#lotr writing challenge

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 15 - Aragorn

Aragorn x gn!reader

Prompt: Hiding an injury

Trigger Warnings: Violence/battle, graphic descriptions of an wound, implied character death

Summary: Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

{Less so hiding an injury and more like unaware of injury}

The battle had been long and terrible. There had been more close calls than you could count, and many times where you swore death itself had almost closed its hands around you. You had ridden out in the face of impending doom, and made it to the other side.

But now that the battle had been won, the real work began.

The carnage stretched through the valley, into the walls of Helm's Deep itself. Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you put aside the aches and pains that pervaded you, making yourself useful where ever you could.

You found yourself joining in the effort to round up the wounded, moving them safely within the walls of the fortress, where healers began their work in earnest.

As you made the trek back and forth countless times, you could feel your exhaustion beginning to catch up to you. The ache in your side became more and more persistent, just as it seemed harder and harder to draw air into your lungs.

The next time you turned to go back out into the wreckage, the ache seemed to turn to an ice hot burning.

"Are you alright, laddie?" Gimli asked as you moved past where he seemed to be spectating Aragorn, Gandalf and Theoden's discussion.

You nodded, starting to wave him off, "Tired, is all."

"Come and rest then," Gandalf turned, a knowing smile playing at his lips, "One might say you've earned it."

You tried to smile at the jest, but a new jab of pain stabbed at your side. With a wince, you pressed your hand to your side, only to let out another hiss of pain, as your hand connected with something warm and wet.

"Meleth nin?" Aragorn's focus shifted to you in an instant.

Your eyes met for a brief moment, before they seemed to move in tandem to your newly crimson stained hand. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle of disbelief, despite the pain now radiating through your body.

The room was filled with noises of confusion and concern, but they all seemed dull and far away now. You took half a step toward your lover, but your legs seemed to falter, and the next thing you knew you were stumbling to the ground.

The stone was cold beneath you, and Aragorn was at your side in the space of one sluggish blink. His hand was firm against your wound, applying painful pressure despite your pleading for him to stop.

With his other hand, he cupped your cheek, "Why didn't you say anything, my love?"

You gulped down a whimper of pain, "I didn't- I didn't realize-"

But he wasn't listening, instead turning over his shoulder to bark out an order to someone you couldn't see. Distantly, as if underwater, you could hear Gimli's reply.

Somewhere between one blink and another, Aragorn had grown more frantic, pressing dressings to your wound, muttering something that sounded strange and fuzzy to your ears.

The pain had dulled away now, leaving your body cold, numb, and inexplicably empty. You gripped at Aragorn's arm, trying to anchor yourself, but no matter what you did, you seemed to be slipping further and further away.

The last thing you heard before the darkness consumed you was his final, desperate call of your name.

[boxofbonesfic]

𝐵𝑜𝓍𝑜𝒻𝒷𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈:

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒

divider by @firefly-graphics

Maybe it’s you. 

Maybe you’re the problem, you know? It’s like you don’t feel at home in your clothes, like they grate and itch against your prickling skin. Possibly it’s your skin itself, that it doesn’t fit quite right anymore. Could be there’s someone—or something—in there with you, whispering, watching, yearning. Perhaps you are that slithering darkness waiting deep, deep inside to blossom into something new and terrible. 

And I want you to tell me about it. 

For my spooky season challenge this year, I’d like my participants to write about Transformation. Spiritual, emotional, physical, psychological—go crazy, and hopefully your characters will too. Have they been bitten and infected? Or did they trust the wrong stranger, invite the wrong “friend” into their home? Have they fallen to the curses of the werewolf, or vampire? It doesn’t matter how we get there, but by the end of your story, your character must be utterly transformed—whether that is physically, psychologically, or spiritually, your characters must end in a completely new place from where they began. They must transform. 

As people, or perhaps…as monsters. 

 You can, of course pick your own poison, but if you need assistance, I have  categories below to choose from. But first, the rules. The fundamentals are this: 

This is a HORROR challenge. I will not be accepting any out of genre submissions. No exceptions. If that isn’t your speed, I have other non-spooky challenges coming up, so feel free to join one of those! Any horror sub-genre is acceptable—sci-fi, physiological horror, eco-horror, supernatural, comedy horror, body horror, cosmic horror etc, etc. If you aren’t sure, just shoot me a message. It will be running and active from Friday, October 11th to Midnight, February 1st 2025.

Because of the themes, and my own blog’s content, this challenge is obviously 18+ only. No exceptions. Smut is obviously fine (if not encouraged LOL). I do encourage thorough tagging, but it is not a strict requirement. Darkfics accepted and actively encouraged. 

For this challenge I am accepting both fandom specific and original work. Fandoms I am accepting submissions for the following: Marvel/MCU, LOTR/The Hobbit, Star Wars, Chris Evans Characters, Sebastian Stan Characters, Henry Cavill Characters, Pedro Pascal Characters, Oscar Isaac Characters, Chris, Hemsworth Characters. If it’s not on here, just ask!

You may not submit any previously written work for this challenge—that’s why it’s a challenge. If you’re new to writing horror, I encourage you to check out my Horror Recommendations list for a genre-specific (and growing) list of movies, books and graphic novels! If you’re an old hat at horror, pick a sub-genre you don’t normally explore and see what sparks your fancy! If you are inspired by something, remember to give credit where it’s due!

You may submit a maximum of three entries for this challenge, capped at 10k words per submission. Please put your work under a cut if it is longer than 500 words. You may tag me in every submission, feel free to shoot me a message if I don’t see it. 

Submissions I will not be accepting: DDLG, Toilet Play, Minors in sexual situations, RPF, Bestiality

Have fun! That’s the most important and key part of this challenge. Have lots, and lots of fun. 

And get scared. 

If anyone needs prompts, I am more than happy to come up with a few personalized ones. ❤️

Horror Genre/Sub-genre example list below the cut. It is by no means exhaustive, but it should give you a general idea of what story beats to aim for if you’re unfamiliar. Happy writing, friends!

Supernatural Horror

-Horror that includes ghosts, demons, werewolves, vampires, and all other creatures of myth or folklore. 

Psychological Horror

-Horror with a heavy focus on the mental, emotional and psychological states of the subjects, often uses mystery elements and unreliable narrators. 

Sci-Fi Horror

-Horror that generally involves impossible or unethical experimentation, alien abduction or invasion, and the horrific applications of science to the natural order. 

Slasher Horror

-Horror that is characterized by a killer who violently dispatches a cast of varied characters, whittling them down to a surviving character—usually deemed the Final Girl—goes head to head with the killer and either walks away or not at all. 

Body Horror

-Horror that involves the disfigurement or corruption of the physical body, whether due to science, supernatural causes, or disease. Often crosses into psychological horror territory.

Monster Horror

-Usually a cross between either supernatural or sci-fi horror, monster horror denotes the presence of some kind of non-human creature that generally antagonizes the main cast through violent or supernatural means. 

Cosmic Horror

-Lovecraftian inspired work that emphasizes the horror of cosmic dread, the dichotomy of genius and madness, as well as concepts of forbidden knowledge and the dangers of discovery. 

Folk-Horror

-Folk-Horror often uses rural settings and themes of superstition, cults/folk-religion and sacrifice. They usually juxtapose the modern and the traditional, pitting the in-group against naive outsiders.

Fantasy-Horror

-A sub-genre that contains key elements of both larger genres: fantastical elements and settings with the darker, often more violent and disturbing themes of horror. 

Comedy-Horror

-Horror with a comedic twist. Often the best comedy horror successfully combines the funny punchlines with real, meaningful scares. 

[maeofthenoldor]

𝚃𝚘𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 2024 Prompt List:

For every aspect of Tolkien works, such as Lotr, Silmarillion, The Hobbit.... ect.

Favourite Character

Favourite Dynamic/Duo

Romance/Canon-Non-canon

Friendship

Redesign book cover

Gold/Riches/Mithril

Cultures/Customs

Journey/Guidance/Elven-star

Favourite setting

Magic

Elves/Dwarves/Men

Genderswap/Outfit redesign

Herald/Music/Hymns

Celebration

Sauron/Shapeshifting

OC

Animal/Critter/Monster/Wargs

Character redesign

Favourite villain

Scene redraw

Horror/Dark

Alternate Universe/Modern Au

Anuir

Palantir

The Void/Abyss/Flame imperishable

Second breakfast/Early mornings/Shire

Found family/Parent-child/Siblings

Sword, Morgul Blade/Gurthang

Ancestor/Legacy

Middle-earth/Beleriand

Free day

[cilil]

Tengwar

AN: A little gift for @maglor-my-beloved🤍

✍ Prompt: Yanta (bridge) - Elrond x River Spirit ✍ Synopsis: Elrond seeks out a kindred spirit. ✍ Warnings: / ✍ Drabble ✍ SWG archive

Night has fallen and the moon shines over Imladris, but Lord Elrond sleeps not. 

As if bound by the invisible spell of soundless song, he walks down to the river. There is light in his eyes, like the star of Eärendil. 

Elrond stands on the bridge and looks down at the rushing water below, searching for something other eyes can't see. 

There is a presence hidden within, one that answers only him. An ancient, beautiful face, wide dark eyes and silvery skin, a voice singing in a strange language. 

Smiling, Elrond listens to them, and something in his fëa understands. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @uruk-thighs @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @numenhore

[celeluwhenfics]

Drabble challenge! Théodred as the character and “perfect” as the word. (Not putting my thumb on the scales at all! Though I do, indeed, believe him to be perfect, I will not be upset in the least if you apply the word to someone else or in a different context as part of your drabble! 🙂)

Thank you for the ask, and Rohan themed! Perfect... Théodred... It was almost too easy. I tried to give a little (sweet) twist! 🍦

'Wait, there's more coming!' The early summer sun played amongst the ivy leaves falling like curtains over the colonnade. Spots of light and shade danced across the table, making the crystal glasses and silver dishes sparkle under the crumbs and ruins of a copious meal. 'More?' Théodred stretched with a groan. 'It is all delicious, but I have had so much already, I am quite sure that Silverswift will refuse to carry me!' Boromir's gaze lazed over his arms, his neck, his chest, and flashed hopefully at the hem of his tunic for a glimpse of his bare skin. 'You cannot make me believe that you are full already. A strong rider like you needs his sustenance, and you had a long journey to get here!' Théodred puffed, rubbing his stomach. 'Well, it shall be a quite a culinary deed to convince me to eat any more than this.' 'Have some faith in the cooks of Minas Tirith!' A servant placed two chiseled coupes in front of them and slid away. Théodred marvelled at the alternating layers of fruit and smooth, cloud-like dollops. 'I must say, it does look nice...' He raised an expectant spoon. 'Peaches from the orchards of South Ithilien, raspberries from Lossarnach, cream of almond, aquafaba meringue, nectar of the maple, and just a hint of rose from the garden! But of course, if you are not hungry anymore, there is no need to--' 'And how do you call this?' slurred Théodred through a mouthful. 'A parfait,' smiled Boromir. 'It means perfect.' Their eyes laughed into each other's. 'Just like you.'

[emmanuellececchi]

For the Comfort fic Roulette challenge

I decided to challenge myself. I am always terrified to ask prompts and not being able to deliver. Time to push myself.

if possible, add suggestion for the ship or person you would like to see this written.

I will wait a week and see what you've chosen!

[strawwritesfic]

Frodo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Girl

Summary: Frodo doesn’t really mean it about turning Merry and Pippins into toads, but there are times he wonders if that wouldn’t make things a little easier on everyone else.

Rating/Tags: All (Movie canon; during canon; Fellowship of the Ring; A Long-Expected Party; Pippin & Merry; Pippin & Merry & Frodo; Frodo & Gandalf; Sam/Rosie; quarreling; love confession; birthday party; the Shire)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Girl

Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday party had been the talk of the whole Shire for almost the entire year that led up to it. Every hobbit in the town of Hobbiton—and many more from the outlying regions—was invited to the massive celebration. To the young Frodo Baggins wandering through the crowd, it seemed that each and every one of them had come. Plus some, he judged, as a line of his uncle’s well-wishers nearly crushed him in their eagerness to get to the buffet. He had seen nearly everyone he cared to, including Merry and Pippin and Rosie and Sam...save for the one person he had hoped to see most.

The weight in Frodo’s stomach grew heavier and heavier the longer his search for you went on. Could it be that you hadn’t come? Of all the hobbits to skip his coming of age party—and to add to that, he knew that it was his fault if you had! If only he had not said what he’d said just that very week. Then maybe, maybe—

“Frodo!”

He looked up to see Merry and Pippin waving at him from beside the band playing for the wide field of dancers between Frodo and his friends. Both grinned widely upon catching his eye. Unable to entirely hide his disappointment, Frodo morosely picked his careful way through the throng of party-goers to the pair. Neither of them stopped smiling.

“Why the long face, Frodo?” Merry asked.

“Are you still looking for [Name]?” added Pippin.

Frodo looked over his shoulder at the constantly-shifting dancers, half-expecting to see you there with some other neighborhood tween. He did not. Pippin’s grin widened as Frodo turned back to him and Merry.

“Never fear,” Pippin gave Frodo a hearty clap on the back, “for we have found your maiden fair.”

Frodo tried to protest this, but Merry overrode him: “A little bird told us precisely where you can find her.”

“Who was the little bird?” asked Frodo. 

Merry shrugged carelessly and reached for a passing tray of ales. “Gandalf,” he answered, passing Pippin a drink of his own while the latter nodded sagely.

“You know, I rather think Gandalf suspects us of something, Merry.”

“I believe you are correct, Pippin. And that he believes sending us on this errand to help Frodo will keep us from any mischief.”

“A pity for Gandalf. Everyone has to be wrong from time to time, I suppose, even great wizards such as he.”

Both sniggered into their mugs. Frodo waited for them to get to the point. They didn’t. At last, unable to wait any longer, he said:

“Well? Where is she?”

Merry gave a slight start, as though he had forgotten that Frodo was even there. He pointed off towards the edge of the main tent.

“Her mother has her helping with the catering, or so [Name] claims.”

“So you’ve spoken to her?”

Pippin shook his head. “Threw a plate right at my nose when we tried. You’ll probably have better luck.”

“I doubt it,” Frodo murmured. 

After gulping down the last of his ale, Merry made a shooing motion with his free hand. “Well, run along and find out, why don’t you? And if you see Gandalf along the way, tell him we passed along his message and were perfectly well-behaved for the duration of our conversation.”

Frodo knew that he ought to have been more concerned with his companions’ plans. If Gandalf desired to keep them occupied, it was probably for the best. A lot of planning had gone into this party. Merry and Pippin were more likely to ruin it with their particular brand of trouble than any of the other guests—and that included the horrible Sackville-Bagginses. On the other hand, Gandalf must have wanted Frodo to talk to you, if he’d gone out of his way to give him your whereabouts.

It hardly mattered. Before Frodo could breech the topic of whatever trouble the two were up to that evening, they had disappeared into the crowd. Oh, well. He hadn’t really wanted to tell them off anyway. His heart just wasn’t in it.

Relieved of this duty—though not without feeling some slight trepidation over what Merry and Pippin might have planned—he made his way in the direction indicated. This led him straight to a smaller tent set off from the rest of the festivities. Frodo joined the fast-moving line to the entrance and eventually came close enough to peek inside. A veritable hive of busy hobbits in uniform bustled endlessly before him.

None of them seemed to notice him slipping into the warm darkness after them. Everyone was far too busy with their assigned task. Here the party’s considerable amount of food was prepared, and none of the workers had time to rest. A constant stream of them carrying plates both empty and full moved in and out from the tent’s entrance flap. Heat from exertion and so many cooking fires pressed against Frodo’s skin until he was quite as pink in the face as those doing the baking. Of course, he found you at the very back, scowling over a steaming tub of water filled with dirty serving platters.

He was not surprised you were hiding among the cooks. Your mother was considered one of the top chefs in Hobbiton, and Bilbo had hired only the best for his eleventy-first birthday party. What did surprise Frodo was your expression. Rarely had he seen you appear so dour, and you hadn’t even spotted him yet.

“Pardon me, Mister Frodo,” said a man at Frodo’s back, “but if you wouldn’t mind scooting out of the way, I’d be much obliged. We’re rather in a hurry.”

Frodo hastily crossed the aisle in which he’d been lingering. The man’s additional, “and a very happy birthday to you, sir,” was lost on him, for at that very moment your eyes flashed upward to catch him in the act of spying. You dropped the platter in your hands, but being pinned in by the hobbits washing plates on either side of you, you could make no escape. One of the washers left, only for Frodo to step into the empty space.

You crossed your arms across your chest, and shot him a look eerily reminiscent of your mother. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my party,” Frodo answered, “as well as Bilbo’s.”

Apparently this was the wrong answer, because you threw him a dirty look and bent to snatch your dropped plate from the sudsy water. “Then go enjoy your party,” you snarled, attacking a stuck on bit of potato with more vigor than Frodo thought necessary. 

He inched closer, the better to stay out of the way of those continually coming to deposit dinnerware in need of washing. “I can’t,” he said. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

Your mother had explicitly freed you from catering duty for the party. She had done it as a favor to Frodo, an early birthday present, she had said. Why, then, did you seem so insistent on doing what wasn’t your job for the evening? Without bothering to look at him, you dropped your tray back into the tub, then reached over the resulting splash for a new plate.

“I’m sure Merry and Pippin would be more than happy to talk with you,” you said coldly.

“I don’t think I want involved with whatever they’re up to.”

“Bilbo, then.”

“He’s busy playing host.”

“Gandalf.”

“How would he keep an eye on Merry and Pippin?”

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration, and lost your grip on the plate. “Why not Sam?”

Frodo shuffled his feet. You were nearing the subject of your fight, whether you realized or not. “He and Rosie are dancing.”

Nose wrinkled, you rummaged through the water in search of your platter. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Frodo. Those are all the boys I know, and your only friends. After all, you told me yourself we can’t be friends, because I’m a girl.”

His wide blue eyes closed in shame. Frodo had said that. He hadn’t meant it. The whole thing had been badly bungled, and now he didn’t know how to un-bungle it, or if you’d even give him the chance to try. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, [Name].”

You did not answer this time. Having retrieved your wet things, you made a silent, angry beeline for a rack of clean towels to dry them with. He followed as quickly as he could, given how many hobbits were inside such an enclosed area. He wished he wasn’t having this fight so publicly—not that anyone really had the time to eavesdrop.

“[Name], I didn’t,” he insisted as he caught up to you. “You’re a girl.”

“Oh, very astute observation,” you said semi-hysterically. Now the pitch of your voice was drawing attention. “What would I do without you? I already figured out I was a girl because, in case you haven’t noticed, we're no longer friends!”

Frodo took a deep breath. Like mother like daughter—though he supposed you were still a tween, with your own coming of age several months away still. Either way, he was terrified of your rage, but this might be the last chance he got to explain himself. Bracing himself, he lightly looped one hand around your wrist. You fell into an enraged silence at once.

“You’re a girl and my friend,” he said, before you had the opportunity to recollect yourself. “When I said I didn’t have any friends that were girls…well, I meant that you’re something more.”

“What?” you said after a moment of struggle. 

Encouraged by your not making to run off again, Frodo slipped his hand from your wrist to your palm. “I didn’t mean that we weren’t friends. I was trying to ask you to dance with me. I just didn’t phrase it right.”

A strange noise like a cross between a giggle and a squeak escaped you. You still had not forced him to release you. “You wanted to dance? With me?”

The odd tone of your voice gave Frodo some doubts. You were not normally the kind of person to repeat others either. He offered you a hesitant nod.

“I didn’t mean to make you think you mean less to me than Sam and the rest. You don’t. You mean more. But,” he added when you remained as stiff as a statue in front of him, “if you want to just stay friends, I understand. So long as we’re still friends.”

Seconds went by as you continued to gape at him. His heart sank, and he let go of your hand at last. Yes, he understood you wanting to remain friends, but that didn’t mean he wasn't disappointed by this turn of events. Bilbo’s occasional asides about broken hearts made sense now. Frodo mashed his lips together for a long moment before he gathered his wits about him to take his leave.

“You’re busy," he said awkwardly as he backed away. "Bilbo will be looking for me. We’ll talk some other—”

“Of course I’ll dance with you!”

Frodo had barely got two steps toward the crowded tent exit when you practically tackled him in a hug. Twisting in your grip, he looked around to see your scowl had transformed into an enormous smile.

“You will?” he said. Bewildered as he was, his heart felt ten pounds lighter even as you shuffled off him to allow him room to stand.

“Yes! I—I like you as more than a friend, too. I’d love to dance with you. If,” you looked suddenly shy, “if you still want to after I was so mean.”

“You weren’t mean. I said the wrong thing. I got nervous.”

You smiled again, a little less brightly this time. “So…still more than friends?”

“More than friends,” he said. “But can you leave? Will your mother let you?”

“Are you kidding? She’ll serve me next if she catches me hiding from you in here.”

Just like that, you both were hand in hand again. Frodo squeezed yours firmly in his own. “Let’s go. I think I can get the band to play—”

KABOOM!

Everyone in the tent yelped and froze. Plates trembled. Frightened hobbits dropped their plates. You threw Frodo a knowing look.

“Pippin and Merry?” you asked.

“Pippin and Merry,” Frodo said wearily. “Let’s go see what sort of trouble they got in this time.”

“Then we dance?”

“Then we dance.”

The two of you ducked out of the food tent and headed for where Gandalf and a cluster of half-drunk hobbits—all grumbling over the fright they had received—were gathered. 

It was hard for Frodo to be too upset with Merry and Pippin after they’d help him get together with you. Gandalf had, too, however, so it could be that they were about to get what they deserved. It all depended on how much time this business took, and if Frodo at last got to have his long-awaited birthday dance.

On second thought, he hoped Gandalf turned them both into toads. It would be faster, Frodo thought, and after all, Gandalf could always turn them back...after you and Frodo had your dance.

[horrible-bingos]

Welcome to Horrible Bingos' Summer/Winter 2024 This or That Mini Challenge!

The purpose of this mini challenge is to offer some dark seasonal prompts to any creatives out there!

This prompt card will be running between the moment of its publication and until September 20th, with a new card coming up for the Fall/Spring season by then!

You can pick one column and stick to it, the one that fits your own season or not; you can also do both columns if you have the chance (please, don't overwork yourself!), or cherry pick prompts according to what you like. You can do Summer's column all the way down and then switch and do "Folk Horror" instead of "Survival" for all you want! You can also interpret the prompts in any way you want, even stray away from Horror or Speculative fiction, except of course for the final two prompts, which are much more straightforward.

All fandoms and original works are welcome, same with pairings, alternate universes, and other content. All I will ask of you is to tag and warn accordingly: you may keep general au/tone/trope tags as vague as you wish, but please add warnings either before the text or in tags, even if it's only in the name of courtesy.

All that matters is that you can find something to get you creating, whether that's a written work, a little sketch, or even a mood board or playlist! Do an essay if you want!

There are no official minimums or maximums, but I can give some recommendations: min. 100 words for writing; min. a clean pencil sketch for art; min. 3 songs for a playlist; min. 3 images for a mood board; min. 1 picture for edits. Also, prompts can be combined freely. If you wish to use all of Winter's prompts in a single short story, go on ahead!

Tag the blog in any of your creations if you want me to reblog your post!

Challenge card made with Canva. Background picture source: photography by Sasha Matic at Unsplash.

[smexy-balrogs]

Galadriel has never known peace. Most definitely not whilst she traveled to the ends of Middle-Earth through ice and fire and rain and wind, seeking revenge on a counterfeit power. Not in Lindon, where she woke up every morning to the faint smell of the sea and spent her days with her dear Elrond underneath the ever-orange leaves. Not even in the Far West, where her brothers spun her around in the fresh mountain air and the light of the Trees shone on her skin and her hair.

Sometimes, she blames it on her wretched uncle and his leering stares. Fëanor was greedy and volatile and prideful. Worst of all, Galadriel saw herself in him. His hands were much like hers, slender and calloused from ages spent in Aulë’s forge, but his touch was sinister, stroking her hair as if she were another of his crafts to reshape into something more beautiful.

Other times, Galadriel blames it on her kin. For all their light, the Ñoldor were made too curious, too eager. She still remembers the first kinslaying—her first taste of death—and the all-consuming hatred that after and forevermore filled her.

Galadriel, last of the Golden House of Finarfin.

No, she has never known peace.

But perhaps, she thinks, this is as close to peace as she has ever gotten. Standing next to the devil himself. The waves crash on the shore below them and send seaspray onto her face. She licks her lips, feeling his eyes track the movement.

Galadriel has always been a creature of war. The other children in the Undying Lands, she knew, detested her under the thin veil of admiration they displayed. As a child, she could not ascertain whether they felt fear or abhorrence, although she still often dreamt of vengeance. Yet for all her daydreams, when Fëanor gave to her the opportunity to take it on a silver platter, vengeance had felt vile. She has never forgotten the sight of the white swan-sails dotted with the crimson blood of her mother’s kin at Alqualondë. Though she has not laid down her sword, not once, to keep fighting for the fate of Middle-Earth, there are still those who believe her to be an abomination: those who sided with Fëanor when he spread her legs and claimed her hair wrought the ruin of all children of the One.

“There will never be another like us,” the man who is not a man smiles sidelong at her, “my queen.”

This path they are hurtling down is treacherous, but Galadriel has never known anything else.

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

I love that I'm now back in a writing mood but what that means is that I can only get through about 10 pages of Fellowship before I need to write again

[madwomansapologist]

Hiiii 💛💛💛 here's an idea, Mary's Song by taylor swift (an underrated masterpiece!) + your favorite member of the Fellowship of the ring (LOTR) 💖💖💖

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: Mary's Song (Oh My My My)

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Aragorn | #taylor swift writing challenge | AO3

synopsis: Elrond wanted you to remain in Rivendell, but you needed to represent the Vale Elves in the Fellowship of the Ring. And you needed to make sure Aragorn was okay.

warnings: DO IT FOR FRODO. Boromir lives

note: just the best song from debut. let's be honest, it was wrote about Aragorn and Arwen. thank you for your request, you're a big inspiration for me :)

Boromir tried to light the fire, but Pippin and Merry insisted for him to teach them more about combat. Boromir complained and continued to work on the fire, but you could see his smile at the constant requests. In your opinion, the only being capable of being truly irritated with the two hobbits is Gandalf.

Frodo sat beside you at the beginning of the cave and imitated you, observing the trail. You both could see Aragorn's back, who was taking advantage of the moonlight in search of fresh meat. "How did you both meet?" Frodo asked, now glaring at you.

"It's a long story." You always found intriguing how his eyes seen to contain sparks.

Frodo opened his mouth, but you already knew what he would say. "We have time for that."

"We do, mister Frodo." You looked for Aragorn, just to make sure he was safe and sound, and turned your body towards the hobbit. Gimli was out there with him, they will be fine. "I was seven. He was nine."

Elrond welcomed him into the Valley with open arms. Men were few among the Elves, but Aragorn was never a strange presence. He was just a kid who needed a home. And there is no shortage of houses in the Valley.

You remember the house in the backyard tree. Sometimes you want to get back. Not only to that house, but to that time. You remember how you both would scream at one another, enraged by the pranks that the other made. Aragorn always said he'd beat you up, and he was bigger than you. He never did. Never.

It was easier. Life was easier. You remember the stars shining, how the sky was somehow bigger than it's now. That moment when the world was a valley wide. When Sauron, power rings and a war were just bedtime tales.

You told Frodo about how you dared him to kiss you and you were ten. Ashamed, you ran when Aragorn tried. That night you slept well.

Just two kids. Aragorn and you.

Suddenly you wasn't just a little girl and Aragorn weren't a little boy anymore. When you're sixteen, something changed. Elrond jokes with other elves stopped being just jokes.

It was about the time you both started fighting. Slamming of doors instead of hugging goodnight. You remember all the times you both fight and you ran to your room, just to find out on the next morning that he stayed outside waiting for you.

"A few years had gone and come around", you told Frodo. "We were sitting at our favorite spot in Rivendell. Right in front of the river. And Aragorn looked at me, got down on one knee."

"And what did you say?" Pippin asked. Now everyone was paying attention. "Don't stop at the best part!"

"I've said I do." You proudly stated, showing the silver ring on your hand. Gandalf smiled to himself, remembering you walking down the aisle.

"It was beautiful", said Legolas. "You were beautiful."

For today, that was the end of your story. But you know that one day it will take longer to tell it. Because one you'll talk about rocking your baby on that very front porch Aragorn asked you to be his.

You'll be eighty-seven, Aragorn will be eighty-nine. You'll still look at him like the stars that shine, telling that story for your child's child. It would be a great song. Yes, it would.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[gondolinweek]

HEAR YE! HEAR YE!

Note: This will be the last early details revealed before we unveil the individual scenarios for our daily prompts.

May 14th Feast of Summer Turgon, Idril, Eärendil

May 15th Ceremony of Silence Aredhel, Maeglin, Rog

May 16th Songs of Sunrise Ecthelion, Salgant

May 17th Dance of Daylight Duilin, Egalmoth, Penlod

May 18th Tales of Triumph Galdor, Glorfindel, Pengolodh

May 19th Parade of Passage Tuor, Voronwë

May 20th Freedom of Summer FREE

While we cannot stop you from using this information to begin creating your works (and, in fact, encourage you to), we would ask that you consider using tumblr's scheduling feature to post your works. Regarding works posted in the AO3 archive, the collection will be moderated throughout the event, and works will be revealed once Gondolin Week begins on May 14th.

[wanderingjedihistorian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aragorn/Arwen Undómiel, Aragorn & Boromir (Tolkien), Arwen Undómiel & Boromir Characters: Arwen Undómiel, Boromir (Tolkien), Aragorn (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Post-War of the Ring (Tolkien), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boromir Lives (Tolkien), supportive aragorn, Supportive Arwen, letting go, Boromir Needs a Hug (Tolkien), Implied future Aragorn/Arwen/Boromir Summary: Just because the war is over doesn't mean everything is easy. Boromir still struggles with guilt and shame. Arwen and Aragorn are there for him.

Belated for my October Challenge Day 19 Prompt: Blush

[i-did-not-mean-to]

April Alphabet Masterlist

So...here are my stories for the April Alphabet.

I've decided to also offer (supplementary or alternative) inspiration for my birthday celebration.

A - Archery - Kíli x OC (for @fandomfaeryreads)

B - Battle - Ori x reader (for @maalezzo)

C - Courtship - Gil-Galad x Glorfindel (for @maglor-my-beloved)

D - Dress-up - Erestor for @eunoiaastralwings

E - Escape - Boromir x OC for @scyllas-revenge

F - Flowers - Haldir x OC for @sorisooyaa

G - Gold - Fíli x OC (for @laurfilijames)

H - Horses - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

I - Inebriated - Nwalin (for @lordoftherazzles)

J - Jewellery - Celebrimbor x Maeglin (for @maglor-my-beloved)

K - Key - Ori x OC (for me)

L - Languages - Faramir x Éowyn (for @scyllas-revenge)

M - Mountains - Angbang

N - Nighttime - Námo & Irmo (in honour to @cílil)

O - Ordinary - Russingon

P - Picnic - Bagginshield (for @myeaglesong)

Q - Quiet - Finwëan Widows (for ME)

R - Royalty - Gondolin OT3 (for @jaz-the-bard)

S - Swords - Eönwë for @cilil

T - Tragedy - Bagginshield (for @maalezzo)

U - Unexpected - Beleg x Mablung (for @lycheesodas)

V - Voices - Maglor/Daeron/Finrod

W - Waterfall - Thranduil x reader (for @scyllas-revenge)

X - XOXO - Ori x OC, Fíli x OC, Teacher AU

Y - Yearning - Boromir x OC (for @lathalea)

Z - ZzZ's - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

This was fun!

[glorestorweek]

Coming Soon

U N D E R C O N S T R U C T I O N