#no silmaril zone

[nelyoslegalteam]

Assigning Each Son Of Feanor A Grand Relic From The Adventure Zone: Balance Because There’s Seven Of Each Of Them And Also I Do Not Want To Be In This Work Meeting Right Now

Maedhros - The Bulwark Staff. The Relic of abjuration, the school of protection magic. Created out of pure, fierce determination to protect one’s family, the Bulwark Staff allows its wielder to cast powerful spells of shielding. Perfect for the consummate older brother whose entire thing is very much about holding the line (see: all of the emotions I have about Himring as a concept), and also the parallels between Maedhros and Lucretia are so much. They’re both such Bright Clear Line people, taking it all on themselves to see the mission out and stand in the way of the existential horror threatening everyone, and the worst things they do are driven by such a genuine desire to do what they feel they must for the people they care about the most. (For those familiar with both, does it surprise anyone that I love Lucretia so much also?)

Maglor - The Temporal Chalice. The Relic of divination, allowing its wielder control over the flow of time, it sways and corrupts with a promise: You will have the power to undo your greatest mistake. Heavily associated with decisions and regrets, it would be quite wonderfully reflective of Maglor, whose awareness of how wrong his actions are, clear regret of them, and yet simultaneous inability not to continue down the path decided for him is what makes him most compelling.

Celegorm - The Gaia Sash. Okay this one is low-hanging fruit, but it fits so extremely well. The Relic of conjuration, the Gaia Sash gives one the ability to create, control, and communicate with nature. Celegorm deserves godlike plant-bending abilities. As a treat. Let him have this. I also definitely have feelings about Merle being this wonderfully irreverent cleric, specially chosen by the God Of Nature across every universe, and Celegorm’s whole deal as a chosen/paladin of Orome.

Caranthir - The Phoenix Fire Gauntlet. Powers-wise, the Relic of evocation is the most straightforward of the seven, and I feel like that fits Caranthir very well. Lup is associated with fire on a literal level, yes, but also because she’s warm, she’s the connection point for the whole group, and I can see this on Caranthir too, being the one to befriend the dwarves and the humans and to establish this empire of connections everywhere, and Lup’s bright, fierce protective rage is such a good interpretive filter for Caranthir’s fiery temper. Also, the imagery of the Gauntlet burning everything around it down into a perfect circle of black glass just fucks severely on him.

Curufin - The Oculus. Curufin needs to be associated with the Relic whose ability involves summoning illusions so powerful that its wielder can make them reality, because he is a smith and a creator and this aspect is very fitting for him. Curufin also needs to be associated with the Relic of illusion for thematic being a pale imitation of Feanor reasons. Curufin also needs to be associated with Davenport, the character who loses his entire sense of self with the mission because his entire sense of self IS the mission, even if these things happen in extremely different ways.

Amrod - The Animus Bell. The Relic of necromancy, capable of tearing a soul from its body. Thematically perfect and wonderfully dark for the character called the Fated, and as I am a crispy Amrod truther at heart, the associations with violent, abrupt, unfair, being quite literally torn away by death, are in fact very necessary.

Amras - The Philosopher’s Stone. The Relic of transmutation, capable of turning anything into anything else. It’s nothing if not a metaphor for the way that Taako masks, tries to mold himself in wherever will fit him while remaining deeply convinced of the extremity of his isolation, having lost his twin and having become lesser for it. I am a crispy Amrod truther, and extremely obsessed with Amras also as a character who feels like half a person after losing his twin, and transmutation is so wonderfully reflective of the undefined nature of his place in the narrative.

[first-son-of-finwe]

Two sleeping pills and I actually managed to knock out 😯 a miracle. Hopefully it’s smooth sailing now

Though I did have a dream that I was being chased by a hammerhead shark

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Oialëa - Caranthir x human!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: Driven to acquire a Silmaril as a token of love, Carnistir's lover had disappeared without a trace, or so he thought.

Tags: Angst, fluff. Happy ending because Cara deserves the world and more

Author's note: Oialëa (Quenya), meaning eternal or forever. Beren and Lúthien are shaking. This doesn't align chronologically with the events of The Silmarillion, I just wrote away lol

-

Forever. 

That was what they had promised each other. 

He remembered that day so vividly. 

The second he had locked eyes with her, he had known. Every doubt he had harbored in his heart about Men had vanished as quickly as that beautiful smile had appeared on her face upon seeing him. 

Carnistir had always been aware of his family’s disapproval when he had decided to court her. He could even understand it to some degree. After all, she was a mortal woman. 

He had always been aware of the hurt that would eventually find its way into his life, slowly eating away at his heart to constantly remind him of the painful truth that she would pass on and leave him. That he would fade when that moment came, wishing nothing more than to just perish so that his broken heart would stop bleeding for her. Hoping that he could meet her on the other side, even though all odds were against it. Not even Mandos himself knew where the souls of Men vanished after they passed. Never would he have thought that moment would come so soon. 

It had been a rather cold morning when Fëanor had called his sons to join him in the conference hall. It was rare for them to be together in one place like this, since everyone would always tend to their own affairs in their own realms. However, they had decided to stay in Thargelion for a few days after a hunting trip before returning to their homes. This morning, after a chaotic breakfast that had been filled with laughter and bickering, Carnistir found himself zoning out at the round table. 

Today marked one year. One year since her sudden disappearance. 

Nobody seemed to know. To care. Maybe they just didn’t want to. 

Why would they? It had never affected them in the first place. They had never cared about her. 

He watched absentmindedly as Celegorm and Curufin engaged in a lively discussion with their father, feeling himself becoming angrier with every second. How could they just sit there and talk about finances and trade when they all knew he was fading? 

Not one of his brothers had touched on the subject of Carnistir’s state. Only Makalaurë had sought him out to comfort him, although it had been rather unsuccessful. When it would usually be Maedhros who would reach out to him whenever something was troubling him, the copper haired ellon seemed too engrossed in his own mind. Ever since his return from Angband, his brother had become nothing but a shell of who he once was, which scared Carnistir to his very core, because deep down, it was dawning on him that he too would end up like this, if not worse. Maedhros possessed a fierce spirit and an almost unmatched determination, Carnistir was sure of that. And it was because of his fierce spirit that he believed Maedhros would come back a stronger warrior than ever. He did not know how long it would take his brother to find himself again, but it had rather be soon. 

Right now, Makalaurë seemed to be the only one keeping a watchful eye on him. Carnistir could feel his gaze as Celegorm continued to poke fun at the local merchants and their ways of trading. Slowly turning his head away, he looked out of the window to somewhat control the anger that was boiling up inside of him. 

He hadn’t felt a great deal of emotion since that day. His chest was heavy. It was hard for him to breathe. The pain had become unbearable over this past year. It was like he could feel his heart being torn apart more and more with each passing second. 

While on the outside, he appeared as the quiet, dark and scary prince of the House of Fëanor, his family knew how emotional he actually was. It was the same with his horrible temper. 

However, since that day, he had ceased to feel anything. 

He remembered how he had lashed out at everyone for driving her away from him. How he had attacked his father and how it had taken all six of his brothers to restrain him. With that, his eyes found themselves focusing on Fëanor. The head of the house. The ellon he had once admired like no one else. 

Now, all he could feel was betrayal. Broken trust. Indifference. 

Was it not a father’s role to be a guiding light for his son? To help him grow and give advice when needed? How was it that every one of his brothers seemed to have such a strong bond with him except for Carnistir? 

Ever since he had announced his engagement to her, Fëanor’s behavior towards him had changed. It had always been a fact that Fëanor had no positive opinions on the race of Men. Only the Ñoldor seemed to have his respect, or at least parts of it. It had been no surprise that he would openly disapprove of their courtship and even hatefully comment on it, calling her all sorts of atrocious slurs that Carnistir would not dare repeat out of fear that his anger would take over and make him do unspeakable things. 

He had been lucky to live in Thargelion with her, hidden away from his father’s disapproval. In order to protect her, his precious flower, he had deliberately distanced himself from his family, only allowing his mother and some of his brothers to come visit them in their home. He did not regret his decision. In fact, the distance had opened his eyes in a way he would have never expected. He had found himself discovering the world from her perspective and finding love in all the places he would have never cared to look before. 

Before her, his life had been grey, full of routine and work. He remembered feeling like something was missing. Like he was searching for something unattainable. Longing for the unknown.

The moment she had walked into his life, he had felt like a garden about to bloom, full of sensation. The colors around him had suddenly become so very vibrant, he had noticed people’s smiles and had found himself feeling content whenever he had gazed upon the blue sky. He had become impatient to learn more, to feel more, almost like when he had been an elfling growing up in Tirion. 

She had taught him how to look at life in a beautiful, romantic way. Through the eyes of a mortal being. To cherish the time he was given in this world, even though that concept was rather unfamiliar to him because of his immortal existence. Time had never been relevant in his life. He had always been efficient and quick when it came to his work. Never once had he struggled with having too little or too much time on his hands. In fact, his endless lifespan had always seemed to serve as a great excuse to throw himself into work and trade deals. Until he had met her, that is. He had learned how quickly the days were flying by. Seeing her plan ahead whatever it was that she was doing in order for her to be able to indulge in other projects and travels before her time would eventually run out had always left him curious. Only when he had started courting her had he found the true meaning behind her planning and eagerness to explore and learn about his culture. Only when she had looked up at him with tears in her beautiful e/c eyes had he realized how precious time was. When she had told him about her fear of death. Her fear of the unknown. Her fear of being swallowed by nothingness and never being able to feel again. 

He remembered it like it was yesterday. Her small hands clutching onto his significantly larger ones, chest rising and falling irregularly because of the countless sobs that were wrecking her body, and her usually clear, cheerful voice being nothing but a shaky whisper when she had told him how terrified she was of the thought of leaving this world and most importantly, leaving him behind to fade. 

And Carnistir had known he would never be the same after her. He still found himself utterly, unapologetically, painfully in love with her. 

It was because of the way she made him feel, the way she had turned his life around and changed it for the better, the way his heart would swell with love and pride whenever he thought of her, that he had chosen to abandon his family’s principles and gaze upon Men with a different mindset. It was because of his immediate, undeniable connection to her spirit that he had decided she was his One.

His fëa felt incomplete without her by his side. It was like a part of him had been stolen away. The part that he had been searching for so long before he had met her.

The souls of Men and Elves belonged in different realms. That was what he had been taught his entire life. While he knew that he would be brought into the Halls of Mandos to be judged and returned to Valinor, his fate did not grant him any satisfaction without her by his side.

And yet, their spirits were connected, deeper than he could have ever imagined. Never before could he have fathomed that Men and Elves were able to form a spiritual bond as powerful as theirs. It was only when he had experienced it himself that he had realized how powerful the union of two souls could be, no matter which background they possessed. There would be no other, no matter how many centuries would pass. He was hers and she was his. Forever. 

His brothers’ laughter brought him back to reality. It was no longer Celegorm who was making fun of the merchants and their customs, but the Ambarussar mimicking his storytelling. Carnistir didn’t understand how they could always be this energetic. How they could all sit together and act like a big, happy family, skillfully ignoring all the atrocities they had committed because of those Silmarils — eventually driving his love away from him. As the sun rose higher, his eyes began to wander, no longer feeling the desire to watch his brothers’ buffoonery. Instead, he stared outside the large rounded window, right through Celegorm. 

The air seemed moist. He could still see remains of morning dew on the grass and leaves around and could only imagine how fresh it must smell. How he wished he could just vanish. Leave this place to go to wherever she had gone. It could be the deepest depths of the abyss and he would still follow her without looking back once. The Oath be damned. 

He still remembered that fateful day, when he had found out about her disappearance. About the reason behind it. Everyone had given her a horrible time. She had been tormented and harrassed from the moment their courtship was made public. Carnistir remembered how much he had admired her stubborn and confident nature, how she had laughed in everyone’s faces when they had told her she would ruin him and his reputation. She had always been very sure of herself. Perhaps her entire existence as a mortal woman had required her to grow a thick skin in order to survive in Beleriand. It had always been her competitiveness and need to prove herself that had him worried. It was because of those late nights spent in front of his fireplace when she would pour her heart out to him — tell him how badly she wanted to show everyone she was indeed worthy of his love, how badly she wanted them to just shut up and stop pestering her — that he cursed himself for allowing her to get close to him. Carnistir had known that she had meant his father and Curufin, most of all. He had thought her temper, which could get almost as bad as his at times, would help her withstand his father’s disapproval. But in the end, it had gone to her head and when that point had been reached, instead of telling him, they had let her leave. Only after beating Curufin to a pulp had Carnistir found out about it. About how after a disasterous run-in with his father, Y/N had declared to fulfill Fëanor’s impossible quest — to acquire a Silmaril to prove herself once and for all.

Carnistir closed his eyes at the thought. He knew the Oath would catch up to him, but never could he have fathomed that it would take a turn like this. He had searched for her in every place and corner, crossed hills and valleys, questioned every single creature of Arda. He would have faced Eru Illúvatar himself to find her. 

But after months of unsuccessful searching, his hope began to fade and he had realized that he would soon follow. Life had felt numb and surreal after that. It was as if he was just waiting for Mandos to greet him, for Nienna had drained him of every single one of his tears. There was no beauty in grief, Carnistir had decided. He would rather be engulfed in complete darkness than stay in this realm any longer. It would make no difference. He would never reunite with her again, ever. And yet, instead of being granted the sweet release of death, he was bound to this realm, this oath. 

He watched the wind blow through the high grass on the fields outside, growing more and more tired by the minute. How long would it take for his heart to finally stop beating, he wondered. He thought back to his fiercer days. When he had drive and determination. In a way, he felt like he was letting her down by not holding on. After all, this was her greatest fear coming true. 

As he sat there, drowning in hushed up misery, his eyes fell upon a small black dot on the horizon. It seemed to move closer. Carnistir welcomed any distraction at this point. He found himself completely focussing on the dot, trying to make out its shape as it got closer. 

It seemed to be a deer, by the way it was moving towards him. But the longer he looked, the more suspicious he got. This could’t be a deer — the silhouette was too sturdy. He was surprised to make out what seemed to be a rider on a horse on these dewy fields across from him. What was a rider doing so close to his estate? 

"Brother." 

Makalaurë’s voice rang in his ears. Turning his head to the side, Carnistir was met with concerned blue eyes. "Whatever is it you are staring at?" 

Carnistir silently gestured in direction of the field, where the rider’s silhouette was becoming clearer for everyone to see. And right when everyone turned their heads to see what he was pointing at — that was when he felt it. 

A long forgotten sensation, so familiar.

No. It couldn’t be. 

The screeching of his chair being pushed back was hardly as loud as his heartbeat. He felt it pulsing in his ears, heavier and more alive than ever. 

It could not be.

He could feel it flowing through his veins, sending burning energy through his entire body like he hadn’t felt in ages. The rider. 

The round table was dead silent. He felt his brothers’ eyes on him, even his father seemed confused. But Carnistir couldn’t care less. His feet seemed to move on their own and soon, he found himself stumbling outside, his steps growing quicker and quicker until he came to a halt on the edge of the fields, tensely staring at the horse, which was beginning to slow down. 

The rider was hooded, clothed in a ragged black cloak that seemed too big for them. 

Carnistir’s breaths became shallow as they rose their arms to lift the hood off their head. He felt dizzy. Heat rose to his cheeks, the drumming in his ears became unbearable. His fëa would not lie to him, would it? But it could not be, she-

E/c eyes. Staring right into his. 

His breath hitched in his throat. H/c locks spilled out of the hood, onto her shoulders. Her face — thinner and rougher than he remembered, and her mouth agape. 

He ran. He ran, faster than he had ever run before. And when she slid off the horse, steadying herself by its side, weak and meager, he knew it was his fëa keeping her from passing out right then and there. He stretched out his arm, desperately trying to get closer to her, as his feet carried him across the field. 

They collided with a force greater than lightning itself. His hands were blindly grasping at her, frantically trying to get a hold of her as if his life depended on it, because it did. Her fingers dug into his shirt, clutching onto him, and his ears were met with whimpers, quiet and weak. 

"Cara-" 

The cry he let out was raw, almost animalistic. He felt his face twist itself into a terrible expression, full of despair, as he buried his nose in her messy hair and inhaled her scent. The scent that had become more and more faint over time, until it had almost completely vanished from his chambers. 

Not even the clothes she had left in their closet had held onto it. And now it was all around him.

They sank to their knees, her small form falling into his chest, her hands coming up to caress his neck and jaw, chapped lips placing uncoordinated kisses on his burning skin. It was at that exact moment that he felt their souls melting together in a much too long awaited embrace. 

Her nose brushed up against his cheek as her kisses travelled higher until he shakily took her face into his large hands and kissed her fervently. The fire in his soul had been ignited once again, and he could feel her fingers twisting and pulling his hair, her body pressing itself as close to his as possible, teeth clashing in the process. Carnistir was trying his hardest to navigate through this suddenly unfamiliar display of affection, the desire and agony of a long lost lover that had just come back to him. This was the strongest he had felt since the day of her disappearance. When they broke apart, gasping for air, faces wet with tears and eyes glistening and gleaming with passion, unable to grasp that they were indeed reunited again, that this was no longer a dream, he finally mustered up the courage to say out loud the name that had been haunting him day and night.

"Y/N." 

It was soft, hoarse, overwhelmed. He almost didn't recognise himself, for he was known for his rich and determined voice, a voice that never wavered. And yet, when the sound fell on her ears, her face lit up so beautifully Carnistir feared he would perish right then and there. Her smile, though small and weak, was enough to have him see stars. Their foreheads came to rest against each other as their heartbeats slowed down gradually, getting used to each other's presence again. 

How he loved her. 

How his soul burned for her. 

How he would never again be separated from her. 

Just as he thought the shock was wearing down, his guard shot right back up when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. 

He took his time, gently winding his arms around her frail form and steadying her against himself before rising to his feet to face his brothers and father, all of whom seemed to be in complete and utter disbelief. A new fire was raging inside of him, no longer warm and welcoming, as he stared straight into Fëanor’s eyes. The message was clear and every one of his brothers took a hesitant step back, not wanting to trigger Carnistir. He had always been highly protective of her, this they knew. The entire kingdom knew. No one would dare lay a finger on his One, if they valued their life. But right now, even the tiniest sound could send him into complete madness. 

Nobody said a word. The silence laid heavy on Carnistir’s shoulders. But right before he could make any remark, voice dripping with deadly venom, sworn to obliterate anyone that came too close to his lover even in the slightest, he felt her straightening her posture and taking a step forward, holding onto his upper arm for support. 

Her e/c eyes were cold and calculating, almost hollow as they locked in a stare with his father. He held his breath when she reached inside her cloak and revealed a piece of cloth, wrapped around something. Her hand shakily placed the lump inside Carnistir’s and she proceeded to pull at the cloth, unveiling the object hidden underneath. 

The light was blinding. 

His brothers erupted in gasps and shocked whispers along the lines of "Impossible!" and "It cannot be!"

There in his hand, it laid. 

A Silmaril, cold and hard. 

Carnistir could not believe his eyes. Y/N’s stare was fierce, unrelenting. She said not one word, and yet, he felt the power radiating from inside of her — menacing — aimed right at his father. 

He could not imagine the things she had seen and endured, to get her hands on this Silmaril. How she had managed to locate and bring it to Thargelion all by herself was almost frightening to him. 

Her stance faltered a bit, and he could feel her exhaustion washing over him as a result of their reconnected fëa. She would not be able to stand here any longer. Their stand-off had to be postponed until morn, at least. Her health was of utmost importance, his father be damned.

Taking a deep breath, Carnistir placed the Silmaril on the ground before carefully picking her up, bringing her head to rest against his chest. Not today. Not after she achieved the impossible, all by herself.

His brothers’ deafening silence — Fëanor’s deafening silence — was triumphant enough. They knew. 

They had left her to go and die and she had returned. 

His stride was headed towards the healing quarters, away from his brothers, away from his father. He could not care less about their disapproval. Thinking of themselves as superior to everyone and everything and finally getting what they deserved. A taste of their own medicine.

The determination of a mortal woman. 

It was when he laid in bed with her that same night, her head resting on his chest, arms wrapped around his torso so tightly he believed he would have had trouble breathing if he weren’t immortal, Carnistir felt at peace. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady rythm and for the first time in what felt like a neverending eternity, his bed felt warm again. She would have the whole kingdom in a frenzy by tomorrow. The word had probably spread already. He could not imagine the humiliation his father must have felt in that moment, let alone the fact that he'd have to spend the rest of his life knowing that a mortal woman managed to fulfill the quest he himself failed. Pride crept into his heart at that — his father, humbled by none other than the human he had sworn to never accept as his son's One. Carnistir knew Y/N's temper made her do things she regretted rather often, which had been another reason for their undeniable connection. They were similar in that sense. But he also knew that even though she had acquired a Silmaril and thus proven for everyone to see, that she was indeed worthy of him, he had to talk sense into her the next morning. What she did had been impulsive and reckless, so very inconsiderate and dangerous and yet, his chest swelled with love. He was angry with her, so very angry that she would leave him without a word, travel into the deepest depths of the abyss to retrieve this jewel, just to prove a point. How very mortal of her. A small smile appeared on his face at that thought. And there, in the comfort of his lover’s embrace, in the sound of her soft breaths, in the serenity of this quiet night, a lone tear rolled down his cheek.

How he loved her.

The souls of Men and Elves belonged in different realms. That was what he had been taught his entire life. And yet, her soul had found its way back to him. Carnistir was certain, he would never be separated from her again. Ever. She was his One. There would be no other, no matter how many centuries would pass. He was hers and she was his. 

Forever. 

[magicalrainicorn]

It's very important to let the House of Fëanor know, NOT to look for the Silmarils at your place!!!

I misread someone’s “I don’t own the Silmarillion” disclaimer as “I don’t own the Silmarils” and legit my only thought was a heartfelt “good” as though the Silmarils are a real thing and all of us are in constant danger of being murdered by the Sons of Fëanor if we don’t tell everyone on the internet we don’t own them

[meadowlarkx]

I really think the years of Maglor's reign as High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth (& Maedhros' captivity) are so key to his character. Maglor whose defining feature, in the end, is staying with and yielding to Maedhros, even when it's patently not a good idea anymore.

During Maedhros' captivity, the crown falls to Maglor, who has until now been safely living in the middle sibling zone far from ultimate responsibility. He's a famous minstrel, but he's never had to lead or expected it. And suddenly, for these thirty years, Maglor's left ostensibly in charge of managing things. Fëanor is dead and Maedhros is gone. The Fëanorians betrayed and abandoned Fingolfin's host and have no hope of seeing them again. Yesterday they learned about violent death and committed atrocities, and today they lost their brightest and most charismatic leaders who also happen to be Maglor's father and beloved elder brother. Now they're stranded in a new land in the dark. It must have seemed near hopeless. I think it's really interesting how 1.) Maglor is never explicitly named as king (iirc) in the Silmarillion, and 2.) There's no word (in Silm) about any moves the Fëanorian camp make during these 30 years. They're holding on, probably a difficult task in itself, but they aren't accomplishing much more than that. I imagine Maglor spends this whole period teetering on the border of despairing altogether.

What we do get of this time is that Morgoth makes them an offer—if the Fëanorians give up their Oath/leave Beleriand, he'll give them Maedhros—which the brothers, under Maglor's leadership, don't take (since Morgoth lies and the Oath is too important to renege on.) It's right after they refuse in the text that Morgoth hangs Maedhros on Thangorodrim.

Then Fingon rescues Maedhros, proving that it could be done. If Maglor hadn't already hated himself for rejecting Morgoth's offer of an exchange, for not saving Maedhros, and for failing to do more than just hold the camp together in the meantime, he's got to now. It's this sense of overwhelming, loving debt and guilt towards Maedhros, I think, and fear of feeling lost (& fully responsible) without him again, that dominate Maglor's actions from then on. He places his trust in Maedhros' leadership, relieved Maedhros can make the final decisions now. How can he really trust himself when he was wrong before? And he places his hopes in redeeming himself to Maedhros. Maglor, without any apparent opposition whatsoever (I would say gratefully), hands the crown back to Maedhros—and promptly on Maedhros' bidding (again without any noted opposition—I would say eagerly) goes to the most dangerous region of Beleriand to be the first line of defense against an invasion. (And then he "fails" Maedhros again by losing the Gap in the Bragollach.)

When Maglor is right in their conversation about stealing the Silmarils, of course it's hard for him to stick to it. He's used to trusting Maedhros more than himself. He owes Maedhros his loyalty for those horrible years of inaction. And probably most of all, he doesn't want to be alone, without Maedhros again, adrift and hopeless.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 2- Fighting for a Dragon’s Wish

So this one has a special dedication section. It was exactly 1 year ago today that @dimdiamond​ made this post, and this Cursed AU came to be. It is almost insane how well this has all come together, but I guess Dim doesn’t call me “madman” for nothing.🤣

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: The Arkenstone was no more and it’s wish granting dragon, gone with it. The traumatic events left Bilbo wanting to hang up his fighting lifestyle until thirteen rude aliens barge their way onto his planet demanding the stone. Bilbo finds himself traversing the galaxy in search of the Silmarils which may have the power to restore the Arkenstone, and along the way learn that he actually has more in common with the Ereborians than he realizes.

It had taken a long time for Bilbo to be considered a respectable hobbit. Given his particular history, many would have seen it as impossible. However, Bilbo rather enjoyed the quiet bustle the village he moved to had to offer. He all but preened in the golden sunlight that aided his small garden, and most important of all: his staff remained a walking stick only when he felt like venturing on a small jaunt through the woods surrounding his hilly home. For the first time in his life, he was completely at peace. His friends, however, had a different opinion.

“Forgive me for asking,” The tall Dale native grimaced. “You just seem so…”

“Bored.” Gandalf finished for Bard glaring down the end of his pipe at Bilbo.

The hobbit calmly sipped from his cup of tea before he deigned to answer his pseudo-father figure. Bilbo was fifteen years old when he lost his entire family in one brutal attack. Gandalf had been the one to take him in, and while he was forever grateful to the old man, he rather resented the implication that Bilbo relied on the way of the life he had been provided. 

“Rest assured, I’m quite content. The people of Hobbiton have been very welcoming, and I don’t find myself wanting for much here.” 

Both of his companions furrowed their brows skeptically, and thinking on his feet, Bilbo realized a subject change was in order.

“And Bard, how is your family? Are they…adjusting?”

Just as he hoped, the man’s expression smoothed over into pure joy. 

“Aye, they are glad to be back. And I’m more than happy to have them back. Thanks to you, Bilbo.”

“Oh, posh.” The hobbit waved off. “I was but a small part of that story. You are the real hero here, Bard.”

Rather than encouraging a turn in the conversation, Bard and Gandalf went back to frowning at him. Bilbo felt his nose twitch as his eyes fell, rather rudely, to the dark, liquid reflection of himself from his teacup. 

Bard cleared his throat. “This is a lovely home, though, Bilbo.”

The hobbit smiled as he seized the flag of truce gladly.

“Thank you, I built it myself.”

“Did you really?” Bard asked in amazement, really taking in the architecture of the smial.

Bilbo nodded indulgently, resisting the urge to rub at the callouses on his knuckles. Gandalf’s eyes seemed to zone in on the movement though. Thirty-five years, and he still failed to hide anything from the cunning old windbag.

“Bilbo, my dear boy, if this has to do with what happened with Sma…”

“No!” Bilbo cut him off, immediately jumping to his feet, teacup falling to clatter on the dirt floor.

Bard and Gandalf tensed, but didn’t react beyond that. Bilbo really must be losing his touch then. He could feel his hands tighten into fists as he fought to fiddle with the golden ring on his right middle finger.

“I garden.” He stated, his voice wobbling slightly. “In the afternoons, I fish, then I come home to read or draw maps or ANYTHING I FEEL LIKE DOING! This is what I want. I’m…fine. I’m more than fine, I’m here and not out there. And it’s…fine. It’s all fine.”

“Bilbo,” Bard addressed softly after a beat. “What happened in Laketown…it wasn’t your fault.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as his chest began to heave. This was supposed to be a nice visit. He was in this nice new home, in a nice village. Why did Gandalf and Bard want to ruin it? Why didn’t they want Bilbo to have nice things? When he looked back up at the taller pair, his eyes were steel, and he could see them visibly flinch.

“Listen to me.” He demanded, feeling the power in his words and hoping it was only in his words. “Short of a sky-falling, world-ending, cataclysmic event, I will never be who I used to be again. So you might as well drop it! Either accept me for who I am now, or…I can show you the door.”

To emphasize his point, Bilbo opened the door to his smial before crossing his arms smugly. Of course, that was the point where everything went wrong. The sky darkened drastically, the ground began to quake, and a horrid noise filled the air. Bilbo bowed his head in resignation even as Bard and Gandalf jumped to their feet sprinting out into the yard. However, before Gandalf passed him, he shoved Bilbo’s worn pole into his chest. Bilbo stared down at his faithful companion morosely. This…this is why he couldn’t have nice things. Quick as a flash, Bilbo Baggins was out the door, ready to face whatever new threat beckoned him.

***

Maybe it was just Bilbo, but an alien invasion was probably about the last thing he expected to have to deal with when he woke up that morning. However, staring up at the truly massive ship as it slowly lowered itself to the grassy hillside was rather hard to pretend not to notice. Not that Gandalf or Bard would let him turn back now, both in ready positions. Bilbo merely leaned against his staff, waiting. After a lot of unnecessary fanfare, the hatch finally opened revealing its thirteen passengers. Other than the sheer volume of armor and facial hair on them, Bilbo found himself rather disappointed with how normal they looked. Even if they were flying. Well that was different. Considering it was rather hard to miss the three idiots who were the only ones not screaming and running away, the alien visitors flew straight for them.

Bard gripped his bow a little tighter, and even Gandalf tensed at their approach. Bilbo remained calmly leaning against his wooden pole. 

“We are the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor.” The oldest looking one addressed, landing with a bow. “We come seeking a treasure unique to your planet. Please present it to us, and we will leave you in peace.”

The tall, bald warrior scoffed. “Why are we assuming these three would know anything? They don’t look like much.”

The dark haired one in the center smirked back at him. “Aye. Especially the short one. He looks more like a grocer than a fighter.”

“Course I can’t seem to find a power level worthy of our time anywhere.” The red headed one gruffed

His hand was pushing a button on the side of the eyepiece they all seemed to be wearing. Bilbo assumed it was some sort of radar, but to read fighting power? Baffling. Of course, that didn’t bode well for them if it was outputting that all of Arda was weaker than the thirteen of them. Bilbo felt his muscles twitching at the idea of making them prove it, but he remained in control of himself. He was retired after all. 

“A treasure you say?” Gandalf finally asked.

The dark haired one from earlier landed before him. From the way he held himself as a very important alien, Bilbo was willing to bet this was their so-called King. 

“A jewel that shines with ten thousand sparks of white radiance, shot with glints of the rainbow, the Arkenstone. We heard humors that it might be found on this misera…planet.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as Gandalf and Bard shifted uncomfortably. 

“You can’t have it.” He finally declared.

All the Ereborians suddenly ceased with their chatter as their eyes immediately fell to Bilbo. The dark-haired one especially seemed to be trying to set Bilbo aflame with his glare alone. Quick as a flash, he was suddenly before Bilbo, holding him a foot above the ground by his cravat. Bilbo’s first instinct was to knee the asshole, but he restrained himself, dropping his staff in order to grip the Ereborian’s hand for leverage.

“And who’s going to stop me, Ardan? You?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Bilbo grunted. “And I prefer the term hobbit or Shireling if you must know.”

Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously with a snort from his former captor.

“Thought as much. Now give us what we want.”

“Or?” Bilbo hinted.

“Or we blow up your little dirtball.” The Ereborian smirked over his shoulder.

Bilbo caught uncomfortable shifting from the others, especially the white haired one, out of the corner of his eye. Well, if worse came to worse, he may not have to fight all thirteen.

“I think what our dear Bilbo meant to say…is it’s not here.” Gandalf intercepted.

This bit of news froze the Ereborian in his tracks. 

“Not here?” He repeated.

“It has been, quite by accident, I’m sure…”

Well that was a complete lie.

“Destroyed maliciously.”

Bilbo had to plant his feet to keep from being blown over by the power physically rolling off the Ereborian in waves. All of his confidence melted in an instant. What were they? There was something else underneath Bilbo’s newfound fear as the power washed over him. It was…comforting? No, more like…familiar. Familiar like a dream. 

“I do hope you’re joking.” The Ereborian snarled, his full attention on Gandalf.

“Unfortunately, I’m not. But before you get too carried away, there may be another. And I happen to know just where to go to get the information you need.”

As if it had never been there to begin with, the power vanished, but it did not return the dark haired Ereborian’s previous good humor. 

“By all means, lead the way. However, if this is all some elaborate last ditch bid to trick us and save your planet, I will not hesitate to kill every single one of you. Starting with him.” He promised nodding in Bilbo’s direction.

Gandalf shared a look with Bilbo, and while he seemed amused by the Ereborian’s lack of faith in Bilbo’s abilities, the hobbit could see he was nervous. Bilbo gripped his staff a little tighter. He really had been enjoying his retirement. It was a shame that didn’t last long. And he had only these self-entitled aliens to blame.

“I’m afraid it will not be accessible at this time. The Tower of Imladris is a well hidden fortress after all. However, in a show of good faith, we would see you comfortably fed and sated for the night.”

The Ereborian’s frown deepened as his arms crossed. Clearly trying to weigh the advantages of Gandalf’s suggestion.

“We can afford to wait a day, lad. For this, we can wait.” The white haired one stated, placing a hand on the dark-haired one’s shoulder.

“Fine.” The Ereborian sighed. “We will do as you suggest, but he stays with us.”

“What?!” Bilbo demanded, glaring at the alien’s finger pointed in his face.

Bard seemed as if he were about to protest, but Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Very good!” Gandalf agreed. “I was going to suggest Bilbo’s home as your reprieve considering it is large enough and not far from here.”

The nerve of him.

“Gandalf…” Bilbo began only for the older man to cut him off.

“Just for the night, my boy. And who knows? It might be quite the merry gathering.”

Bilbo turned slightly as he listened to some of the Ereborians whooping and describing their hunger in great detail. It sounded like Bilbo was about to lose three of his five pantries to this lot.

“Find your courage. You’re meant for more than books and maps, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly as Gandalf patted his arm. The old warrior spared one last glance to give Bilbo a wink before he whisked himself away. Bilbo counted to ten before turning to face his alien guests with a large fake smile.

“Who would like some tea?”

[imakemywings]

For @domaystic day 16!

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Elwing (+ family)

Summary: Elwing watched for the return of Earendil’s ship.

AO3 | Pillowfort

___________________________________________________

Elwing had a crook in her neck. She often did, these days. There was a window in the sitting room from which she could see the harbor, and so frequently was her gaze turned towards it—even without thought, anymore!—that the muscles in her neck had begun to protest being so awkwardly craned or snapped abruptly when she thought she saw something from the corner of her eye. It was become a reflex that now occurred whether she thought she saw something or not.

            The Silmaril was heavy against her breast and every night she prayed it would keep the Havens safe, and help its people prosper, and bring Eärendil back to her. The feeling of being exposed at the seaside had never left her, and she knew her fellow Wood-elves shared the sentiment. Not, she often reflected at such times as she felt herself yearning for the comforting rustle of leaves overhead, that the trees had done much to keep them safe in the end. The remnants of the Gondolindrim, Eärendil had explained, felt exposed in a different sort of way, far from their walls and their encircling mountains.

            And so every day she watched for the return of Eärendil’s ship.

            At night, she dreamed of Doriath. She saw things she’d seen and didn’t remember, things she remembered and hadn’t seen, things she’d heard or felt or imagined so long they had become real.

She saw her father stand and call the sons of Fëanor to account; she saw the flash of his blade; she saw him cut down. She heard the pounding of her mother’s feet down the hall as she ran for the twins. She felt her own shivering as she was lifted onto the horse, the Nauglamir burning in her pocket, and the arms around her, urging her mount at an ever-faster pace out of the forest, the branches seeming almost to clear a path as she charged out of the realm of her great-grandfather.

She saw her mother’s throat slit and her brothers dragged out of Menegroth, thrashing and wailing. Elured and Elurin, shivering and crying alone in the woods while the Doriathrim tore the forest apart looking for them, and for the other children who would not be found alive. The corpses across the forest floor like autumn leaf-fall and the reek of blood in the air like mist. The ransacking of Menegroth and the slaughter by those looking for her and what she clutched in her fist. The burning eyes of Maedhros the Red which seared through her mind into her very fae whenever she met them, and it was always after these dreams she woke most discomfited.

            She would flee from her bed and pace about the kitchen and rub the Silmaril with frantic fingers and try to displace her memories of the Kinslaying at Doriath with gentler recollections of encountering the Gondolindrim and settling the Havens with them, of meeting Eärendil, of the kindness of Idril and Tuor. There was comfort, she found, in another like her—he who was neither Man nor Elf, and yet both. And Eärendil would have had more in common still with Elwing’s father, being more evenly split between the two than she. She was sorry they would never chance to meet in this life.

            She liked to think they would have gotten along (but, said a voice in her mind, Eärendil got along with most everyone!)

            Still, these thoughts could not calm the rabbit racing of her heart, and so she would retreat to the bedroom of her children. Elrond and Elros, her twin treasures; the sight of them made her heart ache. When she looked at them she thought of her own mother and father; looking now on these helpless little things which she had created, which depended on her for everything, she pictured herself in the stead of her mother, lifting one of them onto a horse to send on a desperate flight through a war zone. She thought of watching them torn from her too-weak arms, slung into the hall like sacks of grain to be taken out and abandoned to the cold. Her parents, she thought, must have died in suffocating terror, knowing their fates had sealed those of their children.

She would sit on the floor at the foot of Elrond and Elros’ bed and lay her head against the mattress and watch them sleep, listening to the rustle of their sheets as they stirred now and again, and only then the fretting of her heart quieted enough for her to task herself with something simple until morning (there was no returning to sleep on these nights, too many nights, Elbereth she was so weary at times).

            And so every day she watched for the return of Eärendil’s ship.

            There was plenty to do to keep her hands and mind occupied. The Havens were busy and there had been much building to do in the early days. The settlement was still rudimentary as far as Elves were concerned, and they had great care for beautifying it up to their usual standards. The images of Gondolin and Doriath burned in their faer, and while none yet had gone so far as to say this would match with either of those, it was in the nature of Elves to care for the aesthetic of their living space. Truthfully, she was often grateful to have something to occupy herself with beyond the running of her household—though two young boys did give her quite a bit!

No one argued about with her about the need for minor fortifications, but neither was anyone willing to suggest such ill winds as they needed more than minor ones. The memory of Gondolin’s betrayal and the sacking of the city—the memory of the brutality of the kinslaying—meant Gondolindrim and Doriathrim alike were willing to put in the work to create a few defenses for the city, though everyone hoped they would serve no greater function than making the denizens feel slightly more secure.

The work was never done and as glad as Elwing was for a purpose, exhaustion seemed to bleed into her bones, and she longed at times for the days of her youth when she could allow the adults to fuss over such things and occupy herself with more spiritual matters, such as the collecting of a great many seashells. The adults had been kind; they had not taken her back; whatever they had done with the dead and the remnants of Menegroth, they had done it out of her sight. Elwing had been a child, and this protection was the one of the few left that those around her could offer, and she was grateful for it.

(They whispered of it, when they had been drinking, and there was a shadow in their eyes, on their hearts, a horror and a grief that never abated, and Elwing was not sure what was worse—the half-supported imagination of a child, or the knife-sharp memory of an adult.)

A child should not have to see such things, she thought as she watched Elrond and Elros chase each other through the shallows on the beach. A child should not have to flee their home in the dead of night, pursued by blade and fire and watch adults give their lives to spare more death. She was willing to see purpose, she supposed, if her and Eärendil’s experiences meant Elrond and Elros should never see what their parents had seen.

And so every day she watched for the return of Eärendil’s ship.

Some nights, the twins were restless too. They crept into her room, lingering about the doorway until they could determine from the sound of her breathing that she was still awake, and then—

“Nana?”

            They would say it together and she would take a breath and then push herself up to look at them. They did not wait for an invitation to clamber onto the bed and make themselves comfortable and ask for a story. Elwing was not good at telling stories. Her mind lingered in too many dark places, and she had not the imagination for it. Eärendil was better at giving them something fun to listen to, and Tuor had been better still (How they had loved to be regaled with grandfather’s stories of his long journey to Gondolin!) Still, she would do her best, and the actual content seemed to matter less than the effort, for inevitably she ended up snuggled down with a child under either arm, and the pair of them sleeping, or at least resting, and if she herself could not sleep, at least she could cradle her babies a while.

            They seemed to grow so quickly. Already they were tall enough to grope around on the counter for anything that might have been left behind, and she had seen Elros lifting Elrond up about the waist for a better look. Perhaps she should have intervened and scolded them, but instead she had only watched and then ducked out of sight, as if she had never seen anything at all. She made sure to keep the knives well out of reach.

            Eärendil was home as much as he could be, but it never felt enough. Moments of joy turned to anguish for her thought that You’re missing it! You’re missing them! She knew their options were limited, and Eärendil did what he could and it grieved him too to be away, but still she wept for those moments she shared with her sons that her husband should have been a part of also.

            And so every day she watched for the return of Eärendil’s ship.

            Some days, her aching neck was lucky. For she would catch sight of a boat on the horizon with her sharp eyes, and need cry only: “Ada—” before both boys were flying past her, out of whatever place they had been hiding and playing then, and racing down the path towards the docks. Elwing would gather her skirt or tighten her cloak around herself and run along with them, and so all of the Havens knew when Eärendil’s ship was due to dock for seeing his family go racing through the town to await his arrival.

            It was always many hours, often much of a day, before he closed the distance between where Elwing had first seen him and where he could hop down onto the dock to be swarmed. The twins would grab at his clothes, babbling over each other for his attention, and he would scoop one up in each arm, and then look to Elwing with that gentle look of I’ve missed you that made her at once forget whatever ungenerous thoughts she might have had during his absence.

            They would always be waylaid by a friend (or several) inviting them for dinner, and the night would pass with drink and song and Elrond and Elros glued to their father until they both passed out and he carried them to bed. The other mariners would share stories of what they had seen, and those who remained ashore would detail what had transpired in their absence. Theirs in the Havens was a simpler sort of life, but far from unrewarding.

            For a while then, Elwing’s neck would be free of kinks and aches, and she looked no more towards the window in the corner, for there was nothing beyond the walls of the house that could have taken her attention off what was inside it.

[spiced-wine-fic]

Tagged by the amazing @thenookienostradamus :) Thank you 🙏🏼

Fic asks.

7. Your favourite ao3 tag. 

Hate-sex, I think. I’m just not one for romance or fluff. Darkfic.

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

I have to say that in 15 years in online fanfic fandom I’ve completely avoided even knowing what tropes are 😂

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

I used to work on two in tandem, but when I became self-employed I just couldn’t do it anymore. Even when I could, it was a mental wrench to step out of one ‘world’ and into the other. Now I have to scrape the time to write. I need spaces of time to get into the ‘zone’, not just minutes.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

If I get down or stuck, I go and read fic that I love. It starts the engines like nothing else I’ve tried.

30. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

I don’t know if they’re that wild really, everything I write is an AU and often gallops off into weird shit.

Possibly Fëanor meeting Melkor in the Dagor Dagorath and the meeting of the Flame Imperishable and the negation that-is-Melkor destroyed the universe.

Or maybe the Mirror of Worlds that Fëanor created in that universe (it was like a Portal into the Multiverse) which was shunted out of the destroyed universe and into future ones. In one of these universes Fëanor breaks it and the shards scatter through the Multiverse. The Mirror shards can appear on any world.

Maybe (in the Stormbringers Trilogy) when Fëanor, after his death is forcibly reborn and corrupted into a monstrosity and chained in Avathar, but eventually slips his chains and into the Great Sea. After a very long time in that monster shape he ends up in a deep, cold loch in Scotland.

In ancient times there was an event similar to the Storegga Slides, which caused immense tsunami to batter the west coast of Scotlandand brought the Silmaril of the Oceans to that loch. Fëanor half-recognising it, claimed it and slept with it in the depths.

In the story, Maglor has two of the Silmarils and there is an immense concatenation of power that brings the ‘Monster’ out of the loch. When Maglor kills it, the blubber breaks apart and Fëanor emerges, cleansed and whole.

Maybe Elgalad (who’s in the Dark Prince and Magnificat of the Damned series as well as the modern AU’s) Who was born an Elf but is probably a thought-form of Eru, maybe — or perhaps became a real person. We just don’t know. 🤷 I’m not sure he knows.

Eru is completely ambiguous, more than a little insane and wants to create another universe — in one AU with the aid of @naryaflame’s    OC, Claire James.

Eru, Vanimöré and Fëanor having a ‘totality’ that exists on the Outside so their physical forms are avatars.

[kendrixtermina]

Something which I think should be appreciated more that Melkor’s schemes didn’t just cause a rift between Feanor and everyone else; There would have been a lot of internal drama in each of the branches, too

We know Anaire dumped Fingolfin for his role in the kinslaying; Of course she might’ve blamed him for being a bad influence on the kids, but they were grown adults, with Turgon having a kid of his own, and we know Turgon and Fingon explicitly got their swoods bloody (and nothing we know about Argon’s and Aredhel’s personalities suggests that they didn’t) so it’s actually quite likely that their mother disowned them - remember a key point of the situation after the darkening is that everyone was acting on impulse & frazzled emotions, doing drastic things they might not have done if they’d had time to think it through. 

I mean, Galadriel flat out turned against the faction that her brothers & cousins were a part of (one could interpret “withstood him fiercely” to mean that she got into an actual swordfight with Feanor himself; And he might be the most powerful elf ever but Galadriel is explicitly number two. Since both lived, it was probably a draw; Maybe she had the sense to withdraw when he started winning; This is before she apprenticed with Melian so she probably hadnt reached her full potential yet) - one can totally justify why she’d take the side of her mother’s people since the Noldor clearly started it, but her brothers & cousins probably had opinions about that. Finrod was probably not present having lagged behind with Finarfin; Galadriel would’ve rushed ahead of them (& hence gotten there in time to witness the kinslaying) specifically because she was eager to leave - and then in Beleriand she gave up the whole battle for unwinnable (she was not incorrect about this...) and camped out in Doriath. (Part of this is probably that she had to be retroactively fit into an established plot structure so she doesnt get much to do apart from a few key moments (still a lot more than, say, Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad, especially if you go with the HC that she & Celeborn were the ones who absconded with Elwing), but it still has implications especially since she’s among the most powerful)

Contrast Finrod who didn’t expect Nargothrond to last & acted accordingly, but felt he had to fight to protect the world from Morgoth; He probably saw it as a good thing that Galadriel would go to set up contacts/ future strategic positions further east, but there was certainly a disagreement between her & her brothers. 

Add to this that she & her brothers were described as having been “as close as brothers” with Fingon & co, with Angrod and Aegnor being tight with Fingon in particular before all went to hell.

Angrod in particular probably had no peace at his dinner table; He wanted to go, but Orodreth and Finarfin didn’t; (At least we’re told that Finarfin’s kids did not criticise him to his face & retained some basic civility) Who knows what faction Eldalote’s family went with. And once he got to Beleriand, he got both Caranthir and Thingol accusing him of being in cahoots with the other faction; Plus the implication that Fingolfin sent him without informing the Feanorians which suggests at least some moderate political calculation on Fingolfin’s part;  No wonder he eventually snapped & spilled everything. 

And if you go with the reading that he was friends with C & C once, they definitely werent friends anymore by that time; though Caranthir clearly never liked em to begin with. 

Likewise, Turgon thought it all to be a very bad idea why all his siblings were like “Go! Adventure!”; Fingolfin himself was somewhere in between in that he didn’t want to go but felt it was his duty to look after the people & take revenge. 

Heck, though his motives were probably among the noblest, Finrod wanted to go while his BFF Turgon didn’t - and then Turgon lost his wife; It’s also implied that Turgon was pretty homesick at least early on seeing as he had Gondolin built to be like Tirion 2.0 while Finrod was initially super stoked to be exploring the unknown lands & meet & learn from the locals. 

Consider alsopoor, poor Finarfin, who probably parted on bad terms with all his siblings, was left without his children, no longer welcome where he ostensibly preferred living, left to mop up the resulting mess all alone, including diplomatic relations. 

We think of him as the one who knew better and noped out, but that would actually be Findis, who wanted nothing to do with the rebellion in the first place and appeared to have been so disgusted with Tirion & its inhabitants that she left & probably renounced the crown; She probably told her siblings that they were all terrible

Finarfin is the one who almost went and turned back last second - which requires a whole lot of self-awareness and humility, to admit that you were wrong; Maybe he’s less upright than his oldest sister but he was more responsible in the end in that someone had to be responsible for the remnants of Tirion and he decided it should be him, even though he was probably not prepared at all cause he was like, 25th in line after his older siblings & all their descendants.   It means that he had to explain to everyone why he’s leaving (including Findis, and his wife whose hometown was just turned into a war zone by his brothers), & then go back and explain to everyone why he stayed after all.

I don’t imagine the parting between Fingolfin and Finarfin to have been too pretty, either, especially since we’re told that Finarfin markedly refused to pick any sides. They would’ve been frustrated with each other at this point, seeing as they both had reasons to do what they did.

 At least Fingolfin’s got Lalwen, Findis is with their mom, Feanor & Finwe were probably soon reunited in Mandos, but Finarfin’s got no one; 

And we can assume that what happened with the royals also played out among the general populace of Tirion as families & friend groups were divided among the various factions. 

Initially the Feanorians would probably have been more unified (they would’ve been a tightly knit group, considering that their father is a standoffish loner who pretty much raised them in the wilderness) - though at the cost of an unreasonable loyalty that eventually proved their undoing, and must have strained what friendships they had with everyone else - though one can imagine that there was some friction between Maedhros as the official leader and Curufin looking to direct things from behind the scenes, with both having somewhat different priorities and principles, but it seems that rather than directly openly challenge/disagree with his older brothers, Curufin tended to try & influence them, or just do whatever he wanted without checking with Maedhros (Cue the Nargothrond debacle...) 

Likewise Maedhros would scold or defuse them & learned eventually not to bring Caranthir to diplomatic meetings, but he didnt efficiently curttail them either; loyalty to ppl you know to be questionable is not unambiguous; I personally got the sense that he was always trying to keep both his vow and his honor and then ended in a rather fatalistic, regretful, pelagian villain sort of place after the sack of Doriath - there he was, running through the forest, looking for both the innocent child casualties and the silmaril, and finding neither. In that sense Curufin was perhaps more pragmatic, but also very factional in his thinking & somewhat amoral. 

[aldanil]

Thanks @mellar1l and @fragolaicecream for the tag. I decided to re do it, and I will try not to delete it this time.

2020 Art highlight

Rules: It's time to love yourself! Choose your favourite works you create in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artist/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. My fic about Atarinkë

Atarinkë is the main character and the narrator of my actual story which is an AU of the Silmarillion. In this verse, Fëanáro didn’t died in Dagor Nuin Giliath, and built his fortress in Himring, where he claims himself the High King of the Ñoldor. There, all his sons followed him. Though, I m now very far from that in the plot, because the Fëanorian are still in Eldamar, and Fëanáro didn’t yet created the Silmarils (but it’s planned for the next intrigue).

I m especially fascinated by all the similitudes Atarinkë shares with Fëanáro, which are for him more a weight than anything else in my verse. I can tell that I have a very particular Headcanon about him.

I m more an immersive daydreamer than a writer, and it’s sometimes hard to find motivation to write as much as I wish to do. Yet, writing, like drawing, has the power to bring imagination to life. This story is very important for me, and my project for 2021 is continuing writing this fic. I m really having so much fun with incarnating Atarinkë !

2. My draw of Fëanáro and baby Atarinkë

Because they both are my favorite characters, and I don’t see enough of draw about them two, so I decided to do it. I m surprisingly happy with the result. This draw is important for me. I m willing to draw more about them.

3. The Fëanorian

Because it had been a long time I wanted to draw how I imagine them in my mind, so I m glad I finally did it and wish to draw many sceneries about them, also about Fëanáro and Nerdanel because they are my favorite couple of Tolkien.

4. Andreth and Aegnor / Maedhros in Himring

Because I got out of my comfort zone and tried lined art and other things like armor and background I usually struggle with for those two. I m happy with the result and think I improved. Now the challenge would be to re do this kind of draw. I m also willing to draw more landscapes in future.

I m not sure about who to tag, because I don’t know who would like to do it or not, so I let the choice, and tag anybody who would like to do it.

[first-son-of-finwe]

Apparently Dean died in the most mundane hunter way possible (I think he got stabbed), Sam grew old (apparently there was a montage), and then everyone was in heaven except Cas (INCLUDING THE FUCKING IMPALA)

oH GOOD

The freaking car gets a better ending than Castiel. Awesome.

tbh I’m just gonna imagine my own ending and make it canon :) :)

[kariachi]

Land Ho!

We’ve built up a bit of an ecosystem in the two seas of Osmos V. We’ve got a load of critters, who do different things, live their lives, and it’s time to move forward. There’s not a lot of sea on Osmos V after all, and a hell of a lot of land to take charge of. And it’s not generally the animals that take center stage on land first, it’s the plants.

Let’s get some not-greenery up in this place.

There’s some major challenges pretty much anything moving onto the land on Osmos V is going to have to deal with.

One, it’s a hot planet, the average temperature for the surface sitting at about 82 degrees fahrenheit after everything that’s about to pass. To compare, Earth’s average temperature is about 59. So desiccation is a real risk, especially since there’s very little surface water once you get away from the seas.

Two, it’s windy. Very windy. Like ‘our strong breeze is their calm day’ windy, with low speeds of ~24 mph. Speeds in the 30s are common, and all the way up into the 50s. It’s a serious matter, and as a result there’s a lot of debris movement and sandstorms are common, practically the norm. This, isn’t going to cause too much trouble as far as taking in sunlight, just because the local plantlife will, by the time they hit land, have adjusted to account for this. Plus, having two suns gives Osmos V a longer day and shorter night than Earth, allowing more time to take in sunlight. The real problems here will be not getting shredded and not getting buried.

So, besides handling things like reproduction, feeding, the normal crap, these guys are going to have to deal with all that shit. On the plus side though, the fucking tides on Osmos V?

Choice.

Having two moons, Osmos V has a complex tidal system that basically boils down to ‘there’s multiple stages of intertidal zone’. This may not sound like much, but since intertidal zones are basically where life goes before it goes onto land, this means that the residents of Osmos V have plenty of opportunity to adjust and adapt and so will have a surprisingly easy time (comparatively) expanding out of the seas. Instead of having to go from ‘always under water’ to ‘under water half the time’ to ‘never under water’, they’re progression will be more like ‘always under water’ to ‘usually under water’ to ‘sometimes under water’ to ‘never under water’.

But we’re going to be skipping those because I’m not completely crazy, and basically hitting them briefly  before we settle completely with land.

So far we’ve hit the seas separately, but this post is going to hit on the plantlife of both seas at the same time. It just makes sense to me.

So, starting with the Red Sea. These plants are pretty standard, a nice violet color to best take advantage of the light given off by the planet’s suns. At first they’re something like a liverwort, low to the ground with broad, flat leaflike bits, which is a good thing! This is a great design for avoiding wind damage, and thick stems will allow for better managing the sort’ve mechanical forces that come from being buried. They wont be new to that, but prior to fully becoming terrestrial they’ll have been able to count on the water and the waves to clean them off, while here they’ll have to rely on the wind. It’s consistently there, at least, but often carrying debris and such that could just cover the plants back up.

So, what do you do? Go grassy! It’s not ideal, but it’s the best option available to them at this point. They gotta not get buried, and that means they gotta grow tall. Heck, being tall will even help them reproduce, moving away from the budding they’ve been doing and into wind pollination (because why not take advantage of that shit). Maybe they can even become sort’ve proto-trees-

Except.

We’ve still got the manacytes to talk about.

The manacytes of the Grey Sea are going to have an easier time coming onto land than anything else on the planet. Remember that these guys are made primarily of magic. Their water needs are vastly diminished, they’re incredibly hardy, they don’t need to take in outside food, literally all the manacytes need is a constant or near constant source of energy. That’s it.

And once you get out of the water, where there’s a stable temperature with lows in the 70s, there’s no lack of energy on Osmos V. There’s sunlight, of course, which they share as a food source with the chlorocytes from the Red Sea, but the manacytes can also just plain eat the otherwise overwhelming heat.

They need a bit of water and surface exposure to heat and/or light and with that they can live, pretty much anywhere and for however long they can manage to keep their energy needs met. The only limiting factor in their growth, once they hit land ahead of the lampicytes, will be all the damn wind and sand.

So, how do you deal with all this wind and sand, when you need that light and heat from being exposed?

Well, they are made of magic.

They could try going the way of the Pyrnectidae, who you may remember are another Grey Sea native being that uses bursts of energy to repel threats, but that would take a lot of energy. These guys are going to be dealing with sand constantly, they’re not going to want to be wasting this energy to knock it off every time they get covered. But there’s more you can do with magic, as we’ve seen with things like Anodites.

To defend themselves against the sand, manacytes are going to build up. Specifically, they’re going to build chimneys of sand and stone and mud to reside in, sticking out the top in a variety of configurations. This would allow them to avoid being buried alive, and due to their diminished water needs already would mean allow them to spread at an amazing pace even by the standards of the planet.

Close to water they would, of course, be larger, and spaced so that they couldn’t feed off each other, while the further away they got the shorter they would become, within reason. This would allow them to create hot, sparse little ‘forests’ through the desert that become denser and taller teh closer to water they get.

Prior to this, they would’ve reproduced by budding, but at this point just dropping pieces of yourself around the place would be more dangerous, so I propose they would evolve to send out runners under the ground, that would then build up until they were large enough to break off from the main body.

None of this would really matter for the chlorocytes back at the Red Sea, but remember what I said before. The manacytes have an easier time adapting to land than anything else on the planet, meaning they probably did it earlier than everything else. They also spread incredibly fast because they don’t really have competition from anything except each other. They’re probably gonna hit the Red Sea about the time the chlorocytes are really settling in.

To quote my mother when I mentioned this, along with the fact that if the chlorocytes get wiped completely out then the air breathers are gonna go with them- “Yeah, they’re screwed”.

Are they though? So far we’ve been assuming the manacytes would reproduce via budding, which would allow them to take over the groundcover niche quickly an efficiently presuming a line branched off to grow low to the ground in the forests, where they would have better protection from the sand. Possibly they could have barely a chimney. There’d be less light and heat down there, but there’d be enough for tiny manacytes, about the size of the palm of a hand at most.

So the manacytes take over the groundcover, and they take over the ‘tree’ role (meaning this planet is fucking glowing like a goddamn silmaril), but they’re building their chimneys out of local dirt and stone and with that they’ll be taking up seeds...

The chlorocytes are going to become, almost a kind of bromeliad. Tucked in close to the chimneys of the trees, with flat leaves angled to catch whatever sunlight gets through to them alongside the light given off by the manacytes themselves. The leaves will also be covered in fuzz, to catch and hold onto any moisture they can eke out of the air, which’ll be easier in the forests than in the desert proper, and so that’s where they’ll likely stay. Probably also they’ll stay by the Red Sea for a good while, until the wind or a critter starts carrying their seeds to all the other forests of the planet.

So, what have we got so far? We’ve got a planet that’s about a third covered in plantlife, of a sort. We’ve got waterside forests made of stone (both plain and gem) chimneys from which extend glowing white masses. Groundcover of patches of little glowing white masses of the magic and matter combination. And flat little violet plants in the forest, nestled along the chimneys of the trees. And outside the forests, spanning the deserts, we have sparse ‘scrub’ of the same chimneys and white plants.

We’ll call these, in order- kaminodendri, ‘chimney tree’, camppyr, ‘field of fire‘, flurmur, ‘wall flower’, and kaminobrach, ‘short chimney’.

Of course now, what these guys need is some animal life to bring some mobility to this whole planet thing. With the first question being- how the fuck are the Red Sea critters gonna adjust to this?

[kathrynra-blog]

Der Hobbit

Warner Bros. Studio Tour - Winter in Hogwarts

Dies äußert sich in Erdbeben, Verwerfungen und erhöhter vulkanischer Aktivität. In Neuseeland liegen einige der aktivsten Vulkane der Erde. Diese befinden sich ausschließlich in der nördlichen Hälfte des Landes, ein Großteil von ihnen ist in der Taupo Volcanic Zone (TVZ) konzentriert, die sich im Zentrum der Nordinsel befindet. Die gesamte Landfläche Neuseelands beträgt 269.652 km² und ist damit etwas kleiner als die Italiens oder der Philippinen, aber etwas größer als die des Vereinigten Königreichs. 2008 lebten 5,3 Millionen Milchkühe in Neuseeland, 90 % der Milchprodukte werden exportiert, damit ist Neuseeland seit Langem der weltweit größte Exporteur von Milchprodukten. Die Rindfleischproduktion Neuseelands ist ebenso weltweit führend, etwa vier Millionen Fleischrinder leben aktuell auf den Inseln. damit ihre Souveränität auf und bekamen dafür Bürgerrechte zugesichert. Sie durften die Ländereien behalten, die vor Unterzeichnung des Vertrages in ihrem Besitz waren. Im Jahr 1975 wurde schließlich das Waitangi Tribunal eingesetzt, das bei Unstimmigkeiten und Vertragsverletzungen Regelungen trifft und sich auch für Wiedergutmachungen einsetzt. Read more about campervan hire New Zealand here.

Wo leben die Elben?

Lidloses Auge, auch Rotes Auge genannt, war das Auge Saurons. In dieser Form soll er 2941 des Dritten Zeitalters erschienen sein und es war sein Wappenzeichen. Alle Diener Saurons trugen das Rote Auge als Zeichen der Zugehörigkeit zu Sauron. Es wird berichtet, dass selbst die Fliegen in Mordor dieses Zeichen trugen.

Hier ragen vom Talkessel 800 Meter hohe Granitwände in den Himmel und ein monumentaler Gletscher speist zahlreiche tosende Wasserfälle, die sich über die Felsklippen stürzen.

Zwischenzeitlich hatte Neuseeland in der zweiten Hälfte des 19.

Die Elben werden als die „Erstgeborenen Kinder“ Eru Illúvatars bezeichnet, die dieser allein in dem dritten Thema der großen Musik „Ainulindale“ erschuf.

Zwischen der Ãœbergabe des Rings an Frodo und dem erneuten Auftauchen Gandalfs vergehen in der Romanvorlage 17 Jahre.

Der Hobbit und Mittelerde[Bearbeiten

Zudem lockt dieser Ort jährlich zahlreiche Radsportler, Wanderer sowie romantische Touristen, die sich einfach gerne die Sterne anschauen. Natürlich werden auch hier diverse geführte Ausflüge angeboten, die den Hobbit-Fans die wichtigsten Drehorte dieser Region nahe bringen.

Wer schrieb der Herr der Ringe?

Geographische Lage. Auckland befindet sich auf der 380 km langen und bis zu 80 km breiten nördlichen Landzunge der Nordinsel von Neuseeland. Das Stadtgebiet grenzt im Norden an die Region Northland und im Süden an die Region Waikato an.

Einer Verfilmung stand Professor J.R.R Tolkien zu Lebzeiten schon immer sehr kritisch gegenüber, denn dies war eine Sache, die außerhalb seiner Zuständigkeit lag. Als Erster erwarb Walt Disney 1956 die Filmrechte für Tolkiens Meisterwerk, ein übliches Vorgehen des amerikanischen Trickfilmers bei erfolgreichen Kinderbüchern. Als Tolkien zwei Jahre später ein erster Drehbuchentwurf geschickt wurde, war er geschockt. Plötzlich hatten seine Orks Schnäbel und Federn und der Elbenwald Lothlórien verkam zu einer "Schloss Neuschwanstein"-Kopie mit weißen Dächern und Minaretten. Und zu allem Überfluss tauchten die Adler in der Disney-Version alle paar Minuten auf, deren König nun übrigens Radagast hieß. Elwing gelingt es mit dem Nauglamír (Zwergenhalsband), in welches der Silmaril eingelassen, ist zu entfliehen. Morgoth erfährt von Maeglin, dem Sohn von Aredhel und Eol, wo Gondolin liegt und wie man dorthin gelangen kann. Im Jahr 510 fällt die letzte der Elbenfestungen in Beleriand. Tuor, der Sohn Huors und Schwiegersohn von Turgon kann mit seiner Familie durch einen Geheimgang entfliehen.

[sweetteaanddragons]

Adventures in Matchmaking (A “Can’t Time Travel Without ‘em” Story)

There was a time when all Fingolfin had had to say to anyone on his family on the topic of marriage was that he hoped they’d someday find someone who made them as happy as his wife made him. 

He missed those days.

Feanor had been joking about the matchmaking being his problem, probably, but Fingolfin had sat down to think it all through, just to be safe.

Feanor’s branch of the family was fine. The only offspring any of them had managed was Celebrimbor, who was safely born and on his way to adulthood. While he supposed it was possible that one or more of them might give Feanor more grandchildren this time, Fingolfin wasn’t worried about gaining additional family members. He just didn’t want to lose any.

HIs own house was another matter. Idril was safely born, thank goodness, and it was a long time before she would meet Tuor, but he’d have to keep an eye out in the meantime to make sure no one wiped out anyone key in Tuor’s family line.

Which would be a lot easier if he knew more about Tuor’s family line than House of Hador. He’d just . . . have to hope for the best on that one, he supposed, and then throw his full support behind Idril if her father got twitchy about her marrying a human.

Maeglin was the real problem, though.

Given his daughter’s long search for Maeglin in the halls and refusal to leave without him, he was pretty sure that given full knowledge of the choice between Maeglin existing and Maeglin not existing, she’d take the former in an instant. Fingolfin was not opposed to this. Maeglin had done a terrible thing, yes, but there had been at least an element of coercion, and if they started getting rid of family members on that basis, they’d hardly have any family members left.

The problem was Eol.

Aredhel had refused to talk about her marriage for the most part, which was understandable, given how it had ended. She had refused to search Eol out, but she had refused to hear much ill spoken about him either. She just . . . hadn’t spoken of him.

There could be no Maeglin without Eol, but Fingolfin wasn’t about to let his daughter get tangled up in a marriage that would lead to unhappiness.

Alright. So Eol was necessary. His marriage to Aredhel was necessary. Eol being a terrible husband was unacceptable.

Well, they had a few centuries. Surely that was enough time to track down Eol and beat his character into a better state.

Daydreaming about the beating part of that process being rather literal cheered him up considerably. It was a plan, at least. He’d do his best with it. 

That just left Finarfin’s branch of the family.

Finduilas was already on the way, so that was one worry down. Galadrial hadn’t met Celeborn yet, but Celebrian wasn’t due for another Age; there was a large safety zone there.

No, the problem on Finarfin’s family tree was Elrond and Elros. 

He’d already thought through getting Earendil born; the problem was going to be getting Elwing. By all accounts, Beren and Luthien had barely survived their first go around, but he could at least hope their Doom was strong enough to withstand a minor thing like time travel.

The main concern there . . . assuming Beren’s ancestors survived long enough to produce him and that Beren survived long enough to meet Luthien . . . was whatever quest Thingol would assign Beren. Presumably it would be different this time, although if Thingol did still request a Silmaril, Fingolfin would be happy to give him one on the condition that he got to go along and chuck the thing at Thingol’s head.

. . . Which was a terrible idea that was nonetheless intensely satisfying to think about.

Anyway.

Presumably, though, Thingol would ask for something equally stupidly dangerous. If Fingolfin heard about it in time, he could invite himself along to help on the excuse that . . . Well, surely someone in Beren’s family would still do something useful for someone in Fingolfin’s family at some point. Failing that, Fingolfin could claim to be either a big supporter of young love or a big supporter of annoying Thingol, depending on the diplomatic situation at the time.

So that would get them Dior, hopefully, but frankly, all Fingolfin knew about Dior and Nimloth was who their parents were, who their kids were, that they’d owned a Silmaril, and that they’d killed some of his nephews and then been killed by the rest. He had no idea what had attracted them to each other. He’d just have to hope it would still be present.

If it was, that would give them Elwing.

Who would presumably (hopefully) not be a refugee this time. She’d be in Doriath. A Doriath that might still have the Mantle if they managed to keep Thingol from getting himself killed. 

How was she supposed to meet Earendil?

Later, he told himself firmly. He’d worry about those details later. That was about as far ahead as he could plan. They’d meet somehow, he’d make sure of it if he had to kidnap one of them, and that would get Elrond and Elros born. There would be plenty of time to get Elrond and Celebrian together, presuming he could keep Elrond alive long enough. Elros . . . he didn’t even know who Elros had married. Elros was on his own. If in a couple of ages Elrond started getting concerned about his daughter being interested in one of her many times removed cousins named Aragorn, he’d know it had worked out. If not . . . He had no idea.

So that was ever-

No. No, it wasn’t everyone. He’d forgotten Gil-Galad.

What he was supposed to do about Gil-Galad, he had no idea, since all of his children had either been genuinely ignorant or else supremely unwilling to share where the boy had actually come from.

Fingolfin wasn’t even entirely certain he was related by blood to the man. It was entirely possible someone had - found? adopted? kidnapped? created him from scrap metal and spare gears in a fit of boredom? - acquired him in something other than the usual way. If that was the case, and his original parents survived this time, he could still exist but under an entirely different name.

Maybe someone had told Finarfin something. Or Feanor. If any of Feanor’s sons had known, surely they would have been willing to tell their father given everything else they had done for the man.

Of course, that was assuming Feanor had asked, something Fingolfin rather doubted.

He’d manage. Somehow. He was going to drag this family into existence if he had to stab Morgoth in the face and write love letters under fake names to do it.

One of those potential scenarios was a lot more disturbing than the other, and it wasn’t the one that involved stabbing, but Fingolfin was willing to do it.

[squirrelwrangler]

Oh yeah, that Amazon LotR show is happening- saw a post about it cross my dash. Thankfully I have no hopes or expectations for it, very likely won’t watch it, and more concerned with “Shit I hope isn’t in the show”, just so I don’t have to start blacklisting even more. Which, Maglor at all referenced is top of that list, a ‘holy shit I don’t want’ rivaled only by ‘heroic sympathetic Ar-Pharazon’. Am ambivalent as always if Annatar/Celebrimbor subtext would annoy me or not because that’s a take it or leave it don’t care zone for me. It’s Second Age and Second Age is Númenor and Celebrimbor, neither of which appeal. And if it is strictly Young Aragorn ...sigh. I’ve always been a Team Steward Gondor gal ever since my first read-through when Denethor appeared on-page and stood up to Gandalf. But mostly it’s that “But what if the Arkenstone was a Silmaril” fandom impulse to insert the Fëanorians into every Tolkien work that I most despise.

[tanadrin]

PATCH 1.1 - “REALMS OF BELERIAND”

We’re currently prototyping a new PVP and territory control system in the northwest of Middle Earth exclusively, in the Beleriand mega-zone. We’ve opted to focus on this area for the time being, due to the popularity of PvP combat in this era.

We’re aware that Human players are currently experiencing a bug where their character auto-deletes on death. We’re looking into ways of fixing this.

Unfortunately, we will not be able to restore any characters lost due this bug.

The former survival/crafting system has been adapted to work with the new PvP system, but this has resulted in some outstanding issues. Currently, for unknown reasons, Melkor-aligned players cannot enter the Doriath subzone. Player “Melian” says this is because of “her girdle.” We are currently investigating.

Players have complained that hidden cities like Gondolin and Nargothrond are “OP.” We belive the hidden cities of Gondolin and Nargothrond offer important havens for Eldar players looking to rest, level up, and trade, and we won’t be forcing players TurgOnThis or F1nr0d to reveal their location at this time. We have, however, forced player TurgOnThis to change his name, because, gross, dude. You can now /w him at “Turgon.”

Players harassing fellow players for choosing Humans, for being “useless n00bs,” or for being suspected “melkies” may be subject to sanction, up to and including being cast into the outermost dark banned. Please observe the Community Guidelines both in-game and on the forums.

Just because you have the Light of the Trees in your faces doesn’t mean you’re better than them.

I mean, yes, your stats are literally better because of the Light of the Trees buff, but you know what I mean.

We recognize that newer players may feel it is unfair that older players have access to buffs like Light of the Trees, Older than the Freaking Moon, and Hideous Creature Forgotten at the Roots of the World since the Beginning of Days, in addition to items like Silmarils, Seeds of Telperion, and Vanyar-forged steel, which are unavailable to newer players. However, we feel these legacy buffs and items add an important dimension to the game, and we don’t feel comfortable removing them at this time.

PATCH 1.1 - NEWS UPDATE

We’re aware of the major PVP incident which began at Angband at 2 PM GMT today, however, since it took place entirely within the framework of the new PVP system, and our checks to hold player “Melkor” in place seem to be working, we’re calling this one Working As Intended. Those who wish the avoid a PVP experience may wish to petition the Valar for entry into Valinor, or seek a less populated region of Middle Earth.

We’re aware the Valar are currently only letting Eldar players into Valinor, citing the reason of “fucking n00bs.” We’re talking to them.

We are aware of the duel between FinnGolfin69 and Melkor at the gates of Angband. Yes, we got screenshots. Yes, it was cool as hell.

We are aware of player Melkor’s complaint about “thorondor king of the eagles more like king of the NINJA LOOTERS,” but frankly he can kiss the dev team’s asses on this one.

FinnGolfin69 has *not* been banned, but he has elected not to respawn so far. He lost some very good gear; let’s be understanding, folks.

PATCH 1.1 - NEWS UPDATE 2

We’re currently investigating a rumor than player “BerenTheCareBear” wandered south after the ruin of his people in Dorthonion, through the girle of Melian into Doriath, somehow managed to reproduce the Nan Elmoth bug with player Luthien_Birdsong that we fixed back in the beta, outwitted Luthien_Birdsong’s entire guild, traveled back north, that the two of them captured a PVP point defended by one of the oldest Maiar players on the server, WolfMan69, snuck into Angband, successfully cast a high-level Sleep spell on the entire fortress, stole a Silmaril, fought a tamed Greater Ancient Dire Wolf to a standstill by kiting it with a hunter’s pet, and then exploited a respawn bug to be reunited on the outermost shores of the world in the halls of the dead, convinced notorious Finnish hardass MetalMandos to let them return to Middle Earth by typing a poem into chat, returned to their shared player house in Tol Galen, and logged off never to be seen by another player again.

I’ll be honest, folks, we really don’t know what to make of this one. MetalMandos isn’t answering his PMs, and the Angband vent server is just angry Russians screaming at each other right now.

Tell you what: if they ever log back in, we’ll deal with it then.

PATCH 1.2 - “TEARS UNNUMBERED SHALL YE SHED”

He warned you.

You arrogant sons of bitches, he warned you.

He’d been playing this game since alpha, when the only asset we had was “generic_god_throne_01″ and we couldn’t even afford to render models for the players.

They both had.

But no, after Finwe cancelled his sub and xxFeanorxx ragequit, you, his guildies, just had to go poke the bear one more time

And get all the Humans and Dwarves in on your little suicide plan, too

You could have hung out in Valinor building dope-ass cities and giant pixel art anime characters like all the Vanyar have been doing since release

But no, you wanted to be hard-ass PVPers. You wanted to be tough. You wanted to be cool.

You thought you were a bunch of EVE Online players, with your top notch spying and your leaked chat logs. You thought you were the friggin’ Mittani or something.

You really /yelled AUTA IL LOME into chat in all caps like you were doing something, didn’t you?

(Our linguist was very pleased by that, by the way. He’s genuinely crying right now. “They read the lore!” is all he keeps saying over and over.)

(That’s the one bright spot, I guess. You’ve made one old British nerd very happy.)

You got Turgon to open the leaguer of Gondolin, you got Fingon to raise the banner of the Noldor, and you thought you were going to win.

Don’t yell at us. We didn’t do shit. He played by the rules this time.

Not one exploit. We checked the logs. Everything by the book.

He knew what you were up to the whole time.

He was ready.

He called every Maia player who’d ever logged in and asked them if they wanted to go down in MMO history.

I don’t think I’ve seen Gothmog online since the end of the beta.

Now the strength of Beleriand is broken, the bodies of Elves and Men are scattered across the greenfields, which are choked with ash. I think you might have gotten half the Human population of the zone deleted tonight.

PATCH 1.2.1

Ard Galen, the large green subzone between Dorthonion and Thangorodrim has been renamed “Anfauglith,” the Plain of Choking Ash. Its look and random spawns have been updated to reflect the result.

The realm of F1ngerGons is no more. The Hithlum zone has been updated to reflect this.

The surviving Eldar players in Hithlum have been forcibly exiled to Thangorodrim.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Hithlum.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Nevrast.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Anfauglith.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Brethil.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Dorthonion.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Lothlann.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Nan-tathren.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Brithombar.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Eglarest.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Upper Sirion.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Talath Dirnen.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Thargelion.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” [...]

Player “Melkor” has earned the World First Achievement “King of Beleriand”

Player “Melkor” has earned the World First Achievement “Warlord: Kill 10,000 enemy players in 24 hours!”

PATCH 1.2.2

A bug allowing Elder Dragons to permanently Curse Human players has been fixed.

An unusal self-PK incident involving the remnants of the DorLominGang guild in Brethil is being investigated, but we don’t think there were any actual exploits involved.

The dev team would like to remind you not to play with unidentified cursed artifact weapons if you can’t handle losing your character.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the contested territory of Nargothrond.

The dev team would also like to remind you that “hidden city” does not in fact mean “invincible city,” especially if you decide to unhide your hidden city.

PATCH 1.2.2 NEWS UPDATE

The PK incident in Doriath was within the bounds of the Community Guidelines, and will not be reversed. The artifact necklace [Nauglamir] and the artifact jewel [Silmaril] will remain with their current owners.

Since player Melian has apparently quit the game for good, the so-called “girdle bug” is no longer active. Doriath should no longer be considered a PvE zone, and is not safe for low-level players. We’ve taken the liberty of marking it “contested territory” on the online map.

There is a rumor that guildmates of Luthien_birdsong and BerenTheCareBear spotted them logged in for 34 minutes, beginning at 4:14 AM GMT, and that BerenTheCareBear is responsible for the Gelion ganking incident and the disappearance of the [Nauglamir] and [Silmaril] artifacts. We have checked the server logs, and this isn’t true.

Likewise, the rumor that the Tol Galen subzone will be for a brief time like a vision of the deathless land of Valinor, and that no place in the World of Ardacraft has ever been so fair, so fruitful, or so full of life, is likewise categorically false.

Low-level characters and characters with interesting items are advised to avoid the Tol Galen subzone for the forseeable future.

PATCH 1.3

Player faction “None” now controls the contested territory of Doriath. Due to the recent battle at Doriath between the player faction “SonsOfFeanor” and “Kingdom_of_Doriath,” all NPCs in the zone have been killed. The zone is now considered depopulated, but enterprising low-level players should be advised that the Doriath subzone is surrounded on all four sides by subzones controlled by the “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” player faction.

Player faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” now controls the Hidden Realm contested territory of Gondolin.

Please stop petitioning the dev team and community managers for a rollback. Beleriand is not the only region of World of Ardacraft to play in. We realize that for many players the Beleriand PVP experience is important, but the faction “XXX_CROWN_OF_MORGOTH_XXX” is not using exploits or violating the TOS. Infighting between other player factions is not a reason to roll back the server state.

Let us remind you, the Doom of Mandos was just something our resident Finnish weirdo typed into a chat box. If by treason of kin unto kin and fear of treason, all things which you begin well turn to evil, that sounds like a you problem.

The Havens of Sirion are now considered contested territory.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE

We’re adding a new “abandoned” territory type to account for the large number of subzones in the Beleriand region that have become effectively depopulated. Now when a subzone is abandoned, its spawns will automatically shift to a PvE flavor.

The Havens of Sirion are now considered Abandoned.

Players seeking to flee to Valinor will have to take it up with the Valar. As far as I’m aware, they’re still not accepting refugees.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 2

We cannot confirm or deny rumors that player “EarendilBoatman” has successfully entered the Valinor zone.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 3

What Vanyar and other Valinorean Elves do with their time is up to them. Don’t email us.

We are not currently planning on lifting the restriction on Vala players entering or leaving Valinor.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 4

After consulting with the devs, we have lifted the restriction on Vala players entering and leaving Valinor.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 5

Please be patient; we’re currently experiencing some server lag due to a slight increase in player traffic in the northern Great Sea zone.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 6

Please be patient; we’re currently experiencing some server lag due to a slight increase in player traffic in the Coast of Beleriand zone.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 7

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Nevrast.

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Falas. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Lammoth. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Hithlum. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of West Beleriand. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Arvernien. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Talath Dirnen. 

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Brethil.

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of Mithrim.

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of  Taur-nu-Fuin.

Player faction “True_king_of_arda” now controls the contested territory of East Beleriand.

Player faction “True_king_of_arda”[...]

Player “Manwe_L337LordofArda” has earned the World First achievement “Wrath of the West: Kill 50,000 Orcs in Battle”

Player “Manwe_L337LordofArda” has earned the achievement King of Beleriand.

The player faction “SonsOfFeanor” has been destroyed by “Manwe_L337LordofArda.”

Player “SongmasterMaedhros” has earned the achievement “Too Dumb To Live: Claim A Cursed Artifact Fate Forbids You From Owning”

Due to ongoing server instability, we recommend all players exit the Beleriand zone as soon as possible.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 8

Some players have complained about the lack of official response, and said that “posting territory changes and achievement data isn’t a news update.”

Of the march of the hosts of Valinor to the north of Middle-Earth, little can be posted, for among them went none of the players who had dwelt and suffered in the Hither Lands, and all the Vanyar players were more interested in getting in on the achievements, and screenshotting themselves teabagging a dead Balrog.

Eonwe, Herald of Manwe, has summoned the remaining Elves of Beleriand to depart Middle Earth. We strongly advise any Elves remaining in Beleriand to heed the summons this time.

Player “SongmasterMaedhros” has complained that the [Silmaril]s should not be considered “cursed artifacts” by their rightful ownerns. We think SongmasterMaedhros should consider carefully whether, after PKing 2/3rds of his allies, he can be considered a rightful owner of an Artifact-tier jewel with the [Blessed by a Valar] and [Bound to the Fate of the Word] attributes.

Once again, we strongly advise all players remaining in the Beleriand zone to leave it immediately. The server is still quite unstable, and who knows what could happen if it crashes while you’re logged in. You know our policy regarding rollbacks.

Player “Melkor” has been cast into the outermost dark banned  cast into the outermost dark banned banned bound by the chain Angainor, had his crown beaten into a collar around his neck, and been thrust through the Door of Outermost Night, into the Timeless Void. Player EarendilBoatman had volunteered to keep watch on the walls of the world, bearing the last remaining [Silmaril] as his sign in the sky. There he will await the closing of the last server, and the judgement of the devs.

Thus ends the notes for the first patch cycle of World of ArdaCraft. If they have passed from the high and beautiful into darkness and ruin, that was of old the fate of ArdaCraft Marred; and if any change shall come, and the Marring be amended, Manwe_L337LordofArda and Qu33nVarda may know, but they have not revealed it, and it is not declared in the dooms of MetalMandos.

PATCH 1.3 NEWS UPDATE 9

Due to popular demand for something less depressing, we’re pleased to announce that the first major expansion for World of ArdaCraft, debuting this year at ArdaCon, will be a city-building, exploration, and resource-gathering focused expansion. We’re tentatively calling it “Kings of Numenor,” and we think it’ll be a big hit for new and returning players alike. Build settlements, explore the furthest reaches of Middle Earth, and lead your people to a new golden age in “Kings of Numenor”! Coming this fall!

Humans show up in the Silmarillon like a game patch. Halflings too. Hmm.