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@eolthedark-blog
Hello mr gothy elf~
“……I have no idea what that means.”

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Círdan bowed his head in a gracious nod and there was nothing in his demeanor or expression that showed a wary apprehension to his host. There was no reason for it, not yet. This elf was of the groups that broke off from their host along the journey and therefore was kin. Any apprehension he held was for the woods themselves but in part, that was due to a longing for the sea and the absence he felt for the shore deep within his very hroa.
“Círdan, lord of the Falas, kinsman of Elw– Elu Thingol,” he corrected the name usage at the last moment. It was a force of habit to use the names he had always known but just as he had shifted from Nowë to Círdan, the other had shifted names as well. It was only polite to honor it. “Might I be so bold as to inquire how you came to call these woods home or to be named their lord?”
In a show of trust and good nature, he surrendered some items to the elves that rushed forward to greet them. One key item was the sword he had sheathed at his side, the hilt designed to look like the scales of a fish with a shell like shape as the pommel.
The slip was telling. Eöl filed it away for consideration, but made no immediate comment. “Well met, then, Lord Círdan,” He watched with a keen eye as the other placed the items in his servants’ car, seeing it for the show of good will that it was surely meant to be. With it, his shoulders relaxed, though he hadn’t realized how tense he had become.
Only then did he nod his assent; for one familiar with this land, the question was not out of line. “Of old I dwelt in the Forest of Region, under the lordship of your kinsman,” Indeed, “our” was perhaps more accurate, but he made no mention of it, for now. “But I had no great love for that place, and when the Lady Melian set her Girdle about it, I would stay there no longer.” He paused, deciding how much exactly to relay. “There was some...bargaining involved.” He said it with a look of distaste, to this day still none too happy with having parted with one of his swords, but attempted to cover it by abruptly turning, in a show of leading his guests in as all seemed to be in order here. He continued, calling behind and assuming the other had followed, “In exchange for a great gift, Thingol bid me depart, and now I dwell here, instead.”
Their sister was Aredhel the White. She was younger in years of the Eldar than her brothers; and when she was grown to full stature and beauty she was tall and strong, and loved much to ride and hunt in the forests. There she was often in the company of the sons of Fëanor, her kin; but to none was her heart’s love given.
requested by anon
This is not at all related to Telchar, but, in case you somehow noticed, I am pretty fond of and Maeglin (and Aredhel too! the whole Nan Elmoth gang, really), this post is just some things I was thinking of, so I figured I’d write them up while they were still fresh. Now, I don’t pretend to be an expert on anything Tolkien related, not Dwarves, not Elves, not anything, and I don’t really pay attention to the whole knowledgeable community thing and its meta, so maybe I’m totally wrong on this, but whatever.
Keep reading
Anonymously or not, send “How To Care For” instructions for my muse

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Adar. When was the last time you returned to Doriath? [Random ask for you]
“I haven’t returned since I left in the first place, nor do I intend to, if it can be avoided,” he said, then frowned thoughtfully, “Though, I have on occasion sent messengers and others there on…errands on my behalf.” He narrowed his eyes. “Of what interest is this to you, Maeglin?”
She caught the slight frown and resisted commenting on the expression to avoid ruining the moment. The hand that rest on his cheek moved to rest upon the junction of his neck and shoulder.
“ Well… Sometimes you say something… Along the line of how you will spend at least some time with me, then you leave the next day and are gone for a week or more..” Her gaze averted and Aredhel found herself staring blankly at the wall. “ It’s a bit frustrating when you are assured something and you get nothing…” Quickly, she returned a sharp glance to her husband, “ Does that make sense?”
Her distant gaze and harsh glance were not lost on him; they incited him to clench his jaw in displeasure, but he said nothing to press the point. Instead, he acted as though he had not noticed any change in their interaction.
“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, “Yes, I suppose that I see your point.” It was not entirely truth, for he did not recall these instances of which she spoke, but even he was not so oblivious as to not see that this was not the mood to bring that up. So, instead he agreed with her. “This time I will be more intentional in my attentiveness.” He gazed at her for a short moment longer, then took a step away, taking her hand in the process. “Come, walk with me; I believe the stars will be bright above the lake, tonight.”
Círdan had been apprehensive about Nam Elmoth, to say the least. He held a bitter grudge against the location simply because it had been the setting for a series of unfortunate timings. If Elwë had not ventured here, then he would not have come across Melian and been transfixed within the enchantments that seemed to pause time for them. Of course, for the rest of those that were looking for their king, it had been a brutally slow crawl of time that left them stranded upon the shores as others forged on ahead without them.
It had been his greatest desire to see the source of the light on the horizon and these woods had robbed him of it. It was a petty anger but still one that had gnawed at the core of him and finally, the shipwright had thought it was high time to change that and had set off through the woods with only a small number of travel companions and it found him at the doorstep of Eöl. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, I was beginning to think perhaps the rumors of enchantments upon these woods were not as exaggerated as I had thought them to be ere we found you.”
A small, amused smile settled on his face. Yes, those rumors. “They’re not, or not entirely, anyway; it’s part of its charm. This place holds a wealth of history, but I suspect you already know much of that.” Eöl sensed an apprehension about this elf that suggested familiarity with the forest, at least to some degree. But how familiar, and in what context? Perhaps he had some close association with Thingol, rather than having heard the tale second-hand; it seemed a likely explanation, but...
Though it was an apt question, common courtesy demanded that he not keep even unexpected guests standing at his door. He pursed his lips. It could wait. “I am Eöl, lord of these woods. Please.” He raised an arm, gesturing in welcome, to usher them in. As the gate opened, several elves came forward to help the undoubtedly weary travelers.
‘Forests have secrets,’ he said gently. ‘It’s practically what they’re for. To hide things. To separate one world from another.’
Deathless, Catherynne M. Valente (via guthcwen)

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“The kingdom comes crashing, Down into ashes. Careful what you’re asking for.” Home ○ About ○ Verses ○ Headcanons ○ Ask
Aredhel reveled in the moment for a while, doing her best to ignore the throb in her arm from the strong grip which held it. She held the embrace, imagining some soft, sweet romance, if only for that little moment. But the moment faded and she pulled back every slightly from the kiss; almost wanting to gauge his reaction.
“ I really hope you keep your word..” Her words were whispered, meant for only their ears to hear. Her glance centred on the dark features upon the others countenance, noting every detail before focusing on peculiar eyes.
When she broke the kiss, Eöl frowned ever so slightly. He released her as she spoke, still keeping the space between them close, and regarded her expression intently, eyes lingering on her lips before drifting up to meet her own gaze.
“Do I usually not?” He responded in an equally private tone, raising a brow in question, half jokingly. As he saw it, he mostly tried to refrain from making serious promises, so then none could say that he hadn’t kept them, but....he supposed the same general rule could not so easily be applied to a wife.
[[Hey, sooo I know I have a few replies to do and I have them drafted, but somehow this week got crazy busy, so I’ll get to them soon!]]
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*sees all the dwarves on the dash and cries because he wants to be friends with them*

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starter for theshipwright
Eöl glanced at the stranger on his doorstep with some sense of mingled unease and annoyance. A servant had brought word that someone had arrived, but he could hardly imagine who might have wandered into his forest, so he went to see for himself. The stranger had a distinctiveness to him that Eöl imagined he would remember, and the dark elf recognized him as Telerin, by the looks of him.
He frowned, regarding him in silence for only a moment longer. His one hand rested gently, yet very purposefully, on the hilt of Anguirel at his side. “Few pass through these woods in current days, but, still, I welcome you, friend.” He finally addressed; though he still eyed the elf with suspicion, he fought back the urge to question and request explanations as to the other’s presence here, and instead intentionally spoke with no overt discourtesy. “I can offer you food, drink, and rest, if you require it; please, accept my hospitality.”
eolthedark:
*scoffs, mostly jokingly*
If that makes you feel better, my friend, then surely.
-mutters-
Like you’re one to talk.
All I’m saying is that I never nearly little anyone’s anything on fire.