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// After so many years, I remembered this blog and all the marvelous times I had on it, and I miss them desperately. Anyone from the old group of RP’ers I used to write with still around? o.O

#out of the forge #nihthelm #oathsayer #curufinwefeanaro #[coming back is like hibernating through the zombie apocalypse haha]#[hoping against hope you've all just moved to other blogs but for some reason occasionally check your old ones]#underoakandbeech #valiantfindekano

me: tries to reply to a BANTER starter from @nihthelm (it’s only a 1 para banter starter lads!!)

me, instead, 3 goddamn hours later: has reread their entire 14 pages of headcanons and still hasn’t stopped literally tearing up over this one passage

But perhaps it would have happened no matter what, no matter if we had chosen trust or not. They have said there was, in truth, no way we could ever have prevailed. Seven sons is still not enough to face down a god whom even the gods must fight together. Seventy sons and seven would not be enough; seven hundred and seven—!

But damn his eyes, at least we tried. And of that, I will always be proud, no matter how long I haunt these web-hung Halls.

Because, as is very obvious by now, I’m a useless extra NERD and I love the FEANORIANS because they TRIED!!! KATY!!!!

#watch me spend all morning trying to write 1 small paragraph of text #/ooc/#nihthelm #anyway.... lets try AGAIN shall we???

trick or treat 🎃 (not accepting)

@nihtwulf / ( @nihthelm )

#nihtwulf #nihthelm #halloween gifts.#[I started crying midway through making this edit]

@nihthelm

Fëanáro and his wife had come late to the Amphiteatrum Flavium, when the light of day had begun mingling with the shadows. When the sun had sunk in the heavens, red as the mouth of a great furnace, casting shadows on the streets, shadows on the arena.

In that hour, the greatest warriors measured themselves against each other or against beasts, dripping sweat and dripping blood upon the hungry sand. What they drew with bitter steel, the smell of clashing swords and flesh rose to the higher terraces, fey and enticing. Fëanáro ate no mortal food, tasted no hesperidean cider, no wine of fair Campania. What was a stench to the nose of the public awoke in him the instinct for an ancient hunt.

Looking down at the battling men, Nerdanel said: « This one fights curiously. I have not seen any move thus. »

The man she observed was dark of hair, fell of movement, like the wolf that is stalked by death, like the night.

« Interesting », she said also. « It should make this barbaric entertainment bearable. »

Fëanáro did not answer.

Like horses who had won a race, the gladiators were later brought into the patrician house of their sponsor and owner, so that their wounds may be admired, their prowess paraded, their worth reevalued. Fëanáro oft left such parties early, taking little pleasure in the exchange of greetings, of pleasantries; for, despite immortality, time was made of gold, and as such should not be wasted.

The warrior Nerdanel had seen stood straight with the pride and unfriendliness of wrought iron. Fëanáro knew such facial features as hailing from lands farther east than the city where he had first opened his eyes to the sun. That ruddy complexion of his appeared as if Nerdanel herself had gifted it to him.

Fëanáro walked in front of the two matrons who looked at the gladiators with wary appetite.

« My wife thought that your way of killing was curious », he said, and just like an almost raw piece of meat was skewered on a pointy little piece of metal for him to nib at, so did his eyes stare at the victorious slave. « Where do you come from? »

#nihthelm #thread.#v: the blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.

you know who'd ADORE someone like cassandra pentaghast? if you answered "caranthir feanarion," you were correct.

why, funny that you mention this, katy – methinks i have a friend who writes him…………… 👀

#asdhlfdfas #nihthelm #ooc.

@nihthelm

One thing the priestess was absolutely certain, that she hated everything that had to do with forests, leaves, green in general. She had cursed the day that any rumour about the lands to the west had reached her own people, cursed even further those that thought that such a life was better than what they had already been given. Even worst was to think that taking children, her own child even, into foreign and clearly dangerous lands was a good idea. She would tear this world asunder to protect her people, when it came to Manala? She would do much worse, and they should have known better. And perhaps she should have known better, be stealthier but travelling among trees was not something that she or any of her own company had grown used to. Feeling the root covered ground beneath them was not like traversing the golden dunes and while she wished she didn’t have to be there, there was no choice in the matter.

Not for her. Those that traveled with her had chosen to be there, not allowing her to leave alone.

She still feels the blood over her palms, now thickening beneath closed fists. They had to tighten the constraints around her wrists more than the rest for the first time they had noticed that she had started to untie them. That had earned her the scar on her forehead, adding to the collection of the many over the short curly hair. Longer than she would like, but there was no choice. It still bled when her knees were bent forward under the strength. She had lost direction of where she was, not only by the trees but also to the lightness of her mind, which she fought with all strength.

Her fingers and short nails, however, were still dug into her binds. Hands starting to get numb at this point. Dark eyes rise from the floor, turning behind her to look at the Khazâd that stood behind her, slowly walking beside her ( but keeping their distance ) and talking to someone in front of them. She followed their steps, lips closed into a closed lip snarl. Only when he stopped walking did her head turn forward to look at the man standing in front of her. An elf no less, who knew that the elves of these lands invided Khazâd to dwell in their halls. Strange people with strange tales to draw ignorant ones away. So she remains in silence, staring up at the other and waiting.