Ah, the gentle art of Fëanorian diplomacy.
Tolkien: any way you slice it.

markedasinfernal:

"Of old there was Sauron the Maia, whom the Sindar in Beleriand named Gorthaur. In the beginning of Arda Melkor seduced him to his allegiance…”

So this has been one of my most popular requests ever, both on Tumblr (most recently from the lovely aulendil-mairon and drunkprancinpony) and from AO3 comments. And finally I’ve buckled. So without further ado, and in my long-neglected style of Mairon’s sort-of narrative from This Game We Play, I present the fateful meetings of everyone’s favourite dark lords. Enjoy :3 

                                                     -xxx-

For years unnumbered he had been content in Aulë’s host. He had been happy, even. Adept he was, and masterful, and the others looked to him for advice in the arts of metallurgy and jewel cutting. Freely he poured forth his knowledge, of his skill he was not jealous, yet as the time flowed by on that sacred isle he found himself stifled.

Projects in which he once took pleasure no longer delighted him; even the most technical or subtle outlets for his skills became monotonous. Ideas then he had of his own, new things to make or to shape, but when he discussed them with his friends or his patron he was met with shocked gazes and disparaging looks. Lightly he had shrugged, he had waved away their dissent with a smile and continued with his commissioned works, but ever their disapprovals niggled at him.

Why were his ideas so wrong? Why was such innovation forbidden to him?

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xredriverx:

You know when Silmarillion people meet up, shenanigans will ensue!
These are some of the best combinations that came up during some of our Cards Against Arda games!
Thank kanafinwhy, markedasinfernal, f-ennekins and hereff for the hilarity! XD

I claim full responsibility for the battlefield amputations / sad hand jobs combo and I refuse to feel bad about it. As reads the Cards Against Arda motto (that we made up): “Master of Inappropriateness, by inappropriateness mastered.”

"Of old there was Sauron the Maia, whom the Sindar in Beleriand named Gorthaur. In the beginning of Arda Melkor seduced him to his allegiance…”

So this has been one of my most popular requests ever, both on Tumblr (most recently from the lovely aulendil-mairon and drunkprancinpony) and from AO3 comments. And finally I’ve buckled. So without further ado, and in my long-neglected style of Mairon’s sort-of narrative from This Game We Play, I present the fateful meetings of everyone’s favourite dark lords. Enjoy :3 

                                                     -xxx-

For years unnumbered he had been content in Aulë’s host. He had been happy, even. Adept he was, and masterful, and the others looked to him for advice in the arts of metallurgy and jewel cutting. Freely he poured forth his knowledge, of his skill he was not jealous, yet as the time flowed by on that sacred isle he found himself stifled.

Projects in which he once took pleasure no longer delighted him; even the most technical or subtle outlets for his skills became monotonous. Ideas then he had of his own, new things to make or to shape, but when he discussed them with his friends or his patron he was met with shocked gazes and disparaging looks. Lightly he had shrugged, he had waved away their dissent with a smile and continued with his commissioned works, but ever their disapprovals niggled at him.

Why were his ideas so wrong? Why was such innovation forbidden to him?

Read More

markedasinfernal:

So Maglor must have a pretty impressive set of lungs, right? I mean, ‘his voice carried over land and sea’ - we’re talking some serious lung capacity here. 
Imagine teenage Maglor tearing through instrument after instrument, searching for something truly exciting, something truly powerful. Harp? Mastered that in a week. Drums? A bit boring really, all you do is whack them with a stick. Flutes? Interesting, but limiting in their impact, too fiddly, too fine for adolescent tastes. Then imagine the smile that crossed his face when some poor, well-intentioned fool hands him a vuvuzela and says ‘try this!’ 
Weeks pass, the neighbours move house, Maedhros threatens to strangle him with his own bootlaces but lo, the fun and games draw to a swift and decisive end when Fëanor arrives home brandishing a royal decree. He waves it triumphantly at Maglor, declaring: ‘Son, you have been officially labeled a disturber of the peace!’ and promptly sets his vuvuzela on fire. 


Pierre Julien, Gladiateur mourant (detail)

Pierre Julien, Gladiateur mourant (detail)

if you don’t terrify people a little bit then what’s the point.

kanafinwhy:

kanafinwhy:

I was in a somewhat bad mood so I abused some beautiful art made some Maglor reaction pictures for use by all should the circumstance arise (✿◡‿◡)

(Art credit, and all my apologies, to Ted Nasmith.)

Bringing back as promised.

italian-luxury:

Galleria Grande | Italy | Source
The Palace of Venaria is located near Turin, Piedmont. The palace was the royal hunting lodge of the Savoy family. This beautiful corridor is the Galleria Grande and according to Wikipedia “erroneously” called Diana’s Gallery.

italian-luxury:

Galleria Grande | Italy | Source

The Palace of Venaria is located near Turin, Piedmont. The palace was the royal hunting lodge of the Savoy family. This beautiful corridor is the Galleria Grande and according to Wikipedia “erroneously” called Diana’s Gallery.

melkorwashere replied to your post

your voice is very pretty uwu

EEEEEEK. THANK YOU. uWu

Fëanorian!Cows Weekly: The Newest Craze West of the Sea!

Proudly do we announce the first edition of this humble publication of Fëanorian!Cows Weekly, your terrible first-rate source for all things happening in the bovine world, and of course, the volatile gossip of Tirion’s politics and power-players! 

In this inaugural issue the stage shall be set; the primary players shall be revealed. Special thanks go out to feanore and kanafinwhy for their semi-explicit sponsorship of such a work, and so without further ado: Valinor, this is your ruling house! 

image

The proud Fëanáro, heir to the throne of Tirion and head of his household, stands guard against marauders who might challenge his throne, or steal from him his Silmarils.

image

Maitimo, often considered great beauty amongst the high families of Tirion, sets out to prove that beauty is sometimes on the inside too. 

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