#ga1adriel

[scion-of-kings]

stop - gil-galad holds galadriel back from walking back out into the fray

It was mere instinct kicking in.

One moment they'd been huddled together in a trench to avoid the steady stream of arrows pouring down from the skies; the next, Gil-galad had grabbed his commander by the back of her cuirass to keep her under cover.

“What do you intend to achieve with that, commander?” he hisses, his tone unnecessarily harsh when so much tension still sits on his shoulders. The enemy is still out there, fighting, but it will not do to get out only to be knocked down by a number of arrows. “A swift passage to the Halls of Mandos?”

[mvndrvke]

@ga1adriel gets a starter! ft. celeborn

Celeborn is no stranger to nightmares. He has moved into Galadriel's rooms again, finding normalcy in the way he and his wife orbit around each other in harmony when everything else feels so unsteady. He is calmer with her around. It's easier to close his eyes in sleep when her hand is gently holding his.

He's unable to find sleep on this particular night, though he'd tried his best to beside his wife. He's careful not to wake her, shifting into a sitting position and taking his journal and charcoal from the nightstand. The pale light of the moon shines through the open balcony doors, and it is enough for him to use to write by along with the little orb of star-glass hanging beside the bed.

He balances his journal on his legs, humming softly to himself as he works on a new melody. The hand not holding the charcoal brushes absentmindedly through Galadriel's hair as she sleeps beside him.

He glances at her after some time, and finds her eyes open and looking up at him. He smiles softly at her. "How long have you been awake?"

[middangard]

@ga1adriel asked: Are you just going to stand there, breathing like an Orc? (for isildur)

Isildur   stared   at   her,   his   breath   still   uneven   from   his   hurried   approach.   He’d   thought   she   hadn’t   noticed   him   lingering   just   beyond   the   courtyard   shadows—clearly,   he   was   wrong.   Galadriel’s   words   cut   sharper   than   any   blade   he’d   wielded,   his   face   burning   hot   now   by   the   notion   of   being   caught   gawking.

Isildur   swallowed   his   pride—barely.   He   stepped   forward,   tilting   his   head   as   though   her   insult   hadn’t   quite   landed.   “I   didn’t   know   Elves   had   such   keen   ears   for   heavy   breathing.”   His   words   were   meant   to   sound   lighthearted,   teasing   even,   but   his   voice   betrayed   a   tinge   of   nervousness.   He   knew   who   she   was.“I...   I   didn’t   mean   to   interrupt,”   he   managed,   though   it   sounded   weak   even   to   his   own   ears.   Isildur   lingered   a   moment   longer,   as   stubborn   as   the   sea   that   called   to   him.   His   lips   parted,   searching   for   words   that   failed   him   in   the   moment—and   stepped   back.   She   was   unlike   anyone   he   had   ever   met—fierce,   distant,   and   utterly   unshakable.

  There   was   something   he   had   yet   to   understand   about   her.   Something   he   wanted   to   understand.   His   father   kept   to   the   Old   Faith   and   outspoken   about   it.   But   it   had   been   long   since   anyone   in   Numenor   had   ever   spoken   or   seen   an   elf.   "It   was   not   my   intention   to   disturb   you,   Lady   Galadriel."

[putrid-tongue]

— STARTER FOR @ga1adriel ( && to be at the right place, at the wrong time. )

minlubên  is  not  old  enough  to  remember  the  reign  of  tar-gimilzôr,  late  father  to  a  dying  tar-palantir.  he  is  counting  forty-two  cycles  of  the  sun,  BORN  INTO  A  TIME  OF  GREAT  TUMULT  AND  DISSENT—  where  the  nights  remain  unsweetened  by  the  scent  of  nimloth's  blossoms  &&  the  hearts  of  many  turn  to  distrust,  anger,  a  hunger  for  more  than  that  which  they  have  been  given.  in  his  early  years  of  study  and  debate,  minlubên  had  firmly  believed  that  the  faithful  must  merely  be  brought  to  see  reason.  surely  they  can  be  swayed  in  open  debate,  when  the  injustice  and  mockery  thrust  upon  the  adûnai  are  laid  bare  in  glaring  clarity.  bring  them  to  armenelos  one  and  all,  into  the  agorá—  until  they  cannot  abide  by  their  own  lies  any  longer.  though  he  had  never  understood  one  of  the  greatest  marvels  of  humanity:  to  believe  so  firmly  in  something  that  cannot  be  justified,  comprehended,  grasped  or  laid  out  with  logic.  in  tar-gimlizôr's  steadfast  defiance  and  rigorous  ban  of  ancient  traditions,  minlubên  found  strength  and  justification.  however,  he  is  a  more  delicate  man  in  such  matters,  able  to  understand  &&  guide  the  hearts  of  others,  despite  the  inability  to  be  moved  by  them.

when  míriel  had  taken  up  the  scepter  for  her  father,  minlubên  had  fallen  further  into  despair.  it  had  been  his  hope  that  the  king's  brother  would  rule  in  his  stead,  though  gimilkhâd  had  perished  at  sea  &&  pharazôn  is  not  fit  to  do  it  in  his  father's  stead  when  the  king  yet  lives.  though  míriel  is  mindful  of  the  shift  of  traditions  that  had  come  with  tar-gimilzôr,  she  staunchly  upholds  the  beliefs  of  her  father  in  opposition  to  the  king's  men.  an  admirable  woman  and  would-be  queen—  &&  how  great  could  she  be,  if  she  saw  the  disregard  of  the  valar  as  it  truly  is:  a  slight,  an  insult.

now  minlubên  is  wiser,  and  his  heart  darkened.  gone  are  boyish  beliefs  of  justice  and  unity—  much  to  the  sorrow  of  his  parents  to  whom  he  has  not  spoken  in  many  years.  while  he  remained  in  armenelos,  they  have  withdrawn  to  rómenna,  escaping  the  brewing  tension  of  the  capital  &&  a  son  they  could  not  reach.  among  the  ârûwânai  he  holds  great  sway,  his  opinions  and  counsel  heard  at  court  during  assemblies  of  the  citizenry  as  one  of  the  learned  among  them.  thus  the  arrival  of  a  she-elf  to  anadûnê  remains  no  secret  for  long,  her  presence  tolerated  at  best  on  the  behest  of  the  queen  regent.  to  his  ears  it  sounds  strange  that  she  would  turn  up  as  shipwrecked  driftwood,  when  not  one  of  the  eldar  has  ever  sailed  remotely  close  to  númenor  for  a  long  time  now.  and  in  company  of  a  lost  king  from  the  south  no  less.

minlubên  has  not  restricted  himself  to  númenor  in  past  years,  and  has  traveled  to  the  far  reaches  of  khand,  ventured  into  harad.  none  of  the  rumors  yet  reveal  to  him  which  southlands  are  being  referred  to,  information  scarce  and  nebulous.  it  is  being  said  however  that  she  has  left  quite  the  impression,  citing  demands  with  confidence.  while  deep  hostility  within  his  heart  remains  almost  as  a  reflex,  he  does  wish  to  speak  to  her.  practically  overnight,  the  lady  galadriel  has  made  herself  an  important  political  figure  merely  by  existing  &&  by  the  severity  of  her  claims.  for  númenor  to  involve  itself  in  a  war  that  does  not  yet  concern  them—  when  no  evidence  speaks  of  a  return  of  The  Enemy.  and  that  he  can  say  with  some  confidence,  as  númenor  entertains  costal  settlements  along  the  shores  of  middle  earth,  most  prominently  the  great  haven  of  umbar.

sedate  steps  are  accompanied  by  the  soft  jangle  of  iron  jewelry  and  black  pearls—  the  adornments  of  a  dôlguzîr,  one  who  dedicates  crafts  and  studies  to  death,  and  the  great  beyond.  likened  to  the  catacomb  saints  of  armenelos,  the  finery  of  the  living  is  much  more  humble;  merely  a  representation  of  dedication  and  status.  his  steps  take  him  up  grand  &&  white  stairs—  where  the  palace  and  official  buildings  such  as  the  agorá  and  the  grand  university  halls  sit  upon  a  great  hill.  indeed  he  hopes  to  spy  her  here  &&  strike  up  conversation,  if  he  is  lucky  enough.

with  his  thoughts  thus  occupied,  minlubên  is  not  aware  of  the  shadow  in  his  periphery,  moving  so  very  quickly.  indeed,  he  is  a  scholar,  a  politician—  many  things,  but  not  a  warrior.  and  why  would  he  be  worried  here,  in  armenelos?  certainly,  his  speeches  and  rhetoric  stir  the  hearts,  but  it  ends  there,  no?  once  he  senses  the  presence  of  another,  it  is  too  late.  he  is  just  turning  to  address  the  person,  when  a  dagger  is  being  thrust  into  his  side,  the  person  gone  as  quickly  as  they  appeared.  the  whole  situation  is  so  unthinkable,  so  quick  and  altogether  strange,  that  the  pain  does  not  even  register  with  the  tall  adûnai  at  first.  even  then,  he  manages  only  a  strained  exhalation,  his  hand  covering  the  wound  where  the  dagger  remains  lodged  in  his  flesh.  headstrong  and  proud,  minlubên  fights  the  dizziness  that  comes  with  the  shock  of  sudden  injury,  pain  radiating  through  his  back  and  stomach  making  him  feel  sick.  leaning  against  a  wall  he  groans,  watches  great  blotches  of  his  blood  pour  between  his  fingers  and  water  the  ground.

had  his  vision  gone  dark  for  a  moment?  when  next  he  comes  to,  minlubên  is  still  standing  right  where  he  stopped,  although  a  pair  of  fair,  strong  hands  presses  around  the  dagger,  over  his  own.  pale  blue  eyes  squint  against  a  head  of  radiant,  golden  hair—  shining  in  the  midday  sun  like  gold.  as  though  a  fire  has  been  lit  within  the  very  strands  themselves.  it  is  then  that  his  attention,  fickle  as  it  is,  falls  upon  the  small  point  of  elven  ears.  despite  himself,  minlubên  manages  a  weak  chuckle,  his  voice  strained.

❛  how  auspicious  that  it  is  thee  who  wouldst  find  me.  i  have-  ah,  i  have  been  meaning  to  speak  to  thee,  in  fact.  and  now  it  is  thou,  saving  me.  do  elves  greatly  care  for  fate?  ❜

[celebqinga]

@ga1adriel asked: "The closer they come, the further we drift."

Arondir   stood   silent,   the   weight   of   Galadriel's   words   settling   over   him   like   a   heavy   mist.   His   gaze,   sharp   and   unwavering,   lingered   on   her   eyes,   searching   for   any   trace   of   hesitation   behind   her   resolute   expression.   Eyes   linger   on   the   ring   she   bears   and   then   to   the   stars   above   them.

The   breeze   carried   the   scent   of   pine   and   damp   earth,   but   even   nature's   music   seemed   distant   now,   as   if   the   world   itself   had   paused   to   listen.   He   drew   in   a   slow   breath,   his   hands   resting   lightly   on   the   hilt   of   his   bow.   "We   are   bound   to   defend   these   lands,"   he   replied,   his   voice   low   and   steady,   like   the   river   that   refused   to   be   stopped   by   stone.   "Bound   to   sacrifice.   As   long   as   we   drift   closer   to   those   who   neeed   protection."

He   had   failed   in   his   task   once,   Mordor   stood   on   the   failures   of   his   guardianship,   a   shadow   of   vulnerability   flickered   in   his   emerald   eyes.   "If   distance   is   the   price   of   their   safety,"   he   continued,   "How   do   we   bridge   what   is   lost   in   the   fight   to   save   them?"

The   silence   stretched   between   them,   filled   with   unsaid   words   and   the   shared   burden   of   warriors   who   fought,   not   only   against   enemies   but   against   the   growing   chasm   between   heart   and   duty.

[oakthcrn]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄, 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

accepting @ga1adriel

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐉𝐀𝐖 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃. She was going into the lion's den, and she felt Galadriel's eyes on her. Her King needed eyes in Mordor, and Lark was skilled enough to remain hidden. Still, there was brewing dread within her. This new land…land of evil and smog. Lark could very well be going to her death. Still, she will march, her king demands it. 

❝ 𝐘𝐞𝐬…𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬…❞ She frowned and looked to Galadriel. 

❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐞𝐬? 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. ❞ 

[uruuk]

"A CORRUPTED AND IGNOBLE RACE, WORTHY ONLY TO BE HUNTED AND SLAUGHTERED." "YOUR KIND WAS A MISTAKE. MADE IN MOCKERY. AND EVEN IF IT TAKES ME ALL OF THIS AGE, I VOW TO ERRADICATE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU". layered voices whisper in his mind, replaying themselves. STILL ECHOING, WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HIMSELF WITH INHALE. "THEY'RE NOT CHILDREN, THEY ARE SLAVES." such a different song than she sings to him now. fire diminished to almost tired defeat, that she gathers with unshed dignity, and allows it to harden her once more. AND YET DESPITE HAVING GIVEN HER SUCH A SIMILAR LOOK AS HE REMEMBERS GIVING TO SAURON LONG AGO, HE CANNOT BLAME HER. NOT KNOWING WHAT HE DOES NOW. even then she had been consumed by that same desire, when little did she know he was playing her for a fool.

EVEN WHEN SHE INSISTS ON HIS OWN DESIRE, THE LOOK HE GIVES HER WHEN LIPS RE-FORM LINE IS ONE OF PITY. one that lacks harshness, with welling wetness deepening the almost curve of his lips and narrow of brows in a wistful smile. unable to rid his thoughts of times of which he'd adored mairon, and where he truly believed he adored him in turn. KNOWS THE SAME KIND TOUCH, AND THE SAME PROMISE OF BEING AT HIS SIDE. FOR SHE IS BEGINNING TO SEE. beginning to look at him, as if he knew that same part of herself she dared not acknowledge. THAT HER BLOOD RUNS WITH THE SAME VENOM AS HE WAS BID TO CARRY.

BIRD IS KEPT IN A CAGE IN FEAR SHE WILL NOT ACCEPT HIS TERMS. THAT SHE WOULD FLEE FROM HIM, AND ALL OF THIS WOULD BE A BITTERSWEET DREAM. harbouring violence and force bred within his veins. TWO HOLLOW VESSELS CRYING OUT FOR VENGEANCE. FOR THEY SHARE THE SAME NEEDS. CONSUMED, BY THEM. however, he's long since forsook fighting in his own name. BUT FOR THOSE OF WHOM HE LOVES, he must finish this.

"yes." he exhales, deeply. shamefully, albeit. "i wanted it." HE ADMITTED WITH A WHISPER OF A BREATH. "our kind, at that time, having never known a word for death . . . and yet, i found myself to be facing it." HIS WELLING EYES FLICKER. did i not deserve to be free? WHAT CHOICE DID HE HAVE? BETWEEN LIFE, AND THAT WHICH HE COULD NOT CONTEMPLATE? he breathes out, suddenly hardening. looking away from her.

THERE'S A LONG PAUSE. he was the only one of thirteen. THE ONLY ONE TO SURVIVE THEIR REBIRTH.

"i thought i had done so, once." HE CONTINUES. standing, as he looks down at her. LUMBERING FORTH TOWARD LOCK HE CLANKS IT FROM WHERE IT LAY AND PROCURES A KEY FROM SOMEWHERE HIDDEN. "though i intend to do so again. this time, with your help." he unlocks the cage, pulling the door away and offering an outstretched hand. "come, alatáriel. if you truly speak with intention." a pause, as he blinks in earnest. "as i did, when i told you that a star shines on the hour of our meeting."

:  ̗̀➛  *ೃ༄  SHE FEELS LIKE AN ANIMAL WITH THESE CONFINES ; and in truth she supposes she is one. one that is given the freedom of movement and sight. no chains shackle her wrists, no steel at her throat to hold her down. but they both know that it is something else which keeps her held tightly within his grip. galadriel's tongue flickers at her raw and bloodied lips , her own ichor the only susinance she allows - and she is greedy for the metallic salty tang it offers beneath her tongue. her eyes close as it paints the inside of her mouth, running between teeth and gums as she looks back to him through the darkness, his voice settling upon her.

there is a beauty there, she thinks. in a ruining of purity there is creation also, buried deep and wrapped carefully within the layers of her own disgust. exhaustion pours over her again like a warm blanket - her mind swimming as she inhales sharply to seek out the night air that brings her back and inside of her own body once more.

beyond her sight, his children scurry around the periphery of her senses - outside of the tent but afraid to step inside. perhaps they, in all of their waste and discomfort, can sense the shift of power within. she has ended so many of them on her blade , finrod's dagger the cause of so much dark bloodshed over the centuries. black slick tainting the gold and silver forged in the bright and unrelenting glory of the two trees. but it is no more, poured into the ring long gone - no longer insistant and hot against her finger.

❛   ...you wanted it.  ❜  galadriel's words feel tainted, foreign against the dry lining of her mouth as it opens to speak, another deeper feeling spilling forth. she is not a creature built from despair and yet the darkness that has taken root in her very fea quickens, greedy and alien - seeking to fill her up with it's venom. had she wanted this ?  had either of them truly wanted to take sucker from the poison that was offered ? yet they had - and all that was left was the empty pitted feeling of his absence.

but there was no other choice. NO OTHER WAY IT COULD HAVE BEEN. she had wanted it to, wanted to believe in the power sauron had offered her was TRUE - with a based need that was so primal it cut her to the quick to consider now. perhaps she is animal. perhaps there is nothing more to either of them.

❛   there is no shame in it. the desire for more than you can imagine, more than you deserve. i wanted so much and now i am left with nothing more than the need to see him destroyed.   ❜  knuckles tighten at the bars of her cage. the prison HE has placed her within. her torment and peace colliding as she leans forward closer to where adar crouches with eyes wide open - the tempest within them rough and swirling as she growls outloud, exposing herself.

❛   let me end him. i will bury him within the earth he craves dominion over. i will silence his voice in our heads - only your children will remain.   ❜ 

[celevrian]

WHICH LOVER ARE YOU ?

The Painter

Love is everywhere to you. It's in the shadows under people's eyes and the ghost of their laughter. You profess your love quietly and slowly, it trickles out of you in colourful streams. To you, love is a powerful, monumental thing that runs deep through every creature on earth. It is a force to be reckoned with.

Stole this from: @heireign i think...

Giving this like Robin Hood to: @scion-of-kings @whichofsummer @ga1adriel @sungsilver @pxnxply ( amroth mayhaps? ) @jewelbeloved

[pertadhel]

WHICH TAROT CARD ARE YOU ?

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃   𝐌𝐀𝐍.   does   it   make   you   feel   better–   taking   all   this   blame?   the   world   is   heavy.   does   the   weight   on   your   shoulders   envelop   you?   does   it   make   you   feel   safe?   why   does   the   need   for   grounding   outweigh   your   sinking   feet?   suspend   yourself–   tie   yourself   to   something   if   you   must.   you   have   a   wonderful   gift.   looking   at   the   world   through   compound   eyes   is   a   test   of   empathy.   you   have   the   heart   for   it.   do   not   sink   below   your   eyes.   /NUMBER:   12  /UPRIGHT:   pause,   surrender,   letting   go,   new   perspectives   /REVERSED:   delays,   resistance,   stalling,   indecision

tagged by: @calantar tagging: @celevrian , @iriysse , @heireign , @aeternaalis , @realmscruelty , @scion-of-kings , @ga1adriel and anyone who sees this!

[heireign]

MORALITY ALIGNMENT TEST — YOU ARE: LAWFUL GOOD.

people who are lawful good believe that an orderly, strong society with a moral government can work to make life better for the great majority of the people. when the laws are fair and the people respect them and try to help one another, humanity as a whole prospers. therefore, people who are lawful good strive for a social order that will bring the greatest benefit to everyone and cause the least harm. lawful good personalities may sometimes find themselves faced with the dilemma of whether to obey the law or do good when the two conflict. for example, when upholding the law of the land would lead to unfairness or harm or when there is a conflict between two orders of what is right, such as between the ways of their community and the law of the government.

tagged by: taken from @lightburnsyou 🫶

tagging: @lcerys , @daekarys , @lenfear , @stormbcrn , @ga1adriel , @greydeath , @maidmyth and @sanctamater

[muutos]

"galadriel -" there's a sigh heavy 'pon lord of gifts, the greenery of the outskirts of ost-in-edhil almost entirely separated from the darkness and despair of the city.. his voice has woven within an unhidden breath akin to parent heavily scolding their young, whilst head dips in forwards stride to follow her swift exit. still she seems so intent to hide her mind from his reach, however fruitless she knows it to be. knows why she resists, yet resents it, and the patience end of his hour glass has long since run thin . . .

fingers reach impossibly to grasp tightly at porcelain wrist. perfection, undeserving of such plight.

he could mend it all, if she only allowed. purge it all away.

"it is not too late for us." his eyes are all-too earnest in her snap forth, absorbing the fury of her anger and reflecting in deep eyes. stricken with a tinge of pleading. even with his iron crown still hanging from clenched fingers, tight about his prize. "you loved me once. why not now?" his brows eek inward, softly. searching. "fighting by your side, i believed that if only i could hold onto that influence, i could be a true, and noble lord. not a dark one."

@ga1adriel. starter call.

[mvndrvke]

Celeborn smiles cautiously at her words, and gives a small nod. He lets her pull him into movement, bare feet barely making a sound as he walks beside her.

"The paths are no longer familiar to me," he admits as they walk, gaze moving around as he tries to remember each and every detail. "I have found myself lost more than walking familiar halls since I arrived."

It's been frustrating, but he has time to relearn, to understand. He's trying to grant himself a little more grace.

He squints each time they walk past the large windows, eyes burning in the bright sunlight that he's been a stranger to for so long.

"It brought me joy to see the Great Tree once again flourishing," he says to fill the silence between them. He glances at Galadriel. "The High King said it was the work of the rings."

It is a simple request and yet , she has walked alone for so long now she can barely remember what it is to truly be with another — ( and perhaps there was a time she considered that being alone was not the cruelest way to pass the time, when the bond she had shaken off was nothing more than a punishment for her temptation - the lick of monstrous flames at her core only seeking to remind her that she is never truly alone ) ocean eyes flickering down from his face to look at where there hands join with no other thought than perhaps she has forgotten how to be with him. They are neither of them the same as they once were - and yet the sweet song that carries beneath his words hums a melody all too familiar despite the space that feels so vast between their hearts.

❛ this is no dream. ❜ Perhaps it is more of a reminder to herself, her feet feeling heavy upon the wooden floor of the room as she regards their hands once more. galadriel holds celeborn as tenderly as her blade , a guarded protection she dare not release lest the light within her fade once more.

❛ come, let me show you the way. then perhaps you can take me where you wish to go. we do not need to stray from the familiar paths — the trees will remember your face, i am sure of it. ❜

The pull of her palm against his is gentle as she turns toward the door that remains open , the dappled sunlight and birdsong a balm to her when she needs it most — calling to them to step through the threshold together.

[oflorien]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘.  daughter  stands  before  mother,  her  throat  catches  every  emotion  in  a  sham  show  of  strength.  if  she  could  encapsulate  even  a  portion  of  her  courage  it  would  be  enough  to  shine  upon  the  entirety  of  imaldris.  she  could  only  be  so  lucky  in  time.  a  cloak  the  same  hue  as  the  lavender  which  grew  wild  in  lorien,  a  silver  grey  thread  woven  through  reminds  of  her  beloved's  eyes.  a  home  left  and  one  gained  in  its  stead,  a  harmony  of  all  that  makes  her.  ❛ amillë...  ❜  gracious  hands  reach  for  the  garment,  a  soft  line  of  fur  beneath  her  palm  catches  the  line  of  her  gaze.  to  still  herself.

all  in  vain  it  seems,  the  trickle  of  tears  spills  from  golden  eyes.  It  is  a  moment  that  fleets  and  she  is  a  child  once  more,  at  the  edge  of  independence,  frayed  little  nerves  wishing  to  hide  in  her  mother's  embrace.  a  wistful  smile  blooms.  ❛ this  is  beautiful,  thank  you.  ❜  the  crossroads  of  time;  uncertainty  and  elation  thread  as  one.  to  live  a  life  of  her  own  means  leaving  one  behind.  all  in  love,  blessed  was  she  to  know  nothing  else.  homesickness  held  within  yet,  forgotten  in  the  light  of  the  kindest  summer.  a  hand  that  reaches  for  her  mother,  gentle  grip  insistent  with  the  tremble  of  celebrían's  voice.  ❛ you  are  not  leaving  so  soon,  are  you?  ❜

i brought you something. it gets cold in Imladris in the wintertime. @ga1adriel 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 // 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

[putrid-tongue]

BODY LANGUAGE edition

bold/italicize whichever applies! repost if you wish to use. i have put the unedited version beneath a 'read more' cut, so you do not have to edit it. feel free to adjust / add && edit as you see fit!

DEFENSIVENESS:  arms  crossed  on  chest  //  crossing  legs  //  fist-like  gestures  //  pointing  index  finger  //  karate  chops  //  stiffening  of  shoulders  //  tense  posture  //  curling  of  lip/baring  of  teeth

REFLECTIVE:  hand-to-face  gestures  //  head  tilted  //  stroking  chin  //  peering  over  glasses  //  taking  glasses  off  —  cleaning  //  putting  earpiece  of  glasses  in  mouth  //  pipe  smoker  gestures  //putting  hand  to  the  bridge  of  the  nose  //  pursed  lips  //  knitted  brows  //  staring  off  into  distance

SUSPICION:  arms  crossed  //  sideways  glance  //  touching  or  rubbing  nose  //  rubbing  eyes  //  hands  resting  on  weapon  //  brows  raising  //  lips  pressing  into  a  thin  line  //  strict,  unwavering  eye  contact  //  wrinkling  of  nose

OPENNESS  &  COOPERATION: open  hands  //  upper  body  in  sprinters  position  //  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  //  hand-to-face  gestures  //  unbuttoned  coat  //  tilted  head  //  slacked  shoulders  //  droopy  posture  //feet  pointed  outward  //  palms  flat  and  facing  outward

CONFIDENCE:  hands  behind  back  //  hands  on  lapels  of  coat  //  steepled  hands  //  baring  teeth  in  a  grin  //rolling  shoulders  //  tipping  head  back  but  maintaining  eye  contact  //  chest  puffed  up/shoulders  back  //  arms  folded  just  above  navel

INSECURITY  &  ANXIETY:  chewing  pen  or  pencil  //  rubbing  thumb  over  opposite  thumb  //  biting  fingernails  //  hands  in  pockets  //  elbow  bent/closed  gestures  //  clearing  throat  //  “whew”  sound  //  picking  or  pinching  flesh  //  fidgeting  in  chair  //  hand  covering  mouth  whilst  speaking  //  poor  eye  contact  //  tugging  at  pants  whilst  seated  //  jingling  money  in  pockets  //  tugging  at  ear  //  perspiring  hands  //  playing  with  hair  //  swaying  //  playing  with  pointer/marker  //  smacking  lips  //  sighing  //  rocking  on  balls  of  feet  //  flexing  fingers  sporadically

FRUSTRATION:  short  breaths  //  “tsk”  sounds  //  tightly-clenched  hands  //  fist-like  gestures  //  pointing  index  finger  //  running  hand  through  hair  //  rubbing  back  of  neck  //  snarling  //  revealing  teeth/grimacing  //  sharp-eyed  glowers  with  notable  tension  in  the  brows  //  shoulders  back,  head  up  -  defensive  posturing  //  clenching  of  jaw/grinding  teeth  //  nostrils  flaring  //  heavy  exhales

tagging: @menelvagor (for any muse you like!), @prvtocol , @oflorien , @ienemy , @iriysse , @admirableringmaker , @elr0nds , @leg0lais , @uruuk , @muutos (any muse you would like to do this for!), @ga1adriel , @m0rlain , @jewelbeloved , @springsdawn , @infernonetwork (for sméagol?)

if i haven't tagged you and you wish to do this, please go for it! in the same vein, if this isn't for you, feel free to ignore of course. have fun! alternatively let me know if you don't wish to be tagged in posts of this nature.

DEFENSIVENESS: arms crossed on chest // crossing legs // fist-like gestures // pointing index finger // karate chops // stiffening of shoulders // tense posture // curling of lip/baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE: hand-to-face gestures // head tilted // stroking chin // peering over glasses // taking glasses off — cleaning // putting earpiece of glasses in mouth // pipe smoker gestures //putting hand to the bridge of the nose // pursed lips // knitted brows

SUSPICION: arms crossed // sideways glance // touching or rubbing nose // rubbing eyes // hands resting on weapon // brows raising // lips pressing into a thin line // strict, unwavering eye contact // wrinkling of nose

OPENNESS & COOPERATION: open hands // upper body in sprinters position // sitting on the edge of a chair // hand-to-face gestures // unbuttoned coat // tilted head // slacked shoulders // droopy posture //feet pointed outward // palms flat and facing outward

CONFIDENCE: hands behind back // hands on lapels of coat // steepled hands // baring teeth in a grin //rolling shoulders // tipping head back but maintaining eye contact // chest puffed up/shoulders back // arms folded just above navel

INSECURITY & ANXIETY: chewing pen or pencil // rubbing thumb over opposite thumb // biting fingernails // hands in pockets // elbow bent/closed gestures // clearing throat // “whew” sound // picking or pinching flesh // fidgeting in chair // hand covering mouth whilst speaking // poor eye contact // tugging at pants whilst seated // jingling money in pockets // tugging at ear // perspiring hands // playing with hair // swaying // playing with pointer/marker // smacking lips // sighing // rocking on balls of feet // flexing fingers sporadically

FRUSTRATION: short breaths // “tsk” sounds // tightly-clenched hands // fist-like gestures // pointing index finger // running hand through hair // rubbing back of neck // snarling // revealing teeth/grimacing // sharp-eyed glowers with notable tension in the brows // shoulders back, head up - defensive posturing // clenching of jaw/grinding teeth // nostrils flaring // heavy exhales

[oakthcrn]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒. She would miss her parents dearly, but they deserve to feel the light of Valinor upon their faces. Their service had been long and devoted. They tried to hide it, but their souls were growing old, while time did not touch his hand upon the cheeks of the Eldar, there was a sense that her parents were ready for retirement and she was not going to stand in the way of that. 

It was good to hear that the 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍 did not think of her as petulant or selfish for wanting them to stay. When the time came, she would see her parents off at the Gray Havens, and then she would have to learn to live without them. A small ache pooled in her chest and she placed a hand over it as if to quell it. Her parents deserved all the happiness that Valinor could offer. There was comfort in knowing she would one day look upon them again. 

Lark offered a small smile to Galadriel and shook her head. 

❝ 𝐀𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧. ❞ She said with great reverence.

 ❝ 𝐓𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞. ❞ Loyal to a fault was a family trait, it seemed. Canting her head to the side, she continued. 

❝ 𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ��𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭. ❞ She was a child, but the vestiges of memory she held dear, and the construction of Lindon was one of them. Oh, how she could recall the sweet moments of her father lifting her to show her the ramparts and talking about how the walls were made, or when her mother would take her into the markets. She recalled the sea of stalls of vibrant colors and how she went into a lecture on the history of Elven cities past. Lark remembered it all and held those lessons close to her heart. 

❝ 𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. ❞ 

❛ Wishing them well and mourning their loss are not thoughts than cannot exist together - ❜ Galadriel's fingers knit together as her hands cross, digits ideally stroking gently over the rings of gold that litter her skin. There is a familiar sensation there - one that is not entirely welcome, all mention of the undying lands sparking something within her that sets her very fëa aflame. A rush of emotion channeled slowly into the movements of her hands, her temperance remaining untouched.

She can understand the pull, the tug that feels as if it comes from deep inside of her. It is the fight that hurts the most, the knowledge that no matter how strong her natural urge to journey west it is something that she cannot surrender too. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

❛ You are not selfish. You simply have a heart that longs to be beside the ones you love. It not a weakness to feel their loss. ❜

Lark is young. She has not seen what exists beyond the boundaries set in earth and stone by the rolling hills of Middle Earth that work to protect her peace. Yet somehow she sees her brother in every falling leaf and tumbling stream. His gentle eyes and easy smile. Troubled eyes flicker downwards momentarily - blinking upwards with haste, searching out the other's face as if seeking clarity - instead she finds freckles that dust across fine features as if covering them in cascading starlight.

There are times Galadriel wishes she could step back to Valinor if only for a moment. To gaze upon Finrod one more time. But she will endure here because she must - because she has no other choice.

❛ Will you stay in Eregion ? Or perhaps will you return here to Lindon ? ❜

[uruuk]

Which is Your Morality Alignment?

Your  Result: Chaotic Neutral  (  80%  )

You hold your freedom as your most treasured possession and may be willing to do whatever is necessary to maintain it. In a conflict between two outside forces, you may play both sides to help you gain what you desire, which can be dangerous if not handled wisely; simultaneously, you may not necessarily act so strongly to defend others' freedom. This lack of regard for authority and its constraints, with no true animosity for humanity, moulds you into the archetypal "maverick".

tagged by: @iriysse tagging: @ienemy, @ga1adriel, @astridnorddottir, @divinehr