#eruschildren

[medicter]

For such a man as Boromir of Gondor, accustomed to swallowing his fear and battling forward without quarter or retreat, to find him petrified into stillness was unheard of. And yet, standing before the doors of his dear beloved Aunt Ivriniel’s parlour, Boromir could barely move a muscle. 

The handle taunted him, even as he tried to breathe through this irrational sensation. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was not irrational at all. In fact, he might very well be about to shatter a loving familial bond with but a few choice words. He didn’t want to watch her face, to know her disappointed, perhaps even disgusted. But this was a choice he had made, to tell just one member of his family, a risk but a needed one. 

That reminder was what he needed to reach for the handle, opening the door just enough so that he was visible. An automatic smile appears when he sees her, he can’t help it, he so rarely gets to see his family. “Aunt Ivriniel, are you at leisure to speak a moment? In private.”

CLOSED STARTER ||| @eruschildren

[elesheir]

"Press upon it.” Had it wrought him wholly, this flare of keening pain, then Elessar, king of the Dúnedain, yet spilled ill words from his lips. Sat by old roots of a tree in sun, he felt his heart still lept high in his throat. Beneath sore ribs, it pounded like thunder; his veins roared with blood like a deluge of rain. Relentless had been the Uruks wrongly bold in their numbers, but in arrogance had they managed to strike this brave lord! Breathing deeply, Aragorn studied the wound to his thigh. The skin at its edges laid bloody and sheared. “Firmly,” he breathed to young Amdir, bright of eyes. Afraid he’d hurt him? Come, spare the thought.

@eruschildren, ranger of the north.

[easterlingwanderer]

@eruschildren - Earendil

The man is sitting, calmly, looking up and taking notes.

The man is sitting, calmly, at the hedge of the World, where Ea becomes the Void, his legs dangling outside the confine of reality, looking up and taking notes.

There is nothing to sit over. There is, literally, nothing where he is. He shouldn’t be here.

And yet, here he is.

He is quite a common-looking man. Brown haired, with a plain face, a rather big nose and wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. And yet, he is sitting where no man should be, and... apparently, studying the Void.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed the ship, or either he cares little for it, because he continues his work.

[warriorswithin]

   ❝HOW MANY MORE TIMES DO I NEED TO TELL YOU I AM FINE?❞ Golodir was running low on patience ———— ever since Lorníel passed away he had been... LONELY. Distancing himself from the others, trying to find his acceptance in the middle of all the events that fell on The Grey Company. He could not deny that leaving Angmar behind had done him some good, but the Rangers were WORRIED about him. Especially, Corunir. 

   LOOKING UP, GOLODIR RELEASED A SIGH at the sight of the younger Ranger watching over him as a hawk. Even if he displayed the lack of amusement in his features, his eyes displayed the SHATTERED heart he carried with a never ending grief for his daughter dreadful fate.

   ❝LEAVE ME BE, CORUNIR, I am no longer a child as you can tell,❞ he began, removing his gaze from the other. ❝I merely seek for some time ALONE.❞

( @eruschildren // Corunir. ) 

[aeliell]

After the fall of Arnor and then Arthedain, some of the northern Dúnedain became the Rangers of the North in Evendim. The surviving Dúnedain population of Arnor retreated to the Angle south of Rivendell. In the meantime the southern Dúnedain intermarried more and more with so-called Middle Men, except in some regions (such as Dol Amroth).

secret santa gift for @eruschildren !

[annatarlordofgifts]

Oh darn.

@wandering-maglor && @maedhroswhy && @eruschildren

[ofsirion-blog]

@eruschildren

Argon is Gil’s dad now. Don’t question it.

[houseofdolamroth]

eruschildren

@eruschildren liked for a starter

Dol Amroth was quiet.

Or it was as Imrahil, the eight year old son of Adrahil snuck out of his room where he’d been put to bed little more than an hour before. Dark head peeking around the door, he padded out, barefoot and clad in his night clothes, and once he was certain no one was around, he grinned and began the trek towards the kitchens.

Cook had made some marvelous treats for them, but due to his mischief before dinner, he’d been sent to bed without them, something which he felt was horribly unfair, and a wrong he was now seeking to right. Except, in his quest to get to the kitchen, he didn’t even spot that someone had spotted him.

[sorceryofxstorm-blog]

Of Stars and Storms

[ @eruschildren for Gilraen as we already have a thread with Agandaur and Amdir]

Agandaur's steed stopped in it’s tracks with a low grunt as it’s master pulled the reins, narrowed steel blue gaze piercing through the trees. There was somebody among the trees a little further, he could tell. Attempting to hide, radiating of terror and grief. The Sorcerer tilted his head. Must be a survivor... he had heard orcs kept raiding this region viciously. Let’s see, shall we? he mused, turning Dreadwing and leading it towards the unfortunate stranger’s hiding spot, gloved hand resting on the hilt of massive sword at his side. 

“Show yourself and no harm will come to you” the black numenorean commanded in his deep and menacing voice as he got close enough. 

[wandering-maglor]

“I never thought I’d see you again.” (eruschilren - Argon) (maybe for his verse where he lives and ends up as High King)

Maglor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he stared at the tall figure that stood on the dirt road before him. Every muscle in his body tensed as though preparing to run. 

“Arakáno…” He breathed, his usually fine voice soft and shocked. It seemed like the very air crackled with electricity, so tense was the space between them. Several emotions were warring within Maglor’s mind; fear was the primary and instinctive feeling, for the bitterness between he and his cousins had existed for many centuries even after the Silmarils had ceased to exist on Middle Earth. Beyond fear he felt joy at seeing his young cousin who had been dear to him, as well as the ever present regret that followed him everywhere he went. “Arakáno,  Ettanu, what are you doing here?”

[silverladyofthevalley-blog]

[closed starter for eruschildren]

It had been a few years, as near as Celebrian could reckon it, since her sons and father had reached the shores of Valinor. It had been a bittersweet moment for all involved, since the twins brought with them word of Arwen’s passing. The intervening years, however, had given her family time to reconnect. Elrond and Elrohir were in town that day, having decided they would handle the shopping for the cottage Celebrian had built with some help from friends she had made in Tirion.

The day had started well enough, Celebrian had been up to her elbows in dirt in the garden. It was planting season and the herbs, fruits, and vegetables she had overwintered inside were ready to be put back in the earth. Unbidden, around midday, panic welled up inside her. She had finished her work and had been enjoying the quiet when that same quiet that a moment ago had been peaceful had become oppressive. Taking a few deep breaths she had brushed the dirt from her clothes and arms, taking care with where her scars crossed her skin, and headed inside, knowing she would find Elladan in his room.

Her suspicions confirmed she took another breath and rapped lightly on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt you, ‘Adan. But I thought we might sit together for a spell, if you’d care to join me.” Even after Elrond telling her she could be straightforward about it when she felt that panic she still struggled to admit it to her sons.

[lordofthegoldenflower]

Closed Starter for eruschildren

@eruschildren 

The sun was westering as Glorfindel headed for the training fields to meet with Tuor.  They had both been so busy between duties, courts, other social engagements, that they had not had the time to spend together let alone train.  That was the reason that, even though he was tired from working with his men earlier that day, he was looking forward to spending time with his friend.  Even if their training did not go well, he would be tired enough that he would sleep well that night.

When he arrived, he started stretching, working out some soreness, keeping an eye out the man.  As soon as he caught sight of his friend, he raised a hand and smiled.  “Tuor!  My friend!  Are you ready to spar?”  he called out in greeting.

[wisearacano]

[ closed starter for @eruschildren​ !]

The battle was won, and yet a dark dread had taken a firm hold on Nolofinwë as he ran through camp.

He had ridden back from the front line when the last remains of the horde of Orcs had turned and scuttled back to their master, though he had sent his freshest Noldor after them. As soon as he crossed into their camp, he was flooded with reports -- messengers from all the divisions of his host, reporting on casualties and positions held and events that had occurred while Nolofinwë had been in the field. The rear guard holds steady, and the left cavalry has taken heavy losses, and Prince Findekáno reports the enemy has been chased off. Nolofinwë took reports and status updates by the dozen while he retreated to his command tent, his armor splattered with blood both dark and red. One report stopped him cold in his tracks -- “Prince Arakáno wounded gravely in the winning back of the center of the field, my lord, the boy said, watching Nolofinwë’s every movement, “currently located in the westernmost healers’ tent, my lord.”

He had the messenger repeat it back to him but once before he took off at a run through the camp. While he ran, he tried to remember when he had seen Arakáno and the others last -- he had seen Turukáno commanding the rear, and it was reported as steady, and Findekáno had reported in as all clear. Irissë was still with Turukáno, he assumed, and he believed he would have been notified. But his youngest...

Tired soldiers cleared from his path, and it wasn’t until he arrived at the tent that he slowed to a stop. Clenching his jaw and preparing for the worst, he opened the tent flap and entered, his steps firm despite his heart’s shaking. Elves were lined in three rows, though some were able to stand as they were treated by a small flock of healers brought up on the horrors of the Helcaraxë. And there, at the end.....

Arakáno, breathing. 

His wounds looked grievous, and that dread still held tight to Nolofinwë, but the rise and fall of his son’s chest brought relief. He rushed over, kneeling at Arakáno’s bedside. 

           “Yonya?”

[scion-of-kings]

Starter for @eruschildren

The fact that Círdan had wanted to imbue their young minds with some practical knowledge didn’t seem to bother the very young High King of the Noldor, for his attention -as well as his refined skills as a fisher- lied elsewhere.

Gondolin had fallen nearly a decade ago, and the only good thing that its tragedy had brought him was the possibility to interact with people in his age range. He had never wanted that crown, nor his father’s brother and his realm dead and crumbling to dust among flames and chaos, and deep inside he felt some Gondolindrim didn’t think he should be king of them all.  That he could understand -his own cousin, Idril, would have been a much better option than him. At the very least, she was a grown-up elleth who had proved she knew how to deal with danger, not an adolescent thrown into the throne like him.

With Idril’s son the High King was often seen, and while the adults in Sirion and Balar deemed it good -not as a reunion of kin, but as an alliance between their people- those close to them soon discovered that the level of chaos the two of them left in their wake increased day by day.

Ereinion tacked one of the oars of their boat into the sand in a sort of flag, which banner was his own jacket, now wet from the recent dive into the cold waters. The Shipwright had tasked them with a simple mission: go and fish something. Instead, they’d managed to lose an oar, tear a net and bring the boat to a cove hours away from Balar’s main settlement. “Círdan is going to have my head this time,” Ereinion declared solemnly, mostly untroubled with the significance of his own words.

[warhornofgondor]

“You don’t understand. You will never understand.“ (eruschildren - Abíthasa)

There were certain subjects that Boromir knew he was ignorant about and did not care to learn more for he found no use in its knowledge. His mind, however, was not closed to ALL things. Her adamant slight vexed him, and he was sure his face betrayed this.

“You might attempt to enlighten me then.”

@eruschildren

[annatarlordofgifts]

@eruschildren // continued

       [N]ámo bit back a sigh at the sudden question. He had already sensed the maia’s presence, and did not need to turn around to know exactly who it was. If only it were so easy to know why he felt the need to keep coming here, far from his beloved forges and farther still from what most would consider pleasant company.

       ❝ These are my halls. There are few other places that I would have reason to be. ❞

       The Maia smiled at the Vala quietly, noticing the contained sigh and delighted that he had almost gotten a responce out of him. He bounced on his toes before stepping closer, looking up at the vala expectantly.

      ❝ You came to my Lord Aulë’s once. ❞