tajmahart:

Idril Celebrindal and Aredhel

Princess of Gondolin and the White Lady of the Noldor

I imagine they were good friends when alone but when Aredhel spent time with the sons of Fëanor Idril always kept her distance. When they moved to Gondolin their friendship grew. She has a ability to judge character and has the gift to sense intent and to a lesser degree sense certain foreknowledge. She is careful with advise but greatly enjoys light conversation with anyone that she deems has pure intent, if not she will probably treat you passive aggressively.

Aredhel is less concerned with politics and more concerned with more enjoyable things. She did not judge nor scorn in secret, she is straightforward and prefer more active pastimes such as riding and hunting. Her carelessness is what eventually leads to her being ensnared by Eöl, but it was a carelessness that had grown only because of the years of restraint in Gondolin. Her genuine personality makes it hard not to like her but Idril could sometimes find her unwillingness discuss serious matters somewhat off putting. I like to think Aredhel was very intelligent, but liked to pretend the world was different than it really was, something Idril did not.

Here they both walk barefoot in one of the gondolin gardens, but Idril preferred to be barefoot at all times.

✧, if the offer of corrupting jewelry remains open!

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Your hoard will grow and grow, and though your lair overfloweth, your lust for new stories will outpace it. Your word-trove will never be empty, your leather-bound companions never far from your grasp. 

Wear this pin, and you will never want for treasures. 

(this sounds like the best worst idea ever) ✧

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“Oh little minstrel, let this clasp smooth your words and let them flow like honey. Let it make your tongue light and your fingers lighter. Unbind your voice and let it free– keep no secrets from it, and it will give your music wings.” 

(last thing alive meme) “long live the king” >w>

doegred:

meme: If it was my muse’s last hour alive, what would your muse say?
for @misbehavingmaiar

Bile in his throat. A bitter flavour that seemed to choke him on its own.
There should be, there was, an answer on the tip of his tongue; an answer as sharp as the dagger now embedded in his chest. Then the knife twisted and a wave of blood rose to his lips, smothering any word in a gurgle.
A corona of blinding light circled his sight, growing like a livid halo surrounding the Maia’s grin.
The Noldo opened his mouth again, a last desperate attempt, but his mind itself seemed to fade, to unravel like an incomplete weave: the words lost in the curves of warp and weft sliding away from each other.
Then there was no need for words anymore.  
 

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