fic title: nobody can save me now; the only sound is a battle cry

first-son-of-finwe:

sparklecryptid:

On the battlefield Arfin is a menace. His blades, sharp as scythes, cut through flesh the way an oar cuts through water. He moves smoothly, silently, as though he weighs nothing and is made of air itself. The only reminder of his mortality is the bloodied gash that starts at the bridge of his nose and crosses his cheek to his ear.

Fell and fey he has become, the camp whispers when they think their king can’t hear them. There are whispers comparing him to Feanor, to Fingolfin, they say Arfin is more like a storm than the sea. More like a tempest than a clear day.

They wonder how it took them so long to see it.

Arafinwe was never the safe one.

And now in the middle of a war, he has no reason to pretend to be.

(He meets with Sauron on the field, the world holds it’s breath.

Neither the Maia or Arfin left their blade, instead, a smirk worms its way onto Saurons’s face.

The Maia sings, and Arfin’s rage is so unholy, so unrefined and raw, that when the High King of the Noldor opens his mouth, it’s as though a hurricane came storming out.)

@gxldenfinwe

halethofbrethil:

Beregond and Pippin by William O’Connor

swaggins-of-swagend:

Sauron Through The Ages: Part 1 (Before the Count of Time)

Top: Sauron in his semi-elemental form
Bottom: Sauron, the Maia of

Aulë

humanoidhistory:

The sun rises over Earth’s horizon, illustrated by cosmonaut Alexei Leonov, recalling the 1965 mission when he became the first human to walk in space.

Do you have any ideas about what Tolkien means when he talks about certain kinds of stories or aspects of stories as being “high?” I think that gravitas or a wide reach is part of it, but not all of it. The way he talks about it, it seems more like a sort of tone? I just wanted to know if you had something to say about this!

gurguliare:

Ok, so: “It should possess the tone and quality that I desired, somewhat cool and
clear, be redolent of our ‘air’ (the clime and soil of the North West,
meaning Britain and the hither parts of Europe: not Italy or the Aegean,
still less the East), and, while possessing (if I could achieve it) the
fair elusive beauty that some call Celtic (though it is rarely found in
genuine ancient Celtic things), it should be ‘high’, purged of the
gross, and fit for the more adult mind of a land long now steeped in
poetry.”

Keep reading

m8tuna:

Time Stands Still (At The Iron Hill)

the best part of the book and a great song 😎

elk64-sketch:

Some of the watercolor I did the last week. Not golden gouache this time but gilding !

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