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Флешмоб

Взято у  Злобный Гоблин.

Каждому, кто отпишется в коментариях:

1. Скажу, почему я тебя внес в список своих друзей (или почему я тебя читаю)
2. Скажу, какая песня/фильм напоминают мне о вас.
3. Расскажу свое первое воспоминание о вас.
4. Скажу, какое животное вы мне напоминаете.
5. Спрошу вас что-то, что всегда хотел знать о вас.
6. Если я это сделаю - вы должны запостить этот опрос в своем дневнике.
7. Вставлю картинку, которая ассоциируется у меня с вами

@темы: друзья, Флэшмоб

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Большая просьба.

Чтобы мне лишний раз не разочаровываться в жизни , буду делать анонсы тех рассказов, которые планирую переводить.
С целью – если кто-то знает, что этот рассказ уже переведен – напишите, пожалуйста!
Тогда я не буду его переводить.

Мои планы на ближайшее время:

1. Сын пламени, дочь сумерек. (Son of Flame, Daughter of Twilight)
Автор: Lalwen
Рейтинг: PG-13
Персонажи: Маэдрос/Лютиэнь.

2. Название: Свет звезд. (Starlight)
Автор: Tyellas, [email protected]
Рейтинг: R, НЕ СЛЭШ.
Персонажи: Элронд, Эрестор, Маглор, Маэдрос, ОМП и ОМЖ.
Краткое содержание: Оказавшемуся в числе часовых в лагере Маэдроса и Маглора, юному Элронду пришлось пережить богатую событиями ночь. И задать себе ряд непростых вопросов по поводу беглецов из Ангбанда, воинской чести и идеалов Лишенного наследия Дома нолдор.

3. Название: (Тройное?) испытание (для) чести. (Thrice for Honour)
Автор: Tyellas, [email protected]
Рейтинг: NC-17
Персонажи: Элронд/Маэдрос, упоминается Фингон/Маэдрос, Маэдрос/Родендил (ОМП).
Предупреждения: СЛЭШ, БДСМ (не принуждение).
Краткое содержание: Молодой Элронд пытается разобраться в себе и проходит инициацию методом «анасерэга».

4. Название: "Alive" and "Broken" (драбблы)
Автор: Thuriniel
Рейтинг: NC-17
Персонажи: Берен и Лютиэнь, Феанор и Нерданель.

5. Название: Братья. (Brothers)
Автор: Tinni
Рейтинг: G
Персонажи: Феанор, Финарфин.
Краткое содержание: Разговор Феанора и маленького Финарфина.

6. Название: Жена Финве. (The Wife of Finwë )
Автор: Ice Lady
Рейтинг: PG-13
Предупреждение: Fem-СЛЭШ
Персонажи: Индис/Мириэль
Краткое содержание: В день свадьбы с Финве Индис ожидает необычная встреча…

@темы: Только для взрослых, Стэб, Толкин, Перевод, друзья, Слэш

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Оригинал фанфика "Раковина" (Seashell) от Noldoris

Seashell.

Author: Noldoris

Silmarillion

G - English - General/Drama


Disclaimer: J R R Tolkien and his estate own these characters and their (real)
stories. Borrowing them sans permission is fun, but I do not intend to be
prosecuted for it. So please, sirs, know ye the truth etc.


Seashell.



It was with difficulty that he quelled his mounting horror to speak. “Maglor.”

His voice sounded faint in his own ears, like a whisper against the crashing of
the sea. “Maglor,” he heard himself say again.

Maglor continued to stare ahead. He spoke to him once more, louder and a little
anxious, but loath somehow to touch him. Then a soft uncertain sound, that may
have been ‘what?’ or ‘who?’, or something else altogether, slipped from the
elf’s lips.

“It’s me, Elros,” he called back, relieved.

The elf raised his dark head above his tattered garments. His blind eyes did not
turn from the sea, but he smiled. It was the simple, empty smile of a child.

“Elros?” he called brightly. The young man’s heart rose, for the voice was the
voice of Maglor, undiminished in beauty and strength, steadfast when all other
light had seemingly fled from eye and mind.

Hearing his name so spoken stirred strange feelings in him. He was surprised at
the rising of a faded memory of his mother, calling for him through the old
house in Sirion. It was a searching, motherly tone, coming to him in echoes, a
voice he could not put a face to. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he
said feelingly to Maglor.

The elf blinked, still smiling delightedly. “Elros? Is that you?”

“Yes, Ata, it is I. I came to see you.”

“You came to see - me. Good, good. I cannot see you, though - I have lost my
sight. The light was too bright, you know. Is it still so?”

“Still what?” asked Elros aghast, distracted by the sorry figure he had sought
so hard and long on the rocky shores. He could hardly recognise him.

“Is it still too bright? You must shade your eyes, you know, yonya. Young ones
like you must be careful. Like Elrond. Elrond is always careful. He is wiser
than even I, is he not? I always said so to Maitimo - when he would listen to
me.” He stopped, his brow furrowed, descending into a half-hearted humming. Then
he said sadly, “Do not quarrel with your brother, Elros. It is not a happy
thing.”

“No, Ata, I will not.” Elros said, and felt an immediate guilt at the tightness
in his voice.

“Do you promise me?” Maglor pressed on, suddenly stern. It was strange, an
abrupt change in his mood. He did not seem mad anymore. “I promise”, said Elros
earnestly. “Elrond and I will never fight. Trust you me? Now listen. I have news
– hearken here, my Maglor!”

Maglor had subsided, although something in the empty eyes shone briefly. His
child’s grin crept back on his face. “Good, good.” he chuckled, picking at his
sleeve. “Good, good.” He began to hum again, seeming to have lost all notion of
his son’s presence. Elros frowned. He moved a firm hand to grasp the pale
fingers, to see if he could hold Maglor’s attention by doing so, but was checked
by a sudden escalation in the mindless humming, which became something quite
different. It rose in tone and timbre.

And then, without warning, it soared in wordless magnificence to the farthest
reaches of heaven. It wheeled up, like a mighty storm breaking its bounds. It
brimmed over and then overflowed, high and sweet, with a surprising, staggering
joy. Elros was thrown off balance. Disoriented, he remembered the tales this
very man, once sane and clear-eyed, had told him - of the music of the spheres,
bright stars that hummed as they moved along their course, of the Song that
created the world in its joy of being sung. It could not have been much
different from this, he thought, the song of the greatest of bards, sufficient
unto himself. Perhaps a new star was being born this very moment.

He sat mutely at Maglor’s side as the song went on, for a long while. When it
ended, its echoes mingled in his head along with the now-faraway cries of the
gulls and the lapping of the ocean. Something that had not happened since he had
declared his fate to the Valar happened now; he felt helpless with awe.

Maglor had fallen silent. He appeared to have resumed his unblinking vigil of
the Western Sea.

“I’m leaving, Ata,” Elros said at last, in a rush. He could not find better
words, and choked on them almost before they were out.

Maglor replied slowly, as though he had had difficulty understanding. “So you
are,” he said. “Of course. Of course. You must go. It is a place of great beauty
and peace. Yes, beautiful. Of course. Well... ”. And he drifted off
incomprehensibly again.

“I am not going to Aman,” said Elros gently. “Listen. I have a tale to tell
you.”

He explained with infinite patience of his summons to the Valar, the choice he
had been presented with, his final decision, and that of Elrond’s. “You see, it
would be improvident of me to choose a way I do not wish. I hanker not after
everlasting life, nor yet the promise of Valinor. I cannot rest from travel. I
would walk, and sail, see all things, and know all things good and evil. And
when I die, Ata, it will be with a full heart, knowing I have spent in whole the
flame of the One; in sorrow, perhaps, but not despair, and never emptiness.
And…and I am sailing from these shores. The Valar in their glory – ”

“You are going to sea?” Maglor interrupted for the first time.

“Yes.” Elros smiled. “Yes, I am going to sea.” He laughed boyishly. “My
adventure, Ata! I am going to seek a new land; do you remember how I had told
you I would? The sailor is shipping off, at last!”

Maglor turned fully in his direction, as if seeking to imprint some trace of his
features on his darkened eyes. Then something seemed to occur to him.

“Sea?” he asked. “This sea?”

“Yes.”

His smile vanished. “You do know what lives there, don’t you?” he asked, his
voice lowered conspiratorially.

“What?” asked Elros, confused.

“Well, you are going to seek it, are you not? The light, of course! Our jewel.
Have the Valar not granted you it? One for Eдrendil, one for Elros, one for
Elrond. And whom else would it be for? They are all gone anyway, my brothers,
and I have no use for it. I never did. But be thankful they have all sailed
away, little one. They were mighty warriors, and so proud, Maitimo and Tyelkormo
and Atarinkл and Carnistir…”

Elros’ heart sank. Did he really believe they had all simply upped and left? He
cleared his throat. “Not jewels, Ata, land. Land! Think, they raised earth from
the sea and hallowed it for my kindred. We of the Atani have a true home now, as
the Quendi have had. We have been blessed by the Valar.”

“Atani?” Maglor whispered. Elros sighed, defeated. “Yes, Ata. I told you, I was
given a choice. And I chose to become a Man.”

Maglor’s face contorted. Elros thought he was angered at last. He felt his robe
being grabbed, and he was pulled in by a strong hand, until his face was just
level with that of his foster father.

“Thank Eru.” the elf rasped harshly. “Thank Eru. From elda to atan. You did the
right thing, Elros. I am glad, do you hear? Glad that you cast off the other
thing! It is terrible, Elros, so terrible, never free. Never free from grief and
madness. You would go mad. Poor Elrond. Poor Elrond.”

Elros felt a great destructive wave crash into him. Beside him, Maglor was
weeping silently, great tears spilling from his eyes. He was mortified at the
sight. A noble elda warrior, a prince of the Calaquendi, and it had come to
this. What remained with him save a fragile form, glazed like a white seashell
and just as easily crushed?

Like a seashell, he held only the voice of the waters.

An irrational vision came to him, unbidden. A spear pierced through the
emaciated body, and the grey-green ocean gushing forth from within. Elros
cringed. How morbid the eve had made him.

He heard a shuddering breath expelled from the other. A sudden, fierce love
welled up in him. “Come with me,” he begged urgently. “Please, Ata, will you
not? See here, it is I who need you. For my sake, not yours, do not stay away.
It would break my heart. I pray you – Ata Maglor, hear me!”

He shook his head mutely.

“Why not?” he demanded stubbornly. Maglor had taken to humming again. “Maglor!”
he said in his most commanding tone. The elf fell silent.

“Why can you not come with me?”

“Because I – I cannot cross the Sea. I would drown. You would drown. I am not
coming to Valinor!”

No amount of persuasion would convince him that he would not doom the voyage of
the Atani fleet to death, or that they were not, indeed, going to Valinor, that
they never would in all the lives of men. “Very well,” said Elros finally, weary
and close to tears. “If you would rob me of my father, do so. I, at least, shall
never forget you.”

He said this and left, without looking back, trembling with anger and shame.
Maglor continued to watch the shore, shimmering faintly in the starlight. He had
begun to hum.


**


Never did father and son meet again in this world, for Elros sailed to newfound
Nъmenor and came no more to the shores of Middle-earth. Maglor’s fate is unknown
among the Elves, for he did not go among them. Whether in a distant future,
someone of the children of Elros came seeking the singer again to make new an
old tie, we do not know. It is unwritten.




-----
Quenya translations.

elda: Sing. form of Eldar. Elf, basically.
atan: Man.
yonya: My son.

Quick note on the names bandied abоut: they are the mother-names of four of
Maglor’s brothers. Maitimo is Maedhros, Tyelkormo is Celegorm, Atarinkл is
Curufin and Carnistir is Caranthir. Quenya, all.

@темы: Толкин, друзья

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Видимо, осеннее настроение заразительно...

Большая часть народа куда-то попряталась... Зубрят наверное.
Моя бета тоже не звонит, не пишет...
А у меня уже три перевода готовы, но не отбечены....

Зато на следующей неделе я иду к подруге на Юбилей - ей исполнится 25 лет!
Отмечать будем в сауне - после работы - парок, бассейн и "праздник живота" (а у нас в России без этого никак) - это то, что надо!

@темы: друзья, Я

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Выкладываю этот фанфик для Третьего.

История любви Финголфина и Маэдроса, начавшаяся еще тогда, когда Маэдрос в люльке лежал.
На английском. Оригинал из Сети был удален.
Страница автора - www.fanfiction.net/u/219714/Klose

The Ties That Bind
by Klose

Rating: PG-13 (WARNING for homosexual, incestuous themes, and child/adult (sort of) relationships, but nothing explicit)

Disclaimer: I bow down to the great master that is J.R.R Tolkien. I play only with his wonderful creations.

Feedback: I shed my last bit of dignity by going down on my knees and begging for it.

Dedication: For Finch, one of the few adults I truly respect and admire, and Le Chat Noir, whose genius just blows me away. This isn't an answer to your respective challenges, and for that I apologise, but come on, you guys inspired this! In any case, belated birthday wishes to the both of you!

Author's Note: I am tempted to insert here a long pretentious author's note, but I will spare you, the reader from my long-windedness. If you curious about the origins of this fic, however, I've posted about it here, you can read it once you're done with this chapter:

An acknowoledgement to the various sources this fic drew from for inspiration: Deborah's A Very Fire, Lipstick's Maedhros/Fingon ficlets on her LiveJournal, Le Chat Noir's Of Iron and Steel and of course, Finch's Under the Curse.

This is actually the prelude to Fingon/Maedhros; but the main characters in this fic will be Fingolfin and Maedhros. ^^

Many thanks to Mouse for her much appreciated help (and encouragement!), LeGrace for expert proof-reading, and of course, Evangilist for tolerating my ramblings on this concept.

One last note: As much as we all detest switchy POVs (myself included), I've actually used them as a plot device. Each chapter will be narrated by Fingolfin and Maedhros consecutively, and the switch will be marked by a line break.

-------------------------------

Chapter One: Bitter As Blood

When I was yet young, there was a time when my elder half-brother visited our family. I had never known what to think of Fлanбro, for I had seen him but a few times as far as I could remember. He lived with his wife apart from my parents and I and rarely visited, save for special (and rare) occasions.

This time, he had brought his wife with him. She was fair, as they went, with strange red hair. But her face was kind as she smiled at me, and she did not seem so strange anymore. Even Fлanбro seemed happy - proud, even - and he presented my - our - father with a small bundle, nodding curtly at my mother as he did so.

My father smiled too and spoke, but I did not listen to what he was saying. Then he called to me, and I went to him, curious. I saw the bundle in his arms held a baby. I had only seen such a small thing once before, when my brother was still a mere babe, but even he was not as fair as this one. Its cheeks were pink, it could not have been born for more than a few days; and peace was upon its face as it slept soundly. It was a beautiful baby. I reached out to touch it, caressing the soft white skin, the tuft of silky red hair.

"This is your nephew, Nolofinwл," father told me. "His name is Maitimo."

"Maitimo," I echoed, and continued to look at the baby in fascination. I nearly cried out when the child was taken away by large hands, calloused hands, hands I had long associated with Fлanбro the Craftsman, but my father's hand came to rest on my back, calming me, as Fлanбro took back his child. He looked at me strangely, almost suspiciously. His wife looked at him pointedly, as if she were silently telling him something, and his exprеssion softened.

"Brother mine." I marvelled to hear him address me such, for though I called him brother, he would not use my name in the rare moments that he spoke to me, calling me simply 'boy'.

"If you wish to visit your nephew," he continued, "You are more than welcome in our home."

My heart skipped a beat, and I nodded vigorously in acknowledgement.

"What do you say, Nolofinwл?" father asked; and I stammered my thanks to my brother.

With a nod, he stood, and left with his wife and child, bidding us farewell. I saw them off, standing on my toes to look at the baby once more.

"Well, Nolofinwл," came my father's voice, and I looked up at him. "What do you say of your young nephew?"

"He is a beautiful child," I said softly.

Father laughed a little. "That he is. His name does mean well-formed one, after all."

"T'is truly a fitting name," I replied, slightly sleepily this time, for exhaustion had crept upon me. Saying good night to my father, I retired to my room.

Though I was tired, I had difficulty falling asleep. My mind kept the image of the redheaded child, and I tossed and turned in discomfort. Finally, sleep overcame me, but the dreams I descended into were greatly troubled. Dark fire, fell fire, burning in the night. Two bodies, intertwined, spirits conjoined; both aflame with passion.

Well-formed one...

I awoke with a jerk. My chest ached. I wanted to see Maitimo once more. I went to visit him the next day, succumbing to the pull at my heartstrings, the longing within me.

I received my brother's hard stares with a guilty conscience. Though we lived in the Blessed Realm, we lived also in Arda Marred. I first saw my nephew as babe, and if my feelings were true, I was stained worse than I had thought.

I did not know if Fлanбro saw the darkness within me, but he must have, for I saw the darkness within him, though that is another story.

It was a wound in my heart, the guilt, the love. For when my nephew looked up at me with an innocent smile, it was with admiration and adoration, love of a pure form.

I closed my eyes, and looked away. I would have liked to believe that I was doing naught wrong, but it was really the desires of the flesh that were stronger than the voices of reason of my mind and heart. In the end, the innocent are those who are the victims.


*


It would be a lie to say that as a child, I was often alone, for I was visited frequently, though my father did not know, for his time in the forge increased by the day. Still, it was better that he did not know, for it would not have pleased him well.

I did not realise the social nature of my relationship with my uncle till I was much older, but I do not think I will ever understand the true nature of our relationship, either, for it is not like that I have with Arafinwл, it is not black or white.

But I enjoyed my time spent with Nolofinwл. He was older than me, yea, but it did not bother me. They call me mellow, but I was restless, and he only could calm me, for he was like ice to my fire.[1]

At a time, we had disappeared into the forest behind my home, and in my recklessness, I had called him to a race. I was ahead, but I was also careless, and tripped on a stray root. Though the pain in my ankles was unbearable, the blood that came from my nose and mouth bothered me more.

"Maitimo," he had called and I had looked up to see his eyes filled with worry. "You must learn to move with less haste," he told me, removing me boot. The flesh underneath was bruised, but worse, the bone appeared to be awkwardly set.

"It does not hurt," I said through gritted teeth, for it did not, not really. It was a numb sort of pain. I put my hand to my mouth, for it hurt more there, and it came away soaked in sticky, crimson fluid. Nolofinwл touched my jaw in concern, and tasted the blood that still trickled from the wound and stained his fingers.

"What does it taste like?" I asked in morbid fascination.

"Sweet... yet bitter."

"Bittersweet?"

"Somewhat," he looked away and returned to tending to my ankle.

Bittersweet. With that word echoing in my mind, I started to think about what it meant. Back then; I was innocent, as was my love also, but I do not think it was the same for Nolofinwл. He probably did not think likewise, either, for he would often appear distant when he was with me, as if he were deep in thought, and I never failed to see a tinge of regret in his eyes.


[1]A sort of 'reference' to Deborah's 'Fire and Ice', in which she made the comparison between Feanor and Fingolfin, one which was too good for me to pass up on. Sorry, Deborah!


TBC, if the birthday girls wish it so. They are allowed, alternatively, to tie a noose around my neck and murder me for this blasphemy.

@темы: Толкин, друзья, Слэш

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А я в отпуске! Завидно, правда?

Учитывая, что это мой первый отпуск, который я могу посвятить себе любимой, а не сессии. Моему счастью просто нет предела!
Для начала решила изменить дизайн (что с меня, с женщины, взять?).
На картинке - Лютиэнь Тинголовна.
Третий - не ной и не обижайся - я все понимаю! Просто в Профиле написать забыла - что вредность у меня повышенная!

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Болею. Пофигизмом. Или депрессией.

Маета какая-то. Тело превратилось в полуаморфную массу, растекшуюся на диване перед телевизором, способную лишь есть, спать да еще лежать в ванной. На команды мозга, что пора собраться и приняться за работу - не реагирует...
Дайри глючат. Но всех своих дорогих ПЧ и Друзей я помню и люблю! Как только мысли соберутся в кучку - начну полноценно общаться.
Интернет в целом тоже не подарок. Уже неделю не могу скачать 2 и 3 часть манги для беченья про Леголаса - Сеть улетает на последних килобайтах.
Между делом – закончила перевод фанфика про Маэдроса/Лютиэнь. Отправила бете. Та ответила «1. Разностилица (ну, это мой вечный бич – согласна. Меня уже впору гладить словарем по голове за это). 2. Маэдрос – полный кретин» Вывод – «Надо все переделывать. Причем все его поступки. Начиная с первой главы. О, прямо с момента встречи с Лютиэнь!».
И это называется перевод…. У меня и без того от оригинала остались рожки да ножки.
Поэтому сижу – жду от нее предложений. За это время нашла еще два хороших фанфика – Маглор/Арвен и Финрод/Лютиэнь. Финрод к счастью вполне Толкиновский, а не «образ с иконы».
Хотя по мне – на месте Берена и Маэдрос станет придурком. Полным. Обязан. Хотя бы временно. От любви.
Еще от нечего делать и от полной душевной неустроенности читаю очерк Франка «О переселении душ».
Порадовали пифагорейцы.
Через очищение и аскезу люди могут подниматься в новых рождениях на высшие ступени бытия – рождаться ясновидцами, поэтами, врачами и, наконец, снова становиться богами.
То есть – те, кто есть среди вышеперечисленных - морально готовьтесь – вам в следующей жизни быть Богами. Если в этой жизни не напортачите. А то обидно будет.
Кстати, что мне понравилось – так отсутствие в этом «списке избранных пока-смертных» - царей, героев типа «сила есть, ума – не надо», «самка – моя», и всяких прочих мега-крутых Завоевателей и внебрачных детей богов. Обычно именно их многие восхваляли и возводили «выше всех живых».

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Печальная история о высоких. И низких людях.

Попса продолжает удивлять цветастыми оборотами. Обычно услышав очередной псевдопоэтический "вывих", я веселюсь. А вот сегодня прониклась сочувствием к певице, что прочувственно выдала:
"ЧЕМ ВЫШЕ ЛЮБОВЬ - ТЕМ НИЖЕ ПОЦЕЛУИ!"
Ну даже не знаю...
Пусть попробует на табуретку вставать.
Может так будет доставать туда, куда нужно...

@темы: Стэб, умные мысли

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Очередная додзи.

1-я часть пародийной додзинси на экранизацию "Властелина Колец" - "Tabi no nakama kaikoroku". Приключения принца Леголаса начинаются. ^_^

shoujo.ru/manga/00trans/doujinshi32.php

Весело!

@темы: Стэб, Толкин, Перевод, друзья

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Переделалось из старого анекдота.

Изгнание Феанора. Финве передает корону Финголфину во временное пользование. Феанор, мрачно сие созерцающий, оборачивается к жене, остающейся в Тирионе:
- Заведи кота, назови Финя. Вернусь - УБЬЮ!

@темы: Стэб, Толкин

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Додзинси от Сорако "Первая встреча Леголаса и Галадриэль"

Название: Первая встреча
Автор: Soraco
Сайт автора: kbg.mods.jp/lotr/gallery.html
Переводчик с японского: Lavender Prime
Обработка сканов: Александра Воронцова
Персонажи: Леголас, Галадриэль, Трандуил, Халдир
Рейтинг: G
Жанр: Humor
Разрешение на перевод: запрос отправлен
Содержание: Первая встреча Леголаса и Галадриэль

@темы: Стэб, Толкин, Галадриэль, Перевод, манга, Леголас

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Правдивая история про то как именно Феанор уговорил нолдоров уйти из Амана. Додзинси.

Поучаствовала в редактировании имен героев "Сильмариллион. Если найдете ошибки - шишки кидать в меня.
Огромное спасибо Frei и Каенс Бард за возможность увидеть сие произведение на русском языке, и за их огромные творческие планы. Заранее!

Японское название: Noldor Funs Book
Фэндом: Silmarillion
Автор: Mendou Kazuki / Hazuki Mayumi
(homepage2.nifty.com/waraizizou/)
Год выпуска: 2005
Перевод (с японского): Каенс Бард
Сканирование: yaoi_doujinshi (yaoi-doujinshi.livejournal.com/)
Редактор сканов: Frei
Состояние перевода: завершен
Бета: Александра Воронцова
Жанр: комедия
Описание: Правдивая история про то как именно Феанор уговорил нолдоров уйти из Амана в Средиземье. ^__^

Скачать додзинси можно по этому адресу:

shoujo.ru/manga/00trans/doujinshi47.php

@темы: Стэб, Толкин, Феанор и К, манга, друзья

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Я приобщилась к обществу Повелителей мира!

Вообще шутка старая. Но я решила обзаветись новым Сертификатом, а то вдруг старый стал недействительным из-за смены ника?



Приобщиться можно здесь.

www.thepr.ru/

@темы: Веселое, Я

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Doujinshi от Toriko

La Prime выложила в сообществе "Эльфийский фест" нашу новую совместную работу.
Это перевод небольшой манги Торико про феанорингов и их ближайшего родственника.
Все как обычно: La Prime- перевод с японского, графическая обработка - мое.
Смотреть здесь.

diary.ru/~elf-fest/?comments&postid=33962819

PS: Да. помню, обещала Сорако. Но в середине работы "покоцались" сканы - пришлось начинать заново. Ничего, скоро будет!

@темы: Стэб, Толкин, Перевод, друзья

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Кого из персонажей из книг Толкина я вам напоминаю?

Наверное, еще никого.
Но интересно.
А это ссылка на одну дискуссию - типы Феаноринго- и Арфинголюбов.
julia-monday.livejournal.com/39620.html
Ничего личного - просто весело. Может кто и себя узнает. Хотя не Толкиным единым...

@темы: Толкин, умные мысли, друзья

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Типа творческие планы.

Народ, извиняюсь, что так долго не появлялась! Но кто работает с документами - тот поймет, что такое ежемесячная Отчетность!
А еще я занималась:
1. Переводом фанфика про Маэдроса и Лютиэнь.
2. Переводом фанфика про Маэдроса и Моргота (NC-17)
3. Графической обработкой манги Сорако про встречу Леголаса и Галадриэль.

Coming soon, короче