#oc arda

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

@thethreefaes asked:

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

Alma loves rainstorms with distant rolling thunder, but little or no lightning. He finds it soothing. But, admittedly, if the wind picks up and the thunder and lightning get more loud and flashy, he gets a little anxious.

Errol likes the calm storms in much the same way Alma does, but he also likes lightening storms that are more intense. He calls them nature's fireworks and will go out just to watch them and cheer when a good strike hits and shakes the earth. He finds it exhilarating.

Arda likes calm rain and thunder, but, like Alma, gets a little nervous when the weather gets more intense. She's more of a rain in the sunshine type of girl.

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

Alma noted the nervous exchange of glances between Arda and Jez as they looked concernedly between each other. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he waited for Jez to respond. Finally, he did, agreeing to speak in private with Alma. "Thank you," was all he said, quietly turning to follow Jez out into the alleyway.

Jez acted like he was in trouble for something, shrinking his shoulders in and refusing to make eye contact. Normally Alma filled that role, but this time his rambunctious friend was the one feeling small. It wasn't Alma's intention to make him feel that way. He did want Jez to take the discussion they were about to have seriously, but he didn't want him to be upset.

That's why it surprised him a bit when he asked if Alma was upset with him. "No," he answered honestly. "I'm not upset with you. I'm just... confused. You sang a song up there that I haven't ever heard before and... pardon me if I misinterpreted it but-" He paused, unsure if he was just being conceited or if he had indeed assumed correctly. "Was it about me?"

Jez grinned at Arda's answer, but it quickly faded when he felt Alma almost instantly recoil from him. His heart sank, stomach flipped, feeling himself clam up with a shiver that felt like it ran over his whole person. He felt absolutely nauseous. If it was at all possible, he'd lost what little color his pale skin had.

He had to be upset with him. Fuck. He shouldn't have played the damn song. The therapist was wrong. He was wrong. He knew it. He knew it was a stupid idea.

He gave Arda a quick, almost nervous.. maybe even scared glance before releasing her, shoving his hands into his pockets, shoulders slouched inward. As much as he wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere, he knew he couldn't. He chewed at his lip, giving a small nod and a very quiet, "Sure, mate...." His eyes plastered to the floor as he shuffled his way out the back door and into the alleyway. If Alma was going to be upset with him, he'd rather no one else witness it.

He leaned up against the wall, standing in a way that made him look much smaller than he was. "Yer upset wiff me.... aren't ya?" Jez asked, still refusing to look up at Alma, only barely managing to even look at the other's shoes.

[farthertothemoon]

Anddddd more sketch work of the Hunter! She's extremely allergic to those feathers :3

[conversacomsmaug]

My OC in Middle earth

Anoriel Russandol - She as Noldor and Fëanorian. Maglor's granddaughter

[vinyatar]

Lirien of Doriath for art chain game (oc belongs to @from-lothlorien-to-helms-deep / Lyrien on discord)

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

@fumikosushi asked:

🎈 BALLOON — what is something you've created and/or accomplished recently that you're proud of?

"I made a new dress! Sewed all the pieces together myself," Arda touts proudly.

[saephrond]

"—One could linger forever in such beauty. But, perhaps, it is the brevity of Autumn that lends to its charm.

[ass-deep-in-demons]

Can I please get a headcanon of Boromir having a crush on Gandalfs apprentice who looks after the hobbits like their mum? Boromir is kinda their dad/cool uncle so they both grow close together.

Also Boromir, apprentice and hobbits falling to sleep in a big cuddle puddle 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

Girl (gn) thank you so much for this awesome ask! I get the feeling that you had something slightly different in mind, but I suffer from a plotter's disease and I created an entire plotline in these headcanons and also two mini-fics. There's some angst, but there is CUDDLES, as requested :D Hope you will like it :)

Boromir x Gandalf's Apprentice

headcanons and two ficlets

Found Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, rated G, 4250 words, she/her pronouns for OC, TW: canon Moria events & aftermath

I ✦ The Pupil ✦

Gandalf has been around for thousands of years. The peoples of Middle Earth tell different stories about him, but in every corner of the known (and unknown) World one of his many names has been heard.

During his travels, nobody knows exactly when or where, Gandalf finds a young one with magical talent. He does not know what strange anomaly might have caused a child to be born with arcane affinity, normally reserved for the Ainur such as himself, but… stranger things have happened on Arda. Perhaps the Illuvatar himself willed it. If so, it would be unwise to leave the child to its own fate.

At first he visits her home from time to time and shows her his fireworks and his pipe smoke magics. Her caretakers find him strange, but he pays them no heed, comes and goes as he pleases.

His suspicions are confirmed - the child can be taught to replicate some of his simple tricks, proving she is able to tune in to the Song of the Ainur. Her power is not great, barely a wisp of magic compared to Gandalf’s own, but still, it is worth cultivating. Gandalf deems it his duty to take the fledgeling under his wing and make her his pupil.

Gandalf tells his Pupil about his travels and about the secrets of Middle Earth. In time, as she grows, she starts yearning to leave her home and go exploring with the Wizard.

When the Pupil is old enough, Gandalf takes her with him on a journey. They spend years travelling together. Keeping up with Gandalf is not easy for the Pupil, but she perseveres.

With the Grey Wizard, the Pupil visits the Western Kingdoms, the Elven Realms, and Eriador. She helps Gandalf with his quests and meets many new people.

Later, when she is more experienced, Gandalf deems her ready to spread her wings and have her own adventures. She travels doing errands and fulfilling quests that her Master assigns her.

She spends some time studying under Saruman - from him she learns the basics of arcane knowledge. However, Saruman fails to appreciate her quiet, subtle talent. He is not pleased with her progress, nor is she with his teaching methods, and they part ways on non-too-amicable terms.

Her stay in Mirkwood is much more fruitful. From the Silvan Elves, she picks up the basics of scouting and learns how to read the signs of the Forest. She is fascinated with Radagast, and dedicates time to assist him in his tasks as the Guardian of the Woods - learning about the powers that lie dormant in the ancient trees. Radagast teaches her how to care for animals and heal what is broken. Nurturing and patient by nature, the Pupil responds well to the Brown Wizard’s tutelage.

The Pupil is present in Mirkwood when Aragorn brings Gollum there for safeguarding, and later when Gandalf comes to question him. She learns of the Ring and of Sauron’s return.

Gandalf assigns her a mission to go to Erebor, to enlist the help of the Dwarves. She arrives at Rivendell with Gloin, Gimli and the rest of the Dwarven deputation.

She is not deemed important enough to join the Council of Elrond, and besides, Gandalf has other plans for her. He sends her forth to scout the gap of Rohan, in case they need to pass there on their way to Mordor.

After the Council and the period of preparations, the Fellowship sets off. The Pupil finds them on the trail further South. She is able to clear any doubts for them: the Gap of Rohan is overrun with Saruman’s spies, and so the passage is closed to them.

They decide to go through the Redhorn Gate. Gandalf orders his Pupil to return to Rivendell, but to his surprise, for the first time since he took her as his ppprentice, she defies him. She wants to travel with the Fellowship, intent on helping her Master in any way she can.

Faced with her obstinacy, Gandalf finds a task in which she can indeed be of use. He’s been growing more and more irritated with the Hobbits’ mischief. They are loud, impish, and unused to living in the wilderness. “So long as you keep the Hobbits from pestering me, you may travel with us. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, my stubborn Pupil,” he grumbles.

The Pupil, who is of a gentle and giving nature, but also stern when she needs to be, quickly forms a familial bond with not only the Hobbits, but the entire Fellowship.

She has met Aragorn during her earlier travels with Gandalf. The Ranger knows he can rely on her scouting, and is relieved to have someone beside himself and Legolas who knows their way around the woods. She helps Aragorn gather herbs and imbues his mixtures with her subtle healing spells.

Though she’s met Legolas in passing during her Mirkwood days, she only becomes better acquainted with him during the Fellowship’s trek south. Legolas is glad to know someone who is well acquainted with his home, and shares his love for the woods.

Because of her earlier mission to Erebor, and the shared journey from the Lonely Mountain to Rivendell, she is well acquainted with Gimli. The dwarf teases her for being “too elfy” and a “tree lover”, but he is very grateful for her kindness and her efforts to ease tensions within the Fellowship.

Frodo has long known her as Gandalf’s Apprentice, and the rest of the Hobbits warm up to her quickly. They are delighted to be around someone, who, like themselves, isn’t so strongly focused on the topics of warfare and survival. Istead, they bond over their shared appreciation for a good meal and a good laugh. Tasked with keeping them out of trouble, she often mother-hens them, especially Merry and Pippin, who are the youngest.

Boromir is the only one who, not knowing her prior to their meeting on the trail, has some trouble trusting her at first. He is generally suspicious of magic users, and also a little bit jealous of how quickly she builds good rapport with the Hobbits (though he will not admit it).

That being said, he might not be so immune to her caring touch as he thinks…

II ✦ Soup for the Soul ✦

I should not let them fall asleep like that. True although it was, this realisation came to Boromir rather late.

After their failed excursion through the Redhorn Pass, the Fellowship had descended to once again take shelter under the canopy of the woodlands of Eriador. They now had only one route open, through the Mines of Moria, and all save for the Dwarf did not take well to that prospect. They were travelling South, slowly and reluctantly, still recovering from the snowstorm that cut their path.

Earlier today, once they had set up camp, Boromir had organised a fencing lesson for Merry and Pippin. He had hoped that some light exercise would speed their recovery and help them regain some of their lost strength. Even Frodo had joined on this occasion, which gladdened Boromir. Their journey had not lasted long, but the first signs of wear and discouragement could be already seen on the young Baggins.

After their sword practice (sword being a generous word for the dirks that the Hobbits carried), they all sat down under a tree to sharpen their blades. Pippin had trouble with maintaining the angle, and asked Boromir to show him how it’s done. As Boromir expertly whetted the dagger, the three hobbits leaned in on him, supposedly to better observe and learn. Boromir was none the wiser, and only Meriadoc’s loud snore made him finally realise that the three Halflings had fallen asleep, using his padded shoulders and arms as pillows. Now he was stuck under them, not wanting to disturb their sleep - not when Frodo was peaceful at last, after several nights during which Boromir had heard the Hobbit toss and turn.

Tired and hungry, Boromir resigned himself to his fate. As he could not move without waking the little ones, and it was gradually getting dark, he quietly observed the Fellowship’s campfire from a distance. Gandalf was sitting on a log by the fire and smoking his pipe, clearly content to have some peace and quiet. Samwise was busy cleaning after the meal - a stew which Boromir did not have the chance to taste yet, and probably wouldn’t now, not while it was hot at least. Gimli had been assigned with securing the perimeter - it was his turn to scout the surrounding forest and make sure they were safe for the night. Aragorn and Legolas were seated together some distance away from the campfire and discussing something in hushed tones - likely their strategy for approaching the Gates of Moria. Boromir was rarely included in their talks, which sat ill with him. Not for the first time he regretted their less-than-optimal introduction during the Council in Imladris.

There remained one more member of their party - the woman who everyone except Boromir seemed to already know. They called her the Pupil, likely because of Mithrandir. My young Pupil this, my clever Pupil that, my stubborn Pupil, my silly Pupil... - the Wizard  would always say, and it stuck. Boromir could not tell her age - she looked neither old nor young. She did bear elven nor dwarven features, nor orcish for that matter… and yet he could not be sure she was wholly of the race of Men. Boromir did not know what to make of her.

Right now she was crouching next to the campfire, her back turned to Boromir, so he could not see what she was doing. He had not trusted her, at first. She hadn’t been part of their original team. She did not seem proficient in combat, nor very sturdy. He had been angry when she had declared they couldn’t travel through the Gap of Rohan, as he himself would have preferred that route to any other. And yet her intel had proved correct. She was also useful in other ways. During the snowstorm atop Caradhras, he had witnessed her magic - not flashy, like the Wizard’s fireworks, but rather slow and subtle. Mithrandir refused to light a fire for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention, but she had used her quiet talent to keep the little ones from freezing with potions. She had imbued Boromir’s leather grieves with some sort of a warming spell, too, even though it had seemed to sap at her strength. He had to assume she was loyal to the Grey Pilgrim, and so, by extension, loyal to the Ringbearer’s mission.

He noticed that she stood up, then. Instead of addressing the Wizard, she turned around to face Boromir, and he noticed a bowl in her hands. He then guessed what her purpose by the fire had been: she was heating up the leftovers of the stew. Slowly, carefully, so as not to spill anything, she approached Boromir and the Hobbits’ resting place under the tree.

She kneeled and set the steaming stew on the forest floor beside them. Then, once their eyes met, she touched her lips with her finger signalling him to remain quiet. That he could do. She noiselessly stood up and scampered off back to the campfire, leaving Boromir once again. The smell of the stew reached his nostrils and he cursed quietly. Some help she was, leaving him to smell the meal, but without the means to taste it! Not without disturbing the Hobbits, at least.

But he was not left to pine after the stew for long. Soon she returned to him, carrying a bundle that she then unfolded to reveal a chunky warm blanket. She covered them with it, Boromir and the three sleeping hobbits, tucking the edges in gently. It did help to ward off the evening chill, Boromir admitted.

Then she plopped down to the forest floor next to Boromir, sat cross legged and picked up the bowl once again. Is she going to make me watch her eat it? Boromir thought and felt a surge of irritation at her inconsiderate behaviour. She scooped up a hearty portion of the stew with a spoon, but, to Boromir’s alarm, she did not bring it to her  mouth. Instead, she directed the spoon surely and smoothly to Boromir’s own lips.

In that moment, Boromir would sooner open his mouth from sheer shock than for the sake of any sort of cooperation. He was a Man grown! It has been… nigh to four decades since he had let anyone spoon-feed him last. He turned his head away firmly. The Pupil, however, would not give up so easily. She reached out with her free hand and gently swept Boromir’s hair away from his face.

The gesture made him flustered. It has been… quite some time since any woman has touched his face. He was thankful for the shroud of dusk. He had nowhere to run however, and he felt her nudge his lips with the spoon, urging him to open his mouth. He was forced to meet her gaze once again. 

What he found on her face was not amusement, nor condescension, but rather... gentle pleading. She really was only trying to help.

"Let me", she mouthed silently.

He shook his head and pursed his lips even tighter.

Then, as if his own body wanted to play tricks on him, they both heard his traitorous stomach give out a loud growl.

The Pupil raised her eyebrow at Boromir.

Well? Are you going to deny that you’re hungry now? her expression seemed to demand.

He rolled his eyes as a universal way of saying whatever, I care not, and finally opened his mouth.

A spoonful of warm stew finally landed on his tongue, and he felt the most delightful warmth spread through his body. He had to fight an urge to growl at the pleasant sensation.

The Pupil smiled.

There. That wasn’t so hard, Boromir read from her content face.

This was a good idea, after all, he thought after the second spoon. He had been ravenous, he realised, and the stew was doing wonders for his mood. It was surprisingly nice to have someone take care of him that way. For too long a time he had been only attending to the needs of others, not accepting any help for himself.

He met her concentrated gaze, as she continued to feed him the stew, restoring his strength with each spoonful.

“You did good,” she mouthed silently and Boromir furrowed his brows, confused. “With the little ones,” she added, and vaguely indicated the sleeping Hobbits with her head. Oh, she means the sword-practice, he thought, and felt no small satisfaction from her compliment.

He was reminded of how taking care of Faramir was always a duty that filled him with joy and pride. This was not dissimilar, he realised, and it was nicer still to have someone help him and share some of that responsibility. He felt contentment at what they’d accomplished together: Pippin breathing deeply, with his head resting on Boromir’s arm, Meriadoc snoring quietly slumped against his friend, and Frodo - looking strengthened and at ease, sleeping soundly propped against the tree on Boromir’s other side.

Is this how being a father feels like? What if I had a child of my own one day? he asked himself. But this thought of parenthood that came to him, perhaps for the first time in his life, was so strange and foreign, and so surprising, that he dared not dwell on it any longer. Instead he resigned himself to the gentle care of the strange woman, who turned out to be… not so strange, after all.

III ✦ Picking up the Pieces ✦

Boromir was sure he would never forget the moment Gandalf fell.

He remembered the unearthly heat and the fumes of sulphur that wafted from the hellish chasm. He remembered Mithrandir’s white knuckles, holding on to the collapsed bridge’s edge, and the Wizard’s desperate last message to the Fellowship: Fly, you fools!

But what he remembered the most, and what was was going to forever haunt him, was the cry of Gandalf’s devoted Pupil. Her broken, desperate wail, the kind that a mortally wounded animal might give out, as if her very heart was rent out of her chest and thrown into the fiery pit.

She wanted to jump in after her Master, and would have, but for Boromir’s interference. Unmoved by her screams of protest, he had hoisted her up over his shoulder and heeded the Wizard’s last bidding. He ran.

He ran after the others, despite the army of orcs upon their tail and despite her angry trashing in his grip. He ran to the open sky and to safety, so that they both could live to fight another day.

But right now it did not look like she had any fight left in her. They were, all of the Fellowship, cooped up on the border of Caras Galadhorn, the elven realm of Lothlorien. Aragorn and Legolas were currently negotiating their safe passage through the woodlands with the elven Marchwardens. It was a heated dispute in Sindarin, of which Boromir could catch only certain words, but he understood enough to know they were not likely to face a warm welcome.

The rest of the Fellowship had been allowed to rest. They were, all of them, in foul spirits. Gimli had been quiet ever since he had learned of the tragic fate of Balin’s Kingdom, and Boromir could only surmise that the Dwarf needed his space to fully take in the bad news. He was loath to intrude upon his friend’s quiet contemplation. Frodo and Pippin were weeping openly and Sam was trying to offer them whatever comfort he could, mostly by wiping their wet cheeks and noses time after time.

The state of Gandalf’s Pupil worried Boromir the most. Since he had carried her away from the danger, once she stopped resisting the rescue, she went completely still and quiet, her eyes unseeing. She had not spoken a word, not responded to any attempts at conversation. He could only suspect she was in some sort of shock. He’d seen it on the battlefield enough times to recognize the signs. It made sense;  as Boromir understood it, Mithrandir had been a father figure to the woman, someone she considered family. In a way, with the Wizard, her entire life had fallen down that chasm. He felt helpless; he wanted to console her, but the sheer magnitude of her loss left him overwhelmed.

He felt a tug at his gambeson and looked down. It was Meriadoc.

“Go to her,” the Hobbit whispered.

“I… I would not presume. I do not know what to say to her,” Boromir confessed, dejected.

“Then do not say anything,” Merry insisted. “Just go there and hold her,” he added. “Trust me, it will help.”

Boromir took a hesitant step in her direction. Then another. He spared a thought to his appearance… he was bone-tired, aching and covered in goblin ichor head to toe. Not exactly conducive to physical intimacy. Then again, she was in a similar state, and, really, vanity was the least of their concerns.

Tentatively, he sat next to her on the wooden platform. Up close he could see that, although she was sitting motionless and staring ahead, her eyes were damp. The tears had washed away the dust from her face, forming clean streaks down her cheeks.

He had long since stopped regarding her as merely Gandalf’s Apprentice, or just an ally in a dangerous quest. Instead, upon seeing the state she was in, his heart wept with her…

*

Gone. 

Her mind could not comprehend it. Everything she had learned about the Wizard during their life together contradicted this truth. Her Master could not die, he was simply too powerful, too wise, too… godly, for the mundane laws of life and death to apply to him. And yet, what had happened - happened. She’d seen it with her own eyes and his fall would now play out in her mind again and again, each time shattering the ground that she had built her life on.

Such kindness, such wealth of knowledge as her Master’s would never again grace Middle Earth, she was sure of it. And now that light was gone. Extinguished forever with a mere flick of a monster’s whip.

What shall I do now? Wherever shall I go? she wondered. Was she even welcome in the Fellowship anymore? Ever since she could remember, she had been Gandalf’s Pupil. And now that there was no Gandalf, who was she? A nobody. Aragorn and Frodo likely had no use for a nobody. But such thoughts were too painful to bear in her current state. So, instead she let them go and simply drifted in the darkness of her inner world, that was now forever marred by grief. She did not know where she was, or how much time had passed. A million years wouldn’t be enough to mourn her Master.

The first thing, the first sensation that managed to break through the dark shroud that surrounded her consciousness, was that of the warmth of another. Someone’s arm was on her back, rubbing gentle, soothing circles. Then that very same arm encircled her form and drew her into a hug. She had no wish to be consoled, she didn’t want any comfort. She wanted to cry, to wail and to tear at her clothing… But then she felt Boromir’s familiar presence. Him, she could let close. He had been a comfort to her during their travels many a time. She relaxed gradually and let her head fall back to find support against him.

Slowly but surely, his steadying touch made her come back to her senses and to the present moment. She was seated on the forest floor, she noted, in Lothlorien most likely, if her geographical knowledge had not failed her. Boromir was seated next to her, his back propped against one of the giant trees. He was also holding her in his arms, close to his chest and stroking her shoulder soothingly. His cheek rested atop her head. She had no strength nor care left in her to wonder what this closeness could mean for the two of them. She was just… immensely relieved and thankful for the comfort that his arms offered. She was at her lowest and most wretched, and yet he was willing to share that moment with her. For that, she would be forever thankful.

Boromir’s compassion moved her and tears spilled down her cheeks once again. Against her wishes she started sobbing. She felt the Man next to her stir. For a moment, she thought he would let go of her and leave her to her sorrow. Instead, Boromir tightened his embrace. Then he gently but surely pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“...mise me you’ll never do that again.” She realised he was whispering something to her halfway through his sentence.

“Never do what?” she asked.

“You… Back at the Bridge… at Khazad-dum,” he said quietly, “you wanted to jump after him, didn’t you?” This was no question. “I couldn’t bear it,” he said simply. “Promise me you’ll live.”

“What reason to live do I have left?” she asked. There was no bite to her words, just a simple statement of the facts, as they appeared to her.

“I could help you find a new purpose, if you would but let me,” he whispered to her ear and held her fast in his embrace. Against her better judgement, and despite their tragic circumstances, her heart did a flip. 

“Boromir, I…” she began, but her sentence was cut short when she felt a firm shove upon her side.

“Oi! Move!” a voice sounded from behind her. She turned around and saw the four Hobbits standing next to the tree. “Make some space for us! We all need a hug, and you’re hoarding all the best cuddles to yourself,” said Pippin and sniffed.

She regarded the Halflings: their red, puffy eyes and their wet cheeks. They were grieving too, no less than she was. Even so, Pippin was making an attempt at levity. For her sake, to help her bear the pain, she realised. The little ones had the gift of laughter, and it would not fail them even in their darkest hour.

Suddenly, her purpose became clear to her anew: Gandalf had bid her to take care of the Hobbits. And so she would continue to do that. Her Master might be gone, but his legacy yet lived. It lived through her, through the Fellowship, and their quest. She would not abandon them now.

“Of course, Master Peregrin,” she said, her voice creaky from all the crying. “There is cuddles enough for everyone.” And so Meriadoc weaselled his way between her and Boromir, and the rest of the Hobbits piled up atop them like hens on the roost.

*

“Do you think we ought to wake them?” asked Legolas. The Elf and Aragorn were back from their negotiations with the Marchwardens. The Lady of the Golden Forest had intervened on their behalf, and so not only the passage was now open to them, they would be provided rest and comfort in Caras Galadhorn. What the Elf and the Ranger did not expect was the sight of all their companions, even the Dwarf Gimli, passed out from grief and exhaustion atop one another in one giant group hug.

“Let them rest a while,” said Aragorn gently. “After what we've all been through, I’ve half the mind to join them myself.”

[fanfiction masterpost]

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

Arda smiled as Sirena placed her webbed hand over the girl's heart. "Yes, which means if I ever were to break my promise, it would also break my heart, so I'll never break it," she said with a determined nod of her head.

As Sirena swished her beautiful tail, Arda admired the way her scales caught the moonlight and reflected it back. Like the siren was greeting the moon itself. But when she said it was complicated having a tail, Arda frowned. "Why is it complicated?" she asked curiously. "It's so pretty and you must be able to swim so much faster than a human. You've got so much space in the ocean. I can only imagine it being wonderful having a tail."

Sirena said that the whales would migrate while she was here, and Arda nodded her head at that. She didn't know if they did or not, but she assumed Sirena would know better than her. When she told Arda to meet her there every night the moon shined, right here where they were now, Arda clapped her hands a couple times. "Oh yes, I would love that. But why is it dangerous on nights without a moon?" She was curious about that last part.

"Yes, they do make me happy." Arda smiled as she answered the question about the seashells. "I would love some more. I will bring you something nice tomorrow night too. We can exchange gifts." She was sad to see Sirena leave, but she was excited to see her again when they would reunite the next night. "Okay, I will see you soon. Goodbye for now, Sirena." Arda quickly gave the siren a kiss on the cheek before she dove off into the water, then waved for a bit until she disappeared from view.

"I suppose I better gather my seashells and head back to the house..." she said softly to herself, sighing before doing just that. She already missed the new friend she had made. But it would be fun looking for a gift to bring her the next time they met.

The siren smiled at Arda's gesture "This is where the heart is..." she said placing her hand briefly on her chest "I'll take your word for it then." Arda comment on Sirena's tail made her swish it graciously "Oh my tail, sometimes it is complicated to have one ya know?".

Sirena looked ahead, trying to mentally messure the time "So, that means you'll be here when whales migrate." she finally said thoughtfully.

"Long long time for that." The sea maiden lamented clicking her tongue. "I guess, ya could visit me, every day, I'll wait for ya here, right here." With both hands she touched the boulder where she was sitting "Just when the moon is in this place in the sky." Now one hand pointed to the moon revealing her glittering skin.

"On nights when there is no moon, I can not come, it is dangerous, for me. But, I will do my best to see ya, sweet sweet Arda. "Sirena watched carefully as Arda showed her, her sea finds, "They are very pretty, do they make Arda happy? If they do I will bring more when I see ya again, I promise." She crossed her heart with an X just as Arda did before.

"I learn fast ya see?" The siren commented.

"But now, I must go, here, same place tomorrow, I will wait for Arda." Sirena finally said as she was getting ready to jump in the water again.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

The Tolkien Fic Rec Project

Lovely people of this fandom:

Let us start a post collecting those long fics that will stay with you forever, that you'd get a physical copy of, that left you staring into the void.

One for those Top 3 fics you've read and that will forever hold your heart, so that others may find the same joy in them.

Rules:

Only 1 fic per reblog

Only fics over 50k words

Always include: Title, Author, Platform, Main ships, Warnings, Work Count, Completed or WIP, short & spoiler free description

Optional: reasons why you love this fic so much, specific part of the fandom, needed knowledge of canon

ONLY fics in the English language (so the most people can enjoy it)

ONLY fics from the TOLKIEN - fandom

I hope many people take part!

I'll of course start:

Title: To change the course of the future

Author: authoressjean

Platform: Ao3/ Archive of our own

Ships/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kili/Legolas, Fili/OFC (,Aragorn/Arwen, Dwalin/Ori, Gimli& Legolas)

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Word count: 180,353 (34 Chapters)

Status: Complete

Description: Before the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo finds out that his Ring is The One Ring, and decides to destroy it. So he starts towards Mordor, alone.

I enjoyed this fic especially because you get to know the characters in a new way, it is incredibly funny & heartbreaking at the same time, and the pairings are really enjoyable and happen naturally.

[wormedeye]

day 4: romance @eonweweek

🕊️Characters: Eönwë x male elf OC (whose lore i will probably drop in the tags)

🕊️Synopsis: Eönwë’s young apprentice wants to heal him after the sword training

🕊️Warnings: implied self-harm, bc eönwë’s a lil depressed, english is not my first language, 700+ drabble that turned out to be 1k+ drabble.

🕊️someday it will be on ao3

His sleeves were rolled up slightly above the elbow. The tunic was loose enough, though when Eönwë raised his sword to strike his muscles still strained the linen cloth. Dear Eru.

“Look, how I’m holding it.” Eönwë repeated the move once again,more slowly. “You don’t cut straight, tilt it slightly.”

Laireno nodded, trying to memorise everything from how his arms move to the expression on his face. Eönwë stopped and stuck the blade in the ground and folded his hands on the pommel.

“Now you.”

Laireno breathed out, took his sword and tried to repeat everything his mentor was doing. Eönwë watched silently, until he suddenly interrupted the elda in the middle of a move. Laireno froze obediently, frowning slightly from strain.

Eönwë walked behind the elf’s back and placed his hand on the elf’s forearm, just short of the elbow. Laireno understood the unspoken order and unbent his arm until Eönwë stopped him. And something was still bothering him, so he also corrected the direction of the sword, bending the elf’s hand. The linen sleeve crept up Eönwë‘s arm, following the movement, revealing a bandage hidden beneath.

“Your hands are shaking.” The Maia noticed. “Are you tired?”

Laireno shook his head desperately.

“No, Sir, just trying not to move.”

“Do tell me, if you are, and we will take a break or finish for today, alright? I don’t want you to overtire yourself.”

“Okay.”

Eönwë returned to where he was standing and told him to repeat the whole thing from the beginning. Laireno did. He tried really hard, wanting to impress his mentor. He had listened closely, he had watched carefully, he could repeat this movement that Eönwë was coprrectingfor the second time already.

“That’s it.” Eönwë finally commanded. “You need to rest.”

Laireno lowered his sword and looked at the Maia with hope in his eyes.

“Did I do it? Was it good?”

Eönwë almost smiled.

“Yes. You did very well.”

Laireno beamed, and then Eönwë couldn’t hold back a small smile. A strange, incorrect smile, but still a smile. It was never right on Eönwë‘s face. He always frowned for some reason, sometimes even lowering the corners of his lips instead of raising them like everyone. Like he wasn’t truly happy. But Laireno was, every time he saw his mentor smile.

Eönwë leaned on his sword stuck in the ground, staring off into the distance. Silent and pensive. Laireno couldn’t take his eyes off him, a small, but a very strong intrusive thought not leaving his head, a question he was dying to ask. He paced back and forth, tugging at the hem of his clothes, gathering his courage. Finally, he couldn’t hold it any longer and strode determinedly over to his mentor. Eönwë immediately turned his head to the elf, shifting all his attention from his thoughts to his young apprentice. Laireno lost a half of his former confidence, but didn’t give up.

“Sir Eönwë, do you-” He lowered his gaze, unable to hold eye contact with the Maia. “Are you-”

“Don’t be afraid, I don’t peck, I don’t bite.” The herald said softly, encouraging the elf to continue.

Laireno took a deep breath.

“Are you injured?” He blurted out, his eyes still locked on the grass. “I saw a bandage on your arm, and I thought- I was worried-”

His fuse faded and he fell silent, waiting for an answer. Eönwë did not speak a word as well. Laireno raised his head and met his mentor’s detached, almost defensive gaze. He hadn’t expected such a question. Maybe didn’t even want it. Laireno regretted asking it.

“I- Yes.” Eönwë said slowly. “Yes, you could say that.”

He straightened, and Laireno had to raise his head higher.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Eönwë said a little softer.

He jerked his sword out of the ground, stepped aside and leaned his back on a tree, wincing a little as the bark scratched the tender skin between his wings. That don’t make Laireno stop worrying, not even a little, the exact opposite had happened.

He ran up to his mentor with an almost teary look.

“I’m sorry, please, I didn’t want to disturb you, I didn’t mean- I just- Y-you might be in pain, and i’m stressing you with this training, I don’t want you to feel bad-“ Laireno stuttered. “I just- I wanted to help, but you probably don’t need help, you’re a Maia, you can heal yourself, and-“

“Hush, owlet.” Laireno stopped talking and stared up at Eönwë with his big star-like eyes. “It’s alright. You haven’t hurt me nor stressed me out in any way. On the contrary, I appreciate you care so much.”

Laireno sighed.

“But… You can cure it, right?” He asked hopefully.

“It’s-“ Eönwë turned away. “It’s not a wound I can heal.”

Realising he had said more than he should, he added immediately.

“Though it will heal soon, don’t worry.”

“Please,” Laireno pleaded and got down on one knee, taking Eönwë‘s hand in his. “Please, let me help you.”

“Laireno, I beg you, get up.” the herald whispered in a faltering voice, looking a little shocked.

The elf shook his head desperately. Unfortnately for his mentor, he was stubborn and determined.

“I know how to do it, I learnt so I could do it at war…” Laireno stopped and squeezes Eönwë‘s hand. “I want to heal you.”

The Maia knelt with a heavy sigh, to look his apprentice in the eyes.

“Laireno, sweet Laireno” Eönwë‘s voice was gentle and sad. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to.”

Eönwë sighed and relented. He was unable to refuse, unable to look in those shining eyes he couldn’t bear to see unhappy.

“Fine.”

He released his hand from the grip of Laireno’s warm palms carefully and rolled his sleeve up reluctantly. The elda sat at his mentor’s side immediately and touched the bandage with trembling fingers. He was visibly nervous.

Eönwë was sitting with his head lowered as the young elf untied his bandage. Layer by layer, there were not many. Noe Laireno could see four red stripes, very contrasting on the Maria’s unearthly pale skin. Today’s sword practise had disturbed the scratches that had barely closed up.

Laireno’s gaze shifted involuntarily to his mentor’s hands. His nails were cut unusually short. Laireno didn’t ask anything, aware of Eönwë‘s unwillingness to talk, but he couldn’t keep himself from stroking the skin an inch above the top cut. Eönwë frowned, his head hanging even lower.

The elda cupped the herald’s arm with his palms, feeling how tense the muscles under his hands are.

“Relax, please.” Laireno said with a look of a serious healer.

Eönwë took a glance at his apprentice. It was very obvious the elf was taking this extremely seriously. His lips were pressed in a thin line, his blond eyebrows drawn together, his eyes focused on the wound in front of him. It was…endearing.

Eönwë turned away again, relaxing as much as he could.

Laireno took a deep breath, closed his eyes and started humming something slow. The scratches began to heal. Eönwë felt a slight tingle in his skin, but didn’t move and even held his breath.

Soon the humming stopped, and the warmth of Laireno’s hands left Eönwë‘s shoulder. There were just thin whitish lines where the cuts had been.

“That’s it.” Laireno said quietly, folding his hands on his laps like a good student.

“Who taught you that?”

“Estë’s Maia, Sir. She said that if i want to be a knight, I should be able to heal as good as I fight, because…” he begun to tug on his shirt again. “Because, a knight must help those he care about, know how to save the, and-“

The elf fell silent again, unable to fight his embarrassment. hen he looked at Eönwë pleadingly and whispered “Please, don’t do it again.”

Eönwë smiled his wrong smile again.

“I won’t.”

He took Laireno’s hands in his.

“Thank you, owlet.”

[nervmaup]

I hate waiting for paint to dry. Propably that's why most of my paintings ends up as a pathetic mess but this one looks nice.

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

Alma still wasn't sure he bought it. There was too much information missing and the android's unwillingness, or inability to give that information was concerning. He reached out to grab the android's arm, trying to stop it.

However, as soon as his fingers wrapped firmly around the android's arm, he heard Arda's voice from behind him.

"Alma! I see you met my new android friend. He came in for repairs so I could practice my medical expertise on androids more. I'm afraid some of his damage was too extensive for me to heal, but I did what I could. He is just on his way out to return to his home," Arda smiled wide at Alma, hoping to fool her brother into not asking any more questions.

She hated lying. But technically nothing she'd said was entirely untrue. Maybe stretching the truth a bit, and omitting some other truths... but it wasn't outright lying... right?

Alma frowned at her, and for a moment she was worried he wouldn't buy it. But then he released the android, giving it a suspicious once over before frowning and looking back to Arda. "It's communications programming might be damaged, but it will have to go to a software engineer to get that fixed. All you can repair is hardware."

Arda felt relieved and smiled, nodding at Alma. "Yes, I recommended a software engineer for that and a few other problems. He'll have to go to them to finish with repairs. Like I said, I did what I could. Now he must be on his way. Goodbye, sir!" Arda waved at Saul, silently urging him to leave before Alma asked any more questions.

It seems he would have to play up his malfunctions. He nodded once again, repeating the same line. Repairs.

Perhaps if they thought he was stuck on a sort of loop, they would leave him be.

Following his same line of thinking, he headed once again towards where he had been heading, as if it was an automatic action.

[ardasito]

Emi rocking her new outfit!

[vinyatar]

elvrassen - white-hot star

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

@silverlyrawolf asked:

👀Favorite thing about the muse’s appearance?

For Alma, I really can't choose because he is like, my ideal. I wish I looked like him akashakabdmska. I love his blond hair and his pretty eyes and his mouth and his cheekbones and his nose and his build and just... Everything. I know that's not fair but my favorite feature of his is really just his everything.

For Errol, it's his lips. He has very kissable lips. His hair and eyes are nice too. And that smile, oomph.

For Arda, I love her hair, especially the two locks that are longer than the rest on either side of her head, framing her face. But I think her tiny frame beats that. She's just so short and petite and cute.