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An unexpected guest - A Middle-Earth StoryAn unexpected guest
The Lost Princess - Chapter 7 (ThranduilxReader) Chapter 7
Awakening of Hope(The fathers of Men meet Finrod Felagund)
Orc and SpringStupid flowers, stupid smells
For Love And HonourFor Love and Honour
Imagination UnrivaledImagination Unrivaled
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Mature contentMore Interrogation (Thranduil x Reader, NSFW) Alpanu 4 0
An unexpected guest - A Middle-Earth Story
An unexpected guest
First Hall of Moria, T.A.2994
Nithi, son of Nár, Gatekeeper of the East-gate, looked up at the great brass horns, shining high above him in the light of the high eastern windows. The horns had only been installed last week, replacing the old horns, which had long been lost. Nithi loved the sigh of them above all. Most of his brethren had a deep love for gold, silver, gems, or even the refound mithril. But Nithi loved above else brass. And of all he had ever wrought of it, or ever had seen wrought by others, he loved the new Horns of the Great Gates of Khazad-dûm best. Although… maybe that had also something to do with the fact that they aided him in his job. There were visitors coming to Moria. Their messenger to King Dáin Ironfoot had returned.
As the large gates slowly opened, the messenger was greeted by the sight of a full Dwarvish welcome, worthy of a messenger between Dáin II, King of Durin's Folk
The Lost Princess - Chapter 7 (ThranduilxReader)
I will never recall the first week of this travel again, ever! You swore to yourself. Calling it a disaster would be simply insufficient. First of all, your non-existing skills with riding turned out to be a bigger problem than what Legolas and Tauriel had thought it to be. Your first almost-a-fall occurred a mere one hundred feet away from the gates of the underground palace. After the first day on the horse, you slumped onto the grass happily, not able to feel the lower part of your body anymore. Yet, before you had the chance to relax a bit, the horse raised its tail and, well… relieved itself right next to your head. The company was laughing for several hours and they gave you a nickname too, calling you ’Lucky pile’. The next day, you were too tired to stay awake and fell asleep, leaning comfortably on a certain prince. Needless to say, you almost fell
He ran, pell-mell through the alleys of New Orleans, the cold autumn rain pelting his flesh wickedly as his thoughts blurred into a single cry of despair. His chest felt heavy, despite the lack of a heartbeat, his lungs aching as he fought to breathe. The very air seemed putrid, as if all the decay of the world had arisen before him. The dark of the night held no comfort for him, nor did the sound of his cries soothe his forlorn state, as he sprinted faster than the human eye could gauge.
He had lost control. After nearly two full years of sustaining himself on mediocre sustenance, he had snapped. His resolve had been waning since the moment he'd first chosen abstinence, but somehow he had thought he could manage. . . Somehow he'd thought he'd be stronger than the blood lust. . . But he had failed. And instead of feeding on a lowlife criminal or the scum of the earth, he had hurt a child. An in
Prisoners of The Void(Chapter One): An Old Enemy
Melkor gasped as his captors shoved him forward into the Void. He felt their hands leave his back as he tumbled into space, just barely managing to unfurl his dark wings and catch himself before he fell into the abyss below. He whipped around, the clinking chains restricting his movement and slowing him down. In the moment before the doors were closed he saw the faces of the other Valar. Namo was watching him coldly, no trace of sympathy in his eyes, while his sister Nienna stood beside him, tears running down her beautiful caramel skin. Varda was looking at Manwe with sympathy in her silver eyes, seeming worried about something. Manwe raised his head, and his sky blue eyes met Melkor’s deep red-brown ones for a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity.
Then the doors closed, and, with an ominous clank, were locked forever.
At that moment a terrible, soul wrenching pain washed over him. He gasped and doubled over, feeling as though his spirit was being ripped in two. He sh
Prisoners of the Void(Tolkien Fanfic)-Prologue
The Timeless Void
The Void was hard to describe. It was nothing like Middle Earth, or Valinor, or any of the extant realms. It was…...well, a void. There were no sm
Awakening of Hope
(The fathers of Men meet Finrod Felagund)
The night swooped down on dark wings of cold dread
with nightmares circling the flames - the faint light
can't chase away the memories and fright
that lurk in mind and in lands that we fled.
Towards the sunset our journey led,
but within us we still carried the night
and to the past we don't turn our sight,
but don't dare to hope for future ahead.
Suddenly nightmare turned to pleasant dream
of distant land with shores from pure white sand
as waves of song carry us like clear stream
and strings of harp are touched by gentle hand.
And when dawn blushes with the first sunbeam
with hope in heart facing the west we stand.
Orc and Spring
Stupid flowers, stupid smells
„Go hunt Hobbits!” Sauron yells
What am I, a stupid bee?
I’ve got pollen allergy!
For Love And Honour
For Love and Honour
A dark day of battle and death,
a warrior lone, and an enemy black,
facing each other with weapons of war,
knowing that neither of them would turn back.
A shield raised up on high to shine,
a tearstained face, hidden under a mask;
blackened the foe's heart in hatred and pride,
lifting a weapon of grim evil task.
Where is the fear, Eowyn, Eowyn?
Where is the fear, maid of Rohan?
Buried down deep, 'neath the pain and the grief,
buried beneath love and duty.
A laugh dark and fell amid screams,
a challenger fair, desperation did feel;
ghastly the voice of a foe beyond fear,
hissing his answer, did not make her reel:
"Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"
A sword lifting up in response,
the beating of wings of a creature now nigh;
hideous hide flying next to her face,
reply made she ringing, clear to the sky:
"But no living man am I! You look upon a woman..."
A silence of doubt in reply,
the screaming of beast bearing down on her then;
deadly the stroke cleavin
~A tribute to the Master Storyteller~
~Tribute to J.R.R. Tolkien~
A mind of genius true, perhaps,
did course within a life so full,
and with a humble start so small,
a tale did grow and ever pulled
the heartstrings of so many folk
who read it once, and then again
as understanding made its way
into the souls of many, then
another tale, and longer, wound
its way into the mind and heart
of that dear dreamer, bolder still,
and so again such lore did start
to weave its birthing pangs along
the path where patience worked with will
to find and make the image grow,
and formed the shapes much larger still
and then became the magic words,
the pictures of a fertile mind
in constant searching out the ways
for which it should then leap and find
AA 2016: Utulie'n aure
A cold breeze cuts across frozen hills.
Cloaked beneath the trees,
Armed with metal teeth
His army waits,
Seething with silent fury.
Hundreds of thousands
Elves and Men
Long suffered, plagued by fear,
Of the Dark Power of the World.
But no longer.
They are arrayed
In splendid mail and sharpened swords,
Hidden in leaves,
Second force, his cousins’ might
That would catch Morgoth’s army
Between hammer and anvil
Between metal and flame
Leaving nought but death.
The day has come.
Black clouds billow across the plains
As though creatures of nightmares
Prepare for a feast.
Roars and shrieks
That chill the blood
Issue forth from those
Three ominous peaks,
Where Russandol once spent despairing days,
Filled with minutes that lasted
Longer than millennia.
And now from those dungeons
Of unimaginable horror
Morgoth prepares for war.
And the Elves answer
With clear ringing trumpets
Like the rising of the moon.