#elvenhome

[linestyleartwork]

- A Shelter in Rivendell - oils on canvas 80x100 cm.2024

A Shelter in Rivendell - oils on canvas 80x100 cm. My new painting. Finished in time for German Tolkien Days 2024. It will be the main piece of my exhibition there. The original painting and a limited number of fine art prints will be available for sale there. Do you like it? (Music in Video by www.frametraxx.de)

[tenth-sentence]

There they dwelt, and if they wished they could see the light of the Trees, and could tread the golden streets of Valmar and the crystal stairs of Tirion upon Túna, the green hill; but most of all they sailed in their swift ships on the waters of the Bay of Elvenhome, or walked in the waves upon the shore with their hair gleaming in the light beyond the hill.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[ymaohoh]

(don't tell me that Eddie wasn't thinking about this very scene when he met Chrissy alone in the woods)

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hilltop high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name, And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. - 'Song of Beren and Lúthien' from The Fellowship of the Ring. J.R.R. Tolkien

[sindar-princeling]

They were led then to seats beside Faramir: barrels covered with pelts and high enough above the benches of the Men for their convenience. Before they ate, Faramir and all his men turned and faced west in a moment of silence. Faramir signed to Frodo and Sam that they should do likewise.

'So we always do,' he said, as they sat down: 'we look towards Númenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be. Have you no such custom at meat?'

'No,' said Frodo, feeling strangely rustic and untutored. 'But if we are guests, we bow to our host, and after we have eaten we rise and thank him.'

"we have no deep ancient prayer-adjacent rituals we say thank you though 🙂👍"

[cryptwretch]

(one glass of elvish sunwine in) my gods..... im a failure as a sorceress..... i can never return to elvenhome and face my father....... i must needs turn my wand of disintegration upon mine own self..........

[edennill]

I love Tolkien's poem "The Hoard", because it's not about a specific event in the Legendarium; it may not even be entirely accurate to the general mythology -- but you can definitely see it as something written by someone in Middle-Earth, and I love in-universe folklore.

When the moon was new and the sun young of silver and gold the gods sung: in the green grass they silver spilled, and the white waters they with gold filled. Ere the pit was dug or Hell yawned, ere dwarf was bred or dragon spawned, there were Elves of old, and strong spells under green hills in hollow dells they sang as they wrought many fair things, and the bright crowns of the Elf-kings. But their doom fell, and their song waned, by iron hewn and by steel chained. Greed that sang not, nor with mouth smiled, in dark holes their wealth piled, graven silver and carven gold: over Elvenhome the shadow rolled.

This is, more or less, the history of the elder days on a very simplified level! Over Elvenhome the shadow rolled...

[tathrin]

Oh my gods, suddenly going feral over—

Legolas Greenleaf long under tree In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea! If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.

Which, yes, obviously refers to the Sea-longing that came upon him at Pelargir, and of which he later said:

To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voice of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me; For our days are ending and our years are failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing. Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling, Sweet are the voices of the Lost Isle calling, In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!

But of course, we know that he did not pass the wide waters "lonely sailing," for he brought Gimli with him...

Because his heart was in Gimli's keeping by then. After the War of the Ring his heart dwelt in glittering caves under the stones of Rohan; his heart rested in the strong and gentle hands of a dwarf. The very same dwarf who then sailed that Sea with him, and after dwelt beside him in Elvenhome ever-more. It was no longer the forest that held his heart: it was the solid dwarven stone of Gimli's soul.

Fuck.

[actual-bill-potts]

I don’t understand why the most common interpretation of the battle of Finrod and Sauron I see is that Finrod lost because Sauron had the moral high ground, or even because Finrod felt particularly guilty about Alqualondë.

It's certainly possible that Finrod felt some measure of guilt over the First Kinslaying, whether that be for not stopping it, for not turning back with his father, or for being willing to take the ships of his mother's people. You can certainly argue that he had some sort of moral culpability for not taking a stand with Arafinwë, though I personally think that's taking personal responsibility to a rather absurd length given that Finrod neither killed anybody nor actually ever set foot in a stolen ship.

Rather, I think what defeated Finrod was the invocation of despair. Looking at the relevant passage from the Lay of Leithian:

He chanted a song of wizardry, Of piercing, opening, of treachery, Revealing, uncovering, betraying.

Sauron is trying to figure out who they are.

Then sudden Felagund there swaying Sang in answer a song of staying, Resisting, battling against power, Of secrets kept, strength like a tower, And trust unbroken, freedom, escape; Of changing and of shifting shape, Of snares eluded, broken traps, The prison opening, the chain that snaps.

Finrod is saying, "No, I will not tell you who we are," but look at specifically how he does it. He's saying, "everyone with me trusts me, and I trust them. You can't overcome that."

Backwards and forwards swayed their song. Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong The chanting swelled, Felagund fought, And all the magic and might he brought Of Elvenesse into his words. Softly in the gloom they heard the birds Singing afar in Nargothrond, The sighing of the Sea beyond, Beyond the western world, on sand, On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

ok this part always makes me cry cuz it's so beautiful, but more to the point: Finrod is backing up his statement that Sauron cannot recognize them with power. What power? The power of Elvenesse, of Elvenhome: of Elven strongholds. He specifically invokes Nargothrond - a beautiful kingdom, the symbol of friendship between Elves and Dwarves, and more to the point a place of safety for Elves, whose location Morgoth does not know. And then he invokes Alqualondë. Unwise, perhaps; but he is right that Alqualonde was never touched by Morgoth. It was under the protection of Ulmo and also too far for the light of the Trees to be reached, so Morgoth didn't directly harm the Teleri on the day of the Darkening. Finrod is saying, here: even in the hour of his greatest triumph, Morgoth couldn't harm all Elves. Ulmo is on our side. We will always be able to escape.

Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing In Valinor, the red blood flowing Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew The Foamriders, and stealing drew Their white ships with their white sails From lamplit havens. The wind wails, The wolf howls. The ravens flee. The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea. The captives sad in Angband mourn. Thunder rumbles, the fires burn— And Finrod fell before the throne.

To Finrod's argument, Sauron responds: guess what? Morgoth didn't even have to attack the Teleri. The Noldor did that for him. There are no safe places, because the Noldor have set themselves against gods: even if you escape Morgoth, you will fall under the Doom of Mandos. The battle is hopeless, and always will be hopeless. The Noldor are doomed.

Interestingly, he does address Finrod's two points directly. He first points out that even if the Teleri escaped Morgoth, they couldn't escape the malice he had sown among the Noldor. But then he invokes "captives sad in Angband" and "the fires burn," which seems to be a pretty clear reference to the curse laid upon Húrin and the eventual fall of Nargothrond to Glaurung. Sauron is saying: Nargothrond will fall too.

The thing is: he is right. The Teleri were slaughtered. Nargothrond fell. Gondolin fell. Doriath fell. Sirion fell. The Noldor are in a tragedy, and they know it. Finrod knows it, and he cannot argue back.

Of course, the thing that makes The Silmarillion so powerful is that even in Finrod's hour of darkest despair, neither he nor Beren nor his Ten give up their names and their errand. Finrod gives up his life to buy Beren a few more hours; and by his valour the line of Beren and Lúthien was saved, and the Doom of the Noldor lifted.

Endurance beyond hope is a central theme of Tolkien's work, no matter the Age: in Frodo's desperate errand, in Celebrimbor's refusal to give up the Three, and in Finrod's refusal to accept Beren's death no matter the cost. Finrod lost; how could he do otherwise? But even without hope, he kept going. And in the end, he was returned beyond hope to joy: "...Felagund laughs beneath the trees / in Valinor, and comes no more / to this grey world of tears and war."

[starspray]

For the worldbuilding ask Vinyamar and # 17 myths.

Thank you for the prompt!!

.

Among the Men who dwell near the coasts of Middle-earth, stories are told around the hearth of empty cities by the sea, where waves slowly wear away at marvelous palaces and towers, and leave seaweed and pearls scattered over the flagstones. Elven kings once lived there, but they have gone—to where, no one knows. Across the Sea perhaps, back to Elvenhome, or to other more secret places hidden from all mortal eyes.

But it is told also that mortal men have found such cities and learned much there, from hidden libraries or from the Lord of the Deeps himself, who comes to the harbor at twilight when the Evening Star shines brightest over the waters. The great hero and elf friend Tuor came to one such city, it is known, and there found armor and arms made for him, and with them he did many great deeds. Who knows, the tale-tellers say, what else might be lying in wait for those brave enough to go looking?

Young men (and, at times, young women), laughingly challenge each other to go seeking such adventures whenever the tales are told—and, sometimes, some of them do go out, seeking long and far along the coasts. Some come to bustling mortal cities and there seek and find their fortunes. Most find nothing but driftwood and seashells.

Some, though, return with solemn faces, and tales not of elven cities but of an elven voice upon the wind, singing mournful songs in a voice that mingles with the waves.

[enig-og-tro]

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing feet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hilltop high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

He called her by her elvish name,

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinúviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinúviel the elven-fair,

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

[aspenrockymountainhigh]

Legolas, Song of the Sea, The Return of the King, The Field of Cormallen.

"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.

West, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,

The voices of my people that have gone before me?

I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;

For our days are ending and our years failing.

I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.

Long are the waves on the last shore falling,

Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,

In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,

Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!"

#lordoftherings

[prince-of-syne]

He used to walk the woods as free as calling birds

And talked to packs of wolves and roaming cattle herds

He used to count his gems in halls of shining stone

And chalices with stems of gold from Elvenhome

He used to forge the glint of moon into his blades

And Anar's fiery tint for cast-out renegades

They used to string their bows with braids of russet hair

that laid upon their brows in locks that never tear

Twin daggers did they wield that carved a bloody path

That broke upon no shield and feared no aftermath

He used to be a king that always held his own

Brought back on eagle wings and never hence alone

He scatters pearly tears among the crashing waves

In loneliness he kneels o'er half a dozen graves.

Thank you for the poetry ✨✨✨

This might be Maglor but I’m second-guessing

[frodo-with-glasses]

I love the new idea of ask game !

I really like the word "transcendent" a lot (and Frodo is really my favorite characters so if you could do something with that it would be great)

Good luck !

Transcendent

He was no normal hobbit, see He had this elvish quality That always seemed to walk a step beyond

A part of him that seemed above The simple life he’d come to love And for the world of great adventure longed

It could be seen when he'd exceed In word or thought or noble deed In courage, kindness, wisdom; pure and right

The moments sleeping he would lie And those who loved him would descry The faintest but most undeniable light

What was it, friend, that he became In Orodruin’s horrid flame When he grasped the Ring and named it for his own?

What was it, friend, that he’d become When the Quest was said and done That found no rest or healing in his home?

You may call it cruelest fate But perhaps the journey merely waked A seed that since his making had been sown

An anxiousness, a great desire For something greater than the Shire A longing for what he had never known

What thrill! when elvish ship surpassed And left the ocean clear as glass And steered for effervescent evermore

What joy! none else could e’er compare His wand’ring soul completed there When he set foot upon that distant shore

(And all the things he’d ever dreamed Found what they were meant to be In Eressea, in Elvenhome, in Valinor)

WORD ASK GAME!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying

Tune: Walkley

Composer: Neely Bruce

Happy Easter (nearly) to all who celebrate it! Once again we’re breaking from tradition by breaking into Northern Harmony. I thought this tune and this poem would be particularly appropriate to the season: the original words to this tune deal with Jesus’ resurrection, and the motif of sea-journeys in Tolkien’s work has a lot to do with death and resurrection, taking inspiration from sources such as the Voyage of St Brendan and the Old English poem The Seafarer. 

The words come from Legolas’ poem of sea-longing, in which he announces he will cross the sea and travel to Valinor - as he of course eventually did (but not without Gimli!). Metrically this poem is an absolute mess, so I have had to really play fast and loose with the syllables to get regular 11-syllable lines out of it, but I’m really happy with the result. Lyrics, heavily amended, are under the cut.

To Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam flying.

West now, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, O grey ship, do you hear them calling,

Voices of my people now gone before me?

I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;

For our days are ending and our years failing.

I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.

Long, long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

Sweet are the voices on the Lost Isle calling,

In Elvenhome that no man can discover,

Where leaves fall not: land of my people ever!

[princess-ibri]

Honestly, I love lore and I love hearing about your DisneyVerse so anything you are willing to share would be great

Awwww thank you so much! I love sharing it :)

Here, I'll share a little about the Multiverse of the DisneyVerse as I've formatted it xD

The best way to think of it is to picture the Realm of Magic as like, a sea full of water, with the magic being the water and each realm an islsnd floating in it. Each realm is it's own universe by right but it's also part of the larger Multiverse (very Woods Between the Worlds-y but with an Ocean)

(So when Sofia in Sofia the First is flying around seeing the Mystic Isles what she's really seeing is portals into different realms/things that can access those realms)

The two main worlds are Our World (the Disney-fied) verision at least) which basicaly follows our rules of reality and history but has some magic that leaks into it from the realms, and the Everrealm, where all of the Disney Princess movies that don't have an explicit Our World setting (ala Mulan, Hercules, PatF, BatB and Brave) take place.

There are places that link the two, where the borders between them have grown thin and things can leak through into one or the other. Maldonia and Arendelle and Belle's provence in France for example. They all sit on the border of both world (in a wibbly wobbly sort of way) and eventually may get pulled into the Everrealm proper as time passes on.

Then there are are several pocket dimensions that sort of float between those two major realms, brushing up against both of them. Places like Elvenhome, The Spirit World(s), the Plane of the Genies, Wonderland, Giantland, Oz, and Neverland to name a few.

Neverland particular is part of a fairly large sort of leak between Our World and the Everrealm that has resulted in the NeverSea, a nebulous place that houses the Neverland Archipelago, of which Neverland itself is the biggest island, and is directly linked to the portal of the Second Star to the Right. One can get to both Our World and the Everrealm from Neverland.

And besides these theres also a couple other worlds, such as the Anthropomorphic world that Robin Hood, Chicken Little and Zootopia all take place in, and the other Anthropomorphic world that Ducktales, GoofTroop and Mickey Mouse take place in xD

(Did a Mickey Mouse ancestor from said world get summoned into the Everrealm to serve as the apprentice to the Sorcerer Yen Sid? Maaayyybeeee?)

(And House of Mouse, Kingdoms Hearts and the Nightmare Before Christmas worlds are all their own delightful things that i'm not going to touch the fictional metaphysics of with a ten foot poll xD )

So yeah, there's some more DisneyVerse stuff for you, probably more then you wanted but what the heck xD

[whats-in-a-sentence]

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing fleet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hill-top high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinúviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinúviel the elven-fair,

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

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