. ONE OF THE LAST .

I shut my eyes, and all the world drops dead. I lift my lids, and all is born again. --- king thranduil oropherion of tolkien's legendarium, narrated by fern.

[breniatham]

me, lookin’ into the camera :

[breniatham]

flick me if you're into letter correspondence threads.

[classic-starters]

starters from the 430 b.c.e play by aeschylus, translated by david grene, PROMETHEUS BOUND

“i am forced to do this ; do not keep urging me.”

“you can be softhearted.”

“come, why are you holding back?”

“our kinship has strange power ; that, and our life together.”

“do you not fear that more?”

“you are always pitiless, always full of ruthlessness.”

“i have no answer to this.”

“so must i bear, as lightly as i can, the destiny that fate has given me.”

“what am i saying?”

“my enemies can laugh at what i suffer.”

“this is a sickness rooted and inherent in the nature of a tyranny.”

“against these plans none stood save i: i dared.”

“is there no limit set for your pain?”

“i placed in them blind hopes.”

“let me be and have no care for me.”

“you are better at advising others than yourself.”

“his is a heart you should beware of vexing.”

“your own misfortune will be my teacher.”

“kindness that can never be requited, tell me, where is the help in that, my friend?”

“what land is this?”

“say what you are asking for: i will tell you all.”

“will you then grant me this favour?”

“tell me, who are you?”

“some have been wretched before me, but who of these suffered as i do?”

“and what was the offense of which this is the punishment?”

“i beg you, do not hide from me what i must endure.”

“i hesitate to break your spirit.”

“you would be glad to see that catastrophe, i think.”

have you no fear of uttering such words?”

“worship him, pray ; flatter whatever king is king today.”

“your words declare you mad, and mad indeed.”

“you mock me like a child!”

“i have said too much already.”

“i am the one whom he cannot kill.”

[theimagerie]

[breniatham]

JOHN TOWNER, Paris, France.

[breniatham]

because i enjoy bullet lists, here's one referencing some items thranduil was skilled with and often practiced regularly in the time before he was crowned !

correspondence, networking, and establishing good relations. he was a good choice of company if one were interested in expanding their circle in just about any direction.

sports, sparring, and competitive games. i wouldn’t call him playful, but he certainly had a sunny streak.

agricultural engineering & horticulture -- elf tier. old mcthranduil had a fa-

cartography ! the sheer number of maps that have been penned or otherwise derived from one he illustrated himself ? ludicrous. 

dance. this one hurts me.

swimming and cardiac - focused exercise. 

[breniatham]

more things i’d like to journey through while holding y’all’s hands,

encounter(s) with folk who are under a very different (read: adversarial, genuinely suspicious, etc.) impression of elves.   what, you think they have a good reputation everywhere?

the consequences / aftermath of tBoFA.   between the emotionally charged quickfire battle and the immediate need to gather every kingdom involved and rebuild regardless of personal opinion or loss, and then the environmental costs of having a rotting dragon corpse in what’s left of esgaroth? gimme the grit.

pre - established friendships.   this will be tricky and not for the faint of heart, if you know what i mean – but i want it.

living through to the modern era.   this is even worse than the want immediately above it. prepare for pain.

[breniatham]

   DREAMS ARE NAMELESS .   ONE COULD BE NO LESS WISER   than to presume the experience predicates the eyes must be closed. Indeed it has not been so long that he forgets what he might expect   ---   even at no better than placing one foot before the other. 

   Within this bastion of stone, the drag of his train accompanies a slow - moving dread, and by the time he recognizes the dizzy fever for what it is and shall be... the thing has long since been done. Thranduil’s next step becomes his last for a moment so profoundly held within its own frame of suspense that he dares not draw breath, for upon this turn beneath the deep sanctuary of his halls, he has found himself within the splendorous, marble - studded halls of Amon Lanc. 

   It is precisely as he recalled   ---   but empty. Barren. 

   From where he stands, Thranduil can see the forest at its whole and hail :   the trees were broad and stretched far, the fields poured forth their bounty from the soil, and the air itself was sweet, perfumed by the citrus trees that grew plentiful along every path. 

   What is this,   his lips part, but what nests upon his tongue is not the question itself, but the fury of having been willing to ask it,   this vision is not mine. 

   The ache, however, he welcomes. He has learned not to refuse it. As it comes and comes and comes he reaches out a hand, and the soft heat that radiates from the pads of his fingers settles at once into the pillar alongside him as though welcoming him home. Even this was familiar. Even this was ill. 

   @maladum .

[breniatham]

i keep wanting to make a promo but the only synapse firing is thranduil hasn’t slept in [ REDACTED ]

[breniatham]

in the early years of taur-e-ndaedelos, thranduil and oropher had a verbally and energetically traumatic falling out over the manner of oropher's rule. thranduil's position was defense; oropher's impressions of understanding the full scope of consequences for decisions made in political haste was not the truth from thranduil's perspective, and thranduil was irreverent of him once it became clear his father's mind was made. shortly thereafter, thranduil left, willingly forfeiting his position as heir and effectively removing himself as oropher's advisor. his travels of middle earth were varied, but he did not prefer the cities, nor did he visit them or their rulers if it could be helped.

[breniarchive-blog]

dwarfsmut:

asiswolf:

You know, Thranduil is actually the only Third Age Elven ruler who isn’t using a Ring of Power to protect his lands. Elrond has Vilya, Galadriel has Nenya, and even Cirdan (ruler of the Grey Havens) had Narya until he gave it to Gandalf.

So for thousands of years Thranduil has been defending his lands on his own against Orcs, Goblins, and Giant Spiders, plus Sauron setting up a summer home in his forest. And yet his hair STILL looks perfect.

Thranduil used Super Repel

[breniatham]

enjoyable interaction building blocks and selfish wants now that my eyes are open:

antagonistic / rival standing. let's be perfectly transparent; he's an asshole but there's always a reason, be it political or otherwise. (emotional affect such as conflicts of a personal nature are welcome, but the two are not mutually exclusive)

an exploration of thranduil's withdrawal from the broader network of elven and mortal rulers, and how this decision influenced the woodland realm. after oropher's passing and the inheritance of the crown, there were a great many changes made --- and i find it hard to believe they were all widely accepted.

social status and reception among other elves. this is where my ties to fellow tolkien elves might be shaken. this particular exploration will follow thranduil's ownership of his identity as an openly q*eer, afab elven ruler.

related to the above: the relationship between thranduil and legolas in the context of thranduil having borne legolas himself.

the role thranduil plays in keeping the enemy trammeled in the south. it's a full time job! and it comes with consequences, as most power does.

economic stability and trade in the woodland realm and beyond. this is a really sexy one if you also happen to write a political figure. ;---)

a close friendship with bilbo baggins. umm. what can i say, i want elf - friend things very badly, and bilbo worked hard to earn that title! (obviously all relation - specific wants and whims are mutable)

deep dive into thranduil's acute disinterest in the valar. agnostic elves anyone?

[breniatham]

   NORTHWESTERN FORESTS SHOULDER A SILENCE SO DENSE ,   THE GREEN         of it all almost appears to breathe. The air, too, is thick and sultry   ---   Theron’s lashes tremble in the pale early light, but he fights the distraction, and thumbs the left shell of his ear. 

   On their way, his fingers brush slim wire, and he remembers the silence is not a sentence. Once the earbuds are in, he pauses long enough that his body comes to a stand - still from the inside out. Only when Maria Callas’ velvet vibrato fills his head do his lungs fill with oxygen, and his eyes open. He toggles the volume until he can hear nothing but her voice, and gladly does he see the world through Habanera’s descending chromatic scale. 

   But he does have work to do. Iollan’s worktable is rock - steady ;   oaken and sealed from legs to surface. Good for keeping things in, just as well as keeping them out. All the better, for the doe that rests atop it has already been bled, but she’ll leave her mark the same as all life   ( and death )   does. His cuts are gentle. His respect is plain. 

   Bare from fingertips to elbows, with the sleeves of Iollan’s shirt rolled taut to keep them in place, Theron slips until he’s lost, quiet like the trees, but thriving slow and sweet and baptized by his escape.         /         @cennan​ .

[breniatham]

everyone stopped inviting thranduil to counsel meetings because every time a wizard or celeborn spoke, he would somehow find an inappropriately crunchy vegetable to eat

[pixelcoder-deactivated20211223]

[breniatham]

Switzerland Alps - Sep. 2k18   Prints  | Instagram

[lifeinpoetry]

I am the territory no one will inhabit. The borderlands of motherhood / and not again. Want has no business here.

Erika Meitner, from “By Other Means,” Copia 

[breniatham]

👏 + neck / nape

   WILD ARE HER EYES ,   NOTHING SHORT OF PEARL - SHINE         under the coarse guide of daylight  ——  as though no living thing were made to see what was reflected in them. The Eldar may be ageless and endless by pain of condition, but that condition was death, and it has mothered her fondly. 

   Yet none will know the fearlessness he does, for much as her gaze wavers and longs to wallow in awful teeth and a great cloying gout of red, he knows in which ways interest shapes the lashes. He finds a monstrous peace in watching her scintillating processes of decision. 

   He takes now to casting pale lamp - stare to her in turn.

👏      /     want to touch ?      accepting.

[tresbongout]