Isildur Did Nothing Wrong

Throwback to when I watched Rings of Power before it hurt me and painted a replica Númenórean helmet because…Isildur.

I will give RoP* another chance this season if:

Isildur actually has screentime and meaningful character development!

His season two “storyline” is retconned or never mentioned again.

They don’t botch Anárion and there are plenty of scenes with his brother (have to build up the relationship that’s been completely ignored!)

A nice Númenórean wife is introduced within the next two seasons, no rush.

They keep the horse. Do not kill off the horse or I swear….

I revisited my work from a few years ago and made some edits (removed references to a certain series that has since diverged too far from Isildur canon).

Behind every good story is a lesson

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88352361

Loyalty and drama, sevenfold

The Founders

Surely the greatest hardships are behind us.

The twins spy land ahead, their fear subsiding along with the tempestuous waves. The end of a terrifying journey. They discuss how swiftly they will defeat the enemy, the bliss and freedom they were promised.

Yes, we have seen enough sorrows! It was a hard road but victory is soon in our grasp!

Their brothers do not take them as seriously as they would like, but they convince themselves they are just as strong and brave. They convince themselves they made the right choice.

Let us promise to never part from each other.

Could we have stopped this? Is it too late?

He goes alone. The others are weeping, confused, frozen in grief. It is a terrible sight but his worries and fears lie elsewhere. He stumbles over broken stone, desperate to find the answer.

This will break father. Yet all may not be lost…

The torchlight exposes all: the walls are smashed in, heavy doors torn off their hinges. The chamber is bare. A dread creeps over him. This is a beginning and an end.

Then there is no hope. He will never escape from the darkness. The Silmarils! They are taken!

Everything I built is gone.

For a brief moment he considers turning back. But there is nothing left now; an ash covered lake, broken stone, fond memories lost among the ruins.

Those were my lands, my people. All those riches, gone to waste. All I had done to prove myself. Gone.

He rides south, refusing to let the survivors see the despair upon his face. Only his wrath shall be known, for it drives him onward. Dragonfire is behind him, yet what lies ahead is more frightening.

I was happy there. I was complete. Never will I feel it again.

Hounds are not so loyal, are they?

He does not expect an answer. There is madness creeping into the woods yet the trees remain silent. He plunges his knife into one, stabbing deeper as his rage grows.

Oh, but I know loyalty! I keep my oaths…

He pulls out the blade, closes his fist around it. He does not feel it cut into his palm. Birds flee the branches above, calling out to him: “Let go! Or it will destroy you!” He does not hear.

And I swear, one day I will have my revenge even if it kills me!

Do I dare commit this sorrow to a song? Spill my woes onto the page and lay bare my grief?

To relive it will be agony, though it already plays endlessly in his mind. Perhaps those shadows will cease to haunt him if he is honest, remorseful.

Yes, I must! Let me atone with this lament.

It is his gift to touch hearts, a great responsibility; who else could bring tears to eyes that did not witness it? They may not understand, but they will soon know every detail, every horror. The end of bliss.

It began with the darkness….

Why do they still look upon me with pity?

He slashes the air with his sword, catching a reflection of himself in the shine of the blade. Gone are the hollows beneath his eyes, the frailty in his movements. Yet he does not recognize himself.

There are far worse parts of yourself to lose. Like your sanity.

And there lies his greatest fight; a fight from within. He could let the fire win, allow the flames to consume him completely. But promises were made so he must go on.

They should look upon me with fear, for I fear myself!

@feanorianweek

Of Haleth

Heroic tales of Men are told

Their deeds and sacrifices bold

Yet oft forgotten is one tale

Of how a woman did prevail

And led her people to the west

This feat would become Haleth’s test

Named by the Haladin as chief

With quiet strength despite her grief

Great heart and courage she possessed

Which left the Eldar most impressed

Unyielding like a shining blade

Her mind made up, her choices weighed

To cross foul lands with ready swords

Without the aid of Elven lords

And thus The Lady earned her place

My art contribution to the @feanorian-zine (check it out if you haven’t already!)