surreal Ainur
Tulkas/Manwe/Varda
life is short, though I keep this from my children
This poem.
Huevember by Maike Plenzke
Sometimes, holy light is that of a single, functioning bulb in a light fixture.
Sometimes, a prayer is just the tune you hum that reminds you of someone.
Sometimes, deliverance is in the person who you wait so desperately for, and you know they’re coming soon.
Nephilimkin aesthetic request!
This was surprisingly hard for me to get right. I tried for a balance of holy and human, but I hope you like!
Dame Griffin by Fadly Romdhani
Today in Middle-Earth: Gandalf and Pippin, riding on Shadowfax to Minas Tirith, see the war-beacons of Gondor lighting. (March 8th, 3019 T.A.).
‘What is that?’ cried Pippin suddenly, clutching at Gandalf’s cloak. ‘Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another!‘
For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. ‘On, Shadowfax! We must hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid. War is kindled.’
