Month: April 2017

mansnooziesmoosmutzel:

Mablung

also known as Mablung of the Heavy Hand

Mablung was a captain and marchwarden to King Elu Thingol of Doriath. Together with Beleg Cúthalion he was one of the great
captains of the Sindar and were often seen together when outside
Doriath. Contrary to Beleg, who was on duty in the marches of
Doriath, Mablung seems to have been in a position of command in
Menegroth (’The Thousand Caves’) and present at important events.

Mablung survived the disaster of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the fifth
battle of the First Age and returned to Doriath to become entangled
in the fates of the children of Hurin. The captain’s failure in
vigilence permitted Nienor to encounter the Dragon Glaurung alone and
to become ensorcelled by the Worm.

Mablung was the last person to whom Melian spoke before departing
Middle-Earth. She warned him about Thingol’s Silmaril and to send word
to Beren and Lúthien. Soon after Mablung was killed before the doors
of the treasury during the Sack of Menegroth by the Dwarves of
Nogrod.

(http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mablung 
http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Mablung)

Source: mansnooziesmoosmutzel

did you get my leter also how’s Sauron’s handwriting

( ;A; I HAVE NOT! OH FRIEND, I WORRY VERY MUCH that perhaps it is lost in the impenetrable swamp of US customs…  )

I’d say his penmanship looks something like this:

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Apparently he likes those looooooong serifs, and puts curlicues on the end of each letter like a fifth-grade girl. Aww! 

(Ring script aside, I imagine his handwriting is fairly plain and exquisitely legible)

atariince:

lordoftheringslove:

paramaline:

but Tolkien draws such cute dragons, omg

like look at Smaug, look at his ears, DON’T YOU JUST WANT TO SCRATCH BEHIND HIS EARS AND TELL HIM HE’S A GOOD BOY

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and look at this guy, I guess he’s supposed to be ferocious but it looks more like “whoa man chill out, I’m just saying that those shoes with that helmet was maybe not the greatest fashion decision, just a little friendly advice, no need to get defensive.”

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THIS LITTLE BB ALL CURLED UP AND TAKIN’ A NAP

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I want this one to live in my pocket and be my sassy talking dragon sidekick

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SO SMILEY!! “gonna go terrorize some helpless villagers aw yiss”

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but my favorite is this little doodle here

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just look at him

LOOK AT HOW HAPPY HE IS

Tolkien’s dragons are fascinating (and very cute indeed) although not so surprising considering his knowledge in European Middle-Age. Before the discovery by European people of Chinese dragons through the imports of goods from China, dragons in Anglo-Saxon bestiaries (inspired by Germanic traditions) were more like huge worms, with or without wings, and their most dangerous features were their velocity and rapidity rather than fire, and their tail was usually more dangerous than their teeth.

That’s the kind of dragons we have in Beowulf or in the Nibelungen for instance, or in representations of Saint Margaret (The dragons with Margaret sometimes look rather ridiculous and I love them)(There is a nice collection here). (I mean, look at this ferocious beast:)

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Book of Hours, St. Margaret, Walters Manuscript W.168, fol. 222r by Walters Art Museum Illuminated Manuscripts – 15th century (x)

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Dunois Book of Hours, France (Paris), 15th century, Yates Thompson MS 3, f. 282v (x)

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Cambray Book of hours of Cambray 15th century (X)

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Queen Mary Psalter, Royal MS 2 B VII, f. 256r – 14th century

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British Library, Harley MS 3244, Folio 59r –

13th century (x)

So yes, Tolkien’s tiny dragons are not only lovely, but also quite relevant of his primary sources of inspiration, which makes them even more interesting 😀

The wolf girl

admirable-mairon:

[A couple of weeks ago I discovered this GORGEOUS swedish song called ‘Vargaflicka’, meaning ‘Wolf girl’, and I immideately sent it to @first-son-of-finwe , however I didn’t have the time to translate the whole thing to english……
UNTIL NOW!!! So here it is!!! Bear with me- it’s a masterpiece when it comes to the swedish lyrics but it’s damn near impossible to translate xD] 

 A young girl met a wolf in the forest

And the wolf he said ‘I want you to be mine’

 But the girl declined and hesitated, but gathered up the courage to say:
“If I come with you, you will always have to be faithful to me and only me, and never long for another!.

 And the wolf he smiled and took her hand and vowed his lupine love was true.

 A warm hand against the ice cold love

I will make you mine

 Feel your heart sting, o wolf girl

I wonder what that lass has on her mind
  
 A warm hand against the ice cold love

The girl took it into her palm

 Hear the wolves cry in the cold of ice and winter

I will make you mine

 The wolf took his lass upon his back

And the trees flashed them by

 When the wolf he ran and his jaws he snapped
Through the dark deep woods in his eternal lupine fury

Over moss and over hills they traveled like a chilly wind

And in loving affection the lass tugged upon his fur and sweetly kissed her wolf’s muzzle.

To his den they arrived in the blink of an eye

And the lass she played and the wolf he caressed as gently as his teeth and claws allowed

And under the golden fullmoon they danced together

The lass’ hand set the wolf aflame and their lupine hearts became one as they burned

A warm hand against the ice cold love
I will make you mine

Feel your heart sting, o wolf girl
I wonder what that lass has on her mind
 
A warm hand against the ice cold love
The girl took it into her palm

Hear the wolves cry in the cold of ice and winter
I will make you mine 

When spring came to their forest, together they went out to hunt

Summer was coming and still he stayed by her and stayed true to his word.

But the girl felt that their time was up

Her heart was no longer aflame.
 So when dawn came, the girl she ran
In search of a new man 

 Alas the news reached the wolf, and crying he fled from his lair

Over the mountains and through bone and heart, the men could hear his broken cries

The lass told her new husband to ride away as fast as the horse could carry him

But despite the speed of his steed

He ended up in the wolf’s belly

A warm hand against the ice cold love
I will make you mine

Feel your heart sting, o wolf girl
I wonder what that lass has on her mind
 
A warm hand against the ice cold love
The girl took it into her palm

Hear the wolves cry in the cold of ice and winter
I will make you mine 

 Alas the girl knew that all wolves fear fire

So she set the whole village aflame

 She cleansed her village with flames, and the men they fled as the fire reached higher and higher into the sky

But see, the wolf he never fled

Together they burned to ashes

 In eachother’s arms in a burning warmth, the wolf and his girl got their last adventure

In the flames of the red fire, once again the two lovers burned

Kissed by flickering flames before everything grew silent once again

But the silence in itself became witness to their true lupine love

Together they met their deaths

Together their flames flickered out

In the agony of heat and the flicker of the flames

The two were reunited once again 

A warm hand against the ice cold love 

I will make you mine

Feel your heart sting, o wolf girl
I wonder what that lass has on her mind
 
A warm hand against the ice cold love
The girl took it into her palm

Hear the wolves cry in the cold of ice and winter
I will make you mine

misbehavingmaiar:

misbehavingmaiar:

Räven —Hedningarna

Röda läppar döljer dina tänder 
och din tunga är så sträv 
Eld och rimfrost är i dina ögon 
är du kvinna eller räv? 
Jagar slugt och vilt i natten 
Långa ärmar döljer dina klor 
Leker lystet med ditt byte 
munnen din är röd av blod 

(Kertosäe) chorus:
Nouse kirki kiimalle
perähyöry höngylle
Nouse ilman nojumata
kihko ilman kirromata 

Vild och farligt vacker är du 
Kjolen döljer knappt din svans 
Lockar längre ut i mossen 
med din galna rovdjursdans 
Just när dina kläder fallit 
och din nakna kropp jag sett 
skrattar du och öppnar käften 
ger mig djupa kärleksbett
__

Red lips hide your teeth
and your tongue is so coarse
Fire and frost are in your eyes
are you a woman or a fox?
Wild and sly you hunt in time of darkness 
long sleeves hide your claws 
with your prey you play 
your mouth is red with blood
You are wild and frighteningly beautiful
skirt barely hides your tail 
Luring deeper into the woodlands 
with your mad wild animal’s dance 
Just when your clothes fall
and I see your naked frame 
you laugh and open your jaws
and give me deep bites of love

(Chorus)
Rise now lust and rave desire 
rush on upwards, sap in birchstem 
Rise without a word of witch craft 
rush without a rune of making! 

Source: misbehavingmaiar

NAME OF YOUR MUSE:  Sauron / Thû – He left the name ‘Mairon’ behind when he took up service to Melkor, and finds it patronizing when people use this name for him (unless it is Aulë, but he hasn’t spoken to his father in eons). 

ONE PICTURE YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR MUSE: ……I have… a lot >\> 

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TWO HEADCANONS YOU HAVE FOR YOUR MUSE YOU NEVER TOLD ANYONE:

1) I haven’t told this to anyone because I only just thought of it! >w>
 When Melkor was first coming around to “encourage” Mairon’s free thinking, he suggested the maia should try making something of his own, rather than something Aulë told him to make. His first attempts were small crystal formations, then simple geometric shapes out of metal, then pieces of jewelry, then rudimentary machines and clockwork. Finally he made something almost entirely new, rearranging known substances to create a unique gemstone. He was going to give it to Melkor as a gift, but their forbidden meeting was interrupted by Aulë. Mairon, like a teenager caught with a naughty magazine and his trousers down, panicked, and flung all his creations into a furnace and threw the gemstone into the waste-gutter of magma that flowed out of the Great Forge (to Melkor’s dismay). Aulë is not mad, he is disappointed; Mairon is grounded, Melkor firmly shown the door, and the gemstone is lost to Arda’s geology until waaaaay later, during the Third Age, where it is discovered by Thrór.  

2) At the top of Barad-Dur, both in its original and reconstructed state, is an astronomical observatory. “The Great Eye” of Sauron is two things; it is the feeling of his intense, psychic concentration upon the lands of Mordor, and also the glinting light from the lens of a huge telescope, sometimes visible through the clouds of volcanic ash.
When his shade is not busy micro-managing the troops, searching for the One Ring, and haunting the palantir, Sauron is charting stars; specifically, one red star that is only visible when the light of the star of Eärendil is on the far horizon. From long observation and tracking, he has determined that there are actually two sets of stars; one set that represents physical suns and planets that appeared after the world was globed, and those of Varda’s heaven as it was in the beginning. These two spheres have a complex, subtle interaction that represents the alignment of the old Arda and the new. With long planning and careful preparation, he thinks it is possible to find the Door of Night, marked by this dim red star, and reach it during the correct intersection of celestial planes. 

THREE THINGS YOUR MUSE LIKES DOING IN THEIR FREE TIME: 

  • Making kinetic sculptures, musical instruments, and automata. 
  • Organizing his work spaces, inventory, treasury, armory, and anything that isn’t tied down. (This might be more of a compulsion than a hobby, but it relaxes him.) 
  • Singing; songs of his own or songs he learns from around the world, and forge songs that he learned from Aulë that help him with his craft. 
  • Sparring with other Umaiar, or practicing feats of balance and precision.
  • Human/Eruhini things! Eating, sleeping, bathing, making love– all those earthly pleasures Ainur are supposed to eschew for healthy, ethereal living. 

SEVEN PEOPLE THAT YOUR MUSE LIKES/LOVES: (I’m going to keep this to Wesley!Verse Canon for simplicity’s sake– there are many more he likes in RP)

  • Melkor, the master he chose to serve, who liberated him from believing himself only a tool with a set purpose, who he will love as long as he is capable of loving. 
  • Aulë, the master who he was born to, who he considers his father and teacher. He cannot help but love Aulë, even if they are estranged forever and their bond severed. 
  • Draugluin– old grey grandfather of werewolves, he taught Thû many things, not the least of which were filthy wolf-jokes, and was a valued friend.
  • Gothmog, Thuringwethil, Langon, etc. Generally speaking, he gets along well with his co-workers and enjoys their company. (Telvido and Glaurung may be exceptions…)
  • Maeglin– in my own verse, Maeglin is rescued from his fall and taken back to Angband to continue his apprenticeship under Sauron and become a captain of Angband. He and Sauron bonded over designing blueprints for draconic siege machines, and Sauron likes having him as an assistant in the forge. 
  • Salgant– in this same verse, Salgant is spared from imprisonment at Maeglin’s behest, working first in Sauron’s forge and later as a caretaker of hatchlings and wargpups. He has endeared himself by being a surprisingly hard worker, a good influence on moody apprentices, and because zaftig elves give Sauron the vapors. 
  • Celebrimbor. It’s complicated. 

TWO THINGS YOUR MUSE REGRETS: Being unable to come to Melkor’s aid when the Valar imprisoned him is Sauron’s most profound regret; his second is losing Celebrimbor’s trust (that is what he tells himself; it’s easier than admitting he let his need for vengeance overpower him and destroy what had become a genuine relationship).   

A PHOBIA YOUR MUSE HAS: Helplessness, and great, towering waves of water.


tagged by @beruthielthequeen 
tagging:  @elf-and-iron @salmaganto @lindethiel @putrid-tongue @forgemaiar

misbehavingmaiar:

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2Jsr49142k)

Äijö — Värttinä

Village dotard, old idiot
Village dotard, weak in the head
Village dotard, crooked imp
Village dotard, bowlegged
Village dotard, up on the cold hill
Village dotard, a viper on his lap.

Croaks and ambles lonely in the night.
Croaks and ambles with an ember in his hands.
Scorches on his palms, his feet on fire,
All lonely in the night, a tired old devil.

On the cold hill the adders slide around each other,
One high, two low.
The old man’s palm the curving viper bit,
A stinging wound, a load of vile venom. 

Old man, alone in the night turns back,
In the stairwell, sits waiting for the viper
Wants to put its wily head on the block,
To axe its slithery neck. 

“Snake slither-stealthy, enemy eyeslanted, groundprowler heatherhue, earth your evil incubator; thou knowst evil incubation, earth’s stealthy sireling, from earth sired other serpents, snakes of sibilant shades; Know not thy hue however your hue may be, be thee one hue, dark hue, grey hue, be thee brass or bronze hue— Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt. Take the ailment away, your hurt to your horrid home; bring the pain to a battlefield, unleash your evil on the enemy. Better the bite banishes the bad, purify the potent poison, away I say— thou vilest viper, never nose round these acres!
 Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt!”

Old man heals the devil’s bite
Pours out liquor, washes it with spirits,
Pours tar and heats a smokey sauna,
Conjures smoky charms, sings spells in his hut. 

In the village they all wonder;
Wonder about the old man’s twisting, stumbling,
About the nightly croaking from a hunchbacked devil,
About an old man’s struggles, cast the rudest rumors:

“Village dotard, old idiot”

“Village dotard, bowlegged”

Old man, old dotard, weary,
Stronger men could take far less. 

–Note: Lyrics dubiously patched together from at least four sources, very probably inaccurate, but hopefully evocative! Spellsong lyrics translated here. Further translations here. 

beruthielthequeen:

NAME OF YOUR MUSE: Berúthiel; nickname Berú (birth name Tamar Margoliantë)
ONE PICTURE YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR MUSE: i have multiple FCs and she has no set canon appearance or actress soooooo imma just go with THIS lovely piece of art my friend did recently! clickies!

TWO HEADCANONS YOU HAVE FOR YOUR MUSE YOU NEVER TOLD ANYONE:

  • She’ll tell anyone who asks that the reason she sought out immortality was the same reason Ar-Pharazon and the King’s Men of Numenor claimed they wished to seek it – anger at the Valar for denying them all the gifts given to the elves. And maybe that anger was actually genuine, after what she was taught and experienced. But in reality, her reasons were the same as Ar-Pharazon’s likely actually were – fear. Fear of dying, fear of what comes next, fear of the unknown. At times, that fear was the only thing which kept her alive at times when despair might otherwise have swamped her under.
  • She actually did hate the cats at first. She’d always preferred birds, specifically but not limited to desert crows. The cats, who were strays all from one litter, bothered her, they were strange, stand-offish creatures; and yet they were drawn to her, apparently, and wouldn’t leave her alone. It was a rare day in the garden, after a point, where there wasn’t at least one cat within her line of vision, even if they never quite got close enough to be petted. Eventually, desperately lonely as she was, Berúthiel accepted the companionship the cats offered and the rest, as we say, is history.

THREE THINGS YOUR MUSE LIKES DOING IN THEIR FREE TIME:

  • Poking around in booksellers’ wares. She has quite a collection of rare old codices and scrolls and even tablets from the days before paper-making; and she’s taught herself the tongues that the oldest were written in so she could translate them all. Related to this: making those translations.
  • Gardening, mostly of great thorny hedges of roses; and of herbs. She tries to cultivate species from her homeland, but lacking a hot house, most of them won’t grow well. The few that do are her pride and joy.  It’s a properly witchy pastime. 
  • Writing poetry, mostly in her birth-tongue but occasionally in others, as the mood takes her. Few people have ever read any of it.

SEVEN PEOPLE THAT YOUR MUSE LIKES/LOVES:

  • ??
  • ???
  • ????
  • ?????
  • This is completely verse dependent… like in canon there’s not even one name, ha

TWO THINGS YOUR MUSE REGRETS:

  • Sometimes she regrets having made herself so impossible for the people of Gondor to love. It would have been better for her father’s political aims if she’d made even a slight attempt to fit in and adopt their ways; and it would have been better for her, in some sense. Maybe she could have had friends, if never a loving husband. (But she also felt, and still feels, that she should not have had to change for anyone to accept her.)
  • Idk man… she isn’t really a ‘regret’ sort of person. Uh. In the modernverse specifically that I share with @curufinwefeanaro she probably regrets having married that asshole…. (not feanor. he’s also an asshole, but she doesn’t regret him at all.)

A PHOBIA YOUR MUSE HAS:

  • The deep ocean. She hates the scent of the sea, and gets seasick, but it’s all translated into a generalized abhorrence of the ocean which approaches a phobia.

Tagged by: @synthmama
Tagging: @curufinwefeanaro @cllgood @ppoolio @wildmoored idk man everyone?

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