Colors: The autumnal forest is awash with life. Galadriel feels keenly every note of it, Nenya humming along with every breath. In the ground she plants a tree, a gift from the waves. Green and silver leaves wreath the sapling, but many shift into gold. They are bright the colors, filled with hope.

Relic: There are more relics in Galadriel’s life than she would wish for. In her hands, the phantom of her brother’s blade. In a chest, locked away, a pouch bearing the seal of a dead man she never, in the end, met at all. And somewhere, in a room for two abandoned, a different ring gathers dust.

1.1: "Home" for #TROPrewatch + #TROPreforged One of my favourite scenes of TROP. And it was perfect for the prompt!✨ The conflict in Galadriel is so huge and Valinor feels so imposing (almost terrifying) that even the first time I watched the show (still not very convinced) it gave me the chills👀

OOC: A very Adariel day at the Christmas markets ✨🖤

12. Brotherhood. Survival forged a brotherhood amongst survivors. The elves that live now in Rivendell, the that fled a sinking city, and, though she could never have envisioned it not so long ago, the Uruk who seek peace. Evil does not sleep, it waits. But good sleeps not either, it swells.

Sting: “This will sting.” She cautions, her voice terse though her fingers are gentle as they press along raw edges of skin seeping black. The corner of his mouth curves up at the words, bleakly amused in the way she likes least. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺⁣. But this one, she vows, will heal.

OOC I will respond to all non Halloween posts anon! I was sick this week and fell behind @elrondoflindon.bsky.social @gilgadaddy.bsky.social and anyone else!

The candles are low and their firelight dances in the breeze. Galadriel is, this night, dressed in starlight. Nenya whispers in her ear, and in her fëa the murmur of those who have passed is loud.

Autumn has swirled to life in the forest around her, even the remaining green burnished with a brush of gold. The beauty of it seeps into the very marrow of her bones as she sits beneath the tree. It is good to be finally still again, if only for a breath…

Sting: “This will sting.” She cautions, her voice terse though her fingers are gentle as they press along raw edges of skin seeping black. The corner of his mouth curves up at the words, bleakly amused in the way she likes least. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺⁣. But this one, she vows, will heal.

#Tolkientober Catchup!

Vessel—In her resting state, in visions behind her eyes, she takes his hand in hers, allows a crown of metal so frozen it burns to be set upon her head. She becomes a vessel for power. Great, she becomes, Terrible. The Valar themselves on their knees. She awakens—uncertain if from dream or nightmare

Fall: The crisp air of autumn flushes her cheeks, the trees of the forest brushed with dark gold. In memories that never were, they sit together, fingers entwined, as the leaves fall silent from their branches, float gracefully all around them. Her cheeks are cold, but the hand upon hers is warm.

#Tolkientober Catchup :3

Rings: Nenya is a creation of many makers. Gold of Valinor. Mithril of the Dwarves. Celebrimbor’s craft. The low murmur of Adar. The summer song of Elrond. Her own trills of light. Perhaps, she knows He has fingerprints there as well. The ring whispers of them all in her ear, ever-present.

The whisper of trees…

Arondir and the Commander of the Northern Armies

#Tolkientober Day 19: Transformation Tw// Blood At some point, his blood started to run black 💔🖤 P.S: It had been a while since I wanted to draw this and today's prompt was perfect! I'm glad I managed to finish this one on time ^^ #Adar #Moriondor #Morgoth

#TOLKIENTOBER Day 25: VOLCANO 🌋 Mark of Adar Acrylic on sand paper 🖌️🎨 #Tolkientober2025 #volcano #adar #uruk #theringsofpower

Volcano: True creation requires sacrifice. This is a lesson she has learned. There was sacrifice here—of many kinds. But veins of molten stone pour the heat of a new sun into these lands, the ash a bringer of hearth and home. Sacrifice, yes, but—she has come to understand—creation, too.

#TolkienTuesday #TolkienTrewsday

Ósanwë: The door is shut. She has slammed it, latched the lock, dropped the key into the depths. But, now and again, drifting in the outer corners of her awareness, the light slipping through the cracks distorts, shadow moving on the other side. She reaches out a hand, draws it back. #Tolkientober

Seafarers: The song of the sea whispers in her heart, a never-ending call. They are not seafarers, the elves, but the foam of the tides whispers of home. Once she lived across the ocean. And yet in this land she has been born anew, once, twice, again. The ocean calls, but roots sink into the earth.

Encountered a few messengers of the forest not too long ago.

Crown: Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.

Hope: Adar extends the ring to her on his palm and her fingers close over it, brushing his skin, the dancing light of his fëa, stirred to the surface, but always, she understands now, present, and hers, tested in its own way, and the ring between them, a promise. A lasting peace. A lasting hope.

Armor: Elrond exchanges his robes for armor, and she finds she does not very much like the shift. Not so long ago, she had accused him of playing courtier, of not knowing evil as she has known it. But she does not, in the end, wish for him to. A sword in his hand where a pen should be. #Tolkientober

#Tolkientober Day 4: Armor Sauron in the First Age, when he was Morgoth's lieutenant👁️ PS: I love armours so I think this prompt should appear in every Tolkientober 🦾 #Sauron #Armor

#Tolkientober Day 4: Armor Life, in defiance of death #art

Crown: Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.

Gardens: The scent of flowers floating on the wind awakens memories long-buried by ash, dust, sand—blood. Her hair had caught the golden light of the lanterns as she’d spun and laughed. A garden. A glade. She’d been dancing. And there had been the scent of flowers on the wind. #Tolkientober

#TOLKIENTOBER Day 2: GARDENS💜 Sage flowers Acrylic on sand paper 🖌️🎨 #Tolkientober2025 #Sage #Flowers #Arondir #Belerian 🌸

#TOLKIENTOBER Day 3: CROWN👑 The iron crown Acrylic on sand paper 🖌️🎨 #Tolkientober2025 #crown #sauron #morgoth

#Tolkientober #Tolkientober2025

Creation: The ring on her finger whispers as it slips back into place—a quiet, tinkling murmur, like the hush of a river. Nenya, a creation made to save her kind, perhaps his, all kinds of Middle-earth. Visions of peace dance for the first time in her mind. That too, a creation entirely new.

Details✨

#Tolkientober Day 5: Hope For this prompt I could only think of the most truly hopeful scene in all Tolkien adaptations for me🖤🤍 P.S: Inspired by "The Swan" by Hilma af Klint✨ #Adar #Galadriel

Truly, the most hopeful of moments…

OOC: Chappell said FUCK YOU, SAURON!! In your fake Gucci sweater.

OOC: Whenever I listen to this song, I write this fanfic in my head where Adariel are in their crush phases and suddenly Celeborn comes back. I should just write it 😂 open.spotify.com/track/1mU5Mu...

7. What is a green flag? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one. Only jesting. I suppose I believe a green flag is someone who can challenge me without disrespecting me.

My gown became unfortunately stained with, ehm, stains, but I think it even more beautiful now.