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♥ ominous, known, wind, sounds ♥ but the sea is wide, and I can't swim over / neither have I wings to fly ♥ All my stories are about being left, / all yours about leaving. So we should have known.
A great storm roared outside the Havens, the winds making her little home shudder ominously. The twins slept in a basket of shore reeds at her feet, wrapped in blankets stuffed with the down of shorebirds, blissfully unaware of the danger nature posed to them. She worked by candlelight, the sounds of her loom clacking rhythmically. This fabric would become a tunic, she thought, for Eärendil, away at sea. How she wished to sail again, wished for the winds to be useful again, instead of frightful. She understood why he left, again and again. She wished he didn’t have to.
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Biomechanical elves, feat. Maglor and Galadriel! Because you don’t live for ~5000 years on one hröa without needing some maintenance.
Additional thoughts below the cut!
Okay, here’s the logic:
1.) Elves live forever unless killed
2.) Elves cannot grow back limbs like starfish (c.f. maedhros)
3.) Elves, due to their preternatural endurance, are very likely to survive having limbs hacked off (c.f. maedhros again)
4.) Elves, especially in the First and Second Ages, spend a lot of time trying to stab each other and/or fighting things that want to rip them to shreds (orcs, werewolves, etc.)
Rinse and repeat long enough, and by the Third Age, most older elves would have several serious permanent injuries. Conveniently, elves also have a cultural predilection for a.) the healing arts and b.) magic smithery, which gives us an excellent fast-track to automail-type fantasy prostheses.
I drew Maglor and Galadriel, who have decent odds of rocking the most metal-per-hröa by the time of LotR.
Maglor has a vocal prosthesis (maybe for smoke inhalation during the War of Wrath, specially calibrated for singing-laments-upon-the-shore purposes); a cranial implant/helm (I like to think Elwing chucked something heavy at him); a gauntlet (to restore fine motor control to his Silmaril-chucking and harp-playing hand), and a prosthetic leg.
Galadriel has several implants and a prosthetic arm. The crown-with-circuitry is a helm designed to offset migraines (a common side effect of peering into things that are, once were, and have not yet come to pass.) It was made for her by Celeborn, who is her husband AND her mechanic, and is also why he gave her the nickname Galadriel.
For obvious reasons, prostheses are wayyyy more common in Middle Earth than Valinor! There are some prosthetic and mobility aid craftspeople in Aman who make tools for elves who were injured on the Great Journey back in the Years of the Trees (or born with conditions that necessitated it!) However, I think the technology probably advanced a whole lot faster in the East, so skilled mechanics arriving in Valinor would be warmly welcomed. I drew the prostheses with exposed metal for the Aesthetics, but I do think elves would develop some kind of grippy skin-like surface for functionality.
we will make this place our home: Chapter One Hundred and Twenty - The Door Opens
That evening I vanished again into the library, to find out whatever I could about ghosts. Maedhros said almost every question in the world could be answered if you found the right book, and he was usually right. Perhaps there was some explanation for what I saw, hidden away in records and histories. After all, I reasoned, I could not be the only child in the world who saw ghosts. And this could not be the only old house where memories ran through the passageways screaming “Ammë! Curvo put glue in my hair!”
So I pulled out every book I could find about Formenos, and about ghosts, and one which claimed to explain time, and laid them all out on the table. I spent the evening frantically flicking through the pages, looking for answers in what seemed like endless word-soup, and finding nothing at all. The books about local history included folktales and superstitions, including the rumour of ghost-sightings, but they were campfire-story ghosts of the kind young Makalaurë used to terrify his brothers (denying all responsibility when Curufinwë had nightmares): a jilted bride who threw herself in the river and was now supposed to appear wailing and dripping on rainy nights, an eerie voice in the woods, a drunk who refused to leave the Blacksmith’s Arms even after he died. Real ghosts weren’t like that! The books about ghosts proved much the same, all evil spirits and vengeance and wailing, so I only flicked through a few pages before casting them aside. Next I tried the book about time, but it proved far too complicated; any answers it held were hidden in complicated words and long looping sentences and diagrams which felt like putting my brain through a washing-machine.
In which Elrond seeks answers about the ghosts - and Tyelperinquar. Read the full chapter here on AO3.
a double drabble written for the 6/6/2026 SWG Instadrabble session for the prompt: Green, Gems, Sunlight, Idle
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Celebrían had never been content to be idle—even the much needed rest of Lórien had chafed at her after a time, as she missed Elrond, missed her children, missed her home. It would be easier to bear, this long separation, if she could just be doing something.
Now she sat on a beach outside of Avallónë with her uncle, watching the sunlight play on the waves. Across the bay the gem-strewn beaches of Alqualondë glimmered like rainbows, red and green and blue and gold. “Well, what do you want to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She stretched out her feet so her toes just brushed the waves as they whispered up over the soft sand. “Well, I want to go home.”
Finrod hummed quiet acknowledgment. That was why Celebrían loved him most—she could say things like that, and know herself understood, know that he would not try to convince her that it was better there, that she should try her best to put Middle-earth behind her.
“There are many here who remember Imladris,” Finrod said finally, “who miss it.”
Textile painting on linen about the slaying of the cold-drake Scatha by Fram, the fourth Lord of the Éothéod, inspired by the depiction of Sigurð slaying Fáfnir from the Hylestad Stave Church.
(A task for the 20th Tolkien Mailing Competition.)
the rider bore them all across the sea. when they grew tired they would fly close to the waves- that they would cool their feet. and soon enough they could make out a silver light, growing brighter along the horizon.
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"In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions in many journeys"
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It would be overstating matters a bit to say this letter relates to exploration and new lands (as per the prompts for Day 2), but the author of the letter has just taken up a new post in a new location. She is Edhellos, the widow of Prince Angrod, recently a refugee from Dorthonion.
Edhellos, now Warden of White Horn Tower, to Cirdan, Lord of Eglarest and Brithombar.
Thank you again for all the gracious assistance you have lent us! I am happy to report that all is going well so far in this our new venture. Although the previous warden you had installed was evidently very glad to be away—I gather Carallim had greatly missed serving you on a ship, which is his true vocation, and being stuck in a tower staring out over the sea was a poor substitute for him—we found everything in Barad Nimras in extremely good working order and I trust we will succeed in keeping it so.
I have put up the naltalma apparatus in the pavilion on the viewing platform and turned the largest room on the floor below into my room of records. Your people are viewing these manifestations of Noldorin newfangledness with some scepticism. Captain Feinnen, in particular, may have something to say you about this, when you next meet. As the plan is for him to be stationed here regularly with me, when he is not patrolling the coast, I hope I can convince him that I am not more eccentric than he can tolerate!
I will write again soon, when we have settled in a little more. I wish to be useful to you, my friend, and not only by freeing up Carallim for other duties closer to his heart.
Edhellos
With thanks to Chestnut for the names of the two Falathrim characters.
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