#Fingolfin x Anairë

[asianbutnotjapanese]

Hi! For the WIP folder game, you know I have to ask about:

Reading smut about your future husband is finally going to happen

This one is Fingolfin x Anairë/y/n which is an idea I get while I was writing "how to stay alive"

It is a modern reader who died and reunited with her other soul half, her other soul half is Anairë's soul.

"You're saying that Fingolfin is your betrothed? Heh he's not my most favourite but he will work just fine” “What do you mean?"

The garden was filled with flowers and plants in colours and shapes that pleased the eyes. Anairë walked from one side to the other to show her “other half” the place. “Remember when I said I know you, well and I know Fingo-I mean NoLoFiNwE and yeaaa I did read few things about him” "What things?” Anairë’s fingers touched the flower gently fearing her handling would hurt the petals. “You know things like smut or lemon…..” "Lemon? The fruit?" The bench the elf sat on was facing the whole garden….? “You know like hmmhumm -What- like what happens when you love someone....." The bench they sat on creaked as Anairë shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"like kissing?" "No my sweet fragile child, like fanfiction Or... stories written by people who, uh, like to imagine things like married people things” The garden visitors turned to face Anairë hearing her loud gasps. The lady apologised and left in a hurry. “So it was you the one who made me dream about these things, the one who made me read thes-these things!!!” Her face was burning from the blush that spread from her cheeks to her ears tips. Anairë changed her way towards Irmo’s dominion.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Memorabilia & First Kiss - Fingolfin x Anairë

Dear anon, here goes your story! :D

I am afraid that it might have turned out a little sadder than I've anticipated! Tomorrow, I'll be gone the whole day, so I'll post it now. I hope that's okay by you!

Lots of love!

Words: 1 020

Characters: Anairë x Fingolfin

Warnings: Sadness, canon-compliant deaths referenced, Fëanor mentioned, Russingon if you want to read it like that, marital estrangement

Ñolofinwë had never thought of himself as a vain creature, and thus the idea that people might find his collection of memorabilia odd had never even crossed his mind.

While most of the other revenants from that Eru-forsaken world in which he’d been cruelly slain seemed desperate to leave the past behind, he could not help but dwell on all the things he’d lost and still missed.

Soon, it had become common knowledge that the former High King of the Ñoldor collected mementoes—broken weapons, torn banners, and a lot of dented metal—to stare at them sadly.

Unbeknownst to him, other people did worry about his ever-growing hoard of absurd and grotesque trinkets, and when he disappeared into his secret vault once again, his oldest son finally decided to speak up.

“Mother,” Findekáno whispered, clasping Anairë’s slender hands in his own pleadingly. “You must stop him! This isn’t healthy…”

With a long, low sigh, she squeezed the strong fingers that had shed so much blood in the name of a lost cause; she too remembered the pudgy flesh she had, once upon a time, cradled lovingly through many a mingling, and her heart broke at the recollection of what was never to be again.

“Oh son,” she whispered. “You cannot fathom how heavily the past weighs on your father—on us.”

“Do you think that I have not loved and lost people? Even as I kneel at your feet like a child, my soul is burdened with the absence of those I’ve held most dear. Do not presume to know my suffering!”

When her face fell, he instantly kissed her hands devotedly. “Forgive me—I—”

“I understand,” Anairë said soothingly. “I shall seek out your father in his halls of miserable memory. We both know that I lack the fiery determination of the one who might have easily convinced him to set fire to his precious trove, but I shall do my best for you.”

“If he will not desist,” Fingon muttered. “At least convince him to accept symbols of fonder, happier memories to be added to his assortment of knickknacks.”

Reaching into his pocket, he extricated a golden ribbon, knotted around a slender ring into which was woven a gleaming, red stone.

“Fëanáro made that ring,” Anairë gasped. “He fashioned it when Nerdanel—when—back…”

“He made it for his firstborn son,” Findekáno nodded slowly. “I entrust to you, my parents, my guiding stars, the childhood we’ve lost. I’ve spoken to my siblings and to all our returned kin—not one has denied me, and I shall soon be in possession of objects that are more precious than the armour we wore and the banners we carried.”

“So be it,” Anairë smiled, full of pride and yet also deeply humbled by the stubborn, reckless wisdom and determination of her son. “I’ll go to your father right away.”

Before she did so, though, she slipped back into the room she’d occupied during her long abiding as the mere ghost of a wife who was not even granted the quiet dignity of a rightfully grieving widow.

Just like Findekáno, she had kept certain things. Beneath the anger, the resentment, and the burning hatred, there had been stubborn memories, deeper and more precious, that she’d shielded and guarded ferociously, defending them from herself and the devastating violence of her own helpless wrath.

Maybe, she considered, it was now time to return them to the one she had always loved more than hated—a fact for which she’d oft reprimanded and punished herself severely throughout the ages.

“Your children are worried,” she called as she entered her husband’s vault on silent soles; after all this time apart, she no longer knew how to properly address him, and every word that came to mind—his name, his title, husband—burned on her tongue like acid. “Your heir sends me in lieu of that half-brother who might never return.”

Whirling around agonisingly slowly, Ñolofinwë raised his mournful, dull gaze to her radiant face with all the humble penitence of a dolorous supplicant kneeling at the feet of a divine statue.

“He sends you the insignia of his heart rather than of his house,” she went on, laying down her son’s offerings before Ñolofinwë. “And I’d like to add my own most cherished keepsakes to the pile.”

Steeling herself, she opened her other hand and produced a dried flower and a piece of torn fabric.

“I don’t know if you remember, Ñolofinwë, son of Finwë and Indis, and if you don’t, I am here to remind you…These are from—”

“When we danced in the light of the Mingling—you were so beautiful…” he finished her sentence in a quiet but unhesitant voice. “I do remember—I’ve replayed that memory in my heart whenever the dread and doom grew too overpowering.”

“These are from the exact moment I knew that I loved you and that I’d marry you,” Anairë corrected gently. “You swung me around so enthusiastically that my beautiful dress got tangled in an errant branch and ripped. Eru, you were so apologetic…”

“And then we kissed until we were both out of breath with laughter and—”

“Shamefaced horniness?” Anairë cackled. She had missed his sparkling humour as much as his tendency to baulk at salacious subjects, and her shattered heart started to mend. “I remember that as well. Don’t you dare blush now—we’ve conceived and raised the fruits of that sacred desire together. Do you recall?”

“I remember tearing them from you,” Ñolofinwë replied tonelessly. “I recollect their deaths, far from you, far from me…”

“But they were not,” she opined carefully, falling to her knees and cupping his cheek with a love she had deemed dead and destroyed. “Look upon these mementoes, husband, and understand that—from our first kiss to their last breath—not one moment of our story has been forgotten or lost. We’ve all held on to those memories in our own way. Cast away broken crowns and hearts! Feast your eyes and soul on the love that was—and that shall be again, I hope!”

@fellowshipofthefics here's a sweet one, for once

Welcome aboard for a new fic! I love to have you...and today, we'll have a canon ship <3

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[elficially-done-with-life]

I left out Finwë & Míriel & Indis, since that situation is quiet complicated to put it simple😅

I only included ships I (for some reason) found fanworks about during my time in this fandom, if there is a canon/noncanon ship that i did not include that isn't because I don't like it but simply because I didn't find it here (I'm still kind of new to the fandom, I've only been here for like three months...)

[outofangband]

Anairë, Noldorin lady, wife of Fingolfin. I headcanon her as devout (her name means holiest), elegant and with a strong interest in art, horticulture, and architecture.

x x x x x x x x x

[lovelylovebug]

Rules

♡ nsfw and sfw (but nothing "questionable" like e.g. non-con, pedophilia, violence ...)

♡ stay friendly

♡ asks are welcome too, but please direct them to my other blog @elficially-done-with-life

♡ sometimes I won't answer right away, sometimes I will. It depends on how much time I have

♡ only Interactions, if you have fic requests I would be glad if you send those to my blog @elficially-done-with-life

♡ also, only Interactions between reader and characters (both platonic and romantic is allowed)... no character x character

♡ no rings of power characters (because I haven't seen the show yet and won't be able to portrait them right)

♡ Characters:

Valar:

Yavanna, Oromë, Melkor, Nienna

Noldor:

Fëanor, Nerdanel, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras, Celebrimbor, Gil-Galad, Aredhel, Maeglin, Eärendil, Idril, Elenwë, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Lalwen, Findis, Indis, Míriel, Anairë, Earwen, Finrod, Argon, Celebrían, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen, Finduilas

Sindar:

Luthien, Beleg, Nellas, Elwing

Other Elves:

Glorfindel, Erestor, Rog, Egalmoth, Haldir

Dwarves:

Thorin, Bofur, Kili, Fili

Humans:

Eowyn, Faramir, Boromir, Haleth

[cilil]

rare pair bingo

Here's an overview of my progress for the TPC rare pair bingo!

So far, prompts have been combined with prompts from other series (and I might do that again if I start another drabble challenge), but I'm also open to suggestions for pairings and/or prompts as standalone pieces!

⸙ Hand Holding: Winter drabbles, Oromë x Vána

⸙ Staring from across: Femslash February, Galadriel x Amarië

⸙ Blushing: Curumo x Aiwendil

⸙ Getting lost: Femslash February, Uinen x Tar-Míriel

⸙ Gift giving: Femslash February, Lótelissë x Litsaiwa

⸙ Cultural misunderstanding: Winter drabbles, Manwë x Varda

⸙ Soulmate goose of enforcement: Anairë x Eärwen

⸙ First snowfall: Femslash February, Aredhel x Elenwë

⸙ And they were roommates: Míriel x Nerdanel

⸙ Flowers: Winter drabbles, Findis x Elemmírë

⸙ Candle light: Winter drabbles, Námo x Vairë

⸙ Hand feeding: Femslash February, Ungoliant x Thuringwethil

⸙ Free space - righteous fury: Mairon x Arien

⸙ Who did this to you: Femslash February, Arien x Ilmarë

⸙ Sparring practice: Winter drabbles, Eönwë x Arafinwë x Ingwion

⸙ Twinkle in their eye: Femslash February, Varda x Yavanna

⸙ Exploring a new place: Uinen x Elwing

⸙ Spin the bottle: Finrod x Caranthir

⸙ Horseback riding: Femslash February, Vána x Éowyn

⸙ Annoyances to lovers: Femslash February, Nári (OC) x Thuringwethil

⸙ Picnic: Winter drabbles, Irmo x Estë

⸙ Climbing a tree: Winter drabbles, Aulë x Yavanna

⸙ Workplace rivals: Winter drabbles, Maglor x Elemmírë

⸙ Hanahaki disease: Winter drabbles, Mairon x Arien

⸙ Drinking game: Tulkas x Oromë

𓆸 Prostate stimulation: Hador x Fingolfin

𓆸 Deep-throat: Fëanor x Manwë

𓆸 Body shots: Vána x Éowyn

𓆸 One-bar prison: Gothmog x Eönwë

𓆸 First time: Dark romance, Melkor x Mairon (x Arien)

𓆸 Leather: Mairon x Maeglin

𓆸 Fuck or die: Fingolfin x Maglor

𓆸 Strap-ons: Haleth x Caranthir

𓆸 Overstimulation: Dark romance, Glorfindel x Erestor

𓆸 Mutual masturbation: Screw Yule, Nienna x Nerdanel

𓆸 Humiliation: Turgon x Caranthir

𓆸 Predator/prey: Melkor x Ungoliant

𓆸 Free space - ritual: Dark romance, Mairon x Witch King

𓆸 Knotting: Screw Yule, Mairon x Finrod

𓆸 Phallic gags: Maglor x Imladris crew

𓆸 Medical kink: Fëanor x reader (2nd person)

𓆸 Glory hole: Fëanor x Finarfin

𓆸 Angry sex: Melkor x Manwë

𓆸 Masks: Maeglin x Lords of Gondolin

𓆸 Interspecies sex: Dark romance, Melkor x Maedhros x Fingon

𓆸 Naked sub/clothed dom: Ar-Pharazôn x Mairon

𓆸 Hypnosis: Elrond x River Spirit

𓆸 Messy sex: Glofindel x Erestor x Ecthelion

𓆸 Pet play: Dior x Amras

𓆸 Feet: Maglor x Lúthien

𓆸 Extra - handjob: Arien x Eönwë

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A matter of the utmost urgency

Pairing: Fingon x Fëanor (Pride and Prejudice AU)

Others: Anairë and Fingolfin

Themes: Angst-ish

Warnings: Same as above

Word count: 1.3K words

Summary: Fëanor calls on Fingon to question him about rumours surrounding him and Fëanor’s nephew, Maedhros.

A/n: This Pride and Prejudice! Russingon fic was inspired by this post and this ask. I drew a lot of inspiration from chapter fifty six of the book in order to set the scene, but I hope you all enjoy reading it.

His Lordship entered the study with an air that was more than usually ungracious and greeted Fingon’s warm welcome with a curt tilt of the head. Lord Fëanor sat down without even being invited and declared, “The rest of your family, I suppose.”

The others, though amazed, were still flattered by having such an important guest and received him with the utmost politeness and civility.

“Yes, my lord,” Lady Anairë replied. “My daughter is lately married, and my second son is about the grounds, walking with a young lady who has accepted his proposal and will be a part of our family by Michaelmas.”

A brief silence followed. Lord Fëanor turned to Fingon and said, very stiffly, “You have a small garden here.”

“Indeed, sir, it is nothing compared to the gardens of Formenos, but we are pleased with it all the same.”

“Would you like some tea, my lord?” Lord Fingolfin offers, hesitates. He considers the time. “Or something a little stronger, perhaps?”

“Certainly not.” Lord Fëanor rises with a start. The rest stands up with him. “I wish to speak to Lord Fingon alone. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”

“I see.” Lord Fingolfin looks to his oldest, then the others, utterly bewildered. “Perhaps, my son, you could take his Lordship on a turn about the gardens and show him the different walks. It is still quite fine out.”

Fingon obeyed, and attended his guest outside. Lord Fëanor’s carriage stood by the door, elaborately carved and gilded, and crusted with jewels. Some had gone on to whisper that Lord Fëanor crafted it all himself. Fingon did not doubt them.

They continued in silence along a gravel path that led to a little maze. Fingon was determined to make no effort to start a conversation with a man who proved to be even more insolent and disagreeable than before.

As soon as they entered a path lined with plump yew shrubs, Lord Fëanor said, “You can be at no loss, Lord Fingon, as to why I am here.”

“Indeed, you are mistaken, my lord,” Fingon demurred mildly. “I cannot account for the reason for such an honor.”

“Lord Fingon,” Lord Fëanor countered in an angry tone. “I must warn you, I am not to be trifled with. However dishonest you choose to be, I shall not be so. A report of the most alarming nature reached my ears three days ago that not only has your brother secured for himself a most advantageous marriage, but you, Lord Fingon, intend to be united with my nephew, Lord Maedhros. Naturally, I did not wish to disturb him with news of such a scandalous falsehood, so I resolved to journey here and make my sentiments known to you.”

Fingon stared in amazement. “If you believe such a report to be a falsehood, then why did your lordship trouble yourself by traveling this far?”

“To hear it contradicted by your own lips.”

“Surely your lordship understands that by coming here to see me and my kin,” Fingon replied coolly, “you will only give great credence to such a report, if indeed it ever existed.”

“If?” Lord Fëanor replied, coloring with great disdain. “Do you claim to be ignorant of it then?”

“I have never even heard of such a thing,” Fingon returned truthfully.

“Then Lord Maedhros has made no offer of marriage to you?”

“Your lordship has declared it to be a scandalous falsehood.”

“It ought to be so; it must be so, but do not take me for a fool, Lord Fingon. I know those like you and your upstart pretensions. With any art, with any allurement, you may still attempt draw him in and make him forget his duty toward his family.”    

Fingon flushed in anger, and said, “If I have indeed attempted to draw him in, I would be the last person to admit to such an act.” 

“Foolish, selfish boy!” Lord Fëanor stammered in disbelief. “Let me make myself plain. This engagement that you desire for yourself can never take place. My nephew has already been promised to another. Now what do you have to say?”

“Only this,” Fingon said. “If your nephew is indeed promised to another, your lordship need not worry about him making such an offer to me.”  

Lord Fëanor went silent for a moment, somewhat appeased.

“This engagement is of a most peculiar kind,” he began anew, "and has been planned since Maedhros’ infancy. It was the sincerest wish of the lady’s family, as well as his. And now, just as all of our wishes are to be accomplished to their fullest, just as we await news of a true and lasting attachment, are they to be prevented by a young lord of inferior birth? Have you no regard for the wishes of his kin? Have you no sense of propriety? Have you not heard, from my own lips, the tacit nature of his engagement?”

“Indeed, my lord, but what is all of that to me?” replied Fingon. “You and the lady’s father may have wished for such a marriage, but the completion of such a dream was wholly dependent on the actions of others. If Lord Maedhros is neither by honor nor by oath bound to the lady, what stops him from making another choice? And if I am indeed his choice, why should I stop myself from accepting him?”

“Why?” Lord Fëanor cried with energy. “Because of honor and decorum forbid it, that is why. His family and those connected to him will not welcome you, nor shall we even mention your name. Such an alliance will be a disgrace to us all."

“These are grave hardships indeed.” Fingon found himself growing angrier by the moment. Yet, with the utmost composure, he added, “But they would be short-lived, I am sure. Any spouse of Lord Maedhros will have so much happiness, on the whole, to fill them that they will find no cause to repine.”

“Headstrong, unfeeling boy!" Lord Fëanor raged, "Tell me once again, are you engaged to my nephew?”

As much as Fingon was not obliged to reply, he said thus: “I am not.”

Lord Fëanor, relieved, went on to ask, “And will you swear to never enter into such an engagement should my nephew make you an offer of marriage?”

"I shall not and will never agree to such a request," Fingon replied with resolve.

Lord Fëanor purpled. "I have heard enough, Lord Fingon. Now, hear me in silence. Do you think I am ignorant of your lack of fortune?" He accused. "Or that I am ignorant of the scandalous particulars of your sister's infamous elopement and the hasty marriage that was only achieved at the expense of your uncle? Is such a girl to call herself my nephew's sister? And her husband, a lowly soldier no less. Is he to call himself my nephew's brother? Heaven and earth, are the shades of Tirion to be thus polluted?"

"You have, my lord, insulted me and mine in every possible way," Fingon retorted angrily. "And now must have nothing further to say. I insist upon returning to the house."

Lord Fëanor was still furious. "And this is your resolution, then? Very well. I know what must be done. Do not think me so easily defeated, Lord Fingon."

He continued to speak thusly, and Fingon made no further attempt to answer. When they reached the carriage, Lord Fëanor stopped by the door and said, "I had hoped to find you amenable to reason, Lord Fingon, and I am most disappointed to see that you are not. I shall not take my leave of you, nor shall I leave you and your kin my compliments. You are unworthy of such attention."

Fingon did not reply. He quietly walked into the house and went straight to his own chambers, ignorant of the curious looks of his family.

[missrosiewolf]

Some random Silm thoughts I had:

- Transman Fingolfin and Transwoman Anairë

- Gay asexual Argon

- Somebody is aroace I just haven’t figured out who (Amras maybe? Ingwion?)

- Finarfin once attempted to strangle Fëanor with a harp at Argon’s 50th begetting day

- Míriel coming out of the House of Vairë to make fun of Finarfin’s name (like she did with Fingolfin‘s the time he made the mistake of visiting her)

- Scrawny tall af Turgon with buff af Elenwë who is more than capable of bench-pressing him

- Idril taking up the spear in honor of her mother (since the Vanyar typically preferred spears as their weapon of choice)

- Penlod is that quiet motherfucker who is waiting for the best opportunity to poison you

- A ship: Rog x Celebrimbor

- Transman Celebrimbor and he got top surgery in Gondolin

- Fëanor and Ingwion are always getting into a fight

- Celebrimbor is the youngest of the great-grandchildren born in Aman

- Orodreth is the eldest of the great-grandchildren born in Aman (which makes Idril the middle great-grandchild). Him, Idril, and Celebrimbor were all besties growing up

- Glorfindel as a son of Ingwë

- Argon loves painting and dancing. (Ecthelion will bust out that flute and play a tune his boyfriend can dance or paint to)

- Fingon is the walking local bi disaster (”Women are hot. Men are hot. EVERYONE IS HOT. HELP”)

- Turgon...is he bi? Pan? Who knows but he definitely did the horizontal hula with Penlod at least twice (he doesn’t talk about it)

- Fingolfin dies a little on the inside every time he see how much taller than him Maedhros and Turgon are

- Finarfin WAS the tallest in the family until Turgon hit his last growth spurt. Now he’s chronically pissed off at his nephew for being taller than him.

- Sauron betrayed Celebrimbor because he was at risk of becoming a SIMP for this talented elf

- Nonbinary Finrod

- Transwoman Finduilas

- Fingolfin and Írimë as twins (Finwë had to be dragged home by Olwë because he wanted a large family but he was not prepared for TWINS)

- Maedhros, a himbo. nuff said.

- Finarfin’s chosen hobby is woodcutting

- Írimë and Círdan probably got married at one point

[jail-crow-of-mandos]

Masterlist

Red text = nsfw

Purple text = funky palette or shitpost

Art

Ambarussa: x, x

Anairë: x

Angbang: x, x, x, x

Aragorn: x

Aulë: x

Caranthir: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Celebrían: x, x, x, x

Celegorm: x, x, x

Curufin: x

Curufin, Celegorm, and Caranthir: x

Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen: x

Elrond: x

Elrond and Elros: x

Éowyn: x

Faramir: x

Fingon: x, x, x

Fingolfin: x, x

Finrod: x

Frodo/Sam: x

Legolas: x, x, x

Maedhros: x

Maeglin: x, x, x, x, x, x, x

Maglor: x, x

Mairon: x, x, x, x

Manwë: x

Melkor: x

Míriel: x

Mouth of Sauron: x

Nerdanel: x

Pippin & Gandalf: x

Russingon: x, x, x, x, x, x

Thuringwethil: x, x, x, x

Yavanna: x

Fics

Angbang: x

Éowyn/Faramir: x

Kidnap dads: x

Legimli: x

Maedhros and Eru: x

Maeglin: x

Maeglin/Mairon: x

Morgoth/Tulkas: x

Russingon: x, x

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cursed Cards - Part 3

So, here is the last part of this...

It was an honour and a pleasure to collaborate with @sauroff on this silly slice of pure happiness.

Thank you for all those who were with me on this ride.

-> Part 1 -> Part 2

Fingon's POV ⬇️

Maedhros' POV ⬇️

Cursed Cards - Part 3

Words: 3,2 k

Warnings: Russingon (still half-cousin incest in canon)

Context: Continuation and final instalment of this!

As promised, Maglor organised a merry get-together soon after. His allegiance to his oldest brother, as it turned out, was only too easily undermined by the chance to kill two birds with one stone.

Hence why he sat, smug and trembling with anticipation, on Fingolfin’s very own armchair and waited for the avalanche of haphazard greetings to ebb off. He was particularly proud to have gotten his whole family – minus his indisposed father – to visit Fingon’s in a post-Christmas massacre of warmed-up leftovers and piping hot gossip.

“Oh, mum,” Fingon squeaked upon seeing the picture he had entrusted to his mother in confidence prominently displayed on the dining room table. “Russo won’t like it.”

He was right; Maedhros blanched at the sight and backed away into Caranthir to bar his way and – if possible – his line of sight on the offending cliché.

“But…” Anairë started, seeking Nerdanel’s gaze and then whirling around to stare at Maglor who – in turn – only grinned and shrugged lightly.

Ever the showman, the second-born son of the suspicious mother of seven who was now also narrowing her eyes at him had evidently not been able to resist a dramatic reveal of the photograph he had secured through charm and graceful nagging.

“It’s so nice that you and the children could come,” Anairë chirped; she didn’t comment on Fëanor’s absence though and waved Nerdanel into her living room enthusiastically.

“It was ever so good of you to invite us,” Nerdanel replied in the same cheerful tone. “Few people are willing nowadays to put up with all seven of my bra…erm, sons.” She winked.

“You’re family after all,” the other woman said good-humouredly and handed Nerdanel an elegant glass filled with a bubbly, sweet-smelling cocktail. “My husband’s latest concoction,” she explained with a fond smile thrown at the man standing in a corner as if he was surrounded by rabid dogs.

“What is he up to?” Nerdanel muttered under her breath as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to Maglor; she knew her children well and could always tell when one of them was about to cause a ruckus. “That smile never bodes well.”

“Oh Nelyo, brother mine,” Maglor called in a singsong voice across the room when he realised that he had to act quickly before his mother could somehow foil his great master plan. “Come over here; I have a gift for you, my dearest sibling.”

Maedhros flinched violently; being dubbed Maglor’s favourite brother always meant that one was his next victim. A quick glance at the others only confirmed this: Moryo was backing away slowly while Tyelko drew nearer with a bloodthirsty smile.

“You’re done,” one of the twins hooted and then both went to perch on the armrests of Maglor’s throne to be certain they’d have front-row seats to whatever bloodbath was about to take place.

“What is going on?” Turgon – still hovering by the door as if ready to take off at the drop of a hat – asked warily. “’Rissë?”

“Hey! I’ve got nothing to do with this, I think, do I?” She turned to her mother who merely gave her an encouraging, indulgent smile.

Anairë would not have said so out loud, but she did enjoy the tremulous anticipation in the room.

“Ah, you do me wrong and wound me deeply,” Maglor exclaimed and put the back of his hand to his brow in a gesture of mental torment. “It is a token of my love and respect that I am about to hand over to my esteemed older brother.”

As the last notes of his dramatic speech echoed in the sudden silence, he whipped out a little piece of paper and extended it to Maedhros who was advancing cautiously towards that outstretched hand.

If Maglor had expected amusement or even mockery from him, he was sorely disappointed though for Maedhros’ eyes grew round and glassy with some deep, unspoken emotion.

“What is it?” Fingon stepped up behind him; unlike his boyfriend, he immediately broke into merry chuckles. “Oh yes, I remember that one. Don’t be fooled by the picture, Argon is a biter and my sister is actually having the time of her life.”

Maedhros’ eyes flitted over to Aredhel who had schooled her face into a mien of perfectly innocent maidenhood.

“Finno, my love,” he then whispered, “why did you not try to restrain your siblings? I dare say Turgon was not enjoying himself!”

Fingon’s face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to cast his mind back to the exact moment that picture had been taken; he remembered his mother’s sundress and the smell of the forest as if it had been yesterday, but other details were slower in returning to him.

“I must have seen something,” he muttered, gazing into his own eyes – huge in a face he barely recognised as his – as if to find the truth in their shining febrility.

“It was that boy,” Turgon grunted acidly from his vantage point. “Tallish kid, kept mostly to himself…We all saw you stealing glances at him whenever you got the chance. You are not discreet, Fin.”

A pensive, shrewd light came into his eyes as his own sharp mind raced back through time.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered and stepped closer to the group huddled around a smirking Maglor and looked from Fingon to Maedhros meditatively.

“I don’t remember,” Argon said quickly; he didn’t like the way his two older brothers were staring at each other intensely. Whatever mischief they had buried in the past, he wanted no part in it.

“’Rissë had taken away Argon’s bow and they were fighting,” Fingon started to reconstruct the scene in the picture. “I can hear their laughter and the threatening clacking of their teeth in my mind.”

His mind was piecing together the fragments of memory diluted and washed away in the ocean of time and his brow creased in concentration; this had been an important summer for him, he knew, but the specifics escaped his fumbling brain stubbornly.

“I was elbowed by that creature pretending to be our sister,” Turgon supplied readily, tapping his finger at his own pained face in the photo. “And you were staring at that other kid. I remember thinking that he was a most unfortunate-looking creature on account of his complexion. He was also…”

“Covered in kids,” Fingon finished his sentence in a hiss. “He was a rare sight because he was running after other kids all the time. Did he work there?”

“No,” Maglor cut in with a feline grin. “He was the oldest of 7. His complexion is still deplorable, as is his fashion sense.”

Ever since getting the picture, he had talked to both his own mother and Anairë in search of the reason for Fingon’s obvious distractedness. Moreover, he had stared at it in private as well, trying to remember these children.

The crux of the matter had finally come to him in a dream; he had at least seen Fingon before, usually standing at the edge of his field of vision whenever Maedhros had come to hound him about one thing or the other.

“What?” Fingon exclaimed in alarm and amazement.

“Tall, skinny dude, copper-haired, milk-skinned, always dragging around at least one feral youngster, ring any bells?” Maglor enumerated complacently, ticking off his arguments on his fingers. “The red shirts, the haunted look in his eyes, the overabundance of clinking jewellery he didn’t take care of half as well as he should have? No? Nothing?”

Fingon turned his face up to Maedhros, his eyes huge and wet. “You…YOU? My first real crush? My first heartbreak?”

As his eyes closed in slow-motion, everything rushed back like a deluge of colour and sound.

“Of course,” he croaked. “I had never seen anyone half as beautiful; you were the very picture of poise and consummate grace.”

Maedhros guffawed, thus breaking the spell of Fingon’s tender recollections.

“I remember this day as well,” he admitted. “I was everything but graceful.” He shot a withering stare at his youngest brothers and – touching his fingertips to Fingon’s hip as if to make sure he was really there – he gave a deep, heartfelt sigh of embarrassment.

“Go on, dear,” Anairë prompted; after all the sleuthing she had done with Maglor, she couldn’t deny that she was curious as to how that scene she and her husband had laughed about privately many a time over the years had looked like from the other side. “Tell us!”

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Maedhros banned his brothers from Maglor’s armchair and sat down heavily himself.

“It was family day, as we have established,” he then started narrating in a strained voice, “and I had lost the twins. In my defence, I had managed to get all the others somewhat clean and ready, but the twins were nowhere to be found. Your kind nature deceives you, Finno my love, for I was running around like a headless chicken – sweating, dishevelled, and blotchy with stress – in search of that demon spawn, forgive me, mother.”

He shot a pleading, apologetic look at Nerdanel and passed a pale hand over his gorgeous face at the memory of his helpless turmoil.

“My father even reprimanded me later for looking so badly put together,” Maedhros went on, seeking his mother’s eyes for confirmation.

“We’re sorry, Nelyo,” the twins chimed unisono. “We were still young and thought it was funny.”

“You’d still think it funny,” Maglor murmured under his voice but didn’t interrupt his eldest brother in his reminiscence of the chaotic past.

Fingon’s eyes were wide and open as he took in the man he loved and his wicked brothers arrayed around him like guardian angels or hungry wolf pups.

“No wonder you never noticed me,” he joked in what he wanted to be a light tone, but a sliver of pain still stabbed through the airy cloth of his melodious voice.

“Oh,” Maedhros groaned, “I did.”

“You did?” Fingon almost yelled, elbowing Celegorm out of the way – a perfect imitation of his sister’s childhood crime – to kneel by Maedhros’ feet and look up at him, spellbound by the confessions that might well heal his heart.

“Of course I did,” Maedhros laughed, a little strained. “You hung around a lot, you know? Thrice I wanted to go talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The first time, as I had brushed my hair and tucked my shirt into my shorts to look less like the gangly ghost I apparently was, Tyelko decided to throw Moryo’s best clothes into the lake.” Maedhros grimaced.

“Oh…” Fingon could not see why that would have kept Maedhros from pursuing his own plans.

“I was wearing said clothes when they took their fatal dip,” Caranthir supplied in a dangerously flat voice.

Nerdanel sucked her teeth disapprovingly at that; she then nodded at her oldest to go on ratting his brothers out.

“You were bullied a tad that summer, I remember…” Maglor interjected in mellow accents of casual empathy.

“Thank you for reminding me, yes,” Maedhros stage-whispered and jabbed his long, narrow index into his brother’s ribs with punitive force. “I was led to believe that my looks were cause for considerable distress amongst my fellow campers; hence why I endeavoured earnestly to present myself in a soigné fashion. Not that I could hold up that state of neatness for any prolonged period of time, thanks to some people in this very room.”

“The next time,” he then returned resolutely to his tale of woe, “this one screamed bloody murder. Turns out, his harp string had snapped, and he was out of new ones. That was all. I raced across the compound in a blind panic to find that ass lamenting one of five instruments he had brought.” Another vicious poke followed which Maglor accepted magnanimously.

“In the end,” the so-blighted musician then added his own dramatic conclusion to his part in this sordid recounting, “I just played on the strings left to me.”

Fingon was enthralled by the developments and revelations unfurling before him; he barely dared to breathe for fear of disrupting the magic.

“After thus being called names by other campers all summer long,” Maedhros picked up his tale again when Maglor had finished his aside, “I understandably took special pains to look as nice as I could in hopes of making a new friend. And then there was a fire in Curvo’s hall.”

“Good dramatic pacing,” Maglor praised under his breath.

“It was,” Maedhros continued in an imitation of old taletellers’ ominous voices, “Curvo’s fire. He had set his own building aflame.”

“Oh no,” Fingon squeaked.

“What?” Nerdanel expostulated.

“Ooops,” Curufin breathed and immediately started mobilising his puppy eyes to disarm his mother’s ire.

“By the time family day rolled around, I had given up on making new friends,” Maedhros finished and bowed his head to his mother. “I commend you, mother, for I spent that summer dirty, unkempt, and constantly miserable on account of those creatures you claim as your progeny.”

Nerdanel gave a little chuckle and stepped forward to cup his flaming cheek lovingly. “You’ve done well, my beautiful boy,” she whispered as she kissed the top of his head, “and both your father and I are so thankful to you.”

Maedhros’ eyes returned to the photograph in his lap and his tense mien relaxed into boundless fondness.

“I shall cherish this,” he sighed, “thank you Káno for getting it.”

“Auntie and I have done our best.” Maglor crooned, basking in his victory.

“Auntie?” several people exclaimed.

“My brother’s mother-in-law,” Maglor smiled suavely, “is almost my auntie, no?”

“A pleasure, I am sure,” Anairë reassured him, ignoring the choked sputter coming from her husband’s fortification in the far corner. If Fingolfin decided to retreat even further, he’d end up stuck behind the armoire, she was quite sure, but there were too many children in the room for her to worry about her spouse on top of everything.

“I am sorry that we didn’t get to be friends that summer,” Maedhros then said softly to Fingon. “I am now sure that we would have gotten along splendidly.”

He got up and pulled his beloved to his feet as well.

“You were so very handsome too,” he breathed into Fingon’s ear, darkened with embarrassment and emotion. “I quite enjoyed your joyful attire and bright smile. I still do. The crocs are a very nice touch, I dare say!”

Fingon groaned and tried to snatch the picture out of Maedhros’ hands; unfortunately, his own attempts at petty thievery had schooled and honed Maedhros’ skills and he turned around in a flash of copper and red.

Burying his face in that broad, strong back he had seen once too often during that accursed summer, Fingon let the shame wash over him. Not only had Turgon – and probably Aredhel – been aware of his crush, but it had also been revealed tonight that he had inadvertently ended up dating the very same boy he had not even dared approach back then.

"Was I very foolish? Following you around like a lost pup?” he mumbled into the thick, fragrant sweater of his one true love.

“Not at all,” Maedhros swore, his eyes drinking in every detail of the photograph still. “You were tantalisingly out of reach.”

He felt a mix of humility and deep tenderness at the sight of that young boy, staring wistfully into the distance; those expressive eyes and the curve of that sensual mouth – quick to smile and delicious to kiss – were as familiar as his own face to him and yet, this photograph seemed an invaluable treasure, a slice of an irretrievable past, which he’d honour and guard forever.

“I should have known,” Fingon groaned.

“I…did not make the connection either,” Maedhros admitted, “until I saw the picture and it all came back to me.”

Louder then, he called Maglor out for staging a whole production and exposing them to ridicule and familial jeering.

“It would have been less funny if we couldn’t witness the moment the extent of your combined idiocy dawns on you,” Maglor replied, unabashed and not in the least contrite.

“We’re the prisoners of these creatures,” Maedhros sighed. “Until my dying day, I shall keep, defend, and amuse them, it seems.”

“You and me both,” Fingon said gently, slinging his strong arms around Maedhros’ waist and giving him a comforting, strengthening squeeze.

“Actually,” Caranthir said after clearing his throat and exchanging a cold, efficient gaze with Turgon, “we have another Christmas gift for you.”

Wary, Maedhros and Fingon spun around, still holding on to each other tightly, to face the catalysts of chaos and mayhem that were their collective siblings.

“As we have ruined Christmas,” Celegorm jumped in.

“And Summer Camp,” Aredhel chirped.

“Family Day,” Argon muttered.

“Several dates,” Curufin added with a perfect imitation of repentant innocence.

“Most of your carefree days, I admit,” Maglor cut in; he was an accomplished, compelling orator and loved to hear himself sway an audience. “We thought we’d make it up to you.”

“Also, nobody really wants to see you two in shorts ever again,” Turgon commented, sharp-tongued but not without affection.

An envelope was handed to Maedhros who opened it with trembling fingers and gasped.

“Having that many siblings has its perks,” Maglor babbled with uncontained enthusiasm. “It means that we could all chip in and buy you a truly nice holiday to a destination far, far away. A week at the beach, without any of us, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Spluttering, Maedhros burst into laughter as he and Fingon were overwhelmed with frantic hugs and sloppy kisses from their siblings.

“Happy Holidays!”

“You deserve it!”

“Ey,” Aredhel smirked, “we do like you two fools, you know that, right?”

“Don’t miss us too much,” Maglor grinned as he bathed in the light of his brother’s boundless joy. “You’ve done much for us, Nelyo, and we are aware of it. Take this with our compliments; dive into your memories in the privacy of a beach cabana or so.”

“Wear those terrible clothes where nobody can connect you to us,” Caranthir hissed, reaping an approving nod from Turgon.

“That’s incredible, thanks gang!” Fingon was the first to thaw out of his shock; he had never resented his siblings for their natures and needs and so, he was deeply touched by their secret collaboration with his in-laws to come up with such a beautiful gift.

Maedhros’ arms were solid and warm around his shoulders, and he could barely wait to feel them skin-on-skin in the blazing sun of a tropical island while they swam in a deep, blue ocean.

It would be wonderful, he was sure.

“Hmmm, what a surprise,” Maedhros whispered into his ear; he was flushed with wonder and happiness and looked so much more like the boy Fingon only dimly remembered. Past, present, and future blended into a kaleidoscope of red and blue, of copper and black, of marble and ebony and Fingon was afraid he’d burst if he tried to contain the sheer beatitude thrumming in his chest.

“We’ll miss them though, won’t we?” he asked under his breath.

“Just a little,” Maedhros replied and kissed his brow in a rare moment of impulsive tenderness that promptly elicited hoots and groans from the brood of their younger, truly childish siblings.

“Son,” Nerdanel interrupted the brouhaha of thanks and jibes, “send us some pictures, yes? For the next Christmas!”

So, that was that! Thank you for indulging me and make sure to show @sauroff your love and appreciation.

Best wishes for the end of 2022 and - of course - for 2023 as well!

Lots of love!

[elficially-done-with-life]

Meeting Aredhel in Valinor hc

Aredhel x fem!reader

(Reader is Legolas' older sister, i just thought this would be a nice idea)

This takes place AFTER all of the events that happen in middle-earth

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Warnings: indirect mentiones of Eöl, slightly mentioned sexual content

♡ You meet in a forest when Aredhel was hunting

♡ She was lost and had panicked a bit, as it reminded her of past unpleasant events in the forest (you probably know what I'm talking about)

♡ but then she sees you

♡ Your hair flies like leaves in the wind and you seem to interact with nature in such a natural way

♡ Aredhel immediately noticed that you weren't using any enchantments, which put her at ease

♡ The sight of you made her relax a little, and for a while she just looked at you and tried to calm down further

♡ At some point, however, you noticed her and smiled at her

♡ You two didn't say much to each other during this first encounter

♡ You just showed her the way out of the forest (most of the elves from Mirkwood and some from Imladris had settled in this forest) and exchanged a few nice words with her

♡ But soon she came looking for you in the forest and so you meet again and again

♡ Aredhel seeks out affection by resting her head on your shoulder or holding your hands in hers

♡ Most of the time your encounters end with you lying in a tight embrace on the forest floor or leaning against a tree while you talk about anything and everything

♡ Sometimes you meet at night and climb up into the branches of big trees where you look at the stars together

♡ You tell her a lot about the stars and their light, as the wood elves have accumulated a lot of knowledge about them

♡ It is also on such an evening under the stars that she tells you how she feels about you

♡ It takes a long time for Aredhel to admit this to herself, as she is afraid of commitment after all that had happend, but she has finally realised that she no longer has to hide from her feelings for you as you would never use them against her or hurt her

♡ However, she wants you to take things slowly

♡ Firstly, she wants you to get to know Maeglin because he's her son and she wants you to get along too

Maeglin is a little sceptical at first, but only because he doesn't want his mother to get hurt again, but soon you get on well and he starts to treat you like a member of the family

♡ You often go hunting with Aredhel and Celegorm and soon he and Curufin are good friends of yours too

♡ Aredhel immediately gets along with Legolas, your brother, as they both like to use bows and arrows as weapons and can exchange ideas about different techniques

♡ She's getting braver in your relationship and now sometimes sneaks to your bedroom window at night to spend a few extra hours with you

♡ She weaves you a bracelet out of flowers when she asks you if you want to court her - you immediately agree, of course

♡ Later, she replaces the flower bracelet, which you were still wearing despite the withered flowers, with a metal one she had asked Curufin to make

♡ Afterwards, you begin to exchange more tender touches, as Aredhel is now ready to go further in your relationship

♡ When you meet her family for the first time, you are very nervous as you have heard a lot about them, but they all like you very much

♡ Especially Fingolfin and Anairë, as they are happy that Aredhel has finally found someone she really loves, you get on best with Argon, though, and you become best friends

♡ When you introduce Aredhel to your father Thranduil for the first time, he is a little sceptical, but your mother likes Aredhel immediately and welcomes her with open arms

♡ When you finally get married and sleep together as a result, she is very gentle and you spend the whole next morning cuddling together

♡ Your wedding took place in the part of the forest where you met for the first time

♡ For your wedding, Oromë gave you a big brown dog (slightly smaller than Huan) who accompanied you two everywhere from then on

♡ the Valar offer Aredhel and you, if you want, that they would give you two another child (because you practically adopted Maeglin at this point)

♡ Over time, Thranduil also warms up more and more and at some point tells you and Aredhel how happy he is that you have each other (he was just afraid that his daughter's heart would be broken) - he and Aredhel even become good friends after a while

♡ And so your life in Valinor with your wonderful family went on peacefully, and every day was a new adventure with Aredhel by your side

[feanor]

eight people i’d like to get to know better

tagged by @silmarlis, thank you!!

i. name/alias monica

ii. birthday november 11th

iii. zodiac sign scorpio

iv. height idk like 5’6” and a half?

v. hobbies swimming

vi. favourite colour light blue

vii. favourite books the silmarillion - j.r.r. tolkien, aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe - benjamin alire saenz

viii. last song listened to high five - sigrid

ix. last film watched mary poppins returns

x. inspiration for muse the only meaning of the word ‘muse’ that i understand is the muses of greek mythology so i really don’t know what this means

xi. dream job author or human rights lawyer

xii. meaning behind your url i’m so glad you asked! fingolfin, or ñolofinwë, was the first son of finwë and his second wife, indis. he followed his half brother, fëanor, to beleriand after morgoth killed their father. after fëanor’s death, his son maedhros abdicated the crown in fingolfin’s favour. he was high king of the ñoldor until his death in FA 456, the year in which he challenged Morgoth to single combat and wounded him seven times before being killed. fingolfin was married to anairë and they had four children: fingon, who became high king after his death, turgon, king of gondolin, aredhel, mother of maeglin and friend to the sons of fëanor and argon, who perished in the battle of lammoth

eight people that i want to get to know better: @himrings, @aredhels, @celcbrimbor (or at least i want to keep being ur friend james), @ereinixn, @glorfindels, @nancywhleeler, @arwensundomiels and @ketterdam!!

[outofangband]

Tolkien Moodboard masterlist

Just like my sensory board masterlist here, this will be added to so feel free to check the original when you want! This doesn’t include older moodboards I made which are less organized or nice.

Fingolfin and Rochalor (and death) Nonbinary/Abinary Fingon Sauron: Lord of Werewolves and Vampires Modern Day Yavanna  Modern Day Aulë Modern Day Varda Modern Day Manwë Modern Day Manwë and Melkor Rog Celebrian (as based on the headcanons of @dreamer-s--hideaway The Mercy of Manwë Avari Aesthetic Vanyar Aesthetic Teleri Aesthetic Noldor Aesthetic Sea Green Maglor  Eärwen Anairë Nerdanel Glorfindel Caranthir Curufin Celegorm Fëanárë (gender-bent Fëanor)  Modern Maedhros  Darker Modern Maedhros Fingon au one, two The Torture of Maedhros Egalamoth Autumn Maedhros Elrond Nessa Autumn Celegorm   Ilmarë Barad Eithel Rog x Glorfindel  Maedhros Post Angband  Húrin Morwen  Niënor Níniel Túrin Turambar Urwen (Lalaith) Rían Aerin I have my geography edits here!