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Today's Document
DEAR READER
almost home
RMH
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@leucisticpuffin
Ndani-tháro (Denethor) of the Nandor never saw sunlight as he was born and died before the First Sunrise. But he would have loved the fresh green of the forests in spring and summer.
Cosplay & edit: Foedhrass
Photo: @lymira during our 2025 The_eldar_cosplay vacation
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my elfsona (q.m.)yulatië/(q.p.)fangamilya/(s.)mengil. he has no glasses and cannot see. born on the helcaraxë in Y.T. 1499, almost froze to death. almost burned to death in sacking associated with the dagor aglareb. almost burned to death in sacking associated with the dagor bragollach. almost killed by orcs fleeing hithlum. almost trampled to death by loose horse in skirmish associated with the nirnaeth arnoediad. almost trampled to death by glaurung in sacking of nargothrond. almost died of exposure in the year following sack of nargothrond. almost died of infected stab wound after the battle of the thousand caves. almost died of exposure after the sacking and ruin of doriath. almost died of smoke inhalation after the third kinslaying in the havens. drowned at some point in Y.S. 580. recuperating in mandos.
Thomas Moran (American, 1837–1926), "Fingal’s Cave, Island of Staffa, Scotland" (details), 1884
Staffa by Kyle Bonallo (ig: @kylebonallo)
reblog to give a strawberry to the person you reblogged this from
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Snowdonia, Wales
wander_linaa
i have no wings to fly
♥ 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.
(Ao3)(SWG)
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!
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.
(Image from sansplans on Flickr)
Something To Do
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.”
“You think I should build it anew, here?”
“You could. Or at least, something like it.”
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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.
Puffin by Kyle Bonallo (ig: @kylebonallo)
Nikon AF600, Fuji 400, Rhinog Fawr, Cymru by rabbet on bsky
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My roses have begun to bloom! I wish I could share the scent with all my mutuals, it is wonderful on my balcony 🥰
And my new rose pot has some tiny buds! Very excited to see them when they’re ready 🌼
"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"
