#tinnudir

[dunadaan]

Tinnudir, Evendim - The Lord of the Rings Online

       Tinnudir (Sindarin for Dusk-watch) is a settlement located within the area of Parth Aduial.

       At a well protected island in eastern Lake Evendim, this keep once used to be the estate of the royal family of Annuminas. At the south-eastern part of the island Calenglad and a party of Dúnedain Rangers have established an encampment, keeping watch over the region, sheltered by no more than ruined walls of the ancient buildings.

[tolkien-obsessed]

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[rangers-arecool]

Lake Nenuial (Sindarin for Lake of Twilight) during the rising sun, Evendim

Upon the banks of which both the City of Annúminas and Tinnudir Keep were built. Screenshot taken by Lou in LOTRO

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

Arathorn simply smiled, shaking his head in amusement. “Has anyone told you that your hopeless sometimes, Bel?” His words were filled with playfulness as he looked up at the taller elf. “99.9% of a success I think. The 1% being that you unintentionally trapped us.”

“a little close”

/ Arathorn | last one lol

Send “a little close” for our muses to get stuck in a small space together

“Well,” This was his fault. He had pulled Arathorn into the closet for a moment alone, but in their haste, he had knocked over the shelves outside the door, preventing it from opening even with elven strength. “That’s… whoops. At least I am trapped with you.”

[a-lonely-dunedain]

Something I've been wondering about the Dunedain... do you think they have hidden villages in the wild, or are they just fully nomadic? Are there any Ranger villages or camps in LOTRO?

oh! in lotro they absolutely do! the primary one is Tornhad in the Trollshaws, but there's also Esteldin and Tinnudir :D

Esteldin is a bit of an odd one, because there aren't any Ranger families or children living there currently, and some quests state that the Dunedain have only recently begun to gather there to fight against the growing threat of Angmar, but another NPC will mention that she and Lorniel (another important Ranger NPC) both grew up in Esteldin together.

weird contradiction right? well my theory for it is that Esteldin used to be a settlement more like Tornhad, a refuge for Rangers to raise their families, but it was mostly (if not altogether) abandoned around the same time Golodir led his company into Angmar. because around that time it was said that "fell creatures had begun to spill forth from that land" so when Golodir's company, probably consisting mostly of Rangers from Esteldin, left to face that threat head on and never returned, there weren't enough Rangers left in the area to defend it. So my guess is that the non-ranger Dunedain mostly ended up gathering in Tornhad after that, as it was further away from Angmar and in a defensible position.

There are characters who are implied to have grown up in/around Tinnudir as well, but I can't help but notice that there are no children there in present day. could be an oversight on the devs part, but also makes me wonder if it was also deemed too unsafe for them and they had to move elsewhere...

ok sorry I got to rambling there, but yes to make a long answer short, there are indeed Ranger settlements! but they're dwindling.

[southfarthing]

Time for a lotro confession: sometimes I go and visit Candaith in the lonelands, even though there's nothing left to do for me. I'll just sit there next to him, basically staring in the fire and listening to the beautiful music. His death and the dream sequence later on hit me really hard and to know that even though he is long dead, he's still sitting near weathertop and watching over the lonelands is comforting and gut wrenching at the same time. Sometimes I'll do the same in Evendim on Tinnudir because something about the music there and the lake makes me want to jump into the screen. The rangers, man, they'll break your heart.

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 HE WILL ALWAYS BE THERE AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, SITTING WITH LEGS OUT BY THE FIRE AND A WARM SMILE ON HIS FACE

[hallothere]

6 for radanir >:)

6. Reverse amnesia (everyone else has no memory/recognition of your character) loosely hugely based on a sarc original

The prisoner could moan and complain all he wanted, but Lothrandir wasn't going to give in. He'd spent too long in Forochel to be surprised by another of his... 'kin'. He still wasn't sure who this man claimed to be, regardless of whether or not that kinship turned out to be true.

He sat and stoked the fire. This was a strange situation, but he was still going to eat. He had some flounder fresh-caught, and spices in his bag. He could eat, and he could think.

This 'Radanir' had been insistent. Familiar. Angry, even, when Lothrandir didn't drop everything and listen to him. When he didn't answer his questions and respond to his insane demands.

No, he'd come back from Gondor alone, except for Techeron, who had stayed at Tinnudir. He'd been alone.

These were troubling times yes, but... This Radanir knew their signals- knew Lothrandir's pet signals he only used when friends came to visit... He'd shaken his head. Fought. Radanir- whoever that really was- was bound hand and foot and propped up against a pine. They were a ways enough from Kauppa-kohta for him to decide what to do without risking the village.

Because there was another possibility that didn't bear thinking about. There had been no days in the Wizard's tower, no semblance of time. He had not surrendered, but he had been... Lothrandir shuddered. He wasn't sure. Saruman never let on what he knew, what the spaces between consciousness had been filled with. Had he talked in his sleep? Been forced to recount locations and numbers and strategy while his mind sat in darkness?

Gandalf had assured him this was not within Saruman's power but...

At least his prisoner had stopped yelling at him.

But after a while, something altogether... unpleasant had started. Lothrandir forced himself not to turn and look. He hadn't expected tears. The Dunedan- Radanir, the stranger- whoever he was, was downright weeping. A pitiful sobbing as ever there was, and for what? Because Lothrandir didn't know him?

He was about to tell the prisoner to stop, to knock it off before he really got irritated, when he wavered. It... it just struck him as wrong. Not unwise. Not against procedure, or without due caution. Wrong. He forced himself to look and immediately wished he hadn't.

"What's wrong now?" He ground the words out less in irritation than necessity. If he didn't growl his voice might break.

Radanir took a huge, shuddering breath. "I'm dead, aren't I?" That startled Lothrandir. What did he mean by that?

"I died on the road south. Or the road north." He laughed. Not a humorous sound. Hysterical. "I didn't expect to.. to ever return home. I suppose I didn't, and this is--" He seemed less able to take those big, sobbing breaths. They came shallower. "Or, else, this is what you wouldn't tell me."

Lothrandir frowned in earnest now. That made about as much sense as anything else he said. Less. He hadn't been willing to tell 'Radanir' a lot of things.

"What are you talking about?" If he was dealing with a lucky madman...

"I've found him. The Wizard." His blood froze as Radanir started to look around. Lothrandir almost joined him. "You wouldn't tell any of us his tricks. His torments. I've run afoul of him, then. That's the only possible explanation."

His veins had turned to ice. Radanir, eyes bright and countenance pale, searched for Saruman in the trees. That... that was wrong. Lothrandir forced his eyes shut. The Wizard's staff was broken. He had no palantir, that had been claimed. His power was diminished. Drained. The Wizard was little more than a Man now, and Lothrandir had bested worse than Men.

"I'm sorry, brother." Lothrandir's head snapped up. It was Radanir, tears flowing once again. "I won't... I won't be able to hold out like you did. I'm sorry."

Something cracked. Lothrandir seemed to be watching through fog. He didn't know Radanir, but he saw that face. Grim. Serious. And then there was Faeron, and the both of them scowling fiercely. And Saeradan. And laughter--

A flash of something that wasn't supposed to be there caught his eye. There was a bush off to the right, a glint of red. And then Lothrandir saw red, knowing not what or who, only that he was going to know. He was going to find out. The red began retreating from the bush, but Lothrandir recognized this foe at least, and pounced.

It came to blows and Lothrandir was clear superior. It came to blades- one blade- but the Angmarrim stood no chance even with a knife. He fell into the snow, and something sparkled. A gem on a chain. It was small but instantly foul to Lothrandir's eyes, long acquainted with Angmarrim, with sorcery.

He took the knife and the gemstone and found a rock. Lothrandir flipped the grip to point the knife hilt down, and rammed the adorned pommel through. The gem, if it ever was one, shattered like glass. Something like a fog cleared.

Lothrandir's head snapped up. And he started running.

[cwilbah]

okay i severely misjudged hunters this class fucks

made another alt on lotro sorry everyone

[rannadylin]

Huh. Dear Numenoreans who built Tinnudir Keep: Why do you put the ionic capitals on the edges of the stairs and not on the columns?

[oldmanwillow]

for the lotro Geoguessr!

I wanna say it's Evendim, maybe looking out to the place where the Ent is on the other shore? (I play in another language, not sure about the name)

In the distance the tower of Tinnudir?

If not then it's probably Gondor bc architecture

[dunadaan]

Oooh does Crea have any hobbies?

She absolutely does, anon!!

Créa actually has quite a few hobbies. Her first really began when she was young, with her father traveling and bringing back pressed flowers from other lands. She herself began to start collecting flora from around where she lived, pressing them in a little journal and writing about where she found them, doing little drawings of them, and trying to figure out their uses, if any. She was quite a little scholar, but admittedly at first she mostly did it because she thought the flowers were beautiful, and picked the prettiest ones, before being fascinated with the natural world around her.

When she left home to become a Ranger, she was suddenly thrust into a new landscape with plants the likes of which she'd never seen. New trees, new flowers, new grasses- her journey was delayed somewhat because she kept stopping to collect leaves and sketch and the like! For a long time, elves and rangers alike would be bombarded with questions from her- what was this? what's its purpose? what's its name? Thankfully, most were patient with her curiosity and even encouraged it, and her journal was packed full of new plants. As time went on, however, she realized it was getting too full, and mixed in with her daily logs describing her day and what she did, and she began to move over some of the extra pickings of dried plants to a new journal- one that was dedicated solely to collecting all the knowledge she could on plants. Over the years it grew exponentially in size as she traveled and discovered new (to her) plants, and what started as a personal passion project began to take on a new meaning as the cumulative knowledge of (almost) all the plants in Eriador, and eventually, in Middle-earth.

In her lifetime during the Fourth Age, her collection is officially published for widespread use, (though I've never come up with a title for it), and it's an invaluable resource for many healers and others alike, as much of the information was lost or previously unknown to many, and one of the last few books ever published with the direct knowledge given by the elves before they all sailed.

Oops I blabbed a lot BUT another important hobby related to above is gardening! She's a very talented gardener and has an incredible green thumb. I like to think she was some sort of farmer in her life before she discovered her dúnedain heritage, and she still decided to take a part of that life with her. She carried the seeds from her home but wasn't sure she'd every do anything with them, being on the move all the time with her new life.

Some time passes, and Créa really struggled to find where she belonged. Evendim was her chosen area to stay, but she was at a serious disadvantage. She was no scholar, and wasn't raised with stories of the Dúnedain, nor their history. She's no archeologist who can help with sherds or artifacts. She can fight, but anyone could wield a blade, and her reading, writing, and speaking in Sindarin was not the best as she struggled to learn. She wanted to contribute in her own way and felt out of place, and like an outsider for a long period of time.

It wasn't until exploring the ruins of Tham Nambarth, overlooking the ruins of Tinnudir that a sudden idea came to her. She had been told these grand estates once used to grow grains for the city- and she realized she could repurpose the grounds for her own garden. One that could support the small gathering of Rangers here, or be used for trade with the Hobbits of Oatbarton. She kept it as secret as she could, wanting to surprise the others, though she enlisted help from friends when she could. It was a lot of work, converting an abandoned area with centuries of weeds and grass to a large garden bed, but she did it, and it's her proudest achievement. It was something unique that directly contributes to the Rangers, and she can keep them well fed with food she grew herself. (I also headcanon that her garden has been destroyed a few times and wrote a long fic about it dfgdsfg)

The building itself stores the dried and pickled foods for winter, ready to transport to the camp below, and the gardens boast of berries, herbs, tubers, squashes, beans of all sorts- really, anything she could get her hands on that would grow in the soil. If you can't find her out on patrol or in the keep, she's usually in the garden, covered in dirt and smelling of earth :)

As far as other hobbies...like I mentioned before, she sketches landscapes and plants to try and accurately reflect the environment she found them in. I think she also paints a little to get the colors right. And for the fun of it, because I like bird watching, I think she enjoys bird watching and identifying too! And it makes sense since the dúnedain can talk to and understand birds so!

She also loves swimming- she spent many summers swimming in the Anduin, and is one of the strongest swimmers in Evendim! Hasn't beat Calenglad yet though. If there's a body of water, she's more than likely going to jump in, like a duck to water.

[queen-scribbles]

I would like to have Words with whoever is responsible for there not being a “taxi” route from Tinnudir to Annuminas. There will be many Words.

They will not be pleasant. :)

[ethuithel]

i genuinely enjoy that the wardens aren't just warriors, but nerds as well. like tinnudir there's a guy who spend his time putting old artworks, potteries, and mosaics back together as best he can. and there's so many others who do similar things. he could probably tell you anything and everything about the artworks still left at the keep and the surrounding ruins. theres also another guy who asks if you can deliver a commissions request to the blacksmiths of thorin's hall to make cutlery moulds from the silverware he managed to find. bro even the fucking spoons are getting saved???? like i just -- ugh. i love them all.

[rangers-arecool]

For: Arwen :: @amarthfaeg Muses: Hal & Aragorn Prompt: Tattoo - when they reach a certain age, a tattoo shows up on their bodies that they have in common

  Hidden from all but the former Ranger who owned the house and his visiting kin, a small child sized ledge could be found tucked away in the corner. It had first been noted when Maechedir brought the property but he had never bothered to sort it out. A fact he had been grateful for, at varying times in the recent years

The Northern Barrow-downs.

  Well. The Barrow-downs in general wasn’t a place that many of the living, both travellers and permanent Bree residents, liked to visit. Some of the more braver folk went there only to get items not found anywhere else but most of the time, they asked the Rangers of the North to help. With barghests, wandering spirits and barrow-weights among other creatures now calling the place home, it wasn’t a surprise that most folk tried to avoid the Barrow-downs if possible.

  For most children who lived in Bree, their curiosity were quickly drowned out by fear and dread as they reached the main entrance to the Northern Barrow-downs. Many returned to the safety of the town, terrified of the unnatural chill in the air, glowing red eyes of the roaming hounds and the ever present low lying mist. Yet for the youngsters who did venture into the terrifying land of danger, barrows and darkness, many were never seen again.

“Maechedir, have you seen Hal? She never appeared in the Prancing Pony today.”

   It was one thing to be asked that question by some of the children as his seven year old granddaughter tended to hide away and be alone. But when one of his kin and more importantly, the Heir to the Northern Dúnedain asked it, the former Ranger gave his full attention. He thought for a few minutes, thinking back to when he had last seen her then frowned. ”Last time I saw her, she was curled up reading in the alcove by the wall. That was about 7 this morning. I haven’t seen her since, which is odd for Hal. Although…” The old Ranger trailed off uncharacteristically, recalling a fact that he had been worried about.

  When Maechedir didn’t finish his sentence, slate grey eyes narrowed with concern- and worry. For that wasn’t a good sign, especially with the storm coming over. “Mae?” A couple of other visiting Rangers, who had also been looking for the young girl, came to stop near them.

  ”There was something wrong, Arathorn. She’s been acting off for the last few days but I thought it was because another child had disappeared. And she hasn’t said anything but I’ve noticed that she’s been rubbing her upper arms a lot, like they were hurting. I think her tattoos have started to appear.”

  All the Rangers present at that precise moment stilled. They knew that the Tinnudir born man wasn’t prone to exaggeration and triads weren’t unknown to their kin. In fact one such triad of soulmates was standing just a few feet away, waiting for Arathorn’s instructions. It was easy to work out where the search would be starting but the difficulty came in actually finding the kid. As the Barrow-downs weren’t the easiest of places to track in and Hal was far too good at hiding, especially when she didn’t want to be found.

  A wordless look was all the group of Wandering Men needed and they quickly vanished to track down the silent seven year old. It was rare for them to have to search for Hal as normally they ended up asking her for help. As the skies overhead darkened with the fast approaching thunderstorm, Arathorn hoped that he and his kin would be successful in finding her in time.

~~~~~

Present Day

"Lady Arwen and Estel are getting worried that you will leave."

  Hal didn't startle at Haldir's voice, having been aware of his presence before he actually appeared. They were sitting on one of the outermost flets in Lothlorien, knees tucked against their chest and arms around their legs. "I was going to but Lord Celeborn asked me to wait until the storm had passed over the Misty Mountains." Their voice was quiet, remaining focused on the water surface.

  It had only been due to help from his fellow Marchwardens that he knew where to look, since a couple of elves were keeping an eye on them. He followed the quiet Ranger's gaze out across the River Anduin for a few minutes, taking a moment to just watch the wildlife on it's banks. However with dusk fast approaching, Haldir knew they both needed to return to the city as the dangers worsened at night.

  A quiet conversation picked up as Elf and Dúnadan entered through the entrance of Caras Galadhon, taking the longer path to reach the guest Talan where they were staying. Avoiding the newly betrothed couple wasn't something Hal wanted to do but after their soulmarks had been accidentally revealed the previous night, it was easier to retreat to the safety of Talan Brethil. Although no one was waiting at the flet, it didn't surprise them that people had been there.

  Once inside, Hal curled up on the bed under a blanket and fell into a semi peaceful sleep. When dark grey eyes flickered open a few hours later, she felt more tethered to the world and less like leaving Lothlorien without warning. The gender-fluid Ranger had planned to take a shower and go patrol with Rumil but that plan was momentarily paused. It was virtually impossible to free herself from Aragorn's hold, especially when he didn't want to let go and was asleep.

"Lady Arwen."

She was still exhausted from the long mission she was on, before getting Aragorn's request to visit Lothlorien. But it hadn't shown through the neutral mask she wore in public, nor through the flicker of pain and wariness across her features at seeing the Evenstar and Tree of Gondor marks uncovered on her own arms.

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

For: Open | If you’d like it specified, ask Muse: Prompt: Tattoo - when they reach a certain age, a tattoo shows up on their bodies that they have in common

  Hidden from all but the former Ranger who owned the house and his visiting kin, a small child sized ledge could be found tucked away in the corner. It had first been noted when Maechedir brought the property but he had never bothered to sort it out. A fact he had been grateful for, at varying times in the recent years.

The Northern Barrow-downs.

  Well. The Barrow-downs in general wasn’t a place that many of the living, both travellers and permanent Bree residents, liked to visit. Some of the more braver folk went there only to get items not found anywhere else but most of the time, they asked the Rangers of the North to help. With barghests, wandering spirits and barrow-weights among other creatures now calling the place home, it wasn’t a surprise that most folk tried to avoid the Barrow-downs if possible.

  For most children who lived in Bree, their curiosity were quickly drowned out by fear and dread as they reached the main entrance to the Northern Barrow-downs. Many returned to the safety of the town, terrified of the unnatural chill in the air, glowing red eyes of the roaming hounds and the ever present low lying mist. Yet for the youngsters who did venture into the terrifying land of danger, barrows and darkness, many were never seen again.

“Maechedir, have you seen Hal? She never appeared in the Prancing Pony today.”

  It was one thing to be asked that question by some of the children as his seven year old granddaughter tended to hide away and be alone. But when one of his kin and more importantly, the Heir to the Northern Dúnedain asked it, the former Ranger gave his full attention. He thought for a few minutes, thinking back to when he had last seen her then frowned.

  ”Last time I saw her, she was curled up reading in the alcove by the wall. That was about 7 this morning. I haven’t seen her since, which is odd for Hal. Although…” The old Ranger trailed off uncharacteristically, recalling a fact that he had been worried about.

  When Maechedir didn’t finish his sentence, slate grey eyes narrowed with concern- and worry. For that wasn’t a good sign, especially with the storm coming over. “Mae?” A couple of other visiting Rangers, who had also been looking for the young girl, came to stop near them.

  ”There was something wrong, Arathorn. She’s been acting off for the last few days but I thought it was because another child had disappeared. And she hasn’t said anything but I’ve noticed that she’s been rubbing her upper arms a lot, like they were hurting. I think her tattoos have started to appear.”

  All the Rangers present at that precise moment stilled. They knew that the Tinnudir born man wasn’t prone to exaggeration and triads weren’t unknown to their kin. In fact one such triad of soulmates was standing just a few feet away, waiting for Arathorn’s instructions. It was easy to work out where the search would be starting but the difficulty came in actually finding the kid. As the Barrow-downs weren’t the easiest of places to track in and Hal was far too good at hiding, especially when she didn’t want to be found.

  A wordless look was all the group of Wandering Men needed and they quickly vanished to track down the silent seven year old. It was rare for them to have to search for Hal as normally they ended up asking her for help. As the skies overhead darkened with the fast approaching thunderstorm, Arathorn hoped that his kin would be successful in finding her in time.

~~~~~~

  A decade later, that very group of Dúnedain with the exception of Arathorn, kept a eye on the same young woman from their sheltered campfire. Yet this time, she was now a fully trained Ranger in her own right and they trusted her completely. Some things hadn’t altered though, like Hal’s ability to not be noticed until she spoke. “Thunderstorm coming this way.”

  Most of the other men jumped at the words while rarely heard quiet laughter sounded a moment later but they didn’t mind. The mission leader, Raidon, nodded at her warning and tilted his head, just turning to glance outside to see any signs of lightning yet. While also listening to the various conversations going on. His attention was pulled back when the subject turned to soulmates and tattoos. Many of them had black filled in tattoos, meaning they had been touched by their soulmate while others had greyed out ones and that meant a dead soulmate.

  His own tattoo was coloured black as he had found his partner in Calenglad, back in Tinnudir, Evendim. Of the remain nine Rangers, only one hadn’t mentioned what their tattoos was. Hal. Although he knew that she was listening, having recognised the tiny familiar movements his old student made. “Have you met the carrying the matching tattoos to yours, yet Hal?”

“I don’t know.”

"How do you not know? It’s either just lines, black or grey.”

  A cool sardonic look caused the other man to wince slightly but that was soon forgotten when the gender-fluid 18 years old rolled her sleeves up. The first was a half filled in silver Dúnedan star and on the other arm, was a unfilled but very familiar silver tree of Gondor. "That’s why I don’t know. If I find them, I find them but if I don’t…” She gave a faint smile and hid the tattoos once more. “Well, I’m used to being alone.”

  And that was the end of that particular conversation, Raidon thought as he watched her return to focusing on the maps of the wilderness surrounding Rivendell and the Gap of Rohan. Although the older man knew that it was only due to Arathorn, that his younger kin hadn’t completely given up on finding her soulmates. Then the thunderstorm finally arrived and nothing else was said, as most of them tried to get some much needed rest. before starting the journey to Rivendell and Rohan beyond.