By the time she returned to the borders of Lindon, gusts of nighttime wind made her shiver in her gambeson, crusty and congealed with half-dried blood. She considered stopping in Mithlond to find and warn Círdan of all she had learned before continuing to Forlond. But she did not get far on the main path of the Havens before scouts found her and informed her that the King was present and looking for her. She noted an uptick in the presence of guards out and about, especially for the early hours before dawn.
The King was not alone in Círdan's workshop. The Shipwright looked her over with a softer gaze than Ereinion's neutral expression. Elrond's eyes went wide at her disheveled appearance, looking her over with care.
"Commander, are you hurt?" Círdan asked, approaching her.
"We have been looking for you all day and night," Elrond added earnestly. He had worried for her. Guilt gnawed a pit in Galadriel's stomach.
"No, no, I am unharmed. It is not my blood," she assured him before turning to her grand-nephew. "High King," she managed a small bow, her heart thundering.
"What happened, Commander?" The King asked, eyes falling to the sword at her hip. "Where have you been?"
"High King," she repeated, locking her eyes on his waiting gaze. "As we speak, Adar and his armies of orcs march for Eregion. I ask for a party to leave at once so we may assist Lord Celebrimbor in preparing the city's defenses while the rest of our soldiers prepare to join."
"You did not answer my question, Commander," Ereinion replied, his stony mask slipping. "Where were you?"
"Where the Lhûn meets the Evendim," she answered. Once she said what he really wanted to know, she could not expect him to listen to her any further. "Do you understand what I have said? Adar is already on his way. Celebrimbor does not know."
"And how is it that you know? What happened in the wilderness?" Ereinion's jaw clenched with frustration.
Galadriel swallowed against the tightening of her throat, the blood rushing in her ears.
"Galadriel, was Commander Hwesdis with you?" Círdan asked in a direct voice.
She looked at the shipwright, her heart twisting as she considered the kindness and patience he always gifted her when others did not, the encouragement he offered when she first left the twins in his care.
"Galadriel?" Elrond's concerned voice hurt most of all.
There was nothing she could do but keep on swimming against the current.
the lotr movies got eowyn wrong. yes the fighting was cool. "i am no man" scene was badass. but the point of eowyn is not "woman wants to fight, isn't allowed to, eventually gets to fight and that's her happy ending."
the point of eowyn is "woman is depressed, wants to be free/respected/seen/known/loved, is put in a (metaphorical) box with the other women, wants to fight bc it will bring her either Respect or Death."
she kills the dang Witch King. she fights and wins and it's awesome and satisfying. but fighting is NOT her happy ending. it's her sad ending. she ends up wounded and broken, like everyone else in this stupid WWI-trauma story. Like Frodo. Like Faramir.
I cannot emphasize enough that Faramir meets her AFTER she is UNABLE to fight (the only thing she thought gave her value and honor) and STILL admires and respects and loves her. Eowyn is more than a fighter. Eowyn is more than what she does. And for someone like me who's disabled from doing a lot of things that society expects of me, that means a lot.
Hey everyone! Here are some drawings I did as exercises using references.
By the way, credits to @loonicaro, ABAcademy, and Gonzais for the references. I'm probably wrapping up a season of Saurondriels drawings and maybe I'll start other projects soon. But before season 3 of Trop starts, I want to share them with you.
Hey, so Sophie here opened my eyes and now I can’t not bring up the production crew’s jacket:
The “we’re making two” line comes to mind, but I don’t want to get my or anyone else’s hopes up. The ring he’s holding might as well be one of the Nine.
During Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor, Galadriel is captured in the middle of a war, imprisoned, and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged.
“I called them to me here when I found sanctuary in these ruins, and they came—as they were instructed to do,” he explained quite calmly to her. “They have been here with me the whole time. So, they are not in Mordor. That is no longer their place.”
Galadriel felt the cold of the wraiths—and the heat of an unknown source warm within her hand. She glanced furtively between the ghosts, the spirits of Men, before landing her eyes upon Halbrand.
“What do you intend to do with them?” she then asked.
“That is for you to decide,” he said lightly. “You have called upon me to release my power over them, have you not?”
and in response to Andy Serkis' "all white shire" comment, i'm going to quote Tolkien himself:
"But I have the hatred of apartheid in my bones; and most of all I detest the segregation or separation of Language and Literature. I do not care which of them you think White."
“When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don't blame them.”
@hamletthedane’s tags:
#Vincent Van Gogh is crying somewhere in the after and I’m crying just thinking about that#you knew!! you saw the patterns!! there is a whole planet painted in the oils from your brush!!#TIL that the craft Juno went as close as 4000km from Jupiter’s weather surface#for context: the craft was closer to Jupiter than NYC is to LA#which is space terms is like. basically being on the planet#holy shit
snowghoul
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
