#alkarinqque

[arofili]

@oneringnet valentine’s exchange ⚝ AEGNOR x ANDRETH ⚝ for @alkarinqque <3

    ‘I desire neither. I was young and I looked on his flame, and now I am old and lost. He was young and his flame leaped towards me, but he turned away, and he is young still. Do candles pity moths?’      ‘Or moths candles, when the wind blows them out?’ said Finrod.

[kenobiapologist]

I just began playing swtor and uuuh maybe ended up only playing for the bad side but I want to try the Republic too! But idk which ones of the Republic stories are good (I'm playing imp agent and warrior atm, and the first set the bar high), any suggestions?? Of course it differs from person to person, but I'm interested in your opinion!

I haven’t played them all so I can’t rank them fairly 🙈 but here’s my opinion anyway

So I really loved the Sith Warrior story, I kind of flew through that one. (I haven’t played imp agent because I just want to swing a lightsaber around whenever I can) Dark Side characters are so fucking fun and there’s so much to explore in terms of the lore. The journey is more emotional and riveting with Darksiders imo.

Jedi Knight can be kind of basic, but I’ve had a great time choosing the dark side options. It makes everything hilarious. I smacked some npc in the face for being a coward, and it was so out of the blue, I just died laughing. 10/10 would recommend for that alone.

Jedi Consular is what I’ve played as the most, and the slower pace helped me out when I was just starting. If you’d played for awhile, the first act might be boring. But the male Consular has some top tier sassy dialogue that makes diplomatic situations enjoyable instead of a slog. And it does feel like a true Jedi story. As an Obi-Wan stan, I appreciated the focus on being a hero by negotiation and not just by “thinking with my lightsaber.”

My only complaint with Consular was that my attempts to romance Tharan Cedrax were shot down and I’ll never be okay with that. I love that man so much.

I tried to be a smuggler once but it didn’t really grab me. That being said, force users are my favorite so I’m biased ✨

[essenceofarda]

Why not Theodwyn or Eomund for the ask meme? If they are too obscure characters/you have no hcs for them, then Eowyn and Faramir?

Oh! I’ll do all four if you don’t mind :)

Theodwyn and Eomund: Theodwyn was a wild filly when she was young, but matured as she got older (she never was rid of that wild spirit of hers tho). She wears the pants in the family re: her relationship with Eomund 😆 

She was pregnant when Eomund died, and due to stress/grief/subsequent complications with the pregnancy died along with her unborn child. (which is why i also headcanon Éomer as very nervous whenever Lothíriel is pregnant bc he’s remembers losing his mother dying while pregnant).

I don’t have a picture of her doodled out and read to post rn but I headcanon Theodwyn as half middle eastern on her mother (Morwen)’s side. Or the Middle Earth equivalent of half Middle Eastern.

Éowyn: This is so difficult to answer bc i have so many for both her and Faramir! Like her mother, she was a wild filly as a child. She always went barefoot as a child. She also learned to ride a horse before she learned to run. When she was a very little toddler she was convinced she was going to marry Theodred when she grew up (in that way little kids think they’re obviously going to marry their parents or big siblings cause they don’t understand romance/etc yet haha). She’s bisexual. She quickly in her teen years became withdrawn due to the unwelcome and predatory advances of Wormtongue. She suffered from depression for most of her teenage years and all of her adulthood until after the war of the ring. She also suffers from seasonal affective disorder afterwards, so she periodically has bouts of lowered mood and energy, but not necessarily depression. She’s very fond of Lothíriel and (disclaimer: this is my OWN bisexuality influencing this headcanon probably haha) but in another setting she might have fallen in love with Lothíriel. Her first child was a stillborn. I imagine her and Faramir having a daughter before Elboron by a few years. Gosh there’s too many headcanons to list out right now haha. Due to her mother being half Middle Eastern, I imagine that Éowyn and Éomer are a 1/4 Middle Eastern, though they look stereotypically Rohirrim (blonde hair, light eyes and while they can tan easily they are naturally pale skinned). She breastfed her children which was frowned upon in upper class Gondorian society but she was firm in upholding many aspects of Rohirrim culture.

Faramir: Faramir i have a lot of headcanons for as well. I picture him as part Middle Eastern/Central Asian and predominantly South Asian (in fact, the ideal casting for him would probably be a Pakistani/Indian actor). He’s very devoted to Éowyn in every way (wait...that’s canon haha). Like pretty much everyone after the war of the ring he has pretty bad PTSD. But not from his father, save only the way his father died (as a book fan I’m rather against PJ’s Bad!Father Denethor). He likes his women to be fierce and not upholding to expectations of “what is appropriate for a lady to act like” due to his mother (Finduilas) being of Dol Amroth, and the ladies of Dol Amroth were/are notoriously gender nonconforming. So Éowyn is a perfect fit for him :)

Okay, that’s a lot of text so I’ll stop here for now!

Thanks so much for the question!! :D

[elesianne]

Alright so I first thought Tuile/Caranthir because that's my usual, but let's try 45 and Curufin instead!! And congrats on 400 followers!!

I took this opportunity to write about Curufinwë enjoying the wine at his coming-of-age celebration rather too liberally, an incident that Carnistir mentioned in an early chapter of Your spirit calling out to mine.

Carnistir insisted that he have the POV but, umm, I hope that this is enough about Curufinwë anyway? The prompt line is “How much of that did you hear?”

This is very quickly written, I might clean it up later and post on AO3 too.

*

Noldorin red - 808 words

'I'm not his keeper', Carnistir protests, but because it is his mother asking, he sighs and does as he's asked and goes looking for his little brother.

Typical of Curufinwë to draw even more attention to himself, not to mention their mother's worry, by disappearing while his coming-of-age celebration is still in full swing. Carnistir searches the feast hall first, but Curvo's not there, of course not. Their mother would have found him if he was.

He looks into each of the side chambers, glad of his height that allows him to just about see over most people's heads, but there is no sign of Curvo's obnoxiously crimson-clad figure there either.

He moves into the surrounding hallways.

'You', he barks at a passing servant. 'Have you seen prince Curufinwë? The younger.'

'No, my lord, I –’, the man begins.

Another servant pipes up, 'I saw him in the long gallery not long ago. Prince Tyelkormo, too.'

Carnistir goes there, then, half-annoyed and half-relieved at having to walk all around the palace on his mother's errand. He is annoyed at Curvo – but to be honest with himself, he must admit that he wasn't having that good of a time himself, and perhaps looking for Curvo is as good a use of his time as he could hope for right now. His friend Ontamo went home already, and Makalaurë has been too busy with his group of musicians to talk with Carnistir.

As Carnistir approaches the long gallery – a large room whose walls are covered in paintings and tapestries, many of the latter made by Carnistir's grandmother – he hears voices through the open door.

'Come on, Curvo, don't be grumpy', says Tyelko's amused voice, and, 'Give me that bottle, idiot. You've had quite enough.'

'No, I haven't, you've had just as much.'

Carnistir snorts at Curufinwë's petulant voice. How amusing that Curvo should turn out to be a lightweight with alcohol.

He's at the door of the gallery, about to step into the room, when he hears Curufinwë continue, morose, 'I should be more like Moryo. I don't mind parties, you know I don’t, Tyelko, but I do mind being introduced to about a hundred people when I want to celebrate with those people I already know.'

Curvo belches, and Carnistir grimaces. He can see two pairs of legs sticking out on the floor from behind a fat-bellied cabinet.

He hesitates in the door, undecided on whether he wants to go in or stay and listen or turn on his heel and leave.

While he still hesitates, Curufinwë continues his drunken rant.

'No one tries to introduce Moryo to anyone anymore.' Curvo manages to slur every single word. 'They know that he's hopeless, he'll just growl at them if they try to make conversation that's not about, about the best kind of stone or drawing building plans or something – something like that.' Carnistir's ire is abated by Curufinwë's addition of, 'Something sensible. None of this nonsense today.'

There is a second of silence, and then Tyelko's voice warning, 'If you throw up, I will not clean it up.'

'Yes you would', Curvo mumbles, 'I'm your favourite.'

'And don't you know and exploit that', Tyelko sighs. 'Come on. Up you get. We'll find some way to sneak out without anyone seeing.'

'We should ask bloody Moryo', Curvo grumbles. 'He often manages to leave parties early without anyone noticing. And he calls me sneaky.'

Carnistir rolls his eyes. Curvo is sneaky.

'Come on, Curvo', says Tyelko again, exasperated.

Carnistir steps into the gallery and walks to his brothers with swift strides.

'Come on, Curvo', he repeats. 'Let's get you out before you embarrass the whole family.'

Curufinwë, who has just managed to get himself to his feet, flails with an uncharacteristic lack of grace and would probably fall if not for Tyelko's iron grip on his arm.

'How much of that did you hear?' Curvo is remarkably pale for someone so drunk.

'More than you'd like', Carnistir replies, and adds, 'You should stick to the honey-wine. Leave the Noldorin red for real adults.'

Curufinwë protests instantly. 'The honeyed wine is Vanyarin!'

Carnistir smirks. 'It's clearly all you can handle.'

He takes Curufinwë's other arm, and together he and Tyelko steer barely-on-his-feet Curvo towards the other end of the gallery. Carnistir knows a route through there that will take them to a side door that leads to the stables.

Even so, they happen to pass lady Maquetimië on their way out. She is one of the worst gossipmongers of the court. From the way her eyes light up as she recognises and greets the three of them, Curvo still help up between Carnistir and Tyelko, Carnistir knows that the drunken state of the king's grandson will be the foremost rumour of tomorrow.

Carnistir doesn't feel as bad about it as he probably should.

[princess-faelivrin]

I'm trying to find inspiration about Fingon to continue a wip, so what do you think are his flaws and his strengths? How rash is he actually? Fandom tends to make him very reckless, yet canon also calls him steadfast (kind of? "His valour was steadfast as the hills of stone") and I'm shifting between the two and can't decide. And yeah, I just sent this spontaneously because I saw you were bored

HMMM well I don’t truly know Fingon (or any of the popular characters ngl) all that well, but I’ll do my best

I think... Fingon has the capacity to be a steadfast and thought-out ruler, but the reason he seems so rash sometimes is because the moments that are focused on esp in fandom are moments in which he is driven by love or loyalty or w/e rather than logic

So like, he can be smart and responsible and often is, but personal loyalties are above that, which I guess is a flaw of his depending on which way you look at it. If that makes sense?

Also he’s a lot more optimistic than most silm characters and his charisma stat is like maxed out so he can just.... do things? that others wouldn’t even think of doing, let alone succeeding in.

[absynthe--minded]

OH WAIT if you have already got one about Andreth, Aegnor and Finrod, what about perhaps Elros and Elrond? Or Elros and Eärendil?

(I am doing this in a particular order - I wasn’t going to, and then I got all these lovely prompts in more or less a sort of story? So.)

The end was nigh, and the dead were coming back.

He knew it before any other of his kindred did - not only did Eönwë tell him, he could see them, emerging newly-enfleshed from the Halls as true siblings to the Firstborn. He could see everything, more or less, and it was a blessing and a curse as ever it had been. But there was still time for joy before the end of all things and the beginning - there was always time for joy, his wife said, even in the midst of greatest sorrow - and he was joyful that so many of the people of his heart were returning to life. 

“Things will be changing,” he told Elwing at breakfast that next morning, and she could not help but notice the nervous tremor in his voice.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“The Dagor Dagorath draws near, meleth-nîn,” he explained, and took another sip of tea. “Those who can fight are being called back.”

Elwing grew quiet, and there was an expression on her face that was at once ecstatic and frightened; he wondered if there was a similar look mirrored in his own eyes. They had been alone, more or less, for thousands of years - she had not sought to mingle with her own family, even when Thingol was returned to life and made his home in the great forests beyond Tirion, and his duties meant that he was indisposed for much of the time that his own relatives would have used to seek out his company. Idril wrote to him often, as did Tuor, and Elrond had come twice to visit them for incredibly awkward afternoon tea, but they were isolated as much by design as by chance.

Now, though…

The knock on the door took him by surprise, and startled Elwing out of her own deep thoughts, and the both of them nearly spilled their tea in their surprised flinching. The sight of his wife, normally so reserved and dignified, struggling valiantly to keep from sloshing asëa all over her pale pink gown was enough to make him laugh. And laugh he did, rising from the hand-carved wooden chair he always sat in and making his way to the door of their tower. 

“We never have visitors,” Elwing said from her own seat. “Who is it?”

“I do not know,” he answered, and a prickle of anxiety stabbed up from his core, and he glanced out the window into the garden. He couldn’t see anyone from where he stood, but if it was just one person and they were directly before the door, that was to be expected. He wondered, for a moment, if he ought to pretend they weren’t at home - but that was ridiculous. What am I afraid of? he thought, frowning. What am I anticipating?

The same thing I am, Elwing replied, and she threaded herself through their marriage-bond and lent him resolve to quiet the fear that was bleeding out into both of them.

Eärendil took a deep breath and opened the door.

Standing in their garden, draped in an embroidered shirt and tight-fitting leggings cut in the Númenorean fashion, was a dark-haired mortal Man. He was tall - taller than Eärendil, certainly, though that was not hard - and silver-eyed, and broad-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard. He was built like a laborer, a shipbuilder.

“Hello, Atya,” he said quietly. Eärendil realized that there were tears in his eyes.

“Who is it?” Elwing asked again, and when he did not answer he could hear her rising from her chair.

“Me, Ammë,” Elros Tar-Minyatur answered, peering over his father’s shoulder to smile at his mother. “Hopefully I am not an entirely unwanted surprise.”

For a moment she frowned at him in confusion, but then something snapped into place behind her eyes, and Elwing gave a cry of shock and joy and sudden keen grief at might-have-beens. She tripped over her skirts in her mad dash for the door, and Eärendil barely had time to get out of her way before she had thrown herself at their son. Her arms went about his shoulders, and she was already sobbing, and Elros put one arm around her and reached the other out to his father. Eärendil stepped in close, letting his son drape his arm over him, and returned the embrace. 

“I am - I am so glad - !” he began, but words failed him, and he found he, too, could only weep.

[perkynurples]

Y’ALL they kissed in the line of duty and I just about DIED?????

didn’t think I’d be feeling like this about a hetero ship ever again to be honest, and like the amount of complex female characters??? the backstories??? the plot twists?? yes THE CLOTHES??? IM DIE

[vardasvapors]

Imagine the culture clashes in the beginning of Aragorn and Arwen's reign. This elf (alright, kind of) just showing up and marrying the love of her life and then she's queen?? Suddenly surrounded by all these mortals?? I mean, what is human court etiquette?

I mean, i TEND to think along the lines of ‘suddenly the Great Evil Dude Next Door who’s been a stable fixture of our day-to-day lives and the organization of our society and identity for ages is no longer there’ is so big a change to Gondor that the other changes get kind of drowned out, but like, comparing the etiquette of greeting strangers in Gondor from ROTK and the etiquette of greeting strangers in Rivendell from the Hobbit…..uhhh. Also like, ‘oh hey this tapestry about Arvedui’s dickery and misadventures is all wrong lol, I knew him–’

on the OTHER other hand, i wonder if anyone’s written a fic where arwen, like aragorn in canon, was also like “shit if i’m going to be ruler of gondor possibly i should GO AND CHECK OUT WHAT GONDOR IS LIKE THESE DAYS OR SOMETHING???” and disguised herself as some Suspiciously Beautiful Court Chambermaid under denethor??? i would read the shit out of that.