withallthatisleftofmyheart

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Me when Galadriel’s “all shall love me and despair” monologue: mark me down as scared and horny

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

I called this 'Romance novel Adar' but idk I don't read romance novels.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Jetsam

"Our Winterfeast" prompt fill #3. Angst/hope alternate in this G-rated drabble.

There had been so many years of want. Decades of fear and hiding, living off the scraps of Dwarves and Men, hiding their numbers in barren places and deep forests or even darker caves. Never daring to leave a trace that might signal to the masters of the land that Uruk were there, in numbers high enough to warrant extermination campaigns.

They were a people in exile, but exile was better than Forodwaith, better than shelter under the roof of dark powers that only meant to use his children for violence.

He lost his name along these wanderings. And good riddance. He wasn’t an Elf, did not want an Elvish name. After he and his children killed Mairon, there was no one left to call him anything but Adar. His people were now four generations past any who had ever heard him called by any other name.

On this day, Adar was not thinking of what was lost, but rather what had been found. There had been rich plundering in the Southlands, his children thrilled as he allowed them to seize more than ever before. Given that they were soon to be the new masters of this land, there was no need to pilfer only what they thought would go unnoticed. Each time the raiding parties returned, they asked Adar to look over what they had brought. It was practical, of course, everything about his children was practical, but there was a sense of reverence in the way they watched his inspection. It had almost become a ritual, his benediction, and Adar was sure to praise his children’s efforts on every occasion.

They brought him first to a wagon laden with provisions – the winter stores of more than one farmhouse, by the look of the assorted barrels and sacks. The youngest Uruk standing there, clearly in just his first year old enough to venture out of camp with a squadron, offered him a bright red apple from the bushel. Adar accepted graciously, which made the boy beam, and patted him on the head. The impulse to share, as infrequently as he noticed it among his people, was always to be rewarded. His children were bred for war but soon, so soon now, they would need to learn other ways. “You have fed our people well today.”

Next was a pile of implements – sickles, hoes, pitchforks. “Lord Father,” said the squad leader standing behind it, “there is good iron here. We can beat these all into blades within a few weeks. Many good spearheads.”

Adar stared down at the tools. In another life, he has known other purposes for these things, beyond cobbled weaponry or armor. “Keep some of these back, just as they are. We will remember how to work the land, soon.”

Some of his children nodded, others shifted uncomfortably. War was all they knew. He would have to change much in how he led them, teach them so much if his dream of haven in Mordor could be realized.

He was led past piles of clothing, fabrics and furs cut for the limbs of men that would be re-cut to accommodate his children’s more twisted forms. A few in the camp knew something of sewing and Adar looked forward to the skill they would gain with more time to practice, safe in new homes without the constant need to fight, march, and flee.

He reached the end of line of goods. “Young-uns grabbed some things they found curious, Lord Father. We weren’t sure what to make of’em. Anything of use here?”

Adar looked down at an assortment of jetsam: a thin flower vase, glazed bright blue; a birdcage, empty; a dirty bundle of rags that might have once been a peasant girl’s doll. His eye caught on a thin, hollowed bone with holes drilled at regular intervals. He picked it up, turning it in his hands. Some ancient muscle memory had him bringing it to his lips. If one pursed them just so and blew across the first hole…

A trilling note, high and wild, rang out over the Uruk gathered around him. Heads turned and many drew closer as Adar’s fingertips descended upon the holes along the bone, deepening the pitch. He took a breath, then blew again, his fingers this time dancing up and down as they played a melody from his youth that he had not thought of in an Age. Two Ages, almost. But Elven memory never dims. It was haunting, delicate and peaceful and sad and he wasn’t sure if he liked the way it was making him feel.

Adar opened his eyes when the song was done, barely realizing he had closed them.

His children were cringing. Not in fear, though they dared not insult him with criticism. The disgust on their faces was apparent, though.

“What’s the use of that, Lord?” one asked. “It makes a dreadful noise. And not even the kind that might scare your enemies.”

Adar looked down at the flute in his hands, bemused. “What use, indeed?”

He tossed it back upon the ground. If the sound grated upon Uruk ears, then he had no use for Elven music. His people would create their own soon.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Last night I dreamt that I met Lúthien Tinúviel at an anarchist bookfair and was so starstruck I couldn’t speak

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Low Opacity Elrond: the trifecta

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐈𝐋-𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃

loose hair without a crown and costume detail. season one. rings of power.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Part: 125/?

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

"don't the great tales ever end?"

The endless carry over from the ancient history of Middle Earth (Silmarillion etc) to the last place Tolkien brings us in the story of the lands is always mind-blowing. You always find something new that's actually very old and some other connection to the past.

The fact that Frodo and Sam using the phial of Galadriel to fight Shelob is just a continuation of the story of the Silmarils. For Shelob's mother was Ungoliant who poisoned the trees, the trees whose light was held in the Silmarils. The light that ended up in the sky on Earendil's ship. The light of Earendil that is in the phial used to ward off the child of the monster that slew the trees.

The sword that smites the Balrog of Moria is found by chance in a troll hoard. But it was forged in Gondolin when Balrogs were much more of a concern. Any lesser sword would have failed to slay the Balrog.

Just like any lesser dagger than Sting would have failed to wound Shelob and cut through her webs.

There's dozens of moments like this throughout the works of Tolkien where the pattern of history in his world weaves in an essential piece from the past of his world. The great tales never truly end.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Yeah I’m a friend with benefits. The benefit is I can and will talk to you about the Silmarillion at length

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

"A ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three." BENJAMIN WALKER as GIL-GALAD in The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power ▸2.01 "Elven Kings Under the Sky"

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Saw this photo…

… and thought: “That face reminds me of someone. Who is it?”

“… Ah yes.”

Catdar is born.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Christmas gift for one of my friends

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

Morfydd Clark (as Galadriel) Joseph Mawle (as Adar) The scary truth on Adar’s words to Galadriel. Scene from season one’s episode “Udun” THE RINGS OF POWER (2022)

[+] MORFYDD [GIF Collection] 🥀 [+] ..more on��Galadriel ✨ [+] ..more posts on “The Rings of Power” 🎬

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

I love your Adar fiction! Please please keep writing it!

Ohhh thank you so much @eowyn7023. I appreciate the encouragement ❤️ I wrote a lot in a short space of time, then realised it was an unsustainable pace and got in my head about it. So I’m taking a bit of a break but I intend to continue it!

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

How successful would Maglor Fëanorion…

(note to submitter: I couldn’t use the photo you submitted since it was too blurry)

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Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

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Hair hcs for the House of Fëanor

House of Fingolfin | House of Finarfin

A/N: this is probably one of the most random ideas I’ve ever had. Originally wanted to put all three houses into one post but thought that might be a bit long so I decided to split it up. Enjoy :D

Fëanor

Inherited Finwë’s straight black hair, but it’s not as thick and more on the sleek side. Hair couldn’t hold a curl if it’s life depended on it. Wears it a little longer than waist-length and usually open (except when he’s in the forge) because that’s how his father wears it. Daddy issues, you know? However, on special occasions you can be sure he proudly shows off the fanciest hair clips he’s been working on.

Nerdanel

The most luscious red curls you’ve ever seen. Wears it almost hip-length with intricate braids and has a never-ending supply of beautiful hair clips Fëanor crafts for her.

Maedhros

Inherited Nerdanel’s hair. Wears it about hip-length and braided pre-Angband and waist-length and open post-Angband. Braiding your hair with one hand is complicated and he’s too proud to ask someone else to do it. Short hair might be more practical in his situation but keeping it on the long side helps him to somehow stay in touch with his pre-Angband self.

Maglor

Inherited Fëanor’s hair colour and Nerdanel’s hair texture. Wears it hip-length and open, except for special occasions and musical performances – then he wears it braided with delicate golden hair clips.

Celegorm

The most similar to Míriel’s. An intriguing shade of silvery blond and very straight. Wears it about waist-length and mostly with the signature braids and hair clips of the hunters of Oromë, even post-darkening.

Caranthir

Inherited Fëanor’s hair. Wears it a little longer than mid-back and with simple braids except for special occasions. Then they’re a little more intricate and he breaks out the fancy hair clips – of which he has a variety due to the many merchants passing through his lands.

Curufin

Inherited Fëanor’s hair. Wears it about waist-length with intricate braids and golden hair clips, inspired by those of his father.

Amrod and Amras

Inherited Nerdanel’s hair and wear it about waist-length with matching practical braids since they’re out hunting a lot – it’s become their day-to-day style at this point, and they don’t have much practice with more complicated styles.

Celebrimbor

Inherited Fëanor’s hair. Wears it almost hip-length and with simple braids accentuated with golden hair clips, inspired by those of his father and grandfather.