The Meeting on the Turret Stairs feat. Fitzloved, as suggested by @thenightisland
Illustration for unpublished version : ' of J. R. R. Tolkien's :' The Hobbit' by Peter Klucik, 1990
fitzy sketches to start off my tawny man journey \o/
assassins quest finale i love you
A baby Fool for all your baby Fool needs
It’s decided, I can’t draw birds. It’s 3am and I gotta sleep~ So I’ll leave this half assed thing here for you.
Fool and Motley~
Lord Golden fashion study inspired by this image of a Blue-Rayed Metalmark 🦋
"In that last dance of chances
When I know you'll not be mine
I will let you go with longing
And the hope that you'll be fine."
/The latest pictures I drew while reading. It's hard for me to describe how mentally devastated I was. Yes, I'm not opposed to taking a break to read rw chronicles. The last picture is an attempt to figure out how Beloved looks in darker colors(brown as an appleseed🥺)
/And now, something else. In the translation to my native language, the poem sounded a little different and I decided to translate it back literally. This is the first version I read, and damn it, the dance of hope? There's no hope here. I really like this version, but damn it, how I cried.
The last dance is a dance of hope,
Fleeting, like a dream and smoke.
I will leave the hall, unable to watch,
How easily you spin with someone else.
The last dance is a dance of hope...
The weight of farewell is heavy.
May the other one, to whom you’ll go,
Return your wings.
The last dance is a dance of hope...
I’ll let you go without a word.
May the one who will take my place,
Give you love.
The last dance is a dance of hope...
The thread fades, breaks.
To know each other - and lose everything,
And live... and not live... not live.
Nighteyes
Malta, and Fitz and Myblack.
Blog to share my digital art created in Photoshop mostly for Realm of Elderlings but also other fantasy and sci-fi books and shows. I will also share some photography and possibly other tentative thoughts and fascinations when the fancy strikes me.Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. (William Shakespeare )
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