Hello Sweet Lindir

“The most important truths often are (simple)” - Finrod

Here’s a simple sketch of Finrod Felagund as seen in Rings of Power! He’s the eldest son of Finarfin and brother to Galadriel. Honestly, no one talks about him (or sketches him) enough. Great job to Will Fletcher for portraying him.

one of my favourite lords

One more Journey concept art. It’s a sketch of Penlod’s character, the lord of two Houses of legendary Gondolin. He is both a builder and a linguist. As they speak, if you read you must build a library.

I'm still so mad about the adar death but I gotta say Celebrimbor-after just being shot with a frick ton of arrows-telling Sauron that soon he will "go to the shores of morning, borne hence by a wind that you can never follow", calling Sauron the shadow of Morgoth and telling him that he's just a prisoner to the rings is peak feanorian defiance and just peak in general

aww brimbyyyyy

An Artist's Gaze

A/N: This is my first time writing for Celebrimbor, let me know what you think!

Pairing: Celebrimbor x Reader

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The ringing of hammers and the hum of the forge fill the space around you, a symphony you’ve always found soothing, even exhilarating. But today, there's a heightened anticipation in the air as you catch sight of Celebrimbor across the workshop, quietly absorbed in his work. His concentration is intense, his brow furrowed, his gloved fingers moving with expert precision over a small circlet he’s crafting—a piece fit for a High King.

You’ve only spoken with him a handful of times over the years, as your own work takes you often to other cities, each with its own demands and requests for your intricate armor designs. But today, you've been summoned here by Celebrimbor himself, a request you couldn’t easily dismiss.

When he notices you, a flicker of a smile lights his face, though it’s softened by a slight shyness. “Thank you for coming,” he says, his voice gentle yet purposeful. “I’ve been working on a new set for Gil-galad, but I wanted your opinion on some… details. Especially to match this,” he gestures to the circlet, setting it carefully on the bench between you.

You examine the circlet, noting the fine etching of stars along its band, the delicate but powerful shapes carved with unmistakable expertise. “This is beautiful,” you murmur, meeting his eyes briefly before your attention returns to the piece. “The stars… are they a nod to Gil-galad’s lineage?”

He nods, seeming pleased that you caught the detail. “Yes. I wanted it to reflect his heritage, but I also want the armor to carry the same strength. Subtle, but… unmistakable.” His gaze flickers back to the circlet, and he runs a hand through his hair—a touch of nervousness you wouldn’t expect from one so skilled. “Your work, though… the precision of your designs. It’s unparalleled. I thought you might have ideas on how best to harmonize the pieces.”

You find yourself smiling, a bit surprised by his earnest praise. “Flattery from the master himself? I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink as he laughs quietly, adjusting a tool on the bench to avoid your gaze. “Merely the truth,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I appreciate your humility.”

You lean closer, studying the circlet’s design again, envisioning how it could complement the armor’s larger surface. Your fingers brush his on the table as you reach for a sketch he’s begun, and he goes still, a breath catching, though he doesn’t pull away.

“The armor,” you say softly, “could carry these same stars, but larger, perhaps along the chest and shoulders, so they appear as if they’re guarding him from all sides. A constellation of protection.”

His gaze lifts to yours, admiration shining through his reserve. “You always find a way to bring lightness to strength,” he murmurs, as though the words slipped out unbidden. He holds your gaze a moment too long, his shyness momentarily forgotten, and in that quiet space between you, the warmth of the forge seems almost unnecessary.

The silence stretches, charged, until Celebrimbor seems to realize how intensely he’s been looking at you. His eyes widen slightly, and the faint pink deepens in his cheeks as he glances back down at the circlet, quickly busying himself with adjusting a few sketches on the table.

"Thank you," he says, clearing his throat as he tries to recover his usual composure. “Your insight is… invaluable. I would be honored if you would consider assisting with the chest plate. Gil-galad deserves a piece crafted with the care and precision you bring.” He’s fidgeting now, his fingers adjusting the circlet for the third time, his voice losing a little of its steady confidence.

You smile, reaching out to gently stop his hand as it fusses over a perfectly aligned sketch. “I’d be glad to work on it with you. No need to be so shy, Celebrimbor. We are, after all, just discussing armor.” You tilt your head, letting a hint of warmth seep into your tone. “And if you’re interested, I know a lovely spot near the river—a quiet place for tea and lemon cakes as the sun goes down. Seems like a perfect end to a day at the forge, don’t you think?”

His hand stills under yours, his mouth opening slightly in surprise before a hesitant, boyish grin breaks across his face. “I—I would… I would like that very much.” He’s still blushing, but the usual shyness has melted, replaced with something softer, more open, as though the promise of an evening by the river has somehow lifted a weight from his heart.

“Good,” you say, letting your fingers linger just a second longer before releasing his hand. “Then let’s finish this work so we’re free to enjoy it.”

For the rest of the afternoon, he works by your side, his quiet confidence slipping back into place but interspersed with glances your way, a little less guarded each time. You both work in the comfort of an unspoken promise, the memory of warmth to carry with you until the golden light fades, leaving only the sound of the river and the sweetness of lemon cakes in its wake.

going on a bit of a historical tangent here alongside my already existent tolkien tangent

"Dr. Lawrence, I presume?" "You must be Oppenheimer. I hear you want to start a school of quantum theory."

Oppenheimer (2023)

being a silmarillion fan is looking at a piece of fanart featuring forty different elves who all have the same shade of either black or gold hair and instantly being able to tell by their vibe who is who and which finwhatever is which

mastery

Gil-Galad was an Elven-king Of him the harpers sadly sing The last whose realm was fair and free Between the mountains and the sea

Hide-and-seek.

My hc is that Maedhros is kinda traumatized by never finding Elured and Elurin in the forest.

Also that’s a random laiquendi oc I needed for comic lol. No name.

A story about Gil-galad is in the works, will keep updating.

For now, what I can say about it is that it involves the High King falling for an OC of mine, Elrond's sister. I'm really excited to be writing this one, and I can't wait to release it in chapters.

Benjamin Walker as High King Gil-galad S2.E7 ∙ Doomed to Die