existentialwail



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  1. Public Bookmark 8

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    Death announces herself to all of Indis' scions, and as moths willingly scorching their wings, they all surrender into her embrace. All but one.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,856
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    3/7
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    76
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    8
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    26 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 18

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    Five Christmases, and four Christmas courts. Eleanor of Aquitaine sees the holidays through.

    Language:
    English
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    4,251
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    1/1
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    20
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    105
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    18
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    26 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    F.A. 560. While the War of Wrath rages in Beleriand, the House of Olwë attempts to assemble a more complete account of the First Kinslaying than what seems to be the common version these days.

    ("I feel like we could have done a better job passing it all along in song. But it's so much easier to lament for murdered kin and lost ships than it is to, to… Lament for my niece's harpoon collection which she can't look at any more. Lament for my husband being kicked by a panicking horse and not seeking a healer until it was too late because he was trying to help people. Lament for my daughter's expression when she talks about the drownings. Lament for coming to regret a mass grave.")

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    43,842
    Chapters:
    10/10
    Comments:
    154
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    245
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    102
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    4,294

    23 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 27

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    According to a popular saying in Tirion, history is written by the survivors and edited by the dead.

    Language:
    English
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    18,312
    Chapters:
    5/10
    Comments:
    54
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    69
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    27
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    1,363

    22 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 7

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    When Elrond learned the choice of his daughter, he was silent, though his heart was grieved and found the doom long feared none the easier to endure.

    – Return of the King, Appendix A, The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen, J. R. R. Tolkien

    Or, Arwen tells Elrond of her betrothal to Aragorn. He – doesn’t take it well.

    ---

    Her father! Her dear, dear world of a father. As ineluctable as the seasons and as unknowable. She was made in his likeness. They were a mirror and its reflection, spiralling on for eternity. A virus self-replicating, an aberration; their riverine bloodline nothing but a glitch in the great fabric of the universe, perpetuating itself over and over in the hopes of resolving its own paradox once and for all. The line of the peredhel – Arwen and Elrond and Elrond and Elwing and Elwing and Dior, all the way back to Lúthien herself – a poem of fixed meter and rhyming pairs, each generation following the same pattern time after time after time. No hope for escape.

    Arwen had to get out; she had to break the mirror. That was the only way any of it would end. Could he not see that? He had to. He had to.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    8,990
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    29
    Kudos:
    32
    Bookmarks:
    7
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    394

    20 May 2026

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