#rulerofdale

[eryn-ara-blog]

     // I have been getting so many wonderful positive message                         as of late. Though they are the send/push to X amount of people,               still to be considered among that number or given the beautiful                    support, I must share my awe and appreciation for you as well.

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recklessheir :

You are the first person I had interacted with as soon as I joined the Tolkien community, and since then you have been more than wonderful to me. I would say you are sweet, but even sugar cannot compare to your kindness and pleasantries--really you truly are a joy. As Kili you are AMAZING. His character and likeliness is captured very well in your words, and you give him so much more than just puppy dog eyes and innocent bravery--honestly, I adore it. I have read a few other Kili’s and follow them too, but by far, you are absolutely my favourite; and there is no bias in it because you are the first to approach me, but because you truly are a talented writer whom knows their craft and character very well! Keep up the wonderful things you do, not just as Kili, but the refreshing person you are.

eldestnephewfili :

Frankly I feel Fili hardly gets much love as much as a lovely character he is, but then you come along and prove that there are those out there that really do love him. By your words alone--how you write his actions and complexities--I’d say you are Fili. You manage to interpret his just heart and wield his courage under your fingertips to impress anyone that reads your threads; Simply you are wonderful!  We have quite a few threads, and honestly, I am not one to complain about it, I love each and every one of them! Though I do not know much about you the mun, I regard you with much respect. By all means--continue to do what you do best!

the-shire-halfling-bilbo:

Master Boggins, a character not quite achieved in text, but as Bilbo Baggins you have done so. As a master burglar, you’ve expertly captured my awe. Bilbo, I find, has a certain uniqueness about him, a trove of complexities as well as honesty--which you convey to a fault; and have me laughing so hard at times at how well of a grasp you have on his attitude; Really you are such a treasure. I know not much about yourself personally, but I can see that you are quite the nice individual and sweet. Whether you are creeping along, or sitting comfortably in your chair, never forget you are by far a wonderful person both in muse and outside.

rulerofdale / nyrnernil:

Allow me to begin with a tiny disclaimer--to be fair, I won’t write a novel or a book--and with that said: My God. I don’t think you will ever realize how hard it is for me at the moment to come up with words of praise. A polished gem is what you are. I don’t think I can stress enough how much I admire your writing. Whether it is Bard or Legolas, still I find myself eager and excited once notified of a reply or other. Life is given, and then crushed under beautifully written words of a masterful mind--often I find myself rereading not once but twice your text--sometimes even more! I just...don’t know how well to express the inspiration you give me and how dexterous of a writer you are. Please excuse my bumbling--it is because of those reasons above and I fear for my cheeks hurting any further than they do now of my own excitement. 

sxlvan:

If I were asked how would I express Tauriel as a character, my only response would be to direct said inquisitor to you. You do just that, you know the very essence of Tauriel and there is always this little smile when I read her through you. But it is not just her to be frank--it is even on your other blogs too. You are brilliant at what you do for your characters and as someone with different muses, its impressive with how you can convey each one expertly. But I’ll solely focus on your Tauriel here, whom by far, is the best (at pouring wine and tending gardens) anyone could ask for. Please continue to be the marvelous writer you are.

kidhuzur-upndar:

Listen--I know this may seem ridiculous, and perhaps daft, but please bare to continue reading. You have to be one of the sweetest, if not the most wonderful person to ever grace anyone’s life. Such a big heart you share, and quite the beautiful soul to add. I’ve read many of your threads, and cannot tell you how wonderful of a Fili you make. Whether modern or canon, Fili is alive and kicking vivaciously through you; how you do it, I do not know, but you do and I cannot get enough. Whether it is raining sadness upon your life, or a sky full of sunshine, never forget how much of an amazing person you are. Certainly, I have not and never will, you are the sun itself if one is to hide behind clouds.

acornsanddoilies:

I think you may find it funny that every time I see a doily I think of you. But it is not just a matter of stitch work that makes me think of you, rather your knowledge and abilities to illuminate the character of Bilbo through your text. When I read our threads or what you may have with others, I always hear his voice, see his actions, and it is so enlightening to see that you know exactly what you are doing for him and to him. I compliment your Bilbo through and through; absolutely worth all the praise! However--you yourself--is a wonderful person. No matter where you are, no matter what comes at you, your strength alone will persevere and all that you do will shine brightly.

gonowandspeedwell:

Where do I begin? How about with my utmost respect for you and your Bard. The fact we can thread X amount of times (Which I am more than happy to do a million with you) and I will never ever lose my muse or inspiration with you. Dexterously, you have crafted yourself a fine character out of him and I cannot get enough of you. In fact, I find myself coming on here to check my blog even as I sit in a meeting just to see or re-read any of our threads. The amount of talent you have is frightfully superb and the abilities of painting a picture--I think you may make Monet blush. I can go on and on, but I’ll keep it short and just say Thank you for everything and please continue to grace everyone with your artistry.

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     //Again, I want to say Thank You to you all. Each and every                   one of you has given me so much to fuel my muse and indulge                       my inspiration to keep going on this blog. I want you to know,                      that this is my way of giving back and hoping no matter what,                    you will all remain the wondrous souls you are.

Follow Forever.   Promo.

[eryn-ara-blog]

                    rulerofdale​ liked for a kiss

He had drank too much. That is the truth. No matter how many time this Elvinking put his goblet down, the throbbing swell of his cranium never ceased. A swirl of nothingness, blurred with a haze of liquor burning in this king’s gut never ceases the swell of warmth eating away at his gut. However the presence of a human distracted him.

In all his might and glory, never had he come across such a man that dissuaded him from the monarchy of elvish line. Bard, the human that robbed him of thoughts, actions, and most of all rationality appeared; both a blessing and a threat. One more sip, the sweetest wine that ever had been produced within this everlasting kingdom, the king emptied his goblet. 

                              “Bard”

Thranduil called out to one so tempting.

                    “Come to me” demands made clear; yet he did not wait for the bowman to move.

Without even so much as a warning, the elvenking snared the human in his grasp, a furry chin raised under curled fingers and demanded attention. This is what he wanted. All the sights of these dark eyes laid upon him; to conquer such  a powerful gaze. That is how it happened, that is how it is set--and that is how the king stole a kiss.

Once the human moved, Thranduil drew himself to Bard; Drunken lips sealed all the hidden desires and promises of old to fruition. A hand wrapped around his neck and another under his chin, this king became drunk with a taste much sweeter than any wine. It tickled,the way this human’s chin tickled his skin, but nothing defeated the scent of he empowered to the nose perfectly fit in stiff cheeks. He wanted him--needed him, and with the taste alone, he grew drunk with the desire to have Bard. No one else shall come between them; arms wrapped tightly beneath the bossom of the other made sure of this.

                    “You are mine alone”

[goldengreenleaf]

rulerofdale said: ( bard is all ‘u gave my babe the sads, shame on u’ ) 

(Legolas and his evil twin came to the conclusion that it’s at least a pretty sight)

[dragcnslayr-blog]

rulerofdale replied to your post:krigarofwar replied to your post:            ...

( I would but I didn’t yet because I have barely any Asgardian rpers xD also have I no caps from ‘the immortals’, so another reason. THEY WANT YOU SO DO IT )

http://movie-screencaps.com/immortals-2011/ friend, have immortals screencaps this is where i got mine. they are great quality and wonderful for making icons. 

[sigrfridr-archive]

♚ I simply love your Sigrid! On your writing; without the use of overly complicated words & WITH a pleasant variation between long & short sentences, your writing is utmost pleasant to read. You get your muse's thoughts, emotions & expressions across with seemingly little effort & that's a talent not many possess. If you'd ever write a book, no matter how long, I'd definitely read it kdkfkfkf

Send a ♚ if you like my writing. Bonus points for why!

“if you’d ever write a book…I’d definitely read it”

…….

………..cause of death: this message. 

I just…I can’t….I…what are words right now omg! *rambles incoherently and hugs you*

[eryn-ara-blog]

                                                  a drabble for rulerofdale

In loneliness there is darkness.  

A void of nothingness, isolation. And when there is nothingness, there is a need to fill such void; a fragile muscle, seeking the comforts of which one assumes their happiness. Be it in food or song, dance or fight, feeble attempts are made. Dangerously, one can perceive things as what they will; For example: biting an apple convinced it is a strawberry. With enough intent, the mind can be tricked to assume what is tasted is not the juice of an apple, but that of a strawberry. Deny as one may, when one feels an overwhelming sensation about something—shock or pain—the natural defensiveness of the body is to shut all that is the truth down and substitute a reality.

But it's a trick, a trap, a maddening harness.

One year can go by, two, maybe three—and eventually a decade is reached, and still, if practiced, those beliefs can remain. Repetition is how it happens, a fact that when one looks to the left, a familiar face will walk past stone walls and enter a hall more grand than any civilized kingdom and all will be well. Yet time after time, it does not happen, why is this? Why is one whom knows  those ill spoken truths that lack gravity, weigh so much in the mind to the point it hurts?

This king is not ready.

Anger, the least docile emotion glacial optics express, the terror of reality begins anew. It's all in the head—the brain—such a traitorous organ. Creating lies to cure madness and liberally, begins displaying more; a nasty powerhouse. It is within the deepest recesses of the mind, darkness rules. Whether thoughts of death scrape along membrane walls or fleeting happiness floats, a temporary remedy is birthed, one way or another. Out of desperation, one such as this ill-stricken individual, can only rely on the curative spirits of alcohol for release.

This is how it begins, all that is unsteady.

Just when sweetest taste of forbidden fruits are near, shattered glass sprays. No—it's their fault. How can they be so greedy? To abandon one so gracious? Lowly. Nothing but a wretched human, and to think he was once respected as a capable man. Weak is what he was. A fragile creature easily broken. Pitiful. Manners forgotten, the bottle is now essential as this one's accessory; joining the rest among a decorative hand.

Limits are gone, and certainty is found in wine.

There—just beyond the darkness, where the light begins to fade, a man's shadows dares not move. It's cryptic. There are no sounds, no objects, nothing—just the infinite knowledge that there is someone there—that he is there—yet not. Suddenly, from an unknown source, soft features are illuminated, lines just beneath dark eyes wrinkle, and the most unforgettable smile curl whiskers.

Now the Elvenking is fine.

A pouring spring unearthed in bountiful sprays, does happiness surge through icy veins. If not for the cage made of bones surrounding the most harshest of hearts, it would have flown away, a tweeting bird singing songs of freedom, jubilant. To contain such mirth, such joy, it is a crime. One that slender fingers refuse to shackle, reaching out with a welcoming hand to the man cloaked in darkness—to him. They touch and all that had been feared lifts, clouds of fog—cataracts of the eyes—disappear; the enlightenment of bliss vibrant. Palms tickle under fuzzy patches of hair, rubbing it meticulously, a measure for good luck, and all that had been lost—all that time spent high to keep things off the mind—finally pay off. Close--they are so close--words of praise whisper. Parted lips exhale a sigh removing all that is negative, the excitement to claim a kiss and bond their souls calling. And only at a second's time no less, the image shatters. Broken in shards, a mirror reflecting shock, millions of fragments flutter down, a shower of stars.

That is when he awakes.

“No...” The mind shrieks simultaneously. If only something was done sooner... “Please...” bargaining to any and all listening; if only the change had been noticed... “Not again. These poisonous illusions, when will they stop! Curse you! Stop this! Anything, everything, whatever it is—bring him back to me! My life...my eternity.. my blood, my soul, take it all! Exchange it for whatever currency or offering—but give him back! ” helpless and vulnerable, the lack of control tormenting a pained soul.

The weakest line of defense to reality breaks.

Air refuses to fill heaving lungs fast enough, a drowning being buried under the rushing rapids of a  never ending river. Suddenly the ground seems closer than before and the world around becomes a haze of muteness and blurred colours. Dignity collapsed, a glimmering flutter of silks in silver and gold pool around. Throbbing, the brain knocks relentlessly on a tempered cranium; it is so loud the thumping numbs pointy ears deaf unable to distinguish the tears running down alabaster cheeks to drip, or the stinging pricks that stab trembling fingertips cold. At any moment, the heart is sure to burst, at the rate at which it swells—pumping and throbbing—there is no hope of him returning; only promising bouts of depression.

Though this can all fade in time of passing leaves....

However long the miserable pile lays upon the ground fetal, a newborn securely in it's mother's womb, do puffed eyes turn to the stars nearly choking on laborious breathes. No words, no motions, just the dazzling reflection of all that is above looking down upon those below, that twinkle and shine; brilliance re-birthed in shimmering hues, the choice to accept inevitable. For no matter the time or place, awake or asleep, sober or drunk--never will the one whom handles a bow with exceptional dexterity, that slayed a dragon as old as the beginning, raised a family single handedly, and charmingly pierced the heart of a stern king, will Bard be forgotten...

In privacy, Thranduil grieves.