Fingon.

thought i heard a red-winged blackbird red-winged blackbird down my road he'll be in there singing his heart out he'll be telling me stories too of where he went to winter last year of how he's going back there too

Well hello, Mr hair commander 😌

Prince Turukáno, already dreaming about hidden cities ✨

Like an old little leaf in its hopeless dream Can't forget its bygone beauty, dance on the wind I can wait all my life to be taken away with flow Autumn shrouded by rain turns to cold winter snow When the birds fly away I'm still left here alone I still search for my own land where flowers grow

~ Land Where Flowers Grow, Lind Erebros

The leaf is from Liriodendron tulipifera, a beautiful tree whose flowers strongly resemble tulips. It doesn't usually grow near the sea, but it's my favourite tree, and I liked the parallel between Maglor and the leaf—both alone and far from home.

Day #190 - Rescuer

Playing with (slightly) different styles today

The Silmarillion according to someone who has never read it but only picked up bits and pieces from the tumblr fandom. For shits and giggles! 

Oh. OH.

“It's not a code,” said Lindir. He clutched the stones tight in his hands. “They’re mine, not the orcs. I hid them inside my robes so that no one would take them away. They’re my - my family.”

“Family?” repeated Lord Maedhros.

Lindir laid the stones out, taking comfort in the pattern. “Like this,” he said. “It always has to be like this. No - no you’re not looking at it the right way.” He tugged at Lord Maedhros’ metal hand so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. “See? Now they’re in the right order.”

“What does it mean?”

Could he explain? It became so muddled in his head that putting it to words felt impossible. Lindir would try. Maybe, if he did a good enough job, they would let him keep his stones and not hurt him. He was so tired of being hurt.

“This one goes first,” he said, pointing to the red pebble, “because it's the biggest. The oldest. Then - ” he moved past the gap to point at the next one “ - this one, which is white like the - like the moon. Then this one with its dark spot in the centre and then this one with the little iron flakes that make it shine and these two, which are stuck together. The littlest that are two-in-one must always go last. That’s important. They can’t be put in any other order.”

“And here?” There was an odd note in Lord Maedhros’ voice. A slight waver of pain beneath the gentle calm. “You’ve left a space between the first two stones. What goes between them?”

“There has to be a space.” Lindir twisted his hands. The light inside his head hurt, something crooked pressing down down down against it, threatening to break him all over again. “There has to be. Always. I - I don’t know - I lost - something else goes there. I lost it. It flew away. But I have to leave a space.” He started to shake. “Please don’t take them. They’re my family. I have to protect them. Please, please, don’t take them away.”

“I won’t,” said Lord Maedhros. The odd note had grown stronger. Lindir glanced up to see that the towering Fëanorian leader had turned his face away, the bright light making it look like something wet glittered on his face. “I promise you, Laurë. No one will ever separate you from your family again.”

My little gay elves I hope nothing bad ever happens to them.

It all makes sense now.

I just realized why so few of Feanor's sons are married:

Feanor is just that good at burning ships.

Maedhros and Maglor, enjoying the music and being cute ✨

@maedhrosmaglorweek