we will make this place our home - Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three: Things Left Behind
OroyanwĂ« Public Library was in the middle of town, a red-brick building of a distinguished age, with eight sides and a green copper roof-dome rising above the neighbouring shops. At its top a little window-turret was capped with a brass weathervane. You couldnât miss it, even if the only parking-space was three streets away squeezed between a plumberâs van and a skip. We headed straight on to the high street, past the dreaded clothes shops and the hubbub of Saturday shoppers, past the shoe shop (where Linher stared at the floor and hurried as fast as he could), past the towering bank, and up three broad steps to reach the grand library door. It was twice my height, surrounded by elaborate carved stone. A finely-sculpted book bore the inscription â1863â. I stared up, feeling very small indeed.Â
The door was propped open with an umbrella-stand, and from inside spilled a warm yellowish light. We heard the rustling hush of newspapers and shoes on carpets and library-goers trying their best to be quiet.Â
âCome on, then; we didnât come to look at the door,â laughed Mrs. Ingolodh, steering me inside.
In which Elrond and Linher go in search of animal books - and discover the secrets of the camera. Read the full chapter here on AO3.
(Image: the children's department at Falkirk Public Library, 1970s, from https://collections.falkirk.gov.uk/)
"And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air."
latest finished commission, where i had the opportunity to go with my own vision of the characters, and here's what i landed on... they may look like squares but i know they freak4freak in their hearts etc.
curufin has better things to do than pose for picture day. he has a son to raise. baby tyelpe decided that he also has better things to do, like seeing if his fatherâs hair is good leverage for climbing (spoiler: itâs not)
HereŽs a Carmëlor for you as a present, enjoying the summer - I tried to make him as close to your design as possible, but I donŽt have all the amazing patterns you have, nonetheless, I hope you like him!
According to a text in The Nature of Middle-earth, Numenoreans could send out a mental call to their horses, a bit like Gandalf does to Shadowfax, although probably not across quite such long distances. Inspired by this, here is a ficlet about Isildur's get-away after he stole the last fruit of the White Tree of Numenor almost from under the noses of Ar-Pharazon and Sauron.
I have sneaked several of the event's prompt words in here.
Isildur stumbled down a narrow side alley in the dark, almost hugging the wall, partly because he did not want to be seen, but also because his legs kept buckling under him. He had got a fair distance away from the Courtyard of the Tree before he realized just how badly the guards had succeeded in wounding him, but now he was enduring the effects, the blood loss and the pain. He hoped he was still walking in the right direction.
âNow would be a good time for you to return to me, Karbi,â he thought frantically. He tried to shape that thought into a mental call, but his mind was growing fuzzy. He should have tried earlier. He had known what risks he was running but he had not bargained for such difficulties at this stage, if he ever managed to escape the palace and its surroundings alive. He stumbled on.
It took him a while to realize he was hearing the clop-clop of hooves along the cobbles, coming towards him, and then he was not sure he was not imagining it. But suddenly, she was there, his faithful Karbi, who he had left to wander free among the abandoned ruins of an executed friendâs estate on the outskirts of the city. Somehow, she had found him. She gently nudged his arm and he almost toppled against her. But with a couple of attempts and a lot of help from her he made it into the saddle. Despite everything, he remembered to check and he breathed a sigh of relief: he still had Nimlothâs fruit and the whole venture was not in vain, if only he could get it back to Father or Grandfather.
âI wonât be able to help, Karbi,â he whispered hoarsely. âSomehow you will have to get us both home. No, to Grandfatherâs house outside the town walls, if you can do it, Karbi. Please.â
Karbi stepped softly, softly, trying not to jolt him. A good thing that she had such a dark coat; she almost blended in with the shadows and the skies were cloudy tonight. Cautiously, she headed east, towards Romenna. Her rider needed more care than a mare could give, but this was not a good place and she needed to get him away. She knew it was up to her now and it would not be her fault if they did not make it to Amandil.
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