#tss2019

"And as the sun rose over the mountains, casting its golden rays over the lands of Blessed Realm at the Fourth Age of the world, the last of the sons of Fëanor entered the world once more. And as he walked upon the plains out of the Temple of Irmo, he shall see someone waiting for him."

My submission to the @officialtolkiensecretsanta exchange! And a gift to the dearest @imbirart ❤ I hope you like it! I wanted to do something with them in Valinor, whilst also carrying the weight of their experiences in Middle Earth, and this whole piece is basically inspired by the theme of new beginnings, which is timely for the new years ☺

My @tolkiensecretsanta gift for @scarybxnes / @scarybxnesart  💖

Aaaand it’s time to reveal my Tolkien Secret Santa art-> Merry Christmas, @vinyatar! Have this winter Fingolfin postcard :D I hope you have great holidays!

Much thanks to @officialtolkiensecretsanta for organizing this wonderful event🖤

“Almost got it, Mai...”

DOL AMROTH // “But beyond, in the great fief of Belfalas, dwelt Prince Imrahil in his castle of Dol Amroth by the sea, and he was of high blood, and his folk also, tall men and proud with sea-grey eyes.” - Minas Tirith, The Return of the King 

éowyn + fingolfin || parallels ⚝ for @but-what-if-i-fly ⚝ @officialtolkiensecretsanta

          Then Morgoth hurled aloft Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld, and swung it down like a bolt of thunder. But Fingolfin sprang aside, and Grond rent a mighty pit in the earth, whence smoke and fire darted. Many times Morgoth essayed to smite him, and each time Fingolfin leaped away, as a lightning shoots from under a dark cloud; and he wounded Morgoth with seven wounds, and seven times Morgoth gave a cry of anguish, whereat the hosts of Angband fell upon their faces in dismay, and the cries echoed in the Northlands...

—The Silmarillion, “Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin”

          ...There some paces from him sat the great beast, and all seemed dark about it, and above it loomed the Nazgûl Lord like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrecy, had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.