more of an epessë that she became known as in her early life, but Sarte was the name she carried forward into Valinor and the first age. I did not use parf edhellen, although it's a good site, I use Eldamo mostly since it's just a blank searchable database for all the efforts of the tolkien conlanging community and is the one most readily updated.

If you meant to ask for the meanings to ALL my OC's names, as in all of Sarte's (known as Hravanis by most by the third age) names AND all the names of my other tolkien oc's, let me know but that'll be a very long answer lmao

[imjustexistingtbh]

does anyone know if there's an elvish word for planet? i tried searching it up on parf edhellen but it didn't come up with anything.

if not, may i suggest "gilran" from gil (S) meaning star and ran (S) meaning wanderer, as planets are like stars that wander through the night sky throughout the year

[hazelmaines]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @conundrumoftime @wyrd-syster @myfavouritelunatic for tagging me! I loved reading your answers :)

How many works do you have on AO3? 15

What's your total AO3 words count? 266,208 

What fandoms do you write for? The Rings of Power; I also have some older HP fics on AO3. 

What are your top five fics by kudos? Just What I Needed (WIP, E, Haladriel Bible Camp AU); The Chain (WIP, M, Haladriel Canonverse AU); Whatever It Is (One-Shot, E, Haladriel Modern AU, Mind the Tags/CWs); The Bargain (WIP, E, Saurondriel Canonverse AU); The Law Is Reason (One-Shot, E, Haladriel A/B/O Lawyers AU)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, I try to always respond, but then I often don’t succeed at that. I like to say “thank you” when I can and I love getting comments so it feels nice to say thanks. But if I ever fail to reply to comments please know how much I appreciate them and how happy it makes me that anyone else enjoys what I write! It’s so fun to share. 

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It doesn’t have its ending yet but probably The Bargain. It’s … a weird story that’s headed to weird places. That symbiote snippet I posted a while back? Yeah, that's where The Bargain gets these idiots.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ooh, I’ll pick a completed one and say The Law Is Reason (Free From Passion).  

Do you get hate on fics? I haven’t yet, but I have been appalled at the disgusting harassment members of my fandom have experienced on AO3 and elsewhere. It’s really sad and gross. The amount of abuse my fellow Haladriel/Saurondriel writers have endured is absolutely abhorrent and wrong.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah, I think most of my fics include smut. I have written an Aronwyn/Haladriel foursome, one of if not the first Bronwyndriel-without-the-guys fics on AO3, multiple rounds of Haladriel virginity loss, random gratuitous smut, and Omegaverse smut. 

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written? Nope! 

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of, but I’ve definitely seen it happen to varying degrees, and it’s another one of those things that makes me shake my fist at the clouds about the internet. 

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Such an honor … although I only wish I could read the translator’s work in their language, which alas, I definitely cannot. But ALSO, I have a fic that's being podficced and I literally cried with joy the first time I listened to the first chapter.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I haven’t! I have done loads of brainstorming and “yes-and”-ing with writing pals though and that’s so fun and creatively rewarding.  

What's your all time favourite ship? It’s fucking Sauron and Galadriel, guys. It just is. I can’t. I wasn’t built to withstand TROP Season 1 without becoming permanently damaged and fully unhinged for this ship of doom. 

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Errrr … yeah, I do, and it annoys me because I want to read the story. It’s a Drarry AU I started probably 12 years ago featuring Amnesia!Harry and Psychiatrist!Draco. 

What are your writing strengths? Feelings. Porn with feelings. Banter.

What are your writing weaknesses? Action. Plot. Really need to figure out how to plot, and then, you know, do it. I prefer to vibe and chill with the characters, which is why I have a bunch of vibes-y one-shots and then some really long WIPs that have some serious question marks left on their outlines.  

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? When it’s incorporated smoothly, it can be really nice, but I don’t do it much, because I am not fluent in any of the languages my characters speak. Parf Edhellen is my bestie.

First fandom you wrote for? Uhhh it may have been some accidental semi-RPF back in the day in a composition book while I was in junior high. First online-published fandom? Harry Potter, like every other millennial of a certain age.  

Favourite fic you've ever written? Whaaaat no, how do I choose? I love them all in different ways. My favorite non-TROP fic: Drarry Forever. It's so cute. I loved writing it and I love reading it. My favorite TROP canon AU: The Chain. It's very much my exercise in "writing what I think TROP should have done instead" and there are parts that always give me chills. My favorite modern AU: Just What I Needed. It's the most personal story I have going and it's so much fun to write!

This was really fun! I think many of my friends have done it already but whoever wants to play...please do! I love hearing friends talk about their writing! <3

[ao3feed-steve-eddie]

by alittleoff

It seems like Eddie doesn’t want his friendship anymore. Avoids him in the halls and cafeteria, but Steve is nothing if not persistent. He writes a full letter in elvish to slip into Eddie’s locker, but Eddie catches him. Shoves the letter back, unopened, unread, with a harsh whispered, “Don’t you get it Harrington? I don’t want to be your friend. Fuck off.”

Steve and Eddie were best friends who make a promise to learn the elvish alphabet so that they can pass notes without worrying about other people reading them. Things don't work out how they'd planned, but Steve learns Elvish anyway. Just in case.

Words: 2608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Learns Tolkien Elvish, Steve Harrington Has Read LOTR, A lot of times actually, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Confident Bisexual Steve Harrington, Mentions of Steve Harrington/Others and Steve Harrington/Nancy, Steve Harrington Has Okay Parents, They're absent but they love him, Period-Typical Homophobia, Eddie Munson has internalized homophobia, Period-Typical Slurs, Steve Harrington-centric, Steve becomes the world's leading expert on elvish and doesnt even know it, he can write faster in elvish than he can english at this point, Originally Posted on Tumblr

[eilinelsghost]

Hi - I hope you’re doing well!

I was wondering about the etymology for Sídhon’s name. I can tell you’ve done great research on the Elvish languages while writing Atandil. What does Sídhon mean?

(I use both Tolkien Gateway and elfdict.com in my Quenya and Sindarin studies, which have helped me find the etymologies for several of your OCs, but not Sídhon).

Sure! Aw, Sídhon my beloved. I assumed he'd be sort of an "extra" when he first showed up (a name drop here or there, not a ton of actual interaction) but he had other plans and is now thoroughly present.

His name doesn't have a really complex meaning or anything. It's basically just "peace". It draws from two elements: sîdh (a Sindarin reconstruction/gloss on Parf Edhellen) and then just the standard -on name ending slapped on after it to round it out.

I cannot emphasize enough how little effort I put into this poor guy's name 😂 However, I am attempting to make up for it now by holding him very gently and close to my heart.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[mossesmoth]

My practice in traslation to sindarine

Кома—flëur

Original:

Есть в близости каждой предвестники смерти

Увядшие листья поникшие ветви

Погасшие взгляды безвольно упавшие в руки

Ты ещё говоришь но теряется ясность

И меня поглощает тяжёлый и вязкий

Туман сквозь который с трудом пробиваются звуки

Всюду пепел и дым я не вижу уже ничего

Лишь щемящие кадры того что уже не вернётся

И надо мною в небе парит не спеша

Белый гигантский шар что когда-то был солнцем

Eng:

There are in the vicinity of each harbingers of death:

the withered leaves, drooping branches,

extinguished eyes, hands fallen limply …

You’re still talking, but lost the clarity

I absorb heavy and viscous

fog, through which barely punched sounds …

Throughout the ash and smoke, I do not see nothing

Only wrenching footage of

it will not come back …

And above me in the sky hovering slowly

White giant ball,

that was once the sun

Edhellen:

Ebgenyn ngurth na mi elagennad:

Gelais firiel, olf 'wesg,

Glinthad periel, ranc ulainen.

Pedog ena ach lilhar glannod.

Hithu chiw a lung uina nin,

(Hithu) i gorlaton ellaw

Lilth a osp na ilchad, ugenon

Cinon ero haun naegui i udhendondithar allu.

Coron i-ni Anor erlu loda guir ned ell am nin