#elesianne

Suddenly on the Night of Midwinter

Fic on AO3 here – Art on DeviantArt here and above – created for the @tolkienrsb event

fic by Maglor-still-lives (AO3, Tumblr) – art by Elesianne (AO3, Tumblr, fanfiction.net)

Fic rating T (Warning: graphic depictions of violence) – Art rating G

Fic characters and pairing: Fingon, Lalwen, Fingolfin, Original Elf Character(s) 

Word count: ~5,900 words

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

answered here and here, but! i have more surprises in my me: silent scream by angela marsons! most of my surprise stemmed from the fact that i found this completely randomly and picked it up on a whim, and that pretty much never goes well for me? but while this is by no means a perfect book (for many, many reasons), it was highly entertaining and easy to read and sometimes that's exactly what you need!

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

Good evening! Your word is: TOUGH.

Jaskier let himself drop unceremoniously next to the fire. It was rather painfully devoid of any kind of meat this evening. Usually, when sleeping outside, there might be rabbits or a pheasant crackling away above the flames, if they were lucky. If they were very lucky, it would be a deer. 

The recently-dispatched werewolf stalking the forest had done a rather thorough job or either eating or scaring off anything worth hunting. Tomorrow, once the village was awake, they’d return for Geralt’s pay and buy apples and fresh bread. Tonight, it would be whatever Geralt could find in the bottom of his pack, which he was digging through meticulously. 

Jaskier’s stomach gurgled noisily as he stared into the fire. He shifted, feeling awkward, well aware that Geralt could hear it. Geralt looked up, his expression almost apologetic, then passed him a little bundle wrapped in linen.

It was cured meat - the last of the cured meat, Jaskier assumed. The rich, beefy smell had dulled somewhat after a week in the bottom of Geralt’s bag.

Geralt spotted Jaskier’s expression. “It’s all we have,” he said.

“Is this it?” Jaskier frowned, “What about you?”

Geralt shrugged. “I’m a witcher. I’ll live.”

“Oh, no, we’re not doing this again.” Jaskier shook his head. “None of this I’m a witcher business. I refuse to eat while you starve.”

He tried, with no success at all, to rip the strip of meat in half. It was greasy and twisted in his fingers, refusing to break. He huffed, then was struck with sudden inspiration, and lifted the morsel to his mouth to tear the damn thing with his teeth.

He paused. “Ah…” he said, realising suddenly that Geralt’s sensibilities were more delicate than his own, and he would probably not care for a piece of meat that Jaskier had slobbered all over, “Do you mind? Sorry, it’s just so tough…”

Geralt was staring at him. His eyes were fixed on the meat, poised between Jaskier’s lips. Clearly he was hungrier than he was letting on. Jaskier sighed.

29. Hair Braiding/Cutting/Care

Idril could see at once that the poor little princess had hardly any ellith looking after her. Ellyn were not so different from their female counterparts, not really—but little girls needed other ladies in their life, and poor Elwing had none, or very few.

Which was why, before any politics or even settling in, she handed Eärendil off to Tuor and requested an audience with the princess of Doriath.

“Your Highness,” said the girl, curtsying properly. She was so young—even if she was part mortal, like Idril’s son, and grew faster for that, she was too young to carry such weight. Idril wanted to lift some of that off her, let her be a little girl for once.

“None of that,” Idril said firmly, plopping herself down on a cushion she knocked off a chair. “From one exiled princess to another—if we can’t be honest with ourselves, who can we be honest with?”

Elwing stared at her, then giggled. She, too, plopped down on the floor.

“I’m Elwing,” she said shyly.

“I’m Idril,” she replied. She tilted her head. “Goodness! When was the last time an elleth braided your hair?”

Elwing shrugged. “Evranin, my nurse, she...well, the orcs got her last year. Thranduil’s in charge of me now, but he’s only a few decades older than me and he’s not happy about looking after a child.” She said the word with some distaste, and Idril’s heart squeezed.

“May I?” Idril asked, and was relieved when Elwing nodded, scooting closer to her.

“I know a thing or two about nurses and young lords who don’t want to look after you,” she sighed, her hands busy unraveling Elwing’s braid. “I was young when my mother died—older than you, you brave girl, but still young—and when anyone managed to distract my father long enough for him to let go of me and get some sleep...” She shook her head. “Well, Uncle Finno had a good heart, but he had a lot on his mind.”

“Thranduil doesn’t have an excuse,” Elwing grumbled. “He just thinks he’s too cool to take care of me. Not that I need taking care of.”

“Of course not,” Idril hummed, though Elwing looked to be the same age as Eärendil and certainly needed a minder. But you can’t tell an eight year old that and expect them to take it well, especially not one as proud and stubborn and damaged as Elwing. Maybe it wasn’t that Elwing needed space to be a child; maybe she needed someone to take her seriously, too.

“Tell me what life is like here, Elwing,” she suggested, beginning to twist her hair into Vanyar-style braids. “My people look to me...but I need help from a wise princess like you to tell them what to expect.”

Elwing sat up a little straighter, and Idril’s heart broke a little more. “Well,” she began, “aside from orcs there’s Kinslayers to avoid, and we mustn’t forget how fickle Ossë can be...”

She’d be alright, this one, Idril knew. But while she could, Idril wanted her not to be alone—and she was happy to help in that regard.

Hello, folks, and welcome back to the TRSB Summer Showcase!  Today we have a lovely TRSB writer...

Elesianne

I wrote my first Lord of the Rings fic when I was twelve, kept writing fics in my native language for a few years, and returned to the Tolkien fandom in my mid-twenties when I reread the Silmarillion and was inspired to write fanfiction again, this time in English. I've posted 53 fics in the 3,5 years since. I studied English language and philology at university in part because I was inspired by Tolkien and his passion for languages.

 I'm elesianne on Tumblr ( @elesianne) , AO3 and fanfiction.net.

 I'm writing a fic for this year's Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang. May we all have lots of inspiration and fun working on our submissions for this event!

Ever-beloved

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: Major character death (of an elf, so not permanent) and some canon-typical violence

 Wordcount: ~9,700 words

Through all the struggles and triumphs of the Noldor, Angrod and Edhellos hold on to their love and their faith in each other.

Haha, I asked you this one precisely because I thought you probably don't put much value in rules! (I think writing rules is meant here as stuff more like 'show, don't tell', 'don't use many adjectives or adverbs' etc. dialogue in quotes falls more into the realm of SPAG)

LMAO, i’m flattered!! :P that makes sense tbh, but i would have an even harder time thinking of a writing rule I refuse to break. there’s probably writing rules along those lines that i don’t break bc i don’t know how to break them effectively but not ones i have consciously weighed and decided to abide by

actualmermaid replied to your post “12 for fic writer ask?”

I’m a big advocate of “you should know the rules before you break them, but once you know how to effectively break rules, go wild”