Elven Quotes

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Friends are the family you choose (~ Nin/Ithilnin, Elven rogue).

I was cold, hungry, and in a hole in the ground. But at least I had my elven porn, damnit!

Journey’s end In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud, the waters run, The merry finches sing. Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night, And swaying branches bear The Elven-stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair. Though here at journey's end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all towers strong and high, Beyond all mountains steep, Above all shadows rides the Sun And Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, Nor bid the Stars farewell.J.

Uh... ," Ivy stammered, and I glanced up to see her eyes wide in consideration. "I'm kidding," I said. "It passed the lethal-amulet test, remember?" "Not that. You keep it in your underwear drawer?" I hesitated, wondering why I was embarrassed. "Well, where do you put your elven magic?" I asked.

And he sang to them, now in the Elven tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

Three Rings for Elven-Kings under the sky Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie

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. His sword was long, his lance was keen, his shining helm afar was seen; the countless stars of heaven's field were mirrored in his silver shield. But long ago he rode away, and where he dwelleth none can say; for into darkness fell his star in Mordor where the shadows are.

Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it." "Are you saying we shouldn't hope?" "I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open!

The way to Elfin is found on the path That weaves through the Misty Forest That lives between the Mountain of Vision And the River of Reality

my dragon? save anybody? you must have have him confused with someone else- Smaug perhaps?...

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew: Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew. Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea, And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a Golden Tree. Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone, In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion. There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years, While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears. O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor. But if of ships I now would sing, what ship would come to me, What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?

She was aware of how much she was degrading herself. Yet at the same time, she had no motivation to care.

And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

You aren’t falling apart. You’re well beyond that. You’re just rattling along now. Elven dolls doing what little you can to gather the pieces as they fall away. But you don’t know how to properly reattach them—a doll does not repair itself. So you hug those brittle fragments to your chest until you simply cannot hug anymore. Until you’ve had to leave so many behind that you no longer remember what it is you’re missing.

Nin knew how much humans loved money, riches, and material things—though he never really could understand why. The more technologically advanced the human species got, the more isolated they seemed to become, at the same time. It was alarming, how humans could spend entire lifetimes engaged in all kinds of activities, without getting any closer to knowing who they really were, inside.

Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. 'Elendil!' he cried. 'I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!

The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinuviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled. He walked along and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wonder flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She lightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinuviel! Tinuviel! He called her by her elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinuviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinuviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless.

But that never happened and I moved on, and I think that’s all we can do at this point…

Thus died Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, most proud and valiant of the Elven-kings of old.

And Eowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: 'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Eowyn, do you not love me?

Maybe that’s how it has to be. Maybe there is no diplomatic solution for this? Perhaps one of them has to die?

great gandalfs ghost! if he had a ghost. i doubt it. he was such a snob...

Bah!” Magnus scoffed. “Humans always blame dwarves. A baby goes missing and it was a dwarf that stole it. A princess runs off with a second son of a king and it was a dwarf who lured her to a deep prison. And when they find her with the prince—lo, she was rescued! “A king is stabbed in the back in his own chapel, and a princess’s tower is turned into a death trap,” Royce called back to them. “Friends are betrayed and trapped in a prison—yes, I can see your surprise. Where do they get such ideas?” “Damn his elven ears,” Magnus said.

Then Aragorn was abashed, for he saw the elven-light in her eyes and the wisdom of many days; yet from that hour he loved Arwen Undómiel daughter of Elrond.

Yet seldom do they fail of their seed, And that will lie in the dust and rot to spring up again in times and places unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will outlast us.

ignition! blast off!!! the vessel needs a new name! something more appropriate to a starship. apollo? gemini? enterprise. already taken. millennium falcon. trademarked. all rights reserved. no! wait, i have it! dragin star! thats it! dragon star!

Anya looked upon Nin admirably. Having him as a partner-in-crime—if only on this one occasion, which she hoped would only be the start of something more—was more revitalizing than the cheap thrills of a cookie-cutter shallow, superficial romance, where the top priority was how beautiful a person was on the outside.

It is easy to trip over a rock when you are watching everyone else's footsteps.

wandering in the summer in the woods of Neldoreth [Beren] came upon Lúthien, daughter of Thingol and Melian, at a time of evening under moonrise, as she danced upon the unfading grass in the glades beside Esgalduin. Then all memory of his pain departed from him, and he fell into an enchantment; for Lúthien was the most beautiful of all the Children of Ilúvatar. Blue was her raiment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sewn with golden flowers, but her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. As the light upon the leaves of trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the stars above the mists of the world, such was her glory and her loveliness; and in her face was a shining light. But she vanished from his sigh; and he became dumb, as one that is bound under a spell, and he strayed long in the woods, wild and wary as a beast, seeking for her. In his heart he called her Tinúviel, that signifies Nightingale, daughter of twilight, in the Grey-elven tongue, for he knew no other name for her. And he saw her afar as leaves in the winds of autumn, and in winter as a star upon a hill, but a chain was upon his limbs.

Elven Hymn to Elbereth Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! O Queen beyond the Western Seas! O Light to us that wander here Amid the world of woven trees! Gilthoniel! O Elbereth! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee In a far land beyond the Sea. O stars that in the Sunless Year With shining hand by her were sown, In windy fields now bright and clear We see your silver blossom blown! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas. A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-díriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, si nef aearon! A Elbereth Gilthoniel! o menel palan-díriel le nallon sí di'nguruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos! A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

get back, get back! ill turn you into a piglet! ast a bula- no wait. that turns ME into a piglet!!

If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear the pain of loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater.

Love was a choice. But it was also a deep companionship. A sacrifice. A moving emotion far less fleeting than a mere feeling. And it was choosing again and again to focus on the companionship and love rather than whatever anger or annoyance that arose between two people stuck together for any length of time.

you wouldn't happen to have a pipe and a bit of tobacco about, would- i heard that! gandalf enjoyed a good pipe! why do you think he's called gandalf the gray? it wasn't for the color of his robes

I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don’t have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they’ll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there’s greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.

After all, if love was a choice as she’d been told, then how long did it take to make a choice? Only a moment, really. A series of moments as a person kept living out and making the choice again and again.

The Elven Way passes beyond the fields of the known into the forest of the unknown, illuminated by the glow of the elves.

The bear not only had a set of stripes sewn on his arm, it was possibly the first teddy-bear in history to have received a medal for service to the elven nation.

The most annoying thing, perhaps, was that the elven troop were obviously good people and were being kind to them, and yet Elliot felt subtly wrong-footed at every turn. He wondered if this was how Serene felt all the time, and he promised himself to bear it as well as she did.

In western lands beneath the Sun the flowers may rise in Spring, the trees may bud, the waters run, the merry finches sing. Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night and swaying beeches bear the Elven-stars as jewels white amid their branching hair. Though here at journey's end I lie in darkness buried deep, beyond all towers strong and high, beyond all mountains steep, above all shadows rides the Sun and Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, nor bid the Stars farewell.

It was as if they stood at the window of some elven-tower, curtained with threaded jewels of silver and gold, and ruby, sapphire and amethyst, all kindled with an unconsuming fire.

Arcadius was nothing but an old hack, what Cenzars used to refer to as a faquin, an elven term for the most inept magician—knowledge without talent.

It is not weakness to ask for help nor is it strength to silently bear what truly should not be your burden to carry. Burdens are not meant to be carried alone.

over protective? a butler in a grade- B movie? someones jewish mother? you got it

She gripped the front of his shirt. "I love you, Farrendel. Don't forget that." "Essie,shynafir." Her elven title fierce heart turned into an endearment. Farrendel kissed her,long and slow,a lingering farewell. He moved his kiss from her mouth to her cheek, then whispered in her ear, "You, my love, are fierce enough to survive this.

Elfin is surrounded by a sea of love, encompassed by a sky of near infinite possibility, exists in a forest of mystery and is ground on a tradition that is older than history and nearly as old as time . . . . —Ancient Elven Knowledge of The Silver Elves

At first the beauty of the melodies and of the interwoven words in elven-tongues, even though he understood them little, held him in a spell, as soon as as he began to attend to them. Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he had never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden mist above the seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.

Magic is the recognition of the fire burning behind us when all else see only their own shadow on the wall.

Farrendel was too busy gripping his emotional support swords to reach out for more help walking.

Happiness, like love, is the choice to dwell on the deeper joy, deeper contentment

Look, my friends!' he called. 'Here's a pretty hobbit-skin to wrap an elven princeling in! If it were known that hobbits had such hides, all the hunters of Middle Earth would be riding to the Shire.

Water runs if you try to grasp it, but pours onto an open hand.

How certain are you that this forest is Darken Wood, Raistin?" "How certain is one of anything, Half-Elven?" the mage replied. "I am not certain of drawing my next breath. But go ahead. Walk into the wood that no living man has ever walked out. Death is life's one great certainty, Tanis." The half-elf felt a sudden urge to throw Raistlin off the side of the mountain.

its like you said? i lead my people-" forth!" zifnab carried on enthusiastically! " out of eygpt! out of bondage! across the desert! pillar of fire-" desert?" lenthan looked anxious again. "fire? i thought we were going to the stars!" sorry. wrong script" zifnab said

After all, this wasn’t a story book where the handsome, brooding elf prince whisked her away to his home and fell passionately in love with her. But she could dream he would tolerate her. Maybe even be mildly fond of her. Either way, she was determined he wasn’t going to steal her joy or her happiness. She didn’t need him to make her happy.

He'd heard of elvenblossom wine. It was known for its stultifying bouquet of fruit blossoms and the battle-axe power of its alcohol content. Only those of elven blood could stomach the sweet stuff, he'd heard, and it was the alcoholic equivalent of being kicked in the head by a centaur.

The women would never let their men go to war against the source of their haircare products.

How can I help?" "Don't let me murder you." "I'm not sure how to refrain from dying by your magical hand, my lady, but I will endeavor to please you with every action.

Fight me, love. You'll need the strength at the pass. Let that power fly." She wouldn't hear him, but he couldn't help speaking to her like she was by his side.

I was ensorcelled from the moment you spoke with that sharp tongue of yours, my lioness, my princess of ice, my torture, and my salvation.

Oh, good. Another name I couldn’t pronounce. Someday, a dragon named Bob would introduce himself, and I would fall over in surprise.

Perhaps elven hair really was magic. If it started glowing when he sang, she wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Not that she could picture Farrendel singing.

Those of the Elven-race that lived still in Middle-earth waned and faded, and Men usurped the sunlight. Then the Quendi wandered in the lonely places of the great lands and the isles, and took to the moonlight and the starlight, and to the woods and caves, becoming as shadows and memories, save those who ever and anon set sail into the West and vanished from Middle-earth.

I choose this." Farrendel shouted the words this time, even though there was no one there to hear him. "I choose you, Essie. Do you hear that? I chose you, and I am going to survive this.

Now fair and marvellous was that vessel made, and it was filled with a wavering flame, pure and bright; and Earendil the Mariner sat at the helm, glistening with dust of elven-gems, and the Silmaril was bound upon his brow. Far he journeyed in that ship, even into the starless voids; but most often was he seen at morning or at evening, glimmering in sunrise or sunset, as he came back to Valinor from voyages beyond the confines of the world.

I felt like what he said was a thin cloth he held over what he meant, letting me see its shadow or its shape protruding. If I pushed at the veil, the mystery under the surface would poke out.

He fought for her. To give her time to escape. To make sure her kingdom did not fall even if his did.

Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

You read her books?” Loki held up a finger. “Don’t say it. She’s one of the best Elven storytellers, and you should have expected it.” “She writes love stories!” I teased. He scoffed. “And why should I not want to be wooed?

The fact that he was a good man-a good elven prince-made him all the more appealing.

With the soaring bliss of knowing she was in the arms of the one who adored her, she would risk absolutely everything for true love.

He’d risk everything for you, Sam,” Wyatt said. “He’d trade heaven for an eternity in the depths of hell to possess you.

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.

If we deny love that is given to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear the pain of loss, then our lives will be empty, our loss greater" - Tanis Half-elven

You are very wise, Tanis Half-Elven. But this time you are wrong,” she said to herself as she stood alone on her porch. “Lady Crysania isn’t mad. She’s in love.

...recalling Lúthien dancing fair with wild white roses in her hair, remembering her elven voice that rung while stars in twilight round her hung.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

An immortal key caster. You can create with your caster affinities and manipulate with your elven affinity. There has never been another one like you in our realm.” There is awe in her voice.

He did not know it, but Arwen Undómiel was also there, dwelling again for a time with the kin of her mother. She was little changed, for the mortal years had passed her by, yet her face was more grave, and her laughter now seldom was heard. But Aragorn was grown to full stature of body and mind, and Galadriel bade him cast aside his wayworn raiment, and she clothed him in silver and white, with a cloak of elven-grey and a bright gem on his brow. Then more than any kind of Men he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the Isles of the West. And thus it was that Arwen first beheld him again after their long parting; and as he came walking towards her under the trees of Caras Galadhon laden with flowers of gold, her choice was made and her doom appointed.

And Essie was real. Even without the heart bond existing, warm and taunting him with the life now out of his reach, he would know she was real. Because he never would have dreamed a talkative human princess with her flaming red hair and freckles. He did not have enough of an imagination to have conjured her.

Say that we’re moving at the speed of light.… Impossible, of course, if you believe physicists. Which I don’t, by the way. Physicists don’t believe in wizards—a fact that I, being a wizard, find highly insulting. I have taken my revenge, therefore, by refusing to believe in physicists. What was the question?

Hello,” said the beautiful elven maid. “I was just thinking, and I mean no offence, but—how can any fighting force crowded with the softer sex hope to prevail in battle?” “Huh?” said Elliot, brilliantly. “The softer what?” “I refer to men,” said the elf girl. “Naturally I was aware the Border guard admitted men, and I support men in their endeavor to prove they are equal to women, but their natures are not warlike, are they?

Then Frodo's heart flamed within him, and without thinking what he did, whether it was folly or despair or courage, he took the Phial in his left hand, and with his right hand drew his sword. Sting flashed out, and the sharp elven-blade sparkled in the silver light, but at its edges a blue fire flicked. Then holding the star aloft and the bright sword advanced, Frodo, hobbit of the Shire, walked steadily down to meet the eyes.

Then before I knew it, his considerable girth was inside me, stretching my virgin passage almost to the point of tearing, and he was thrusting into me as if he were trying to drive me completely through the mattress to the floor beneath.

In the end in that battle at the Escarlish border, he had chosen Essie rather than a quick death. Hope rather than despair. A future of torture for a chance to return to her.

Two days of marriage was probably a little too soon to start stealing his food.

to Sam’s final and complete satisfaction and pure joy, a minstrel of Gondor stood forth, and knelt, and begged leave to sing. And behold! he said: ‘Lo! lords and knights and men of valour unashamed, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye sons of Elrond, and Dúnedain of the North, and Elf and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.’ And when Sam heard that he laughed aloud for sheer delight, and he stood up and cried: ‘O great glory and splendour! And all my wishes have come true!’ And then he wept. And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

But the Elves were not so lightly to be caught. As soon as Sauron set the One Ring upon his finger they were aware of him; and they knew him, and perceived that he would be master of them, and of an that they wrought. Then in anger and fear they took off their rings. But he, finding that he was betrayed and that the Elves were not deceived, was filled with wrath; and he came against them with open war, demanding that all the rings should be delivered to him, since the Elven-smiths could not have attained to their making without his lore and counsel. But the Elves fled from him; and three of their rings they saved, and bore them away, and hid them. Now these were the Three that had last been made, and they possessed the greatest powers. Narya, Nenya, and Vilya, they were named, the Rings of Fire, and of Water, and of Air, set with ruby and adamant and sapphire; and of all the Elven-rings Sauron most desired to possess them, for those who had them in their keeping could ward off the decays of time and postpone the weariness of the world. But Sauron could not discover them, for they were given into the hands of the Wise, who concealed them and never again used them openly while Sauron kept the Ruling Ring. Therefore the Three remained unsullied, for they were forged by Celebrimbor alone, and the hand of Sauron had never touched them; yet they also were subject to the One.

Now the Elves made many rings; but secretly Sauron made One Ring to rule all the others, and their power was bound up with it, to be subject wholly to it and to last only so long as it too should last. And much of the strength and will of Sauron passed into that One Ring; for the power of the Elven-rings was very great, and that which should govern them must be a thing of surpassing potency; and Sauron forged it in the Mountain of Fire in the Land of Shadow. And while he wore the One Ring he could perceive all the things that were done by means of the lesser rings, and he could see and govern the very thoughts of those that wore them.

He floated by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning to a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished. Rauros roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars.

Thus Huan spake, who never before had uttered words, and but twice more did speak in elven tongue again; 'Lady beloved, whom all Men, who Elfinesse, and whom all things with fur and fell and feathered wings should serve and love - arise! away! Put on thy cloak! Before the day comes over Nargothrond we fly to Northern perils, thou and I.' And ere he ceased he counsel wrought for achievement of the thing they sought. There Lúthien listened in amaze, and softly on Huan did she gaze. Her arms about his neck she cast - In friendship that to death should last.

He halted amazed, thinking that he had strayed into a dream, or else that he had received the gift of the Elf-minstrels, who can make the things of which they sing appear before the eyes of those that listen. 'For Aragorn had been singing a part of the The Lay of Lúthien which tells of the meeting of Lúthien and Beren in the forest of Neldoreth. And behold! there Lúthien walked before his eyes in Rivendell, clad in a mantle of silver and blue, fair as the twilight in Elven-home; her dark hair strayed in a sudden wind, and her brows were bound with gems like stars.

Not thus do those of elven race forsake the love that they embrace. A love is mine, as great a power as thine, to shake the gate and tower of death with challenge weak and frail that yet endures, and will not fail nor yield, unvanquished were it hurled beneath the foundations of the world.

Ah, is this what you are after, Princess Mage?" He came close, his lips a breath from hers, his gaze flitting from her head to her neck, then back again. "Would you kiss me, even though you long to shatter my heart?

But in front a thin veil of water was hung, so near that Frodo could have put an outstretched arm into it. It faced westward. The level shafts of the setting sun behind beat upon it, and the red light was broken into many flickering beams of ever-changing colour. It was as if they stood at the window of some elven-tower, curtained with threaded jewels of silver and gold, and ruby, sapphire and amethyst, all kindled with an unconsuming fire.

Then breaking the silence Thingol said: 'Go your way therefore! Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown; and then, if she will, Lúthien may set her hand in yours. Then you shall have my jewel; and though the fate of Arda lie within the Silmarils, yet you shall hold me generous.' And those that heard these words perceived that Thingol would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death; for they knew that not all the power of the Noldor had availed even to see from afar the shining Silmarils of Feanor. For they were set in the Iron Crown, and treasured in Angband above all wealth; and Balrogs were about them, and countless swords, and strong bars, and unassailable walls, and the dark majesty of Morgoth. But Beren laughed. 'For little price,' he said, 'do Elven-kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made by craft. But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.

There was a bounty on my head, it was four days before Christmas, and I was having turtle gumbo with a merman, an undead pirate king, two loups-garou, and my best friend - a human pregnant with the half-elven child who had unknowingly helped set this whole debacle in motion. Plus a newbie vampire who didn't like the smell of food anymore.

Doi devin unul. Doua inimi. Un suflet.

He had shed his cloak, but still wore his crown. He looked like a king who'd lost his kingdom, tragic and beautiful.

Sethian grabbed my trembling hips in a bruising hold and began to thrust up into me almost violently, capturing my lips again in an equally bruising kiss.

Be humble for you are made of Earth, Be noble for you are made of stars

We choose who we will be; how we will act.

I can see where having a healer for a wife is going to come in handy.” “Just do not get your head chopped off. I cannot fix that.

Essie couldn’t pick out a word of what he was saying, but it did seem like he went on for several paragraphs.

There were only two good things about the winter solstice celebration at the fae court. Wine and wine.

Imp froze as he rounded the corner onto Regent Street, and saw four elven warriors shackling a Santa to a stainless-steel cross outside Hamleys Toy Shop.

One look at the stranger staring back re-convinced me that I had to be dreaming. It was me, but at the same time completely not me.

Physicists don’t believe in wizards—a fact that I, being a wizard, find highly insulting. I have taken my revenge, therefore, by refusing to believe in physicists.

My name means 'Keeper of Secrets' in High Elven. Your name means "Trust" in the old dwarven language. So I will hold you to your name, young Khadgar. Young Trust.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

is not only the execution and the excellence of the craft that determine the quality of a witcher’s sword. As with mysterious elven or gnomish blades, whose secret has been lost, the mysterious power of a witcher’s sword is bound to the hand and skill of the witcher wielding it. And, forsooth, owing to that magic’s mysteries it is greatly potent against the Dark Powers.

You must want to be more than you once were, and more than you are now. Something unfamiliar is required of each of us. We must sow our seeds in frozen ground to be able to harvest in spring.

In elven society caring for the children is considered a task for the menfolk,” said Elliot, sighing and wondering why nobody else ever bothered to read a book. “Of course it is,” said Serene. “The woman goes through the physically taxing and bloody experience of childbirth. A woman’s experience of blood and pain is, naturally, what makes womenkind particularly suited for the battlefield. Whereas men are the softer sex, squeamish about blood in the main. I know it’s the same for human men, Luke was extremely disinclined to discuss my first experience of a woman’s menses.

Shay picked that moment to walk back to the car. Thank God. Now we could leave, and I could get away from Nox and home to the beautiful Salvatore brothers. Shoot—were they Elven, too? Probably.

My hand was shaking as I accepted that perfect hand. I honestly felt that I had sold my soul the moment I felt his hand encircle mine. I was now utterly his; I felt it down to the very marrow of my bones.

We attract to our lives what we desire most and our intent enhances our ability to ascend or may serve as a one-way-ticket to the lowest levels of conscientiousness where many enter and few to none come out.

London was littered with social clubs and houses of chance, but Malfeasance was not just any gaming hell. It was located in the most notorious part of London and, Graydon had heard, was run by a pariah Djinn named Malphas.

Didn’t you hear me, Master Bower?” Kori glanced warily in my direction before edging closer to Master Bower. “She is the queen—the elven queen.” When the small man’s expression didn’t change, Kori whispered harshly, “Our queen!

He had not become a sentinel by worrying about what he should or shouldn't do. He would live or die as he always had, by making decision he knew to be right... Graydon didn't hide from life. He flew at it with everything he had.

Gunnar saw the resolve harden in their eyes, the anticipation giving way to steely determination. They were warriors, forged in the crucible of conflict, and they would meet whatever challenges lay ahead with unwavering resolve.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.’ He paused, and then said slowly in a deep voice: ‘This is the Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all.

His enormous cock slid into my slick passage once again, stretching my delicate tissues to the brink of what I could comfortably handle, and my feelings of excitement and arousal exploded exponentially. I moved to wrap my legs around him, but before I could, he dug his arms beneath my back and lifted us both up until he was sitting back onto his haunches and I was straddling him across his lap, his cock reaching even deeper into me so that I felt that it was almost splitting me in two.

for humans, death meant the end of everything. They lived in a condition of uncertainty, and maybe that was what made their lives so valuable. No human knew what would happen to his soul after death, so they had to make the best of things in life. And

Shale’s answers were, for the most part, sarcastic. When asked what kind of rock it consisted of, Shale answered “petrified nug droppings.” When asked how it was created, Shale responded with a long explanation of mother golems and father golems which Pharamond believed for five whole minutes. When asked how it could see through those points of lights in its eye sockets, Shale commented that it actually preferred tearing the eyeballs out of flesh creatures and using them instead—elven ones in particular.

The Elven people believe that preservation of the land and all that lives and grows upon it, plant and animal alike, is a moral responsibility. They have always held this belief foremost in their conduct as creatures of the earth. In the old world, they devoted the whole of their lives to caring for the woodlands and forests in which they lived, cultivating its various forms of vegetation, sheltering the animals that it harbored. Of course, they had little else to concern them in those days, for they were an isolated and reclusive people. All that has changed now, but they still maintain a belief in their moral responsibility for their world. Every Elf is expected to spend a portion of his life giving back to the land something of what he has taken out of it. By that I mean every Elf is expected to devote a part of his life to working with the land–to repairing damage it may have suffered through misuse or neglect, to caring for its animals and other wildlife, to caring for its trees and smaller plants where the need to do so is found.

Filip was removing his vest, sleeves, and tunic. Of course he was. The man loved being half naked. "And why is he disrobing?" Her teeth ground together. "I assume it's so his entire uniform doesn't suffer from the water?" Sunniva retied the black ribbon holding her knotted hair at her neck. "Right" Filip tried to focus on Aury's voice within the mess of noise from the running water and the many humans lined up around the field. "...he disrobing?" He chuckled. "To watch color rise to your lovely cheeks, amant," he whispered.

My face was burning so hotly that I imagined flames were consuming my cheeks. Yet, somehow I managed a shaky smile and a murmured, “We were interrupted…” His enormous cock slid into my slick passage once again, stretching my delicate tissues to the brink of what I could comfortably handle,

Leaden fatigue crept into his limbs. With every breath, the icy frost sliced into his throat. Utterly exhausted, he leaned against one of the stones. Gusting wind tore at his frost-stiffened clothes. The belt around his upper leg had loosened, and blood now seeped through the scraps of wool.

Stout Gudleif kneeled and spiked the shaft of his spear into the ground, then dug into the fresh snow with his hands and formed a snowball. The snow crunched softly as he pressed it. Gudleif looked to Mandred, and the jarl nodded. The snowball flew in a wide arc into the bush. Nothing moved.

Almost as if speaking to herself, she continued, I would love to fly. I've always wondered what it be like to have that sense of freedom. A wistful note in her voice tugged at something deep inside him.He replied. I couldn't conceive of living without it. I can't imagine being forever grounded.

The thought struck Dennis that a hundred years before he was even born Tinuva undoubtedly knew of the river. Again he realized just how ancient the elven race was and with it came the recognition of just how much they risked when facing battle: it wasn't just a score of years in the balance, it was a score of decades.

He broke into a smile again, a boyish grin. "You know what the best part is? You didn't even steal the real manuscript." He picked up the book again. "I had a forgery placed in my vault, just to be safe. The real elven manuscript is in my library." He tossed the book aside. "After all, young lady, that's where books go.

I can see you have a bride as well,” she translated. “Is it this Demon male next to you?” “What?” Merikh choked out, turning his face to Jabez with his orbs whitening. “Fuck no. This piece of shit wishes. My bride is a beautiful Elven female named Raewyn. This idiot’s name is Jabez, and he’s just helping me out for today.

I was a precocious child, and I resolved to read everything I could get my hands on, in order to encapsulate the whole of human knowledge. At the time the project seemed less impractical than it does today. I did as best I could and by the time I was ten or elven had read what I suspect was equivalent to a college education.

Der Erlkönig Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind ? Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind ; Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm, Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm. Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht ?- Siehst Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht ? Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif ?- Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif. - "Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir ! Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir ; Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand, Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand." Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht, Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht ?- Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind ! In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.- "Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn ? Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön ; Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein." Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort ?- Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau : Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.- "Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt ; Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt." Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an ! Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan ! Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind, Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind, Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not ; In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

No one should know their fate too clearly. No life can flourish in the shadow of the future.

for not even the most powerful runes ever traced upon a body could guard against love’s insidious poison.

I moaned and arched my body closer to his mouth, pressing his head down with both my hands in the same instant.

We are not here to reclaim a Faerie that once was, but to participate in a Faerie that ever is.

- [...] Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar, powtarzała, co się po ichniemu wykłada jako... - Coś się kończy, coś się zaczyna.

The times make those who live in them

Maybe I should get my status as your mate printed on a T-shirt for those without magical senses.” He scrutinized me, probably looking for sarcasm; he must have missed it. “Yes. Do this.

I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don't have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they'll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there's greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.

For what felt like hours, we sucked on each other’s tongues while his hands seemed determined to search out and skillfully caress every spot on my body within reach that made me shudder and moan, his rock-hard erection equally determined to stimulate me into a frenzy as he sensually rubbed himself almost teasingly against my pelvis. Then before I knew it, his considerable girth was inside me,

Don’t even get me started on who the elven archers know—let’s just put it this way: Their daddy’s bigger than your daddy.” “They all ally with those witch mercenaries?” She nodded. “Naughty Lykae, creating an interspecies incident like this. Six immortals you trapped. This is a Charlie Foxtrot of epic proportions.” At Lachlain’s irritated look, Emma supplied, “Charlie Foxtrot is code for a cluster fuck.

Yet not all the Eldalië were willing to forsake the Hither Lands where they had long suffered and long dwelt; and some lingered many an age in Middle-earth. Among those were Círdan the Shipwright, and Celeborn of Doriath, with Galadriel his wife, who alone remained of those who led the Noldor to exile in Beleriand. In Middle-earth dwelt also Gil-galad the High King, and with him was Elrond Half-elven, who chose, as was granted to him, to be numbered among the Eldar; but Elros his brother chose to abide with Men. And from these brethren alone has come among Men the blood of the Firstborn and a strain of the spirits divine that were before Arda; for they were the sons of Elwing, Dior’s daughter, Lúthien’s son, child of Thingol and Melian; and Eärendil their father was the son of Idril Celebrindal, Turgon’s daughter of Gondolin.

Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you.

He said he would have a program running in the background to monitor the game. If my true name is ever spoken aloud, the dungeon will smite me even if he’s not paying attention. … You’re not the one being monitored by some kind of auto-smite program.

It's all my fault,' she mumbled. 'That scar blights me, I know. I know what you see when you look at me. There's not much elf left in me. A gold nugget in a pile of compost—' He turned around suddenly. 'You're extremely modest,' he drawled. 'I would say rather: a pearl in pig shit. A diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse. As part of your language training you can create even more comparisons. I'll test you on them tomorrow, little Dh'oine. O human creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman.

How do we know, Master," Tanis asked hesitantly, "Whether the life of any creature has fulfilled its destiny? I have known the very old to die in bitterness and despair. I have seen young children die before their time but leave behind such a legacy of love and joy that grief for their passing was tempered by the knowledge that their brief lives had given much to others." "You have answered your own question, Tanis Half-Elven, far better than I could," the Forestmaster said gravely. "Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.

you do not go, because only your brother called for you, and to look on the Lord Aragorn, Elendil's heir, in his triumph would now bring you no joy. Or because I do not go, and you desire still to be near me. And maybe for both these reasons, and you yourself cannot choose between them. Éowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?' 'I wished to be loved by another,' she answered, 'But I desire no man's pity.' 'That I know,' he said. 'You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn. Because he was high and puissant, and you wished to have renown and glory and to be lifted far above the mean things that crawl on the earth. And as a great captain may to a young soldier he seemed to you admirable. For so he is, a lord among men, the greatest that now is. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle. Look at me, Éowyn!' And Éowyn looked at Faramir long and steadily; and Faramir said: 'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity, For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn do you not love me?' Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. 'I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,' she said; 'and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a sheildmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.' And again she looked at Faramir. 'No longer do I desire to be a queen,' she said. Then Faramir laughed merrily. 'That is well,' he said; 'for I am not a king. Yet I will wed with the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will. And if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden. All things will grow with joy there, if the White Lady comes.

I read the earliest date aloud, October twenty-third, and scanned the numbers for the next oldest, and the next. I glanced up after four or five. “What’s that you’re drawing?” I asked. Jackaby scowled. “Recording the dates. Keep going.” “Is that an elven language or something?” He stood back from the chalkboard and stared at it blankly. “No.” “Are those pictograms? What’s that bit you just finished? The one that looks like a goose tugging at a bit of string?” “That’s a seven.” “Oh.” We both looked at the board. I tilted my head. “Oh right—I see. I think.

The Erl-King O, who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild? It is the fond father embracing his child; And close the boy nestles within his loved arm, To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm. “O father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says; “My boy, upon what doest thou fearfully gaze?” — “O, ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud.” “No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.” (Tke Erl-King speaks.) “O come and go with me, thou loveliest child; By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled; My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy, And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.” “O, father, my father, and did you not hear The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?” — “Be still, my heart’s darling — my child, be at ease; It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.” Erl-King. “O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy? My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy; She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild, And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child.” “O father, my father, and saw you not plain, The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?” — “O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon; It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.” Erl-King. “O come and go with me, no longer delay, Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.” — “O father! O father! now, now keep your hold, The Erl-King has seized me — his grasp is so cold!” Sore trembled the father; he spurr’d thro’ the wild, Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child; He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread, But, clasp’d to his bosom, the infant was dead! - From the German of Goethe, translation, 1797.

Through Evernight he back was borne on black and roaring waves that ran o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores that drowned before the Days began, until he heard on strands of pearl where ends the world the music long, where ever-foaming billows roll the yellow gold and jewels wan. He saw the Mountain silent rise where twilight lies upon the knees of Valinor, and Eldamar beheld afar beyond the seas. A wanderer escaped from night to haven white he came at last, to Elvenhome the green and fair where keen the air, where pale as glass beneath the Hill of Ilmarin a-glimmer in a valley sheer the lamplit towers of Tirion are mirrored on the Shadowmere. He tarried there from errantry, and melodies they taught to him, and sages old him marvels told, and harps of gold they brought to him. They clothed him then in elven-white, and seven lights before him sent, as through the Calacirian to hidden land forlorn he went. He came unto the timeless halls where shining fall the countless years, and endless reigns the Elder King in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer; and words unheard were spoken then of folk of Men and Elven-kin, beyond the world were visions showed forbid to those that dwell therein. A ship then new they built for him of mithril and of elven-glass with shining prow; no shaven oar nor sail she bore on silver mast: the Silmaril as lantern light and banner bright with living flame to gleam thereon by Elbereth herself was set, who thither came and wings immortal made for him, and laid on him undying doom, to sail the shoreless skies and come behind the Sun and light of Moon.

She paused and unexpectedly stroked her fingers down the feathers of his neck. He froze. She couldn't know how intimate that seemed, or how sensitive he was to her touch even through the sleek covering of eagle feathers. Pleasure at being petted ran down his spine. He should say something or step away. He did neither. Instead, ever so slightly, he leaned into her touch. It was wrong of him, but his wrong button seemed to be broken, and he didn't care.

In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they were perilous. ‘A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the Dark Power that rules the Rings. Yes, sooner or later – later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last – sooner or later the Dark Power will devour him.

They only kidnap elven pups and only harm elves, which is good in itself, for the more harm is done to non-humans, the greater the benefits for real folk. But she-foxes are monsters, and monsters should be exterminated, destroyed, should be wiped out as a race. You live from that, after all, Witcher, you contribute to it. And I hope you won’t bear us a grudge either that we’re contributing to the extermination of monsters. But, it seems to me, these digressions are in vain. You wanted explanations; you’ve got them. You know now what you’re being hired to do and against what … against what you have to defend us.” “No offence, but your explanations are as foggy as urine from an infected bladder,” Geralt commented calmly. “And the loftiness of your expedition’s goal is as dubious as a maiden’s virginity after a village fête. But that’s your business. It’s my job to advise you that the only way to defend yourself against an aguara is to stay well away from it. Mr. van Vliet?” “Yes?” “Return home.

Was this mark in the service of a magus?” “Yes.” She frowned. “My master, Warlord Grimore, does all he can to oppose the magus plague.” “Grimore, you say?” Troy’s gaze slid over to me. “I thought you called her companion.” “She is.” She tensed at Troy’s tone. “I misspoke. Grimore is my former master. Master Whispier is now my master.” “Companion,” I corrected. She lifted her face and met my gaze across the table. “You are my companion, and I am yours. We are equals in this bond.” The depths of her dark eyes flashed with sudden, intense emotion. Troy moved to speak, but I lifted my hand to stop him. “You wish to say something, Avril?” “There is nothing equal about our bond. I agreed to spend time in your presence. What have I received in return?” “Safety, security, food, rest—” “And no freedom.” “Hardly. You can come and go as you please. Just return by nightfall.” I purposefully picked up my glass with a careful movement. “I told you that you were free to do anything short of attacking me.” A biscuit bounced off my head with such force that it rebounded across the room and struck the far wall.

Line of AuNor, dragon bold Flows to me from days of old, And through years lost in the mist My blood names a famous list. By Air, by Water, by Fire, by Earth In pride I claim a noble birth. From EmLar Gray, a deadly deed By his flame Urlant was freed, Of fearsome hosts of blighters dark And took his reward: a golden ark! My Mother’s sire knew battle well Before him nine-score villages fell. When AuRye Red coursed the sky Elven arrows in vain would fly, He broke the ranks of men at will In glittering mines dwarves he’d kill. Grandsire he is through Father’s blood A river of strength in fullest flood. My egg was one of Irelia’s Clutch Her wisdom passed in mental touch. Mother took up before ever I woke The parent dragon’s heavy yoke; For me, her son, she lost her life Murderous dwarves brought blackened knife. A father I had in the Bronze AuRel Hunter of renown upon wood and fell He gave his clutch through lessons hard A chance at life beyond his guard. Father taught me where, and when, and how To fight or flee, so I sing now. Wistala, sibling, brilliant green Escaped with me the axes keen We hunted as pair, made our kill From stormy raindrops drank our fill When elves and dwarves took after us I told her “Run,” and lost her thus. Bound by ropes; by Hazeleye freed And dolphin-rescued in time of need I hid among men with fishing boats On island thick with blown sea-oats I became a drake and breathed first fire When dolphin-slaughter aroused my ire. I ran with wolves of Blackhard’s pack Killed three hunters on my track The Dragonblade’s men sought my hide But I escaped through a fangèd tide Of canine friends, assembled Thing Then met young Djer, who cut collar-ring. I crossed the steppes with dwarves of trade On the banks of the Vhydic Ironriders slayed Then sought out NooMoahk, dragon black And took my Hieba daughter back To find her kind; then took first flight Saw NooMoahk buried in honor right. When war came to friends I long had known My path was set, my heart was stone I sought the source of dreadful hate And on this Isle I met my fate Found Natasatch in a cavern deep So I had one more promise to keep. To claim this day my life’s sole mate In future years to share my fate A dragon’s troth is this day pledged To she who’ll see me fully fledged. Through this dragon’s life, as dragon-dame shall add your blood to my family’s fame.

I serve no man,’ said Aragorn; ‘but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.’ Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. ‘Elendil!’ he cried. ‘I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!’ Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.

Early this morning I went to her, alone, seeking to find a weapon with which we might stand against our enemy. She gave me audience, speaking with the images that are her words, asking why I had come. I told her that the Elves had no magic save my own with which to counter the power of the Demons; I told her that I feared that this alone might not be enough, that I might fail. I told her that I sought something of what she is with which to do battle against the Demons, for she is an anathema to them. “Then she reached down within herself and stripped away this staff which I hold, this limb of her body. Weakened, knowing that she dies, she yet managed to give to me a part of herself with which to aid the Elven people. I did not touch her, did nothing but stand in awe of her strength of will. Feel this wood, King of the Elves—touch it!” He thrust the staff into Eventine’s hands, and they closed about it. The King’s eyes widened in shock. The Druid took the staff from him then and passed it wordlessly to Ander. The Elven Prince started. The wood of the staff was warm, as if the blood of life flowed within. “It lives!” the Druid breathed reverently. “Apart and separate from her, yet still filled with her life! It is the weapon that I sought. It is the talisman that will protect the Elves against the black sorcery of the Demon hordes.

Le Roi des Aulnes Quel est ce chevalier qui file si tard dans la nuit et le vent ? C'est le père avec son enfant ; Il serre le petit garçon dans son bras, Il le serre bien, il lui tient chaud. « Mon fils, pourquoi caches-tu avec tant d'effroi ton visage ? — Père, ne vois-tu pas le Roi des Aulnes ? Le Roi des Aulnes avec sa traîne et sa couronne ? — Mon fils, c'est un banc de brouillard. — Cher enfant, viens, pars avec moi ! Je jouerai à de très beaux jeux avec toi, Il y a de nombreuses fleurs de toutes les couleurs sur le rivage, Et ma mère possède de nombreux habits d'or. — Mon père, mon père, et n'entends-tu pas, Ce que le Roi des Aulnes me promet à voix basse ? — Sois calme, reste calme, mon enfant ! C'est le vent qui murmure dans les feuilles mortes. — Veux-tu, gentil garçon, venir avec moi ? Mes filles s'occuperont bien de toi Mes filles mèneront la ronde toute la nuit, Elles te berceront de leurs chants et de leurs danses. — Mon père, mon père, et ne vois-tu pas là-bas Les filles du Roi des Aulnes dans ce lieu sombre ? — Mon fils, mon fils, je vois bien : Ce sont les vieux saules qui paraissent si gris. — Je t'aime, ton joli visage me charme, Et si tu ne veux pas, j'utiliserai la force. — Mon père, mon père, maintenant il m'empoigne ! Le Roi des Aulnes m'a fait mal ! » Le père frissonne d'horreur, il galope à vive allure, Il tient dans ses bras l'enfant gémissant, Il arrive à grand-peine à son port ; Dans ses bras l'enfant était mort.

On the other side of the mountain, Drizzt Do'Urden opened his eyes from his daytime slumber. Emerging from the cave into the growing gloom, he found Wulfgar in the customary spot, poised meditatively on a high stone, staring out over the plain. "You long for your home?" the drow asked rhetorically. Wulfgar shrugged his huge shoulders and answered absently, "Perhaps." The barbarian had come to ask many disturbing questions of himself about his people and their way of life since he had learned respect for Drizzt. The Drow was an enigma to him, a confusing combination of fighting brilliance and absolute control. Drizzt seemed able to weigh every move he ever made in the scales of high adventure and indisputable morals. Wulfgar turned a questioning gaze on the drow. "Why are you here?" he asked suddenly. Now it was Drizzt who stared reflectively into the openness before them. The first stars of the evening had appeared, their reflections sparkling distinctively in the dark pools of the elf's eyes. But Drizzt was not seeing them; his mind was viewing long past images of the lightless cities of the drow in their immense cavern complexes far beneath the ground. "I remember," Drizzt recalled vividly, as terrible memories are often vivid, "'the first time I ever viewed this surface world. I was a much younger elf then, a member of a large raiding party. We slipped out from a secret cave and descended upon a small elven village." The drow flinched at the images as they flashed again in his mind. "My companions slaughtered every member of the wood elf clan. Every female. Every child." Wulfgar listened with growing horror. The raid that Drizzt was describing might well have been one perpetrated by the ferocious Tribe of the Elk. "My people kill," Drizzt went on grimly. "They kill without mercy." He locked his stare onto Wulfgar to make sure that the barbarian heard him well. "They kill without passion." He paused for a moment to let the barbarian absorb the full weight of his words. The simple yet definitive description of the cold killers had confused Wulfgar. He had been raised and nurtured among passionate warriors, fighters whose entire purpose in life was the pursuit of battle-glory - fighting in praise of Tempos. The young barbarian simply could not understand such emotionless cruelty. A subtle difference, though, Wulfgar had to admit. Drow or barbarian, the results of the raids were much the same. "The demon goddess they serve leaves no room for the other races," Drizzt explained. "Particularly the other races of elves." "But you will never come to be accepted in this world," said Wulfgar. "Surely you must know that the humans will ever shun you." Drizzt nodded. "Most," he agreed. "I have few that I can call friends, yet I am content. You see, barbarian, I have my own respect, without guilt, without shame." He rose from his crouch and started away into the darkness. "Come," he instructed. "Let us fight well this night, for I am satisfied with the improvement of your skills, and this part of your lessons nears its end." Wulfgar sat a moment longer in contemplation. The drow lived a hard and materially empty existence, yet he was richer than any man Wulfgar had ever known. Drizzt had clung to his principles against overwhelming circumstances, leaving the familiar world of his own people by choice to remain in a world where he would never be accepted or appreciated. He looked at the departing elf, now a mere shadow in the gloom. "Perhaps we two are not so different," he mumbled under his breath.

On account of their puny size and disappointing taste, in France wild pears are known as "poires d'angoisse" or pears of anguish. In Versailles, though, in the kitchen garden, pears are bred for pleasure. Of the five hundred pear trees, the best usually fruit in January--- the royal favorite, a type called "Bon Chrétien d'Hiver," or "Good Christian of Winter." Each pear is very large--- the blossom end engorged, the eye deeply sunk--- whilst the skin is a finely grained pale yellow, with a red blush on the side that has been touched by the sunlight. It is known for its brittle, lightly scented, almost translucent flesh that drips with a sugary juice; that soaks your mouth when your teeth sink into it. The gardener here, Jean-Baptiste de La Quintinie, says that when a pear is ripe its neck yields to the touch and smells slightly of wet roses. This winter they have not ripened, though, but have frozen to solid gold. Murders of crows sit on the branches of the pear trees, pecking at the rime of them. They have become fairy fruit; those dangling impossibilities. What would you give to taste one? Spring always comes, though. Is it not magic? The world's deep magic. March brings the vast respite of thaw, that huge unburdening, that gentling--- all winter's knives and jaws turning soft and blunt; little chunks of ice riding off on their own giddy melt; everything dripping and plipping and making little streams and rivulets; tender pellucid fingers feeling their way towards the sea; all the tiny busywork. And with the returning sun, too, sex. Tulips, first found as wild flowers in Central Asia--- named for the Persian word "tulipan," for turban--- thrust and bow in the warm soil of Versailles, their variegated "broken" petals licked with carmine flames. The early worm-catchers begin their chorus, skylarks and song thrushes courting at dawn. Catkins dangle like soft, tiny pairs of elven stockings. Fairy-sized wigs appear on the pussy willows. Hawthorn and sloe put on their powder and patches, to catch a bee's eye.

So, you can sort it?" Hirad's whisper was gruff. "Our elven friends are getting nervous about rapidly closing patrolmen and I'm getting old.

this birthing celebration. No longer would elven society hide itself away from the kingdom folk. They would embrace each other and celebrate life. After all, Tamaerra was as much human as she was elf. Dieter Willowbrow became known throughout the Forest of Evermore as the elf who saved their whole race from annihilation. The Queen Mother offered Dieter the position of Master of Defense, but after fighting a war and reading the stories that Vaegon had written in his journal, Dieter found that the forest couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore. He declined in order to join the great wizard Hyden Hawk and his band of demon hunters. Bzorch, the mighty Lord of Locar, fought snappers, dactyls, and packs of zard for months while struggling to get out of the marshes. The fall he took hadn’t killed him. He found a rise on which to rest while he healed. He lived off of snappers and small geka until he was ready. Then he covered himself with the moss that hung from the swamp trees so he looked like one of the trolls that the typical marsh denizens seemed to avoid. He spent three long months fighting his way through the

The walls dropped down in a sloping dome, and I left an arched doorway for the entrance. I modeled the cutouts for the windows after the ones in the hall of the Elven Council, just as a subtle fuck you, and when I’d finished, there were a dozen circular cut outs around the upper portion of the wall.

The elf stared back without speaking, and as he looked between Cayla and me, his gaze fell on her ass every time like a bad tick. I sighed, and Dragir must have looked over, because he suddenly said something in Elvish to the man that made his eyes go wide with fear, and he remained staring diligently at the pile of rockets he was responsible for instead. “He doesn’t speak English,” Dragir explained. I furrowed my brow. “What did you tell him?” “I told him you would skin him alive and feed his innards to his own family if he kept it up,” Dragir replied. “This is accurate, yes?” I grinned. “It’s a little elven, but yeah, basically.

Oh, you know, it’s the usual elven bullshit,” I told her. “I had my meeting with Aeris last night while you ladies were at the feast, and he didn’t seem very surprised to hear the head of House Syru had runes engraved on him. Now that I think about it, he seemed to care the least about that part, in fact.” “So … ” Cayla led, “how does that put you in the doghouse?” “Welp,” I belched. “Now, I get to hand over a hundred and fifty rifles, and if I’m a good boy he’ll talk to me about rune magic when I’m done.” I sent a pointed look in their general direction, but I was too drunk to tell if I’d gotten it right. “So obviously … I’m drinking and fucking around instead.

Miss Deya,” the leader finally said, and his tone was the condescending sort I’d only heard people use with children. “You come from a simpler way of living, I know, and although your father certainly has the best intentions, I must alert you to the fact that this is an inexcusable arrangement. You cannot expect a halfling to protect you. You cannot trust their kind. This creature will likely turn on you, and if it does not, you will certainly lose much esteem here in the capital to be seen in this sort of … company.” My pulse kicked up a notch as one of the sons sneered at Aurora, but Deya seemed unphased by the leader’s speech. “It’s very generous of you to consider my reputation as carefully as you do your own,” she assured him, “however I would not dismiss Miss Solana for anything.” The elven beauty wound her slender arm around Aurora’s affectionately. “Miss Solana absolutely loves burning men alive for me. She’s irreplaceable.” Deya sent a sweet smile to the three sons, and I tried not to laugh at the expression on their faces.

Still … if Dragir took much more time making up his mind, I’d probably plant my fist through his arrogant face. I had begun to seriously entertain the idea when the leaves rustled at the edge of the house, and the beautiful elven woman emerged. Dragir flicked his eyes to her. “Go inside, Deya,” he growled. Deya held her violet eyes steadily with his own as she slowly came to his side, and she rested her hand on his shoulder as she spoke softly. Her words were in Elvish, but they sounded tender and sincere, and her brother’s face finally lost its hostile edge. His gaze drifted to the ground as he listened, and when Deya finished speaking, she waited patiently for a long moment before Dragir gave a small nod. Deya turned her violet eyes to me, and my heart kicked an extra beat as her beauty caught me off guard again. “We accept,” Deya said. “Thank you for your kindness. It means the world to us.” I only nodded in response, because I’d lost track of where my mouth connected to my brain. Then the elven woman raised her pale hand and gestured for us to follow her around the side of the house. We moved to join her, but Dragir’s hand snapped out at the last second, and he locked his grip around Aurora’s elbow. “Not her,” he growled. And that was my limit. “Alright,” I sighed, just before I planted my fist in the stubborn elf’s face.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

The grandfather clock gonged three. Papa spoke a word that sounded like a spell, though I couldn't be sure. It was neither kind nor cruel. It was simply a wheel going into its grooves. All I knew then was that I was falling through time, years opening up into a black abyss that swallowed me whole. When they spit me out I was sixteen again, Dr. Bakay's hands on my budding breasts; I was thirteen, eating my bird-mother for supper; I was elven and Papa was dragging me down the stairs and into the foyer so I could tell fortunes for men with lust in their eyes. I was nine and lying awake at night at Papa's footsteps made the wood ache and groan.

Morgoth set his left foot upon his neck, and the weight of it was like a fallen hill. Yet with his last and desperate stroke Fingolfin hewed the foot with Ringil, and the blood gushed forth black and smoking and filled the pits of Grond. Thus died Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, most proud and valiant of the Elven-kings of old. The Orcs made no boast of that duel at the gate; neither do the Elves sing of it, for their sorrow is too deep. Yet the tale of it is remembered still,

As soon as Sauron set the One Ring upon his finger they were aware of him; and they knew him, and perceived that he would be master of them, and of all that they wrought. Then in anger and fear they took off their rings. But he, finding that he was betrayed and that the Elves were not deceived, was filled with wrath; and he came against them with open war, demanding that all the rings should be delivered to him, since the Elven-smiths could not have attained to their making without his lore and counsel. But the Elves fled from him; and three of their rings they saved, and bore them away, and hid them.

they possessed the greatest powers. Narya, Nenya, and Vilya, they were named, the Rings of Fire, and of Water, and of Air, set with ruby and adamant and sapphire; and of all the Elven-rings Sauron most desired to possess them, for those who had them in their keeping could ward off the decays of time and postpone the weariness of the world. But Sauron could not discover them, for they were given into the hands of the Wise, who concealed them and never again used them openly while Sauron kept the Ruling Ring.

From that time war never ceased between Sauron and the Elves; and Eregion was laid waste, and Celebrimbor slain, and the doors of Moria were shut. In that time the stronghold and refuge of Imladris, that Men called Rivendell, was founded by Elrond Half-elven; and long it endured. But Sauron gathered into his hands all the remaining Rings of Power; and he dealt them out to the other peoples of Middle-earth, hoping thus to bring under his sway all those that desired secret power beyond the measure of their kind. Seven rings he gave to the Dwarves; but to Men he gave nine, for Men proved in this matter as in others the readiest to his will. And all those rings that he governed he perverted, the more easily since he had a part in their making, and they were accursed, and they betrayed in the end all those that used them. The Dwarves indeed proved tough and hard to tame; they ill endure the domination of others, and the thoughts of their hearts are hard to fathom, nor can they be turned to shadows. They used their rings only for the getting of wealth; but wrath and an overmastering greed of gold were kindled in their hearts, of which evil enough after came to the profit of Sauron.

All souls are immortal, human or otherwise, and Elven love is for eternity...

and a full scoop of alfalfa

He went to the greatest nation of his time—the Elven people under the command of a courageous young King named Jerle Shannara—and offered his assistance.

Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. ‘Elendil!’ he cried. ‘I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!’ Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before. He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. For a moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.

But the Elves fled from him; and three of their rings they saved, and bore them away, and hid them. Now these were the Three that had last been made, and they possessed the greatest powers. Narya, Nenya, and Vilya, they were named, the Rings of Fire, and of Water, and of Air, set with ruby and adamant and sapphire; and of all the Elven-rings Sauron most desired to possess them,

What are we saying about how secure we are in our beliefs if a difference of opinion is such a threat that we can’t tolerate listening to it or considering it?

One thing I knew from experience was that people mourned differently. No two people go through the loss of someone they cared about in precisely the same way. If

In a split second, the world around him changed, and he found himself in the middle of an endless ocean of blood. Looking up, he saw a huge mouth, vomiting an uncountable number of mutilated elven corpses.

Are all the Elven as impertinent as you? Perhaps it's best Lord Darkon didn't conquer them.

Come on stub-ears, you can do better than that!" Steel danced and shone before Elly as she desperately blocked strike after strike, her attacker toying with her, relentless in aggression both physical and verbal. He was taller than her, lighter than her, and he moved with true elven grace, gliding around her with his elegantly curved and vicious sword. He lashed out with a practised flick of his wrist that she struggled to read and barely caught with her blade, but he was already moving on, his sword flowing around, a killing blow coming straight for her neck if she did not move– "Sorry stub-ears, I'll try to slow down…" A feint! He could have ended it there, and yet it wasn't enough; no, he had to humiliate her. Before her cheeks could redden he was on her again, thrusting, striking at her thighs, her shoulders, the sting of the metal slowing her down and throwing her off-balance. Elly focused on protecting what she could, guarding her head and torso, anger building in her, wrestling with her for control of the light sword that was her best defence against– "Death!" The tip of his blade was under her raised arm, against the gap in her breastplate beside her triceps. And at once he sprang back, swung his nimble weapon in a lazy figure-of-eight, rolled his shoulders less from tension and more to perform his ease, his casualness, the lack of challenge in fighting her. Where the flat of his blade had stung, she throbbed. "Good showing. How about best of three?

The Journey after the End It was an era of monsters and demon Where villages burned, with echoes of cry Eyes filled with darkness, voices filled with sermon Pain and suffering was neigh A party of heroes swept the ashes, took an oath With swords and sheath and prayer and sorcery They faced the satan, filled with might and loath All with firm resolve and unwavering chivalry The heroes survived, the peace arrived Everyone promised, a last reunion plan was made With everyone on and up, they went with their life swayed Though they said their goodbyes and died The elven mage was all but left behind She continued her travels along the river of time Forging new bonds, while breaking some She had come far away, yet she weeps sometime For the epoch is cruel, as how it reminds her of the telltales and glum

From now on, he was going to wear his leather armor whenever he was around Essie’s overly exuberant brothers.

You’re going to be a great dacha. I’ll be that crazy mother that manages to embarrass her children all the time. And this child—and any other children we might have—will always know he or she is loved.

Troll, elf, human. The differences were only superficial, in the end. At their heart, they were all simply people. With a heart, a soul, a mind. Those were the important things, not the surface appearance.

Other Books written by Daniel Schinhofen: Binding Words: Morrigan's Bidding Life Bonds Hearthglen Forged Bonds Flame of War Aether’s Revival: Aether's Blessing Aether's Guard Luck’s Voice: Suited for Luck Cashing In Apocalypse Gates Author’s Cut: Rapture Valley of Death Gearing Up Elven Accord Downtime and Death Can of Worms Unexpected Dev-elopments Alpha World: (Completed.) Gamer for Life Forming the Company Alpha Company Playing for Keeps Fractured Spirit The Path to Peace Darkhand Gamer For Love Last Horizon: (Completed.) Last Horizon Omnibus NPC’s Lives: (Hiatus) Tales from the Dead Man Inn Resurrection Quest: (Hiatus) Greenways Goblins

You should be thanking me, Vriska. The way that animal was looking at you…he was getting ideas about…” Vriska barely heard his next, crude words. She had resisted, punching him before, but now he had gone too far. She could take the insults to her self. but Julian was a good, honorable man. He didn’t deserve to be so slandered. She shoved past Rharreth, pass the Warriors holding Brathac, and slam the punch as hard as she could into his already broken nose, savoring the grinding of bone beneath her fist. Brathac howled, his head snapping back. “What makes you think I don’t welcome his attentions? That human prince has more honor in a drop of his blood than you have in your whole body.” Vriska cocked her fist back to throw another punch. Someone grabbed her, yanking her arm around before she could land the second punch.

Kingship was founded upon the ideal that all people were adherents of the earth, and that the earth bestowed sovereignty upon its first born people, the Elven Tribes. They were represented by a Dragon Queen, and she empowered the Grail King, who could not be a king without her. In this environment, the right to kingship emanated from the female, since Mother Earth was herself deemed to be female. The overriding function of a king and queen was to maintain a spiritually transcendent intelligence within the realm, thereby enabling the organism (the kingdom) to function and develop in symbiosis with its surrounding environment.

The tenets of the Grail and Dragon traditions are implicit in defining that we should be at one with the earth, and cannot, therefore, presume dominion over it. Unlike those who wish to profit unjustifiably from dubious Merovingian descent. This philosophy is embedded in the concept of individual gnosis, and lies at the very heart of the Draconian culture. It is evident in all aspects of life itself. Emanating from the ancient lore of the Elven Lords and Ladies of the Forest, this ancestral legacy forms the bedrock upon which this and all legitimately related Dragon Courts were originally founded.

It’s just ached a bit, wondering if he would find that himself. Worse, he knew himself. He would fall in love with his troll bride. He would give her his heart for the simple reason that she was his wife, he would choose to love her, and his heart thus belonged to her.

Tarot: Little White Book: "Galadriel, the Elven queen, reflects the wisdom, foresight, and mystical power of the High Priestess. She offers guidance and insight to those who seek her, embodying the archetype of the spiritual guide and protector.

Galadriel, the Elven queen, reflects the wisdom, foresight, and mystical power of the High Priestess. She offers guidance and insight to those who seek her, embodying the archetype of the spiritual guide and protector.

At length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins.