Knight-Born

Indie Multi-fandom AU Sideblog of @dragxnsfire || Multimuse || 18+

[roquenxnar]

Roquenxnar

Indie AU Multimuse || Verses for Lord of the Rings | Dragon Age | Baldur’s Gate | D&D || Rules || 18+ || Follows back from dragxnsfire

muses can be found here 

[dragxnsfire]

sorry for the silence. been going through it emotionally, health-ally, and with job search shit. i'll try to work on writing this week or weeknd but no promises.

[dragxnsfire]

|| aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I’m so tired but. I gotta say I am super montreal-pilled and maple leaf maxxing or whatever the heck the kids say these days. Catch me on discord or here if u wanna chat about blorbos

[roquenxnar]

|| I'm so sorry I've been mia over here-- the brain bugs have been kind of bad and now I'm planning for our first international trip, but hopefully I can do a little tomorrow :')

[garashir]

hey friends where is that picture of boromir with the gondor flag except its a pride flag?

[lesbiansforboromir]

Couldn’t find it so I made another because you’re right that it’s a crime and it’s definitely my duty to remedy it

[feed-your-inbox]

Send "🐣" to meet my muse as a child.

For child muses: Send “🐣+Reverse” to meet my muse as an adult.

[roquenxnar]

|| I do fear a fourth elf will be hitting the roster

[roquenxnar]

|| i know this is supposed to imply that seldo's stronger than ms. fallen ring smith but more realistically it's her acknowledging that most of the quests he spends like this

[pxnxply]

Eöl listened in silence to the explanation, unsure what to make of the stranger and his cheerfulness. It was evident that he had not heard any tales of him, or no doubt he would shun him like the rest of their kin.

“I see.” He looked to the blade then, examining it. It was very old and well made; indeed, it was certainly made by a smith of great skill. Likely, what was why it remained whole now, when lesser blades would have long rusted and crumbled.

“I will see what I can do.” Altruistic, perhaps uncharacteristically so, but he was no friend of the Great Enemy or his servants, and to have another blade strong against them would please him.

“I am not surprised you have heard my name. Sit.” He turned his back and limped to the forge to begin heating the flames. “You have the air of one as old as I. Where has this sword been, that it has tarnished so?”

[roquenxnar]

There was a soft chuckle after he'd finished his explanation, only to be met with silence. It seemed this Eol, whoever he was— or had been in another age— was not one for pleasant, idle chatter... or making new friends. No bother. The Noldo gave a soft hum as he followed after the other elf, every now and then pausing to look over the tools and bits and bobs in the workshop.

"That," Myndilon said, his chest lifting with some old, long-forgotten pride, "is Tuluamrûn. N-not that the name means anything to anyone aside from myself, and my father." He gave a sharp bark of a laugh. "And, of course, to the servants of the Great Enemy it has slain!" The soldier watched as Eol went about the work of the forge, igniting the flames, coaxing them to the right heat. Dutifully the Noldo sat, leaning back upon an anvil as his arms folded over his chest. "Oh, I have heard your name," he said quickly. "But it is... lost. Like an echo of some story or other I have heard, but the particulars escape me." A hand moved to the back of his head, and his usual, absent smile fell. "Many things do, these days. As for the sword..." He shook his head. "Lost with its master in the depths of Moria for two hundred years." He nodded to Eol.

"Tell me then, Master Smith Eol, why live so far from everyone else? Surely you have got a family. If nothing else it cannot be convenient to live in the wilds in your condition." He gestured to the man's leg, to his limp. "No offense meant, of course, mine is the very same. Worse when the weather turns."

[gezelligheiid]

They gaze never wavered, a slight tilt of the head as they listened with a silent curiosity. Their knowledge of the forge was lacking, truthfully— they knew some manner of what work was done in Eregion but the specifics eluded them, mainly for a lack of time. Their art was in glass and enchantments, not metallurgy. The other elf seemed well enough, though certainly a nervous sort. With careful hands they placed a mark in the ledger and set it aside on the desk, offering a smile,

“I am him, yes. And from your story I assume you to be one of the forge workers?”

As they stood they brushed out their robe and folded their hands for just a moment before gesturing for the other elf to enter proper. A precious few beds rested against the wall and it was there they directed their patient. The bedding was little more than simple white sheets and pillows but had been folded by a careful hand and arranged proper in the style of the grander halls in the West.

Elen paused, stepping back to their desk to rummage for another book. It was smaller than the ledger, thin and soft bound so they could curl the pages before they wrote. With that and their charcoal piece they sat across from the other elf and began to write; a date, a time, and a name.

“Might I have your name? And, if you are willing, could you tell me a bit more about what transpired?”

[roquenxnar]

Runilaros gaped at the assortment of plants and vials and books that already adorned the new healing ward; it was as if he'd stepped into one of his own dreams. His attention fell again to the elf tending the ward, and his breath halted. They were beautiful. Say something, fool! the voice in the back of his mind hissed.The young Avari drew a sharp breath, a hand moving to his chest as he dipped forward in a bow. "One of the forge-workers, yes," he said, before adding quickly. "I— I only clean the forges and the floors, my lord. Move crates, stoke fires... nothing of note."

The young elf made his way through the room, a spidery hand passing over the boxes of herbs, and the well-kept books stacked upon the tables he passed. His foster-clan had taught him to read, but never appreciated the words as he had— he was a foundling. He was to have no greater ambition than survive: no books, no stopping for useless study. Finally, he reached the beds. With a sigh the young man settled upon it, savoring the light scent of the linens.

Before he could fall asleep, though, the healer was beside him again. Runilaros lifted his chin as he tried to look over the top of the soft-bound book, though he settled back before his snooping became too apparent. "I am Runilaros," he said, dipping his chin. "As I said, I'm one of the forge-servants. I was going about my usual business— cleaning the billows, sweeping the floors... they wanted me to take some scrap to the smelter. I tried to lift the box, but..." A hand moved again to the back of his head. "When I stood, I fell. The crate was heavier than I am accustomed to. I meant no harm— will there be someone else to take the scrap to be smelted?"

[pxnxply]

“It is my duty from the Valar.” Ah, that old line. Yes, he would confess, an eternity building ships did grow tiresome, sometimes, when one longed to be on the ship oneself. But he was old and patient and despite his grumbles he loved his craft. “And it is good for the spirit to work with one’s hands. I like to be busy. There is something quite spectacular in watching the ship you have worked on embark on its maiden voyage. Like watch a child fledge the nest, I imagine.”

Círdan was not blind, and having once been himself a flustered youth, he suspected there was more to Seldo’s trip than he was saying. A lover he was searching for, perhaps, or one that he wished he was. 

“Is there someone important you are waiting for?”

[roquenxnar]

The young man rolled his eyes as he walked alongside the shipwright, every now and again dipping to take up a small stone to toss into the sea. "The Valar told you to build ships forever?" he asked with a scoff. "How do you know that's what they want you to do? How would you know when to stop?" Urnarseldo's nose wrinkled as he shook his head at the metaphor. "Or like throwing a rune-stone you worked so hard on into a well you can't see the bottom of, never to return again."

His father had built ships too, once, from the stories he'd been told. His parents met on these very shores, when his mother had followed after some old Noldor, seeking to shake every last bit of forgotten lore she could from them before they fled west. Had his father also liked watching his work sail into the west, into some great unknown (at least, in Seldo's mind) never to be seen again?

A deep flush rose from his neck to his ears as he looked away. "Oh, it's nobody," he began, unable to meet the older elf's gaze. He'd tried every so often, to wait around for them. It had never worked before. "It's just... I thought my Amya and Atya... I mean, Master Glorfindel came back, and they're much more important than him."

[valar-critical]

"You've got ice-cold water running through your veins." From Urnarseldo! (@roquenxnar)

cold-hearted sentences, vol. 2 || accepting || @roquenxnar

Fëanárë Curufinwë had been re-embodied for all of a month, and she was already sick of it.

Locals informed her that Imladris was as beautiful a place as existed in Endorë in the Third Age, which was deeply upsetting. It was vacation-home nice, not grand-estate nice, and certainly not city-nice. Worse, it was crawling with atani and naugrim and smaller atani at all times, along with a few familiar faces who had only grown more irritating in the 7,000 years since she had last seen them.

And then there were these...elflings. Why the Eldar had continued to reproduce in a post-apocalyptic wasteland was beyond her comprehension, but whatever the reason, Fëanárë now had to hear the musings of an elf barely past his first century.

In her mind, this was a crime tantamount to the kinslayings.

"Be grateful it is not fire, child, as once it was" she said in Quenya, knowing full well he may not be a child anymore. She called Elrond child, too. "You would not survive it." Below her hammer, a blade was slowly taking shape, but she knew the youth was likely speaking of her refusal to help the council earlier, not her quite normal forging of blades in wartime. "I take it you have a problem with my opinions."

[roquenxnar]

He'd seen the entire Council unfold from the eaves of Elrond's House, watching as men, dwarves, and elves squabbled among each other, watching them debate and come to whatever conclusion they would as to what should be done with the One Ring (Urnarseldo. for his part, thought the man with a tree on his armor had the right of it— why not throw it back at its master? Give the Enemy a taste of his own medicine?). And of course, he'd watched as Fëanárë Curufinwë, the (supposedly) greatest smith in Arda refused to help.

The ruler his great-grandfather had followed was supposedto be wise, brave, fierce... Fëanárë, by the young elf's estimation, was none of that. He'd followed after the Noldo once the council was dismissed, watching from the doorway as she'd ignited the forge, and resumed her work. Urnarseldo drew a sharp breath before he stepped into the forge, making his way to stand beside the elder. He watched for a while, his lips twisting into a frown as hammer met red-hot steel. "You've got ice-cold water running through your veins." And it was true, at least by Urnarseldo's estimation.

"I would too," he shot back. "And I am not a child, I'm seventy-five!" He looked away for a moment, taking up a bit of scrap metal, and spinning it upon the table. Something to keep his hands busy. Something to distract from all he'd heard while eavesdropping. "Your opinions," he said, sea green eyes flashing as he turned back to the elder elf, "are stupid, and selfish. This is our home! You should be helping fight for it!" With a grunt, he hopped up onto a worktable. "My great-grandfather said the ruler he followed was brave, and smart. I don't see it."

[roquenxnar]

sry for the lack of writing, pls have a shitpost apology...

[roquenxnar]

|| gonna try to get on replies for the TEs blog today but before that i need to talk about how much fun it would be for Myndi to visit Gondor. Specifically like. Dol Amroth or something. Let him visit the city!! Let him wander around the market and pick out lots of treats for his grandkids!! Let him go to the opera of my silly little headcanon!! He hasn’t seen such a big city since the second age and by god he wants to do everything. He would be ✨thriving✨.

[roquenxnar]

roquenxnar

muselist for roquenxnar.tumblr.com

woooo finished the lotr muses finally

[grobonzmemes]

Send "✦ + a question " and my muse has to answer honestly.

[roquenxnar]

I got one (1) draft done, please clap