#crablor day

[balrogballs]

círdan is concerned

happy belated @crablorday ! i was so sad i didn’t get any time to do something for the event but i made good time on work and commissions today so enjoy a quick and frankly kind of messy little illustration. if you’re worrying that the implication is that círdan is going to eat crablor, you would be absolutely correct.

thank you for running the event @thescrapwitch (and for your perpetually lovely presence on my dashboard!!!

[sesamenom]

who shall see a white ship leave the last shore

(happy belated @crablorday!)

[crablorday]

One Week Until Crablor Day!!

Mark your calendars and get your WIPs ready! Crablor Day is in ONE WEEK! 🦀🦀🦀

Details of the event can be found here. Feel free to send in questions if you have any.

SEE YOU SOON!

[arofili]

Happy Crablor Day! @crablorday He's singing the song of his people~

[hernesstepchild]

For @crablorday! Also on AO3 here

The harp is Finrod and Fingon's gift to Maglor on his begetting day a couple of years after Elrond brought him home to Eldamar. Finrod gets the idea after bringing his harp when he visits Maglor one day and sees how much Maglor seems to enjoy the music and how drawn to the instrument he still is even in crab form. When he returns home, Finrod begins collecting the smooth, weathered grey driftwood from Alqualondë's shores and assembling it into a child-sized harp. When their cousin Fingon learns of what he is doing, he wants in on the project and Finrod is happy to concentrate on the frame, carving it with the representations of sea waves and a Fëanorian star, while Fingon takes care of carving the tuning pegs, then attaching them and stringing them with brass wire that will be less likely to be accidentally cut by a sharp crab claw than the more commonly used gut strings. While they know that their cousin wouldn't be able to quite play it like he used to, the gift still feels right and it is something that he can grow into, to help him remember who he had been -- a musician, like them, the greatest one the Noldor had had. And he was growing, having already molted a few times since he had come home (smuggled aboard ship when Elrond had sailed West, tucked securely in his foster son's pocket), thriving under his family's love and care. Surely it is a good sign, they think, and hope.

The harp sounds beautiful when Maglor runs a closed claw over the strings and then carefully tries plucking them. As the vibrations shiver over his inner ears, a happiness deep as the sea wells up within him. He has no words to thank his cousins for the joy that they have returned to him, but when he finally tears himself away from the harp and skitters up to them, he finds that they are unnecessary, his feelings understood. Finrod sits down cross-legged on the ground and smiles as Maglor scurries up his leg and onto his lap, waving his claws in the air and clicking them expressively.

"You're welcome," Finrod says warmly. Fingon joins them and when he holds out his hands, Maglor climbs trustingly into them and is transferred over to Fingon's lap. Finrod hopes that one day they will all be able to sing and play together again, but for now, it is enough to see Maglor happy and with the ability to create music on the instrument that is closest to his heart.

(Crablor's little tin drum has its origins in @thescrapwitch's A Consortium of Crablors stories. He insisted I include it in his picture.)

(link to my reblog on my main account; I'll see comments/likes/reblogs quicker there but posts from there don't show up in tags or all me to tag other blogs since I wa shadowbanned.)

[analogousstructureamrod]

Don’t touch the silmaril or else you’ll end up like this

[whovianofmidgard]

A Little Pity for a Little Crab

Written for @crablorday

Inspired by this post from @winwin17

Gen Frodo & Maglor, Frodo & Gandalf Characters: Frodo, Maglor as Crablor and as Himself, Gandalf, Eönwë, Elrond, Mentioned Galadriel, Mentioned Bilbo, Various Members of the House of Finwë Alluded To

Summary: Frodo, on the shores of the Grey Havens moments from departing on the grey ship, find a sad and lonely little crab. Feeling some kinship towards it he decides to take the crab with him into the West. Only, the crab is more than just a simple crab, for it had once been... Maglor, Son of Feanor.

Snippet:

In Frodo's dreams he had heard the music of the far-off Sea, his heart moved to a bittersweet ache at the sound as close akin to the elves' Sea-Longing as his hobbit senses could reckon. It was a sound that both keenly reminded yet gently soothed the wound of his shoulder that flared up on bad days and certain calendar dates or when the weather turned. A wound that never fully healed. But very few if any hobbit at all had laid eyes, or let alone sought out, the Sea, and no dream could have prepared Frodo for its endless blue sight stretching off into the far away distance until water kissed the sky and became one, or of its sheer overwhelming might that could even make Bilbo's dragon feel small... and nor could it prepare him for its beauty.

Languidly rolling waves lapped the fine powdered shores with white tipped foam peaks that the gulls overhead dove at to dip their bright wings in and snatch silver scaled fish in their beaks. Light broke over the surface like crushed glass, glittering as gold coins scattered like rose petals carpeting the Great East Road on a late spring day, the Sun just a scant few hours from setting whose path Frodo would soon be following into the West.

The elves were making the last minute preparations before they were set to sail. Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel were conversing with Lord Círdan of such matters, and Gandalf was keeping the hobbits company while the deckhands were loading the passengers’ belongings below the ship's deck as Bilbo napped through it all in the carriage. Only... Neither Sam, Merry nor Pippin knew yet that among the luggage being hauled away was also Frodo's as well.

He'd been thinking of a way how to tell it to them all throughout the journey to the Grey Havens, but he couldn't quite find the words. How do you explain that the home you loved your whole life, the home you have gone into great peril and adversity for to save, no longer felt like home anymore? How do you explain that you no longer fit in the one place you should belong? That though the Shire and his friends were all touched by the Ring War and had changed for it; it was Frodo's own hurts and changes that prevented him from finding peace in this world?

Which was why he had sought out a bit of solitude on the white beach of the shoreline, taking every second he could before the time to depart finally came. The shushing waves and the clean salt scent of the breeze did not yield Frodo with any answers to his quandary, but it served to calm his troubled heart if even for but a moment.

Something tickled the hobbit's bare toes that was neither sand nor the lapping water. His foot already moved before Frodo perceived the tiny red creature scuttling across his toe hairs, and he accidentally knocked it on its hard-shelled back, many little legs flailing in the air.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Frodo instantly crouched, feeling remorseful for blundering over an animal much smaller than himself.

Read the rest on Ao3

[para-cera-therium]

The Legend of the Singing Crab

🦀

A little something I made for @crablorday

(story and art on Ao3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/83766351