Maglor remembered how Maitimo waited for a reaction to the barb, any reaction, but once again Ulfang’s face had taken on the comforting placidity from before, so impenetrably indifferent that the beholder heaved a relieved sigh. It was better, though less amusing, than the look of self-important superiority hanging from his brow, the derisive snort he’d given when Curufinwë explained how the name Maitimo had come about, the high-pitched bark before he delivered: the innards of the coconut fruit only feel cool and soothing on the hottest of days. When the air itself is cool and pleasant, there is a staleness to the fruit, do you not think? On an unrelated note, I hear that inbreeding amongst the Noldor puts the humble cheetah to shame.
Oddly enough, the one Ulfang got along best with was Tyelkormo, and though Curufinwë elucidated at length about reasons involving wild animals, barbarians and tiger-tamers, Maglor was of the opinion that Ulfang enjoyed how Tyelkormo made no secret of his utter revulsion towards the chieftain and his host.
Drawn across a two day hyperfixation fuelled entirely by spite after seeing this guy represented in a ‘Tolkien companion book’ as the most fuckass racist caricature I have ever seen in my life. Words from my WIP fic, The Ambush of a New Past which looks at the Easterlings and the Haradrim through the Ages of Arda, where Ulfang is a tiny, somewhat snobby little guy with a superiority complex and a hobby of making it very clear to every single elf he speaks to (including Maedhros, whom he has taken to his bed) that he is 100% going to betray them and insinuating that it is in fact entirely the fault of that specific individual. My miniscule manipulator 🥰
commission details etc | also featuring @peasant-player pattern on sash and cloak
