I read the Silmarillion and remember most of it

My Tolkien thought dump she/her

[hacvek]

reminder to worldbuilders: don't get caught up in things that aren't important to the story you're writing, like plot and characters! instead, try to focus on what readers actually care about: detailed plate tectonics

[enki2]

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

@amtrak-official you're the only exception because you're literally just one guy. has anyone else at amtrak ever seen this account

[queer-as-city-folk]

I mean they don't really pay attention to what gets posted, as long as I don't get implicated in a murder, they don’t fucking care what I do

[turbothicc]

This u?

[queer-as-city-folk]

Yeah, what of it?

[sun-almighty-wukong]

good job, amtrak

[etrianodysseyobsession-hd-deact]

[theworsethingsgettheharderifight]

i spent an insane amount of time trying to make that gif on my phone lmao please validate me 🥲

[sonoran-partisan]

Out of Touch Advent

[comiclysmic]

Spinning Chips into Broams~

Cosmere Inktober - Glass ft. Rysn and Chiri-chiri

✒️ Made with Kuretake and Deleter ink, plus Dr. Ph. Martin watercolour

[effervescentdragon]

for the prompts, fireplace cuddles for kidnap dads?

Hi Jaz! Thank you so much for the prompt! This turned out a bit longer than I thought it would be, but it's really soft, so I really hope you like it, because I know how much you love kidnap fam! <3 let me know what you think!

“Come here, you two.”

Elrond raises his head from the book as Maglor’s voice registers through his history-filled brain. “What?” Elros mumbles underneath both of their blankets, half-asleep on the bed.

“Come with me,” Maglor says with a smile. “We have a surprise for you.”

Elrond exchanges a look with his brother, but they are, as usual, on the same page. Neither of them is overly worried, not anymore. As Elros untangles himself from the blankets, Elrond marks the page in the book so as not to lose his place when he inevitably returns to it after whatever the surprise is and before sleep.

“Bring the book, winimo,” Maglor says, chuckling when Elrond inevitably scrunches his nose in protest of being called that. Elros rolls his eyes, because his brother knows how much Elrond secretly likes it. Mostly because he does, too.

They cross the halls quietly with Maglor in the lead, obviously heading to the big hall. Before they reach it, though, Maglor turns left into a small hallway leading to a doorway Elrond’s never noticed before. Elros’ hand finds his as Maglor pushes the door open and a dim light shines upon them. Elros lets go of his hand, his curiosity getting the better of him. Besides, he was always braver of the two. Elrond hesitates for just a moment, but then Maglor says “Come on. I think you’ll like this,” and he is smiling, and Elrond finds his courage and walks through the doorway.

The room is small and- and warm. Elrond’s eyes fall on the fireplace, in which a huge fire is burning. Crouched before it is Madehros, his flesh arm outstretched above the flames. His face is half-turned towards the fire, his eyes closed, and the play of shadows upon his scars should perhaps scare Elrond. It does not. It only makes him sad.

“Háno, we’re here,” Maglor says softly. “I brought Elrond and Elros with me.”

Maedhros opens his eyes slowly, as if coming up from a trance. He blinks owlishly, confused for a moment, and then his eyes fall on Elros, who is standing close to him. Elrond would swear his eyes soften, even though the lines of his face do not. He removes his hand from the fire absent-mindedly and nods.

“Good. Yes. Good.” He says, and his raspy voice is soft in the quiet of the room.

“Yes,” Maglor says, and his hands comes to rest upon Elrond’s shoulder. When he glances upwards, Maglor’s eyes are misty and too-knowing, and Elrond suddenly realizes he cannot stand the sadness that creeps into the room.

“Is this our surprise?” He asks, and his voice shakes a bit. Maglor looks down at him and his eyes clear, and his smile returns.

“Yes. We thought, given how cold it is, so cold even we Eldar can feel it, you could sleep here tonight,” he explains. Elrond looks to where he’s pointing and sees a veritable fortress of blankets and pillows on the floor by the fireplace. He clutches his book closer to his chest as he lets warmth fill him. He doubts it’s all due to the fire.

“Where will you sleep?” Elros asks suddenly. His eyes are firmly set on Maedhros, who looks confused.

“In our- rooms?” His answer comes out more like a question. He casts a quick look to Maglor, then looks back to Elros. “In our rooms, as we always do. We just- we didn’t want you to be cold,” he adds, and his voice is low, and kind, and terrible.

Elros says nothing then, just looks at Maedhros, who does not lower his gaze. Whatever he sees there makes him determined to do- something. Elrond knows his brother, knows that face like he knows his own, but he doesn’t know what Elros wants to do until Elros turns and looks at him.

Minutes pass.The room is quiet.

Elrond nods.

“Come on,” Elros says, and then steps closer and takes Maedhros’ hand in his, because he was always the brave one. “There is no reason for you to be cold. There’s enough space here for all of us,” he says, and pulls on Maedhros’ hand.

The grip on Elrond’s shoulder tightens for a brief instant, so Elrond looks up. Maglor is looking at him, and his eyes are misty again, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Elrond, somehow, finds his courage.

“Come on,” he says, and grips Maglor’s hand. “He’s right.”

He drags Maglor behind him, as much as you can drag someone who is much stronger than you and could probably stop you if he really wanted to, and he approaches the blankets. Maedhros is sitting on the edge awkwardly, his face filled with confusion and something else, something Elrond does not recognize, for he has never seen that expression on Maedhros’ face. Elros is already lying down towards the middle, and he is still clutching Maedhros’ hand in his.

Elrond moves to lay beside his brother, still not looking at Maglor. He dares not let go of his hand. He is still clutching the book in his other one.

I need this, he thinks. We need this.

He lays down next to his brother, and a quick look of reassurance between them passes quickly, and then Elros is closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into the blankets and closer to Maedhros. His hand is a vice grip on Maedhros’. Elrond chances a look towards Maedhros’ face, and he almost regrets it. It is filled with something that Elrond only recognizes when he turns towards Maglor right after and finds him already looking at Elrond.

Wonder.

The fire burns slowly and steadily, and Elrond does not want to break the comfortable, if a bit awkward silence that has enveloped them. He closes his eyes. He feels Maglor sitting beside him on the bed, his brother’s warmth a steady presence on his other side. They are laying in a warm room with a Feanorian on either side, and Elrond closes his eyes and feels safe.

It should probably bother him, but then Maglor’s other hand, the one he’s not holding onto, starts caressing his hair. He is warm and comfortable, and his eyes are heavy, and the caress in his hair feels good. Familiar. Maglor starts humming a melody which Elrond does not recognize, but the fire-embers play on his closed eyelids

“The line you seek, it does not end / it blurs, it twists, it never bends/ what you feel, my love, my friend / I call it hate that to love ascends,” Maglor sings softly, and Elrond lets go of the book as his brother’s hand grips his. A blanket covers him, and Maglor’s voice is lovely and for once, not haunting.

On the other side, quietly, something moves. Their bed for the night sinks, and Elrond does not need to open his eyes to know that Maedhros is now laid upon it, protecting them all, closest one to the door. A gentle hum joins Maglor’s, adding depth to the quiet lullaby, another dimension of something a little painful, but also kind.

The fire is warm, the song is lovely, Elros squeezes his hand, Maglor combs his hair with nimble fingers, and Maedhros is humming in harmony. The night is harmonious, and comforting, and tender.

“Thank you, atya, atar,” Elrond thinks, or says, and then peaceful sleep takes him.

[eleivelui-deactivated20230224]

[smilingdawn]

Welcome to the Silmarillion, you've completed the rite of passage 🤝

[forestials]

The Fellowship for @thedesertspring who wanted to see them together! My gift for the @officialtolkiensecretsanta - I hope you like it, I had so much fun drawing them!

[notbecauseofvictories]

Can you tell me why Frodo is so important in lotr? Why can't someone else, anyone else, carry the ring to mordor?

but someone else could.

that’s the whole point of frodo—there is nothing special about him, he’s a hobbit, he’s short and likes stories, smokes pipeweed and makes mischief, he’s a young man like other young men, except for the singularly important fact that he is the one who volunteers. there is this terrible thing that must be done, the magnitude of which no one fully understands and can never understand before it is done, but frodo says me and frodo says I will.

(when boromir is thinking of how he can use the ring to defend gondor, when aragorn is thinking of how it brought down proud isildur, when elrond is holding council and gandalf is thinking of how twisted he would become, if he ever dared—)

but then there’s frodo, who desires nothing except what he has already left behind him, and says, I will take the Ring.

it is an offer made out of absolute innocence, utter sincerity. It is made without knowing what it will make of him—and frodo loses everything to the ring, he loses peace and himself and the shire, he loses the ability to be in the world. It’s cruel, the ring is cruel, it searches out every weakness you have and feeds on it, drinks you dry and fills you with its poison instead, the ring is so cruel.

and frodo picks it up willingly. for no other reason except that it has to be done.

(the ring warps boromir into a hopeless grasping dead thing, the power of the palantir turns denethor into an old man, jealous and suspicious, it bends even saruman, once the proudest of the istari, into a mechanised warlord, sitting in his fortress and bent over his perverse creations—all the best of intentions, laid waste)

but there’s a reason gollum exists in the narrative, which is to show—well, to show what frodo might have been. because even as frodo grows mistrustful and wearied, as the burden of this ring grows heavier and heavier, he is never gollum. he is gentle to gollum. he is afraid—god frodo is so afraid for 2/3 of these books he is so tired and afraid, but he keeps moving, he walks though it would pull him into the ground, because he asked for this, he said he would.

someone else could have carried the ring to mordor, I suppose. the idea of a martyr is not dependent on the particular flesh and blood person dying for some greater purpose. but such a thing has to be chosen, lifted onto your shoulders for the right reason, the truest reasons, and followed into the dark, though it would see you burnt through and bled out.

I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

[mushfromnewsies]

y'know say what you want about tumblr (and I have), but this is still probably the simplest and most powerful distillation of the heart of the Lord of the Rings I’ve ever read. I think back to it all the time

[frodo-in-a-fez]

IM FUCKING CRYING

[eldamaranquendi]

LEGENDARIUM by https://www.instagram.com/jennydolfenart/

1. Faramir

2. Feanor

3. Fingon

4. Maedhros

5. Maglor

[gnometheartist]

Goldwine. The Lord of the Rings - Appendices / J.R.R. Tolkien

[halfelven]

trauma dumping at the Council of Elrond

[norloth]

Need a Happy Ending. :)

[fluma]

Yavanna

Dont know which I prefer, so here are both versions..

[eldamaranquendi]

Galadriel by tatkatmur

[shallowvenus]

while i LOVE the idea that legolas had to smuggle gimli into valinor to the dismay of the elves there, let me raise you an even better one:

everyone who knew legolas knew that he would either bring gimli with him or just not show up at all (a la arwen undomiel) - they spent their years after the war of the ring travelling together and shattering every elf/dwarf convention. when legolas's ship reached valinor the first thing someone said to him was 'so where's the dwarf'.