hi everyone, i have something to talk about regarding tolkien sea week. im posting this on my main so it'll have more reach.
i usually like to keep things lighthearted around here but unfortunately not everything is sunshine and rainbows.
if you have been following my event @tolkienseaweek, you may have encountered an individual called @/physiological-synchrony. they submitted a work to the event and i accepted it.
i have since been informed by a very sweet anon that this person utilizes generative ai to create images and likely their "fanfiction" as well.
i am a deeply political person and this is something that i can absolutely not tolerate in what is supposed to be a safe and creative space. ai is harmful to our brains, creative communities, and the environment. i believe it is poisoning every space we come into contact with, and i am so deeply sorry that it poisoned mine too.
i don't want to leave anyone with the false impression that i support this in any way, so i have blocked the user and deleted all evidence of their work from the event page. however, many people reblogged the masterpost before i noticed this error, so the unedited version will be floating around. please do not give this person any likes, kudos, or support if you come across their work.
while running this event, i was very overwhelmed with the amount of submissions that were coming through, as it is my first time running an event alone, and did not check every one of them thoroughly. i say this not as an excuse but as a reason to why this was allowed through. i was already familiar with, if not acquainted with most of the people who participated in the event, so i fell into the sense of security that everyone would be honest with their work.
i think this is a very serious offense and falls under the category of plagiarism. again, i sincerely apologize for even allowing this person to participate.
hello! you don't have to answer this, I just wanted to warn you that user physiological-synchrony (who participated in your event) clearly uses ai to make their "fanart". we don't know whether it's the case with their fanfiction too, but it might as well be. anyway I don't think such things are allowed in fandom spaces, which are meant to celebrate human love and creativity. maybe you should remove this person from your masterlist. it's up to you of course
hollyyyyy shit i didn’t even notice until i looked closer, i absolutely do not fucking tolerate gen ai and thank you so much kind anon they are blocked and off the masterlist i genuinely appreciate you so much and i apologize sincerely
@tolkienseaweek day 5: family | Faramir, Boromir, Finduilas, and Denethor | G | 1.6k
I dream of a wave. It rises green and seething above me, greater than the pinnacle of my father’s tower, which would be but a pearl beneath this wave. The voice of the water is like the thunder trapped within the mountains that my brother sometimes speaks of, so mighty that it brings down snow and stone alike. This wave could carve mountains and valleys from bitter stone, could cleave Minas Tirith from the soft-tilled fields of the Pelennor.
I tremble beneath it, flinching at the foam that falls upon my face, but the wave does not fall.
In the morning, I tell my brother. He listens and in his eyes there is a wariness I have not seen before. Swords, strength of arms, the scaling of snow and stone—these things he knows. Dreams and riddles and waves—these things are mysteries to him.
In our lessons together, we learn of Númenor, of its end and of the strange warnings that preceded its end, eagles of cloud and lashes of lightning. I ask my tutor all that he knows of these things, and he can tell me no more. But my brother asks not about riddles of storm, but about the landing of Elendil’s ships upon the shores of Middle-earth and the strength of their company and the founding of their kingdoms.
“It was only a dream,” he says, “a terror of the night. No more than that. In a day or two, you will have forgotten it.” The finality in his voice only half-convinces me. But I ask no more, seeing that I will get no further.
More in the linguistic resources and word of the day (wotd) tags! Let me know if there are any topics you would like to see covered!
This collection focuses more on the shore and ships! I am still trying to post my second river words post but I am still being thwarted in this. Late to @tolkienseaweek
Vaire in Quenya means wavy, derived from the root way meaning blowing of wind
Falas and Falassë are the Sindarin and Quenya words for seashore or surf line. Both derive from the root phal meaning foam.
Uil is an older Sindarin word for seaweed, derived from uil meaning a long trailing plant. Eäruilë is the Quenya word
Côf is a Sindarin word meaning bay. Lond or londë seen in words like Alqualondë, meant a haven or land locked harbour
Chwinn means whirlpool in earlier Sindarin. It derives from whin meaning whirl or eddy
Duivrant means aqueduct, deriving from an older Sindarin word for stream, duinf, and rant, an older word for bridge.
Iant was the more commonly used Sindarin word for bridge with yanta being the Quenya cognate. The Quenya word for telepathy, palanyantië, derives from this, meaning distant bridge.
Duithrant, canal, also derives from duif, and rant, meaning path
Luntë means a boat in Quenya, usually referring to a smaller boat. It derives from lut meaning to float
Cair is the Sindarin word for a larger ship with cirya being the Quenya cognate. Círdan of course means shipwright or ship maker.
Tyluma in Quenya means mast, derived from tyul meaning to stand straight
Lhorn is an older Sindarin word for a quiet harbor or anchorage, derived from lur meaning be still, quiet or calm
Belon and velontë are the Sindarin and Quenya words for a ship’s sail
"Thus Maedhros and Maglor gained not the jewel; but it was not lost. For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved" (Quenta Silmarillion, Of the Voyage of Eärendil).
For @tolkienseaweek ~ Day Seven: Escape, Avoidance, Freedom
The sea beckons. Its voice slips softly into her dreams, washing against the walls of her mind, torment and comfort alike.
Do not torment me with that which I cannot again see! she cries. Have I not endured torment enough?
The voice of the sea deepens, grows. Even in her chamber, long shut against the chill of the winter, she feels the salt-touch of the breeze stirring the dead air and slipping silent over her skin.
Take me, she begs. Take me far from here, this city of dust and stone. Take me to the river, to the sea, anywhere where the water may bear me, but do not leave me here, withering.
Salt scents the air; a fine mist falls upon her skin. She tilts her face, hungering. Waves wash over her feet, tug at the hem of her dress.
“Lady Finduilas looks much recovered,” murmurs one of her handmaidens from somewhere beyond the tide. “See the flush of her skin!”
“But will she not wake?” says another. “What is the flush of life if she will not stir, nor hearken to any voice?”
Their voices dim, drowned beneath the voice of the sea. Foam circles Finduilas’ ankles, and she bends to dip her hands in the lapping waves. How long she has yearned, parched and bereft! She lifts her skirts, wades deeper.
A touch, searing, stills her. Her husband’s hand burns against hers, as it often does when he has returned from the high chamber of his tower. But though his grip is firm, he cannot hold her. Not even the small hands that touch her arms, pleading, can draw her from the current that now tugs at her.
She slips from their grasp, elusive as the foaming line of the tide. The sea beckons, and she follows.
I wrote a new poem on Finduilas of Dol Amroth for Day One of @tolkienseaweek.
That poem is here.
This has reminded me of the older poem I also wrote in her voice, back in 2019, which also speaks of the Sea, already homesick, but less desperately so.
Finduilas to Imrahil, with the gift of a silver bell
677 words | AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80452041
(Transfem!Maglor this is just transfem Maglor in Tirion)
Maedhros was not on the pier when the ships from Middle-earth docked.
There would be no point in it. The docks were busy with overjoyed relatives and anxious friends, long friendships reunited or cut to an end; one could not go two feet without tripping over some embracing pair or knocking into reunion-sweets. The streets were filled with banners and ribbons hanging from every stall and standard, a riot of color and motion. The good people of Tirion could never permit themselves to be upstaged, of course, and so their garb shimmered like jewels and fires as they met their friends. It was not a place for Maedhros Feanorian. There was only one person he was waiting for, only one who could possibly come off that boat, and Maedhros wouldn't hold his breath for it. He had spent long enough suffocating in Beleriand. He would not start again now.
Instead, Maedhros waited a few streets down from the piers, just close enough to feel the salty breeze and hear the soft rustle of the waves. Market stalls lined every side of the street in ruby red and sapphire, and Maedhros bought a steamed bun from one of them to fill his wait. Like everything in Valinor, it was perfect, light and fluffy in his mouth. Maedhros didn't particularly care for it.
His street was one that led into the city like a vein pumping lifeblood. There were ways to avoid it, but not conveniently, and it would never be the first choice. Maedhros the tactician, the lord of Himring, thought it was a solid choice. So did Nelyafinwe Feanor's son, and that was enough for Maedhros.
The sky turned from azure to ripe orange and pink, and Maedhros waited under its Sunset until he found the shimmer of black-blue silk. Maedhros stepped before his brother and offered him half of the bun. "Hello, Maglor."
"Ah, Maedhros!" Maglor snatched it from his hand and took a bite with a dramatic curtsey. "I almost thought that you had forgotten me."
He looked better than Maedhros had expected. The sea had not worn him down entirely until there was nothing left but bone; his cheeks were thin but not skeletal, his hair shining with its braided shells. "Could I forget the Sun, laurë? Would I want to? Or would I rather not meet my brother among the cousins who don't like us very much?"
"Sister, now." Maglor's grin was both conspiracy and invitation, dimples stretching far enough to eclipse the sun. There had been some Sun upon her skin, it seemed, keeping her well and freckled, and for the first time Maedhros noted her hair was done in a woman's braid. "The years have been long for both of us. Would you deny me my change?"
Maedhros laughed. He knew too much about change and difference and living in the wrong skin, and very little of it had ever been pleasant for him. "You're alive, aren't you? And here. I'd be mad not to."
"Exactly," his sister agreed. "I'm here, aren't I? And, Maedhros, please do you count as alive? It's a very pressing question. Essential, even, because I have another verse planned out for the Noldantë and am trying to make it rhyme."
"In the loosest possible sense," Maedhros said. "But, sister dearest, you cannot tell me you are still continuing the Noldantë. It has been centaries since any of us has been relevant."
"Elrond counts," Maglor told him defensively, "and it is not only us, Maedhros, but whatever tragedy I find interesting. Arda has many of them! I resent the idea that it would only be us who got the spotlight. It seems like something father would say."
"I only thought the Noldor in the Noldantë might have a major role. Forgive my assumptions, please, they are terribly wrong and incorrect."
Maglor's face was deeply serious and contemplative as she nodded; her hair was fighting a brutal war to escape and gust around her freckles. "You understand, brother. If you even ask me nicely enough, I'll sing it."
I cannot bring my grief to Elwing, who remembers not the touch of father or mother. So I go down the sea. Each day since they sailed, I have waded in the shoals and shed my sorrows in Belegaer’s mighty basin. Beneath the sun, I have fallen upon my knees and rubbed my skin raw, fine silver sand glittering on my arms. In a storm, I have surrendered myself to an onrushing wave; I have been churned in the relentless roll of Belegaer’s disquiet, and wondered, if only for a moment, what would happen if I opened my lungs and let the ocean fill me.
I have known endings, of course, for I am a survivor of Gondolin’s fall. We were survivors: my mother, my father, and me. How blessed was I to have them both! What fortune to grow to manhood with my own mother to teach me the history of my immortal kindred; to have my own father teach me to harness the winds and follow the currents.
My father, my father. May my mother forgive me the depth of my grief that is not for her.
For my father is a mortal man.
I push my fingers into the sand, deep and deeper. The water pools around them, cold and biting. “Ada. Ada,” I cry at the horizon, whimpering like a child. You were not so old as that, not for a man of the Edain. Could you not have remained but a little longer? These questions I do not speak aloud, for such fancies are for my own comfort only. I would have kept him for myself until he was sickly and grey and no longer knew my face.
Let him go, I urge myself, even as I fold double with the weight of my sorrow. The tide races inward to meet the river mouth in a great tumult of water, pushing and pulling and churning. Before the day is done, Belegaer will retreat once more. Ever does the sea return and retreat. One day, I will retreat with her, and I will not return.
I will sail far beyond sight of land, following my father.
One day, I will go farther still, out, out beyond the Circles of the World, following my father.
Written for @tolkienseaweek, Day 6 (Mortality, Endings)
On AO3.
wow everyone !! tolkien sea week is over :(( but thank you all for making this week so incredibly fun and special ! it’s amazing to see something i’ve been working on since july come together in such a fun way. if you still have something to submit, you may do so until around 5pm PST on march 6, which is when the masterlist will be posted. again, huge huge thank yous to every single person who participated or followed along!! some of the pieces created for this event have genuinely torn my heart out and some have made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt! i have loved seeing every single one :))
