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‘The heart of Fëanor was fast bound to these things that he himself had made.’

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feanors-daughter​:

lachind​:

“I didn’t have to explain it when Nana did it! I don’t know how to explain it!” he sobbed, backing away from her touch even as she tried to be gentle. Nana never asked him to explain how to do his hair, only sometimes ask if he wanted something different — the answer was no, of course. Most of the time. And now she was gone, and no one could do it the same. 

“I hate you!” Though still entirely too young to understand hatred, Elros knew no better word to describe what he felt. Angry, maybe, but that wasn’t enough. 

“I don’ want you to t- touch my hair. Not until you can get it like Nana d- did…” 

“I can’t get it like your Nana did if you will not-” she stopped, rubbing at her temples as she took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no use getting frustrated, especially when it would likely just upset him more. It was not his fault, she knew, and her heart softened again as she looked back at the young child.

“How about this,” she began, offering Elros the brush and cords used to bind the hair. “Try to show me how you like your hair. It does not have to be perfect, but do your best and I will do my best to replicate it. You can try it with your own hair or you can use mine, if you wish.”

She offered a gentle smile. “Just give it a try - you don’t want your hair to be in your face all day, do you? How will you see anything? Elrond would beat you at all of your games.”

“Elrond already beats me at our games,” he whimpered, tucking his hair behind his ears. It was only partially true — but Elros didn’t care. It didn’t matter if his brother won their games, and Elrond insisted on spending most of his time locked in their room anyway. 

Elros wasn’t as scared of the Fëanorians anymore, but he certainly wouldn’t like them. 

“Don’t touch it. I don’t need it braided.”

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“While still in his early youth he wedded Nerdanel, the daughter of a great smith named Mahtan, among those of the Noldor most dear to Aulë; and of Mahtan he learned much of the making of things in metal and in stone. Nerdanel also was firm of will, but more patient than Fëanor, desiring to understand minds rather than to master them, and at first she restrained him when the fire of his heart grew too hot; but his later deeds grieved her, and they became estranged. Seven sons she bore to Fëanor; her mood she bequeathed in part to some of them, but not to all.” - Tolkien, J.R.R.. The Silmarillion (p. 56). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition. A little belated, portrait of Nerdanel with Fëanor. I absolutely love the two of them! Fëanor and Nerdanel wedded when they were both still young. Many were surprised by this, because Nerdanel was in fact not considered beautiful. As it is written “But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge. In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions in many journeys.” Kind of makes me want to do an entire series of just these two. As a challenge to myself I painted this without my usual textured brushes. It was supposed to be an exercise in representing forms with color and value only. I’m not upset with how it turned out, but it was definitely a challenge as things were turning out lifeless and rigid… I need a brush that’s a little more interesting than a smooth rectangle!

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“You know I’m no good at singing.” Still, he doesn’t want to argue. Not when Elrond is so clearly upset. And Elros cannot show his brother how upset he is. 

“What song do you want?” he asks, shifting to lean back against the headboard, and bring Elrond with him. Maybe a lullaby will calm him down, just long enough for the both of them to get some rest. Even if his voice is a far cry from either of their parents’. 

Elros forces himself to focus, and appear relaxed enough that his shaking stops — and in imitation of their mother, he starts stroking Elrond’s hair lightly, as she did whenever they had nightmares. And as their father did for her nightmares, when they thought their children were asleep. 

“I d- don’t remember all of them. Just a few of her favorites.” 

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“No, it doesn’t, b- but they — we don’t need to be scared anymore,” he whispers, trying to convince himself as much as Elrond. He is cautiously optimistic; he knows what the sons of Fëanor have done. But he wasn’t expecting to be spared, nor to find that Kanafinwë would treat them with such kindness. 

“J- just don’t want us to be scared anymore. I know they’re not… good. B- but we’re not in danger, Elrond…” 

“I don’t get to just choose when to be scared and when not to be.” His voice is raspy from disuse, for he still has not spoken since their capture except to Elros in private like this. He refuses to give Maglor the satisfaction of hearing him speak, lest he think he has earned Elrond’s trust. He’ll never have it, he promises himself silently. He’ll never have me.

Still, even when they disagree, Elros is the only loving constant in Elrond’s world, and he turns to lean against his brother, grasping at his nightshirt. He takes a shuddering breath, struggling to calm himself.

“S-sing one of Nana’s songs?”

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“And yet, they are as beautiful as the moment you picked them,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to her hair. Sitting down in the grass, Fëanor pulled Laurelin into his lap. 

“I love them, little one. Thank you.”

@feanors-daughter​ asked: [ flower ]  little lau for feanor || MEME

“What’s this?”

Fëanor glanced at his daughter, a soft smile on his face that grew when he realized what she held. Kneeling in front of her, he took the violet into his hand, and with the other pulled Laurelin close to his chest. 

“Look what you’ve found, selda! Shall we look for more?” 

[lachind]

Fëanor and his mother. 

Being that he was so young when Míriel died, he retains very few memories of her. He remembers how much he loved her, and he has faint recollection of being held and silver hair brushing his face and dimly sensing how utterly exhausted she felt, but his clearest memories involving Míriel are of the grief that followed her death. His own, and seeing Finwë’s. We know that grief for elves lasts longer than it can for humans, and that considered: Fëanor almost certainly spent more time grieving Míriel than he had with Míriel. 

Finwë, in the midst of his own grief, trying to comfort a bawling toddler with a heartache that no child in Valinor had ever felt before, and that he couldn’t even put words to yet. 

Fëanor’s dependence on Finwë really developed during this period. So the sense of betrayal he felt at Finwë and Indis’ wedding was overwhelming. I have Fëa as the equivalent of a preteen at the wedding, and he spent most of the time leading up to the day in denial, growing more and more anxious but assuring himself that his father could never go through with it. Because after witnessing his grief after Míriel, Fëanor could never comprehend how he could go on to do something that would ensure she’d never be allowed to return. 

He made the wedding day an absolute mess. Threw a fit and ran off in the middle of the ceremony, then stayed hidden away for the rest of the day, begging and begging Námo to release his mother now, before Finwë’s marriage to Indis actually became official. 

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jumpin on that Picrew train

Maglor ◦ Fëanor  ◦ Elros Sauron ◦ Borneth ◦ Iannor

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if i finally  o f f i c i a l l y  added curvo though who might be interested

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plotting call ! this did well on my other blog, and i really wanna get some threads going here so mutuals hit the ❤ and i’ll come to your I.M.’s and plot !

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[photo credit]

[lachind]

Maglor, Re-edit

I m very sorry for re-editing my ancients draw recently, the previous Maglor I did didn’t fit with my head canon I have of him, and since it’s my draw, it’s always very important for me that the characters looks, at least the most as possible, as how I imagine them in my head (and it’s actually very hard to process). Issue with the previous Maglor is I started to draw a random elf, and decided later « ok it will be Maglor » (I will avoid doing that in future 😅). But then, it started to disturbs me more and more especially since I plan to make other draw of Maglor, so, re do it is the best decision. So, this time, here is Maglor. In my head, he has rather wavy hair, just like his father.

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ROLEPLAY  PROMPTS          /          THE  SECRET  GARDEN  by  FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT   dialect has been  neutralised for ease of use. feel free to adapt pronouns/tenses/etc as required.

    ❛  alone  in  a  place  like  this !  ❜

    ❛  why  was  i  forgotten ?  ❜ 

    ❛  where  is  home ?  ❜ 

    ❛  children  alter  so  much .  ❜ 

    ❛  it  doesn’t  matter  whether  i  care  or  not .  ❜ 

    ❛  i  would  have  walked  the  world  over  just  to  get  you  the  blade  of  grass  you  wanted .  ❜ 

    ❛  it’s  a  wild ,   dreary  enough  place  to  my  mind ,   though  there’s  plenty  that  likes  it .  ❜

    ❛  i  don’t  like  it .   i  don’t  like  it .  ❜

    ❛  so  long  as  i  know  what’s  expected  of  me ,   i  can  manage .  ❜ 

    ❛  this  is  a  funny  house  for  all  it’s  so  grand .  ❜ 

    ❛  you  know  nothing  about  anything !  ❜ 

    ❛  he  won’t  let  no  one  go  inside .   he  locked  the  door  and  dug  a  hole  and  buried  the  key .  ❜ 

    ❛  people  never  like  me  and  i  never  like  people .  ❜ 

    ❛  i’m  lonely .   i  have  no  friends  at  all .   i  never  had .  ❜

    ❛  you  and  me  are  a  good  bit  alike .   we  were  wove  from  the  same  cloth .   both  of  us  are  as  sour  as  we  look .   we’ve  got  the  same  nasty  tempers .  ❜ 

    ❛  don’t  you  be  meddlesome  and  poke  your  nose  where  it’s  no  cause  to  go .  it’s  not  to  be  talked  about .   there’s  lots  of  things  in  this  place  that’s  not  to  be  talked  over .  ❜ 

    ❛  they  died .   the  doctors  thought  he’d  go  out  of  his  mind  and  die  too .  ❜ 

    ❛  do  you  hear  anyone  crying ?  ❜

    ❛  i  believe  i  have  taken  a  wrong  turning  again .  ❜

    ❛  how  still  everything  is .  ❜ 

    ❛  it’s  the  sunniest  place  on  earth  when  it  is  sunny ;   you’ll  want  to  get  out  on  it  at  sunrise  and  live  out  all  day .  ❜

    ❛  how  do  you  like  yourself ?  ❜ 

    ❛  do  you  think  he  remembers  me ?  ❜

    ❛  you  do  remember me !   you  do !  ❜

    ❛  you  are  prettier  than  anything  else  in  the  world .  ❜

    ❛  i’ve  brought  you  a  present .  ❜

    ❛  do  you  want  me  to  kiss  you ?  ❜ 

    ❛  there  is  no  one  to  talk  to  here  except  you .  ❜

    ❛  i  didn’t  know  you  were  so  nice .  ❜

    ❛  it’s  the  strangest  house  anyone  ever  lived  in .  ❜

    ❛  do  you  like  roses ?  ❜

    ❛  there’s  nothing  for  me  to  do .   i  have  nothing  and  no  one .  ❜

    ❛  could  you  keep  a  secret ,   if  i  told  you  one ?   it’s  a  great  secret .   i  don’t  know  what  i  should  do  if  anyone  found  it  out .  ❜

    ❛  nobody  has  any  right  to  take  it  from  me  when  i  care  about  it  and  they  don’t .  ❜   

    ❛  i’ll  come  every  day  if  you  want  me ,   rain  or  shine .  ❜

    ❛  i  know  you  think  i’m  a  strange  lad ,   but  i  think  you’re  the  strangest  little  lass  i’ve  ever  seen .  ❜ 

    ❛  if  you  were  a  mistle  thrush  and  showed  me  where  your  nest  was ,   do  you  think  i’d  tell  anyone ?   not  me.   you  are  as  safe  as  a  mistle  thrush .  ❜

    ❛  i  think -   i  think  he’s  beautiful .   i  like  his  turned  up  nose  and  i  like  his  eyes  so  round .   they  are  exactly  the  colour  of  the  sky  over  the  moor .   and  i  love  his  big  mouth ;   i  wish  mine  were  just  like  it !  ❜ 

    ❛  i  cannot  give  you  time  or  attention .   i  am  too  ill ,   and  wretched ,   and  distracted ;   but  I  wish  you  to  be  happy  and  comfortable .  ❜

    ❛  you  remind  me  of  someone  else  who  loved  the  earth  and  things  that  grow.   when  you  see  a  bit  of  earth  you  want ,   take  it  and  make  it  come  alive .  ❜

    on  a  written  note :   ‘ i  will  come  back . ’  

    ❛  who  are  you ?   are  you  a  ghost ?  ❜

    ❛  you  are  real ,   aren’t  you ?   i  have  such  real  dreams  very  often .   you  might  be  one  of  them .  ❜

    ❛  my  father  hates  to  think  i  might  be  like  him .  ❜

    ❛  she  is  my  mother .   i  don’t  see  why  she  died .   sometimes  i  hate  her  for  doing  it .  ❜

    ❛  don’t  let  us  talk  about  dying ;   i  don’t  like  it .   let  us  talk  about  living .  ❜

    ❛  why  does  it  make  you  angry  when  you  are  looked  at ?  ❜

    ❛  i  thought  you  were  a  ghost  or  a  dream .   you  can’t  bite  a  ghost  or  a  dream ,   and  if  you  scream  they  don’t  care .  ❜

    ❛  i’m  so  happy  i  can  scarcely  breathe !  ❜ 

    ❛  if  you  send __ away ,   i’ll  never  come  into  this  room  again .  ❜

    ❛  you  can’t  make  me  talk !   i’ll  sit  and  clench  my  teeth  and  never  tell  you  one  thing .   i  won’t  even  look  at  you .   i’ll  stare  at  the  floor !  ❜

    ❛  selfish  people  always  say  that ;   anyone  is  selfish  who  doesn’t  do  what  they  want .   you  are  more  selfish  than  i  am .   you’re  the  most  selfish  person  i  ever  saw .  ❜

    ❛  i  don’t  know  what  to  do .   i  don’t  know  what  to  do .   i  can’t  bear  it .  ❜

    ❛  you  stop !   you stop !   i  hate  you !   everybody  hates  you !   i  wish  everybody  would  run  out  of  the  house  and  let  you  scream  yourself  to  death !   you  will  scream  yourself  to  death  in  a  minute ,   and  i  wish  you  would !  ❜

    ❛  you  smell  like  flowers .  ❜

    ❛  i  don’t  want  to  remember .  ❜

    ❛  he’d  be  at  home  in  buckingham  palace  or  at  the  bottom  of  a  coal  mine .  ❜

    ❛  what  big  eyes  you’ve  got ,   ___ .   when  you  are  thinking  they  get  as  big  as  saucers .   what  are  you  thinking  about  now ?  ❜

    ❛  i  don’t  want  this  afternoon  to  go ,   but  i  shall  come  back  tomorrow ,   and  the  day  after ,   and  the  day  after ,   and  the  day  after .  ❜

    ❛  i  shall  live  forever  and  ever  and  ever !   i  shall  find  out  thousands  and  thousands  of  things .  ❜

    ❛  do  you  believe  in  magic ?   i  hope  you  do .  ❜

    ❛  where  you  tend  a  rose ,   a  thistle  cannot  grow .  ❜

    ❛  i  thought  you  would  be  dead .  ❜

    ❛  now  it  need  not  be  a  secret  anymore .  ❜ 

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“I didn’t have to explain it when Nana did it! I don’t know how to explain it!” he sobbed, backing away from her touch even as she tried to be gentle. Nana never asked him to explain how to do his hair, only sometimes ask if he wanted something different — the answer was no, of course. Most of the time. And now she was gone, and no one could do it the same. 

“I hate you!” Though still entirely too young to understand hatred, Elros knew no better word to describe what he felt. Angry, maybe, but that wasn’t enough. 

“I don’ want you to t- touch my hair. Not until you can get it like Nana d- did...” 

@feanors-daughter​ asked: [ braid ] for elros || MEME

“That’s not how Nana does it.” 

Elros is not usually fussy about how his hair is styled — but then, he’s never had to be, before. Elwing has ever done it the same way, and for this — Fëanorian — to try and change it will only serve as a reminder of where he is. 

Where he is not. He is not home.

“I don’t like it that way!” he cries, tears filling his eyes as he bats Laurelin’s hands away, and covers his head with his arms. “A- I’ll just ask Elrond to do it. He remembers how! You don’t!” 

[lachind]

@feanors-daughter​ asked: [ flower ]  little lau for feanor || MEME

“What’s this?”

Fëanor glanced at his daughter, a soft smile on his face that grew when he realized what she held. Kneeling in front of her, he took the violet into his hand, and with the other pulled Laurelin close to his chest. 

“Look what you’ve found, selda! Shall we look for more?” 

[lachind]

@feanors-daughter​ asked: [ braid ] for elros || MEME

“That’s not how Nana does it.” 

Elros is not usually fussy about how his hair is styled — but then, he’s never had to be, before. Elwing has ever done it the same way, and for this — Fëanorian — to try and change it will only serve as a reminder of where he is. 

Where he is not. He is not home.

“I don’t like it that way!” he cries, tears filling his eyes as he bats Laurelin’s hands away, and covers his head with his arms. “A- I’ll just ask Elrond to do it. He remembers how! You don’t!” 

[lachind]

Sauron

Commission for @astorey91

commissions info

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Elrond and Elros by ChoiStar