#hill of the slain

[tolkienillustrations]

The Hill of the Slain by Ted Nasmith

[nerdanaro]

Cairn burial!!!!!

TL;DR, Morgoth is saying “I did this. Fear me.”

Cairns and earthen mounds (like Haudh-en-Elleth, where Finduilas is buried) also alter the natural landscape in a noticeable way, making it so that even if passers-by don’t know exactly who is buried there or what happened, they know it was someone and that the event and/or person was significant. See this article for more on that (it should be open access availability).

We know of cairns built over cremation burials as well as inhumations (burials in the ground), which was the most common burial type in the Northern European Bronze Age (see here). If a body burns accidentally though, there is the risk that the ashes blow away, so that might explain the lack of cairns/organised burial for, for instance, Fëanor.

I mentioned Haudh-en-Elleth (mound of the elf-woman) over Haudh-en-Ndengin (mound of the slain) here because while the first fits the pattern I mentioned earlier, by way of the Haladin erecting a burial mound to memorialise those entombed there, the Mound of the Slain is an exception.

Ordinarily, it would not be uncommon for Germanic Iron Age burials in the context of an armed conflict to contain both the deceased and their weapons and gear. (I reference this period and culture given Tolkien’s academic background in Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Norse history, as well as my own in Norse history and culture). Giving the bodies and spoils of a defeated host to a deity or supernatural entity is thought to have been an offering to ensure continued victory going forward. This often occurred in a sacred area or in water, whose liminality, due to it being uninhabitable for humans, connected it to the plane where the supernatural operated, like a layer of reality on top of the mortal one.

As far as I can tell, there is no special significance to Morgoth for the location of Haudh-en-Ndengin, nor something he would be making an offering to. Let’s circle back to the memory aspect of cairns, though. I assume a LOT of individuals died at the Nirnaeth. If you were to put them in a pile, gear and all, that would be a TALL pile. It’s also in Anfauglith, which has been razed, creating even more contrast between the mound and the surrounding area. Anyone in the area would be able to see the mound, and be reminded that something immense had happened there. Even if Morgoth and the Nirnaeth had passed out of memory.

This is Morgoth memorialising his deed, the slaughter of a large portion of the Noldorin host. It is a warning against fighting him in the future.

(Also going back to cremation, I imagine there would be a cultural fear of destroying the hroä after death, at least at first after arriving in Beleriand from Valinor. If you die, where will the Valar put your fëa? This, of course, presupposes an attachment to one’s hroä as part of the self along with the fëa, however, and I’m not sure if Tolkien’s Christian sensibilities would agree with me.)

(And a fun linguistic note: the name Haudh-en-ndengin is derived from the Old English hlæw-of-dīeġed! For funsies, the Old Norse equivalent would be Haug-Dáinna, which is more literally ‘mound of the dead’.)

I think, after Fëanor's fiery death, the Fëanorians burned their dead. Which went against the custom of burying the dead among the Eldar.

Burial was seen as the acceptable method of returning the hröa to Eru, to be reworked into the Song. But burning was frowned upon as it disintegrated the body Ilúvatar had given. It was considered a deliberate destruction of His creation.

So Fëanor's act of self-combustion and his followers' insistence on well, following in his steps was yet another act of defiance on their part.

[starscreamingg]

Honestly transformers one deserves a medal for being the first transformers. Thing. In like five years to make me actually like and want to see bumblebee

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

The Hill of the Slain by Ted Nasmith

[duhragonball]

Neon Genesis Evangelion 05

I heard they put a lot of crosses in this show, sort of like how Revolutionary Girl Utena put a bunch of phallic symbols everywhere. It doesn't really impress me much, although I just considered that Dracula must really hate this anime.

This is the episode where they really get into what Rei's whole deal is. Up to now, she's been a background character with only a few lines, but she's supposed to have been doing this Eva piloting thing longer than Shinji, so what's that all about?

To begin with, we flash back to the experiment where Rei got the injuries we saw in Episode 1. At first, I just took it for granted that she had been hurt in combat, or some sort of accident during a training exercise, or her Eva violently rejected her connection to it. But here we see that they were just trying to get Eva Unit 00 to turn on, and then something went wrong and the Eva went nuts and started convulsing and attacking the observation booth with Gendo and the others.

During this mayhem, Unit 00's power cable is severed, and the pilot capsule ejects. I think Rei caused both of those things in an effort to get the situation under control. The Eva still had a few seconds of battery power, and maybe the absence of a pilot helped. It's also possible that these were actions triggered by the computer jockeys monitoring the experiment, or it was random stuff that happened while the Unit went nuts. Anyway, the pilot capsule has thrusters to carry it away from the Eva, except this test is being run in an enclosed space, so it just flies into the nearest corner of the ceiling and then drops like a stone when the propellant runs out.

Horrified, Gendo rushes down to get Rei out of the capsule, and he burns his hands on the hatch. Not sure why it would be hot, but whatever. He's so upset that he just powers through it and removes the hatch anyway, burning his hands in the process.

And then we get this shot, which looks really fucking cool. There's a lot to unpack here. Rei's supposed to be an injured fourteen-year-old girl, but they drew her like Captain Marvel or something. I'm not sure if this is intentional or not, but I think it comes up a lot. Anyway, you'll notice how upset Gendo is about this. He's not just worried about losing his only Eva pilot. He genuinely cares for Rei's safety, showing emotions we've never seen from him until now.

Anyway, she nods to him to confirm she's still alive, and as he breathes a sigh of relief, we see his glasses break, I guess from the heat and the whole commotion or something. Anyway, that's the flashback.

There's a pointless scene in the present where Shinji accompanies Misato and Ritsuko on an excavation of... something. Maybe it's the remains of the Angel Shinji killed in episode 3? It doesn't matter, because Ritsuko's equipment can't analyze the samples. They know that the Angels are composed of some bizarre form of matter, analagous to light? I guess? And even though it's completely alien to them, there are patterns in the matter that match humans. Match them how, exactly?

Shinji notices his father at another part of this facility and he asks about the burns on his hands. So Ritsuko tells the story of that botched Unit 00 experiment we just went over. Shinji is amazed to hear that his dad would go to such lengths for Rei.

At school, the boys ogle the girls during their swimming practice or whatever, and Suzuhara and Big Rigg Mahoney accuse Shinji of having the hots for Rei Ayanami. He denies it, but admits he's curious about her.

Later, during some training exercise, Shinji sees Rei and his dad talking, and they're both smiling, which is creepy as fuck. Ew, stop it. I'm not sure if Shinji is jealous or just confused that his dad actually feels affection towards another human being.

At Misato's house, everyone's eating curry and beer. Even the penguins.

Come on, Oswald, try a bite, it'll put hair on your chest.

Ritsuko gives Shinji a new ID card made for Rei. I guess the ID's have to be renewed every so often, and she kept forgetting to give it to Rei at work, so she wants him to go to her place and do it. Misato thinks Shinji has a crush on Rei, and he denies it. He's just curious about Rei getting along so well with his dad. Ritsuko explains that they're kind of like kindred spirits, in that they both aren't very good at "living." Ouch. In any case, he's got an official reason to go meet her and find out about her for himself.

Yeah, let me back up a bit.

So he shows up at her apartment and when she doesn't answer the buzzer he just lets himself in, and sees all the bloody bandages from when she was injured. Then he finds Gendo's broken glasses from the flashback and puts them on. Then Rei finally comes out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel. She sees him wearing the glasses and immediately tries to take them back, since they clearly mean a lot to her. But they end up falling over and a drawer full of underwear spills and yeah, I think that gets us up to speed. Also Shinji's left hand is planted on her boob.

Yeah.

Shinji akwardly tries to explain himself, but Rei doesn't care. She just gets dressed and leaves to go to work. Shinji catches up to her when her ID card doesn't work, and he hands her the new one that does. He continues to follow her and asks if she's afraid of experimenting with Unit 00, since she already got hurt once before. Incredulous, she asks him if he has faith in his father's work.

Shinji's response intrigues me, because I had trouble telling before whether he and his dad are just really estranged or he's afraid of him or something else. But now it looks more like he's got some sort of grudge against him. He talks about his dad like he's a bitter enemy that everyone else would know to distrust as well.

She slaps him for that. Whatever happened between Shinji and Gendo, she remains loyal to him, perhaps to a fault.

At the base, Gendo and Rei resume their work on Unit 00, and it looks like they managed to get it right this time, but then another Angel attacks Tokyo-3, forcing them to abort the test run. Since neither Rei nor Unit 00 are ready for the field, Gendo sends Shinji in Unit 01 instead.

This is the fifth Angel, and the third one we've seen so far. It... well this was certainly a choice. Anyway, Shinji deploys to fight it, but...

Before he can even get out of the gate, the Angel fires some sort of heat ray at his Eva right away. It's like the Angel knew exactly where to strike first. Maybe this one studied the footage of Shinji's previous battles and learned a new strat.

And that's the end of the episode. The next episode preview says that Rei will come to Shinji's aid, so I'm starting to notice the pattern here. The Angels are showing up more frequently, and they're getting smarter and stronger each time. If this one knows to take the fight to Shinji, then it'll probably take two Evas to beat it, and that means the next one might be strong enough to need three Evas, and so on.

I don't think we got a complete picture of Rei in this one, but it's a two-parter, apparently, so that's okay. I'm not really keen on the parts where all the boys talked about how hot she is, or all the partial nudity, but we'll get into that at another time.

I'm much more interested in her friendship with Gendo, since they seem so distant from everyone else. But they're not going to spill the beans on that right away.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Hill of Slain by Ted Nasmith :: [Guillaume Gris]

* * * *

A letter from Jung on depression:

"Dear N.,

I am sorry you are so miserable. "Depression'" means literally "being forced downwards."

This can happen even when you don't consciously have any feeling at all of being "on top"!

So I wouldn't dismiss this hypothesis out of hand.

If I had to live in a foreign country, I would seek out one or two people who seemed amiable and would make myself useful to them, so that libido came to me from outside, even though in a somewhat primitive form, say of a dog wagging its tail.

I would raise animals and plants and find joy in their thriving. I would surround myself with beauty - no matter how primitive and artless - objects, colours, sounds.

I would eat and drink well.

When the darkness grows denser, I would penetrate to its very core and ground, and would not rest until amid the pain a light appeared to me, for in excessu affectus [in an excess of affect or passion] Nature reverses herself.

I would turn in rage against myself and with the heat of my rage I would melt my lead.

I would renounce everything and engage in the lowest activities should my depression drive me to violence.

I would wrestle with the dark angel until he dislocated my hip. For he is also the light and the blue sky which he withholds from me. Anyway that is what I would do.

What others would do is another question, which I cannot answer. But for you too there is an instinct either to back out of it or to go down to the depths. But no half-measures or half-heartedness."

[h/t Ian Sanders]

[wings-dings-and-iggyfings]

OH MY GOSH THE GREEN OF RYSEN HILL (Armulyn’s song in ep. 1, in full) I WAS NOT PREPARED

waaaaaaay back in November there was an investor livestream/event where they showed the first two episodes and there was like this whole program before it and most of it wasn’t important but ANDREW SANG THIS SONG and I loved it SO MUCH that I recorded it on my phone off my crappy computer speakers so I could listen to it and not forget it AND NOW IT’S FINALLY OFFICIALLY ON YOUTUBE AHHHHHHHH

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Ted Nasmith (born 1956) He is a Canadian artist, illustrator and architectural renderer. He is best known as an illustrator of J. R. R. Tolkien's works The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. Tolkien praised and commented on his early work, something that encouraged him in his career.

Ted Nasmith (1950) The Hill of Slain

[1five1two]

'The Hill of Slain'. Ted Nasmith.

[morganas-pendragons]

disbelief | elrond peredhel

gif by goodsirs

this is the hurt/comfort elrond fic I promised. enjoy!

summary: you and elrond mourn. Elrond asks something of you.

please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future elrond or celebrimbor fics! this one may get a part 2 because the ideas are FLOWING!

tagging: @celebrimbormylove

SPOILERS FOR 2x08

You know your place is not in the heat of battle. Your gifting has always been music, the lithe fingers of a violinist meant to create beauty within the confines of Lindon's hold. You have made your peace with that.

it does not get any easier when you find out that The High King is having Elrond lead the Elven army to Eregion. Eregion, which is under siege, with Lord Celebrimbor right at the center.

Your heart aches. Celebrimbor is one of Elrond's most beloved kin, and you dread what he may find upon arriving at Eregion.

"He is best suited for this role, and you know it," Gil-Galad remarks as he strides across his study, leaving you to linger by the door as you nervously fiddle with your hands. It is the first time you and Elrond will be apart since your confession of feelings. It is not surprising you are apprehensive to watch him leave. "I do not make promises idly. If I promise that I will return him to you. You do trust my word, do you not?"

"I do, High King."

There's little you can say to Elrond when you meet him at the gate at dawn, still dressed in your nightrobes and tugging messily on your loose hair. It is a nervous habit that you have kept for quite some time that Elrond has tried to break you of by offering to braid your hair every night before you sleep.

You let him. If anything, you are always going to let Elrond treat you with that gentle love he only reserves for you. With those tender touches that cradle you as if you are his most precious, with those eyes that always seek out your own as if he finds respite within your gaze.

As if he finds the ability to embrace the Half-Elven he has hated for so much of his life.

"Meleth nin." Elrond's voice breaks through your reverie as he approaches to cradle your hands in his own. Your aspect softens as you shift closer to press your forehead to his. "You did not need to come see me off. The sun has barely risen over the hills."

"I wish to say goodbye to my beloved," You reply quietly. Reaching into your robes, you produce a handkerchief with your initials pressed into the corner and curl his fingers around it. You'd carefully doused it in the perfume you often wear since your first date in the gardens. "And to tell you to come home to me."

Elrond lifts the handkerchief to his nose and inhales deeply. It is a pleasant scent. One that provokes intimate memories bathed in light.

It is more than enough to keep him fighting.

"I will come home to you." His words are a declaration, a promise written between you both that is sealed with a handkerchief and a kiss shadowed by twilight as you part. "Until then, namárië, my love."

You are left alone at Lindon's gates to watch him depart with the rest of the Elvish army and Gil-Galad. He has specifically asked you to tend to the others who remain while they are both gone, claiming that your ability to create beauty amid such darkness and death was commendable.

The Elves would need it if they were to survive Sauron.

***

The word reaches you through one of the couriers that stumble through Lindon's tree line, bloodied and bruised but carrying a hastily scribbled note from the High King.

Eregion lost. Celebrimbor slain. Return to us with whoever remains in Lindon to this location.. protected by the 3 Rings of Power.

You hold your breath as you scan through the rest of the note.

Elrond is alive.

Relief floods through your body as you scramble back through the gates and begin calling orders to the healers and remaining survivors who remained behind to begin packing their belongings to travel. The group you lead is few, but many of them are in good spirits and are ready to tend to the wounded who fought bravely on the front lines of battle against Sauron.

You're halfway to Gil-Galad's disclosed location when you realize that he's said Celebrimbor has been slain. "Oh, Celebrimbor," You whisper, running the backs of your hands across your eyes as tears blur your vision. You had great respect and a deep admiration for the Elven Smith. He was one of the only elves you'd ever come across who could really understand the depth of your passion for the arts. "Be peaceful, my friend."

Elrond was surely beside himself with grief. You had to find him, and you had to find him soon.

Your party ventured into the cliffs of Gil-Galad's newest sanctuary, guarded by what Elven royal guards remained who guided you toward the waterfall where a makeshift medical tent sat proudly against the rays of sun that fell upon it.

Galadriel is the first to greet you. "It is good to see you, old friend," She greeted, wincing as you pulled your hand away from her shoulder like you had been burned. "I apologize. I was wounded in battle with Sauron."

"You were what-"

She shakes her head and motions to the smaller tent behind the main one. "I know that you have little in the gift of healing, but Elrond could use your care. I had him moved to the secondary tent for more privacy. He is.." Galadriel bowed her head and exhaled quietly. It was only then in that moment that you remember how old she really is. "Wracked with grief over Lord Celebrimbor."

Ah.

"Will you communicate to the King that I have arrived with the remainder of the survivors and healers from Lindon?" You ask. Galadriel complies, murmuring her goodbyes under her breath as you remove your belongings just beside the medical tent and begin your trek up through the center aisle to enter the one Elrond occupies.

You're nearly knocked off your feet by the smell. You have been spared violence and despair for most of your life. To be witness to such devastation brought upon by the hands of Sauron, and to your Elven kin, stirs an anger deep in your belly that you've never felt before. It hurts. It aches.

He sees you before you see him.

"My love?"

Your eyes flicker through the gap in the tent to find a head of matted, bloodied curls and red-rimmed, sunken eyes staring back at you. Elrond looks exactly like Galadriel has described him to look. He looks like the picture of grief.

That ache in your heart festers at the sight of him as you rush forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling yourself up and into his embrace. Elrond grasps you with all the force of a man desperately trying to anchor himself to the world when he'd so easily rather disappear.

"Elrond," You whisper. It is your assurance to know that he is here by that whispered repetition of his name, by feeling the warmth of his skin and the press of metal against your body as he clings to you. "My love-"

"Celebrimbor. Sauron, he-" Elrond snarls quietly into your shoulder as you begin to fumble with removing his armor. You have done it enough times now that the practice is coming more easily. "He took Celebrimbor and killed him. My father said his life was supposed to be in my hands. I tried.. I tried so hard to save his works, but the Uruk burned it and Celebrimbor is dead-"

You can hear the shame he directs at himself as you remove his armor and set it to the side. Elrond has so often taken the weight of other people's responsibilities and expectations upon himself. He wants to be remembered for something other than being Elros' brother, for being the Half-Elven who resides in Lindon. Many of the full-blooded elves have held disdain and contempt against him for something completely out of his control.

He could not control this. Could not control Celebrimbor's decisions or Sauron's actions.

"I mourn Celebrimbor with you, Elrond." You said. You move to step away and grasp the rag and water basin beside you, but Elrond's grip on your body makes it difficult to move. You pause in your place and turn to face him once again, surprised to find his eyes hidden from you and face cast toward the floor. His fingers shake where they lay against your body. "Elrond?"

"His legacy went up in smoke. The Nine are gone, Feanör's statue desecrated, his prints and his works ashes. We don't even have a body to bury. How do we honor him?" His voice breaks as Elrond, for the first time in all the time you have known him, admits defeat. "How do I honor him when I failed?"

You manage to reach far enough to grasp the wet rag between your fingers and turn to face him as you drag it over the stained skin on his face. Elrond's silent tears track down clean, softened skin, and you wipe those away with your thumbs as they come.

"What if we have a funeral?" You suggest. "I will play at it, but I think you need to orchestrate and speak. Galadriel and the King would be grateful for it as well. We all loved Celebrimbor. As did I. He was one of few who could appreciate my artistry as I could his. Let his grave mark the new beginning we have here. Let that be the way to honor him."

Elrond doesn't break the silence for several minutes. He simply allows himself to bask in being alive, in you being alive here with him in this little tent far away from the war and from Sauron. You could build a life here. A home.

That is what he wants to do.

He does not dare speak until you are finished and washing the rag used to clean his arms and face. "I would very much like to do that with your assistance, nin mel. You are the only one I know who could create such beautiful things out of such darkness and travesty."

You playfully roll your eyes and tap the end of his nose with your finger. "You humor me, Commander." You muse. Elrond lets you go long enough to watch as you move his armor to the corner of the room and motion to the tub of hot water the healers had prepared while you were cleaning him. "Now humor me more and get in the bath. You smell foul."

Elrond's laughter is a balm to the ache in your heart. You too will miss Celebrimbor dearly, but you cannot afford the luxury of grief when he is so deeply engrossed in his own.

"Humor me. I have a request, aside from the funeral."

"That sounds more like a demand." You tease. "Go on."

"Remain here with me when the rest of Lindon's elves return home. Build our home here. With me. Build Imladris. Help me honor Celebrimbor."

The shock of his statement sends the objects in your arms clattering to the floor. He wants to do what?

[cristaq]

Started writing something and then I realised it sounds much better as poetry.

What do you think Price saw

When he laid Soap on that table?

Did he try to cover

The sight of blood-stained hands

With visions of a kiss

In a safe house, up on the hills

With shitty rations and flimsy hope

Really, what kind of name is Soap?

What do you think Price felt

When the bleeding didn’t stop?

When his partner choked on blood?

No, no, no, no, no!

Dread, anger and grief

All mixed up with disbelief,

For their love had to meet

A bloody resolution

In the capital of the Velvet Revolution.

Makarov knows Yuri…

One last act of service to the world

His name on a clock tower, as a reward.

He does remember himself for once,

Soap pulls Price closer and mouths:

I love you, old man�� for the last time.

A simple field journal is left behind

And a broken man, with revenge on his mind.

Fear this man, who has nothing to lose

But visions of domestic bliss

And two shiny rings

A house, a dog… kids?

Nah, he hates dogs… he thinks.

He hated dogs... he thinks.

There is no time to weep

Before the unknown soldier’s grave.

He will soon end up here too

Next to his beloved,

Slain by war, slain by man.

In both Heaven and Hell,

I will make sure to find you again.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?” 

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass. 

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.” 

She gives him a look. 

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps. 

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.” 

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands. 

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.” 

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face. 

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.” 

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-” 

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.” 

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?” 

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.” 

*

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go. 

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone. 

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.” 

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks. 

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?” 

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?” 

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him. 

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months. 

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss. 

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat. 

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction. 

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him. 

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access- 

-and that’s when it happens. 

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like. 

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches. 

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin. 

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too. 

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses. 

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom. 

More Steddie Bingo

[isilwhore]

‘We were irked by the idleness and silence of the day, and we went riding towards the Green Hills. Our faces were northward, but suddenly we were aware that all was growing dim. The Light was failing. In dread we turned and rode back in haste, seeing great shadows rise up before us. But even as we drew near to Formenos the darkness came upon us; and in the midst was a blackness like a cloud that enveloped the house of Fëanor.

We heard the sound of great blows struck. Out of the cloud we saw a sudden flame of fire. And then there was one piercing cry. But when we urged on our horses they reared and cast us to the ground, and they fled away wild. We lay upon our faces without strength; for suddenly the cloud came on, and for a while we were blind. But it passed us by and moved away north at great speed. Melkor was there, we do not doubt. But not he alone! Some other power was with him, some huge evil: even as it passed it robbed us of all wit and will.

Darkness and blood! When we could move again we came to the house. There we found the king slain at the door.’

I’ve been thinking about this part in Morgoth’s Ring for the last three days and it makes me terribly sad because this was the moment everything changed; there was no going back.

[ramoth13]

A Message of Hope: Aurë entuluva

For absolutely no particular reason, I felt compelled today,- November 6th of 2024, to write about hope.

There are days when Hope feels foolish; when you have just watched in horror as things that once seemed sturdy and unbreakable, crumble and burn. Whether it is an elvish city or a chosen path, when that happens, Hope feels naive. It feels like that's what lead you here to begin with. It feels like, if you had been more realistic and pessimistic, you wouldn't be so hurt.

For all of the things that Tolkien wrote about, his message of hope was perhaps the most resilient, poignant, and enduring. Few can forget Sam's hopeful message to Frodo:

Yet, today, for many people it may not feel that this is true. I know I often struggle with hope, but today does feel exceptionally difficult (for no particular reason, of course).

Tolkien's most hopeful message, for me, comes from his bleakest story. Húrin's story is one of defeat. Courage sprang alive when high King Fingon and the elves and men fought together against the blackness of Morgoth's reign. The Nirnaeth Arnoediad, or Unnumbered Tears, was a day when victory was close and Turgon, brother of the king, arrived with a mighty host,

"Then When Fingon heard afar the great trumpet of Turgon, the shadow passed and his heart was uplifted, and he shouted aloud: 'Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatarni, utúlie'n aurë! The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!' And all those who heard his great voice echo in the hills answered crying: 'Auta i lómë! The night is passing!' "

They believed that their courage and steadfastness had saved them, that daybreak was soon at hand. Tolkien understood, perhaps better than most, that there was a difference between courage and hope. For courage is what spurs action, brings change, and inspires duty. Courage is what makes the difference when the time has come, just as they continued to fight on against orcish hordes. It was courage that led them into the heart of Angband where the Dark Lord himself sat shaking on his throne. Courage carried them past the gates, but betrayal can cut through courage like a hot-knife through butter. The hill men betrayed the men and elves and the dawning light turned into a simmering dusk.

Darkness had returned.

So, where was the hope?

With the elves slain or fleeing, Húrin, leader of his people fought valiantly to let his people and what was left of his elvish allies escape. Courage did survive the betrayal of the wild men, but only just. And with each swing of his axe he cried out, "Aurë entuluva!" And with each felled enemy, he cried out again, "Aurë entuluva!" Even as his enemies surrounded him, overtook him, and even when taken by the enemy into the dark halls, he cried out for any allies that might hear him, "Aurë entuluva!" It was a promise of hope.

~ "Day will come again!"

Hope is not what makes us act, it is not what leads us to change: hope is what sustains us, what keeps us going when courage has faded and the dark night envelopes us. Húrin held fast to hope when courage and Valor had failed, when the efforts of good people fell short. I do not know what the future holds, bleak as it may seem, but I keep those words near me with every passing hour and in those moments where I feel as though I have been dragged into a dark lord's dungeon, I say those words:

Aurë entuluva!

Day will come again!

-

Courage will be needed when the day arrives, but until then, I will cling to hope.

I wish everyone peace and hope. It is the dearest thing I can wish. And remember, Aurë entuluva!

Namárië,

~ Ramoth13

[suzannahnatters]

we all know about the visual references THE RINGS OF POWER makes to 19th century art (eg these) but just the other day I realised that they ALSO reference classic works of Tolkien art. Eg: The Oath of Feanor by Jenny Dolfen -

- and in THE RINGS OF POWER:

and here's Hill of the Slain by Ted Naismith:

- and in THE RINGS OF POWER:

Which others haven't I spotted? This can't be all...