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lamemaster · 1 month ago

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In Search of an Epilogue

Request: Finrod or any of the Fëanorians would match up very well with a faeries au, especially considering how the first men must have felt when meeting finrod. And one can't forget how beor liked finrod so much that he went with him as his vassal, or how they have to keep their oaths. To make it not too much like cannon though and more like an au keeping cannon in mind, it may fit best with modern s/o, or eldaritch elves, those are always fun.

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Faerie/canon divergent au

Summary: He can sense your growing agitation, the building tempest of your mind. So close to snapping it. But he will be patient. He was no brute.

AN: Thanks for requesting! I love dark Faerie core. Idk how this turned out to be this apocalyptic but I hope you like it anon.

Next up- Ritual gone wrong for Amaras. Fall trope event list

You struggled against the chains that held you to the unlit room with blooming black mold that did not hold back from any chance of entering your mind.

Yet, all this could not erase the sound of his laughter from your memories. The silence of your cell could not hinder your fingers, which mimicked his as he wove the blooms of his forest into crowns.

Fey touched they called you or the mad one which the much less eloquent ones preferred. For none of your kind had ever escaped the encounter of the firstborn with a mind that held onto its sanity.

Legends say- just a fleeting sight of the Faeries can drive a man into oblivion. Some have reported women who were left dancing until their feet bled themselves into the ground while others spoke of fools who laughed their guts out.

It is impossible not to love such a noble sight. To not obey the distant kin who held the beauty greater than any in Arda.

Such fear had driven humans away from the forests of the fair folk. Mountains, forests, wonders of the old world were abandoned for the safety of seas and deserts which the firstborn did not frequent.

Wandering few who ventured into the lands of the past were cursed. For them to never return in most instances and in some the returning being was not human anymore. What returned was the spoil of the firstborn’s sport.

Such was the case for you. But your mother held her hope. Perhaps this cell was a mercy. A last ditch effort to hold you from the curse that clung to you. But you could no longer care for it.

You had to get to him. You could hear him calling your name. Why couldn’t anyone else hear it, the loud echo of his calls reverberated through your bones. Please…Please wait for me, you beg him in the splintering thoughts of your mind.

Your wrists strained against the ungiving manacles until the metal gave under the strange magic of your obsession. A subtle scent of pine filled the room. The scent of his magic.

To your mother, you leave crumpled words in hopes of a reunion in a better future. A farewell good enough to live without the grief of loss.

They had been the unmarred firstborn of Illuvatar once. Untouched by the sins that ran rampant in the veins of Middle Earth. But that was now ancient history, lost even to them.

The tales of Silmaril, love, valor, and honor washed away by the never ending eternity of their world. Valinor had long melted into the void, the Ainur blended into their elements. The Illuvatar called for all but for his priced first born, who were for eternity bound to the wretched lands of their birth.

They changed too. The stubborn unflinching elves had bowed to the passage of time and paid their price by losing themselves.

They had allowed the sins of their past to invade their present. This fall was a response to their absent creator. They did not need him, his Timeless Halls that he offered to all but them, or his salvation.

A bitter rejection of Illuvatar was all his kind possessed. The only vehement revenge they could extract. To marr what he once gloated in his music.

Toying with the pulsing call that Finrod tugs you with, he knows that you will come to him. You too, are unable to resist him.

He can sense your growing agitation, the building tempest of your mind. So close to snapping it. But he will be patient. He is no brute.

Nothing like his cousins, who sought humans for their lust. Both blood and carnal. The Sons of Feanor were a mess no matter what age.

No, Finrod was better. He was a friend. That’s what the men of his past called him. The gentle Nom. Their God. He quite enjoyed the worshiping look in their eyes. No different from the ones ages ago.

And now that the Valar were no longer, he was perhaps the closest to God that humans could ever get. He held no such expectations from Illuvatar, much less for the unfortunate secondborn. It was a mercy to fleeting lives of the secondborn to witness him. To be given a chance to love him.

It had been a spontaneous plan. You were too alike his Beor. Too trusting, too loyal, and too much in love with him. Finrod snickered, in a past life, he would have been struck by the integrity of love. Of wanting to honor your feelings and loyalty.

He could still remember his righteous debates with the human woman his brother once pined for. How taken by Illuvatar he had been. Promising to meet her in life beyond Arda ha...

The ages spent on this rock had taught him something else. The past he had weathered long ago.

He had urged your wandering feet into his flower ring. You, who in stupid naivety stepped into his forest. He led you astray, hunting for fawns that plopped you right into his palm.

And for the old times sakes he had put on quite a show. Seated in the valley of blossoms, he had let you observe him. Let you marvel at his innocent facade of beauty and awe that held the most potent of his glamor.

The marred remnants of the Lay of Leithian were now your story and his. In his woods, he was the Maia and you, a lost prey.

Soon you will be here with him. He will have snatched you from the Illuvatar’s world for a second time or perhaps more.

His mind wonders what web would he ensnare you in this time? Something alluring enough to bring Aegnor back into the play his brother detested so much.

Bodies are fickle. Yours was at its limit. If the constant droughts of madness had not already corroded your brain, the captivity of weeks certainly had affected your muscles which strained after long hours of crouching in the tiny cell.

Running through the woods was nowhere as dramatic as the tales of old times made it to be. You were not chased by a band of orcs (those were long gone anyway), nor did you stumble upon the crazy naked woman from the tale you could not remember, or witness the dance of half Maia.

You did however, after countless falls and scratches from the grouchy trees, ran into a sight worth more than any of the past stories. The sight of your lover, who in the dark of the forest glowed brighter than any star put in the skies by the ancient gods.

Transfixed by the sight you stood watching his delicate fingers strum the strings of an instrument you had never seen. It’s tune stripping you of all that you carried with you.

All your yearning spun into his song.

Your steps fall onto the uneven ground without a care. Unnumbered falls had failed to stop you for so long. I am here, you wanted to reassure him. Whisper to him because your heart could not handle scaring him away. I have come so, do not be so lonesome, I am here, your heart thundered a declaration.

This scene felt like home. As if lifetimes of your existence blended into this. You knew what would happen next, discarding any resistance your hands would cup his cheek. Caress away the burden of countless eternities.

In that moment, he- Finrod would break away from his trance. He would look at you with a pained expression. His brows would furrow at your sight. He would fuss over your scarred wrists, your bleeding feet, and the scratches on your body.

This was the dance, you were born with the knowledge of. And this was the revelation of that murky, buried beneath the layers of past fate.

As a Beor, as Pali, as Yjor, and as infinite other yous. You find him in every lifetime. I am here. The words that bring him back.

Finrod perhaps was one of the abandoned children of Eru. A cruel fae who wrecked your life in every reincarnation.

But at the gentlest touch, he became your Ingoldo. The elf of Aman. The great king of Nargothrond.

So without a will to be away from him any longer, you run to him. Your heart- full of fondness from your crooked yet wretched elf.

In your arms, Finrod blinks in a daze, his mind muddled after the tackling hug you engulfed him in. “I am here, Ingoldo,” you whisper, smiling above him. Thank you for finding me.” You caress his hair with an aching familiarity.

Within mere seconds the scheming fae crumbles. His eyes- clearing into the recognition of the past. An understanding of himself. In all the chapters of Arda, your story and his continued to write itself in different fonts.

Like the old tome dusted open to encounter it's crisp pages and subtle scent of its origin.

Under the stream of his tears he kisses you, this angst is afterall, the only remaining part of him. The heartbreak of numerous trials that Middle Earth has failed to devour.

With your mercy, Findarato is himself for those pleasant hours. Unabandoned by the fire of his creator. It is his curse afterall, to seek the end until forever. You are that end. The pleasant pause that relieves him of his darkness.

And when the worlds do end, he will beg for your forgiveness, the hundreds of you he has wronged. He will repent and grovel for the pain he has caused you. Because then, he will not be this.

That won’t be a chapter but an epilogue written with the promise of everlasting peace. An end of the Finrod of Middle Earth.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #finrod x reader #finrod felagund #fae au #dark faerie #canon divergence #fall event #🍂🍂🍂#unedited pls don't kill me

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