#aredhel
Aredhel the White – in a modern version of the Silmarillion… during the Event of the Century in Valinor… Finwë’s centennial gala is an extremely anticipated recurring event… after all, everyone knows that Finwë and his family will be amongst the most well dressed that night, and everybody across Valinor can’t wait to see what dazzling looks they deliver!
kinda want to do all finweans in their “gala attire” now haha
My gift to @isilloth for the @officialtolkiensecretsanta, who requested a fic about Aredhel and/or Caranthir/Haleth. Well you get Aredhel, and a side of Caranthir/Haleth, in a Modern AU.
Summary : If she can get her life together, and if her family doesn’t have anything to say Aredhel might just survive this Christmas. And then become the person she always wanted to be. Who knows?
Hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays!
Seeking Light
(reference from Pexels)
a gleam of white in the dim land.
Following the success of Fëanorian Week and Gondolin Week with so many support and love from you guys, and for tons of messages we ( @windrelyn ) have received since yesterday asking if we are going to celebrate Nolofinwëan Week, we decided that…YES! We’re in!
Nolofinwëan Week 2019 will happen from August 4th to August 10th, 2019* for full seven days! Details for each day is as follow.
Day 1 – August 4th: Fingolfin & Anairë
Day 2 – August 5th: Fingon
Day 3 – August 6th: Turgon & Elenwë
Day 4 – August 7th: Aredhel
Day 5 – August 8th: Argon
Day 6 – August 9th: Idril
Day 7 – August 10th: Maeglin
*We choose this particular period because it includes number “456”, which was the year our High King Fingolfin challenged the Dark Lord Morgoth.
ANY forms of fan works: edits, fanfics, meta, fan art, video, etc. is accepted and appreciated.
To participate, please add #nolofinweanweek to your posts.
As always, our box is open for any questions and suggestions!
(act i.)
act ii.
They ventured out, in that first month, only a few hundred yards onto the Ice. People were going to die – Findekáno knew it, Nolofinwë knew it, the host now dug in on the shores of Araman knew it very well. But no one has died yet, and in a way it paralyzed them, waiting for it. They inched along the sheer ice faces and rolled logs across to test where it can bear the weight and were painstakingly, excruciatingly, careful.
Climbing the ice was not in fact particularly difficult – not as difficult as Findekáno had imagined it, certainly. They had broken down the wagons into thick ice picks. You lit a fire at the bottom of a cliff and left the ice picks in it, to absorb the heat, so later they would slide like butter into their positions on the cliff. You stood there and held them, heat eating its way through your mittens and hand, and waited for the ice to freeze again around your new addition. And then you climbed down, grabbed another, climbed up, did it again. They were testing the best pick shapes and the best distances; the cliffs on the lip of Araman were studded with climbing holds, and with climbers.
“At this rate -” Findekáno said to his father -
“It would take us ten Years,” his father said grimly. “We won’t proceed at this rate, we learn more every day.”