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@elrond-maglorion
Leaves of Laurelin
I feel pretty happy with how the interference green turned out. Happy little shimmery surprise.
Full page with swatches and swirly blue paint test. All paints are Daniel Smith. The gold edging is a gold Sakura jelly roll metallic.
What people think happens at Noldor dinner parties:
A few glasses of wine
Discussions of crafting
Fancy clothing
Court dancing
Praying to the Valar?
Discussions of fine dining I guess?
Some poetry recitations maybe??
What actually happens at Noldor dinner parties:
Getting shitfaced on cheap ale and dancing on the tables
The most pointlessly extravagant food you’ve ever seen
Loud arguing about extremely pedantic differences in crafting methods
Even louder arguing about the Valar
Noise complaints to the Valar
Very aggressive poetry recitations
Someone telling everyone else to shut up and being completely ignored
Feanor showing up and yelling at someone about their political views
(This happens even if he wasn’t invited)
(He just crawls out of the nearest mirror like a demon with really strong opinions about grammer)
At least one (1) fistfight related to the royal succesion
(Also often started by Feanor)
If Mae was a literal copper-top (ft. oxidizing)
+ bonus Fingon
Elrond as viewed by Númenoreans is hilarious. Aristocracy is one thing, and their long kept histories and direct descent from the elves.
But someone lowborn - still educated, still familiar with the stories. Faithful or not. Lifespan lower than the upper class, but longer than other humans - but that doesn't matter - thousands of years is a long time. The Roman Empire was more recent than this guy.
Because imagine the founder of your nation and its first king, who was told to have been born as the son of a bird and a star, lived to be 500, and who died 2000 years ago. Just. Has a sibling. Who is still running around. You can go visit him. You can! He's very friendly. He wrote the medical book your healers study from. He updates it religiously every other decade. You don't hear from him often because he lives fairly secluded from society and seems to prefer a quiet life but every few hundred years something batshit insane happens and he's right there. At the center of things. Pretending to be a background character, as if Sauron didn't look warily at him expecting him to turn into another Lúthien incident. Maybe he's shy?
You are a sailor. You meet him on one of your journeys to Middle Earth.
He's not shy. He's just crown-phobic. He looks like every single painting of Tar-Minyatur you've seen. He glitters under starlight. Literally. His parents are a bird and a star and you keep forgetting that's not a metaphor. Everyone is in love with him. He sings to the birds. He has had a slowburn one-sided romance going on for the past 1000 years. His crush has yet to find out but the king is running a betting pool.
Shiny Glorfindel
Blossoms of Laurelin
Out my window, the last full moon
Maglor, world’s okayest dad.
I haven’t posted art for you all in a while, so have this little sketch thing that I made today.
now we know who taught Elrond about the red velvet robes...
as per prev reblog i have stolen this for the silm fandom bc my god.
How the elves react to Elrond getting sick:
Maedhros & Maglor: Absolutely freak out. Assume Elrond is dying and that the Doom of Feanor's house has finally caught up to them. Maedhros insists he says in bed and makes him soup. Maglor starts planning a lament for his funeral. (He has a cold)
Gil-Galad: Tries to convince Elrond to rest. Always fails. Has resorted to getting Elrond a bed desk so he can do his work while he rests. Frequently checks up on him to make sure he's alright or to bring him little gifts to make him feel better.
Erestor: Also half-elven, so gets it. Inevitably gets sick whenever Elrond does because he refuses to stay away. They always end up sick together, but they are together, and that means something.
Celebrimbor: Has read multiple books on human anatomy for the sake of his cousins (Erestor, son of Caranthir included). Theoretically understands how to care for someone who is ill. *Checks notes* according to this, if I give you chicken soup every day for a week it will cure your *checks notes again* pneumonia. He's trying his best.
Galadriel: Does not understand human or half-elven biology very well. Has taken Elrond on a ten mile hike in the snow when he was getting over a cough. Elrond's Feanorian followers have never forgiven her for it.
Celebrian: I would say she uses Elrond being sick as an excuse for them to stay in bed and cuddle, but let's be honest, she doesn't need an excuse for that. Knows he can take care of himself, and is a lot more Normal about it than everyone else on this list. Elrond loves her very much.
Glorfindel: Fully willing to pick up Elrond (or Erestor) and take them back to bed so they rest. Takes his duty to protect his lord very seriously. A very comfortable pillow for sick half-elves.
Lindir: Absolutely freaks out. You thought his anxiety about the dwarves was bad?? Elrond always has to calm him down and assure Lindir that is, in fact, not about to die. He does sometimes ask Lindir to play for him when he's ill though.
If I Were Not Myself Would This Be Easier
My entry for @halfelvenweek featuring Celebrian grappling with the daunting lack of knowledge there is about peredhel and Elrond being reminded of his own years spent trying to figure out his identity.
C/W: Brief mention of periods if you’re particularly sensitive to that.
Elrond sectioned one pile of archivist notes into three more separate piles with a sure certainty that he would not remember the criteria by which he’d done it by the end ‘that was if they were in anyway separate by then,’ he thought as the soft midsummers breeze lifted a page and the entirety of the makeshift library was jostled as he shifted his legs under the sheets to catch it. This certainty was solidified as he found himself intrigued by a transcript of a debate that was civil only in the lack of profane vocabulary on the matter of the Quenya Ban and on where to categorise it. A new pile it was.
He knew logically that the very depth of the night was far from the best time to be doing this, at this time of year he should not have to wait far longer for better light than that of the lamps in their bedchamber, and a desk would be a more ideal work environment but nonetheless he found his productivity improved greatly when it was least convenient to be brimming with a thirst for knowledge.
He was so engrossed and enthusiastic that he did not notice the return of his wife through the swaying curtains until the mattress dipped beside him as she collapsed face first onto the sheets as if intending to sleep right then while still in her dressing gown and slippers.
He carefully slipped the papers from beneath her and set them on the floor before they were creased too severely and she stretched her arms up and shifted to rest up against the pillows with long yawn, ‘Elrond?’
‘Hmm? Yes, dear?’
She barely restrained a snicker as she rolled to watch him affectionately ‘What exactly are you doing?’
He looked down at the papers in front of him and started to tidy them off the bed ‘Well you were gone so I thought I’d read while I waited for you but then I noticed the book wasn’t compiled correctly, someone had put the Nirnaeth Arnoediad before everything about Gondolin Celebrian, which makes no sense so I started reordering things and-’
He cut off awkwardly and turned to face his wife once he remembered the reason for her absence and that no matter how patient she was with his sleeping habits this was probably not a time she wanted to be hearing about his archiving.
‘Oh, is Arwen alright? She’s not upset is she, I swear if one of the boys said something to her-’
Celebrian settled into the crook of his arm and kissed his neck soothingly before replying.
‘There’s no need to worry to yourself Arwen is perfectly alright. But, well,’ she scrunched her face up in contemplation as if not entirely sure of the truth of her words.
‘But there is something. What troubles you?’
‘Well she seems in good health, she- she started her bleed,’ she whispered that last bit with surprising distress for an elleth who had never shown much reservation in such simple matters.
‘I’m not sure I follow the problem?’
‘She’s not yet thirty Elrond! There should have been another decade before we had to worry about this, even accounting for her perdhel blood!’
‘Celebrian, I’ve said it’s not an exact science with these things, there’s no way to really anticipate….. anything really,’ he spoke haltingly, the nature of his own blood and his children’s by extension was always a complex topic and deserved to be considered with care.
She clenched her eyes tightly together in the way he knew indicated tears welling up behind them and that her unease was not a sudden thing but something that had been building.
‘I know that. I do and I try to get used to it but, oh Elrond they’re my children and I feel as if I know nothing at all about them! I have no understanding of so many things they go through, when I was trying to reassure Arwen she kept talking of symptoms I’ve never even heard of before and I told her it was all perfectly normal because she seemed alright but I don’t know.’
She lowered her voice to a soft earnest whisper, ‘I sometimes feel that you could do this better yourself. You just understand all of this in a way that I never can, it seems as if anything could happen with them and it’s terrifying!’
Her concerns brought to mind memories he knew his wife would not enjoy a comparison to, of the battle hardened kinslayer, with the voice of silk and raw power both, fervently conversing with his brother over the latest incident that left him feeling so thoroughly out of his depth both as a caretaker in general but especially one to two who were the only of their kind as a direct result of his actions.
‘Don’t say things like that my love, you are an excellent mother and the children love you so very much, as do I, you do not need to understand everything to make them feel safe and loved, which is the important thing and you do it so well,’ he definitely wasn’t thinking of how said kinslayer had held him to his chest on sleepless nights and gently teased knots out of his hair while two who may not have been as out of depths in regard to the nature of half elves were certainly too so in other ways to do so. Neither blood, nor good character make a good parent in all cases and one with arguably neither may be one in others. Celebrian was a good mother, there was no question about that and it would not do for her to think otherwise.
‘It’s terrifying for me as well. I know I may come across as if I know these things but I have scarcely more idea than you a lot of the time. They are the only children of that exact genetic combination of elvish, edain and Maia blood that ever has or ever will exist and while that’s a daunting a prospect and not in the slightest simple for us or them there’s a beauty in it all the same. They will discover and shape themselves in a way none ever will again, each in their own way.’
He knew the fear that she speaks of, how could he not when it is one he felt his whole life, not for his child but for himself? Waking up in the morning and not knowing what may happen to him, if his skin should turn to fire or ice, if plants should grow at his feet or the rocks should crack at his voice, with none he spoke to having anymore idea. He hit adolescence at fifteen and in a peculiarly staggered manner, Elros in an entirely different pattern as well.
He still doesn’t know when he was an adult and no one around him did either. Following logic he supposed it should have been in and around his fifties but whether that was true or not he’ll never know, he reckons it came a lot earlier and could convince enough people of that to let him bear arms at twenty three. Whether Elrond was in all truth still a child- it’s hard to be entirely sure. A childhood such as his would make it hard to tell.
What he did know was that callouses formed over his fingertips while he weaved sweet clear music to bend starlight, rivers and flame with naught but a harp. He knew that many didn’t know what to make of him or the seemingly endless contradictions. He’d had more than one conversation in which he’d been oh so politely asked to ‘tune it down’ a bit, that he was unnerving people and if he looked and sounded enough like an elf and chose to be one why did he have to keep complicating matters for himself. He supposed it would have been ‘easier’ if he were in elf but the fact remained that he wasn’t, and he had no illusions that when they asked why he kept complicating matters for himself what they meant was complicating matters for them. How could it be confuse him to be what he was?
He supposed that vein of questioning may not have frustrated him so if it hadn’t been exactly what he’d heard over countless other things, his gender, his inclinations, his parentage and loyalties. They did not truly want to help him they wanted to be able to know which little box they should put him, if they should condemn him, pity him or embrace him as their own but this was a very difficult distinction to make when he insisted on being both their’s and their enemy’s kin and did not have the decency to pick one. When he did make the Choice many people were confused as to why he kept making a point out of being a Perdhel because he ‘was an elf now’ as if that was what the Choice had been about.
They did not actually wish to understand, they wished for things to be simple so he made a point of continuing to challenge them as much as possible. He strode about Lindon in swaying elvish gowns holding piles of books and scrolls, gathered herbs in the folds of an edainic skirt and apron, sparred with all the Feanorian techniques in a Beorian tunic, sung the work of Maglor in the unmistakable sweet tone of Luthien Tinuviel, flirted shamelessly with whoever caught his eye and laughed among the tips of trees with his floor length dark hair streaming behind him arrayed in robes of Nolofinwean blue. He outraged all with every manner of braid and insignia and above all refused to comprise on any facet of himself to assist any other’s comfort with his existence.
The place in the world for him and his children did not exist but they would make one. The way he had created one at Gil Galad’s side and again in Imladris. The way Elros had among the Numenoreans, his parents had with each other all the way back to Luthien defying the laws of death itself to create what had previously been impossible. They would make one and it would be glorious.
the more I think about the definitions of the words riven and dell the more convinced I am that imladris is bigger on the inside
Yes! And it's entirely possible to create that effect with clever mundane architecture even. If you build into a slope just so, you can have what looks like a smallish building from the top but then it kind of... keeps going. And the side that faces down-slope can have some really spectacular views. Timberline Lodge in Oregon is a really good example of this.
Theory: Elrond effectively wears headlamps like a Dad(TM)
Proof:
Elrond, at least on semi-formal occasions, wears “a star upon his forehead” (RotK book 6, ch.9)—that is, presumably, a pale glowing gem on some sort of coronet. This comes across as very classically Elvish (light, jewelry, star imagery), and a nigh-explicit reference to his father Eärendil. However…
Elrond’s children don’t see as well as Elves, as cited here. If his children don’t, then Elrond, even less Elvish by blood, certainly doesn’t. Now, I will admit that I forget if “Elves can see in the dark” is canon or very popular, D&D-enabled fanon, but it certainly makes sense considering that Elves flourished for centuries or millennia under just starlight, before daylight even existed…and it’s equally reasonable to assume that half-elven night vision is as relatively “weak” as their cited distance vision.
Elrond is the proud father of three, and exhibits traditional Dadly behaviors such as being a little bit of a nerd (loremaster) but also one of the most reliable guys you know, adopting any child left in his presence for a sufficient amount of time (Aragorn), and telling his daughter’s aspiring bf that he won’t be good enough for her until he has a steady job (also Aragorn).
My dad irl, who I promise is a pretty typical Dad, was positively delighted when he discovered casual-use head-mounted flashlights about a decade ago, and has self-satisfiedly worn them on every camping trip and nighttime dog walk ever since.
CONCLUSION: Elrond regularly wears glowing, star-evocative gems on his brow, especially while traveling or at fancy evening parties, and he looks great and it make people respectfully murmur Eärendilion (whether he likes it or not)… But really, it’s not a fashion statement or implicit political position or whatever; it’s because if he doesn’t have some sort of flashlight, he will trip on torchlit steps or walk into low-hanging tree branches in the dark. And it’s so much easier if it’s hands-free! (Especially when he’s spelunking for lost texts!)
His kids all go through a phase of thinking he’s mortifyingly dorky about this, then begrudgingly come to accept that it is really convenient to have a hands-free light for dark nights, caves, etc, and start wearing one themselves.
Happy Valentines to Them specifically ❤️❤️❤️
Celrond is kind of the best.
Headcannon:
In Numenor the Fëanorians are remembered as tragic characters/heroes.
They talk all about their crimes all right. But they also talk about their tragedy and their pain and the world being set against them from the very start.
The Fëanorians aren't some boogyman. They are protectors who broke, who couldn't go on and stumbled down a line they shouldn't.
They are the symbol of oath wrongly sworn. They symbolise the importance of oaths' and they caution all who attempt to swear something.
The Fëanorians aren't just kinslayers. They are so much more. And that knowledge is passed down all the way to Gondor.
