#roimelenkho

[laurefiindil]

   he reminds her of things she’s long since escaped, of this he is aware. a gilded cage, a sindar king, a son. he means not to bring memories with him, but he know he does, he knows the moment she drops down in front of him, with teeth bared, and an arrow already in her grip, that with him come memories of an age she’s left behind, a life she’s abandoned.

   “peace.” his hands are held up, his expression serene. “i come not with ill intent.”

@roimelenkho » starter call [ mutuals only ]

[medicter]

@roimelenkho replied to your photoset “sercauthrienismymuse: I was in a very specific Mood tonight after...”

shes........................................so tall. shes so tall and big [hime voice] im bisexual

this is such a big valid mood

[aglaecan]

“Time is a drug. Too much of it kills you.” (for Caranthir!)

terry pratchett sentence starters

He knew. He knew. Better than most, though not as sharply assome, he knew. He had lived once already, and he had died. An old marring, theplace where his first life seeped away, still bisected the flat plane of hisbelly in a rope of proud cicatrice. He kept it, when he had returned. He keptit, when his spirit had reshaped the flesh it had once known. He kept all thescars his first life had given him, the ones of his flesh and the ones of hisspirit alike.

Why had they let him leave? Why had the Jailer of Doomopened wide his brazen prison bars? Why had the Weaver retracted her nets,untangling them from his pale spirit’s limbs and spilling him forth into aworld made strange and new? He does not know. It was not meant to be possible.His Doom had been the darkness everlasting, for the Oath that he had taken andthe deeds that he had done in its furtherance.

And yet turn him forth they had, into a wide courtyard ofworked stone, open to the sky. He had gasped for air like a stranded fish,staring up into Varda’s stars as his flesh reknit itself around him. And why not keep all the scars it had onceknown, then? It would not be hisflesh without them.

He had taken ship. This one, not white and winged, notstained with blood and ash. He had taken ship, and when the sun had risen abovethe horizon and cast a pathway upon the moving face of the waters, he hadsteered his craft into it, onto it,and the rounded world had flattened for him. He had returned, only to find itall changed. The lands he had known were gone, drowned and lost. Almost nothingremained of the wide green steppes of Thargelion which he had once loved. Hislake of black glass had been subsumed into that larger water, lost to ceaseless time like tears in the rain.

His first life had killed him with violence. Would this onekill him with the relentlessness of its change? Of things lost, and lost, andlost again, until only he remained to recall their image with the perfectclarity of memory which was his people’s gift, and curse?

Caranthir, who called himself Cantëa in this life, gazedacross at the elf of darkness who shared his fire. No Þinda she; in look andtongue and garb, she more resembled the Laiquendi he had known in the drownedlands of Valariandë, though she was not that, either. She had called herselfqueen of this wood, and he was now the prince of nothing, and no one. Sovereigntyhad passed from his elder line long ago, and would not be resumed.

“Time is a panacea,” he replied in a voice gone rusty withdisuse. He had spoken to none but she in weeks, wandering the wilds of this new land, communingin silence with the trees. “A healer, for mortals, whose memories fade andblur. For such as I, it is no drug but a poison, and one with no cure, not even death.”

Perhaps that was why they had let him go, he thought withsudden clarity. Perhaps the torment of ongoing and unending time was hispunishment, for all that he was done.

[aglaecan]

happy birthday dear!!! you are wonderful, a true delight, your talent amazing and your sweetness unparalleled! i hope today is as lovely as you are

ah gosh thank you matty darling!! it’s been a lovely day indeed. <333

[fundinson]

❣ ☠ ❥ ☂

❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.

Bravery – but not the foolish, reckless kind of courage which reminds him too much of his younger self, which still sits uneasy in his throat when the aftertaste of Azanulbizar becomes too daunting again. Contrary to what many believe that know him only marginally, Dwalin doesn’t think highly of those that pursue a thirst for fame and glory; purpose is what drives him, and which he looks for in others. A brave kind of determination, fuelled by an honest heart, those are traits that impress him. (It’s also what he sees in Fili and Kili where others would rail against their wish to join their uncle’s quest.)

☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?

answered here.

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

Allowing intimacy into a conversation is a sure sign that he has let down his guard; sharing tales and shedding the mantle of his secretive nature. Once he also reveals his thoughts in free and uncontrolled speech, it usually indicates that he feels comfortable in his environment. He does not open up fast, and there’s a shell to crack for any stranger before they can discover the warmth underneath – but warmth there is, and Dwalin is not above sharing it. 

☂ : Storms or clear skies? 

Both – it depends on the context. When he travels he much prefers clear skies; naturally, as storms not only dampen clothes and roads but also his mood. 

But witnessing thunder and lightning as a telltale sign that the Maker is at work with hammer and anvil will never fail to put him in awe. He remembers sitting on his father’s lap as a child, listening to the rhythmic clatter of a dozen forges gleaming copper under the bellows’ fire, the mountain shook by thunder and the uproar setting the beat for the mithril-smiths’ work pattern.  

                                                   headcanons meme. (accepting)

[fundinson]

SPIDERS ARE GR8 TOO THORIN YOU SHOULD TRY EM

la la la la i’m p sure @oxkenbranch cant hear you he’s too busy drooling over the d(walin)

[fundinson]

starhuntxr​ | starter call

No sense of direction, a strange tingling under his skin whenever he scans the dense undergrowth, growing unease among the Company – such are inconvenient companions on a journey, but a parched tongue is the most inconvenient of them all. 

Do not think on it, he tries to tell himself, and thinks on it all the more.

It starts with his futile attempts to wet his palate. Next he finds himself yearning for the cool, fresh taste of water. Now, the drip drip drop of forest leaves after much-needed rain haunts his mind; and, unable to switch it off again, he curses under his breath, and sucks in the stale, humid air that is trapped under a suffocating canopy of treetops. 

Worst of all, though, is the gentle flow of the river to their right, as they continue to stumble along through these accursed woods. No matter how they strive to go forward, the river always wounds its way back to them, a constant reminder of their thirst in the corner of the eye. Building up frustration. Even as they fall on rock and moss, exhausted lungs heaving with bone-dry breath, Dwalin cannot help himself but to glare at its surface, opal and glistening. 

Drip drip drop, goes the water in his mind. 

Just one sip, tempts the river. 

Just one sip. Just one sip…

[fundinson]

DO ME. (literally lmao)

POSITIVITY MEME.

i love doing u, sweetheart. in all earnestness though, i am forever in awe of your world-building; your creativity shines through in everything you write. so does your care for and respect of the characters, peoples and cultures you engage with in rp, which i find inspiring and exemplary.