#I need an edain tag

[whovianofmidgard]

Tagged by @thescrapwitch , thank you so much!

THE RULES: Make a poll with the titles of all your current WIPs. For whichever one wins, write 300 words and share a snippet if you want.

I'm gonna throw in some WIP titles I haven't even written anything for, 'cos after I'm done with the Silm Smut Week prompts I'll need to start on something new anyway.

no pressure tags: @meadowlarkx @thecoolblackwaves @dreamingthroughthenoise @jouissants @deadqueernoldor @glorf1ndel

[outofangband]

“Beleriand is wide and houseless for exiles...”

Morwen, The House of Bëor and the Trauma of Dagor Bragollach

updated post with more meta on the House of Bëor in general and links to other relevant posts.

Actually has been updated to read like a real post and not just rambling!

Related post on Morwen and Rían and the survival of traditions

My general tag for Bëorian cultural trauma is houseless for exiles  where I have a lot more rambling like this

So Morwen is obviously one of my very favorite characters in Tolkien’s world, in general  and she is in my opinion one of the most interesting figures in The Children of Húrin, though as she is separated from Túrin for so long there are long periods of her life we have only summaries on. I find these fascinating to speculate on and read/write about

I wrote this post while very tired so I hope this makes sense and is ok, I’ve definitely seen more eloquent meta on the subject, I just wanted to throw out some thoughts and I wanted to write more about the trauma her people went through during Dagor Bragollach

I want to make two posts on this, this one which is an introduction and some general thoughts then a second one that will go into more specific headcanons about how the trauma of the Bragollach manifests for Morwen.

The Battle of the Sudden Flame and the aftermath is such an important part of Morwen’s life that likely plays a significant part in shaping her character though it happens before the events of the book and is mentioned only briefly, much information needing to be found through inference and connecting details

The House of Bëor lived in Ladros in Eastern Dorthonion where Aegnor and Angrod, sons of Finarfin, lived and lead a defense of the Watchful Peace, maintaining a friendship with their Edain allies. Ladros was a cool land of pine forests and steep, craggily slopes that lay South of the great green fields of Ard-Galen and then of Angband and the regions of Morgoth.

On a cold winter night in the year 455 of the First Age, rivers of flames, many choked in poisonous fumes, were sent down from the Thangorodrim. These utterly devastated Ard-Galen turning it from the fertile, green lands to a desert made uninhabitable by the lingering clouds of toxic air. Next came a legion of balrogs with Glaurung leading them and a massive army of orcs that quickly invaded Dorthonion, killing countless elves and humans including Aegnor and Angrod, taking a large number captive and occupying and/or displacing the rest of the Bëorians. Barahir, the father of Beren led a group of outlaws including the fathers of Morwen and Rían. Their group was killed in a massacre by the lake Tarn Aeulin several years later after

(It’s likely Morwen knew nothing of this until she came to Doriath, if even then)

During the chaos of the invasion of Ladros, Emeldir, the mother of Beren fought to protect the children of the Bëorians, many if not most of whom had been orphaned. She managed to lead a group of refugees Southwest to Brethil where the Halidan took them in. Later, though there is not much said in the text about this, a small group of the surviving Bëorians would come to Dor-Lómin in Hithlum where the Hadorians lived. (Note: I have two posts speculating on their route, here and here)

Morwen was elven or twelve when Dagor Bragollach broke out, depending on when in the year her birthday is*. She was likely orphaned during the invasion though we know only that she was separated from her father who was later killed. She was among the Bëorian refugees who would come to Hithlum though her age at the time is unknown. There is so much that is unknown about her life before the events of the Narn.

I also spoke about this on a few different posts, but I’ve oft wondered if Morwen’s time in Brethil as a child was not a good one. Our glimpse into how some of the Haladin treat those who are mentally ill, neurodivergent or traumatized in The Wanderings of Húrin is a very bleak one and although this is certainly not representative of all the people of Brethil, this combined with parts of Morwen’s conversation with Húrin prior to the Nírnaeth leads me to believe she does not look at her time there with good feelings

Both the text of the Narn and Morwen herself describe her as an exile; one who has not only been forced to leave their home but who is forbidden from returning.

The word diaspora obviously comes to mind as well.

There is a bitter shame that bubbles beneath her cloak of pride, an unearned shame but one that has left its mark on her nonetheless (another thing I've mde way too many posts on tbh; her grief and pride are completley inextricable from each other, almost every line in the Narn mentioning her pride or her more severe qualities comes with the addendum that as much as it is directed at others, it is also directed at herself; "for Morwen was as stern with others as with herself", "she did not seek to comfort him any more than herself, etc")

That Morwen is a refugee in Dor-lómin is an important aspect of her character as is her likely trauma from Dagor Bragollach, how flames and armies drove her and her people from their home, killed so many of them, destroying their families and way of life.

It’s not difficult to speculate on the extent of violence that she witnessed and the horrific trauma she was barely old enough to understand. Eleven or twelve is such an age, just starting to understand your own identity and place in your family and community and culture and then to have that so brutally torn apart…

(I personally headcanon that she was injured in the Bragollach and had burn scars but that’s a different post)

I think her pride is very much tied to the fact that she is one of the only remaining members of the House of Bëor, a people who Morwen herself considers all but gone as she says to her husband in the first chapter.

I’m thinking about how this impacts her choice to remain in Dor-lómin after Nirnaeth, thinking that perhaps this time nothing short of another fiery inferno will drive her from her home. How she will not flee again (even as Rían, another of the few survivors, runs again and runs until she cannot get up).

And what’s on her mind when she speaks with Húrin before he leaves for Nirnaeth, how she believes her House to be fallen and fears Húrin’s following suit. The destruction of Hithlum would mean another home taken from her.

I’m also wondering about her significantly less optimistic view of the elves. While Húrin is heartened by the knowledge that the lords of the Noldor have known Valinor and the Valar themselves, Morwen thinks quietly of the exile of the Noldor from Valinor. Which also makes her being labeled elffriend (derogatory) and accused of power akin to theirs

“Húrin Thalion, this I judge truer to say: that you look high, but I fear to fall low.”

That Morwen lives in her own home under occupation for so long adds yet another painful irony to that quote.

“Beleriand is wide and houseless for exiles” is also just one of my very favorite spoken lines by Morwen. I just always feel so strongly that Morwen is not just talking about her hypothetical future there but also her here and now. Even in the safety of her own home and room (I always pictured that conversation as in their bedroom?) she is acutely aware that she will never return to where she grew up, that the place of her and her people in the world has been irrevocably changed. She is contemplating this ordeal being repeated and likely becoming more convinced that it will be. The sheer exhaustion alone of having to reckon with that…

I don’t think the parallels between Morwen and Túrin with regard to fleeing and being hunted or trapped and the ways these and the fear of them shape their lives are discussed enough

A lot of Túrin’s story is about exile. He is forced to flee his home and spends most of the story away from it, deprived of news of his loved ones and people for years at a time. When he does return it is temporary and he finds it unrecognizable.

Even his memories of home, of any home he makes, are clouded.

But his home is not Morwen’s, at least not in the same way. What he loses in Dor-lómin, Morwen has lost more than a decade before the events of the Narn.

Morwen escapes Glaurung twice and ends up in Brethil both times afterwards. Like not to put too fine a point on it but she has always been running and trying to escape the horrors of the past and also she lives in fear, a very real fear, of being forced out, forced to run, or else trapped and imprisoned. When she fears Thingol means to keep her in Doriath against her will, she tells him this fear is part of what made her delay going and I don’t think she is exaggerating in the slightest.

I am just never not obsessed with the themes of diaspora, exile, and persecution in The Children of Húrin.

Anyways I hope this is coherent and all. Hopefully I’ll say something more meaningful on this later. I love Morwen very much.

*as the year of her birth is from The Shaping of Middle Earth it is not considered strictly canon however it does match up with other timelines and events.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Writing patterns

thanks @demonscantgothere and @fraeuleinfriedhof for the tags! So sorry I took so long to get around to this!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Stranger in a new land London was a hive of activity, even while it was caught in the grips of a chilly autumn. 

Penance "You were all commanded to keep away from the exiled Children and the Edain, and you meddled still.” .

A brother's instructions “I hear you are to be wed.”

Poetry in bird song “Very beautifully spoken, my love.” 

A king's pity “O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!”

The first rains Yavanna was a friend, as dear to the Elder King’s heart as Varda and Ulmo.

Little prince A deep but welcomed hush settled within the lofty halls and vast chambers of Ilmarin.

Morifinwë The fourth son of Fëanor was whom Melkor sought first, much to Mairon’s dismay.

Weakening resolve Her captor was not spinning wild tales when he told her that she would be serving him in his bedchamber for as long as he wished and that she would serve him well.

Pet Finrod opened his eyes to a high, vaulted ceiling above him and a soft featherbed beneath him. 

Is there a pattern? Besides my starting a few of these with actual dialog, I have no idea.

No tags, but anyone is free to join in!

Some of the above fics are quite dark, so please do be mindful of the tags.

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Sea Glass

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Jg8m7Tf

by Anonymous

It was on his way back from the stables that another scent caught his attention over all the rest. He noticed it before he actually spotted the source. It made Gil-Galad grit his teeth. Sickly sweet and overpowering: pain and fear. He stopped in the courtyard, craning his neck, then pinpointed it: a little heap on the muddy cobbles, more meat than person. Skinny brown limbs tangled up like they’d been dumped there and hadn’t had the energy to rearrange. Vulnerable. Terrified. Not-quite-mannish…? That was a puzzle. Gil-Galad’s nose wrinkled. He stalked across the courtyard for a better look.

That was when he noticed the shape of the ears peeking out from the boy’s black, tangled hair. 

Gil-Galad and Galadriel get caught out in a storm after a skirmish during the War of Wrath and decide to take shelter in the nearest sketchy edain border town, where they stumble across someone in need of rescuing.

(Basially, we're taking the "when did we first meet?" "Seaside...you gave me water." tidbit from the show finale in the WORST possible direction.)

Words: 1810, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022) RPF, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: Gen

Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Ereinion Gil-galad, Galadriel | Artanis

Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond Peredhel & Galadriel | Artanis, Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur

Additional Tags: Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Sexual Slavery, Racism, Elrond and Elros are not doing okay, First Age, Kidfic, (kinda), Dehumanization, Mind the Tags, I mean it, AU: Elrond & Elros disappeared after Sirion (no kidnap fam), no beta we die like glorfindel, Forced Prostitution

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Jg8m7Tf

[unmeiokaemasu]

idk man practically the first thing that happens in FE4 is Midir nearly dying and Edain getting kidnapped, and I'm just such a sucker for the a lady and her knight trope...this banner just made me finally pick up my fe4 playthrough again, and I'm still incredibly bad at it and it was very stressful, but I was on chapter 4 where Edain can give her spouse a present and of course these two are married on my file and him saying "it still feels like a dream that we're married..." freaking KILLED me, ugh. (Also brutal that one of her other romance options is "friend who's on an enemy side but risks everything to get her to safety," her and Jamke is literally the only other ship I've cared about of course I have to pick only one...this game man)

(I started writing more in the tags and then it got to be too much)

I'm serious this game is so freaking stressful...my mounted units are all unpromoted except sigurd so I'm desperately trying to level them this chapter, I don't understand how I'm so far behind in leveling EXCEPT that I spent so much time pairing everyone and I didn't always pick optimal pairs for timing, so I'm desperately trying to marry off my last 3 bachelorettes, two of whom can move much further than their prospective partners. so a buncha folks are lagging behind flirting

oh yeah sylvia has the leg ring AND the knight ring, I love my dancers and this brings her up to the level of utility that Yuri is as a dancer in 3 houses, with so much movement and canto. the "dances everyone around her" thing is also cool but adds a level of calculation to movement that makes turns take an eternity. add on top of that that I'm trying to pair her with claud and it's almost more of a nuisance to have where she stands be so important. but man there is almost no better feeling than having a dancer who can zip onto a battlefield, refresh a bunch of units, and dive back under cover. the only better feeling is completing a dang turn without losing units or opportunities. I almost reset a turn because a pair who were dating didn't end up next to each other. I have a ton of stuff waiting at the pawn broker because the units who need it didn't have enough money even after arena-ing, so I'm weighing getting them back to the castle to buy shit once they've got the funds vs having them stay with the gang to fight/heal. All this consideration and I still feel like I've royally fucked up somehow, either by underleveling or not giving gold to the right people...but I really want to finish this game, it has to be doable

[marshmellin]

Simple Release

A.K.A Skirting the Laws and Customs of the Eldar for shameless smut with High King Ereinion Gil-galad, who deserves to just. get. laid.

Explicit content under the cut. Rated S for Smut, 1.6K words, Gil-galad x unnamed mortal woman, 3rd person POV.

Tags: Porn without plot, mortal woman's features not described in detail, no betrothals or intended or spouses, Gil-galad visits a "healing house"/brothel so therefore I guess anonymous sex?, no dialogue, oral male receiving, piv, minor cockwarming, no beta we die like Bronwyn

Inspired by a post from @valar-did-me-wrong, who is one of the funniest ROP text-posters around, IMO, check them out.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

//

Elves were not creatures driven by desire or lust. Elves were monogamous and their marriages were unbreakable, with oaths lasting beyond death. The Eldar could wed with simple vows in front of Eru. In fact, sex alone was enough for two Eldar to wed. 

But Elves are also naturally curious creatures. 

Over the Ages, their people had tested what — exactly — constitutes consummation of a marriage compared to simple touch. 

Pleasure.

Release. 

And when the race of Men were involved, the Eldar had learned vows were required. Coupling alone did not create a marriage. 

Well, the Eldar called it coupling. 

The Edain called it fucking. 

Though rarely discussed openly, elves viewed sex as a type of healing, especially for a people so war-weary; so many separated from their spouses for hundreds if not thousands of years. Or for those who had not yet found their life mate, or did not seek one, but desired intimacy.  

Some needs — releases — could not wait for Valinor.

And it was this that brought High King Gil-galad to a non-descript building in the southern ward of Lindon on a gray, rainy evening.  

He was not married. He did not seek to be married. He simply sought release. 

No…

He wanted to fuck. 

The fall of Eregion, the loss of so many, the burden to lead his people, the requirement to be formal and patient and wise. Burdens he wanted to set aside for the night. No crowns. No robes. No oaths.

 Just release for one night. 

The moment Gil-galad stepped into the storefront, he was no longer the High King of the Noldor. He was no longer even Gil-galad. 

Healers, so speak, were bound to confidentiality. 

It was as the Eldar had done for ages. 

He discretely filled out a small slip of parchment that contained their menu of services. He held himself back from checking every box.

It had been awhile since he came here last, and he felt pent up inside. 

A mere moment after handing the scrap of paper to the stoic elf at the counter, he was whisked to one of the rooms and told to make himself comfortable. 

The room was simple, a large bed in the middle, with a crackling fireplace and a comfortable chair. A small chest sat in the corner, and while Gil-galad knew the pleasurable items it contained, he had no plan to use them tonight. 

Quickly, he stripped his belt and tunic off, throwing them into a corner. His boots were next as he kicked them off. He was left standing, broad chest exposed, clad only in only a pair of breeches in front of the fireplace.  

As per his request — so formal — the mortal woman entered the room nearly naked, wearing nothing but a transparent, gauzy robe. She walked toward him, and stood for a moment, bathed in the light of the fireplace as his warm brown eyes studied every inch of her, hunger flashing across his face.  

She reached out first, both palms placed on his chest, her fingers splayed against him. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss as he reached to push the gauzy robe off her, making her bare to him. For him. 

She kissed back with the same ferocity, hands roaming across his chest, grabbing at broad, muscled shoulders to bring him closer, moaning as he trailed kisses from her rounded ears down the long column of her neck, tenderly nipping where her neck met her shoulder.

His hands settled against her hips as she worked at the laces of his breeches, tugging them down to expose his cock, already hard. She slowly sank to her knees, kissing his chest, muscled abs, working her way down to his cock. Finally on her knees, she moaned appreciatively, reaching out to stroke his him, taking his velvety length in her hand. Licking her lips, she put the tip of his cock in her mouth, warm tongue swirling against him. His hips bucked forward jerkily at the sensation, but she reached up to steady him, holding a hand against his hip. Pulling back, she kissed her way from his dark curls, up his throbbing shaft, to take his cock in her mouth once more, suddenly swallowing the length of him. He gasped, hands flying to the crown of her head as she moved her lips around him, her head bobbing. He bucked again, moaning, and she hummed in reply against his curls, his cock deep in her throat.

Moaning, he pulled his cock out of her mouth, and tugged at her shoulders, bringing her up for another bruising kiss. He shifted them to the wall, strong arms holding her up in place, caged against him. His thigh came up between her legs, helping to brace her. She moaned and began riding this thigh, arching into him, her pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest. He could feel how wet she was against his leg, how ready she was for him. 

Smoothly he hoisted her up again, moving her legs around his waist. His cock rubbed against her folds and he thrust between her thighs. Craning down, he took one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before gently nipping along the curve of her breast and lapping away the pain, trailing kisses down her collarbone as she whimpered.  

Her slick coated his cock, which throbbed in time with her as he gently bucked against her, teasing them both, almost-but-not-quite entering her, brushing her clit each time. She moaned again, bracing her legs around him tighter as her heel dug into his toned ass, bucking her own hips in time with his. 

Gil-galad growled, a deep sound in his chest that she could feel through her hands as he pushed himself off the wall, carrying her to the edge of the bed, laying her down gently. 

He paused for a moment, breathing heavily with lust, waiting to lower his own levels of arousal. 

He wasn’t ready to finish yet. 

He moved one of her legs up until it was almost hanging off his shoulder, pinning her hip down with a firm hand. He took his cock in the other, notching himself against her, swirling her slick around his tip. Slowly, he sank into her heat until he was fully buried inside her. Her leg slipped off his shoulder, wrapping lazily around his waist. She moaned and reared up to grab his neck, touching his forehead to hers. She panted with him for a moment and he willed himself to stay still inside her. 

Bringing a hand up, she caressed his jaw, tilting his face up to capture his lips with hers. His tongue chased hers as the kiss deepened, fighting for control. She clenched against his cock and he moaned into her mouth, twitching inside her. Falling back against the bed, her hair haloing around her, she clenched again in time with her thighs, rocking him forward as she writhed against him. 

Gil-galad groaned again, his hands running down her sides, fingertips brush against her damp curls. Shaking his long hair out of his eyes, he pinned her hip in place again, broad fingers splaying towards her abdomen. He started thrusting into her, slowly at first, letting her grow accustomed to the stretch of him. She clenched again and rolled her hips up, her heels digging into his ass, moaning, inviting him, a pleading note in her tone.

He thrust deeper, pulling his cock nearly out of her before slamming into her with another groan. He lifted her leg to his shoulder again, hand pressing against her abdomen. She rolled against him in time, meeting him as he hammered into her. Eyes roving over her body, he took in her sweat-drenched reddened skin, her firm breasts bouncing with each thrust eyes half-lidded with lust as she chased her own high. 

Changing his angle and slowing his rhythm, Gil-galad hit that…perfect…spot inside her and she sang for him, crying out and gripping the sheets as she arced up, keening loudly. Hand reaching between them, his thumb found her clit, still slick, and he swirled around her firmly, giving her the pressure she sought. 

She sang for him again, her walls spasming around him as she found her release in pulsating waves. Her loud moans sent him over his own edge, hips snapping into her erratically as his cock throbbed. He spilled inside of her with a stuttering groan. 

Gil-galad fell forward against her, spent, sweat cooling on his back and his chest heaved, his breathing still uneven. Her legs had slipped down around his waist again and she brought her hands to his long hair. Nails gently scraping against his scalp, she played with his hair again as he still laid her, cheek against her chest. 

After a few moments, he pulled out of her as she sighed softly, missing the warmth of him. He pulled himself up to lay on his back, and threw an arm out, inviting her to join him. 

She laid down next to him, a leg hitched over his thigh, drawing lazy patterns in his chest, soft fingers working their way to play with his hair once more. Settling against him, she sighed again, warm breath fanning across his chest. 

He looked up at the ceiling feeling thoroughly relaxed. 

Tomorrow morning he will be Gil-galad once more. He will wear his crown, and the burden of all the choices he must make will weigh on him. 

But tonight…tonight, he was just an unknown, thoroughly fucked-out elf who had finally found release. 

//

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

[theoppositeofprofound]

Were I to do one of those About Me pages there would be no ships, fandoms, or controversial opinions, just a big banner reading IF MY BODY DID NOT PREVENT ME FROM PURSUING A RESIDENCY I MAY VERY WELL HAVE TRIED TO BE AN OB-GYN AND YOU WILL SUFFER THROUGH THE OCCASIONAL INFORMATION SESSION ABOUT CROSS CULTURAL MIDWIFERY (all apologies for the xenobiology speculation and general ick factor)

[ruiniel]

Brittle and Brief

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Aegnor, Andreth

Relationship: Aegnor/Andreth

Count: 1.9k

Rating: T

Tags & Warnings: Oneshot, First Age, Edain, Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Dorthonion, Elves and Men, Beleriand, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Confessions, Longing, Pining

Also on AO3

Summary:

Oneshot of Aegnor and Andreth by the shore of the Aeluin. AU-ish

AN: my first ever fanfiction on these two, written in 2019. Much gloom, beware the reader whiplash from the change in POV

Shadow descended upon the highlands of Dorthonion, and the host dwelling in the foothills.

Journeying from Nargothrond where his rule stood, Finrod Felagund had come to meet his kin. The Siege was long begun and now, steady of foot, he went seeking for his brother. He shook his head upon seeing that light still burned within the confines of the tent.

“It is late,” he greeted as the chill wind followed him through the flaps at the entrance.

Another Elf stood there before a large table, poring over scrolls of reports and maps. “The Moringotto never rests,” came his reply, his eyes still on the writings, palms spread flat on the table. His brow was furrowed in thought, his mouth a thin line. His hair of rich gold flame tumbled past his shoulders as he leaned in, face partly obscured by shadow.

Finrod saw his mind was afire, feverish in seeking how to better assess the movement of Angband. “Aye, and we need not be like he,” he replied, a hand on the other’s shoulder. He gripped lightly. “Go, and rest. I have my reports to sift through either way, and I long for the peace of it.”

His brother Aegnor sighed through his nose, righting himself from the table. “We set to leave before sunrise.” He abandoned his place, his face wary, as though reluctant to meet the night outside. He stepped closer to the entrance and gazed long at Finrod. “You would do well to heed your own advice, brother,” he said with a gentle smile, and an incline of the head was their farewell for the night.

Aegnor emerged into the cold and followed the known path to his tent. Even tangled in thought as he was, he still discerned movement.

His feet wavered. Ahead, taking to the lake, was one he would know in the dimmest darkness of Morgoth’s dungeons. A flash of pain crossed his face as the Elf looked at her retreat. Many nights she had been doing this — why for, Aegnor knew not, for he had never asked. Perhaps she went to muse on whatever wisdom her kin held dear.

Perhaps she thought of him, a sinuous thought emerged. Longing, he came to know; Beleriand had changed his people, had changed them all. None remembered the careless beings once running through vineyards in bloom beneath silver-gold lights. Here was death, pain, and loss. Here were the Secondborn, and Morgoth ruled the land.

And here, he found her.

All those times she braved the night, the Elf would follow. She knew, but never called to him and he would keep his distance, watchful of peril late until she retired. A distance away, an ocean apart. Aegnor would wish for many things during those lonesome hours until he could stand no more, and not a few were the times he nearly betrayed himself. And his struggle must have reached even her, for upon her return the woman always passed him by, her face lined with both new and drying tears.

And now, despite the lateness of the hour and his mind urging the opposite, Aegnor again followed. He knew his folly, but the moment her face swayed before him in those black waters, all hope and reason left him, and the Elf knew he was lost.

He stopped by a tree, his hand pressed against the harsh bark. The young woman neared the lakeshore, arms folded around herself, her figure barely visible in the gloom.

Aegnor gazed around them, to the tall trees fringing the lake, then sought the heather hills rolling around its clear, dark eye. His thoughts would ebb and flow, then return to her. And the Elf had never seen her look his way; not for a moment, not for a breath, and he had no hope or wish for her to do so now.

Time passed, and the stars shone their distant light, and waters rippled in their stillness. Then, with both joy and dread, he saw her hair swaying in the nightly breeze as Andreth turned her head. Over her shoulder, she looked, and though his sight was beyond compare and his senses sharp, Aegnor could not see if she sought him or no; but she must have, and guilty hope teemed in his chest.

The mortal gazed back at the lake.

Stillness returned, but now it would not serve. His eyes were dark as Aegnor wondered if she had always waited there, hoping he would come? With a barely contained tremor, his body not his own to master any longer, his booted feet were silent in their faltering steps. In a haze, he walked, driven beyond sense, beyond will. He went to the lake, closer; to her.

“Saelind.” His voice, foreign to his own ears.

She did not stir. He heard her rushed heartbeat, throbbing on weak wings.

He waited.

Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, white mist in the gloom.

One step and then another. Every seam and recess of his being warned for a retreat; even so, he went.

“I have been pondering,” Andreth began once he was closer, her head tipped to the stars.

Aegnor looked to the water, where the same stars shone in a shivering mirror. “What about?”

“... on how your people see us, so brittle and brief compared to you. Despite this, friendship blooms between our kindreds, fading though it is,” she said sadly to the moonless skies. “But nothing more.”

“Not once have I thought you brittle,” the words spilled from him. He reached for her arm.

Andreth closed her eyes. He was there, alive and near, and this was so unlike all her foolish illusions. But the pressure of light fingers to her sides was real, as was the warmth adding to hers. “Will you deny the pity you so openly bestow upon us?” she asked, eyes unfocused. He felt nearer still, the slow shift a torment. But she had not known peace, not since that day. Steel-clad arms wound around her, harsh and cold, commanding her into him.

The Elf ached at her words, for they were bitter and regretful, and infused with the hurt of one wronged. He had never meant to wrong her, anymore than he had meant to love her. But were he to speak of his affection, it would only wrong her further. “I never pitied you,” he spoke against her neck. “Never, Saelind.”

Andreth tilted her head to his. It was all so new and strong and overwhelming, the warmth of his cheek upon hers. His skin was nothing she would ever feel again, this she knew. And he was ever closer, his arms now impossibly tight around her, the plate armor digging into her flesh. They should not be here, like this, she knew. And found she did not care.

Andreth tried to understand why it was to be this way. The reasons against them she had accepted with the bravery of one doomed, all the while having to look into his eyes and see the opposite meaning to his words.

And now, despite this understanding, here they were, and Andreth could cast him away no more than he could leave her be. It was that which allowed Aegnor to slowly turn her around so she faced him. His eyes were starlit like the waters, his features bright in the depth of night.

“If it were my choice, I would take you to be mine, and we would flee this place.”

The possessive flicker in his words both frightened her and drew her closer.

His forehead rested against hers. “I cannot.” Aegnor met her eyes again, cowed by her strength and patience. He cupped her face in his palms, saw her lower lip quivering. Met with no resistance and lost in his thirst, he pressed his lips lightly to her cheek.

Her breathing nearly ceased. Andreth found her knees were failing and so leaned into him, feeling irate and miserable and elated all at once.

He tasted her skin, licked a light trail along her jaw, sucked at the corner of her lips; and beyond reason as he was Aegnor felt her tensing, and somewhere in him, there was a deep and selfish shiver.

For many moments, Andreth neither returned the kiss, nor did she shun him. But then he felt her falling, following him faithfully and just as eager.

The scent she had only dreamed of now dazed her into a powerful haze akin to a spell, and somehow the lake was no more, the dark canopy of endless trees was no more, and Andreth came to know only him. Her arm reached around his neck as his lips opened against hers, and a new world was made known to her.

He was of silk, of searing wonder; all she would never have. A sliver of resent and hurt coiled within her, but his pull was stronger. He was kindling a new, simmering flame, igniting her with nary a touch. He felt so very good, and now Andreth saw he tasted better, and she became a flaming pyre in his arms. She knew his grief, felt his chest nestling her, how her own hands clutched at him, so wanton and feverish, never to release; but she must.

Slowly, she severed the kiss, drawing back in the hardest trial she would remember in the after days. Andreth watched his parted lips, then met his eyes, drinking in the vision she would keep close to the end.

And Aegnor, the steadfast, whose eyes they say burned with flames of wrath during battle, fell to his knees before young Andreth of the kindred of Men. His arms never left her, and his hands were hopelessly clasping her body, his head bowed against her middle.

Slight fingers twined in his hair, and the Elf sighed in guilt for what he’d begun. “I do not want to cause you pain,” he spoke into her. “Forgive me, Saelind.”

Andreth cradled his head to her while all still spun about her, and the world faded with his closeness; silence drowned in the rise and fall of his chest.

“I forgive you, for you are no guiltier than I.”

Then gently she pried herself from him, and he let her, his hands falling to his sides.

As she walked away Aegnor stayed behind. War knew no marriage among the Eldar, as death knew no master, and these were not times for love; duty was a heavy chain, and it was strung in endless knots around his feet.

“Why tonight, of all nights? Why did you turn, Saelind?” he found his words, and the strength to ask before she went too far.

Andreth ceased in her steps, and with her back to him, a saddened smile lay hidden.

“You never came to me yourself, and on the morrow, you are gone.”

Fingers digging into his palms, his resolution crumbled to dust. There came the urge to seek her anew, to throw all this to the wind. But then she spoke.

“What I feel will never wither as I would. And I grieve for being denied. But... but if you ever doubt your choice, remember I cannot resent you, though this feels like punishment and seems born of pride. Farewell, Aegnor of the Eldar. I will wait for you, though I know not where.”

She stayed a moment longer; he said nothing, and daggers were her footsteps receding in the dark.

“So will I,” his voice faded in the gloom once Andreth was out of sight, cut by anguish and need. But he was weak, and afraid of his own heart more than the Edain feared death, and so he kept still as a stone on the floors of boundless seas. The earth was cold beneath his feet, and the deeps of the night witnessed his tears in silence.

[fe-cipher-secret-shop]

Fire Emblem Cipher R Cards (Updated)

Hi all~

I decided to consolidate all my R cards and put them all in one big post. Apologies for all the pictures, but I wanted to make sure they were all visible and in decent quality.  The R cards are holographic which is a little hard to tell in the picture. If you want to see any close ups, just let me know.

The cards I have (as pictured) and their prices:

B05-009 R Lance sold out

B05-022 R Shanna sold out

B05-038 R Thea sold out

B05-044 R Fae sold out

B05-046 R Juno sold out

B05-073 R Nailah sold out

B05-077 R Nephenee sold out

B05-080 R Lucia sold out

B05-084 R Sigrun sold out

B05-090 R Soren sold out

B05-098 R Kurthanaga sold out

B09-062 R Kilmar sold out

B11-058 R Clive sold out

B11-067 R Valbar sold out

B13-043 R Lloyd x2 - $1.00 (each)

B14-032 R Nah sold out

B14-042 R Validar sold out

B16-036 R Galle sold out

B17-114 R Emma x1 - $1.00

B18-062 R Gregor x1 - $1.00

B19-057 R Arden x2 - $1.00 (each)

B19-061 R Edain x2 - $1.50 (each)

B19-074 R Scathach x1 - $1.00

B19-089 R Eldigan sold out

B20-006 R F!Kanna x1 - $1.00

B20-008 R M!Kanna x1 - $1.00

B20-012 R Sakura x2 - $1.00 (each)

B20-014 R Saizo x4 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-018 R Reina sold out

B20-025 R Elise x4 - $1.00 (each)

B20-027 R Peri x2 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-029 R Arthur x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-062 R Laura x1 - $1.50 

B20-074 R Leanne x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-075 R Reyson x1 - $1.50

B20-080 R Lucia x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-083 R Geoffrey x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B20-085 R Mist sold out

B20-091 R Ashnard x1 - $1.00

B20-098 R Medallion x3 - $1.50 (each)

B21-019 R Lorenz sold out

B21-029 R Leonie sold out

B21-031 R Edelgard sold out

B21-054 R Lyn sold out

B21-056 R Florina x2 - $2.50 (each)

B21-065 R Priscilla sold out

B21-069 R Heath sold out

B22-015 R Caeda sold out

B22-020 R F!Kris x4 - $1.00 (each)

B22-022 R Medeus x4 - $1.00 (each)

B22-038 R Saias x3 - $1.00 (each)

B22-042 R Narcian x8 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-047 R Knoll x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-051 R Soren x4 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-053 R Mia x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-074 R Hinoka x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-081 R Leo x4 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-087 R Veronica x4 - $2.00 (each) 

B22-090 R Edelgard sold out

B22-092 R Dimitri sold out

B22-100 R Kronya x1 - $1.00 

B22-102 R Mamori x3 - $1.00 (each) 

B22-107 R Al x4 - $1.00 (each)

Shipping from the states. Shipping will depend on location and prices are around $5ish but will include tracking. International shipping will need to be estimated based on size of package and location. International shipping might not come with any tracking.

If you’re interested or have any questions, just shoot me either an ask or message! ^^

Thanks for your time and reblogs would be greatly appreciate. It’s hard to get attention on tumblr and the FE tags get flooded often and my post might not get noticed! ><

(Apologies for poor pictures! If you want to see any specific card alone and up close, just let me know!)

Last Update: January 9, 2023

[buggos-blog]

Description and Rules

  Findarato Ingoldo, or Finrod Felagund is a Noldorin Prince and King of the realm of Nargothrond, the eldest son of Finarfin and Earwen, brother to Angrod, Aegnor, and Galadriel. Finrod was among those that initially opposed Feanaro and the Exile of the Noldor, however he joined them in the end because he did not wish to be parted from his friends and his people who were eager to go and did not wish to abandon them to Feanaro’s rule. Neither he nor his father or siblings participated in the Kinslaying of Alqualonde, and when the Doom of the Noldor was decried, many of his host turned back, including his father- but he and his siblings continued on. Finrod led the rear of the host of the Noldor across the Helcaraxe along with his uncle Fingolfin after Feanaro’s betrayal at Losgar where he burned the Teleri ships rather than sending them back for the remaining host. When he arrived in Beleriand, he established the tower of Minas Tirith on the island of Tol Sirion that guarded the Pass of Sirion to prevent the forces of Morgoth from invading Beleriand from the plains of Ard-galen. However, one summer when on a trip with his cousin and close friend Turgon, both had visions granted to them from Ulmo of cities to be built that would be fortified and hidden to better defend against Morgoth and protect their people. This was the spark that led him to create the great stronghold called Nargothrond, and he named his realm after it where he was king until his ill fated quest. Finrod was the first elf to befriend the Edain, when he had journeyed to visit his cousins Maglor and Maedhros, he came across the kindred of Beor the Old. He stayed a long while with them and learned their language as well as teaching them Sindarin. He was able to petition on the Mens behalf for land of their own in Estolad. During Dagor Bragollach, he was fighting in Fen of Serech when he was surrounded by orcs- and this friendship he developed ended up saving his life. Barahir of the House of Beor saved his life, and Finrod swore an oath of abiding friendship and aid in every need to Barahir and his kin. Ten years later this oath would be fulfilled when Barahir’s son Beren came to Nargothrond seeking help and Finrod went with him on the quest for the silmaril. In the end, only ten warriors went with him, they slayed a camp of orcs, taking their guise in an effort to travel and bypass trouble but eventually they were captured and imprisoned by Sauron on Tol-in-Gaurhoth, formally Finrod’s own Minas Tirith. Finrod fought with Song against Sauron and though his power was great, he eventually failed. They were stripped of their disguise and killedone by one by werewolves until it was only Beren and Finrod, when the werewolf came to kill Beren, Finrod used all of his sthrength to break his bonds and wrestle the werewolf that he slayed with his hands and teeth, though he himself was mortally wounded. It is said that because of Finrods noble deeds in life and his honorable death, he was reborn early in Valinor. This is where I (as the mun) take some liberty when it comes to storytelling and head canons because there is not much known past this point. I headcanon that Finrod is reembodied not long after the first age, and because of this, the healing that was needed was not complete. He still suffers from some PTSD due to the graphic and violent nature of his final days, as well as the battles he has seen and struggles from his time in Beleriand and crossing the Helcaraxe. He is very light hearted, and now that he is back in Valinor, he has returned to using the Quenya version of his name. If there are any questions on this character or if you wish for further details, please send me a message or send an ask and I will gladly go over this further and answer any questions. I will link the website where I source my info on Finrod from here. Finrod prefers his Quenya name even in Beleriand however he understands that it is banned, and only close family will call him such. If you are family or a close friend, he will allow you to call him by his nickname, Finda, but is quick to correct those who get too friendly too fast. Finrod is a very kind and warm individual, he is wise, though he can and enjoys playing naive. He is generous and caring, he enjoys making friends and is passionate about culture, travel, athletics and sports. He is an active individual who takes pride in his appearance, and can be vain at times, but has a sense of humility as well. He enjoys athletic competitions of strength and endurance. He is extremely loyal as seen in much of his history and once he is on your side, you can expect him to all that he can to help you.

Rules: 

Rules:

I have three simple rules for now when it comes to RP

1. I will not answer rude anons, there is no use in sending them because they will be deleted right away and I will not tolerate harassment of any kind.

2. I am willing to do NSFW RP with select individuals, and will tag accordingly, if I fail to tag something that you deem inappropriate or triggering, politely send me a message and I will correct this. Though I am human, and make mistakes, sometimes I do forget tags.

3. I will not RP with people under the age of 18+, I will be checking and will promptly block anyone that has interacted with my posts or my blog who are.

[ulirblood]

pegasussy baka

@vivensansamor​ (skill point: flying +1)

the current expedition she was on had gone terribly wrong. she’d tagged along for those that would (hopefully not) need healing, but she did not expect to be working her butt off like this. multiple members had drank water contaminated from the very own strange substance they had unearthed in an effort to research more. they would not last long like this at all; she could only do so much with her own faith.

edain looks up at the clouded sky as she pushes open the makeshift medical tent flap. if there were anyway they were going to get fresh water right now it would be from the rain. they thankfully had a pegasus on site as well, perhaps if someone flew up there...

but the owner of the pegasus was one of her patients. she wouldn’t be able to call on their help for this. in that case, she would have to do it herself wouldn’t she? she makes her way over to where the pegasus was stationed. she’d learned how to ride a horse before from midir, but never a pegasus. edain swallows nervously, wondering if she can take such a task on by herself.

but she had to. she had to get this done, or the other members of her expedition team would suffer. edain sits at a standstill for a moment while holding the reins of the pegasus, wondering what she should do. she looks around for help before settling on one of the friendlier looking knights of seiros; sain if she remembered his name correctly.

“excuse me, sir sain!” she calls out to him, still holding tight the reins of the pegasus. “do you know how to ride a pegasus?” she’s unable to shake the desperation in her voice. “i.. want to get closer to the clouds to get some fresh water to our sick patients, but i’m unsure how to ride a pegasus, so i...” she trails off, looking extremely troubled.

[outofangband]

Morwen, for the character ask?

Sexuality headcanon: bi and arospec. I headcanon her as having Alexithymia though so that has an affect on how she approaches orientation even if there as the same vocabulary in their context

OTP: Húrin. I love their relationship so much.

Favorite friendship: Húrin also? But I've also read lovely fic about her and Rían, her younger cousin. And Aerin ❤️

NOTP: I mean I can think of characters that she'd probably be miserable in a relationship with but I feel silly calling ships that don't currently exist a NOTP if that makes sense

This reminds me of a time where I saw someone making post after post raging about an avatar ship that does not actually exist, like I checked multiple archives

First headcanon that comes into my head: she didn't speak until she was almost six

One way I relate to this character: I've also gotten falsely accused of witchcraft! For antisemitic reasons but still

More seriously though I also am blunt and direct sometimes too much. And of course I also love Húrin! I relate to Morwen very much in that.

Thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about the character? I mean there are things that make me shake my head and think 'Morwen I'm not sure that was the best approach' but not really embarrassment and also certainly with the knowledge that I've said similar to worse

Cinnamon role or problematic fave: neither. I love her and she's my favorite female character in the legendarium

[child-of-hurin]

Are there any songs that remind you of the Narn, just out of curiosity

-@outofangband

Okay I made a list of the ones I had fresher in my mind, might update it later, THERE ARE SO MANY I'm sorry but this was so much fun actually....... These are the songs that when they come up on shuffle, they immediately send me into Narn mode. I'm a little sad to see I don't have any specific for Húrin :'( my man...

ONE CONDITION: I want to know which songs YOU associate with the Narn! You and everyone reading this send me your Narn music… I demand

Some instrumental ones:

Tchaikovsky’s Marche Slave reminds me of the First Age Edain as a whole, I think the musical narrative of that piece of music fits so well

Porpora’s Second Lesson from Darkness

The whole Shadow of Colossus OST

The track “Anger Towards God” from the videogame Okami

The Shadows, “Man of Mystery” (makes me think of Nienor specifically)

Empyrium “A Pastoral Theme”

whole family:

Miranda Sex Garden, “A Fairytale About Slavery”, which I also use as a meta tag occasionally

How long have you been lost down here? How did you come to lose your way? When did you realize that you'd never be free?

The Bravery, “Bad Sun”

We are liars like the summertime, Like the spring, we are such fools, Like fall we are false prophets, Like winter, we are cruel (...) Someday back when we were young, I guess something just went wrong The two of us are hung from the same twisted rope

Chet Baker, “Always You”

Whenever it's early twilight I watch 'til a star breaks through Funny, it's not a star I see It's always you

Wild Nothing, “This Chain”

And I don't know just what I got myself into All I know is I can't let go This chain won't break Because of you

Cocorosie, "Westside"

I'll wait for you until the streets become sand And all the ceilings in New York have come down I'll wait for you until the stars dominate the skies again

Chelsea Wolfe, “Spinning Centers”

When the minute goes by faster than the feet When the winter passes slowly as defeat When the face of death is after me spinning Only dream of me, only dream of me

Death Cab for Cutie, "I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

The time for sleep is now But it's nothing to cry about 'Cause we'll hold each other soon In the blackest of rooms

Siversun Pickups, “Kissing Families”

It's everything that is connected and beautiful And now I know just where I stand Thank god your heart is too close This can be the bitter end I know it won't

Skeeter Davis, “The End of the World”

Why does my heart go on beating? Why do these eyes of mine cry? Don't they know it's the end of the world? It ended when you said "Good-bye"

For Túrin/Nienor

Chico Buarque, “João e Maria”

It was fated, now, that the make-believe would end like this Beyond this backyard was a neverending night, Since you left this world without a word of warning. And now I was a madman, asking of life What more would it yet make of me

Lana del Rey covering “Goodbye Kiss”

Doomed from the start, We met with a goodbye kiss When I broke my wrist.

Bjork, “Joga”

Emotional landscapes, they puzzle me Then the riddle gets solved and you push me up to this State of emergency How beautiful to be State of emergency Is where I want to be

Skeptor, “No Alarms and No Surprises”

James Blake, “Barefoot in the Park”

I call off the chase Who needs balance? I'll see you everyday

Peter, Bjorn ad John “Young Folks”

If you knew my story word for word Had all of my history Would you go along with someone like me?

It doesn't matter what you did Who you were hanging with We could stick around and see this night through

Chelsea Wolfe, "Green Altar"

In this house of rapture I am fit to love The language of nature in sine curve The shimmer beating heart of universe I'd been waiting, I've been waiting long Such love could make an atheist turn to god

Florence and the Machine, “Heavy in your Arms”

My love has concrete feet My love's an iron ball Wrapped around your ankles Over the waterfall

King Dude feat. Chelsea Wolfe, “Be Free”

Your face like a painting in your historic mind But you barely survived, and you're barely alive Those rules of lost days that we buried in time I carried the baby, it felt dead inside

Morwen

Gillian Welch, “Annabelle”

When I'm dead and buried I'll take a hard life of tears From every day I've ever known Anna's in the churchyard she got no life at all She's only got these words on a stone

Semisonic, “Secret Smile”

Nobody knows it but you've got a secret smile And you use it only for me

Nienor

Yo La Tengo, “Speeding Motorcycle”

Juliano Holanda, “Ouriço”

How careless of me, to step on your quills It’s that habit of mine, of gazing at the sky, My mind unfixed, soaring with no wings. Sometimes I bump into the furniture; And other times I trip on the paths themselves. How careless of me, to step on your quills.

Chelsea Wolfe, “The Mother Road”

Guess I needed someone to break me Guess I needed someone to shake me out It was you

Anna von Hausswolff, “The Mysterious Vanishing of Electra”

My feet are not enough to save me His search is not enough to find me You search through the forest and the bottomless sea And you cry Push the trees, push the sky, push the air aside You look at their faces and their meaningless loss And you cry Who is she to say good bye?

Loney, Dear, “Harm / Slow”

Time didn't pay attention to me at all Time didn't show kindness to me at all I fell asleep in the lion's mouth

That's how I fell for you That's how I fell from the top of twelve stories to the ground For the reasons I have, The ones I know, the ones I don’t, For all I forgot That is all I could do That is how I want you

Beach House, “I Do Not Care For The Winter Sun”

Snowflakes that fall across my eyes Cannot compare to a dark surprise What's new becomes old, what's old is new When I first laid my eyes on you

Wild Nothing, “O Lilac”

Lilac, I feel your last lies come straight from her eyes Tonight, should you rise above, I regret love, I regret love And you have ghost hands on, that can't hold you up And you have ghost hands on, I can't hold you up

Daughter, “Run”

I don't know what we're doing I don't know what we've done But the fire is coming So I think we should run

Tokyo Police Club - “The Nature of the Experiment”

It's not the way my mother talks It's not the people that she mocks It's the nature of the experiment It's the patterns of my temperament

Túrin

Wild Nothing, “Pessimist”

Boys don't cry, they just want to die Stumble and cough, grin or lie

Joe Cocker “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”

I'm just a soul who's intentions are good Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Portishead, “Wandering Star”

Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved The blackness of darkness forever

Portishead, "Roads"

I got nobody on my side And surely that ain't right Ohh, can't anybody see We've got a war to fight

Albert King, “Born Under a Bad Sign”

Born under a bad sign Been down since I begin to crawl If it wasn't for bad luck You know I wouldn't have no luck at all

Tom Petty, “Refugee”

Tell me why you wanna lay there And revel in your abandon Honey, it don't make no difference to me, baby Everybody's had to fight to be free

The Prodigy, “Spitfire”

Nina Simone, “Sinnerman”

MorMor, “Heaven’s Only Wishful”

You could kiss the lips of fate The less we know the less it drains us

Finduilas

Cibelle, “Green Grass”

Lay your head where my heart used to be Hold the earth above me Lay down in the green grass Remember when you loved me

Fauré, “Le Secret”

Would that the morn were unaware Of the name I told to the night, And that in the dawn breeze, silently, It would vanish like a tear. Would that the day might proclaim it, The love I hid from the morn, And poised above my open heart, Like a grain of incense kindle it. Would that the sunset might forget, The secret I told to the day, And would carry it and my love away In the folds of its faded robe!

Silent Hill songs that work too well imo:

- Alex Theme (Machinehead remix)

- Hell Frozen Rain

- Shot Down in Flames

- You’re not Here

Ratatat Minimix [youtube link]

1. We can't be stopped 2. Nostrand (Morwen) 3. Gettysburg (Túrin) 4. Falcon Jab (Nienor) 5. Biddang (Sunset at the Stone of the Hapless) 6. Seventeen Years (Húrin) [Hiden track: Wildcat]

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Scary Stories to Tell in Angband

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bhQHt6w

by Mersilisk

“I have travelled among Edain, I have been to western shores. I have collected tales of dread from every part of this world. You need me. And being the Father of All Horror, you are the only one who can fully understand me.”

A Nameless captive Noldo tells Melkor scary stories in order to survive

Words: 1207, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Original Elf Character(s), Sauron | Mairon, (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Horror, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Scary

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bhQHt6w

[arofili]

tagged by @luthien​ to post my most popular/favorite posts from this year, and i’m gonna tie it in with the tag from @ghost-generals​ to post my favorite creations/creations that need more love :)

my main project this year (edit-wise) was my Peoples of Arda edit series (which will be returning soon!) and i wrote a LOT of fic as well, so you’ll see both popping up over the months!!

january

most popular post: The Line of Elros: Royalty of Númenor: Elros (the post that started it all!)

favorite post: “now that I see you” (i mentioned this in an ask game earlier; it’s the trans-finno-comes-out fic that i’m quite proud of)

post that deserves more love: Elemmírë headcanons (i had way more thoughts than expected!!)

february

most popular post: rating the C/K distinction in Quenya, but swapped (gotta love low-effort shitposts...)

favorite post: Devious Games (i LOVED writing this fic omg)

post that deserves more love: Russingon sleep headcanons (listen. i love them)

march

most popular post: Faramir son of Ondoher and Eowyn parallels was beat by only 1 note by Faramir son of Denethor II named his son after Boromir and since they’re both Faramir-related angst posts I thought I’d include them both lol

favorite post: Beleg edit for @nikosheba :)

post that deserves more love: “can’t look at the stars (they make me wonder where you are)” (Kiliel space AU; this one got slept on in general imo)

april

most popular post: Maglor Has No Wife (good!! this is important!!)

favorite post: Russingon + kissing in a stairwell (they’re so cute here!)

post that deserves more love: these Numenor fics deserve more attention than they got!!!

may

most popular post: maglor’s family shitpost (the most popular post so far!)

favorite post: luthien edit for tolkien south asian week (i just really love the aesthetic/format here!)

post that deserves more love: Elves of Arda: Gondolindrim: The House of the Mole (really proud of these headcanons, despite what the anons in my inbox would wish)

june

most popular post: a three-way tie between 2 Men of Middle-earth edits and the first of my Three Houses of the Edain edits: Théoden, Théodwyn, and Balan

favorite post: oriented aroace Bilbo prideboard (the picrew i did of him is so cute and i love how the color palette came together!)

post that deserves more love: idemromantic Haldir prideboard (i get this is a niche headcanon but i think the colors here are SO pretty!)

july

most popular post: Mansions of the Valar for @tolkiengenweek (i like this one a lot too!)

favorite post: The Last Prince of Cardolan and the Lady of the Blue Brooch for @tolkienocweek (this was more work than i anticipated but turned out better, too!)

post that deserves more love: Three Houses of the Edain: House of Bëor: Bregil (LISTEN this crack theory is TOO GOOD, more people need to see it!)

august

most popular post: “A Private Word” (Russingon ficlet for @navyinks <3)

favorite post: Ribbons (so far the only art piece...I didn’t draw much this year, rip)

post that deserves more love: beneath the summer stars (very proud of this one!!)

september

most popular post: All Things Turn (HELL yeah!!!)

favorite post: how you love, and a halo surrounds you (this fic was such a joy to write!)

post that deserves more love: Elwing for @halfelvenweek (love her eyes in this one)

october

most popular post: Russingon commission from @spicysilmarils​ (AS IT DESERVES)

favorite post: “Quentessë” (i adored writing this <3)

post that deserves more love: Diriel Airelinna, daughter of Amras (look she’s a great OC and i love her)

november

most popular post: top ships of the Silm fandom (did not expect this one to get so many notes...)

favorite post: Nolofinweans for @tolkienfamilyweek (love them!)

post that deserves more love: week-long fandom events: some tips from a pro (i just think this could be very useful to people!)

december

most popular post: Tolkien Legendarium Characters Masterdoc (even though i only posted this yesterday....!)

favorite post: “Enthroned” (really really fond of this one <3)

post that deserves more love: “The First Kiss” (not surprised considering how minor these characters are but i like this fic!)

it’s past midnight on the east coast so i’m not gonna bother to tag people (even though i’m still in 2021 myself, lol)

[morwensteelsheen]

I started this in my tag babbling the other day, but inspired by @galadhremmin's ongoing ArwenPosting, I’m returning to it real quick on my lunch break.

Here’s a take: Éowyn as Minas Anor, Arwen as Minas Tirith.

The comparisons between Éowyn and Minas Anor are pretty overt right from the get go. Both are associated with the colour white (obviously there are even larger, more significant associations with the colour white through the legendarium, but it is an important starting point nonetheless), they’re both described in terms of majesty (“tall”, “fair”, and in terms of personal inaccessibility), and, of course, Faramir—who is perhaps the most vocal advocate of both Éowyn and Minas Anor—describes them in similar terms, as I alluded to here.

Delving deeper than that, however, there is also the path both go on. In the immediate term, both Minas Anor (as Minas Tirith) and Éowyn pass through fire and war to come out anew on the other side, broken so that they might grow stronger. Both are brought back from the shadow of death by the King and, ahem, more significantly by the Steward, and both are either the enactors or sites of unexpected shows of strength.

In the longer term, there’s what they both represent. In Faramir’s rather verbose lament for Gondor, he notes a few things worth remembering:

The Kings (including here both the line of Isildur in the Northern Kingdom and the line of Anárion in Gondor) faltered in their ability to uphold the legacy of Númenor because they failed to integrate the people who dwelt in Middle-Earth but who were themselves not descendants of Númenor.

“But the Stewards were wiser” etc in that they integrated those people both within the borders of Gondor itself, and by setting up permanent allies in the Rohirrim to the west.

It is these things, he says, combined with a turn away from the vainglorious war-cheerleading (and, obviously defeating Sauron) that would return Minas Tirith to Minas Anor

Éowyn, then, fulfills these criteria explicitly. She is of the Rohirrim, yet she also claims a descendent of Númenor in her heritage, and, famously, she turns away from war in favour of the pursuit of life. And this is important, I think, because it shows the detente with death necessary for living a healthy life as a Man. There is, looming large in Gondor’s legacy, Númenor’s latter-day pursuit of immortality, which leads to its sinking; but there is also Gondor’s current-day obsession with death (per Faramir, once more: “Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons.”). Éowyn represents the necessary happy medium—she turns from an obsession with death and all its trappings to an acknowledgement of the necessity of nurturing life. This is the turn Minas Tirith will also need to take to become Minas Anor once more.

Arwen, by contrast, is a unique and fascinating case. Before we start, I would like to point out that Faramir identifies Elrond more explicitly with the Edain and the forefathers of Númenor than with the Elves, which is, to put it lightly, a lot. Anyways, Arwen, despite choosing the gift of Men (and, at least sort of freeing herself from the influence of the Music of the Ainur and therefore the fates of Middle Earth), still actually represents the tangles and bonds of the old world. There is, quite upsettingly in some ways, her connection to Lúthien and Beren, but also her intimate connection to Númenor—Elrond being Elros’ brother. And even though Faramir associates Elrond so strongly with Númenor, there is very little about Elrond or Arwen that connects them as overtly to the extant realms of Middle Earth (“So it was that Frodo saw her whom few mortals had yet seen”) as the actual descendants of Númenor who still remain, whether through the Northern Dúnedain or the Southern.

And Arwen’s entire life is concerned with death, and the choices that lead to or near-indefinitely postpone it. She, like Minas Tirith, has tombs more splendid than the houses of the living made for her, though rather than literal tombs (at least before her death), it is the obsession with and discussion of her death that makes these tombs. And, again as in Minas Tirith, it is the old names in the rolls of her descent—Lúthien, namely—that are counted more dearly than the names of her sons. Even when she makes her choice, she cannot escape the way death holds control over her life, and she cannot truly become part of Gondor and by extension her new life, nowhere is this more evident, I feel, than in her final words to Aragorn:

"Nay, dear lord," she said, "that choice is long over. There is now no ship to bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Númenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive." [x]

She does not see Gondor as Gondor (or the Reunited Kingdom as what it is) but rather as Númenor. She is trapped in the past, and now must face the horrible future—death—with little psychological or emotional preparation for it. She is, in effect, as Minas Tirith was, but she lacks the cleansing fire, if you will, and turn to life and its joys, that enables the (re)birth of Minas Anor.