Tag: gwindor

excerpts-from-tolkien:

“Then Beleg’s burial  in those bleak regions
did Flinding fashion;  where he fell sadly
he left him lying,  and lightly o’er him
with long labour  the leaves he poured.
But Túrin tearless  turning suddenly
on the corse cast him,  and kissed the mouth
cold and open,  and closed the eyes.
His bow laid he  black beside him,
and words of parting  wove about him:
‘Now fare well, Beleg,  to feasting long
neath Tengwethil  in the timeless halls
where drink the Gods,  neath domes golden
o’er the sea shining.’  His song was shaken,
but the tears were dried  in his tortured eyes
by the flames of anguish  that filled his soul.
His mind once more  was meshed in darkness
as heaped they high  o’er the head beloved
a mound of mould  and mingled leaves.
Light lay the earth  on the lonely dead;
heavy lay the woe  on the heart that lived.
That grief was graven  with grim token
on his face and form,  nor faded ever:
and this was the third  of the throes of Túrin.”

–J.R.R. Tolkien,The History of Middle-earth III: The Lays of Beleriand, “The Lay of the Children of Húrin III: Failivrin”

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Art by Anke Eissmann

‘Follow me, Flinding, from the forest cursed!
Let us haste to his help, to Hell if need be
or to death by the darts of the dread Glamhoth!’: and Beleg bounded from the bracken madly,
like a deer driven by dogs baying
from his hiding in the hills and hollow places…

concept: Beleg/Turin as a Diana/Actaeon forerunner, but gay (via gurguliare)

excerpts-from-tolkien:

But courage and strength were renewed in the Elf of Nargothrond, and departing from Taur-nu-Fuin he led Túrin far away. Never once as they wandered together on the long and grievous paths did Túrin speak, and he walked as one without wish or purpose, while the year waned and winter drew on over the northern lands. But Gwindor was ever beside him to guard him and guide him; and thus they passed westward over Sirion and came at length to the Beautiful Mere and Eithel Ivrin, the springs whence Narog rose beneath the Mountains of Shadow. There Gwindor spoke to Túrin saying: ‘Awake Túrin son of Húrin! On Ivrin’s lake is endless laughter. She is fed from crystal fountains unfailing, and guarded from defilement by Ulmo, Lord of Waters, who wrought her beauty in ancient days.’ Then Túrin knelt and drank from that water; and suddenly he cast himself down, and his tears were unloosed at last, and he was healed of his madness.

–J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin, “The Death of Beleg”

swampdiamonds:

gurguliare:

several weeks later i’m still thinking about @swampdiamonds’ morwen and nienor go to nargothrond early au and like ……… idk i keep contemplating a version of gwindor/nienor that’s like, gwindor ignores his own very obvious continuous flirting because 1) unthinkable! 2) definitely at least unthinkable to OTHER people, right, like, no one, nienor included, could possibly misinterpret his intentions given what he’s become. and meanwhile, finduilas and turin are losing their minds,

THIS DOESN’T REALLY HAVE TO BE ROMANTIC PER SE doomed friendship polygon is what my heart always craves >_>

#morwen: gives him the talk but so aggressively and with such preemptive disappointment that he can’t make it out
#‘of course a lord of the elves cannot marry her. but must he taunt her?’
#gwindor: are we talking about celebrimbor or
#nienor meanwhile is the only person as convinced as gwindor that they’re all hallucinating
#mostly
#he is her pal and the sun shines between the bones of his withered one hand so WHAT
#they fall asleep on each other in—hey do you think nargothrond has a subway
#finduilas ever deeper in self-hatred: i thought i was ‘over’ one person in this city. no? i don’t get that?
#she isn’t even over nienor.

#turin giving nienor a parallel Talk like
#‘your friendship with gwindor is not a wise one and you should not encourage him’ #nienor: ???
#also: fuck you you’re not my mom!!! #their first big Sibling Fight!
#it’s heartwarming.

Then Taur-na-Fuin entangled my feet / in its mazes enmeshed; and madness took me / that I wandered witless, unwary stumbling / and beating the boles of the brooding pines / in idle anger – and the Orcs heard me. / They were camped in a clearing, that close at hand / by mercy I missed. Their marching road / is beaten broad through the black shadows / by wizardry warded from wandering Elves; / but dread they know of the Deadly Nightshade, / and in haste only do they hie that way.

Tolkien, J. R. R. The History of Middle-Earth III: The Lays of Beleriand. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. (London: HarperCollins, 2002.) 36. (The Lay of the Children of Húrin, Version 1, II “Beleg”)

@swampdiamonds

(via gurguliare)