#Gorgumoth

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Animal Companion

Every so often, it so happens that I'll write a Gen Fic. Here is one...

Not (as would be expected Huan, but another good boy)...Enjoy! (feat. Navëquen, my beloved)

Characters:Námo & Irmo & Gorgumoth

Words: 1 800

Warnings: /

“Here boy,” Námo called softly and smiled upon hearing the discreet footfalls, announcing the arrival of his most loyal companion.

“How are the souls?” he asked, patting Gorgumoth’s massive head tenderly while he gobbled up the treats his master was holding out to him in an invitingly extended palm. “Have you kept them in line?”

In a completely unexpected show of innocence and delight, the thus questioned being flopped onto its back and presented its soft, furry belly to the long, spindly fingers of the Lord of Mandos to welcome the congratulatory rubs and scratches that were undoubtedly deserved.

Both the Lord of the Halls of Waiting and his pet were a mystery to many—few were those who could glimpse even a fraction of their thoughts and motivations, and even fewer knew the true story behind the frightening creature at Námo’s ghostly heels.

The first thing that might have surprised those who knew little about the Fëanturi was that Gorgumoth was very much real. He was neither shadow nor dream—he was as substantial as Navëquen and just as vicious if need be.

The second was how much honest love and devotion there was between master and beast, and how much they relied on each other in their daily lives.

“How do you feel about visiting my brother?” Námo suddenly asked in a serious tone, trusting that the huge, dark canine would communicate his opinions unequivocally. “It has been a while.”

They were both easily absorbed by their work, and thus it made sense for them to also share some much-deserved time-off in another, less dismal environment with cheerier company than the ever-moaning dead.

Gorgumoth wagged his heavy tail twice, his ears perking up, and it seemed to Námo that his watchful gaze instantly grew brighter with enthusiasm.

This was to be expected, after all, it had been Irmo who had first brought the pup into the Halls of Mandos, swearing that Gorgumoth was a perfectly well-behaved being that would never gnaw on Vairë’s thread or tear Námo’s slippers to shreds.

Irmo, as was his wont when he saw fit, had blatantly lied.

“You need a friend—for companionship and succour—and I, as your loving sibling, have brought you this fluffy fellow for that exact purpose,” the Lord of Dreams had chirped, and—suspecting his sister’s, as well as his sister-in-law’s involvement—Námo had been patently unable to refuse.

Of course, Irmo had remembered how tender and loving his older brother had been to him during his own youth, and so it made sense for him to suspect that Námo was secretly yearning for someone to care for, who had not yet been traumatised by the ordeal of their demise.

At that time, Gorgumoth had been but a tiny ball of fur with huge, luminous eyes, and—even though he would never have admitted it—Námo had been devoted to him from that very first meeting on.

“His name is Gorgumoth,” Irmo had explained, “and he’s a chipper pup. He won’t mind the gloomy atmosphere and your sour mood—he just wants to be fed and loved. I know you can do that, but I feel as if you’re slowly forgetting about these strengths of yours—and I cannot let that happen.”

Thus, it had all begun, and from that moment onward, Námo was rarely seen without the ever-growing beast, following him around with the loyal admiration only dogs were ever capable of.

Bestial Maiar were always a risk, that was a universally known and brazenly disregarded truth amongst the Valar, and—after some reflection—the Lord of the Dead had judged himself just as capable and deserving of adopting and managing one of these potential catastrophes as any of his colleagues.

There was no actual time in Mandos, but Gorgumoth had grown bigger and stronger continually. To his master’s astonishment, nobody seemed to object to the muddy paw prints and the dusting of hair that consistently ruined the ephemeral, ethereal aesthetic of ever-shifting minimalism Námo usually favoured.

From that lack of protestation, Námo had soon deduced that more than just his brother had deemed him overly morose and lonely. At first, it had certainly stung his pride to realise that his friends and family had concocted the absurdly clumsy creature to palliate his isolation, but—in time—the undeniable solace the pup gave him far outweighed his petty misgivings.

“You are such a good friend,” he now said and bent down to breathe an insinuated kiss onto the dog’s brow. “Irmo really is much wiser than I give him credit for.”

Gorgumoth looked up at his Lord with twinkling eyes that seemed to say, “Of course, haven’t you raised us both?”

“No,” Námo laughed. “No, my friend, you’ve been much more obedient and eager to learn than that flighty fool has ever been.”

Indeed, Gorgumoth had—from the very start—been dutiful to a fault. Even in his earliest youth, when his paws had been too big and round to manoeuvre successfully across the polished floors of flickering grey, he had endeavoured to please and delight Námo at every opportunity he got.

He was a diligent guard dog and a skilled shepherd, making sure that all the souls in their keeping were accounted for and that none wandered off by mistake or by rebellious intent.

His undeniable, relentless competence had soon gained the respect if not the affection of the other Maiar under Námo’s care, and Gorgumoth knew exactly who to seek out for an extra treat or a good cuddle.

Even those who were not inordinately fond of his shaggy fur and wordless communication eventually came to tolerate him as a colleague of sorts—as a matter of fact, the fur-covered guardian of the Halls quite enjoyed Navëquen’s taciturn company, for example, whenever his shift had been extraordinarily wearying.

He was happy in the Halls of Waiting, he was comfortable in Vairë’s workshop, and he loved visiting Námo’s siblings, because Irmo was much more playful than his own master and occasionally threw him a stick or a ball, and Nienna gave the indisputably best cuddles.

In a word, Gorgumoth deemed himself the happiest creature in all of Eru’s creation, which did not prevent him from nudging his master’s long, shapely legs encouragingly now—he had been promised an outing, and he was eager to set out.

Obedient to a fault, Gorgumoth sat down prettily and made the evanescent ground beneath him tremble by drumming his tail against it rhythmically.

“Yes, I miss him too,” Námo admitted and shrugged. “Let’s go visit Irmo then—I am very much looking forward to his newest stroke of genius when it comes to gently manipulating everyone into doing things only he’ll find amusing.”

Gorgumoth would never have disobeyed or deserted his master, so there was no need for leashes or collars as they walked silently towards the gardens of Estë.

“Námo,” she cried as soon as she saw her brother-in-law appear like a threatening but profoundly welcome raincloud on a bright day. “And if that is not my good boy!”

Instantly, a juicy treat materialised in her hand, and she threw it high into the air to see Gorgumoth leap after it.

Her laughter felt like a soothing caress against Námo’s raw, overtaxed nerves, and—without noticing or consciously deciding to do so—he smiled as well.

“Oh, you two are good for one another,” Estë declared, evidently congratulating herself on the stroke of genius she seemed to consider herself to have been a part of. “My husband should be around here somewhere—he will be so happy to see both of you.”

Nodding patiently, the Lord of Despair and Desolation could not help but be cheered by her boundless joy; Estë was a healer to the very depths of her core, and nothing gladdened her heart more than seeing alleviating and mending measures in action, especially if those blessings were then shared and passed on.

It took a moment before he realised that Gorgumoth had not returned, and he was about to whistle when he descried his very own sister, walking beside the huge dog and talking to it softly.

Námo was not sure which of the two seemed more consoled by the other’s presence, but he decided not to interrupt their intimate conclave.

There were things he did neither know nor understand about either of these wonderful, mysterious, merciful beings, and he accepted this as a rare shortcoming of his own with all the noble humility of one who was usually right.

“Brother!” Irmo’s form coalesced out of a quickly approaching cloud of iridescent pollen dust and paper-thin mothwings. “How have you been? What an immense pleasure to see my two favourite sharp-fanged jailors here. I trust you are not in need of healing yourself?”

“In a way,” Námo replied and melted into his youngest sibling’s expected and hoped-for embrace with stoic passivity. “It was time.”

“Are you checking on me, or did you merely miss the endless treats and sweetmeats my wife and sister will conjure up for their guests of honour?” Irmo teased without letting go of the tall, lithe frame he was holding as tightly as he could.

“Nienna visits me often,” Námo grumbled. “I am thankful for her company, and I would never stoop so low as to demand or expect any kind of present.”

“Evidently, your dog does not share your high-minded sense of haughty independence,” Irmo laughed and pointed at Gorgumoth who was in the process of being thoroughly spoiled by the afore-mentioned Valiër. “You should take his example—I seem to recall that only this morning, my wife has brought fresh fruits, given by Yavanna’s grace, which she has not dried into a poultice or turned into a tea. Could nothing seduce you off your path of righteousness? Not even a pie made by my dear spouse and infused with my best wishes?”

Mellowing at Irmo’s charming coaxing more than the actual allure of the pastries, Námo gave an exaggerated sigh. “In the name of collegiality and loyalty—for he is ever faithful to me—I shall not cut short Gorgumoth’s well-deserved enjoyment. You may lead me to those liberally commended baked goods, and I shall follow meekly.”

Irmo shook his head indulgently, threw his arm around his brother’s shoulder, and pulled him towards the small table in the shade of an old Weeping Willow resolutely—he had known and loved Námo for too long to believe even for a single second that the stuffy, old curmudgeon objected to any part of this situation in the least.

Seeing his master move away, Gorgumoth gave a short huff of alarm and then bounded after the swirling clouds of darkness and dreams with joyful anticipation, leaving the Ladies chuckle indulgently at his shenanigans.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

[cilil]

so I have a bunch of headcanon/imagine ideas in my drafts that I want to write sometime -

[melestasflight]

For those curious about this topic, at some point I took a shot at exploring 'the call of Mandos' through Celegorm's POV after the Sack of Doriath.

The In-Between (1159 words)

Featuring Celegorm, Aztec mythology, and dogs.

What if the Halls of Mandos is not an actual, tangible place but a walling off of the fëa? Disembodiment where the spirit exists houseless in that somewhere that's nowhere in particular?

The tapestries of Vairë as threads of deeply-encoded memories? Those moments of lived experiences that have shaped the spirit even beyond its corporeal form?

Nahuatl has a word for this strange 'in-betweenness' - nepantla - a liminal space that is neither here nor there. A space occupied by those that find themselves between two cultures, two states of mind, two states of the body. Something undefined, unfinished. Nepantla is not necessarily painful but almost always challenging.

The fëar occupy nepantla, somewhere between Middle-earth and Valinor, between the living and the dead. Some wander forever.

But when the fëa is healed, and the tapestry is woven, the walls crumble, the Halls open, and the spirit returns to a body. It finds a home again.

[doodle-pops]

My Sweet Kitty

Námo x reader

A/N: My first ever fluffy Námo fic since I post a bunch of headcanons for him. I know I don’t write much for the Ainur in terms of fics (apart from Eönwë), so I hope this can be a start.

Warnings: none, fluff, humour

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: You attempt to convince Námo of his feline qualities.

“You know, for someone who has a dog, you radiate a feline persona.”

Your words lingered in the air, suspended like taut strings on the brink of snapping, as you awaited a reaction from your solitary audience. Abruptly, Námo turned his head sharply, his gaze ready to unleash a torrent of his pent–up irritation in response to your comment about his personality. While he had grown accustomed to his siblings’ jibes and prods, ever since love happened to him, this peculiar emotion he sensed in your words struck him deep. It nestled in his chest, a discomfort that resonated in his ears, a subtle insinuation that his persona was unappealing.

His gaze bore into you, his expression a canvas painted with a myriad of unsaid thoughts, as you chuckled and affectionately patted his dog’s head. Watching as your laughter unfurled as you sat on the floor for reasons unknown, he couldn’t help but perceive a certain angelic quality about you. Yet, the ache in his heart remained, uncertain whether your words were intended as an insult or a compliment.

“What,” he began, pausing to draw in a deep breath before continuing, “do you precisely imply by labelling me a ‘cat person’ instead of a ‘dog person’?” His viridian eyes remained fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze drilling into your consciousness, as he awaited your laughter to subside and for you to respond to his pressing query.

Clutching your stomach, consumed by laughter, you were lost in a fit of reliving the scene repeatedly, momentarily forgetting his looming question. Even his dog, Gorgumoth, seemed captivated, nestled beside you, basking in the ripples of your amusement and the gentle head pats he received amidst the spectacle. It took five minutes of Námo’s impatient staring and his unwavering scrutiny for you to regain your composure, wiping a tear away before offering another comment. “Oh, dear, if only you could have witnessed your expression—the way your head whipped around, I could have sworn it was on the verge of snapping!”

Unimpressed by the lack of attention and cheerfulness in your response, Námo made another attempt to seek an answer to his inquiry. “Care to elaborate on the meaning of your statement?”

“Oh?” Your surprise was palpable, as his insistence on uncovering the concealed truths behind your words caught you off guard. Typically, he would have rolled his eyes or showcased his exasperation at your whimsical antics; after all, your hyperactive and eccentric nature stood in stark contrast to his reserved demeanour. “Well, um, it essentially signifies that your persona bears resemblance to the behaviour of a cat. Interestingly, people who exhibit such traits are often inclined to prefer cats over dogs due to the shared attributes.”

Námo’s gaze remained fixed on you, his viridian eyes still piercing with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. Your explanation seemed to have made some sense to him, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. His dog, still enjoying the attention you were providing, nuzzled closer to you as if to endorse your presence.

“So, you’re saying that my behaviour resembles that of a cat?” Námo inquired, his tone slightly incredulous.

You nodded, your laughter finally subsiding as you caught your breath. “Yes, that’s the gist of it. Cats are often seen as more independent, aloof, and sometimes a bit mysterious. And, well, you do have some of those traits.”

Námo’s expression didn’t change much, though you could detect a flicker of introspection in his eyes. He seemed to be mulling over your words, possibly reflecting on how he came across to others. “I suppose I can see the similarities,” he admitted reluctantly.

You grinned, glad that he was taking it in stride. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Cats are also elegant, and intelligent, and they have a certain air of mystery that’s quite intriguing.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, hinting at a small, rare smile. “You have a way of turning a potentially insulting statement into something...intriguing.”

“That’s my special talent,” you said with a wink. “But don’t take it too seriously dear. It was just a playful observation.”

Námo’s demeanour seemed to soften as he leaned back, his dog now fully sprawled out beside you. “I’ll keep that in mind. And for the record, I do appreciate both cats and dogs for their unique qualities.”

You chuckled. “Good to know. So, do you think you’re more of a cat person now?”

He rolled his eyes, but the hint of amusement in them was hard to miss. “Let’s not push it.”

“Aw, come on now Námo! There’s no harm in being considered as a cat,” you playfully whined as you removed yourself off the floor and strolled over to where he sat, draping yourself all over his shoulders. Lifting your finger to bump his nose, you grinned before kissing the tip and chuckled as he lazily blinked like a cat. “You know, cats are also known for saying, ‘I love you’ when they blink slowly. Tell me, was that a confession?”

Throwing you an exasperated look that screamed ‘Don’t push it,’ he unconsciously inched his head closer to your lips. It was a routine habit of his: deny enjoying or wanting kisses while pushing his head in for more. He was indeed your feline. “I have no idea what you speak of,” he softly muttered, still inching his head closer and staring at your lips.

“You’re not as smooth as you consider yourself to be, Námo.” You chuckled. “You’re displaying all the qualities of a kitty right now—so needy for a kiss.”

Your statement was the worst thing you could say to ruin the moment, and his head jerked away from your lips, facing front. Recomposing himself after the accidental slip–up, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and picked up his quill to resume his writing, as though nothing transpired between you two moments ago. He was indeed a kitten, getting all bashful and ignoring one’s presence after a confrontation. But you couldn’t resist dipping your head in to land a kiss on his cheek despite his low grumblings about you distracting him.

Leaning in, you whispered near his ear, “You’re more adorable than you realise.”

Námo’s cheeks flushed, and he coughed softly, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

You grinned mischievously. “It’s part of my charm. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll embrace your inner cat entirely.”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re pushing it.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @sakurayaxd @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link.

[ceescedasticity]

Discovered today that "Mandos in the early writings had a hound, Gorgumoth".

It's not glossed at all and is from early writings, but according to Neo-Sindarin vocabulary list…

gor -> "horror, dread, fear" or "to warn" or "hard, difficult"

gu -> "(together) with" [neologism based on phonetic evolution, but, whatever]

moth -> "dusk"

What I am getting from this is Námo named his dog "Dread-and-dusk". Based on what I understand to be conventional wisdom, a dog with such an ominous name is likely to be a total sweetheart [at least in a grooming or veterinary setting].

I therefore conclude that the reason Gorgumoth is not mentioned in other accounts of Mandos is that Gorgumoth turned out to be inadequate as a guard dog, was fired, and is probably asking for pets somewhere. Maybe he or she lives with Nienna now. Possibly under a different name.

[*Obviously I know the actual reason is Tolkien was moving away from the paganesque versions of the Valar, but this is more fun, so.]

Edit: I think the Quenya equivalents would probably be umbë, yó, lómë, so… Umbilómë, maybe? Haven't checked the phonetics.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

May I request Namo x reader and "i knew you would be here." and ❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜ - P.S. Love your writing!

"The terrors that lurk behind the shadows"

Pairing: Námo x Reader (Human /Second person POV)

Themes: Some Violence | Soft ending

Warnings: Mild violence

Word count: 700

Summary: Exploring the halls of awaiting on your own lands you in a spot of trouble.

Rules and tag form here.

Minors DNI

The halls seemed to go on forever. Blue and purple lamps threw out beams of light onto polished black stone walls and floors, and high, vaulted ceilings, scattering the gloom. There were neither carpets here nor sweet-smelling rushes. A thick layer of soft moss served instead. The air stirred with spirals of smoke rising from the incense burners that dotted the halls. You took a deep breath. It was light and fragrant and pleasant, and guaranteed to soothe the weary fëa.

You walked on, taking in everything your eyes rested on. Scenes of heroes and villains, creatures that were both beautiful and terrifying, had been carved into stone. Tapestries depicting the history of Arda hung from hooks on the walls. You stopped by one tapestry, one that depicted the great music. You stepped closer, silently, hesitantly, to admire it. You reached out and touched it. The wool was so soft against your fingers. You inched closer, your eyes filling with wonder.

The air chilled in an instant. Someone, no, something, leaped out of the shadows and grabbed you by the arms, flinging you against the wall and knocking the breath right out of you. You had no choice but to look your captor in the eye. They were one of the fëar that dwelled in the halls until the time came for them to leave for their rebirth, but it all felt wrong somehow. This fëa's eyes blazed with violence and anger. Its grip was so cold that it nearly burned your skin. You tried to run, to scream. Your feet turned to lead. Your screams died in your throat. Sheer terror ate at your insides. The fëa drifted closer, and you could feel their breath against your cheek. It reeked of rotten meat and rusted metal and made you feel ill. Its grip on your arm tightened. You shook, fearing the worst.

A growl, low and menacing, echoed along the corridor and made the walls themselves vibrate. That growl grew louder and louder and the fëa quailed at the sound. Before you could even register what was going on a shadow rushed at you and flung your captor to the ground. The sudden rush of blood into your veins was excruciating and you fell to your knees, your arms throbbing from the pain. The fëa trembled violently as that shadow stood before it and started to take form. It disappeared into the darkness, as if to hide.

"You should not have walked these corridors on your own, little raven." The shadow came over to you. The hands that grasped you under your arms and helped you up were strong and cool, but so gentle. You did not have to look up to know who it was. You did not have to open your eyes to know the source of the growls. Gorgumoth whined and rubbed up against you. It made you feel safe.

"Who was that?" you asked after enough time had passed and Námo took full form.

"One of the Noldor, and one of the worst." He lifted you into his arms and carried you on the way back. "He was involved in the first kinslaying and his crimes could never be uttered aloud. He can never leave these halls or even go beyond the borders of this corridor." Námo gave you a measured look. "Why were you even here, little raven? I thought I asked you not to explore these corridors on your own."

"You were all busy, and I did not want to disturb any of you." Námo's refusal to talk about that fëa's crimes gave you pause and filled you with fresh fear. "Are there more like him?"

"Many of the fëar are good, little raven." Námo's gaze cut to your arms. Large, angry bruises had begun to form. He decided to take you straight to your shared chambers and tend to it himself. He also decided to have a quiet word with his Maiar, about them watching over you whenever he was busy. He dreaded what could happen the next time you wandered into the halls without protection. "Alas, there are just as many that are not. But do not fear; they cannot go beyond the corridors they have to call home."

It filled you with relief. "How did you find me?"

Námo waited till he had you out of the halls and in the main courtyard. "I set Gorgumoth after you," he said, smiling at the hound that followed him everywhere. "Finding you was easy after that."

"My heroes," you said, kissing him softly on the cheek, "I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. And saving me."

Námo beamed. His chest puffed up in pride. "Anytime, little raven."

Tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @fictionfordays @edensrose

[edensrose]

Námo being an absolute dog dad with his "puppy' gorgumoth who stands at FIFTEEN FEET TALL

[cilil]

Time to rec some fics again! Sadly I didn't get to read much this week, but I'd like to recommend a few favorites from @i-did-not-mean-to's November series:

Funeral. A lovely introspective and emotional oneshot featuring Námo, Haleth and Caranthir... as well as a little surprise concerning Erestor.

Secret Meeting. Eönwë x Gothmog my beloved! This oneshot manages to be sexy, funny and a little bit sad at the same time and comes with a fun twist at the end too. Highly recommend!

Starry Night. The Elder King and his Queen try something new, coached by none other than the Master of Desire himself. A spicy look into the relationship of Manwë and Varda with a side of Irmo - love it!

Wandering Spirits. A truly interesting and unique take on the prompt, as well as a wonderfully emotional and heartbreaking oneshot featuring Nerdanel and Anairë dealing with the loss of their families.

Animal Companion. Let's end on a fun and cute one, shall we? In this one we get dog dad Námo with Gorgumoth and some family fluff. I love them all so much! Good boy Gorgumoth!

My dear IDNMT, you're a delight. Thank you for everything you do💜

Happy Friday, Fellowship! 💛

Fic recs are the best way to help promote someone else’s works! Find some of your favorite fics, they could be WIPs, completed, old, new, whatever you want to share, and rec at least (1) of them for us and your followers to see! Who knows, it might just be the fic someone out there is looking for!

Bonus: tag the author (if possible) and share with us why you are recommending this fic!

[wanderingcotabussurgetank]

Gorgumoth by ChrisNazgul

[melkors-big-tits]

Gorgumoth design for TRSB <3 This is the good boy Gorgumoth who patrols Mandos' halls <3 Mind you this is the very first attempt at drawing dogs but I think he came out rather nice

At least he has the things I was going for which are Borzoi features, double ears, elegant eyes and mist like fur~

You can read the Lovely fic here but be warned for it is Very NSFW:

[i-did-not-mean-to]

NaNoWriMo 2023

Here are the prompts for this month!

🍂🍂November🍂🍂

𝑀𝒾𝓈��𝓎 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - Ori x OC for husband

𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - Námo & Melkor & Fëanor (aka Moggy and Feener get a candle)

𝐵𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉 - Aulë x Yavanna (because of this art by @elanna-elrondiel)

𝒥𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁/𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Caranthir x Finrod for @dreamychaos

𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒟𝒶𝓎 - Ori (because @elanna-elrondiel did this to me)

𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 - Glorfindel x reader for @elanna-elrondiel

𝒯𝑒𝒶 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 - Elrond & Galadriel (because I am terrible at gen!fic)

𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 - Russingon for @thatfeanorian

𝒲𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 & 𝒱𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈 - Fëanor x Fingolfin, Turgon x Finrod for MoonLord

��𝓊𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁/𝒞𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎 - Haleth (because she's queen)

𝒮𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒞𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈 - Glorfindel & Legolas x Gimli, Glorfindel & Elrond + kids, Glorfindel x Erestor for my various servers

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝑀𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Firebird for @cilil

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 & 𝑅𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓈 - Russingon with art by @the-red-butterfly

𝒲𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓅𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓈 - Nerdanel (to process stuff in my life)

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - Varda x Manwë & Irmo

𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈/𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 - Vampire!Elrond for @maglor-my-beloved

𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓉 - Halenthir for @elentarial

𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝐿𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 - Kíli x F!reader for @fandomfaeryreads

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂𝓈 - Ulmanwë & Celegorm/Aredhel

𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃 - Amras x Finarfin x Argon

𝑀𝓎𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒫𝑜𝓃𝒹/𝑀𝒾𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓇 - DaeMags because of this art by @elanna-elrondiel)

𝒜𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 - Námo & Gorgumoth

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈𝑔𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Ñolofinwë & his descendants for anon

𝐹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 - Bagginshield for @lordoftherazzles

𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝓅𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 - Celegorm x Eöl for the server. (Dark!💀 mpreg)

𝐹𝑜𝑔���𝓎 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 - Caranthir x reader (because of this art by @sortumavaara)

𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝐿𝒾𝑒𝓈 - Gondolin OT3 for @jaz-the-bard

𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 - Elenwë x Turgon x Finrod for @elentarial

𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 - Fingon and the seven dwarves Fëanorians for MoonLord

𝒮𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇 - Varda x Nienna, Eärendil & Elrond & Maglor

As always, I'd be happy and honoured to get requests for pairings and ideas from you all!

Lots of love!

Explanation: in red the nsfw, in orange fluff, in green dark (and nsfw) fics, blue for sadness

[cycas]

Cats, Gorgumoth!

I made this for the Scribbles and Drabbles event by @fall-for-tolkien.

The halls of Mandos have been invaded by cats! As cats do, they turn up all over the place and seem to be able to walk through the walls, which Námo considers most unruly of them.  

Fortunately, Námo has a dog, and Gorgumoth is going to do his very best to restore order! Here and there in the background are some elf-spirits. They might be canon characters: we may find out if anyone picks this one to write for.

[melestasflight]

Well, I confiscated every cat art from the Scribbles & Drabbles @fall-for-tolkien gallery, including Beruthiel's Tenth Spy by @anerea-lantiria, @cycas's Cats, Gorgumoth!, and @oak-hawthorn's The Adventures of Tevildo.

They resulted in this miniature story of Tevildo's many rebirths. Here's to the Prince of Cats! A character that deserved so much more! 😼

[the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur]

New puppy!!!

Alright. So. Last week, I saw a post about Namo having a dog. AND IT BECAME STUCK IN MY HEAD!!! Anyway, I did some research but there is mostly nothing on him, except his name and the fact that he was guarding the place Melkor was locked in.

So, I did what any bored person in class would do, I thought up some headcanons about him!

° He was supposed to serve Irmo, but prefered the quiet of the Halls instead.

° His everyday job mostly consists in gathering lost souls, a bit like a shepherd dog.

° But if you see him on a battle field, this is never a good omen, for it means there will be lots of dead people.

° Like all dogs, scratches behind the ears are very goooood

Anyway, in fanfic there is often references to stained glass panel as decoration, so here is the death puppy on one!!!

[ainurmoodboards]

The Animal Ainur

There are multiple mighty beasts that show up in Tolkien’s writings, and their exact role in the hierarchy of Arda changed over time. They are usually much larger than normal members of their species, and some of them are able to speak. At one stage in Tolkien’s works, these characters were seen as Maiar who had taken an animal instead of humanoid or elvish appearance. An example of this is a quote regarding the eagles from an early version of The Silmarilion that states:  “Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world.”

Similarly, a quote relating to the hound Huan says:

“As the Valar would robe themselves like the Children, many of the Maiar robed themselves like other lesser living things, as trees, flowers, beasts.”

The problem with the concept was that Thorondor of the eagles and the steed Nahar had descendants, and Tolkien had already decided that the Ainur (with the exception of Melian) wouldn’t have children. So it was decided that while these special creatures were empowered by the Valar with special gifts, they were still creatures, and didn’t have souls/spirits like the Ainur and the Children of Illuvatar. 

Characters in this post are:

Huan, the Hound of the Valar

Thorondor (also called Sorontar), the King of the Eagles

Nahar, the Steed of Oromë

Uin, the Oldest of Whales

Gorgumoth, the Hound of Mandos

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Pairing: Fëanor x Námo

Themes: Angst

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: After passing onto the Halls of Awaiting, Fëanor hopes for an audience with the Vala who loved him once.

A/n: Words in italics are for communication via osanwë.

Turn of the moon – a full lunar month.

This post was inspired by this little exchange in the tags between @cilil and myself.

Rules and taglist form here.

The great hall and throne room were painted to look like the vastness of the night sky. Tiny blue and white jewels all over the domed ceiling glittered with a light of their own. Fëanor had walked—no—flitted from hall to hall until he reached the vast and cavernous chamber his lover favored when meeting the fëar of those that awaited judgment. 

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. The jewels were of his making and given as a gift. He remembered Námo's smile when he walked in and saw them glittering like stars. It was a rare and beautiful thing. Fëanor treasured that memory dearly.

My lord Fëanor. Nienna had come up behind him. The Valië of mercy, pity, and mourning was all shimmering silver mist. She did not take on a physical form in her brother's halls. Not unless the occasion demanded it. You have come to this hall yet again.

And I will do so again and again, most gentle lady, Fëanor said softly and respectfully. Nienna was beloved by her brothers, and they would not take kindly to any insult to her person. And Fëanor did not wish to add to the miseries already plaguing him. Until lord Námo is ready to receive me. I have to try, my lady. I have to try for another chance.

The air around him stirred. Nienna drifted closer. The mist shifted as if it was taking form. Fëanor felt something warm and comforting caress his cheek.

He does not wish to see you, she said tenderly. Her voice was as soft as a kiss and tinged with great sorrow. Not now. Not ever. My brother cannot bring himself to forget what you did. He will never forgive you for what you did. He does not wish to give you another chance. Not even I could sway his thoughts on this. I am so sorry.

There is no need to apologize, my lady. The fault is all mine. Fëanor turned his attention back to the throne room. Námo looked resplendent in the inky black and violet robes he wore. A silver circlet crusted with amethysts sat amidst a black hood. A sheer grey veil concealed his face. His favorite hound, Gorgumoth, slumbered by his feet. But I must try.

Nienna accepted his choice. Then I will stay with you.

They stayed hidden and watched. Fëa after fëa drifted up to an imposing throne carved out of a single large block of black stone. Their words were barely louder than a whisper. Námo listened, patient as always, before pronouncing his verdict. Some accepted his words with gladness. Others grew mournful. Námo would counsel them before one of the Maiar that served him guided each fëa onto the Halls of Awaiting for cleansing and reflection. 

Time did not exist here. A turn of the moon could have come and gone and they would not have noticed. They waited and listened, watching as one fëa after another came and went. Námo seemed to tire. His veil fluttered, and his robes lifted and fell as if he was sighing. Fëanor stirred, hoping Námo was done and he could finally have an audience with him. Gorgumoth's ear twitched. He opened his eyes and sniffed at the air. The hound caught wind of something he did not like. He turned his attention to the shadows, where Fëanor and Nienna were. He lifted his head and bared his teeth, his growl echoing off the walls like thunder. The other fëar quailed at the sound.

Námo turned his attention to the shadows. He placed his hand on Gorgumoth's head. The hound quietened in an instant. 

"Beloved sister," the Vala called out into the dark. "You have a friend with you."

Nienna urged Fëanor to go with her. Make haste, she said, and pulled him with her as she drifted down the stairs. You will not receive another opportune moment like this.

Námo rose and made his way down the steps. Nienna changed her form and walked up to him, dipping into a deep curtsy when she reached the throne. Fëanor stood a few paces behind her. He did not hear what they were saying, but brother and sister looked at each other intensely. Námo made a sound of disgust and turned, his eyes filling with rage when they rested on Fëanor. The slain elf trembled and lowered his gaze out of fear and respect.

"Please, brother," Nienna pleaded softly. "All he asks is for a chance to talk to you. Please! For my sake."

Námo sighed softly. His fingers brushed her cheek as if he was wiping away a tear. "I never could deny you for long," he murmured, and removed his crown. "Very well. I will hear him out."

Nienna curtsied again. She took the crown off her brother's hands and went to several ornate chairs beneath the throne. When Fëanor raised his eyes, she already had taken a seat, the crown safely on her lap. It was a sign that while she acted on Námo's behalf, her verdicts did not carry the same weight as his. They could be overturned at any time. Námo's Maiar came to her. Gorgumoth silently padded over and stretched out beside her. The fëar peacefully formed another line, all waiting for her to hear them out.

"Walk with me, Fëanor, son of Finwë." Námo turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the throne room. Fëanor had little choice but to follow him through one silent corridor after another.

He wanted to weep. He trembled when he could not. There would be no tears, none came to fëar, but he mourned all the same. Fëanor, son of Finwë. That was what Námo called him. Once, in another life, it was "my own heart."

You tremble, Fëanor, son of Finwë. Námo did not turn or look over his shoulder. To do either was a sign of forgiveness, of a softening in his stance. Námo could not do that, no matter how much it pained him. And it did wound him more than words could say. Fëanor had been his other half once. Where Námo was stoicism personified, Fëanor brought with him every emotion imaginable. If Námo was the ice, then Fëanor was the inferno that threatened to burn the world to ash. And he nearly did. And Námo could not bring himself to forget or forgive. He looked straight ahead and tried to harden his heart. What troubles you?

You. Fëanor kept a steady gaze on Námo's broad back. He tingled when memories of that back trembling beneath his fingers came unbidden. I know I wounded you, and...

Wounded me? Námo whirled, his eyes ablaze with pain and black fury. Long-buried sorrow and rage bubbled to the surface. You dare speak of such a thing? You who stole and murdered and encouraged others to do the same? You who forgot what we meant to each other and shattered every hope, every dream?

And Námo was not done. I would have helped you. He touched the corner of his eye. There were no tears. What tears he had left were frozen in his heart. Had you come to me, I would have gone to the others, and we would have found a way. Why? He asked, his voice thick with sadness. Why did you not come to me? I know how much you loved your father. I know how much the silmarils meant to you. Even more than me, I think. 

Why indeed. It was a question that had plagued Fëanor for as long as he could remember. Why did he not go to Námo when Melkor murdered his father and made off with the Silmarils? Why did he not seek the aid of others instead of being consumed by his arrogance and need for vengeance? Fëanor did not have an answer. All he had was shame and sorrow and guilt engulfing him. Námo was right. Fëanor valued the silmarils even more than the love Námo bore him. He could not bring himself to look Námo in the eye. 

I wept for you. Námo looked into the distance, despair coursing through him like mighty waves when he caught glimpses of what could have been. Yes, he nodded when he sensed Fëanor's shock. I wept for you. Many were the tears that were shed, and how I mourned your fate, how it crushed me to pronounce your doom. Watching you spiral into a world of darkness and chaos was more than I could bear.

My own heart, Fëanor inched his way closer, slowly and respectfully. He stopped when Námo flinched and backed away. Through the veil, he could see Námo's countenance contorting in pain. Is there nothing I can do to take away your pain? There must be something, surely. Please tell me. For the love we bore each other...

Love. Námo said bitterly. He thought of what they had, of what could have been. He wanted to weep over a future that no longer existed and how it all pained him so. He had to end the conversation and leave, lest his frozen tears finally break free. I knew love. The love in your fierce heart, in the flames that burned bright within every fiber of your being. It warmed every ounce of my spirit and filled me with so much hope, a ray of light for me to grab onto even in the darkest of times. That light is hidden from my eyes now. The words came out like a strangled sob. I cannot see it, no matter how hard I try.

Fëanor reached out to him, his despair as keen as Námo's. So much had been destroyed, and by his own doing, no less. My own heart, I...

Never call me that again. Námo turned away just as the first bitter tear fell. And never seek me out again. We are finished.

Fëanor could only watch him leave, silently damning himself in the darkness that crept in after Námo's departure. 

 tags: @cilil​ @asianbutnotjapanese​ @fictionfordays​