#sonsofdoom

[first-son-of-finwe]

“how long has it last been since you slept?” - Nelyo, Sonsofdoom

“A week, perhaps,” he muttered, grimacing at the inkstain across his papers. His sleeplessness had been a problem since early childhood, but there was little he could do about it except wait it out.

“Don’t be concerned, Nelyo...I’ll sleep eventually. Are your brothers all okay?”

@sonsofdoom

[gxldenfinwe]

‘oh dear’ (sonsofdoom, Maglor)

our muses have a one night stand. send ‘oh dear’ for my muses reaction…

“Shit.”

Feanor was going to be furious. Arvo scrambled out of the bed, unusually clumsy. He sat on the end of the bed, tugging the knots from his hair. He could barely even remember how they’d ended up here.

“Kano... I...”

[thegreatstrongbow]

"Beleg? Could you join me in my tent for a moment? I have something to tell you" (sonsofdoom, tyelko)

"Tyelko? Is everything alright?" The tone concerned him and he abandoned his task, ducking inside the tent. He'd only been with the Fëanorion host a few weeks, but he was settling in nicely. "What is it?"

[theelvenscholar]

@sonsofdoom continued

“I treat you like an elfling because you happen to act like one” Moryo huffed, still not standing up as he knew that doing so mid-argument could be seen as threatening. No matter how annoyed he actually was, he didn’t want to scare his son.

“You’re a politician, and other than that you still have the mindset of a fucking monk. It’s not that I don’t think you have valuable opinions, I just don’t have patience for flowery language or evasive bullshit. If you have issues, bring them up. I’m not Curvo”

Erestor closed his eyes after the quick-tempered response from his father – it was hardly unsurprising, there had been songs sung about the fury of Moryo the Dark – but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He breathed in deeply through his nose, then out through his mouth slowly – a subtle attempt to demonstrate to Caranthir just how frustrated he was becoming, and all thanks to the elf opposite him. He then opened his eyes, giving a small smile as he tucked his hair behind his pointed ear. “Adaneth, would you mind preparing some flower tea? Thank you so much,” Erestor uttered politely to one of the younger, serving elves, deliberately slipping into his non-native Sindarin tongue just to make a point. He neatened himself, giving her a smile as she bowed and made her way out. No sense of fear in her footsteps – part of which made Erestor proud to have helped build the moral foundation of Imladris. He watched, tilting his head as he kept himself perfectly poised, back straight, legs crossed, the perfect picture of polite elven bureaucracy until she was out of earshot, his head now snapping back to his father. “I want you to listen, and not just wait for me to be finished talking,” he stated firmly, his eyebrows having furrowed into a scowl. “If you wish for me to be harsh, I can be harsh, however diplomacy and supposed ‘flowery words’ have got me far further than waving your fists about like some sort of orc has ever got you. Besides, if you didn’t want a monk for a son perhaps you shouldn’t have sent me to a damned monastery. You can’t blame me for your shortfalls. We have rules and we have regulations for a reason – everyone lives the same way, even me, even you, even my dear friend and colleague Commander Glorfindel – who has the same sword skills that you so greatly admire.” He then brushed down his knees a little before glancing back up to him. “I wouldn’t speak this way if I didn’t want you here as long as possible, but this isn’t Thargelion, my Lord. The people here have a certain expectation of me, and I have to fulfil it.”

[legolasgoldy]

Maglor had begun the trip towards Nargothrond the moment it was safe to do so. Finrod had lost his brothers - both of them - and he didn't want his soulmate to be alone in his grief. He barged in through the gate, banner raised high and once his horse was taken care of, he went to find his beloved cousin - wherever he may be.

// 8′) ouch. What was that? Ah yes, the sound of my heart crushing. ( thank you for the ask tho XD) @sonsofdoom @admirable-mairon//

The visit was so unexpected the guards barely knew what to think. In such war stricken times, a visit from the Feanorian who had his own lands to defend, baffled them to speechlessness. It was only after Maglor’s horse was taken that one guard finally snapped out of their shock to jog after him, “ My lord! All matters are to be taken to Edrahil. Our king is in mourning, and his people mourn with him. Any message you have will be given to him when he is well.” 

Deep inside Nargothrond, not a single guard stood watch of the king’s chambers as he had been requested. He wished to be truly alone and the kingdom hadn’t questioned it, nor would they dare disturb him. Only Edrahil would open the door enough to leave food inside. He knew Finrod wouldnt have wanted to be seen in such a state. 

Now, he lay in bed surrounded by their belongings. He had made the trip, however dangerous it may have been to see them one last time before the funeral and collect their things when all was said and done. Eldalote, Orodreth and Findulias had taken what they desired, and Finrod left with what was now his and what would be sent to Galadriel. At the base of his bed, the trunk sat open with various possessions, apparel, weapons, little things collected. Several of their robes were scattered across the bed next to him, and gathered in Findarato’s arms as he slept. He had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber that would bring him little rest. The golden light about him seemed to have faded, that joy he ever held was gone. Color had drained from his face, his curls in a tangled mess. Even sleeping he shown an helplessness surpassing any he experienced in the ice. At least then, he had his family. 

[first-son-of-finwe]

"How about we go sons against fathers in the fighting ring instead?" - Nelyo

“Well that’s not fair, there are significantly more of you than us.”

@sonsofdoom

[first-son-of-finwe]

@sonsofdoom @kingofthemirkwoodelks -through a facepalm- Can we....pLEAse....get along??

[first-son-of-finwe]

All five, plus Tyelpë, show up properly oiled for the wrestling, wearing Only loincloths. "We are ready to establish which the best house of Finwë is, atar"

“Ah, excellent! I’m afraid some of Arafinwë’s lot are reluctant to take part, one of them wants to fight me, and I’ve heard little from Nolofinwë’s brats either…I think Irissë is up for it though. Tyelko, you want to go first and take her?”