#She never forgive Oromë for this

[eunoiaastralwings]

I might get this commissioned like a comic too?

Should I. . . ?

A pouting crying little Quildalótien glared up at Oromë.

“I am still mad you gave Huan to Tyelko and not me, Atya!”

chuckling, the huntsman strings his bow onto his back and crouches down to meet you. “well, tyelko has been asking for him for quite some time. don't worry little sparrow." he dries your tears and gives a gentle smile, unlike his usual indifferent and almost agitated expression. “I'll be sure to fetch you a little fawn next time. wouldn't you prefer that?”

[doodle-pops]

Hi Mina! I was just curious what you think Úmaiar (fallen Maiar) are like depending on what Valar they used to serve? I saw a HC that Succubi/Incubi are Úmaiar who were formerly under Irmo's domain and that makes ALOT of sense. I also HC that Maiar who follow Varda and Oromë are least susceptible to corruption because Varda is the embodiment of the polar opposite of Melkor and Oromë is also heavily against evil. Other than Aulë, whose Maiar do you think are most susceptible to corruption?

Howdy! I had to put a great deal of thought into answering this question because I've never thought about this before. I couldn't answer them based on who I believe would be easily susceptible to corruption, but rather what the Úmaiar of each of the Valar would be like. Forgive me if it doesn't sound 100% right (they're all mushed).

Irmo:

From what I know, the fallen Maiar were mostly Balrogs and other spirits. You mentioned the Incubi and Succubi as Irmo's fallen Maiar and it sounds about right with that one. There could be those who bring an unnecessary amount of nightmares for terrorising purposes and trap people in the dream realm, those who are the spirits of confusion, and trickster spirits.

Námo:

With Námo, he can have spirits who terrorise both the living and dead; hunt the souls of the recently dead and devour them. Some might commit desecration of the recently dead; messing up their burial sights to prevent the souls from properly crossing over.

Yavanna:

This one is from a headcanon I saw on Yavanna (can't find it), but an Úmaiar of Yavanna can be those who create poisonous plants and those like the Venus Fly Trap. I picture the Valar concept of good/safe to be beautiful creations, so imagine when these corrupted spirits create such beautiful plants but they turn out to be harmful to both people and the environment.

Ulmo:

Ulmo might have sirens or the carnivorous version of his regular merfolks who don't follow the rules of the ocean which is to keep sailors safe. These guys hunt for the flesh of men/elves and cause most of the shipwrecks just to devour sailors. There might be other monstrous sea creatures as well.

Nessa:

This one is a wild thought, but I pictured a corrupted Melian for this one. Since it was she who taught the birds how to sing, I can picture a corrupted version of her singing songs of enchantment to lure travellers into the deep forest and steal the essence from their souls to preserve/strengthen herself.

Oromë:

I can picture some of Oromë's Maiar being corrupted, and I enjoy using references from Ossë who is known for being tempered and was easily persuaded by Melkor. A few of Oromë's hunters and Maiar who take the form of beasts could be a few of the beasts Melkor had created. Also this could be the start of Chimeras appearing in Middle Earth.

Stripping their true form and recreating their darker versions, or those who were willingly corrupted, enjoyed the idea of hunting; the thrill, the chase, and joined Melkor because he offered them the opportunity to hunt without restrictions and bask in the thrill. So now you have these 'hunters' who ride out to capture elves and men.

Manwë:

I assume any Maiar of Manwë would simply become dark versions of themselves. Mostly fighting against the Valar the same way Mairon left Aüle, I picture Eönwë doing the same (I imagine his wings turning black). Perhaps some of Manwë's eagles changed their forms to appear more menacing and become spies. I like to picture some of Melkor's first dragons were the corrupted versions of Manwë's eagles who were caught and tortured.

I couldn't think of any for Tulkas, Nienna, and Ëste. Furthermore, as mentioned, Varda Maiar would be the least susceptible to corruption, and we already have two of Aüle's Maiar dancing the lambada, so there you go.

[dalliansss]

Hi :3 can you do for thingol/finwe this one “❛ i don't even remember why we started fighting. ❜”? 🥺

- @finwecandoit

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Elmo grew up in the household of his eldest brother Elwë, and his brother's husband, Finwë and their wife Míriel. When Elwë wed, of course, as was then custom in Cuiviénen, he'd moved out to establish his own house, and for a while Olwë and Elmo were left at their father Tinwë's household. Elmo and his brothers had many half-siblings, and since they were considered to be 'of age' to start hauling their weight in providing for the house, they were no longer priority in the rationing of food and supplies, which included charcoal for winter and pelts to turn into coats or blankets. Elmo had been too small to remember this exactly, but it had gotten so bad that Olwë had no choice but to bundle him up and go all the way across Cuiviénen to Elwë's home and ask that they be allowed to live again with their brother.

Finwë and Míriel, Tatyar though they are, were very kind. They allowed Olwë and Elmo into their home, and it is this home that Elmo grew up in. Times were tough of course, and they all went to bed every day with varying degrees of hunger, but their situation was better because they knew Elwë would never let them starve or abandon them.

Míriel, lady of the house, was soft-spoken with fine-skilled hands. She was a weaver and craftswoman of renown, and the works produced by her hand fetched hefty prices at Cuiviénen's marketplace, especially her embroidered kerchiefs and dresses. Even Great Ancestress Iminyë often commissioned her for dresses that took several moons to complete, fine things with even more delicate embroidery that to Elmo looked like a sprinkle of stars on cloth.

Elwë is the tempering presence in the house, Elmo observes. His brother reined in Finwë's more reckless and impulsive tendencies, and where Finwë is happy to forgive and forget, Elwë will respectfully question, point out why he thinks something is wrong and why the wrong should be remedied so it can be fixed up in the future and never be repeated again. Elwë is also the mediator-spouse; able to talk and listen freely to Finwë and Míriel's concerns, and he often made sure Míriel's worries reached Finwë and would not otherwise be ignored.

Finwë is the main provider, a hunter of great skill and respect among the Tatyar. He is also the friendly one, and the coddler -- he loved sparing treats and showering Olwë and Elmo with affection, and it is mainly thanks to him that Elmo grew up with lots of hugs and kisses. He kept the household happy and warm and welcoming and full of hope, Finwë.

They're a wonderful balance, the three. Elmo hopes that, once he grows up or is fortunate enough to, he can establish his own household with the same harmony his brother had with his wife and husband.

But like all households, things aren't always lovey-dovey. Today is a quarreling day, tense. Things had been tense since the being called Oromë was spotted by Finwë by the borders of Cuiviénen, and Elmo knew not all the details, but that this Oromë wanted to offer the Quendi a safer place to live in. Finwë, bless him -- ever malcontent with Cuiviénen and wanting a place where they can all be safe, glommed easily into the idea of this Oromë, much like Ingwë of the Minyar. Elwë wasn't easily convinced.

They quarrel quietly, Finwë and Elwë. They don't shout, but they do exchange curt conversation and replies, and glare at each other across the table. Elmo knows they do this keeping in mind Míriel's delicate state and his and Olwë's presence, but the past two days, the tension had been too great it was almost choking, and Elmo knew Míriel said some words to her husbands.

Elwë is presently by the lakeshore, mending his boat. Elmo stood close, holding rope and hammer and some nails for him as his brother worked in sullen silence.

"Elmo," comes Finwë's voice. "Help your nésa with the cooking, will you?"

Elmo looks up at his brother-in-law, glances at his brother still crouched and hammering away at the side of his boat. Ever the pacifist, Finwë is oft the one reaching first for reconciliation. Elmo nods, hands Finwë the rope and nails, and he goes obediently back to their house to help Míriel.

Finwë fidgets. Elwë stops his hammering and looks at him in silence. He fidgets some more. "I wanted to apologize--" he says. "You're right. You're right, I... I was just so eager to have a chance--. A new home, you know, Elwë? A safer home. For us. Míriel and your brothers...but, but, I know this is a big decision, and I recognize your call for temperance. That the Quendi should sit, think very hard, and discuss about this before we all go gallivanting in the dark, journeying west..."

Elwë pauses his repairwork. He stands. He is a head taller than Finwë, with darker skin decorated with the whorls and dots and spirals so valued by the Nelyar and given only to the most accomplished of their kindred, like warriors and scholars and leaders.

"I don't even remember why we started fighting," Elwë says, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I am glad you are seeing sense. I am not refusing help, Finwë. But i want the Quendi to make sure this 'help' is indeed what it is being offered. Not some trap for our people."

Finwë wrings his hands. His lower lip quivers, and he drops the rope and the nails as he surges forward and hugs Elwë with all his might. Elwë holds him in turn, rubs his back.

"I'm just so sick of death," Finwë whispers. "I want to lead all of us somewhere safe, where we can mind a house undisturbed, and Míriel doesn't stretch herself thin with grief, where she can be content and peaceful that she can finally nurture a child to term, give birth to a living baby--." He chokes on the words and cries. He clings to Elwë closer. He is decidedly the most emotional in the trio, Finwë.

"I know, Finwë. I know," Elwë promises. He kisses Finwë by the forehead, by the eyelids. "And I just want us, all of us, to be careful and sure."

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

so so picky about my celegorm/aredhel....i’m off my rocker for them but they have to be my specific way or i start unflavoring the broth. anyway she’s aro; he’s desperately and hopelessly and perennially in love. they’re best friends. they hate each other. they fuck nasty on the reg. they’re both messing around with other people (sometimes he wishes they weren’t). he would’ve dropped everything to marry her. she thinks she could kill him pretty easily. he thinks the same in reverse. she still resents that oromë gave huan to him and not to her. he loves and respects her freedom. he’s thought about breaking her legs to stop her always running away. she blames him for argon and elenwë’s deaths. he would leave her on the ice again if he was asked to. they’re forever missing each other. they never want to see each other again. he would kill for her and he’s not sure if she would do the same. she wants him to ask her forgiveness (she doesn’t know if she would say something or bloody him up). and best of all they’re having hardcore nasty queer sex among the pine needles

[transsexualhamlet]

i saw a post ranking how much each of the Valar hates Melkor and I thought I would make a post with kinda the opposite side of that, so

Melkor's Ranked List of Most Hated to Least Hated Valar

Burning Scorching Undying Hatred

Yavanna- There is just a special #1 enmity Melkor has for her, as is very obvious. He fucking hates trees so fucking bad and it is very difficult to escape her Stuff all Over the fucking place. There is absolutely nothing about Yavanna that Melkor wants to interact with. She symbolizes life and happiness and flowers and junk and well. Clearly makes him want to puke. He is a fan of the Corpse Flower which she made specifically because she was angry at him but it failed bc he was like oh this is awesome. But clearly there is NO redemption between them

Ulmo- Also has to do with conflicting elements. Ulmo fucking ruins this man's life and then ruins Mairon's life AGAIN later. He gets ZERO points for this and the sea is really the only place Melkor could never manage to conquer. As the sea is a very thematic thing for the elves and their salvation from Melkor and his nonsense, Melkor hates water so fucking much not even just because it spies on him and Mairon certainly did not have better treatment by it in his day

Manwë- The only reason he's at #3 is because Melkor does appreciate how much of a forgiving sod the dude is. He has to admit it is very easy to get off scot free from his brother, though Varda is not so forgiving. But despite it, he just cannot get over the rage of his brother being god's favorite. It's really an issue

Varda- Varda would be above Manwë if not for the fact that Melkor doesn't even hate stars, in theory. He wouldn't mind them honestly if they weren't literally all named "star that hates Melkor" "star that hates melkor 2" "star that shows we all want to kill melkor with weapons" above his head 24/7. Varda hates Melkor more than Melkor hates him, but of course that adds up to a Lot. She is the goddess of light which just. Well they really truly do not like each other

Nienna- Imagine having a bitch designated specifically just to be sad about everything you do. Very annoying. Get over yourself. You can just not be sad about it. There's an upside in knowing his actions have caused so much suffering because you know, that's what he's going for, but the idea of Nienna still just disgusts him. He feels as if his domain has been invaded and inverted towards Eru's purpose, which has been. A major point of contention. Over the years

Vana- She obviously gets hated simply thru association with Yavanna. She has personally offended him less, but it bothers him a lot that he has had such little effect on her. He's made Yavanna cry a lot in canon but Vana just . Can get through anything, she's there no matter what, she's happy no matter what. It makes him Sad

Namo/Mandos- This is a really weird one for Melkor because for him it's like. Going to the mall in your most fucked up and insane outfit to piss people off on purpose and then you see someone who looks even cooler and goth-er but they have a lot of friends with them and seem mentally healthy and it's honestly really getting to you. There are things about the world that he knows that Melkor doesn't and that makes Melkor want to fucking eat himself. Also he kept Melkor in a cage for 3000 years and literally never even made conversation. Melkor cannot tell if he wants to be friends with this dude or wipe him off the face of Arda but neither of those are options in any world

Tulkas- You'd think this dude would be higher on the list, but Melkor rarely thinks about Tulkas and often forgets the dude exists. Obviously it pisses him off that some random guy jacked as hell came in and beat his ass more than once and he has zero other purpose in life. But as to being a nemesis of Melkor, Tulkas thinks himself much higher on the list than he really is. It's kind of funny

Oromë- Melkor's main beef with Oromë comes from the dude and his people constantly one-shotting his Beautifully Handcrafted Beasts, and to a lesser extent him telling the elves about the trees, but there would be a lot less fun in making increasingly Fucked Up Creatures if they didn't have someone to fight, and well. He didn't really like the elves anyway. Mairon hates him more, personally, because of Huan, but on principle Oromë doesn't bother Melkor too much.

Estë- Although it is rather frustrating to have someone who can heal trauma which you worked so tirelessly to inflict, Estë's power is rather limited and doesn't often come into play. It's like someone comforting your ex who you haven't thought about in years and going ohhh he sucked he was awful you're perfect like. Ok? Like you're Wrong but it's not like this matters very much after the fact

Aulë- Melkor has very little to say against Aulë other than those like two times he yelled at Mairon during the years of the lamps. Aesthetically a really great guy, great ideas with weapons and volcanos and machinery and giant stone halls and whatnot. But seriously not a fan of the big chain. Melkor even thinks big chains are super cool. Just not like. Around him. Without consent ofc

Vairë- Melkor says keep on making awesome tapestries of people fighting against me and losing. Go ahead give him bigger horns make him look really scary. No notes just didn't like the hundred years she spent making a weaving of him sitting in a jail cell.

Irmo/Lorien- As much as he doesn't really have anything in common with Irmo, there's nothing really to complain about. Melkor is rather good at invading dreams and enjoys fucking with people thru them, so rather glad they exist. It is a pretty decent art medium and can make torture interesting. Generally not a threat unless in the rare and vague case of prophetic dreams which are just not heeded very often. Irmo can send some elf a thousand dreams of Melkor's battle plans and they will forget 99% of it within a minute of waking up

Nessa- She's pretty solidly on the bottom despite being almost entirely irrelevant because well, Nessa has done nothing to ever bother Melkor. He likes deer and dancing as much as the next guy (especially the fucked up kind) and they would probably get along at a party provided she didn't recognize him lol. She probably doesn't even talk too much about her cringefail husband

Indifference to Don't Even Mind This One

[lya-dustin]

The moon lives in the lining of your skin

Chapter 1

(Reposted after deleting my lotr sideblog)

Summary: in which Melian and Thingol are not the only Maia-Elf romance ti have existed in middle earth

The first time he had seen her she had been tending to a grove that had been burned during a sudden wildfire that consumed the outlying villages of his realm.

When they had left it had the bareness of a battlefield, but as the maia spun and danced in her moss green dress it came back to life.

He wonders if this was how Thingol felt when he met his beloved Melian.

Was he as entranced by Melian as Gil-Galad was of this red-haired creature dancing in the sunlight?

He had been out riding, wearing none of his sigils or anything that would let her know he was the King of the lands she was in. Gil-Galad supposed that made it better, especially when she picked up her skirts and gave him a mischievous smile.

“Come find me.” She had whispered as she took off running and laughing as the woods returned to life behind her.

Gil-Galad raced after her, but he never did find the mysterious maiden.

"Lóteriel, I will find you ,Lóteriel!" the Elven King shouts to the trees.

The second time he saw her, she was sitting by a river, and he had gotten lost and injured on a hunt gone wrong.

Had he been in a better condition he may have heard the rushing of a swift current hiding under still waters of a seemingly shallow river.

Had he been paying attention to anything else but his relief at finding her he wouldn’t have stepped into the river.

“My lady, save me.” The words were lost in the roaring of the current. “Save me, Lóteriel.”

The river was enchanted to keep intruders out, had Erinti not been there he would have drowned and never found.

No orc, no troll, no human, no elf, no dwarf and no harfoots have ever survived it. Even the entwives who lived with her knew better than to get in it.

But this elf had not known that, to him it appears like any narrow river, and he cannot hear the way the current rushes faster than any of Oromë’s horses.

Erinti could not guard an entire kingdom like Melian did with her girdle, but this part of the hills was a small haven itself. A haven this elf lord had broken into and would have paid for with his life.

But he was quite handsome and rather obvious in his infatuation with her, so she believed it would be very awful if he perished and hoped Eru did not punish her for stealing a life that may have been needed in Mandos.

Erinti had taken him out of the river, but most of the damage had been done, his poor horse would never be found and the rider had far too many injuries for her liking. He may be one of the eldar, but not even the eldar was immune to injuries like that.

Erinti may be a servant of Yavanna and Vanna, but her healing abilities were meager at best. Her abilities lied in making nature awake in spring or after a disaster, not saving people.

“You are rather bold to enter my realm.” She said placing her hands again on his broken leg. It was really broken, like if they had been humans, they would’ve just killed the man. “Had I not been there you would have died along with your horse.”

“Forgive me, my lady, I was overtaken by your beauty.” As he is now, the ellon was young barely in his majority, and like all young people, he is easily beguiled by her unnatural beauty.

Enough to almost kill himself earlier this evening.

“A rather stupid thing to do, my lord.” She scolded him. “What is your name?” she asked as he got comfortable in her modest bed.

He was wearing an old tunic Erinti had from their time in Doriath and still damp from the river, but he showed no signs of discomfort and pain…yet.

There is a pause, a telltale sign that he is lying by omission. “Rodnor, or Artanaro if you prefer Quenya over Sindarin.”

A noldo, she should have known by his looks. Noldos have gray eyes with hints of golden brown or even black like coal.

Sindarin and Silvan elves had hints of green, Teleri blue like the sea, the Vanyar the yellow gold sunshine or the cool silver of the moonlight.

Rodnor’s eyes shine like clear diamonds, like the brightest of Varda’s stars.

Finwë used to have eyes like that, all his children had eyes like that with the exception of Finarfin who had the golden hues of the Vanyar.

Rarely did sons inherit their eye colors of their mothers, but Finarfin was one of those rare cases.

A shame Erinti did not have much knowledge about the Finweans. Who could his father be?

“Well met, noble fire, I apologize for what happens next and hope you do not hold it against me.” She takes advantage of the improper thoughts he is getting as her hands moved from his ankle to his knee. The tunic fit him a bit shorter than it had when she had worn it as Melian’s sometimes brother, that combined with his infatuation with her spelled trouble for the both of them.

If Erinti had applied herself to the healing arts, she could find a less painful way to set broken bones, but she does not know any other way. At least his bones had not splintered, splinters made healing difficult, could leave a flaw even Melian could not heal without great difficulty.

He tries to bite back the pain, but he is sweating and shouting by the time his broken leg returns to its original state. “You are a terrible healer, my lady.” He says as he tries to compose himself.

“Call me Erinti, but I like the name you gave me so much I wish to keep it.” She said making it worse.

“Lóteriel.” The sound of it is so beautiful it makes her heart sing. “Lothíriel, in Sindarin.”

Crowned with Flowers.

It was rather sweet of him to give her a name, and such a lovely name it was.

Maybe she should rejoin society for a while, just to make sure he does not die.

[outofangband]

warnings for distorted familiar terms between the Valar (ie, Oromë calling Tulkas his brother, etc), Melkor being himself 

this is not a typical piece for me! Yes, it does involve Melkor being creepy but it’s not about Maedhros and it’s well before he was even born! 

this is my interpretation of this scene!! Because I’ve been utterly obsessed with it. How far would Manwë have let Melkor go? Where would he have drawn the line? How far would Tulkas have played along if Melkor hadn’t angered him so much by insulting Manwë? How would the other Valar react? 

I haven’t been able to decide on answers to these questions but hopefully this will be the start of something more! 

masterlist 

as this is a rare non Maedhros piece I wasn’t sure if I should tag the people I usually do?

“Patience, my friend.” Aulë tried and failed to hide a smile as Tulkas pounded a fist against the gate and drew back for a second. There too in his eyes was a glint of anticipation. 

“No blame I hold the both of you in for desiring hasty action!” Manwë says, “But to do battle here with Melko would only damage this land further. We must attempt first to speak with him. Use guile if we must.” Aulë didn’t argue though neither did he attempt to soothe those of his kin who appeared dissatisfied with this. Oromë approached his king, shaking his head. 

“I second Tulukhastāz” he says stoutly, “The time has gone beyond words for the words of Melko shall give us nought but deceit.” 

Manwë stood lost in thought as a pillar crumbled by Tulkas’s touch. He did not shy away from Oromë’s anger.

“Deceit, I believe you right. But should we encroach by force now will he not merely flee? We know of the many tunnels he has constructed beneath.”

Manwë then called out to Melkor and reluctantly Tulkas stopped kicking at the pieces of the pillar. Oromë had never before seen his brother so agitated. 

“Let the demon flee,” he says coldly, “I shall hunt him as I do any other monster.” The words were bold even from him but the king did not appear ruffled. 

“Arômêz,” he merely says gently, “We do not want him to flee. We need him constrained.”

“Aye,” Aulë says and gestures to the Maiar who have accompanied them to hold the great chain, “Tis a waste to use such a force.” Oromë gave a low chuckle and Manwë looked for a moment as though he would say something but then fell silent. There is an unease through the host at the distinct lack of sounds from within. Tulkas is closest to the gates and spots the messenger first. He grabs Oromë’s arm even as he gestures to his king 

“My lord!” He calls and Manwë turns.

“Lord Melko is pleased to know the Gods have found his abode,” speaks the oily voice of the servant, Langon. 

“He should gladly entertain you,” the servant says with the faintest trace of a sneer, “But he finds himself far too busy to keep His abode in fit state for such venerable guests. Should two enter he shall speak with thee. But! Neither Mânawenûz nor Tulukhastāz should enter. That is his word.”

Tulkas felt a flash of anger at this. He was hardly surprised that coward would refuse him entry but the nerve of him to refuse Lord Manwë when the king was the only one who fought to end this peacefully for both sides?

“Melko’s fear of you, My Lord and of Tulukastāz? Could we not use this to our advantage? He clearly wants you not in his halls. Should we enter peacefully with you an upper hand might be ours.” Aulë suggests. 

Manwë seems to fade away as he thinks. But his voice is perfectly level. “Yes,” he says slowly, “Yes, you are right. Loath am I to employ deceit in turn, let alone against one who has so mastered it, a ruse is perhaps our only chance.” He beckons to his servant and dictates a letter.

"A message from Mânawenûz ! The Valar have come to ask the forgiveness of thee for they have known thy fury and seek to amend what they have done in their foolishness and haste. In Valinor we have asked what best way to amend and alas! Without Lord Melko himself among us we might not right our wrongs against him! For he is the greatest among us and surely Valinor suffers for his absence! In truth, Tulkas  would not assent but I, Manwë ordered him constrained with violence so we might come to thee now and plead for thy pardon!"

They do not speak as they await the return of the servant. Oromë sends Nahar off into the woods and Tulkas stacks rocks. But they do not have to wait in the uncomfortable silence for long. 

The answer returned is hasty and Manwë practically feels the excitement that exudes from the material. Whether or not he had bought the ruse, the offer of the chance to humiliate them had been enough to persuade him. He then sees the conditions that Melkor has laid out and turns to his kin, handing it first to Ulmo simply as he stood closest. Manwë watched the atmosphere become more and more agitated as they took in the response.

"You are agreeing to this?!" Oromë snapped, “You wish for my brother to what…?” 

“Enter in chains,” Ulmo says bluntly as Manwë silently rereads the response from Melkor. He’s gone through it several times already but looks as focused as the first, as though this time he is sure he will spot some new, secret information to aid them.

“Tis not a terrible plan,” Aulë says slowly, “Indeed I could not devise on such short notice another way to ensure that Angaino is brought in without arising suspicion at once.”

“And what precisely is Melko to do with him?!” Oromë said angrily. Tulkas looked uncharacteristically quiet.

“A3ûlêz is right. We must bring Angaino and we will have no other weapons! If Lord Manwë agrees I shall go as described. Fear not, brother. Melko shall have neither chance nor allowance to do harm to me. A blow or two will do me no injury.”

Oromë does not appear satisfied at this. Nessa sways on her feet, looking from one to the other. 

“Is it merely that which he wants?” she asks softly, “To strike you? Tis far too close to equal retribution for his taste.” 

“We will not find out what he wants but should he speak it,” Aulë says firmly, “We shall not allow him to act upon it.” Manwë looks troubled. 

“Constrained with violence,” repeats Ulmo, “A3ûlêz, do you require my aid in this?” 

“In what?” Nessa and Aulë speak at the same time. 

“Melko will not believe we have constrained Tulukastāz by words alone,” the Lord of Waters says. Tulkas nods in agreement.

“If I did not know better I would proclaim thee far too eager to land blows to me,” Tulkas makes a brave attempt at a smile. Ulmo’s expression softens for but a moment as Aulë has his Maiar bring forth the great chain. 

Nessa shakes her head, every bit of her seeming to burst with restless energy so her very form flashes. 

“I am sorry, brother,” Aulë mutters as the others cast their weapons aside. 

“Bold of thee to presume that thy beating shall cause me any pain,” Tulkas teases lightly as he holds out his arms. Aulë clapped his shoulder in approval. “Good.”

 Manwë watches with distant eyes as the youngest of their kin is struck several times. He falls to his knees though only because he allows himself to. Aulë tightens the chains around his arms and neck so his tunic is torn in many places. The lord of the forges murmurs an apology and receives a small but sincere laugh.

“Should I care more for my clothing than the prospect of a peaceful land for the Children, I would not have come with thee.” 

(an important note is that not only did  Manwë agree to this in the text but it was his idea for Tulkas to be given to “Melko’s power and pleasure”. I have to admit this almost coolly pragmatic side of Manwë is utterly fascinating to me, this Manwë who might not understand the depths of evil but knows enough to exploit his brother’s sadism in such a way. And I want so badly to know how far it would have gone had Melkor not made Tulkas angry enough with his insult to Manwë. Can you all just imagine, the other Valar having to watch as Tulkas is what....tortured? Humiliated? We can only speculate what “Melko’s power and pleasure” entails. And they have to pretend they were in favor of this? Sneaking glimpses at Manwë to try and discern where he might draw the line? ahhhh way too many thoughts....)

[mothdalf]

@finweanladiesweek

DAY ONE: Míriel Þerindë and Indis

I’ve depicted them both in their wedding gowns here, sort of two different moments in time linked together.

Under the cut is a VERY long head-canon/meta that eventually kind of turned into a fic, hidden in case you just want to focus on the art.

Indis is a Vanyar lady from the House of Ingwë, I like to think she was close in age to Finwë and they met when the Vanyar and Noldor first arrived in Valinor. They end up dancing and socialising at pretty much every event and are pretty good friends. That friendship has the potential to change into something romantic. But what’s the rush? They’re immortal. He’s a king, finally establishing a safe place for his people. There’s no danger here. No need to produce heirs. No need to marry the first person you dance with.

Míriel didn’t enter the picture until later. I like to think of her as half-Telerin hence her silver hair. Her parents were a Noldor nis and a Telerin ner who met during the great journey, her mother choosing to remain with her husband and the Teleri who lingered East of the sea. As a result Míriel was born on Tol Eressëa, and is quite a bit younger than Finwë and Indis.

Despite her typically Telerin looks, Míriel was a Noldor at heart and immersed herself in Noldorin culture and craft, soon settling on embroidery and weaving. She even journeyed to the House of Vairë to further her textiles skills and learn from the Vala and her Maiar.

I like the idea that many elves in Valinor follow a specific Valar, learning from them and acting as emissaries and ambassadors and links between them and the elves. Any elf can choose this (e.g. Celegorm and Oromë) but it is more common among the Vanyar. It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So they meet in the House of Vairë. And they’re very different. Indis is philosophical, interested in the themes, and the music, and the history of Vairë’s tapestries; Míriel inspects the stitches with a magnifying glass, and has to be stopped more than once from teasing the fibres apart to see how they’re woven together.

Indis channels logic and a cool composure, very insightful and granted foresight in many matters. She’s mindful, and always present, finding pleasure in this very moment. Míriel buzzes with ideas, sometimes her head hurts and she can’t think straight because she HAS to work through this next project, move on to the next one, she can’t step away she can’t stop. And her composure can be obliterated by one blow to her pride.

But somehow the friendship works, opposites attract sometimes. And upon their return from the house of Vairë, Míriel invites Indis to Alqualondë. And after that they visit each other often, and share letters once Míriel has learned to write Sarati. And if those letters ever start to take on a more flirting tone- well there’s no rush for them either.

It’s on one of these visits that they run into Finwë, Indis introduces her new friend, and the rest is history. It’s only after this that Indis turns her keen insight on herself and has an “oh shhiiit” moment. And now her best friends are engaged and what is she supposed to do?

She helps Míriel dress for her wedding day, arranging jewels, combing her hair, lifting the heavy embroidered fabric of the wedding dress she worked for months on over her head, and finally placing her crown on top.

They’re happy. She’s happy for them. There’s no betrayal or tricks or seduction, just love. Besides it’s probably better Finwë marries a Noldor woman anyway.

So when Míriel announces that she’s expecting a baby, Indis is sure the dull foreboding she feels is nothing but jealousy from a deep part of herself that she tries to shut away. She watches and helps Míriel as she pours all her creative efforts into beautiful things for this baby. Toys and clothes and blankets and anything else she can think of. Indis teases that the child won’t have to repeat an outfit for at least 100years at this rate. They take a trip back to the place they met and work together at one of Vairë’s vast looms to make a tapestry mural for the nursery.

But soon the frenzied crafting starts to slow. And slow more. Until Míriel barely bothers to do anything. People who know her are worried, but she just takes her husbands hand and says that she’s tired, after all she is working on something special at the moment.

When Fëanáro is born Indis watches her friend scream and curse, and eventually weep with joy as she whispers to her husband “he’s the most perfect thing we’ve ever made”

Things do get better for a while. But Míriel’s eye starts to twitch when people congratulate Finwë on their son, until eventually she barks out “of course he’d get the credit! I only did all the hard work” in a rough, sarcastic laugh that’s so unlike her. She doesn’t go to any formal events after this.

She sobs to her husband that she’s frightened. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s happy, except that she’s not. She finds no joy and no inspiration, she’s cold and tired and feels like she’s fading away.

Finwë suggests a trip away, so they go back to Míriels house in Alqualondë, and she doesn’t feel as watched, as judged, less angry and paranoid.

But the grief doesn’t lift. She can’t settle to work, she can’t find anything she wants to work on, her head is emptied of ideas and full of fog and she just wants to sleep.

Indis comes to visit them and finds Míriel in the nursery one evening, crying quietly. At first she won’t talk, simply saying that she doesn’t want to wake him, but the tears don’t stop and eventually she whimpers that she’s scared, and she’s disgusted with herself. Because she loves her son so much, but she can’t help but resent him. In some small dark part of her mind she’s angry with him, for taking her happy life away from her, taking her strength and her drive.

Indis takes her hands and pulls her to her feet and down the stairs to Finwë. “we’re going to Lorien. Tonight. Staying here isn’t helping her and she needs more than this.” She towers over both of them and there’s no arguing with her tone.

Irmo and Estë help all they can. Nienna helps more. Eventually Míriel calms. Almost eerily.

One night she calls Indis to the garden of Lorien. Míriel embraces her and kisses her cheeks and thanks her for her help. She holds her hands and tells her she’s sorry, but she’s made her choice.

Indis tried to change her mind. So does Finwë when he runs toward the sound of a raised voice. Not Míriel this time.

She asks Indis for a moment with her husband. And Indis runs to fetch Fëanáro.

She hands the baby to Míriel and asks how she can leave him, he needs her.

Míriel’s face crumples but her resolve doesn’t. “I’ve already given him everything I have”

She presses the baby into her husbands arms and kisses him before lying down on the stone bench and closing her eyes. Míriel sighs, finally feeling peaceful, and doesn’t breath again.

After the resulting uproar has died down, Indis doesn’t see Finwë very much. She visits occasionally and reads his letters about Fëanáro’s brilliant progress eagerly, but nothing is ever as it was.

When they meet again by accident on Oiolossë, it all comes back to them both. They’ve missed each other, they miss Miriel, but they don’t have to loose each other. So they fall in love, and she comes back with him to Tirion while they make a plan. Fëanáro (the equivalent of a 10yo) is wonderfully pleasant to her, he asks about his mother a lot, and shows her all the things he’s learning about and working on. He’s so like Miriel that Indis doesn’t know how Finwë stands it.

When they first tell him that they want to get married, he doesn’t think much of it, at least until he picks up on the gossip and controversy, it’s only then that he starts to realise that something is different.

Indis gets ready for her own wedding without her best friend.

Fëanáro doesn’t take the Statute well, and the problems start. He decides to move away to continue his studies. Indis is not invited to visit him when his Father is.

Finwë is terrified when Indis gets pregnant with their first child, but she’s not. “I am not Miriel. As much as some might wish that were the case.”

The relationship between Fëanáro and his half siblings is a whole separate post. But the things he says about her and her children hurt Indis.

Sometimes she wants to scream at him “I knew your mother! I was her friend! I lost her too! She would hate to hear you talk to me this way!” but she won’t. She can see how he feels and she understands why, but this doesn’t mean she takes the way he treats her children lightly, and he wishes Finwë would back her more in this. But she bares it, and she teaches her children to be kind.

This all changes with the incident. Fëanáro can lash out, he can say cruel things, but he has never threatened one of her children before. And he never will again if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. She hears the Valar’s judgement, and knows she will comfort Finwë over his sons banishment, as much as she is grateful for it.

The rage she feels when Finwë decides to go with him is cosmic. But it’s when she sees Nolofinwë’s face that she snaps. She tells him with eyes sharper than any sword that if he chooses to go, he can never come back to her. No matter what happens between his sons, she will never forgive him for what he’s doing to her’s.

The news of his death makes her heart hurt in the strangest way. She’s closed herself off from him but the pain bleeds through. At least now he can be with Miriel, she thinks. He made it clear where his heart truly lay when he left. She laughs until she sobs, then composes herself to comfort her children.

She nearly sends Fëanáro to reunite with his father in Mandos when he insights her children and grandchildren to follow him across the sea. She nearly faints when Arafinwë comes back baring tidings of the kinslaying, the streets Míriel showed her around littered with bodies and the beach they would walk along in the evening wet with blood.

Indis stands beside her youngest son when he’s crowned and moves back into her old rooms in Tirion, abandoned when Finwë left for Formenos. After all, she’s been a ruling queen for longer than Arafinwë has lived. She’ll make a good advisor.

In Mandos Míriel is faced by the life she chose to leave behind. First her husband, and then her son. She speaks with Finwë for a long time, and many hurts are healed, but they’ve both made choices they can’t take back. Míriel stands by her decision, she chose to stay, at least in part so Finwë could move on, they make their peace with other, and she encourages him to return and make peace with his other wife. News of their son’s death stops him. He knows that he will remain, it’s with Fëanáro that his heart truly lies, not Míriel, whatever Indis may think. So he appeals for her to be allowed to leave in his place, every inch the king as he points out that the statute will remain unbroken.

She is allowed to see Fëanáro once before she leaves. There are no words for how she feels. So sad, so proud. She’s so sorry to leave him again, but she promises to watch over his sons.

Míriel returns to life, but she doesn’t return to the life she left. She stays close to the halls, and goes to a timeless place, but one she knows well.

It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So much is different, and there’s a lot to work through, and it’s hard. But being back where they began, with a new life for each of them, is made easier with this reprise of their youth.

And if, as their friendship blooms again into a new form, Míriel eventually asks about the specific wording of the statute, and what it means for them being the two living parts of this three person marriage, well- there’s no rush to figure it out.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

i just read your entire blog from beginning to end. i kept on saying 'ive read enough time to do something productive,' but there was just so much good stuff :) the 'great divorce' analysis of feanor made me grin like a loon and i just never stopped. anyway. i was wondering about your thoughts on fingolfin, he's been my favorite silm character since i first muddled my way through the book ages ago but he gets very little online love and ive often wondered why

Wow! That’s extremely flattering, thank you very much!

My basic reaction to Fingolfin is the typical one of: EPIC. BADASS. The Duel of Fingolfin and Morgoth is one of my favourite passages in The Silmarillion. And there’s wonderful dramatic irony in Fingolfin being the one to fulfull his brother’s boast of Such hurt will I do to this Enemy of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear of it. [Note to self: future post on Fëanor and his gift for misinterpreted foresight?] If Fëanor were a different kind of person, he’d be pleased by Fingolfin managing to hurt Morgoth, but given his deep resentment for his half-siblings (which could only have gotten stronger when he learned that Fingolfin had become king) it likely only increased his bitterness, as if this accomplishment were yet another thing Fingolfin had taken from him. In contrast, I think Tulkas and Oromë were very impressed, and among the first to congratulate Fingolfin when he returned to life.

Beyond that, Fingolfin strikes me as someone whose life has been very heavily characterized by duty and who has had to put aside his own feelings and desires. During the Return, he doesn’t want to leave Valinor; he ‘marches against his wisdom’, because he has promised to follow where Fëanor leads and because his people need steadier guidance than Fëanor can provide. He has been the de facto king of the Noldor for the last seven years, and that must give him a strong sense of responsibility to his people. He goes even though he’s leaving behind hus wife and, eventually, his younger brother; there’s no choice he can make that won’t involving losing some of his family, since his children are determined to go.

Why doesn’t he turn back after the burning of the ships? In part it’s because he doesn’t want to abandon his children, or to drag them back to face the judgement of the Valar (Fingon and Aredhel are both Kinslayers; given her impulsive, determined personality and her friendships with the Fëanorians I have no doubt that Aredhel fought on their part. I don’t think Fingolfin himself is a Kinslayer, as the Silmarillion never says he was and it would be a rather major omission.) In part it’s pride and rage. It’s one thing to turn back after the Doom, as Finarfin did, out of the knowledge that you’ve done wrong. It’s another thing to have been willing to do wrong, to have wanted to use the stolen ships, and to turn back only because you were denied the opportunity. There’s no morality or conscience in that, only pure humiliation. So he goes on.

And after he arrives in Middle-earth and Fingon rescues Maedhros, Fingolfin has to put aside his anger and the growing rift in his family and choose reconciliation. And he pursues it wholeheartedly, working to build cooperation not only between his followers and the Fëanorians, but between the Noldor and the Sindar (and neither the younger Fëanorians nor Thingol are making that eany easier!).

(Fingolfin knows what it feels like to have your parent choose between children; he had to experience has father responding to Fëanor’s death threats by choosing Fëanor over him. What does it cost him, I wonder, to have to choose between the wishes of his own sons; to have to tell Turgon, I know your wife is dead because of them, but we’re working with them anyway?)

I’ll conclude with some headcanons on Fingolfin in the Halls of Mandos. I think Fingolfin would be very slow to forgive Maedhros after the events of the First Age, if indeed he ever did. Precisely because he did sincerely forgive Maedhros after the rescue from Thangorodrim, and trusted him as they worked together over the later centuries, and had confidence that even after Fingolfin’s death Maedhros would continue to do what was best for Beleriand. The second and third kinslayings must have come as a horrific betrayal of that trust. (In addition to Maedhros getting Fingon killed! Maedhros, Fingolfin and Turgon are all strongly of the opinion that Maedhros is to blame for Fingon’s death; Fingon is equally vehemently of the contrary opinion.) And having give that trust before and found it to be so terribly misplaced, why would Fingolfin ever be inclined to offer it again?

(I have extensive opinions on which characters - family and otherwise - forgive Maedhros and Maglor, and when, and how; it’s a very complex and emotional process and makes up about 90% of my post-Silm headcanons.)

One more Halls headcanon, this one slightly less sad.

I think that after his death, Finwë doesn’t appear to or talk to most of his descendents in the Halls for a long time, largely out of embarassment over his parenting decisions and their consequences. (I’m getting this partly from The Leithian Script and partly from one of his lines after his death indicating that he thinks Indis wouldn’t really want to see him again, given how everything turned out.) He tries to talk to Fëanor, but Fëanor’s wrapped up in his own thoughts and not really percieving anything outside them.

But Finwë loves his grandchildren, and at some point in the Second Age he tries to talk to Aredhel. She’s having a very bad time of it and has been deeply unhappy ever since the Fall of Gondolin and the news of what her son became, and Finwë does know what it’s like to wonder how many of your childrens’ decisions are due to your parenting. So he tries to comfort her.

And Aredhel just explodes at him. AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS OF SILENCE, YOU’RE COMING AND TALKING TO ME? ME?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MY FATHER HAS WANTED TO SEE YOU? HOW MUCH TIME HE’S SPENT LOOKING FOR YOU? YOU LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO TALK TO HIM RIGHT. FREAKING. NOW OR SO HELP ME -

Finwë is quite taken aback and stunned enough that he actually does go talk to Fingolfin, and Fingolfin is extremely happy to talk to his father and has some valuable perspective to offer on how, after everything he and his people have seen and done in Middle-earth, sub-par parenting decisions barely even register on the list of things a person could be ashamed of. After you’ve left the bodies of your people scattered across the Ice - after you’ve had to order men into battle - after you’ve had to turn away thralls escaped from Angband because you don’t know if they’re sleeper agents - your perspective on what constitutes a difficult decision starts to shift.

The outburst also does Aredhel good because it’s the first time since the Fall of Gondolin that she’s given any thought to the well-being of anyone other than herself or Maeglin, and is thus a major step forward in reaching outside her own unhappiness and starting to heal.

[skyeventide]

the Dagor Dagorath is near. we set the scene a few centuries before the final battle and follow the story of some elves you do not know... and some you very well might.

gon post this on AO3 when it’s finished but have the first part here in the meantime.

*note about “laiqendi”: I’m not missing a U, the word is in qenya

-------------- 1

Cemenien was daughter to parents who had worked the earth in a far hamlet of the south of Aman, dwelling in the plains of Yavanna, on the edge of the thick woods of the Lord of Forests and just west of the circling Pelóri.

She was born during the Noontide of Valinor, a time half mythical, half forgotten to those who had come after. She had been named daughter-of-the-earth by her mother, and Valinë by her father, who wished for her happiness. In later years, both names bore great irony to her, who had risen tall and proud to the chance of leaving for a new home.

Hilyatúrë Nildur was born in Tirion in the same age. His mother named him a loving servant and his father, for he had strong opinions about the Princes and their Houses, named him mighty-follower. Nildur followed indeed, and he wielded the sword with the same strength with which he used to wield the pen.

But why he should be a servant of the loving, he never quite understood.

Cemenien and Nildur never met during the wars of Beleriand; she died during the Dagor Bragollach and he during the Nírnaeth Arnoediad.

When Nildur at last returned to his likeness in Aman, he lay himself to his parents’ feet, on the steps of their house, and asked that he be freed of all his duties, of all the pain that it had brought him. Thus, he kissed them and his brother goodbye and left Tirion through the southern gate, setting forth towards the arduous task of forgetting.

Cemenien yearned for a body longer and more bitterly, and it was not until she had sweated and cried out that bitterness as mortals would a fever that she was allowed to return. She did not go to Tirion, she did not breathe the sea; instead, she headed home, for there were things that she regretted, and she had deliberated that the highest form of healing for herself and those she had most hurt was not expecting that they grant her forgiveness.

Both Cemenien and Nildur had loved, once, but had never married. Though some say that love is like the mountains, weathering storms and time unchanged, an immortal soul may find itself too altered by the passing of the eras. As they both had grown into another maturity, born of grief and betrayal, they found that seeking solace in each other was perhaps a deserved sort of peace.

When she birthed their firstborn son, as she lay exhausted by labour on their nuptial bed, Nildur wrapped the child in their richest piece of cloth, dyed with the crunched shells of the coasts and threaded in gold, and placed him in her arms.

Inspired as often are those that are come newly into motherhood, she named him Culdaner.

A name in Quenya was perhaps uncommon in the southern pastures, where elves who were not Eldar or had not crossed the mountains in nights long past were now in great numbers. They had come to Aman either through death or through the journey on the Straight Road, and had brought with them ancient dialects, mingling them with Sindarin; children of woods and moors and yet drier lands, they had picked the forests and the fields as their dwelling.

Indeed, it was in the north that Quenya was still spoken, that had never ceased being spoken, for the Vanyar still sat gladly at the feet of Taniquetil.

But Cemenien’s hamlet too had those who had never left and Quenya, in greetings and in names, was oft still in use.

Nildur and Cemenien’s neighbour had recently had her second child, a daughter much wanted. Lothril thus came to their house with a cordial of sweet mead and a knowing smile.

She said to Cemenien: « Drink it and recover from that pallor. »

With weary arms, Cemenien took the cordial and sipped miruvor, its new recipe brought back from Middle Earth, spreading vital strength in her tired limbs.

« I would happily tell you that the second time is easier », Lothril said also, « but I’d be lying. To me, it truly was not. »

Cemenien laughed. « There will not be a second time, believe you me. »

For she felt that she had given this one her everything.

As she nursed the new-born, Nildur worked their land and picked up the quill again, and during their nights he sat by the babe’s cradle, his attempts at bringing him sleep varying between caresses, songs, repeated pleas, and a curious form of market bartering.

He oft returned to his wife with a great sigh. « Blessed Irmo when he brings slumber. »

« You know what they say about sleep, that it is only for the weak and the reasonable. »

« …Who says that? »

« …Just me, dear. Just me. »

So they toiled, but joyfully, and they thought their new life satisfying and their serenity sufficient.

When Culdaner was but a child who could only walk by holding the hand of his mother, an elf came to the house approaching down the dusty path that twisted and turned between the crops gardens, and he had dark hair and blue eyes that shone of lost light, and a short beard grew on his face, for he was in the third age of his life.

« My name », he said, « is Ondomacil. I came to see Cemenien, as I understand she is returned and has a child now. »

Though Nildur did not call her, for he wondered at the stone-hard set of the stranger’s brows, she soon was on the threshold of her house, her hand against the door she had herself carved anew. Bare-footed, a shadow over her eyes, she descended to the gate.

« Nildur, this is my grandfather. » Thus Cemenien opened the gate and welcomed her kin with restrained gestures and slow steps. Long did they speak inside the house and long did Nildur wonder at what was said, as his hands parted the soil to plant seeds.

In the shadow of the kitchen, Ondomacil sat without drink or food, for his granddaughter had never been one who favoured politeness above all else, and the most delicious apple cider could not sweeten whatever words they had to share.

At length, he begun: « Has your mother, or your father, returned? »

« Neither has », Cemenien answered, « and if they did return, should they be permitted to and should they want to, I did not see them. »

« It has been many ages, many years. Enough that I no longer count them. »

In the darkness of Mandos, Cemenien had watched the tapestries of history unfurl; little else there was for her to look at but her own sorrows. « They died in Doriath », she said, and added nothing.

« Did you find what you sought across the sea? »

Cemenien could forgive the question but did not forgive that he was he who asked it. All words she may have spoken reached Ondomacil as bile rises to one’s stomach after an ill-considered feast, so he bowed his head, his movement stiff but his apology true.

« I did not come for your anger », he said.

« Then do not ask me of what we sought or what might have been. I sought everything and found nothing, and was left with the shell of me. But you spoke rightly, it has been many ages. »

Her grandfather lifted his head and gazed upon her, a softness now mellowing in his voice. « I do not know for how long you have been here. I left this place a long time ago and now dwell in the forest with the Laiqendi and some of the Ingwi. But words fly as the birds – I hear you have a son. »

« Yea, he is but a toddler still. »

Ondomacil smiled; Cemenien recalled how her grandfather’s smiles sat upon his face as something chiselled with great and gentle care from harsh rock: the years had not changed them.

« May I see him? », he asked.

Culdaner sat on the bedroom floor running his small hands on the crotchet of the sheets’ rim; she picked him up and brought him to see his great-grandfather, who held him on his knees like a precious gift.

Ondomacil only left when the Sun had begun descending with her chariot and the Star of Eärendil shone radiant in the red forge of the sky.

Nildur found his wife with Culdaner on her legs. They sat in front of one another as she relayed her conversation with Ondomacil.

« He was not in Beleriand, I take it », he said softly.

Cemenien shook her head. « Nay, but he has seen it. He has no father nor mother, for he was of the Tatyar, and once he had left Endor he chose not to return. »

« I did wonder at the scars on his arms. »

Ondomacil had taken his name as an epessë during the Great Journey, when the darkness encroached upon the host of the Eldar. Stone-sword, first after the weapons that the elves had devised out of sharpened rocks, and in later times after the blades that Oromë gifted them, so that they may protect themselves against the nameless dangers of the long unwinding road.

More at home among the Avari that had come to Aman, he invited the family that he had left among the woods upon his departure. Later, Nildur and Cemenien sat with their son in their garden, to gaze upon the bright stars.

It was in this age that Mandos came to Manwë atop Taniquetil and made it known that his Halls were at last emptied of all souls. Thus Manwë turned to Eru’s plan and saw that the time of Arda Marred was coming to a close and the cycles of the world were near their end.

[grundyscribbling]

That last art reblog made me start thinking Finwë/Miriel/Indis again (as I do from time to time), and I decided I’d write out some of my headcanons about them, because who knows how long it will be before it really makes it into any fic.

It’s on the long side, so cut to spare everyone’s dash...

When the elves first awoke in Cuivienen, there were no “Laws and Customs”. Everything was new to them, and there were no rules but whatever they decided on for themselves.

Some elves, like Indis and Ingwë, woke up feeling kinship to other elves, and eventually the words ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ were made for elves like them. Others, like Miriel, awoke to find themselves without such close kin, but counted it no great loss, for the world was wondrous and the stars fair.

In those days, there was nothing to say an elf could not be drawn to more than one other elf as a mate, any more than there was to say that mates had to be of opposite sex. How elves chose to pair up was regarded as their own business, and no one gave much thought to it. When Finwë, Miriel, and Indis declared themselves mates despite there being three of them instead of two, no one quibbled, unique though it was. They were happy, and all was well.

The elves encountered the Hunter well before they encountered the Valar, and people began to disappear. The first time one of those disappeared died was a shock unprecedented in the elven experience - the mate of the missing elf knew immediately that something terrible had happened, that their mate was simply not there anymore. The entire community rallied around the bereaved survivor, and tried as best they could to help them carry on. When, eventually, the survivor re-married, no one was much surprised. It was clear that after such a catastrophic event they needed the support of a close relationship, the comfort only a mate could give, and at that time there was no expectation that the dead would ever return.

Then Oromë arrived, and eventually took three volunteer ‘ambassadors’ to Aman to show them what the Valar were offering the elves. Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë returned and related with awe and longing what they had seen, and how this was very different than the Hunter. Some elves were skeptical, but others were convinced, and ultimately they all made their choices, to Journey or to Refuse. (Though the ones who refused would have said Remain.)

When the elves of the Journey arrive in Aman, they are surprised that their Valarin hosts have Opinions - which turn into rules, which eventually become Laws and Customs - about the proper structure of relationships and what they term ‘marriage’. It should be one male and one female, and it should last for the lifetime of Arda, because the dead will eventually return. (It was not Eru’s design that elves should marry more than once. Somehow they overlooked that it was also not Eru’s design that elves should die.)

This was a shock to the elves whose marriages don’t fit in that narrow box. Obviously some cannot comply, and quietly carry on. A rapidly expanding elven society manages to overlook those instances of same-sex couples living together as ‘friends’. The younger generation for the most part don’t realize, because when it comes to these couples, conversation simply slides smoothly away under the subtle guidance of those old enough to know that the pair are more than merely friends. Those elves who remember other ways may not protest - they already know the Valar refuse to be moved on this matter - but they give those who could not abandon their mates the protection of their silence, and they create enough doubt to prevent the Valar taking notice. (A nis may be friends with another nis and choose to live with her until such time as she finds a ner she wishes to marry. What of it if two neri share a house? Is there some reason why they should not?)

But unlike same-sex mates, Finwë, Miriel, and Indis find themselves in a bind- there’s no good way they can flout the decree of the Valar. As King of the Noldor, Finwë does not have the same degree of privacy other elves whose relationships don’t match the strictures of the Valar have, nor can he carve such privacy out for himself and his mates. There’s no plausible deniability for why the sister of the King of the Vanyar is constantly in the company of the Noldorin royal couple. It’s inevitable that sooner or later the elves who are not old enough to know differently will notice they are more than just friends in a way that no clever conversational segues will cover up. This is where it begins to unravel.

They eventually decide that since Indis, unlike Miriel, has a brother, she can better weather being separated from her mates for long periods of time. She goes with Ingwë to Valimar when the Vanyar relocate, and does her best to visit no more often than an ordinary friend would. Sometimes she slips, but for the most part she manages to stay away. Her brother is grateful for her assistance in his kingdom, and her young nephews are happy to have their aunt doting on them. It’s not ideal, and no one is happy, but it works.

The real problems begin when Miriel and Finwë beget their first son in Tirion. A pregnant elf requires as much support from their mate(s) as possible during pregnancy, since so much of their fëa and energy is being channeled into the creation of their child. But Miriel has only half of the support she should have, and bearing Curufinwë Fëanaro drains her to the point that she realizes another such pregnancy would destroy her. (Can a dead elf whose spirit has been wholly consumed return from Mandos? Do they even go there? And do all expectant mothers have such dark dreams? They didn’t even feel like they were hers...)

Finwë doesn’t entirely understand. He’s never been pregnant, and there is only so much Miriel can say or share with him given his lack of experience in the matter. She knows she’s asking him to imagine a country he has never seen and realize that the flowers are colored all wrong, and he’s trying his hardest. But he certainly understands missing Indis, because he does too. Without her to balance them, the scale has dipped so sharply that some days it feels like they’re flying off to crash into who knows what.

Miriel comes to the conclusion that she would rather defy the Valar than spend the entire lifetime of Arda pretending to be ok with this state of affairs when the reality is that none of them are. Indis is unhappy in Valimar, and if Miriel and Finwë are less unhappy, this definitely isn’t the bliss the Valar had promised. They were better off under the stars on the far side of the Sea. (She’ll wonder later if her rebellious thought had been unknowingly passed to Fëanaro.)

But if the Valar insist on this stupidity, Miriel doesn’t have to make it easy for them. Her retreat to Mandos is a form of protest - and she knows perfectly well that Finwë and Indis will certainly marry in her ‘absence’. She expects she will be able to return at some point - as elves who died before the Journey are expected to do also - and if the Valar don’t like elves having two wives or two husbands, or a wife and a husband, it will be too darn bad.

The problem none of them foresaw was the ruling of the Valar that elven marriage being for the lifetime of Arda, an elf could only remarry if their dead mate did not intend to return to life - ever. This went beyond just Miriel, Finwë, and Indis, because Miriel wasn’t the only dead elf whose living mate had taken another mate. (Nevermind that Miriel had taken that mate, too, and long before they’d ever met a Vala.) This she hadn’t expected, but she had little choice - if she agreed to return to life, Indis would be forever alone, and the damage still done to those already in Mandos whose mates had remarried. Eventually Miriel brokers a compromise with the Valar - those whose mates remarried before this ruling will not be confined to Mandos for something their mate did in ignorance. But she’s stuck for it.

What she didn’t realize until much later was the fracture lines the so-called Doom of Manwë created among the Noldor. (She’s darkly amused that it was later renamed the Statue of Finwë and Miriel as if the Valar had nothing to do with it.) By this point, the majority of the Noldor were descendants of the original elves, either begotten on the Journey or in Aman. They don’t remember the days before the Hunter and the disappearances, or the time when the elves governed themselves as seemed right to them. Many know the Journey only as stories their parents or even grandparents told them. They have no idea that Indis has a long-standing relationship with Finwë, they see only her usurping their Queen’s place, and they resent her for it.

When Finwë’s spirit comes to Mandos, broken in more ways than one, Miriel is shocked - and furious. This is twice the Valar’s failings have done serious damage to her mates and her family, and she is in no mood to forgive as she holds him for the first time in long Valian years and he relates to her between shuddering sobs what has transpired in her absence.

Yet when Mandos offers her the chance to return to life, to let Finwë take her place as the one who remains in his Halls for all time, she cannot refuse. Not when Finwë is all but demanding she accept, that she finally be reunited with Indis.

The life she returns to is not at all what she’d expected. Indis was no better off than Finwë - actually, she is much worse, for she has not only lost both her mates to death, by this time she also knew Fëanor, Ambarussa Umbarto, and Arakano to be dead as well. The first few years of her second life Miriel spends nursing her mate back to some semblance of health (and restraining her fury at the Valar.)

If Indis’ remaining daughter notices - and it’s possible she doesn’t, for when Miriel can spare a thought from her mate, it occurs to her that their eldest daughter looks like her spirit may be straining to reach the quiet numbness of the Halls - she says nothing. (What is there to say when Miriel is the one person who has made her mother smile since her father’s death?) 

It is only when Indis at long last begins to speak and move as a living elf rather than one half-dead that Miriel can cast her mind about for what to do. She had no mind to return to living in Tirion, not when the King’s House was nothing but pain to Indis, and even her own workshop was a quiet reproach, taken up as it was with the work of a grandson she has never met.

That was what gave her the idea. Her talent was unparalleled among the elves, and it had long been said that the only one who surpassed her was Vairë...

“But why do you wish to enter my service?” the Valie asked, as uneasy as Miriel has even seen one of them since the ruling on her marriage.

“You record the story of the world,” Miriel replied steadily. “If I cannot know my children and their children, I would at least know their deeds.”

She silently surveyed the Weaver’s discomfort - and through her, that of her mate the Judge. Had the Valar never before had to face the consequences of their own decrees?

If she did not often enjoy her work - so little joy, so many tears - at least she got to know her children and grandchildren, and was able to tell Indis, however belatedly, how they were faring on the Shores they had foolishly left behind so long ago.

[kenzieperth]

(Feanorian Week 7: Feanor and Nerdanel)

Nerdanel waited for her sons to come home.

She didn’t have to wait long.

A messenger from Namo came far too soon into her husband’s absence, face hidden by a starry cloak. Statue-like, the Maia informed the elleth that her youngest son, Amras, awaited judgement in the halls of Mandos. Then, with a swirl of robes and power, they disappeared.

Nerdanel let herself sink to the floor as soon the door was closed, resting her head on the hand-carved wood and desperately missing her husband. Then, gathering her strength, she stood and began to prepare.

(It was allowed, sometimes, for the family of the deceased to sit in on the judgment. Normally, this wasn’t necessary; elves in Valinor, after all, tended to die only in accidents or due to heartbreak; occasionally, however, a more difficult case came up. Nerdanel rather thought that this definitely counted as a more difficult case, not to mention that short of Iluvatar himself, nothing could stop her from seeing her son.)

……

Amras, after he had been allowed back in a new body under certain restrictions, was listless. He still smiled and laughed, but there was something well-hidden but hollow about the depths of his eyes that Nerdanel desperately wished to fix but had no idea where to begin.

No, that wasn’t true; Nerdanel knew exactly what would bring back her son’s humor, and he was out of her reach entirely.

(He also refused to tell her exactly how he had died, but Nerdanel could guess by his reaction to the hearth when he had first come home.)

So instead, she found him books and puzzles and games, and for a while, it worked. Then Amras would see a flash of red hair and hear a laugh that sounded sort of familiar or get too close to a candle and feel the heat, and would slowly droop back down again. (Nerdanel prayed, rather desperately, that somehow her family would return.)

……

Fëanaro was next; her brilliant, volatile husband had burned too brightly and destroyed himself with his own carelessness. The Valar’s decree on that matter was clear; Fëanaro would not leave the Halls until Dagor Dagorath.

That was fine, Nerdanel thought. It just meant that she would have to come to him.

(Some of the other Valar had protested a living elf with a hröa residing in the Halls of Mandos, but Namo had merely smiled with his skeletal face, utterly calm behind his unearthly veil, and said nothing. She had taken that as a yes.)

Fëanaro, most of the time, was stuck in a fëa-healing sleep. It didn’t matter to Nerdanel; she had the beginnings of her family back together.

……

Tyelkormo, Carnistir, and Atarincë came next, and when the three walked together through the dark archways of the Halls to their judgment, their eyes were on the shadowy forms of their cousins and their victims, their faces pale and clearly expecting retribution.

They weren’t expecting open arms and forgiveness, which Nerdanel made sure they received; they had certainly already been doled out a fair bit of punishment by fate. (Tyelkormo was too quiet, his eyes distant and unseeing, even as he became strong enough to hunt with Lord Oromë again; Carnistir exploded more frequently than before, every action of his brothers provoking him, though Nerdanel wondered if that wasn’t just a cover for the pain ever-present in his eyes; and Atarincë told stories of his son’s brilliance, bitterness well-hidden but most certainly present.)

The five of them were healing together, though.

……

Nerdanel knew the moment when Amrod entered the Halls by the way his twin sat bolt upright, dropping the book in his hands in shock, his face draining of all color.

She didn’t stop him from running out of their room, dodging past the fëar of all sorts of elves, scanning the crowd desperately for a head of red hair.

(Their cries of joy when they found each other again were enough to make Nerdanel nearly cry herself.)

……

Maëdhros stood in front of the three Valar who judged the dead longer than even Fëanor had, silently watching as they discussed his fate. He knew full well he was the only elf to choose to take his own life like he had, and he was one of the first to take the life of another elf as well.

To be allowed to reunite with his mother was more than he felt he deserved, and to see Fingon again was definitely more than he had earned, but Maëdhros was going to take advantage of this opportunity he never expected to have. (He never noticed how stony Carnistir’s face became when he stood too close to Findekano, laughing at tiny things. Curvo had desperately hoped that Haleth had managed to wait for him, but she had been forced to move on.)

(At least he had his family to keep him from fading again.)

……

Nerdanel waited for Makalaure to come home for an entire Age. Even Valinor had felt the shift; the gathering darkness that had been a distant storm on the horizon was suddenly destroyed and replaced with bright sunshine and a rejuvenated feeling permeating the air. Nerdanel let herself hope that that meant her petitions, along with her nieces’ and nephews’, would be heard again.

Two days into the Fourth Age, a messenger came for Nerdanel again; this time, one of Irmo’s Maia stood in the door, face’s details hidden by an ever-shifting vale of dreams but wearing a cheerful smile nevertheless.

“Makalaure is coming home,” they said, robes swirling gently against the floor. “He shall arrive within a week. The exile of the Noldo has been lifted.”

Nerdanel’s smile could have illuminated the depths of Utumno. “Thank you,” she said. Then, pausing, “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

The Maia raised their eyebrow, and Nerdanel internally winced a little; she had gotten far too used to being familiar with the Maia and Valar who visited the Halls. They just smiled, though, and walked past the elleth. “So, what are we having for breakfast, then?”

Nerdanel may have begun to regret this decision.

……

When Makalaure’s ship finally pulled up to the beach, Nerdanel was waist-deep in the surf waiting for her son by herself. (Fëanaro and the rest of her children had insisted on getting their place ready for Makalaure’s arrival.) A single elf was pulling the boat up onto the beach, but her eyes were already on Makalaure, who had jumped off the ship and was smiling beatifically.

“Amil,” he said, and that was as far as he got before she pulled him into a tight hug, water lapping around their waists.

“Amil,” he said again when she released him, “this is Elrond – my son.”

Nerdanel turned to the shorter elf awkwardly standing next to Makalaure, looking very uncomfortable both from the display of affection and the chest-height water. Taking both their arms, she smiled and said, “I believe we have a lot to catch up on.”

[outofangband]

What is the relationship between Melkor and Nessa?

Got just a bit carried away by my love of folk-horror!Nessa vibes...

I mentioned briefly when I talked about Melkor’s feelings on the queens of the Valar but in short, he never took much notice of her until she married his bitter enemy which is a pretty sure way to earn his contempt. At first Melkor would see her as harmless, much like the deer she so loves. If she was apart of his plan it would have at first been as an innocent prey…

But Nessa is the sister of Oromë, a queen of the forest, and she is far from a harmless figure. Melkor will find this out the hard way.

There is something wild and dangerous in the beautiful dancer of the Valar. Something of escape and the chase of a hunt and when you run and run until your lungs burn and you can no longer tell the difference between hot and cold on your face and you no longer care about your pursuers for you feel if you stop running you will fade away…

She has no love for the Enemy and no duty to treat them with forgiveness or mercy.

Nor does she forget what Melkor nearly did to her spouse when the Valar came to Utumno.*

Oromë is not the only reason a servant of the Enemy will find no sanctuary in the woods.

*what did he almost do? We don’t exactly know but trust me, I’m very much haunted by it too (context)

(ask me about the relationship between any two Valar!)

I also think Nessa has to terrify people because it makes another fun parallel between Tulkas and Húrin.