#rawen

[high-school-loser]

[anastaciappk]

God, I didn’t think that I would have such a jump, simply from the fact that I changed the materials for work.

1 - These are the first works that were done in gouache.

2 - And these are the works in watercolors with the addition of gouache, which I did today.

Raven is my favorite bird. When I lived in Kamchatka, my mother and I picked up and raised a fledgling crow. Now he is in good and reliable hands, and my mother and I have moved to another place ✨✨✨

Aaaaah, I'm so glad I can put this up for sale in the store ^v^ ✨✨✨

[dame-de-pique]

Charles Peet Dawes - Off Motuwera. Sunset from Rawene Beach, 1900-1919

[asyuta-luta]

Pandora

Mine OC draconequus Pandora)

Parts: deer🦌horns, head and neck - flamingo🦩,

Body - panther, paws (arms😅) - rawen, left wing 🪽 - swan, right wing - bat 🦇, tail - scorpion 🦂

Пандора.

Драконикус, вид дискорда)

Части: оленьи рога, голова и шея фламинго, тело - фламинго, руки - ворон, левое крыло - лебедь, правое - летучая мышь, хвост - скорпион.

[tanoraqui]

☔for the fic ask game!

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

There is in my heart a canon divergence fic, maybe proper narrative maybe just bullet points, which I have functionally written out as much as I ever will below this cut, in which:

Shortly before the Fall of Númenor and more importantly the Changing of the World, Finrod has a Prophecy of what's coming

He tells Celechwes, who says, "Oh, I...am not okay with it. I didn't plan to go back, but if I can't? If the road truly, utterly only goes one way? That's- that's not okay. I can't, I won't live like that."

So Celechwes goes and talks to some people (quietly, unofficially), who talk to some other people (quietly, unofficially)...

She ends up leading a small fleet that sets out from a southern port just a few days before the Númenoreans are expected to land in the north (fully aiming to avoid the Men). it's about half veterans of Beleriand who have never felt like they fit in on Aman (45% Fëanorians but many close followers of Fingon and more non-Noldor), a quarter elves from other places who don't want to be cut off forever from what was once home, and a quarter Aman-born elves who've grown up on stories of mortal lands and who feel a little restless in the Land of Bliss.

(Finrod joins at the last moment. Amarië found him sitting on a balcony overlooking Valmar and sadly playing the song he once played as the Beorlings woke to see their first shining elf-lord, and she said, "Findaráto Ingoldo, Finrod Felagund Adanil, I will not willingly part from you again - but nor do I want to arrive in the lands across the sea only for war a second time, too late to see all their storied beauty. Also, you know Mingoneth* convinced Veryawendë* to join the fleet, right? Can you imagine how much trouble they'll get into with only Celechwes for supervision?" And he looked up, and saw that she'd packed both their long-distance travel bags.) *OCs, see: "Of the Golden Horde"

(By then, Rawen Ectheliel, once Lieutenant Right Hand of Himring, had already apologized to her wife - who thought they were done with this sort of thing - and followed her lady aboard. She IS done with this sort of thing (ie, rebellion; the House of Fëanor...as it became). But she lost Himring; she couldn't abide herself if she let ill fate befall Celechwes as well.)

The thing about being on at sea when the world abruptly turns from flat into a globe, sailing from a continent that is no longer on said globe, is that you get EXTREMELY turned around and lost. And, frankly, split up as a fleet.

[Cue: several-decades-long montage of several hundred elves - about half hardened (relaxed, but still hardened) war veterans, a quarter friendly nature people just trying to get home, and a quarter kids (in the eyes of all the rest) who have never met a real mortal before - scattered throughout the new southern hemisphere in ones and twos and a few coherent shiploads, trying to find each other and - for most - make their way north toward the lands and people that they know best.]

(If they happen to arrive in time to help beat the ever-loving shit out of Sauron, that's not, like, a drawback for anyone.)

Adventures are had! Hardened war veterans process trauma and old grudges (and sometimes get new ones). People re-find old homes and settle down once more, or realize that either home or they have changed and continue onward with their new companions. Kids grow up.

After a number of sidequests and other delays - flooding rivers, saving an innocent forest from an encroaching swarm of giant spiders, saving a small country from a neighboring evil king influenced by fell whispers from the depths below his castle... It occurs to some of them that all these delays might not be coincidence. They haven't received any official penalties from the Valar for their, er, polite but overt defiance of if not the letter than certainly the spirit of several laws, but...

"I think we are being made Agents of Good," Amarië said thoughtfully. "I think the price of being here is that we must lend a hand where it is needed, where the Great Ones fear to tread for their touch is not...'delicate'...at the best of times."

Celechwes did not like being used without her permission. But, fallen Beleriand never forgotten, she couldn't fault Amarië's analysis.

"I think we should try leaning into it," Finrod suggested. "They'll see that we're here in good faith, and no doubt speed our journey to where our hearts most yearn to go."

(The nearby stream blooped encouragingly, because Ulmo had been explicitly forbidden from giving explicit messages again.)

A few nights later, a local Mannish hunter approached their camp. Emphasis, perhaps, on Man-ish. Her eyes were the blue of a northern wolf-dog. She asked for help scouring the nearby mountains of a dark cult.

[cue: several more decades of montaged adventures. the local folk legends will be rich for generations]

They do arrive in the north just in time to help kick Sauron's fucking ass. Though not early enough to avert the tragedy of the Battle of Dagorlad, they learn later. But before the final, would-be pyrrhic victory; when the soldiers of the Last Alliance are marching into Mordor proper.

Galadriel is the first to know - she's aiding in a healing tent on the foul northern border, ready to ride in a second wave or to hold firm any retreat, when a mind touches her which she hadn't expected to feel again ere either the remaking of the world or her own death and rebirth (for she still had no intention of Sailing.)

Alatariel! her eldest brother calls. How goes the day? I've missed you, of course! Also, do you have a recommendation for where best to land 500 assorted elves, men and cavalry mounts coming up from the south, that we may swiftly come to whatever aid you all need?

A day later, a small host stood at the crest of the path past retaken Minas Ithil, looking out over the shadowed plains of Mordor. All before them was bloodied and embattled: Men fought Men, Elves fought Orcs, eagles and other goodly birds clashed in midair with giant bats and scrawny but deadly petty firedrakes. The very earth groaned in pain beneath the enemy's chains. And far in the distance, near the foot of a fire-spitting mountain, two star-studded banners - one white on black above a white tree, one silver stars on a blue field - approached a red eye on black.

At the head of the bannerless Host of the Returned, Rawen - generally elected battle-leader - raised her blade. Celechwes put a hand on her arm. "Do not call 'Súlaearil.' It's embarrassing. Don't do it." "My lady," Rawen protested, with her particular intonation that made it clear she was saying 'your majesty.' "No," Celechwes said firmly. "'Finwë and the North'?" suggested the elf on Rawen's other side, once third in command of Fingon's Dragon-frighters. "Can't go wrong with that," agreed Finrod, a little further down the line. Rawen sighed. Her blade, which had sagged a little, she raised straight again, then pointed forward with that battle-cry that had long united the great Siege-line of the Noldor: "Finwë and the North!"

"FINWË AND THE NORTH!" roared the Host of the Returned - all hardened veterans by now, though less brittle in it than some had begun. The fiery-faithful of Himring and the valorous of Barad Eithel, the quick of Ossiriand and the cunning of Nargothrond and the devoted of Doriath, the bold and restless of Aman and those who loved Middle Earth so dearly that they could do naught but defend it; slayers of orcs and spiders and feller beasts, saviors of lands besieged and heroes of legend, swept down from the heights to descend upon Sauron's unsuspecting eastern flank.

Ahead of them all streaked a single swift rider, blond hair streaming in the wind of her passage. Her mount was a prong-horned antelope from the plains far to the south, faster than any cavalry horse (and not usually suited to riding, but blue-eyed Alatar had whispered it some encouragement before they'd parted).

They leapt the first line of the enemy, hastily reassembling itself to meet this unexpected new foe. They jerked and dodged and ducked through the others, as behind them the battle lines slammed together. Jagged orcish blades came at her, and the sharp iron of men enraptured or enslaved to the dark, but mostly in passing - they didn't have time for a single rider driving through with no weapons of her own, her only goal the bright silver-on-blue star in the distance.

Eventually a pair of clever firedrakes managed to herd them up one of the low, ragged cliffs that spurted up here and there on the barren land. Celechwes rolled off her antelope to avoid a stream of fire and ran the other way without hesitation - the quick, clever creature would get to safety far more ably with no heavy elf on its back. Without, slowing, she sprinted off the edge of the cliff.

She'd planned to tuck and roll to the bottom, then pick herself up and keep running. The land ahead was clear for a few miles, save for the pits. Instead, great, sharp talons grasped her gently, and (non-specifically) familiar wings beat around her, with a screech that echoed in her bones.

She laughed as one Great Eagle dropped her carefully toward another. With a sailor's grace she landed with both feet on its broad, shifting back, and returned a joyous screech of challenge into the racing wind.

Below and ahead (though less far with every wingbeat), Ereinion Gil-galad looked up. Eagles had been screaming for battle all day, all month, but for a moment he could've sworn -

Celechwes's eagle dove to avoid a vampire. She dropped her knees and gripped its feathers tightly, and thanked the stars that she wasn't trying to do this while keeping someone from bleeding out from the wrist.

As they dove toward the volcano and the forces advancing against one another there, she eagle-shrieked again, in greeting this time, and shouted, "Erein, hold your position! Re-enforcements are coming!"

Even - nay, especially the High King of the Noldor in Middle Earth knew better than to question the finest royal courier in Beleriand, much less his mother the queen. "Hold!" Gil-galad bellowed over the clash of blades.

Celechwes circled back up, looking back across the field. But Sauron, too, had heard her message, and knew a victory when it was about to slip from his grasp. Mighty and fell, he strode forward toward the banners of Gil-galad and Elendil, and the kings of Elves and Men.

In swift, vicious, terrible combat they were soon joined, Sauron with his dark, burning blade and Gil-galad with bright Aeglos and Elendil with shining Narsil. Likely, at best, all would have been slain -

But Celechwes hadn't been the only one of her host riding hard across the dark plains, dallying with no enemy save the greatest foe. She was only (as ever) the fastest.

"HEY, GORTHAUR!" yelled Finrod Felagund, with a particular intonation that made it clear he was saying, Hey, motherfucker! "I CALL REMATCH!"

And this time, as he raised his voice in a Song of trust unbroken and faith fulfilled, of Sea and sand and second chances, Amarië of the Vanyar Sang with him, their souls entwined, she who had learned to Sing from Maiar on the slope of Ezollohar where stood the Trees; and with them also Sang their daughter Veryawendë Tinúviel, named by prophecy from both parents, fated to be a bright melody in darkness and a great change in the world, and this was not her time but still the Great Music swirled thick around her; and you bet your ass Galadriel had also ridden down from the north to join as fast as she was able -

The last time Galadriel and Amarië joined their voices in powerful harmony had been the final duel between Morgoth and Finarfin, Anairë, and the last of the Host of the Noldor. With Sauron's power reflected and redoubled unto himself through his terrible Ring, this duel was no less hard-won, but it was very definitively won. They even prevented him from erupting the volcano as a final spiteful blow.

"We should destroy the Ring," Gil-galad said at the end, exhausted, bloody, and leaning on Elrond for support. Isildur eyed it - shining golden on Sauron's cut-off black hand - with battle-fire lingering in his grey eyes. "I would rather claim it as weregild, for Anarion - " "For the love of - " said Celechwes, dismounted now that the worst of the battle was over (though there was a great deal of mopping-up to do, of orcs, corrupted men and etc.) "Is this still the Noldorin influence?" she demanded, of nobody in particular. "Or is it a new Edainic thing? No, I suppose Thingol fell to it in the end, too - is it being inland? Do you not spend enough time near the sea, and that's why you're constantly obsessed with cursed jewelry? Here, I'll do it - don't go anywhere, Erein; I'll be right back."

She shucked off her leather hauberk to use as a glove, picked up Sauron's still coal-hot black hand, and sprinted up the volcano slope before anyone else could say a word.

"...I'm really sorry," Elendil said into the relative quiet that followed, "I think I know who you are, my lord - " he bowed toward Finrod, as best he could while leaning bloody and exhausted on Isildur - "and Lady Galadriel, I'm so glad you caught up with us. But I'm not sure about any of these other ladies who have come to our rescue? Including that one?" He jerked his head toward the bright-haired figure already halfway up Oroduin's rocky slope, with the air of a man wondering if he should call for soldiers to chase after her.

"That's my mother," said Gil-galad.

"Ah," said Elendil and Isildur, with perfect understanding. They, too, had mothers.

The Forge of Sauron rumbled ominously, shuddered and spat out first sparks, then sprays of lava. Celechwes, briefly out of sight in the cavern near the top, sprinted back down ahead of the molten rock, empty handed.

"Everyone move!" she shouted. "Should've evacuated first! Go, go, go!"

And then everyone lived happily after - though a lot of them probably did Sail not long thereafter, including most of the Host of the Returned - including the Finrod, Amarië, and Veryawendë, though not bold-hearted Mingoneth, and Celechwes, and Gil-galad. Because they'd accomplished a Great Task and Aman is, actually, objectively more pleasant for Elves than most mortal lands (and Beleriand was still gone). The spiritual weather is just so much better. Everyone stuck around to see Elrond and Celebrian get married, though, and to meet their kids and see Gondor and the Greenwood both regain their feet.

With no Gil-galad to come and sort out several conflicting emotions about his parents, Fingon does stay in Mandos, keeping Maedhros company for longer...but not too much longer. There weren't many casualties among the Host of the Returned, but Rawen Ectheliel was among them (her last thought is that her wife is going to be really, truly, perhaps irrevocably disappointed). She manages to find them before she leaves, the memory of Thangorodrim which Maedhros has made to hang from in his self-pity, self-loathing and twisted self-aggrandizement, where Fingon sits by his feet out of loyalty, devotion, stubbornness, pride and fear; and she gives their behavior such a scathing review that Fingon actually pulls his shit together a few years later and tentatively leaves, and Maedhros pulls one of his hands out of the chains.

[loveydovey-leviathan]

Below is a list of events happening in New Zealand in support of Palestine. All events can be found on the official PSNA website (Palestine Solidarity Network Aotearoa).

North Island Rawene Saturday 4 May 10:00 am Meet outside No 1 Gallery Opononi – Gathering for Palestine Sunday May 4 1:30 pm Outside the Four Square, Opononi Kerikeri, Bay of Islands - Rally Rally on the First Saturday of the month from now on Saturday 4 May 9:00 am Kerikeri roundabout, State highway 10 Whangarei – Rally Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Whangārei Town Basin in front of Hundertwasser Building  Auckland – Mystery Picket Friday 3 May 12:00 mid-day Email Auckland@PSNA.nz  for more details Auckland – Banners around Tamaki Makaurau Saturday 4 May 10:00 am Gather on Carrington Road, Point Chevalier, south of the overbridge over State highway 16. Text Steve on 021 256 511 For further details Auckland – Ride for Palestine (hosted by Progressive Cyclist Movement) Sunday 5 May 11:30 am Te Komititanga – Britomart Square Returning in time for the 2:00 pm Rally Auckland – Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm Te Komititanga – Britomart Square Tauranga – Rally – World Press freedom Day Friday 3 May 1:00 am Outside NZME office, 405 Cameron Rd, Tauranga Hamilton - Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm Flynn Park, Hamilton Rotorua – Flags for Todd McClay Thursday 2 May 4:00 pm National MP Todd McClays Office - 1301 Amohau St, Rotorua Napier - Rally Saturday 4 May 11:30 am Marine Parade Soundshell Roundabout Hastings - Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm Hastings Town Clock – Hastings CBD Palmerston North - Rally Sunday 5 May 2:00 pm The Square, Palmerston North New Plymouth – Flags on the Bridge Friday 3 May 4:30 pm Paynters Ave Bridge, New Plymouth New Plymouth – Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm The Landing, 1 Ariki Street, New Plymouth Whanganui - Rally Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Riverside Market, Whanganui Carterton Every Tuesday 12:00 midday Memorial Square. Martinborough – Gathering for Palestine Every Wednesday 11:00 am The square at the top of Kitchener St, Martinborough Masterton Every Saturday 9:30 am Town Hall Lawn Featherston Every Saturday 11:00 am The Squircle (opposite the op shop). Wellington No Rally this weekend

South Island Nelson – Rally Saturday 4 May Check out the Te Tau Ihu Palestine Solidarity Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/TeTIPalestine/ Blenheim Saturday 4 May 11:00 am Blenheim Railway Station Christchurch – Rally Saturday 4 May 1:00 pm Bridge of Remembrance, Cashel Street Timaru – Painting for Palestine Sunday 5 May 10:00 – 3:00 pm The Art Hangout – Woolcombe Street, Timaru Dunedin - Rally Saturday 4 May 2:00 pm Otago Museum Reserve to the Octagon, Dunedin Queenstown - Rally Sunday May 5 1:00 pm Earnslaw Park, Queenstown Invercargill - Rally Friday 3 May 5:30 pm Wachner place Invercargill

[doriangray1789]

Hayat, bazen planladığımız gibi gitmiyor. Önemli olan böyle anlarda da bir çıkış yolunu bulmak sanırım. Çünkü sevdiklerinizin etrafınızda olduğu sıradan ve sıkıcı bir günün değerini bile böyle anlarda fark ediyorsunuz. Ritüelimize Dönersek Eğer; “Geçmiş bir mezarlıktır, kimileri geri gelmeyecek insanlar bırakmıştır geçmişinde, kimileri ise geri gelmeyecek duygular. Zaman dursa da bazen, hayat yine de devam ediyor.” - Jolier Rawen - Ben ve Kendim AB firmasının yaptığı araştırma anketine göre, insanların geceleri daha içsel konularda, daha sorgulayıcı olduğu ortaya çıkmıştır. İnsanları geceleri daha içsel olmaya yönelten şey sizce nedir? *Kitap Tavsiyesi*: İskambil Kağıtlarının Esrarı, yazarı: Jostein Gaarder.

[family2022]

10.02. Von Rawene aus setzen wir heute über mit Fähre nach Kohukohu. In der Zeit der Kauriwirtschaft war Kohukohu ein lebendiges Städtchen. Heute ist es ein wenig verlassen. Aber hübsche alte Gebäude sind zu sehen und einen Spaziergang wert!!! Hier ticken die Uhren ein wenig langsamer 😎

[cheyannehawco17]

I'm tired and in a state of despair. I don't sleep and I post all day and the campaign has no donations. Help me reach a quarter of the goal. We need money so we can live. You are our hope. The rest of us need $815 to reach 9k. gofund.me/6a6be4ab

Please donate to Rawen so that way he and his family can evacuate to safety.

[asisterwithnomercy]

i tink i waint ti heba soider on day…..it soundes run to be aspidddder….du yu wont to bey a spidery witv me Bandy?it’d be qweat funny!!give me me wanen!marc luve rawen?ramen!wamen!!

gartu gamdonin

You want to have a spider for a pet? We can get you one of those. Maybe a big one, like a tarantula. I don't really want to get bitten by it, though. I'll make you some fancy ramen if you come out of the wall someday.

[high-school-loser]

[postboxes-yura15cbx]

Birkenhead postboxes

36-52 Rawene Road, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMG+C3V Auckland

-36.8163920, 174.7251860

36-52 Rawene Road, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMG+946 Auckland

-36.8165810, 174.7252780

26-32 Rawene Road, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMG+P5V Auckland

-36.8156310, 174.7254330

148 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMJ+W4X Auckland

-36.8151360, 174.7303720

Highbury House 110 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMJ+CM3 Auckland

-36.8164920, 174.7316860

94 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PMJ+3WW Auckland

-36.8172610, 174.7323360

44-60 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PJM+CV2 Auckland

-36.8189860, 174.7346530

28 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PJP+3JX Auckland

-36.8197530, 174.7366030

73-45 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead, Auckland 0626

5PJP+878 Auckland

-36.8192250, 174.7356940

[enletrecer]

Inevitável #KentaKim - Explosão, morte e o inesperado (on Wattpad)

Bom dia, #Leitores de #Inevitável #KentaKim - Hoje o clima está quente na nossa história. Aemand Giong, patrão de Winner e Rawen, pai de Babe se encontraram. E parece que as coisas não são como pensamos...

Explosão, morte e o inesperado #wattpad

 https://www.wattpad.com/1433588754-inevit%C3%A1vel-kentakim-explos%C3%A3o-morte-e-o-inesperado?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=lisselvadorameira O encontro de um guia e um predestinado. O encontro dos quase inimigos Kim e Kenta acontece de forma nada convencional. Universo Pit Babe Multiverso #KimKenta #NorthSonic #AllanJeff

[defrancescoart1]

🪴 When you walk through my garden you find many artworks, this one fits nicely in there. I call it "Broken Love", it is the contemporary installation created with rawen potteries and hungarian bricks. So simple, so perfect... 🪴

Dimensions: 106x108x63 cm. Edition of 1.

#brokenlove #contemporaryart #outdoorart #gardendecor #gardendesign #frenchartist #artinstallation #sculpture #artcollective #homegallery #sculpturepark #defrancescoart #denisdefrancesco

©️2020 Denis Defrancesco

[tanoraqui]

Hello! If you are still babysitting the printer or in the mood to answer questions about your OCs, then would you please tell me more about coolest person ever Rawen? Uh, let me think of some questions, answer any of these or just if you have something else you want to share about her. . . Can she cook? Favorite color? Tell me about a time she saved Maedhros’ life? What does she think of Elrond when she meets him in Aman?

I am not, thank god. But I still love to talk.

I don't know if Rawen can cook... She likes to fish, and can do some simple but fantastic things with fresh-caught fish and a handful of herbs over a campfire.

Her favorite color is maroon. This is convenient in the Second and Third Age, post-re-embodiment, when she wants to wear just enough red to visually communicate "I'm not a Fëanorian(TM) anymore, but I'm not not either."

She was the one who finally pulled Maedhros back from the battlefield in Dagor Bragollach, when he'd been holding the gates all but single-handedly for seven days and seven nights, and when the Enemy fell back, stalking around looking for more. He wasn't badly wounded; she already was, in fact; she had to pick her way through corpses and cinders while limping on a cut hamstring and coughing from dragonsmoke. But nobody else quite dared confront their lord in those terrible weeks, however much they feared he would collapse from exhaustion and/or burn himself to ashes from the inside out like his father.

(She never fully healed from those wounds, perhaps because she didn't rest them. She died in the Nirnaeth 18 years later.)

I've mostly thought about Rawen after her re-embodiment, when she basically appoints herself whip of the regrowing Fëanorian faction (mostly re-embodied elves like her who aren't as single-minded about this as they used to be but this is still where some combination of loyalties and ideals lie, younger elves with a thirst for rebellion). Rawen ideally wants a Person to follow, but lacking a sufficient Person she'll take up a Cause; her Cause now is Peace and Cooperation in Tirion (and Everywhere Else if Possible). Arafinwë is good for this - it's his cause, too - so, while even after the War of Wrath he's kinda placid as a king for her taste, she's happy to work with him and nominally serve him.

4,500~ years later, Rawen is comfortably accustomed to being a key political player in her own right, rather than as Maedhros's right hand. She and Fingolfin both, separately, go out for drinks with Arafinwë periodically and complain about the other. (Arafinwë thinks this is funny, and regards it as one of his key kingship duties for maintaining peace and cooperation among the Noldor. He's right.) The Fëanorian faction, as they're still called, has grown and changed far beyond what it used to be, but at its heart are still an assortment of former kinslayers, most of whom served at Himring. 500 years of constant exposure to focussed white flame can make a permanent impression on a fëa.

Like many, in the late Third Age when it's commonly rumored in Aman that most people still likely to Sail will be doing so as soon as this last Sauron issue is wrapped up, Rawen's attitude toward Elrond is eager curiosity with a readied but pending-judgement communist!Bugs Bunny "our child/lord" meme. Imagine you wake up after 1500-odd years being dead and the handful of friends/former employees who survived everything, or at least survived longer than you are like, "Yeah, so, we did...kill people...a bunch more people...we helped adopt some kids, though! They turned out great!" And then everyone else who Sails or re-embodies for the next 4500-odd years confirms that. If Elrond lives up to his reputation, Rawen is totally ready to add him to her short list of people for whom she'd throw her/the Fëanorian faction's political weight behind should they ever ask, for the sake of what could have been if only they'd been Good at the same time they were Great.

(The short list is, in rough order: Nerdanel, Celebrimbor, Celechwes, Fingon.)

Then, just a few years before Sauron's fall, Findis makes her own famous Oath (CFtN Ch.15), holding her own fëa for ransom of the release of Fëanor and all his sons from Mandos; and Manwë declares that the Eldar will decide her and their fate the Eldar overall decide, yes, we'll let them come back; and then when Elrond arrives, he brings Maglor...

Rawen is dealing with political fallout, and trying to anticipate the next political fallout, and trying to arrange the circumstances of the next political fallout, and trying to figure out how she feels about this - how she should feel about this, how she does feel about this...

Righteous Disappointment, is what she more or less concludes that she feels. That she will feel, when she meets Maedhros again. How could he. How could he. She'd believed in him...

No, Righteous Disappointment is how she wishes she could feel, but she's too honest with herself - she probably would've counseled the attack on Doriath, as a best hope (the Enemy would've done it if they hadn't!). She doesn't think she would've counseled the attack on Sirion, but she's talked with people who were there, what those late days were like with darkness spreading and bitter, angry desperation in every breath of air and sip of water. She remembers much the same from the not-days after the Darkening. She knows she wouldn't have turned away at Sirion, much less turned her coat.

She adopts Elrond almost offhand. There's a lot going on. Maglor is...ill, basically, half-mad from isolation and guilt. He hadn't been her lord, but she'd respected him for the earnest effort he put into their cause, so even if she's not sure how much she wants to still be affiliated with the literal House of Fëanor, rather than a consciously idealized concept of the House of Fëanor, she's glad to see him and does what she can to help him heal. Mostly he seems to heal by hanging around Eärendil, seemingly without intent to claim the Silmaril, which is... (ignites a hope in Rawen's chest which she hadn't realized it hurt to be without).

Rawen is pretty confident that her conflicted feelings, plus the distance of time, shake out to sympathetic neutrality re: the literal House of Fëanor. Well, re: Maedhros, and about half the others. She's more Unimpressed with Fëanor himself, and Celegorm and Curufin she'd frankly throw off a cliff for their little spectacle at Nargothrond. If Nargothrond had joined the Union of Maedhros in force, if Doriath had joined the Union in force...

What actually happens, when she meets Maedhros again, is that she bursts into tears and apologizes for losing Himring, which he'd left in her charge when he rode to what became the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Funnily enough, this is roughly the same emotional sequence of events that happened in the various reunions of Fëanor's sons with their father.

After that initial burst of emotion, she does calm down, and... Okay, listen. She was going to rationally re-evaluate him. She does rationally re-evaluate him. She still mourns what the Noldor could've been when they were fierce and fire-led...but they are fierce and fire-led still, just tempered with long ages of peace rather than swift and savage intent. And Maedhros re-embodied is also tempered with long ages of peace and thought, the wisdom of utmost regret and slow, slow, still-incomplete self-forgiveness...

So, y'know, a few centuries later...when all the Oath-takers including Fëanor himself have returned and proven themselves capable of peacefully sharing a continent - and sometimes even family reunions! - with Gil-Estel...and nothing more dramatic has happened than the assembled line of Curufinwës blowing up the Alchemists' Quarter... Rawen teams up with Satarissë Finrodiel, Celechwes and Arafinwë himself to get Maedhros elected High King of the Noldor. The Fëanorians are back, baby!

(Maedhros was not consulted. To be fair, Arafinwë literally never is, either. For instance, his blissful vacation only lasts one term - but the point is made. Peace, cooperation and re-unification in Tirion, and maybe even everywhere else!)

[valkyries-things]

MABEL MANGAKĀHIA // NURSE

“She was a New Zealand district nurse who provided health support to Maori communities across the North Island. She was the most eminent and successful Maori nurse of her day. She became one of the first Maori women to complete a postgraduate nursing studies course. In 1924, she became assistant district health nurse in Rawene. She was one of the few qualified Maori nurses serving Maori communities. Much of her work involved travel to and from Maori communities.”