Month: June 2016

The swan circles the port of Umbar, really quite miserable. His wings are *exhausted*, and he has never been this constipated in his *life*. What had he ever done to deserve this life? He had been a good swan. Hatched without help, preened regularly, chased the occasional passerby for sport. And now he is reduced to searching for one particular head in the crowd, standing above the others, strong and dark and handsome. And when he spots Sauron, he is relieved — as are his bowels.

It is a pleasant, mild day by Umbar standards. He is minding his own business, inspecting the market stalls, when he freezes and leaps backwards. 

The projectile misses his head narrowly, but swan-muck splatters his embroidered shoes and the hem of his robe. 

He looks up, irritated.  “You? YOU survived the First Age? Oh, marvelous. Eru does have a sense of humor.” 

image

“I’ll take this opportunity to make a wish in kind: make whoever sent you and wished this humiliation upon us utterly irresistible to raccoons. If you please.” 

“I dare you to make a wish on my swan.”

doegred:

meme: Shot or dare; dare my muse to do something and they either have to do it or take a shot.
for @masteroftheseas

The Noldo looked long and hard on the Maia before rising one eyebrow and nodding, a thin, cold, smile on his face.
“Fine, I shall.”
For a few seconds he remained in silence before kneeling before the animal… creature. 
“Magic swan, I wish you would relieve yourself on..” For a second he seemed to hesitate. “..Sauron’s head.” 

// It’s hard, knowing you haven’t sold anyone on your OTP yet, but it also fills you with determination ᕦ(ˇò_ó)ᕤ

“Look, if you tell me a character is a smith, I’m going to draw them looking like a human minibus with diamond-hard tree-trunk arms” and WHAM-BAM I can’t help but imagine Fëanor, Curvo and Tyelpë comparing biceps

A surprise contestant appears, winning the contest and the judges’ hearts:

image

Headcanon: burials.

doegred:

This is a headcanon that shamelessly builds on canon and is, thus, not entirely justified by it. 

The Fëanorian Noldor, after the Dagor nuin Giliath, developed the custom of burning their dead and scattering the ashes in clearings located either between the mountains or in the hills. Naturally those clearings assumed thus a great significance for the local exiles and so, as a way to signal such a place to each other, the Noldor started planting three cypresses huddled together in their center. 
This went on for the whole of the first Age and some surviving “loyalist” kept the tradition well into the third, before passing or sailing.

In Fëanor’s case there never was a grave because the wind swept everything away, and it almost became part of his mythos: for his followers somehow believed that he could not have a final resting place as long as there was a fight to fight. Still some of his sons do have a “grave”, albeit a secret ones. After Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir died their bodies were burnt and their surviving brothers scattered their ashes in a clearing deep inside the Blue mountains, near mount Reirir. The same happened for the bodies of Amrod and Amras, they were recovered, burnt and their ashes laid to rest in the same place. 
The ones who know about this spot are few and become fewer and fewer as time passes, still the remaining “loyalists” that still search for Maglor have traveled to the spot several times, since it survived the ages and the flooding of Beleriand, and always found the trees in its center somehow “cared for”. 
So much that there is the legend that as long as the trees are alive so will be Maglor. 

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