#finriel

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

The Curse of Thranduil’s Family (aka being emotionally compromised/stunted when it comes to themselves)

Oropher: Claudryad, i love you deeper than the ocean, further than the stars can reach. I am so happy to have been able to spend the past 300 years having a family and two adorable children with you. Happy 300th anniversary, love!

Cloudryad (thranduil and miriel’s mom) who did not realize that, despite kissing, living with, and raising two kids together (which she gave birth to), Oropher loved her or that they were married: ??????

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

Finwe: Miriel, from the first moment i met you, i have held affection for you, and as i grew, that affection grew into love. I have traveled the seas to find a safe space for us to live in order to be worthy of your love. Please, may i have the honor of marrying you?

Miriel, completely oblivious to the years of devotion finwe had for her, thinking he was just being nice: ?????

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

Gil-galad, finrod, and every other elf that thranduil’s (read user name) been with (most notably the ones he had kids with): thranduil, i know you are not one for relationships, and i know that you will always put your people first, but please, accept my love. Even if you do not, know that it will always be with you.

Thranduil, unable to differentiate between friendship and romantic interest: ????? What-

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

Elladan and elrohir: Legolas, we’ve been interested in you from the day we met and you slew a spider nest to save us. It has been millennia since then and, now that sauron is gone, we wish to court you properly.

Legolas, who thought all the times the twins were making moves on him/flirting with him were just them being friendly: *blue screen of death* wha-?!? SINCE WHEN-

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

Bonus:

Oropher, reacting to his descendants’ obliviousness to love: oh my god, oF ALL THE THINGS TO INHERIT FROM CLOUDRYAD-

[hinadraws]

As a celebration for having this art account for 10 years I had requested from my followers here on tumblr to suggest some characters for me to draw. They definitely did not disappoint!! Thank you all for the wonderful suggestions!! These were fun to draw c: @finriel @thatonekidwind @willyoucometowakemeup @zeldaelmo @cantankerouscanuck and anon! Thank you again for the requests c: |Instagram| |Cara| |Blue Sky|

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 10: Channel

Content Warning: 5.5 Spoilers and slight body horror

It was a strange thing indeed for someone to tell you they were the reincarnation of a saint. No less, the one deemed the original heretic.

Esredes' immediate instinct was not to believe her- but in a world where he'd been hiding the ability to turn into a dragon for so long, he instead opted to say nothing and ask more details. And even after everything, he still didn't believe it was quite what was going on, yet he kept his silence. This meant a lot to her, and it meant a lot to all the others in the movement who believed her wholeheartedly- and her ability to transform into a powerful being was certainly not something normal. It didn't matter to him at that point- she had a power that could deliver Ishgard from the lies which binded it. And that was the most valuable power of all.

A part of him often wondered if it had made a difference if he said anything, if he was honest. But given how she reacted when she finally learned it was all a lie- most of him believed it would have been a negative difference. "It doesn't matter if you are or are not Shiva." He said to her when she came back from her long trip away. "You don't need to embody her spirit to be everything she stands for and was, Ysayle. Have you not been acting in her name for so long? Have you not had the courage to foster peace and understanding when all of your countrymen have chosen hate and violence, just like the original maiden? Have you not worked longer and harder than any of us for peace? You're still Shiva, Ysayle. You have carried on her legacy, and acted as she would have. And if you think this is going to lead to the dream that you always wanted, then go. Don't stand idly by as the truth comes out to them. Get out and fight for it as you always have. Bring this all to the close you wanted, Ysayle. You'll only live with regrets for the rest of your life if you don't."

Most days he wished he hadn't said that last part.

Just as she hadn't been Shiva, Esredes was convinced she wasn't a primal, either. The very concept was insane to him. It didn't matter that they needed a bunch of crystals to make the transformation happen- Primals weren't alive. They were manifestations which lacked sentience, with no will of their own- Shiva was nothing like that.

Sure, over in the Far East the same thing happened and was called a primal- still had to be something else. The Warriors told Esredes that Hydaelyn was a primal- well, that made sense to him. Her actions were so contradictory and illogical that she had to lack proper sentience.

And then the towers appeared.

Problem as they were, Esredes figured they would be just that- a large problem for everyone to solve. And there he was at Whitebrim after the Temple Knights faction of the Alliance assembled, quietly taking in and watching the many faces he had thankfully never seen before, when Kainen motioned for him as he left the dining hall.

Why had he motioned for him? Esredes shouldn't have even asked, for when he came face to face with a woman who was shouting about Shiva in a cell, his blood turned to ice. No, no, no, no, no. That wasn't possible. That didn't make sense. She wasn't a real primal, and Ysayle was- The woman clutched her rosary and began a prayer, after the guards allowed Esredes to give it back to her. “O Lady of the Rime...seal our hearts in ice...health and praise for the Emperor...for glory, Garlemald...” Esredes' hands curled into fists at those words, and his eyes grew intense as if a wildfire was blazing in them. "No... how dare they... They were the ones that murdered her!" "Ser Esredes..." came a voice among the crowd that had gathered by the cell, and he soon recomposed himself. The porxie mage came and did their work, and the woman was soon back to normal- but it did nothing to ease the chill in his bones at the realization that his people were in danger, and they were going to put others in danger- and it was all their own fault.

Soon came the Battle of Carteneau. The Alliance split up to handle the various lunar primals and tempered among the battlefield, and as fate would have it, Kainen was heading an expedition to fight a Lunar Shiva.

That should be impossible. She's gone.

What kind of unholy abomination and impersonation awaited them...? There were other primals he could have gone after, of course, but the moment he heard Kainen speak, he drew in a breath and winced, silently navigating his way over. "Ser Esredes, are you alright?" asked Adelyn, another member of the Ishgard division, as she canted her head towards him ever so slightly. "You needn't join this group if you are having second thoughts..." "I can't possibly stand by. There is no one closer to having an advantage than myself." She nodded. "Then I am glad to have your aid."

She's gone.

When the airship arrived to the arena, it was already mostly ice around a center stage, very reminiscent of the amphitheater itself. Some knights had already been frozen in ice, to which Kainen declared he would get them out and jumped away.

And left there in the center waiting for them was her. While she had a similar outfit, she was not Ysayle, that was for sure, but some other woman who bore no resemblance to anyone. She's gone. That's not her. Beyond the Ishgardians who had come, the majority of the forces were Maelstrom, easily picked out by their bright red outfits. And on order, everyone entered the arena to face off against this thing that had no definition, this imposter that spat in the memory of who she was, a blindly unsentient being that had no right existing. True to his prediction, he did seem to manage something of an advantage. The arena was quickly covered in ice and many of the combatants went sliding, some right into her attacks, but they held true and stubborn. True to being a mostly melee combatant, Esredes had to get right up and close to the thing to attack it- it's not her it's not her it's not her- and by the gods was he going to exercise his right to take out of this world anything that would twist her power for something else.

She loved this world, and all its people. She would never want something in her image made to destroy it. While he held his own against the ice of the arena, even if he had to stab his sword into the ice and use it to ground himself, the thing soon raised its hands heavensward and encased itself in ice, the ice cracking and splitting and exploding to reveal a dragon wing exploding from her clavicle, followed by a second wing, white feathers spilling forth that pulsed with icy energy. A familiar, but not quite right pale dragon formed from the energy, and his eyes glowed with rage. Esredes visibly grimaced. Not long after, Esredes was struck by a blast of icy aether. He flew back and slammed into the arena floor, shards of ice impaled into his lower back and both arms. Even still, he grunted, and pushed himself back up, ignoring the freezing, piercing pain. That thing had to be stopped at all costs.

The lunar apparition made the arena grow colder, and colder. Even for an Ishgardian like himself, it was getting too cold to bear, and gods know how all the Maelstrom people were faring. As the growing blizzard rushed around them, Esredes squinted his eyes to see and let out a shaky breath. It was too cold. They were all going to join those knights and freeze together. Such power, he couldn't contend with it- is this what it was? What Ysayle was yielding, the power they had at their fingertips and yet still wasn't enough to kill that parasite and end their suffering- They had been told at the briefing these Lunars were weaker than true primals, but as the cold closed in on the deepest parts of his bones, Esredes couldn't even comprehend it being stronger than this. Was this what we were going to unleash on Ishgard? Would she have been able to control it enough to prevent mass death? Esredes was still standing, despite it all, yet his balance was beginning to falter in all the shivering.

They were all surely about to succumb to the cold, and it was his fault. He helped bring this abomination into existence. He killed everyone here, including a client of his.

The apparition turned to him, and locked eyes with him. Did it know? A chill ran up his spine, but he stared the thing down. His eyes were still intense like a blazing wildfire, even despite the cold. "You're a disgrace to her memory," each word of that snarl came out with venom. "You'll never... be... Saint Shiva..." And then someone else took advantage of her looking away, and she was pushed back by a wave of dark magic, her icy staff flying out of her hand. Another engulfed her in flames, igniting her wings and burning them to ashes.

As the primal staggered to the ground, her back now to Esredes, she looked up to stare at someone else. Esredes looked past her to see Adelyn, her eyes now glowing blue and icy, with a glowing seal on the glove of her unarmed hand and a layer of rime at her feet, and suddenly, the primal was encased in a pillar of ice. The primal looked down at the Alliance forces, but looked heavensward as she was completely encased. Another fire spell began to crack the ice, and when it shattered, the lunar apparition was no more.

Esredes slowly got to his feet as the sapping cold faded, breathing heavily as he stared with wide eyes at the spot where the abomination had just been. He hadn't even realized that tears had begun streaming down his cheeks as his blank gaze fixated on the spot.

She's gone.

She can't come back.

Every part of Esredes wanted to drop to the ground and scream until he couldn't anymore. Until the ice came back and froze him to death. Until there was nothing but a cold oblivion left. Was it a relief, or a twisted, taunting mockery that he couldn't even look upon something resembling her once last time, before returning to a world where her presence couldn't be felt?

Yet thankfully for that urge, he was soon brought back to reality by people talking to him- multiple people. Some asked if he was okay, one woman even offered a hug he graciously declined, and soon Kainen returned announcing he had completed his mission, and they were back on the airship and off to reconnect with the rest of the Alliance. The Battle of Carteneau had not yet been won, and there was no time for him to rest as he stared out blankly the entire airship ride over.

Shiva had never been anything more than a long passed mortal, and despite the best efforts of so many people, she would never be anything more.

[nodragons]

Day 5:

“I woke up early in the morning to heal mister Berion from poisoning he received from yesterday’s fight. I myself had to rest a little before casting. But I would wake up early anyway since we had to leave for the Bugbear camp.”

“This time the fight went a little better... I made sure to keep my distance and to keep an eye on everyone! After the fight was over mister Spark ran off. We all went after him. In the tower was the same little glass ball from yesterday. Noone wanted to touch it tho because it turned Spark’s fingers black... and he’s a construct! Mister Fin tried to destroy it but we all only got hurt... and Fin started to act... weird, kept telling us that he’s locked up somewhere... and asked us for help. I have a weird feeling about this...”

“After we were done in the ruins we came back to Ice Meet but... the city was attacked and the mayor... dead... It was a horrible sight... is this really what adventuring is about? What’s more is that Blizzie dissappeared! He was not in the stables... I thought he might be dead... But miss Paulina told me that he ran into the cellar during the attack... What a smart boy!”

“Later that day people along with Berion gave the mayor a proper funeral... I just... couldn’t be there... couldn’t bear to watch. After that we all gathered in the pub for a drink. We even got our money for the mead (even tho Ellie drank some of it), but I refused it along with Berion, Štěpánka and Ellie, we just couldn’t keep it, the people here need it more. Then we went to sleep and someone again visited my mind. I saw my memories but... something wasn’t right.”

[tanoraqui]

Of the Golden Horde

An Account of the Daughters of Finrod and Amarië, Their Names and Temperaments. For @finweanladiesweek​ a couple hours late for Day 4 - Later Generations. I definitely mis-conjugated and mis-translated everything; please don’t judge.

[polished version on AO3!]

1. Nolórwë (Q) / Nolorben (S) - (one who is) wise heart (for Andreth Saelind, “wise heart”)

Nolórwë is firstborn, and it is said that when her father first held her, he said thoughtfully—after a considerable amount of cooing and beaming—“Now that I’m meeting her properly, ‘Ingoldë’ doesn’t seem quite right…but I still find myself loathe to break all tradition…”

“Isn’t it my traditional right to name her Ingoldë?” Amarië asked from her bed.

“I thought you wanted to do the fin name,” said Finrod, sitting beside her with their babe in his arms.

“I do want to do the fin name,” Amarië admitted. “What’s the point of marrying into the House of Finwë if I don’t get to give at least my firstborn child a politically loaded name about their hair?” She reached over and ran an admiring hand over their brand-new daughter’s soft head. “Look at it…feel it… It’s like corn silk.”

After some more cooing, mutual congratulation, and contemplating and complaining that Nerdanel has ruined naming one’s child “prettiest baby” for everyone, their discussion returned to the matter of names for the wise.

“Ingoldiel,” Finrod ideated as the yet-unnamed headbutted her mother’s breast with vague concept that it was important. “Nolalissë, Noleth… Nolnor, Nolonárë, Nolonárwen…”

“Would you like,” Amarië said, with the mix of gentleness and wry amusement known best to loving wives, “to simply name her Nolórwë and invite her to remember Andreth Saelind with you, instead of pretending to be subtle about it?”

Finrod looked to her with great affection, for well she knew his heart.

Nolorwë, named Findaranel by her mother (Finwë/hair princess; S: Finriel), grew up to be an eminent scholar among the Noldor and Vanyar, and took no small part in the Great Debates of the Third Age. Among her family and friends, however. she is best known for:

Being right about 99% of the time about absolutely everything (positive (sometimes begrudgingly))

Knowing it (negative)

Being the only person who could consistently command the silence, attention, and at least potential obedience of all her younger sisters with one absolutely ear-piercing whistle. (An eldest sister of 5-7, often traveling and even more often left to babysit, must develop what techniques she can)

2. Mínakánis (Q) / Mingoneth (S) - eager-to-go/start chieftain (f) (for Barahir, “fiery/eager lord/master”)

“Oh! She’s a biter!” Finrod is said to have said in delight of his second daughter.

“I hope not too much!” Amarië laughed and held out her hands. “Give her back, she’s hungry.”

“Mínakánis you shall be,” Finrod informed his eager daughter, as he reluctantly but dutifully returned her to her mother’s arms. He tickled her toes until they curled up. “Would you leap into a swamp to save a foolish lord from a bunch of nasty orcs? Yes you would! I think you would!”

Had Mínakánis been born seven hundred years earlier, she would’ve stood in the Great Square of Tirion at the start of a seemingly endless night and thought with two and a half of her uncles that Fëanáro was an ass and possibly mad as well, but he did have a point about the attraction of strange new lands to explore, to be free in, to conquer and defend with deeds of legend. She would have crossed the Ice and likely died in the Dagor Bragollach.

Fortunately, though to her sometimes-frustration, she was born in the early Second Age. Of her parents’ lives of itinerant diplomacy, itinerant appealed to her and diplomacy did not; from an early age she was skilled at sneaking out of parties to get muddy, climb trees, and generally frustrate her older sister to no end. Later, she toyed with the Hunt of Oromë, the Races of Nessa, the Trials of Tulkas… The last suited her best, though still she felt stifled at times. She was more skilled with a sword than many veterans of Beleriand. She just wanted to be useful with it.

For many centuries, Mínakánis split her time between the training yards and the life of a sailor, soon captain among her Telerin cousins. She traded with Númenor until it was forbidden on both sides, and then she smuggled for many more years. She flirted with Ossë in his fiercest tempers.

She was happiest of all when the world Changed and Valinor’s new, tangential location set it more on the barrier between Without and Within—giving its people a duty, should they accept it, of guarding the latter from the former. The Greatest Evil is kept out by the guard of the Valar, but there are pettier dark and dangerous things that gnaw at the edges of the world, sometimes from both sides. Most who live in Valinor these days live in the untroubled peace they were once promised, but others pace the borders on guard under the leadership of the Warrior, or ride out with the Hunt when on rare occasion the Tulkandil need backup. Love not the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for their glory; but only that which they defend, say the wise - but there are some who can love both. Mínakánis is one such a warrior - and she still does sail, don’t get me wrong. She just fights a lot more sea monsters.

3. Maranwetar (Q) / Manatar (S) - queen of destiny (for Turin "Turambar", "master of fate")

“Pityalaurë, the playpen is not going to move or open,” Amarië called across the open kitchen. “Perhaps you could just play with your blocks until dinner is ready?”

Her third daughter stood back up on her wobbly, 18-month-old legs; glared at Amarië through the playpen’s sheer-cloth wall, and charged the wall again with the determination of a bull. And fell down again.

“Have you still not named her?” asked Finduilas, sipping wine and stirring soup while Amarië basted the chicken.

“At this rate, I think we’re going to call her ‘Pityalaurë,” Elenwë teased, sipping wine at the table and stirring nothing at all. “It’s His Majesty who’s still dithering.”

Amarië flicked a gibbet at her good-naturedly.

“Finrod keeps hoping to recognize someone in her,” she explained to her great-niece. “Not that he needs to, to love her - you’ve seen how all these girls have him wrapped around their fingers! But now that he’s named two for remembrance, he so wants to keep it up - but ‘it needs to be right,’ you know.” She quoted wryly.

She watched her daughter get to her feet again, stare in determination at the playpen wall, duck her head, and backup a couple feet, kicking aside soft blocks, in order to get a better running head start.

She didn’t seem to be having fun, per se, but she also wasn’t crying or even bored. On her third child, and with dinner to get ready before her husband and the older girls got back from their hike, Amarië knew that this was a solid win.

Pityalaurë rebounded and fell down again. It was a very sturdy playpen. She got up once more, visibly more determined than ever.

Finduilas watched with an odd expression on her face.

“Have you considered ‘Thurineth’?” she asked. “That is, ‘Folissë’...or maybe Edainelwen...”

Manatar was, of course, eventually named for one of Túrin’s more impressive titles, albeit with an optimistic twist. Don’t let the Finwëan ancestry fool you: she gets that stone-wall stubbornness directly from her mother.  

(A brief aside on Amarië of the Vanyar: when word came of Findaráto’s death, Amarië’s mother waited a few polite days and then said gently, “Maybe this is for the best, really... You can move on. To someone less...Doomed.” The next night, Amarië arrived at the royal palace in Tirion with a suitcase, asked dry-eyed if she could stay, and more or less appointed herself Arafinwë’s assistant secretary, and later aide-de-camp. Finrod - firmly calling himself ‘Finrod - was re-embodied before the War, but not allowed to join the Host; they eloped a few hours before she sailed east. She reconciled with her parents when she got home 50-odd years later.)

Manatar was the first of the “Golden Horde” to give her parents a grandchild. First a wild possum when she was thirteen years old (the elf equivalent of about six), and later an actual elven child. Which she did not find in the woods. Really.

I’m not sure where she and her wife settled down - it was in a community that doesn’t exist yet in the First Age or earlier, I think. Somewhere with a lot of Returned and/or Sailed Sindar, maybe (thus she uses a Sindarin name). Wherever it is, there’s some sort of farm, and it’s where all her far-flung sisters come home to for the holidays. 

4. Mothername: Tindómiel (Q) / Tinúviel (S) - nightingale (lit: daughter of twilight)  Fathername: Veryawendë (Q) / Berenwen (S) - bold maiden 

It is said that when they first beheld their fourth daughter together, wrinkled of face and dark blond of hair, Finrod was struck by recognition of temperament and by vague but certain foresight of great deeds, and said immediately, “Berenwen”; and Amarië was struck for the first time by true mother’s foresight, a vision of Song in a dark place and irrevocable change in the world, and she said at the same time, “Tinúviel.”

They looked at each other. They looked down at their daughter in Amarië’s arms, wrinkled of face and dark blond of hair. They looked at each other again.

“Oh wow,” said Amarië. “She’s going to fuck up so much. In a good way, I hope.”

“Are you okay?” Finrod asked, now struck suddenly by the founding anxiety of the House of Finwë. “I mean, are you feeling well? You’re not– That was a longer labor than usual, but you’re a normal amount of tired from it, right? Proportionately? You didn’t - I didn’t pour any more energy into this child than the others, and I didn’t notice you - ”

“I’m not disproportionately weary and I’m not going anywhere, Ingoldo,” Amarië promised, and leaned up to kiss him gently on the forehead. Then she leaned down to press an even softer kiss to Tinúviel’s soft fuzz. “Not without you and all our girls, not ever.”

It is not known at the time of this writing what Tinúviel Berenwen will do to irrevocably change the world. She was not involved in the Fall of Númenor. She did not participate much in the Great Debates of the Third Age - not the posting of the Ninety-Five Theses, not the Diet of Valimar, not the Excommunication of Melian and all that followed. (She did take part in a few experimental Oaths, but she had nothing to do with the Return of the House of Fëanor - not that anyone but Findis really did). She did not even sneak off to Middle Earth to participate in the Quest of the Ring, though she did think about it.

She did quite a lot of jewelcraft, actually, though she tended to avoid working with captured light. She specialized in single-gem statues carved such that the light reflected off and within them made them seem to move. She also Sang, and this, she managed to find her own voice in, though she still preferred not to do it in public.

(It occurs to me that Tinúviel Tindómiel and Celebrimbor get along fantastically once he re-embodies in the early Third Age).

Personally, my money is on Tindómiel being the one to figure out how the Eldar can physically leave Arda, probably in ships that sail the Void. But that would require me to figure out the metaphysics of outer space in Éa, and I’m not doing that right now. I do not, for the record, think they could stop being tied to Arda. I just think maybe they could get away for a while.

(There’s nothing like being named “Tinúviel Berenwen” to make you desperate to escape absolutely everything and everyone you grew up with, and all their expectations.)

5. Satarissë (Q) / Sadeth (S) - trusty follower/loyal companion [feminine] (for Beor, "vassal")

It is said that when Finrod Felagund, Friend of Men, first held and fully beheld his fifth daughter with the insight for which he was known, he spoke with joy and satisfaction and a little relief: “There you are, old friend.” 

Satarissë’s sisters have complained that she’s Dad’s favorite because she reminds him of his favorite Man. This is almost certainly untrue. Satarissë’s sisters have complained that she’s Dad’s favorite, and everyone else’s to boot, because she’s the baby of the family (for several millennia). This is probably true.

Like her namesake, Satarissë was a loyal friend, a daring leader, and more politically savvy than most people give her credit for - until they learned better. She was everyone’s favorite charming, golden, sweetest babiest princess. She learned from Great-Aunt Lalwen (though Lalwen was as much the Hostess (and Spymaster) of Barad Eithel as she was the Royal Gem of Tirion, now; somehow they averaged out to Lady of Tol Eressëa). She learned from her parents, especially Finrod - and the reason all these kids grew up as the children of itinerant diplomats is that...

At the end of the War of Wrath, when the Host of the West returned to the ever-Amanyar and the Doomed began to return by ship and re-embodiment, and more and more elves began to sail to the promised land... Between his initial repentance and his leadership and valor in the War, Arafinwë was generally respected among all factions. Eärwen had spent most of the War standing on decks, docks, and the very edges of shore and smoothing the way between Teleri and Noldor, Vanyar and Falathrim, Maiar and Avari and Edain, and she, too, was well-regarded. Lalwen knew everyone who was anyone in Beleriand and everyone who was still alive by the end, and they knew her. And there were others among all the peoples of the Quendi who are commonly respected, liked, and skilled enough at diplomacy to make up for the fact that nobody else was, in this suddenly created melting pot of PTSD and unresolved grudges.

But only one person was a blessedly returned crown prince of the Noldor-who-stayed and a respected, often beloved former king of the Noldor-who-left and a lord by grandparentage and marriage of the Vanyar and a returned-and-forgiven prince of the Teleri and a well-known, esteemed friend and ally of every faction of the Beleriandrim, and by nature and honed talent a maker of strange friends, weaver of alliances, and welcomer of weary, perhaps morally dubious refugees...and that was Finrod. So, yeah, they did a lot of traveling, mostly to put out metaphorical and sometimes literal fires - and because it was fun. Traveling is almost always fun, especially with an ever-increasing horde (hoard) of cheerfully energetic, all very blond children.

...the sweetest, babiest, everything-to-everyone-est of whom is Satarissë! And she has a lot to live up to - her oldest sister was a respected loremaster by the age of 200, her second-oldest was beloved of the Warrior, third was Maranwetar whom everyone liked without any effort on her part, fourth was freaking Tinúviel, who was soon a master crafter to boot - and her mother had been part of the final party to confront Morgoth, for fuck’s sake! While all Satarissë was good at was charm and politics, and on a good day, rhetoric. So she ruthlessly leveraged being beloved Finrod’s most beloved daughter into...whatever seemed like a good idea at the time, mostly. Getting a vast bridge built between two mountain cities. Settling newly re-embodied Avari into new homes without disrupting their new neighbors. Studying and testing various forms of government on a small scale until she was ready to convince everyone to create a parliament of the Noldor to better represent the interests of the later-born - and when that started to fall apart in a millennia or so, a multi-branch governmental structure; and 800 years after that...

Even into the Fourth Age, Tirion-upon-Túna remains the center of Elvish government in Valinor, or at least the hotspot for (those who enjoy) political infighting, so Satarissë spends 60% of her time there - but the remaining 40% keeping up the family tradition of itinerant diplomacy. She is the only person who has ever successfully challenged Fingolfin for political rule of the Noldor. She is the only person who’s ever come close to winning the High Kingship from Arafinwë on grounds of genuine campaigning, rather than “this person invented an awesome thing; lets let them lead ceremonies for a century.” Arafinwë was briefly ecstatically hopeful, not to mention grandpaternally proud, until he beat her in a mild landslide the following election. (Quoth Lalwen: “Sorry, Ara, but Satyë wants it too much. No one sensible trusts her to manage if something went horrifically wrong.”)

One of Arafinwë’s significant contributions to ongoing peace in Tirion and all of Eldamar is that he periodically locks his brother and his granddaughter in a room together with a variety of competitive board games, card decks, and about a week’s worth of food and water. Starting a few centuries into the Fourth Age, he locks Maedhros in with them as well. This is exactly why people keep electing him High King, obviously.

6-7. Ambalaura (Q) / Amgloer (S) - golden heads

Thalanis (Q) / Thaleth (S) - dauntless, steadfast, heroic woman (for Húrin Thalion)

Thandanis (Q) / Thandeth (S) - shield woman (for Huor, no less steadfast, no less great in guarding that terrible retreat)

Elenwë returned from Mandos just after the Exile was lifted. She left her husband behind, and many friends, but many friends were waiting in the land of the living, and her daughter. She spent much of the next several millennia on Tol Eressëa with Idril (who happily handled much of the practical management, while Lalwen kept people from killing each other), and when she wasn’t there, she was often touring with Finrod and Amarië. They were only too happy to have her, being best friends of old, and always needing an extra pair of hands to manage the Golden Horde (of which Idril was 100% honorarily part). 

Eventually Turgon caught up with them, however, late in the Second Age...and with the dawn of the Third Age, the four of them finally got around to carrying out the plan they’d hatched back when they were all young together in the Light of Trees: friendship-inducing simultaneous pregnancies and births, just like Finrod and Turgon’s parents did! Twice the babies, twice the fun!

Now, the people of Valinor, very much including the Noldor, know a reprise when they’re watching one unfold, even if it’s an ironically happy one. (They’re much more used to echoed tragedy.) So multiple people warned Amarië, while she was pregnant with her sixth child, “You’d better not be having twins. I swear to Vana, you’d better not be having twins.”

“It’s very rude how everyone thinks I’d upstage you like that,” Amarië would complain later to Elenwë. “Anyway, we’re having twins jointly, aren’t we?”

They were. They really were. The Vanyar had a small population when they left Cuviënen and, while they grew, they never grew as much as the Noldor, Teleri, or anyone else; certainly when Amarië and Elenwë were born, everyone was still related to everyone else. Those two specifically are second cousins once removed - so the babies both came out with bright golden hair, blue-grey Finwëan eyes, the nose of Amarië’s great-grandmother who was Elenwë’s great-aunt...

Their births were staggered by a few weeks, just as Finrod & Turgon’s and later Galadriel & Aredhel’s had been, in case something went wrong and recovery time was needed. But from the first shared days of their shared lives, the Ambalaura were inseparable - each never happier than when the other was near; each rarely happy when the other was not. Per tradition firmly established, they were father-named after Turgon’s friends now lost to the Gift of Men, themselves brothers - and as soon as they had will and wit to be clever, both girls dedicated themselves, with great sense of mischief, to making sure nobody could remember who was which. Or at least, who came from which parents. They dressed alike. They spoke alike. They slept in each other’s beds, sometimes together, sometimes swapping houses.

They were joyful. They roamed the countryside freely and laughed even more freely - even though the countryside was a little more dangerous than it used to be, with the Changing of the World. So they took up spears at need, though only ever on the edges of the Hunt - they had little true wildness in their hearts, just a lack of fear so long as they fought back to back.

All their older sisters were long-since grown, most like aunts than sisters. Manatar had children of her own, also grown. Satarissë was getting locked in a room with Great-Uncle Fingolfin and a Monopoly board again (a game from lost Thargelion). In Valimar, Nolorë debated with friends over honey wine about the ethics of the Sinking of Númenor and what, if anything, ought be done about it.

But everyone still knew a reprise when they saw it. So they called the twins, daughters of both Finrod and Amarië and Turgon and Elenwë, Ambalaura; and Nerdanel added statues of them arm in arm to the royal garden (to which she added statues every time the House of Finwë got a new member). And there was peace, and great friends remembered with joy, in Valinor.

[hailiiz]

[ Finriel Parker ]

My dungeons & dragons character for my finished campaign.

Divine Soul Sorcerer Aasimar became the Lesser Diety of Reason known as Murdane after being reincarnated by Lathander to mend ties with Helm. 💛

[thewriting-corner]

Pick a puppy, get a writing tip!

One of the randomest posts I’ve done BUT I also really like it and I hope you guys do too :) And sorry for the lack of posting, but I am FINALLY settled in college and have one more week before orientation starts soooooo I will try to make some more posts before school begins :)

1 - Set the stakes from the beginning

Sometimes it may be fun to “hide” certain info from your readers, but (most times) if you want the reader to be engaged and to care about your characters and plot, set the stakes from the very beginning.

Take Of Liars and Thieves by Gabriela Lavarello for example. Finriel, Lorian (loml) and Tedric are told from the first chapter that if they don’t retrieve the lost pages, the king will have their heads and the kingdom will be buried in chaos, but if they get them then the King will pardon them of their crimes. High stakes like this leave us in a thinking position: would I say no, run away and choose death? Or would I say yes, risk failure and likely choose death anyway? It’s a difficult position and even though we don’t yet know the characters, the stakes make us sympathize with them.

2 - Worldbuilding: Make the characters interact with the environment

Many people choose exposition as their weapon of choice to world build, but another good way to do so is to simply have the characters exist in the world you have created. If magic exists, don’t tell the reader you can cure a sickness with a magic potion. Instead have a side character be injured and the MC gives them the magic potion to survive.

My favorite example is Once Upon A Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber. (Since the series is separate from Caraval, I’ve no idea how much magic is explained in the previous series so I consider it a standalone.) From the very first chapter, Evangeline tells us she works in a magic-type shop. She remarks how the bell rang before Luc opened the door in a way that automatically explains that not only does magic exist, but that certain inanimate objects actually are sentient (which is also explained from the bell’s POV in the prologue).

3 - When writing romance, make your characters fit as humans, not plot devices

I’ve seen it many times in romance or fantasy books where the characters in a relationship only have one thing in common: they’re a trope. Meaning, the author wrote them to fit each other to a point where, without the other, they are meaningless to the story. So, instead of making them fit to fulfill their role as love interests, develop them as individuals FIRST (both on and off the page) and from then figure out how the features you gave them as a single person compliment the other.

I think a good example of two characters who compliment each other is Lila and Orion from Cuban Girl’s Guide To Tea and Tomorrow from Taylor Namey. They’re very different people - Orion being really laid back and accepting what life gives him while Lila is controlling and demanding of the life she wants. Reading about them like this, they’re the textbook definition of opposites attract but when you actually dive into the book, you see the ways that their opposing personalities actually help each other grow as people - with Lila accepting that some things are just out of your control and Orion learning to fight for himself and what he wants.

4 - If you feel stuck in a scene either delete the last sentence you wrote or change the point of view (as a bonus chapter)

This gives your mind a sort of palate cleanse. Allowing your brain to see the story differently will (most of the time) help you move on with the story. For me though, I like to delete the entire last paragraph I wrote because it gives me a lot more space to connect my not-stuck brain to what I’m writing when stuck.

[444names]

#3 MYSTERY POST

Adaina Adalm Aden Adory Adrégole Al'noniele Alas Alde Aliecamûl Amancelwë Ambra Amdís Amick Amil Amille Amir Amiry Amirë Amûl Anadlëxi Anat'ü Andorl Anel Ango Animla Annahir Annel Anon Anpas Anthilexan Arad Araglitia Aran Arancara Aravläü Ardar Ardirine Argondil Ariamûl Arimoj Aris Armadûn Aroherryon Arómiele Assa At'ä Audeth Audettelor Azandil Azane Balmaud Bariale Bele Belenick Belest Beli Benris Beorne Berenom Bernatanoj Berryar Bomick Borgis Borne Borog Both Brah Brahirë Branhír Branuü Brat'sä Bravobode Bredheldor Brine Brosno Bríançois Bure Burisilia Bëxdyj Bëzagan Bëzanaran Bëzanne Bëzavrine Cala Caldil Calmalir Calmëëtë Caláf Caranwë Carvenon Cascarë Celdbel Celette Celyne Chard Chelemed Cher Chráin Clainstras Coldamlaul Curthéod Dacilito Delmair Dette Dianfra Dogo Dolague Dorod Dose Doslotno Drenée Drestor Duniel Dwaliand Dylvidil Déodvë Ecthorin Egolannoé Egon Einowyne Elbergon Eldir Ellique Elmouin Elyë Emenbrine Emmang Endur Eoroborin Erry Eärwine Fabothir Fard Feleb Ferice Ferrion Fine Finellego Finique Finriele Flormaing Florwene Flouindil Foldërguel Foros Fran Frane Fravic Frenthirë Frémir Fróg Fundain Fëanne Fílim Fírd Galdën Galge Gamiline Gamûl Gelvang Gerionette Ghâd Gilberessa Gimo Gimon Gimuel Ginck Gine Ginyan Gisil Gist'sä Githôr Gladogona Glibode Glipperry Glúk Gole Golionuel Gondu Goromir Gothalth Gragrier Gran Grançois Gravinel Gríantië Gróriecarn Gróriel Guistamené Guníniü Gwalaul Gélin Haed Haikas Hakos Hal'nor Hal'noé Halgandil Haron Helenc Helest Hengolador Henwë Hert Hosébaug Hugalaciä Huolebrane Hámothir Héor Hériä Idur Ihir Inat' Inelu Iner Iris Iryath Irèse Isakandë Isick Ivis Jachromë Jancine Jeand Jeandilmë Jeane Jeanfrette Jeanmago Jeanneldor Jeantind Jeanuette Joëm Juldirgele Julwë Justë Jérielette Jérion Kakanowë Kalm Kene Khanique Khôn Kine Kron Kílivine Laed Lard Larigin Latardamer Lawin Lemmale Liel Lingolxnyë Linixattel Louil Lovo Lucalicka Lucar Lucca Lucilladûn Luisinbras Léannieldë Lémel Lémin Lérômen Lúthaed Lüdinel Macaldiam Maen Maervi Maito Mandielydi Marabste Maraghâd Marin Marolas Marot Mating Maugladën Maur Mavier Mehtar Menromil Micëstel Mien Milmi Muel Mírd Míriel Míril Nadomulane Nadorn Nakas Naqia Naqiane Naudog Nica Nichèleth Niel Niere Nimel Nogon Nombuc Novi Nákh Náriond Nëprion Nëzan Nëzandie Nëzavovëk Oborolfhie Ogolëxi Ohaëlles Ohel Onar Orophie Oser Osethombur Osnoé Ossakas Ostois Ostval Palas Palfherry Palicë Pat'sä Paur Pausa Peldwine Perven Pharciä Philkas Phir Phorn Pieline Pienniä Podel Podir Polan Polda Polfwinomi Polimoj Polënnel Poslanca Posé Prabine Prand Prël Rahir Rance Rane Rascaren Rascëliny Rathiel Raymil Renna Rodno Roheren Régimë Régoldomë Rëlënne Rímaron Saette Saldolauli Salie Salm Sarazavie Sardacher Sarvel Sarwine Shar Shen Sich Sine Siryon Smélimir Sophildën Soqion Soqiën Sorle Sorotte Sossaush St'sä Stieldos Stvanixand Stvë Suvënique Svoborlada Sylas Súriortz Tambreth Tand Tath Thaegilzôn Thamûl Thelcat' There Thilirë Thricien Théod Tiëj Tiëjsä Tuoro Túriduir Ubëxdyj Ugornar Ulecalloïc Ulen Ulfine Ulie Undiami Unicassëm Uníniadir Valacil Valcwil Valdami Valen Vallaug Valémyrien Vanciline Vand Vannadia Viane Vozgal Waer Wari Xat'sä Yanwënnym Yaraymi Yvegrin Yver Yvestan Yávi Zimbalas Zimirmto Élion Éliquer Émyril Éodel Éodwyn Érèsephirë Ëgolfwinel Ëgoline Írinaqion

[nodragons]

Meet the party

Bondaa Terivach: A cute young Kobold Cleric. Will do anything for her friends and diety. Very naive and pure.

Štěpánka Konvalinková: A Halfling Bard with a growing passion for music. Also loyal to Avadra. Is trying to stay on the pacifist path but who knows what might happen in the future.

Berion Belfer: A Human Bloodhunter. Serious and maybe sometimes grumpy but he means well. Is always ready for battle and won’t hesitate to murder if someone gets on his bad side.

Finriel Drathir: A mysterious Drow Hunter. Acts very nice to Bondaa and is very reasonable. But there’s something off about him...

Ellie: A cute, tiny but very cunning Fairy Rogue. Doesn’t really understand this world but that only adds to her passion about everything. Very curious... maybe a little too much.

Spark: An enourmous Construct Warrior who seems to have lost all his memories. Often travels with Ellie and together they want to find out why Spark can’t remember anything. Does whatever you tell him to do.

And of course shout out to our amazing DM Barča who keeps us entertained and deals with our shinenigans everytime we have a session. You’re the best! <3

More about our current world can be found here.