sallysavestheday

old / friendly but rarely effervescent / Tolkien, art reblogs, micro-fics, and miscellany / header by @southaway

[a-denn]

[sa-ua]

Don’t know what the day of inktober. (University make me feel ill.) 

I make a redraw of Fingon.

Very lazy sketch. 

[arthistoryanimalia]

#ManuscriptMonday + #MusicMonday : Bagpiping piggy! 🐷🎶

Illustration in a ca. 16th c. Irish illuminated manuscript:

Dindshenchas, RIA MS D ii 2, f.34r.

Royal Irish Academy

[arthistoryanimalia]

Resharing for #NationalPigDay 🐖

[from-a-farther-room]

See also Melrose Abbey's bagpiping pig, 14th century:

[materassassino]

The implication that in the Middle Ages pigs were absolutely shredding it on the pipes

[tzitzki]

corrupted Mairon (more or less finalised sketch)

[funstealer]

Fragmented Figure (2013) by Úna Burke

[loumargi]

Alcide-Théophile Robaudi (1850-1928)

[helyannis]

like mother like daughter

Indeed this strangeness [the Naugrim] have that no Man nor Elf has ever seen a beardless Dwarf […]. For the Naugrim have beards from the beginning of their lives, male and female alike; nor indeed can their womenkind be discerned by those of other race, be it in feature or in gait or in voice

WotJ:205

[lightthereis]

Howard Pyle - Why seek ye the Living among the dead, 1905

[cy-lindric]

elf stuff

[bebs-art-gallery]

Seascape Waves (1911) by D. Howard Hitchcock | Among the Waves (2010) by George Dmitriev | Between the Waves (1898) by Ivan Aivazovsky

[huariqueje]

In the Shade of the Warm Summer Sun - Roy Wright , 2026.

British , b. 1960 -

Charcoal on paper , 95 x 135 cm. 37 3/8 x 53 1/8 in.

[huariqueje]

The awnings III - Antonio Barahona , 2026.

Spanish , b. 1984 -

Oil on wood , 90 x 60 cm.

[soluda]

[busymagpie]

As requested, Maglor with a Calico cat I think I only drew him once with my “new” design for him, but you couldn’t even see his face.. I also added two face shots because I couldn’t decide on whether he would be crying in this one or not. He’s been through so much

[polutrope]

For @celedrielweek Day 2.

Celeborn is still learning the many shades of green unveiled by the Sun. In Menegroth, the loremasters are yet busy devising and debating new names. Though the Egladhrim may scorn the pride of the elves from across the Sea, they, too, are proud, and will not adopt any word of the tongue of usurpers. 

In secret, therefore, Celeborn samples morsels of Galadriel’s language, sounding the shapes of her speech. Ezella, he murmurs, as she idly traces the line of his jaw working around the syllables – the colour, she explains, of the bright gem that rests between her breasts, facets shimmering in the sunlight with each rise and fall of her breath. The colour of the mound upon which those Trees she grieves once grew. A word borrowed, she says, from her grandmother’s kindred, to whom she owes the golden strands of her hair. 

Celeborn threads his fingers through her hair now, disbelieving that such a marvel is his to touch. He does not grieve the loss of a light he never knew, for it is here with him, resplendent and alive. 

Yet, he promises himself, he will never allow his sight to forget the subtle gradients of deep, starlit greens into which he was born. When next the Moon forgets to rise, it will be Celeborn’s turn to teach his beloved new words for colours she has yet to see.

[ouiouhie]

nocturne

[rootlessly]

ocracoke, 18 may