#arlenianchronicles

[jackimer]

In love with @arlenianchronicles eldritch au, so I tried to do a Secret of Kells style kidnap fam with @joetamy 's color scheme (it ended up a little more Charley Harper). I love them they are so Shaped.

[laerthel]

Of Estel and Amdir

TRSB 2025 Collab piece for Slide 137 with @arlenianchronicles || check out the wonderful full arts here || for @tolkienrsb

Title: Of Estel and Amdir | Rating: Teen and up | Warnings: Major Character Death | Relationships: Elros & Maedhros | Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Elros, Elrond | Word count: 8387

When sleep finally claims him, he dreams of the sword and the wind as it laps on the tent like waves in an unforgiving seastorm, crashing against the shores of faraway lands. It is a frightening dream, and it seems very real: the ground cracks around their piteous camp, the earth grumbles and roars. Deep fissures run along the woods and beyond the seas like a cobweb of dark chasms, liquid fire gushing forth from some of them as if Arda itself was weeping from the core. The Sea is furious, too: waves tower above the land like blue mountains of wrath and they crash against hills and trees and rivers and settlements with the power of a thousand battering rams. The whole world is burning, weeping, breaking, drowning; fire and water swallows it at the same time, and the only thing that remains is death.

And then, Elros sees it.

The waves slacken, the clouds roll away and the air is cleared; and above the mists of the dead world of old appears an island in the distance, with a great white city and a sharp-peaked mountain above.

The next moment, or maybe a thousand years later, Elros stands atop that mountain, and looks down. Eagles roam in the narrow chasms below him, the City sparkles like it is said of Elvenhome, and the sea-foam glitters like stars along the shores.

It is his City: he knows it in his bones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fortnight after the Third Kinslaying, Elros starts to realize that his captors are either complete dullards, or they do not truly care if they live or die. Rescued unexpectedly by the leader of their party—who may or may not be a dragon in an Elf's skin—he is swept into a lifelong debate about the nature of hope. But who shall win—and at what cost?

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

This one was an absolute pleasure (and challenge) to write 🩷 and also a "back to the roots" kind of feeling to me, because - fun fact - my first ever published fic on Ao3 was a Kidnap Family one, too, but focusing more on Elrond and Maglor instead of Elros and Maedhros, so now we've come full circle:)

>> click here for the fic if you can't see the Ao3 thumbnail for some reason <<

[altairattorney]

[SEKIRO] Welcome back.

Five years ago, Wolf left his role as Kuro's shinobi to serve Genichiro Ashina, under the pressure of a terrible secret. Even in his endless battle against the Interior Ministry, he has never forgotten the weight of his choice. Now, after overhearing an intense conversation between Isshin and Genichiro, he has forsaken it all again - to beg his former lord for forgiveness, and plead for him to take him back...

This story is a scene from an AU that @arlenianchronicles and I are sort of building together, inspired by a conversation we were having about Genichiro's character. We are still defining many details of it, but this scene was so emotional and I wanted to write it so bad! This scene takes place around five years after what would have been the beginning of the canon game - not Hirata, but the very start.

Welcome back.

The shinobi passage to Ashina Castle had been abandoned for years when Wolf crossed it again.

The corridor seemed to be so much smaller, its darkness like smoke clouding his breathing. The moonless night outside had felt as oppressive in the summer heat. Everything around him hung heavily on his heart - and it was nothing, no doubt, compared to the conversation that would come.

Though his journey to the castle had felt unending, it was over long before he felt prepared for it. The shinobi door revolved as seamlessly as ever, and he was hit with a familiar scent of incense, something his memory had never let go of.

Kuro had not noticed his arrival yet. He was staring at the window, perhaps expecting him to come from there. Wolf's throat tightened at the thought of how different he looked - he was no less slender and delicate than before, but so tall now, so grown in the time of their forced separation.

For just a second, he let his emotions flood in. He felt rage - rage towards Genichiro's desperation, cruelty, relentlessness - yet, above all, he felt guilt. He had little else to blame but himself. That thought, with the shame it brought along, grounded him enough to proceed.

Wolf knelt, took a deep breath, and spoke words he had not uttered sincerely in five years.

"My lord."

Kuro turned around much faster than he would have expected. The silence, however - the silence that stretched between them, heavy and cold, for endless seconds - that was unbearable. The expression painted on Kuro's delicate features was too complex to interpret.

Unable to look at him further, Wolf lowered his head and waited for him to speak.

"Wolf," he finally said. "It has been a long time."

"Yes, my lord."

When he had the heart to look again, Wolf saw something in Kuro's eyes that was terribly familiar. A mixture of grief, deep as a spring, and blazing anger.

"I am not your lord anymore."

The bitterness of those words felt like poison. Well aware of their truth as he was, Wolf had not once felt anything but regret for his decision. No matter how deeply he pushed back against it, he had felt it every time - with every wound, every bloodbath, every resurrection, all in the name of a master who did not care for anyone or anything but his land.

He certainly did not care for anything that happened to him, Wolf caught himself thinking, both surprised and ashamed by the idea. And yet.

It was so different. It could have been so different.

But now was not the time to hesitate, as someone had told him before arranging their meeting.

"Nonetheless, I have something I need to tell you," Wolf said. "I humbly ask that you listen to me."

"Listen to what?" Kuro asked, his gaze shifting to the side. "I thought you had nothing left to talk to me about."

Wolf's heart sunk so deep, he feared it would never see the light again. Even so, he did not have the luxury to show weakness. He had to be strong, stronger than ever before, for the sake of them both.

"It is not so, my lord."

A glint of curiosity - of hope? - showed in Kuro's eyes but for a moment. Still, his anger was growing, in a way Wolf had never seen before.

"You have no right to call me that! Stop it at once!"

"Yes, my lord. I-"

Kuro's mouth opened ever so slightly.

"...I apologize."

Wolf lowered his head once more, unsure of how to recover from such a deeply offensive mistake. Retreated in his own thoughts, he was unable to read what Kuro was going through. His distance, perhaps, was burying it all - disappointment, sadness, a fierce touch of affection.

"Well then," the boy said, after a deep sigh. "I will listen to what you have to say, and then you will take your leave at once."

Relieved, Wolf met Kuro's gaze again, and found it at once devastated and much softer.

"I don't... I-"

Wolf breathed in, summoning the greatest courage he had needed to gather in a long time. Never had he been as scared, as pained, as that night five years before - the night of his choice, of his biggest betrayal.

"I do not wish to leave you again."

Stunned at the boldness of the shinobi's statement, Kuro took a step back. Wolf would have given anything to sound sincere; and he knew he was, more than he had ever been in his life. But the young lord had by now suffered from years of loneliness, and all the deep emotions in his heart were reaching a boiling point.

"You don't?" Kuro asked, cynical. "You seemed perfectly alright with doing so when lord Genichiro asked you to."

"I wasn't."

Against his own instincts, Wolf stood up and took a few steps forward. He wanted so much to explain, to tell him the truth, and yet-

Danger. He would have put him in ever more danger.

The same exact thought that stopped him all those years calmed him down, and he knelt again.

Kuro had remained where he was. His voice, however - his voice sounded so soft, so fragile, when he spoke next.

"You still did."

Wolf stared intensely at the floor beneath him, and then, without warning, felt his eyes sting. Oh no, this was not the time. Not again. It was time to accept it all, the consequences of his actions.

Nonetheless, he had sworn to himself he would remain honest.

"Lord Kuro, I know I am at fault," he said, though saying it out loud made it hurt more than it ever had. "It was my mistake. It is my burden to bear. But I- please, you have to believe what I say - I would never have chosen to do what I did."

It would not fix things. It would never have. But this was about the future, not the past.

Wolf's heart skipped a beat when he looked at Kuro again, and he found his eyes to be full of fresh tears.

"Why then?"

Kuro closed the distance between them, his steps now so heavy on the wooden planks. Though he had just asked him a question, Wolf sensed it would be best not to speak. It was his time to let it all out to him, to have Wolf listen, for the first time in so long.

"Five years I have spent here, all alone," Kuro said, pointing at the serenity of the room around them. "Five years of seeing the world fall apart around me. Unable to help, unable to stop the war. Unable to know... to know anything of you, of what of how you were doing. Nothing but the scraps lord Genichiro was merciful enough to throw at me. And you? You never showed your face once. You never told me anything. How am I supposed to believe what you are saying?"

Though his tears were falling now, little streams from his long lashes, he had not lost an inch of his dignity or coherence. Even now, so helplessly trapped at the point of no return, Wolf thought himself powerless to calm him down.

"You abandoned me," Kuro said, with all the hurt he had felt that night years before. "I do not care to know anything more than that. Please leave at once."

Wolf did not obey.

It was now or never, he realized that. The empty threats of his captor did not, could not work on him any longer. Fighting against all of his fears, the shinobi decided it was time to end this.

He extended his arm, hoping Kuro would remember the familiar gesture - how often they had taken each other's hand, in silent comfort.

"My lord..."

"I AM NOT-!"

"He was going to kill you."

Everything stopped.

Kuro's teary eyes widened in disbelief. Wolf watched him intently, as his blurted out words echoed in his mind.

"He said... if I did not serve him... he would take your life," Wolf admitted at last, a lead weight of sadness melting in his chest. The sting in his eyes was getting stronger.

Might as well let it go.

"Wolf," Kuro said softly, in shock. "You know very well I can't..."

"Such a blade exists. He has it."

For the first time in years, Wolf let his eyelids fall closed, and two fresh tears ran down his cheeks. In other times, he never would have dared. But this was about Kuro, and he had a right to know.

So many times Wolf had cried, unable to show it to anyone. After so many missions. After Genichiro had cornered him, longing for his immortality. And after that night - the night he would never forgive himself for.

He did not have the strength to hide, not now.

For a brief moment, overwhelmed by humiliation, Wolf was tempted to run. He planned a myriad of moves in a second - how he would apologize, he would leave, he would try to forget this night as well.

But nothing, not even a lifetime of training, could have prepared him for Kuro's response.

The young lord also fell to his knees, and Wolf watched him, through tears, throw his arms around his neck. His arms felt so different now, after such a long time. He was taller, stronger, more determined than ever.

"My Wolf," he sobbed, burying his face in the shinobi's shoulder. "My loyal Wolf."

In an instant, Wolf felt the terror and shame of many years multiply tenfold, and then melt away like snow in the sun. His calling was, after all, what he had longed to do since the beginning; to protect and comfort him.

With a timid gesture, like a flower opening up in the morning light, he raised his arms to encircle the boy's frame. It was as if a miracle of air and light were flooding into his heavy heart. It felt so good, so natural, to hold Kuro to him.

Smothered by that feeling, his fear and doubts died.

This was the right path for him.

The young lord's sobs slowly calmed down, and he regained the ability to speak.

"I always hoped..." he said, perfectly still into his comfortable spot. "I always wished you would come back. I wished you had never left. I was so alone... I have always been, without you."

"My lord," Wolf called, still holding him close. He could barely believe what he was hearing; nonetheless, patiently, he listened.

"I am not as strong as you are, Wolf," Kuro whimpered. "To think... he would do that to you. To use me... to use you... that way."

"It's alright," Wolf said, tenderly. "I have returned now."

Kuro said nothing, and only then moved back to look at his shinobi. Wolf's face was the one he always knew and loved, yet somehow changed - with a shine to it, a relaxed light, free of worry for the first time in his life.

There was so much to be furious about, Wolf thought. He should have been humiliated, hurt, punished. Instead, his lord was holding him with a warmth he had never dreamed of in his life.

And that, he supposed, was what made all the difference.

Wolf saw the boy smile, as he lifted one hand to touch his beloved shinobi's cheek.

"You really are not leaving, are you?"

"No, my lord," Wolf promised, dead serious.

It was true. And because of it, they were in so much danger. There would be so much to mend, to discuss, to plan. Even so, none of it seemed to matter at that moment.

Kuro sighed, then laughed, then embraced him again.

"That's the Wolf I know," he said. "Welcome back."

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

Hello! Hope y'all are doing well! <33 I was sketching Beren and Luthien from the AU recently, and I was wondering - how would Beren sign his letters to Luthien? Would he avoid putting his name down just in case the letters are caught by someone else? If that were the case, I imagine he'd include something else in place of his name that only she would recognize XD Also, if this has already been answered in one of the fic installments, my apologies! ^^;;

TolkienGirl here, sorry for the belated reply! It is always a thrilling development when you're sketching AUT things :)

As for Beren's letters, I think he often dictated his letters to Finrod (Finrod says as much in Pharmakos Chapter XXVII), and presumably in the time Finrod wasn't available to him he had someone else write for him, among the Haladin (the implication is that Beren was more confident in speaking English than writing it). Haleth herself has been the one to pass any missives to Luthien, but probably also passed messages directly rather than in print. So I would say that Beren might have made some sort of mark or signature, but considering that his communications were always in other friendly hands (not directly the product of his own writing), they might not always be signed anyway. Co-authors feel free to add... to me, in sum, a personal mark seems most likely if anything.

[silmarillionwritersguild]

This week, we are thrilled to introduce our newest newsletter column, Tolkien Fanartics, which will focus on everything that is art-related to do with Tolkien. For the inaugural article, the column's lead writer, @anerea-lantiria, had the chance to chat with the artist @arlenianchronicles (Cassandra) about her artwork, her approach to her work, and her journey to becoming an artist.

If you've spent any time in the #silmarillion tag on Tumblr, you've seen Cassandra's art: its vivid, luminous quality fairly leaps from the screen, and her willingness to tackle some of the most emotionally fraught scenes in the legendarium gives her work a narrative quality that invites contemplation of the stories and relationships behind her characters. You can read Anérea's interview with ArlenianChronicles here.

P.S. If you don't get our weekly email newsletter, you can subscribe here. Each week's edition includes fanworks added to the SWG that week, SWG news, and a rundown on ongoing events around the Tolkien fandom ... and of course our regular columns like Tolkien Fanartics!

[abadpoetwithdreams]

As a thank u to @arlenianchronicles here is a quick ballpoint attempt at drawing their cute tiny Elrond, I’d love to do a proper stab at a dtiys in future but for now this must suffice ❤️

[arlenianchronicles]

Whelp, looks like it’s time for another art vs artist! As this year comes to a close, I find that I’ve moved away from the Silmarillion and dipped my toes in other stories, through these have mostly been small fixations that linger only for some time.

Even though I’ve gotten rather quiet on this blog, I haven’t disappeared yet! Thank you so much to those who have stuck around; this is one of those times when I regret moving my non-Tolkien fanart to sideblogs, but hey, maybe the next year will bring a bit of Silmarillion inspiration with it!

I hope y’all have some wonderful holidays, and a wonderful new year! <333

[aldarquen]

My contribution to both @feanorianweek and @arlenianchronicles DTIYS; Maedhros and little Elrond. I love how this tall, scary warcriminal ended up being a loving foster father. Quality of it turned out rough (scanner really changed to look of it) but I’m glad to get back into drawing Elves.