aurë entuluva

by sillylovesxngs

It always comes back to Hithlum.

Teen, No Archive Warnings

- We never rob. We just sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it. - Borrow? Boy, are we in debt.

Especially the spaces that are meant to be highly political.

The floor of the Council of Elrond:

The table AND pillars of the White Council pavilion in the Hobbit:

Elrond. Buddy.

Anyways I was actually looking for Elwing/Earendil references in Rivendell’s architecture, but I LOVE that the film directors snuck these in. This is the first year me and my parents are both caught up on Silm lore so we were just

Cooking Jam  -  Teija Lehto, 2016

Finnish,b.1965-

Now Melkor began the delving and building of a vast fortress, deep under Earth, beneath dark mountains where the beams of Illuin were cold and dim. That stronghold was named Utumno.

And though the Valar knew naught of it as yet, nonetheless the evil of Melkor and the blight of his hatred flowed out thence, and the Spring of Arda was marred.

Green things fell sick and rotted, and rivers were choked with weeds and slime, and fens were made, rank and poisonous, the breeding place of flies;

we will make this place our home - Chapter 105: Chocolate Crumbs

The spring term ended in a haze of unexpected sunshine and a pile of chocolate crumbs. True to his word, Elros woke up early Friday morning and dragged me into the bakery before school; it was the only shop already open, the door propped ajar and the delicious smells of freshly-made bread and cake wafting down the street. The shopkeeper was busy arranging the window to tempt in passers-by: golden-orange loaves still warm from the oven, sugar-dusted biscuits, crisp white meringue, iced buns, dense brownies scattered with chocolate chips, rich ginger cake, sticky buns shining with sugar. Under the round window the bakery cat was washing her paws. We propped our bikes against the wall, spared a brief moment to fuss over the cat, and hurried through the door with its jingling bell. 

It's the end of term, and Elros has Plans. Read the whole chapter here on A03.

we will make this place our home - Chapter One Hundred and One

We spent our evenings and weekends helping Maglor put the kitchen garden to rights. (At least I did; Elros came and went, far too busy playing football and climbing trees and pulling sopping-wet dogs out of ditches and whatever else Laerher-and-friends got up to to spend all his weekends digging up dandelions.) Sometimes Maedhros joined us, restless after months cooped up, pacing the gardens in search of a purpose. We planted all the packets of seeds saved in previous years: green beans and lettuces and spinach, an assortment of mystery seeds Maglor forgot to label, a whole bucket of forgotten seed potatoes sprouting and trailing pale roots across the shed. Maglor came home one afternoon with a basketful of baby strawberry-plants.

As new life springs up in the garden, the twins are busy. Read the full chapter here on AO3.

Apple Pips

There was no home after Sirion: no gentle garden of fruit trees, no guarding walls, no shutters bolted against the dark. Maedhros’ flag hung ragged over huddled tents, stubborn red fading in the wild woods, a new tear in the cloth each time they broke camp. Tangled treelimbs gave shelter and choked out the stars. Fires flared briefly and were stamped out. At midnight the twins were hoisted onto horseback, wide-awake captives in nightclothes and blankets, held close to Maglor’s chest as they outran Morgoth’s searching hands. 

Bedtime after bedtime Elros threatened to run away. There was nowhere to run. 

At their first camp they left behind a crab-apple tree. A small, twisted thing, branches reaching out for lost friends, unhappy roots pushing out of mossy earth; the fruits would be small and sour, Maglor said, good only for preserves. Elros cared not. He climbed it every day, barefoot-balancing on wobbly branches, bark rough under tender toes. Keen-eyed guards forbade him climbing taller trees, but the crab-apple was his: he hauled his small body skyward, perched in the crown of branches like a throne. Scraps of sunlight coaxed tightcurled leafbuds from bare twigs. Elrond counted the days, waiting for blossom. 

The tree burned, the night they left. Orcs found the tents uprooted, the Elves escaped, and set their torches to the trees. Through left-behind shadows Elros saw the blaze. He howled and kicked and pummelled Maglor’s breastplate, yelling stop! Stop, we have to save it!, while horses galloped and arrows flew and new leaves shrivelled and charred. Maglor rode one-handed, gripping Elros tight, soothing words useless to the boy whose home he burned. 

“This land is dying,” he said, in the grey morning of a camp with no apple trees. “Nowhere is safe long. You must be each other’s home.” 

Still Elros loved – skittering lizards, hollow-tree hideaways, secret waterfalls – and wept over every Left Behind. Clinging to Elrond could not steady him, not when the slow death of Beleriand crawled behind them inch by inch. In Elros’ nightmares the animals fled, the trees wrenched free their roots, and floodwater shattered the earth underfoot. 

“Are we to die running?” he whispered, shivering under Elrond’s blanket. Elbows and knees knocked together, growing too fast to fit. Training swords waited, unready, beside the bed. Anything could happen in darkness.

Elrond grasped his hand. “Perhaps our task is only to save what we can.”

They kept whatever fit their pockets. Apple pips, a furious kitten, a three-legged lizard. The lizard scuttled quietly into death; the kitten grew into a snarling wildcat, beheading Morgoth's bats, buried in a warrior's grave; the pips hid in Elros' pocket, waiting for earth they could grow in.

He planted them in Numenor, in a blanket of soft new earth, overlooked by the shining stones of a home he never need lose. Sturdy garden walls sheltered his fragile saplings. Elros watched their leaves unfurl and their first blossoms swell into tart red apples.

King Tar-Minyatur never saw his orchard die. 

Only one week left until LOTRWEEK 2025 begins! (22nd-28th September) See the prompts and updated FAQs below the cut for more info, and have fun!

This new blog is dedicated to hosting a fandom event, Tolkien food week, where we share recipes we love and link them to Tolkien's works in one way or another. Recipes, fanfics, fanart or other.

Date of the event week: 3 to 9th november 2025, when all is cold and we all need soups and comfort foods and comfort characters.

My main is @assortedvariety btw

to participate, post a recipe and tell us which character would like it best and why, or what place of Middle-Earth it would come from, tag me @tolkien-food-week and tag it with #tolkien food week.

Or post a fanfic about food, or fanart, or whatever you like, and i'll reblog it here. Please follow this blog to be kept in the loop.

Rules are simple : no hate, no ship wars, no AI.

I'm tagging all the people who liked or rebbloged the first post proposing this once, and then I won't bother you anymore. Be sure to follow! I won't post much until November.