#gatheringrust

Beleg had offered to walk her home and she’d never deny the company of a friend. She could see the warm lights of the cabin’s windows in the distance. “I think tonight was a lovely example of those still in Aman, remembering what a dying art. I am glad to enjoy that with a friend, I tell you now. And enjoying the.” She paused. What kind of liquor had it been? “The drinks, Beleg! The drinks. Anyway, my house!” She pointed. “Thank you!“

"I agree."

What memories he had of ancient days in the glittering halls of Menegroth or under the green and fair branches of Doriath. Alas, so many noble partiers were long gone now!

"It was good tonight." At least there were some people around that still appreciated the old ways. It left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Or was that all the drinking?

Careful, he's into that

"My, this is certainly not how I expect one to treat their customers." Annatar was entirely unbothered by the blade at his throat; in fact, he seemed amused, rather than annoyed or concerned.

Question Time

"Is that even a question? Get the straws."

my friends gave me the launch codes for the nukes / @gatheringrust

you and gracie sent me the exact same question so for you i will answer silm. just as i promised.

i'm gatekeeping Ecthelion from now on, NONE OF YOU CAN BE TRUSTED. Some of the things I've seen make me wonder if the people who talk about/write for/draw him read Silm OR Fall of Gondolin. I'm sick of seeing him be malewifed!!!!! We are talking about the guy who took down Gothmog. The WARDEN OF THE GATE?????? The guy whose name became a rallying battle cry and a terror to the enemy????? The guy whose Sindarin name means "One With Sharp Will" ???? THAT GUY??????

I have seen some truly APPALLING bimbofication of this character that turn him into a empty headed cardboard cutout of a person, usually just as an accessory to another character and i HATE that. To me, Ecthelion is both physically strong and highly intelligent, and unafraid to stick to his guns. He takes his duties seriously, and he loves his city. He DIED for it. And this isn't to say that he can't be soft (though, I kind of hate the association with that word sometimes). Earendil asks for him after their escape and when told he is dead, cares no longer to see the streets of Gondolin, so we know that Ecthelion was an important person to him.

I just really don't like when people dull the edges off of characters that are a bit sharp, and to me Ecthelion is one of those characters. And I write him a bit sharp, someone who contrasts Glorfindel's warm openness with a slightly more closed-off seriousness to him. He's committed to what he does and he takes it very seriously, and I think he brings that seriousness into the relationships he has with others.

Ranyasúre had not ever meant to find herself on the borders of Doriath. It was a place many of her people said was cursed or unwelcoming; indeed she believed it. Yet she was desperate and braver than that which hunted her and her brother— so into the treeline she went. She fixed Sardamo, draped over his own elk, behind her. Rani had all but forgotten the grievous wound in her own leg; her brother was in peril. Sardamo had lost consciousness after they were attacked riding south of Hithlum and she desperately needed him to be safe. He was innocent, he was good and kind and needed to be spared. Who cared if she bled out? Another kinslayer in the dirt— but Sardamo was gentle, Sardamo deserved a second chance. She rode hard into the woods. This was his elk. He always said they could hear him, watch him, and spread word of him. She had thought it was creepy for years. But this one (she didn’t know its name, he rode a few different ones when they were around) certainly seemed to understand haste. That was when she saw the door. Oh, thank all that was holy. Hopefully this meant help. She dismounted, limping on her right slightly, and knocked on the door frantically. @gatheringrust

Elvidnir is not a place incarnates were meant to find. The magics that ensorcelled it were powerful and disorienting, to the point even some ainu struggled to find the way without a call to purpose. To even those familiar, it tricked the eyes, the minds. Like the inherited memory of butterflies, swerving around a mountain that no longer stands, rationale dictates there's no clear path. No hall, no stead.

But the desperation of children cannot be discounted.

They aren't the first to appear, weary worn and half-alive on her stoop. And the stack of plant stems balance on her open basket, hung from the crook of her elbow suggested they weren't a surprise either. Yarrow and chokeberry and stonecap.

Tongue lolling and legs shaking from exhaustion, Rossiel slunk past Rani and behind the nearest large piece of furniture that could hide the bulk of her four-legged shape before allowing herself to collapse with a thump--

He did not get the message.

No, Eöl is unused to receiving gifts, and dubious of food he has not seen prepared. He unwrapped the package, curious, and looked between Aredhel and the jerky with a frown, before wrapping it again.