There's a Mirror On the Wall

Today I am again working on one of my larger ongoing projects, and decided that fuck attempting to use colors that are properly heraldic, I would like not to have a migraine because the red is eye searing and the more so when combined with the blue.

On the other hand, now that I've adjusted that, I'm getting through adding visual identifier tags to the awakened elves that I will then use - with arbitrary rules that I have in mind concerning how parts of those tags are inherited - to essentially trace down the maternal and paternal lines. Because I can. And because eventually I'm going to also do individual sets of family trees that trace a specific elf's descendents.

(Let us not actually discuss the non-elven contributions to this mess. Maiar are weird, humans get out of hand fast, and just. I will worry about them after I finish the rest of this. Especially considering one particular avari cannot keep it in his pants. Because I make rude gestures at LaCE. Elves can too have more than one spouse, the Valar just don't like it and have fits about it from time to time.)

Anyway.

My HLH story is in, and now it's waiting until the stories go live, and seeing what everyone wrote and what people think of mine and just. *bounces happily* I'm pleased with what I wrote. And looking forward to seeing what was written for me.

I am still hacking away at bracketed sections of In Familia Imperatoris, and trying to decide if I want to post it all as one story, or post it as a series. (If anyone wants to see this in progress, ping me on discord - morgynleri#9655.) I've got three more bracketed sections before the first major timeskip, of which one may just be deleted because it might actually be to a good place to do a short timeskip. The other two need more work.

(Because why not? We'll see how well I manage to keep track of when it is Sunday to post these.)

From Adopted of the Khîtikweni, a Second Age fic that fits into several of my AUs, featuring Maglor and one of my Avari OCs.

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"Sit back down before you fall down." Culdarusco meets his gaze when he spins toward the fire, and Maglor collapses with less grace than he's had in most of his life back onto the mussed bedroll. "Or fall down, as you will."

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking dinner." She gestures to the low fire, which seems strangely shaped until he realizes there's something heaped in coals in the middle. "You need to eat, and I am hungry."

I will attempt to crosspost on the same day after this.

Saturday, 17 October: Tolkien: General Headcanon

Night, Storm, and Daybreak

If they could speak, the swords would tell a story longer than the living memory of all but elves, a tale of princes and soldiers, of kings and smiths, of shadows and separation and death.

They would sing of battles fought from the icy wastes of Forodwaith to the deep forests of Harad, from the red-stone mountains of the east to lands sunk beneath the bent western seas. Hands of dwarrows and of Men, of eldar and of avari, of those who fought for the honor of their people and their lords and their gods, or fought simply for the cold gleam of silver and gold.

They would whisper of friends who reached across the boundaries of race and culture and belief, who passed them on with the last breath to those who needed them more.

One was given name drinking the black blood of orcs in the lamp-lit halls of Gundabad before the sun was even a thought, defending the life of a beloved friend and king. Another as the sun touched a river of mist and deep forest for the first time, sending enemies reeling and shrieking back into the shadows of the mountains. And the third in a screaming battle beneath roaring skies that could not be won, only survived.

Those who came before forgot the tales, or never heard them, or did not care, and so a history was lost to mortal memory. Names etched in leather are lost to age and rot and death. A line broken in the ending of an age is not reforged in the next, one vanished in the destruction of a city is not taken up from the ruins. Only the runes in the steel still call forth the names of the blades.

Unending Night and Blood Under Storm become Night and Storm, kept together as they had been since their Making, passed from hand to hand through the Ages. Hilts set into the palms of princes once more as an Age begins to crumble under its own weight.

Awaiting Daybreak is lost to a careless evil, and lay hidden for an Age and more where none would dare to seek it. Waiting for a hand it would wish upon its hilt, to stand through the bleakest night until the dawn brought back hope to its bearer.

Perhaps now they might sing and whisper tales once more, into the ears of those who can hear the voice of the steel, and those who have seen death without fear for what it brings.

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Sunday, 18 October: Hobbit: Flame of Durin

Note: This goes with chapter one of Burning Bright, being Gandalf’s POV of the second scene.

Gandalf isn’t certain what to make of the avari who is occupying Thorin’s tent, though he keeps a close eye on Ráva as Bilbo and Thorin make mutual apologies. There are the beginnings of something between the dwarven king and the avari, but what that something is, Gandalf isn’t certain. Not anything that will bring deliberate harm on either - and indeed, might prove useful for Thorin. He had feared for Thorin’s life when he heard he had fallen in the battle, especially after the display of Power he’d wrought, but now, he suspects he worried over much.

He hums quietly, keeping himself as invisible as he can manage while Ráva manages the situation - perhaps unaware of some of his manipulations, but certainly aware of others. Gandalf waits until Bilbo is settled before quietly slipping out of the tent to go find his own place to rest. He won’t be needed to keep Thorin among the living, and there are other matters to consider. Among them how to use the unexpected presence of Ráva and his companions to Gandalf’s advantage. There’s still much to do in order to be certain everything is set as right as it might be here. Or at least on the right path.

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Monday, 19 October: Hobbit: Northern Night

Warnings: Torture, in the form of the continuing effects of a binding tattoo.

( Mind the warnings )

More Obi-Wan on Middle Earth:

He lets out a string of Huttese curses before he runs a hand through his hair, glaring out at the webbing that is prevalent in the forest he's landed in. Out into the wilds of the planet then, though he is reluctant to leave the pod - the further he goes, the harder it will be for anyone to find him. Even if everything is pointing to not being given any real choice.

"That was very rude, whoever you are." He glares at the controls a moment, not even a flicker in the lights giving any indication they've worked before or will do so again. "You can't even be bothered to tell me what you want?"

No response, but he's not particularly surprised, and draws a deep breath, snagging his cloak to settle over his tunics before he opens the hatch again. Nothing has come close to the pod while he's been watching his chance of getting home drained, which is a small mercy.

Reaching out to touch the Force, he winces at the sick feeling it has around him, even though there's strength beneath the taint. Obi-Wan wonders if the spiders are a natural part of the forest, or perhaps a symptom of whatever is poisoning the Force here. He grimaces as the thought of the latter. He doesn't want to think about there possibly being a Dark Jedi of any sort here, or a Sith.

He touches the Force again, letting it guide his footsteps, avoiding touching the webbing as much as possible. The risk of spiders the size of those who made the webs is bad enough without making it blindingly obvious where he is.

Tonight's dinner is fit for a hobbit (or even a company of dwarves, if I made more of it). On the other hand, none of these recipes is meant for one person, so if cooking for yourself, expect leftovers.

All of this is made from scratch, including the stock in the Mushroom-Ginger Soup, so expect to take a couple hours (not counting the stock-prep, which should be started at least two or three hours before the rest of it) to cook it all on a four-burner stove (and microwave, where noted).

Also expect to have to salt it after, because I do not use salt in cooking.

Note: All ginger should be at least as big around as your thumb. Larger is awesome.

Note the second: Some of the bits on where in Middle Earth I'd find the recipes has more to do with my head-canon for a particular AU than actual canon.

Allergy notes: Most of these recipes contain mushrooms. Two of them call for onions and garlic.

( Recipes below )