Galadriel
@lady-of-the-light.bsky.social
Commander of the Northern Armies, Lady of Light, Alatáriel, Artanis, etc. TROP-ish canon.
You have not seen what I have seen.
(RP account, of course✨)
You have not seen what I have seen.
(RP account, of course✨)
Colors: The autumnal forest is awash with life. Galadriel feels keenly every note of it, Nenya humming along with every breath. In the ground she plants a tree, a gift from the waves. Green and silver leaves wreath the sapling, but many shift into gold. They are bright the colors, filled with hope.
November 24, 2025 at 2:16 AM
Colors: The autumnal forest is awash with life. Galadriel feels keenly every note of it, Nenya humming along with every breath. In the ground she plants a tree, a gift from the waves. Green and silver leaves wreath the sapling, but many shift into gold. They are bright the colors, filled with hope.
Relic: There are more relics in Galadriel’s life than she would wish for. In her hands, the phantom of her brother’s blade. In a chest, locked away, a pouch bearing the seal of a dead man she never, in the end, met at all. And somewhere, in a room for two abandoned, a different ring gathers dust.
November 24, 2025 at 2:03 AM
Relic: There are more relics in Galadriel’s life than she would wish for. In her hands, the phantom of her brother’s blade. In a chest, locked away, a pouch bearing the seal of a dead man she never, in the end, met at all. And somewhere, in a room for two abandoned, a different ring gathers dust.
OOC: A very Adariel day at the Christmas markets ✨🖤
November 22, 2025 at 6:59 PM
OOC: A very Adariel day at the Christmas markets ✨🖤
12. Brotherhood. Survival forged a brotherhood amongst survivors. The elves that live now in Rivendell, the that fled a sinking city, and, though she could never have envisioned it not so long ago, the Uruk who seek peace. Evil does not sleep, it waits. But good sleeps not either, it swells.
November 12, 2025 at 2:37 AM
12. Brotherhood. Survival forged a brotherhood amongst survivors. The elves that live now in Rivendell, the that fled a sinking city, and, though she could never have envisioned it not so long ago, the Uruk who seek peace. Evil does not sleep, it waits. But good sleeps not either, it swells.
The candles are low and their firelight dances in the breeze. Galadriel is, this night, dressed in starlight. Nenya whispers in her ear, and in her fëa the murmur of those who have passed is loud.
October 31, 2025 at 10:07 PM
The candles are low and their firelight dances in the breeze. Galadriel is, this night, dressed in starlight. Nenya whispers in her ear, and in her fëa the murmur of those who have passed is loud.
Sting: “This will sting.” She cautions, her voice terse though her fingers are gentle as they press along raw edges of skin seeping black. The corner of his mouth curves up at the words, bleakly amused in the way she likes least. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺.
But this one, she vows, will heal.
But this one, she vows, will heal.
October 26, 2025 at 3:19 AM
Sting: “This will sting.” She cautions, her voice terse though her fingers are gentle as they press along raw edges of skin seeping black. The corner of his mouth curves up at the words, bleakly amused in the way she likes least. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺.
But this one, she vows, will heal.
But this one, she vows, will heal.
Vessel—In her resting state, in visions behind her eyes, she takes his hand in hers, allows a crown of metal so frozen it burns to be set upon her head. She becomes a vessel for power. Great, she becomes, Terrible. The Valar themselves on their knees. She awakens—uncertain if from dream or nightmare
October 26, 2025 at 3:02 AM
Vessel—In her resting state, in visions behind her eyes, she takes his hand in hers, allows a crown of metal so frozen it burns to be set upon her head. She becomes a vessel for power. Great, she becomes, Terrible. The Valar themselves on their knees. She awakens—uncertain if from dream or nightmare
Fall: The crisp air of autumn flushes her cheeks, the trees of the forest brushed with dark gold. In memories that never were, they sit together, fingers entwined, as the leaves fall silent from their branches, float gracefully all around them. Her cheeks are cold, but the hand upon hers is warm.
October 26, 2025 at 12:49 AM
Fall: The crisp air of autumn flushes her cheeks, the trees of the forest brushed with dark gold. In memories that never were, they sit together, fingers entwined, as the leaves fall silent from their branches, float gracefully all around them. Her cheeks are cold, but the hand upon hers is warm.
Rings: Nenya is a creation of many makers. Gold of Valinor. Mithril of the Dwarves. Celebrimbor’s craft. The low murmur of Adar. The summer song of Elrond. Her own trills of light. Perhaps, she knows He has fingerprints there as well. The ring whispers of them all in her ear, ever-present.
October 26, 2025 at 12:20 AM
Rings: Nenya is a creation of many makers. Gold of Valinor. Mithril of the Dwarves. Celebrimbor’s craft. The low murmur of Adar. The summer song of Elrond. Her own trills of light. Perhaps, she knows He has fingerprints there as well. The ring whispers of them all in her ear, ever-present.
The whisper of trees…
October 26, 2025 at 12:07 AM
The whisper of trees…
Volcano: True creation requires sacrifice. This is a lesson she has learned. There was sacrifice here—of many kinds. But veins of molten stone pour the heat of a new sun into these lands, the ash a bringer of hearth and home. Sacrifice, yes, but—she has come to understand—creation, too.
October 25, 2025 at 11:44 PM
Volcano: True creation requires sacrifice. This is a lesson she has learned. There was sacrifice here—of many kinds. But veins of molten stone pour the heat of a new sun into these lands, the ash a bringer of hearth and home. Sacrifice, yes, but—she has come to understand—creation, too.
Ósanwë: The door is shut. She has slammed it, latched the lock, dropped the key into the depths. But, now and again, drifting in the outer corners of her awareness, the light slipping through the cracks distorts, shadow moving on the other side. She reaches out a hand, draws it back.
#Tolkientober
#Tolkientober
October 8, 2025 at 3:14 AM
Ósanwë: The door is shut. She has slammed it, latched the lock, dropped the key into the depths. But, now and again, drifting in the outer corners of her awareness, the light slipping through the cracks distorts, shadow moving on the other side. She reaches out a hand, draws it back.
#Tolkientober
#Tolkientober
Seafarers: The song of the sea whispers in her heart, a never-ending call. They are not seafarers, the elves, but the foam of the tides whispers of home. Once she lived across the ocean. And yet in this land she has been born anew, once, twice, again. The ocean calls, but roots sink into the earth.
October 7, 2025 at 5:09 AM
Seafarers: The song of the sea whispers in her heart, a never-ending call. They are not seafarers, the elves, but the foam of the tides whispers of home. Once she lived across the ocean. And yet in this land she has been born anew, once, twice, again. The ocean calls, but roots sink into the earth.
Encountered a few messengers of the forest not too long ago.
October 6, 2025 at 3:50 AM
Encountered a few messengers of the forest not too long ago.
Hope: Adar extends the ring to her on his palm and her fingers close over it, brushing his skin, the dancing light of his fëa, stirred to the surface, but always, she understands now, present, and hers, tested in its own way, and the ring between them, a promise. A lasting peace. A lasting hope.
October 6, 2025 at 12:01 AM
Hope: Adar extends the ring to her on his palm and her fingers close over it, brushing his skin, the dancing light of his fëa, stirred to the surface, but always, she understands now, present, and hers, tested in its own way, and the ring between them, a promise. A lasting peace. A lasting hope.
Armor: Elrond exchanges his robes for armor, and she finds she does not very much like the shift. Not so long ago, she had accused him of playing courtier, of not knowing evil as she has known it. But she does not, in the end, wish for him to. A sword in his hand where a pen should be.
#Tolkientober
#Tolkientober
October 5, 2025 at 11:46 PM
Armor: Elrond exchanges his robes for armor, and she finds she does not very much like the shift. Not so long ago, she had accused him of playing courtier, of not knowing evil as she has known it. But she does not, in the end, wish for him to. A sword in his hand where a pen should be.
#Tolkientober
#Tolkientober
Crown:
Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.
Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.
October 5, 2025 at 11:37 PM
Crown:
Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.
Morgoth’s crown sears darkness as it cuts through skin, through flesh, through spirit. Pain floods her; the traditional kind, an agony of body, and the kind beyond that, a meeting of the fëa with its exact opposite. It seeps into the light, leaving what it touches—Tortured. Twisted. Ruined.
Gardens:
The scent of flowers floating on the wind awakens memories long-buried by ash, dust, sand—blood. Her hair had caught the golden light of the lanterns as she’d spun and laughed. A garden. A glade. She’d been dancing. And there had been the scent of flowers on the wind.
#Tolkientober
The scent of flowers floating on the wind awakens memories long-buried by ash, dust, sand—blood. Her hair had caught the golden light of the lanterns as she’d spun and laughed. A garden. A glade. She’d been dancing. And there had been the scent of flowers on the wind.
#Tolkientober
October 5, 2025 at 11:25 PM
Gardens:
The scent of flowers floating on the wind awakens memories long-buried by ash, dust, sand—blood. Her hair had caught the golden light of the lanterns as she’d spun and laughed. A garden. A glade. She’d been dancing. And there had been the scent of flowers on the wind.
#Tolkientober
The scent of flowers floating on the wind awakens memories long-buried by ash, dust, sand—blood. Her hair had caught the golden light of the lanterns as she’d spun and laughed. A garden. A glade. She’d been dancing. And there had been the scent of flowers on the wind.
#Tolkientober
Creation: The ring on her finger whispers as it slips back into place—a quiet, tinkling murmur, like the hush of a river. Nenya, a creation made to save her kind, perhaps his, all kinds of Middle-earth. Visions of peace dance for the first time in her mind. That too, a creation entirely new.
October 5, 2025 at 11:18 PM
Creation: The ring on her finger whispers as it slips back into place—a quiet, tinkling murmur, like the hush of a river. Nenya, a creation made to save her kind, perhaps his, all kinds of Middle-earth. Visions of peace dance for the first time in her mind. That too, a creation entirely new.
OOC: Chappell said FUCK YOU, SAURON!! In your fake Gucci sweater.
October 5, 2025 at 11:11 PM
OOC: Chappell said FUCK YOU, SAURON!! In your fake Gucci sweater.
My gown became unfortunately stained with, ehm, stains, but I think it even more beautiful now.
September 23, 2025 at 4:29 AM
My gown became unfortunately stained with, ehm, stains, but I think it even more beautiful now.
Well, as I settle in…
September 21, 2025 at 8:11 AM
Well, as I settle in…
OOC: Went on a trip down memory lane and recalled this; Sauron/Adar | Look What You Made Me Do
September 17, 2025 at 4:46 AM
OOC: Went on a trip down memory lane and recalled this; Sauron/Adar | Look What You Made Me Do
Some golds and greens for coming spring ✨
March 11, 2025 at 5:23 AM
Some golds and greens for coming spring ✨
Post a picture of you that’s not actually a picture of you
March 3, 2025 at 3:43 AM
Post a picture of you that’s not actually a picture of you