One last goodbye between Maedhros and Fingon, until they are to meet again.
Here is my white oliphaunt gift for the @whiteoliphaunt event for @ecofutural!!!! Happy Holidays!! (You may have already guessed since I have been messing around in your blog XD)
Also, first time seriously drawing this pairing. So hyped!!!
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
My @whiteoliphaunt gift for @thiswaycomessomethingwicked !!
A very short comic about Eomer&Grima& and an unnamed horse. I never really drew Eomer or Grima before, hope it turned out okay. Coming up with a design for Grima is fun though :3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
my piece for @whiteoliphaunt 2025!! i had a great time with this piece, canât wait for reveals đ
excerpt below:
The moment that the flames began to die down, though, another voice met that of the minstrel, matching him in power, though lacking in beauty. No, that wasnât right. The voice of the dragon was beautiful, in a harsh, sickly, sort of way. Beautiful just as the amber honey that traps the fly is, beautiful and deadly. It sent the flames forward, and multiplied them, rivers of fire running through the air.
âLittle princeling,â The dragon hissed. âYour reputation precedes you. Whom in Angband has not heard of the elf who can rip apart an orc with naught but his voice, and is just as deadly with a blade?â
âI am flattered,â Maglor gritted out, trying in vain to match the power of the drake, though he was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the day deep in his bones. His eyes were burning, but his tears dried as soon as they met the smoldering air.
âThere will be new stories after today, though.â It crooned. âThe second son of Feanor, burned to a husk just like his father. Does it run in the family?â
The flames were closing in. They burned right through his song, reducing his words to ash. His power was waning, he could feel the abrasions of the smoke on his throat, until nothing but a scratch of sound could be heard.