‘Avari’ meaning The Refusers.
The Avari were the group of Elves that declined to journey to Aman when summoned by the Valar.
Other Names: The Unwilling, the Moriquendi, Dark Elves,
Elves of Darkness, East-elves, Eastern Elves, Mornedhel (Sindarin
term), Abari (Telerin form of Avari).
GURUTHOS. n. THE SHADOW OF DEATH. DEATH-HORROR; THE FEAR OF DEATH. “there is only one lord of the rings, and he does not share power”
a mix for sauron (gorthaur, annatar, zigûr, tar-mairon, necromancer), the witch of many names. a sorcerer of dreadful power, master of shadows and of phantoms, foul in wisdom, cruel in strength, lord of werewolves whose dominion is torment.
Salgant woke, and again it was some moments before he remembered: the fall, the unexpected glint of hope. That he would take the offer was not in question. If it was a trick or some cruel jest, so be it.
He washed and dressed with the air of a warrior arming himself. His mind shied away at the thought of Saur – Forgemaster Thú – finding him pleasant to look upon, but he must be at his sharpest regardless. Lives would depend on it. He touched the stained emblem on his ruined festival clothing, and then turned the fabric over. The living before the dead, always.
What would he need to prepare? Salgant could keep any figures or agreements in his head without trouble – he was, after all, a trained bard – but memory was easier changed than paper. Salgant searched for it, but that, apparently, was one need that Saur – the lieutenant had not foreseen. Food, also. Though his body had passed through hunger, Salgant knew that starving himself would help no one.
Taking a deep breath, Salgant rang the bellpull. What would answer, he did not know.
After brief scratching and scuffling, a goblin answered. At least, presumably it was a goblin– it wasn’t quite an orc, and definitely not a man. It had round, amber eyes and a flat, furry face, its limbs long and spidery as a langur or gibbon’s. It squinted at Salgant suspiciously under tufted eyebrows, having difficulty meeting the glinting stars in his elven eyes.
“What do you want?” it squeaked, its hand clenching the door handle while the rest of it hunched near the floor. Little fangs flashed as it spoke, “Food? Water? Piss pot?” It hesitated, putting a long finger in its mouth and muttering, “…Do elves piss? Never heard of an elf pissing…”
The Laughter reached out, her hands grasping at empty air. She looked like she wanted to run towards Nemesis but was too afraid to move. “You’re… you’re back, you’re alive. Love, is that really you?”
“If you have half the sense I credit you with, you’ll abandon this project here and now. Blame me, if you like! Tell them I tricked you! I’ll make the pillars into ice that will melt and fracture! Anything would be better than this, even darkness.”
Fëanor, work in progress 2. (Next, colour!)
The grand plan (ha, omg wtf am I doing) is to illustrate a sort of Silmarillion family tree; at least to make all those Fs easier. :3
ALMOST LATE BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAR, (I wanted to draw something happy but with these two its hard sometimes hahaha, I hope its not ooc or anything, maybe they’re drunk?)
AME, I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A GREAT DAY AND I HOPE ALL YOUR DAYS ARE GREAT, LOTS OF KISSES AND HUGS AND A LOT OF LOVE!! happy birthday dear!!
Oh my goodness, this is wonderful! And yes, I think they are drunk and had an unusually pleasant evening and are now quite primed to enjoy themselves. But ahh, Finrod’s expression and the colors and the body language … and your famous Nauglamir!
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 