#fountainmisuse

[arradil]

Cousin! How are you! It's been absolutely ages and you're always busy and...wait, are you avoiding me?

No! No. Um, no. Why would I do that? I don’t have any reason to do that, do I? I don’t think so... Um, unless you mean about - but no. No?

[lordofthegoldenflower]

"If I have to eat seal meat one more time I'm going to dive into the sea," Ecthelion muttered, entirely too absorbed in his unwanted supper to notice that someone else could hear him.

Glorfindel could not help but laugh at the muttered statement by the young elf, and crouched down by his side. “At least when we have seal someone gets a new warm cloak and we can use their fat to make oil for our lamps. Then we have light to lift our hearts with hope,” he pointed out with a smile. “And it is better than eating nothing.”

@fountainmisuse

[easterlingwanderer]

♦❅

Useless Details Ask Meme II - Accepting

♦ any tattoos? where? what’s the story behind them?

Nope! Scars, yes, but no tattoo. In my verse with @artaresto‘s Orodreth he has a brand with Orodreth’s house symbol on his chest though. It is a long story. He loves it.

❅ what do they usually wear when they’re not working?

A lot of people are interested about the Wanderer -lack of- fashion. Same things as when he is working tbh. Shirt. Pants. Boot. He is vaguely aware there are other kind of clothes but idk. They sound fake.

[the-last-feanorian]

Ecthelion feels…less than overjoyed to be winding his way through the Feanorian encampment, though technically speaking they are all allies again these days. Still, his back is up, and he feels as if everyone he stops and asks for directions is watching him too closely for comfort.

He finally reaches the right part of the camp, and hails the first person he sees. “Ho, there! Can you tell me where to find Tyelperinquar Curufinwion?”

... 

Tyelperinquar took off his thick leather gloves and stepped out of his hastily set up smithy. Really he was much more suited to finer more delicate smith work than ironwork but in the middle of a centuries long war he had little choice. He longed for peaceful days when he could make things of beauty and splendor, and throw himself into the wonders of engineering for a better, brighter future. Until then, beating on iron was his fate.  At the mention of his name amidst the many quendi he perked up his ears. “I am Tyelperinquar Curufinwion,” he says to the stranger, his dusky silver eyes searching him, his face vaguely familiar. 

@fountainmisuse