Tag: oh

buckybatnes:

Given that Death Is Not The End for elves…imagine elves dying on a battlefield and their last words are all shit like “remember to bring my shit when you sail back to Valinor” or “I hid the moonshine in the armoury” or “any messages you want me to pass to mom?” Or “Remember to burn all my naughty pictures before my room gets reassigned”

And like, at the kinslayings just imagine a Teleri going “DONT LET ME CATCH YOU IN MANDOS BITCH” and putting up their middle finger before spitefully ripping out the sword that stabbed them and falling over dead.

#feanor: [about to spontaneously combust in his sons’ arms] your mom is going to tear me a fucking new one for this when I get back    #‘and his likeness has never again appeared in Arda neither has his spirit left the halls of Mandos’ (via @lunavagantt)

This is my house, where good food is not eaten (not anymore).
This is my house, where good drink is not drunk (not anymore).
My house, where good seats are not sat in (not anymore)
My house, where good beds are not laid in (not anymore)…
My house, where no happy husband dwells with me,
My house, where no sweet child dwells with me.
My house, through whose doors, I, though jts mistress, never grandly pass-
Never grandly pass, the doors of this house,
In which I dwell no more.
I- let me go into my old house, let me go in,
Let me lie down, let me lie down!
Let me go into my storehouse, oh let me in
Let me lie down, let me lie down there,
I- Let me lie down to sleep in my own house,
It was sweet sleep I had there.
Let me lie down in my house, let me lie down there in my bed,
It was a good bed.
I- Let me sit down on my own chair-
It was a good chair.

The Destroyed House, a poem written by a refugee from the sacked city of Isin sometime between 2200 and 1900 BCE, now in South Central Iraq.  (via valarhalla)

nimium-amatrix-ingenii-sui:

Endorenna by Qitian


“But when the devouring wave rolled over the land and Númenor
toppled to its fall, then [Elendil] would have been overwhelmed and
would have deemed it the lesser grief to perish, for no wrench of death
could be more bitter than the loss and agony of that day; but the great
wind took him, wilder than any wind that Men had known, roaring from the
west, and it swept his ships far away; and it rent their sails and
snapped their masts, hunting the unhappy men like straws upon the
water.”

(Presumably) Anárion’s ships making it out of
the bay of Rómenna just in time, leaving the ruin of their homeland
towards Middle-earth.

The counterpart to Elenna, because I love bookends. Created for @silmarillionwritersguild‘s Silmarillion40
collection.