#Silmarillion fanfiction

[eowyn7023]

For Harrowing fans, this is absolutely a delight! Take this gift in gratitude.

A Harrowing extra for your morning: Fingon POV on his first meeting with Annatar!

Good morning, everyone. I was hanging onto this so that I could post it after the Harrowing is done, but I think today you all deserve a present.

Here is Fingon's POV on his meeting with Annatar in Mandos during the Harrowing. Contains: Fingon's relentless good nature, external viewpoint on what the heck is going on with Annatar's spirit, and some thoughts on the healing nature of anger.

[ylieke]

"And Melkor entered his realm. And the Dark bowed before its Lord, and came apart in the light of Silmarilli. The creatures of the night prostrated themselves on the ground in hopes that they would be spared and his heavy gaze wouldn’t fall on them. Sauron bowed low, pinned down by the terror that like a cape was draped over the Fallen Vala. He relinquished all the power he held in his absence and laid it for him, as a servant must." An illistraion for the "Play with fire" fanfic by @eternal-fear

[leucisticpuffin]

breakdown/mending

“I cannot do this,” says Makalaurë, breaking his own stilted attempt at a formal greeting, and crumples like a cloth doll at my bedside. 

It is the first time he has come alone. He slipped into the tent early this morning, hollow-eyed in the grey light; now he screams into my blankets, and the medicine-bottles tremble upon the low table. 

(Of all my brothers, Makalaurë was ever the quickest to tears. He wept for lost toys and stories, for quarrels between brothers and grievances not his own, for beautiful songs and unexpected gifts – but not like this. Not over me.)

“Káno, Káno,” I say, the nickname strange and rough in my mouth. “Why come here, if the sight of me upsets thee so?��� 

It is meant as a joke, but I know at once it is wrong: it is too near the truth. Angamando, I am told, has warped my sense of humour.

 “I am sorry,” Makalaurë sobs, straining for control of his voice. “This is not – I did not come to thee for this–”

His hands twist in the tangle of his hair, pulling at his scalp as he used to when he was very small and upset. “Stop, Káno, you will hurt yourself,” I tell him – but I am too harsh, and he flinches.

I knew how to calm him, once. Remembering is like looking through poorly-made glass, smoke-tainted and full of imperfections; but I know there was once a bright-haired, handsome child who held his little brother tight and stroked his hair while he cried. 

That child, I think, would know what to do. 

Even slow and halting movement jars my shoulder painfully. Still I reach for Makalaurë, thinking to take his hand – but I cannot do it. Touch is hateful to me now, the healers’ ministrations all my fragile skin can bear. A glancing touch, and against my will my hand draws back – my fingers shake, bone-white and too thin – I dare not try again. 

It would not do any good. My scars are the cause of my brother’s distress: he looks at me as if he had cut every mark himself. How, then, could I be a comfort to him?

This is how I know myself changed: Makalaurë weeps before me, and I cannot console him. 

@maedhrosmaglorweek, Day Two: Trust/Distrust

[solmarillion]

so i found out that ao3 is changing the tag names for silm characters and. they got rid of the quenya names even though people USE THEM. i am heartbroken

oh well at least celebrimbor is safe

NOOOOOOO THEY GOT RID OF MAIRON?!?!?!? WHYYYYYYYY 😭

[animatorweirdo]

Soundless

Your father discouraged you from seeking the elf, but since you were desperate to have your locket fixed -- you decided to let his words go soundless in your ears. Turns out, the ill-famed Feanor wasn't so bad after all.

[] = Sign language

Warnings: mentions of a dead mother, hearing loss, rumors, Feanor's reputation, softness, and Feanor not being bad after all.

(Note: I decided to take a softer turn for this guy,)

---------------------------------------------

Your life has not been an easy one. Despite being born into nobility as the child of a Telerin lord, you faced your share of hardships from a young age. Your mother passed away shortly after your birth, and then you lost your hearing to a strange illness.

Growing up without the ability to hear the sounds of nature or music was incredibly challenging. Many people looked at you with pity, and some even speculated that you were cursed, given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both your mother's death and your hearing loss. This placed a heavy burden on your father, who was left to care for you alone.

You two shared a great bond, and he had been genuinely a good father to you, helping you adapt to your disability and trying to make sure you were happy. However, you knew how tired he was and how he held a look of longing in his eyes. He was most likely still waiting for your mother to return from the halls of Mandos. 

Your mother had been born with a weak body thus the childbirth took a severe toll on her and her spirit. The Valar and the Maiar assured that she would heal over time, but it would take a long time. There was a high chance she would return when you had already grown into your teens. 

Your father was deeply saddened by the news and carried a heavy burden of guilt, believing that he was responsible for your mother being stuck in a state of recovery. Despite any rumors or beliefs held by others, he never allowed you to bear the blame. Instead, he shielded you from such notions, ensuring that you understood it was not your fault and that you were not to blame for your mother's passing.

You didn't want your father to blame himself, so you always strived to be on your best behavior and do things that would make him happy. You also wanted to prove to him that he didn’t always need to worry about you and that you could handle yourself, even if you were deaf. That was one of the reasons why you were determined to learn how to read people’s lips and make communication easier for yourself.

One of the only things you had from your mother was a silver locket.

Your father allowed you to keep it, and you held on to it ever since. Unfortunately, the lock had gotten stuck, thus making you unable to open it. 

Your father didn’t know what the locket held inside, so you pleaded with him to have someone fix it. However, since the locket was an older design from the First Age, none of the craftsmen knew how to repair it. They all advised you to dismantle the locket and salvage whatever was inside, but you were unwilling to do so. You were fond of the locket itself and didn't want to risk damaging whatever precious contents it held.

You began to lose hope when there were no more craftsmen to turn to, and even your father seemed less eager to save the locket. He eventually told you to simply keep the locket as a memory, assuring you that knowing what was inside was not important.

You valued your father's advice, but you also couldn't shake the desire to know what was inside the locket. Perhaps it contained a picture of your mother, since you had so few of them in the house, or maybe it held a cherished item she kept as a memory.

You then heard about an elf who was rumored to be one of the best craftsmen known in history: Feanor, King Finarfin’s older brother and the eldest of Finwe’s children. You heard that he had done troubling things in the past and nowadays lived in seclusion with his sons, rarely attending social events. Despite his reclusive nature, his reputation as a skilled craftsman persisted.

You felt hope for your mother’s locket, but when you asked your father if you two could meet him, he suddenly became angry and refused. You were startled as you had never seen him so angry before. 

Your father apologized for snapping at you and then explained that Feanor was not someone who should even be spoken about. Despite the passing of many years, the wounds he had inflicted were still fresh in the hearts of many. He was not to be trusted, so it's only for the best that you forget the whole thing.

Normally, you would have listened to your father, but your stubbornness to have your locket fixed strived you forward. 

During a celebration event with most noble houses and the city attending, you sneaked away from your father’s side and made your way to the workshop where you heard Feanor usually occupied alone with his gadgets. 

You had visited many workshops while trying to get your locket fixed, so you had a good idea of what to look for. It didn’t take long for you to find the place and walk inside. The workshop was empty, as most of the people were attending the celebration. Although it was a bit eerie to be alone, you pressed on until you found a door with light emanating from the room beyond.

You quietly peered inside and observed a dark-haired elf seated beside a table, engrossed in some task beneath the flickering candlelight. For a moment, you were awestruck, realizing that this was the famed Feanor, the elf who had allegedly committed terrible deeds.

With cautious steps, you entered the room, mindful not to startle the elf, and pondered how to approach him without alarming him. Unbeknownst to you, the door behind you closed shut, causing the elf to startle and snap his head towards you.

You were frozen in your place when you locked your eyes with Feanor. His features were sharp and he frowned when he saw you. For a moment, he looked a bit terrifying. 

“Child? What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?” Feanor questioned, but you awkwardly remained quiet as you only managed to catch ‘here’ and ‘parents’ from his lips. Your lip reading skills weren’t the sharpest despite you having been trying to improve them. 

You took a deep breath and then tried to explain in sign language why you were there and that you had hoped he could take a look at your locket and perhaps know how to fix it since no one else knew how to. 

Feanor gazed intently at you as you signed, and then there was an awkward pause. You weren't sure if he understood sign language, and you mildly regretted not bringing a piece of paper and a pencil, which would have made explaining much easier.

Feanor’s eyes then softened, and to your surprise, he motioned his hand in sign language. 

“[Come here…]” he said. 

You then walked up to him and handed him your locket. 

He inspected it carefully, taking in the design and the lock. After he tested it and tried to open it, he then laid it down on the table. He grabbed one of the vials and what seemed to be a small tool. You looked at him curiously as he started doing something. 

He then glanced at you. 

“[Take a seat. This might take a while…]” He signed. 

You nodded and quietly sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as he gently poured drops on the lock. 

“[What is that?] you curiously asked. 

“[A type of acid. It can remove the rust that had locked the locket from the inside,]” he explained. 

“[Wait! So you can really fix it without having to break it?!]” you asked excitedly.

“[Of course I can. I do need to take the lock apart to clean the excess rust from the inside,]” Feanor explained while dropping drops on the locket. 

“[How do you know sign language?]” you asked. 

“[I was the one who first developed it,]” he answered, making your eyes widen. 

“[Did you or anyone in your family have hearing problems too? ]” you asked. 

“[No. I just wanted a way to bad mouth my half-brother without him understanding anything. I was a bit of a drama seeker,]” he explained, making you giggle. 

“[Then it was adopted by those who were unable to speak or hear words,]” he added.

“[How long have you been unable to hear words or sounds?]” he asked while cleaning your locket’s lock. 

“[My whole life. I lost my hearing somewhere in my birth,]” you answered.

“[Do you want to talk about it?]” Feanor asked, and you became excited. No one else besides your father has spoken to you in sign language this long. 

You then talked about your life. How your mother died during your birth, and how your father had taken care of you your whole life. You also talked about how your father seems to be blaming himself for your mother’s death and how you hated when others would look at you with pity and think you had been cursed. 

Feanor listened attentively while fixing your locket. 

After half an hour of talking and watching him work, you took a break, but then you saw how the elf in front of you placed all the parts back in the locket and opened it. 

You looked at him eagerly as he closed it and then opened it, making sure the lock worked properly before handing the locket back to you.

You grabbed the locket and took a look at what was inside. It was a small picture of your mother and father. They looked happy together, and there was also a small gem inside. It was most likely the gem your father gave your mother as a gift, and she had kept it inside the locket for safekeeping and carried it with her. You felt immeasurable joy looking at the picture and holding the gem. 

Your father would be so happy when you showed these to him. 

Feanor then caught your attention by tapping the table in front of you. 

“[The locket should work fine for now, but make sure to take care of it and not leave it somewhere where it could rust again, ]” Feanor explained. 

“[I will. Thank you,]” you signed. 

“[Now come on. I take you back to the entrance. You shouldn’t be here,]” he said, then stood up. 

You followed the elf out of the workshop, and you two then stood on the empty street while the celebration was still going in the distance. 

“[Do you need me to escort you back there?]” Feanor asked. 

“[No. My father is pretty easy to find, and I don’t think he even noticed that I’m gone. I’m pretty quiet after all, ]” you answered. 

“[Very well, and by the way,]” he said, making you look at him curiously. 

“[Your mother’s passing was not your fault. No matter how tragic it was, you are not at fault,]” he explained. 

You looked down for a moment. 

“[But others think differently,]” you said. 

“[There will always be people who will judge you for what you don’t have. Don’t let their words get to you. Otherwise, your life will become difficult and harder to enjoy,]” he signed.

 “[And remember, hearless or not, your mother would have loved you]” he added. 

The thought made you smile. Your mother had a weak body, but it didn’t mean she did not want you. Your father and the rest of the relatives always explained how she was excited to have you. 

She might be in Mandos, but she was going to return one day. 

“[I won’t. Thank you, Mr. Feanor,]” you said, and he softly smiled. 

“[Now get along now. Your father will notice your disappearance soon enough,]” he said. 

You then suddenly hugged his legs, making him look at you surprised. He then patted your head as you freed him and began making your way back to the party. You waved at him, and he waved in return till he saw you disappear into the crowds. 

Feanor returned to his workshop, feeling pleasant over the encounter. 

[cilil]

Eönwë Week - Day 1: Genesis

𓅛 Characters: Eönwë, Manwë & Eru 𓅛 Synopsis: The first of the Maiar awakens. 𓅛 Warnings: / 𓅛 Triple drabble

He comes into existence with one timid note of song, akin to a gasp of breath, and the first thing he senses is that he's held by a mighty presence and watched by others, like him but bigger. 

The young spirit curls in on himself, frightened.

"Behold the first of the Maiar." 

The others draw closer now, reaching out to make themselves known. He avoids them at first, until suddenly he senses one who feels familiar. 

They are... alike, this older spirit and he. 

"Father," a voice exclaims then, "Father, I sense that he shares my element. Will he be like me?"

"In a way, yes," the presence — Father — says. "The Maiar shall be the younger of the Ainur, smaller in stature and sharing the elements and domains of you, the Valar. Your task will be to teach and guide them, and their task will be to learn and serve."

Father brings him closer to the older spirit, and he finally uncurls just enough to see. Yes, that one is less frightening; his spirit feels warm, kind and gentle like a summer breeze, though the newborn Maia doesn't know yet what it means. 

He reaches out, just one tiny, trembling tendril of spirit, and is pulled closer. It's comfortable around this Vala, he thinks happily; in the future he will remember this moment being akin to a baby bird hiding in its parent's plumage. 

"What is his name, Father?" 

"He will be swift and he will be steadfast, strong like the mightiest of your creatures, yet gentle at heart, like you. He will dutifully carry your messages and fiercely defend those he holds dear." 

Father pauses. Then — 

"His name shall be Eönwë."

"Hello, little Eönwë," the Vala coos, delighted. "I am called Manwë."

And Eönwë has loved him ever since. 

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

[potatoobsessed999]

Finrod Felagund. "Philosophic discourse regarding the enmity of Orcs with Elves." The Philosophy of Finrod Felagund. 2nd ed., edited and translated by Vardamir Nólimon, Armenelos, S.A. 130.

[Ed. note: Private papers of Finrod Felagund. Written in his own hand. Dated to the season of Firith in the year 455, shortly before the Dagor Bragollach.]

Fact: According to the lore of our people from the days of Cuiviénen, the Enemy fashioned Orc-kind by his torture and slow corruption of Elven captives.

Question: How did our people learn this lore? Can it be that any ever escaped from the depths of Utumno to serve as witness?

Fact: In the lore we got of the Valar there is to my knowledge no teaching regarding the origins of Orc-kind.

Conjecture: It may be that our lore is not reliable on this point.

Fact: There are a few among us who dwelt at Cuiviénen, and others of their number abide yet in Aman; none of them have to my knowledge disputed the accuracy of our lore on this matter.

Fact: The fëar of Elves and Men have their differences from one another, but none so fundamental as the distinction between the fëar of the Eruhíni and the spirits of the non-speaking creatures. The spirits of non-speaking creatures cannot properly be called fëar, as the distinction in question is one of kind and not of degree. (Indeed fëar cannot be spoken of at all in terms of degree or size, as each fëa is itself indivisible.)

Fact: The lore we got of the Valar tells us that the fëa cannot be destroyed by any means.

Fact: Also of that lore, we know that the Enemy cannot truly create, only twist in mockery what has been created.

Fact: Also of that lore, we know that the Dwarves have their fëar of Ilúvatar alone, and not of Aulë. Before the granting of their fëar they could not speak, nor had they any will of their own, but could only obey the will of Aulë.

Fact: Orcs speak, and there is sense behind their words.

[continued on Ao3]

[dalliansss]

“We need to dispose of this creature,” Curufin says, mirroring Celegorm’s sentiment.

“Do you think we can eat it?” Finrod wonders out-loud. “Steaks.”

Curufin rolls his silver eyes so hard, Turko briefly worried they might pop out of his head. “Ingoldo, do you remember when you first encountered potatoes? Yes? You ate them raw and food poisoned yourself. We are not eating anything wrought by Morgoth’s foul sorcery. Away with the idea!”

Finrod pouts mightily and harrumphs. Then Edrahil calls the King for an urgent matter, and the golden one flounces away to follow his captain. Turko shakes his head.

“Only one elf mad enough to suggest to try eating a godsdamn dragon,” Turko says, bemusement in his tone.

Curufin crosses his arms. “I’m dumbfounded you hadn’t suggested it first, hanno.”

“Are you shitting me? With the stink this creature has? Not even my most rabid dogs will want a piece of it.”

[Dragonsmoke / AO3]

[lyragoth]

Narvi pondered the ideal moment to present the elf with the most exceptional gift a dwarf could offer: a dwarvish runestone.

These runestones were beyond price, unattainable by trade or barter, and not to be endowed more than once in a dwarf's lifetime. Their worth lay not in their profit value but rather in the intention behind their giving.

Narvi hesitated to give the runestone to the prince on numerous occasions, plagued by feelings of insecurity. After all, it was merely a stone, lacking the grandeur of a thermal bath hewed from a natural crevice or a cavern fashioned from opal (like the ones the elf's strange companion gifted him).

Yet, summoning his courage, he decided to proceed. After all, he was a dwarf, not one to shy away from challenges!

As the elf reached out to accept the rune, Narvi couldn't resist a jest:

"Beware! It is cursed for non-dwarves!" he quipped, relishing in the turmoil sparked in the elf's azure eyes.

Celebrimbor's reluctance to accept the rune only fueled Narvi's amusement, causing him to laugh loudly at the Elvish superstitions and their penchant for taking even fabricated curses seriously.

Annoyed, Celebrimbor dismissed Narvi's jest with an exasperated huff before gingerly accepting the runestone.

His skilled fingers traced the textured surface, reveling in the coolness beneath his touch and admiring the stone's rich blue hue. But as he read the inscription "Amrâlimê" with his fingertips, his vivid eyes widened in surprise.

Understanding the meaning of the word and the intent behind the gesture, his smile faded as a pang of sadness pierced his heart.

"I cannot accept your runestone." He confessed, "No gift I offer you could ever match such a treasure,"

Narvi shook his head, his expression unwavering. "Any gift from you would be cherished eternally. Moreover, I seek nothing in return; for a gift is freely given, not a debt to be repaid."

[sotwk]

do you have any recommendations for writers of gen fic? <33

*trips over myself in the rush to answer this Ask* DO I EVER!!!

I happily and highly recommend the following Tolkien Gen Fic Writers, and have included their Ao3 accounts for easy binging access:

@emyn-arnens - Ao3: Arveldis

@hobbitwrangler - Ao3: obsessive_combustive

@cuarthol - Ao3: cuarthol

@cycas - Ao3: bunn

I must also mention a couple of my favorites who have written excellent Gen/Family fics alongside their ship/romance fics:

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras - Ao3: Showed_Up_Late_To_The_Muster

@scyllas-revenge - Ao3: Scyllas_revenge

Thank you so much for Asking, Anon! I don't get to make rec posts often enough, so I'm so glad when I'm pushed to do so by Asks. :)

[sillysistersusi]

Because they loved us so

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Celebrimbor & Elrond

Summary: Elrond and Celebrimbor braid each others hair and talk about the family they have lost.

Celebrimbor laughed as he continued to braid Elrond's hair. "Uncle Maglor did what?"

Elrond wiped a tear away from under his eye, for he had laughed so hard that his eyes had begun to water. "Yes, Maedhros was anything but enthusiastic about it, but in the end even he could not help but grin."

"I really did not think Maglor would be so bad at baking, because he is not bad at cooking at all," Celebrimbor said gently. "Atya was actually marvellous at baking, even if he did not do it often." He fell silent.

Celebrimbor hadn't wanted to talk about Curufin at all. It was the one subject that was taboo in his mind. He almost never spoke of his father anymore, as much as he felt the need to. Not after everything that had happened.

His hands became still in Elrond's hair.

Like every time he thought of his father, Celebrimbor was overcome by this incredible surge of emotion.

His mind always thought briefly of the beautiful moments. How Curufin had taught him how to forge, how he had cuddled him in the evening until he fell asleep or how he had put a protective arm around his shoulders.

But then his thoughts always drifted to another time. A time when his father was under so much pressure to please Fëanor that he only worked and hardly had any time left for his family. Then came the memories of the battles and how his father had sometimes returned covered in blood and just sat there staring at the ground for a while. Once Celebrimbor had gone to Curufin at such a moment, hoping to help him, and Curufin had pressed his face into the side of Celebrimbor's hair and cried. Celebrimbor had never seen his father cry before.

After that came the memories where Curufin was... was different. Meaner. Celebrimbor had decided then to stop blindly trusting and following him.

But to this day, he wondered if that had been the right decision.

"It is all right." said Elrond, who was still sitting with his back to him, obviously to give him some privacy, something Celebrimbor was very grateful for, because as always when he only thought about Curufin, he had started to cry.

Carefully, he leaned against Elrond's shoulder from behind and buried his face in his neck. "Sorry. I- I should have known not to mention him, and now I have ruined everything."

"No, my friend. It is all good. "Elrond gently placed a hand on Celebrimbor's knee. "If you want to talk about it, that is fine. He was your father and you loved him incredibly. And I am sure he loved you too, always."

"I just miss him so much, you know?" Celebrimbor stammered softly and Elrond nodded. He understood all too well. He also missed Maglor and Maedhros. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night and couldn't sleep, he thought he could hear Maedhros' rough voice saying goodnight and Maglor singing a lullaby. He always fell asleep immediately afterwards, with a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes.

But he also missed Elwing and Eärendil, even if his memories of them were few and hazy, he felt a longing in his chest for them.

"Sometimes I think about whether I could have saved him if I had gone with him," Celebrimbor whispered softly and sniffled. "Maybe it would have been all right then."

But Elrond knew that probably wouldn't have happened. "I have seen the effects of the oath on Maedhros and Maglor. No matter how much Curufin loved you, the pressure of the oath would have destroyed him sooner or later. And I am sure he would have pushed you away before that happened, precisely because he loved you so much."

"But if it is so clearly the truth, why does it hurt so much?" Celebrimbor pressed himself tighter against Elrond, because whenever he felt so helpless, all he wanted was to be surrounded by the warmth of someone he cared about.

"I guess it hurts because you loved him as much as he loved you," Elrond replied softly. He wished he could do more to help his friend.

"I am really sorry for crying all over you." Celebrimbor said quietly and full of shame. He lifted his head slightly.

"As long as you need me, I will be here to catch you, just like you do for me and all our other friends. You cannot always be strong, Tyelpë," Elrond whispered. "I am the last person who would tell you not to cry."

So Celebrimbor pressed his face back into Elrond's neck and wrapped his arms around his waist to press himself even closer to him.

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: Mairon enjoys the new position he finds himself in with Melkor. Some reflection ensues. I'll stop with the puns now.

After writing his not-so-ideal mirror experience in Sugar I wanted to give Mairon another, more enjoyable one. Thus, catch me writing some Angbang.

Pairing: Melkor x Mairon

Words: 480

Warnings: explicit content, just a bit rough but everyone's enjoying themselves, pwp

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

Find the smut under the cut.

On Power

Mairon has never felt more powerful.

Might ripples through his entire being, enters him with each thrust into his body, which is alight, ready, and thrumming with thrill.

“Your legs.” Melkor’s voice reaches Mairon from behind him, like growling grey thunder in a summery vale, and Mairon spreads them wider. He lifts his chin to look at himself in the vast wrought iron mirror sitting above the bed, here in the Vala’s sleeping quarters, where the very walls pulse with his presence. No need for composure where power upholds. Mairon beholds his luscious red curls in disarray, dancing about his face, his cheeks flushed pink. He looks beautiful. On hands and knees, Mairon takes Melkor’s harsh thrusting, takes, takes, takes, with open thighs and open-mouthed as the mounting pleasure in his lower body wrenches ragged moans from his throat. Mairon whimpers, Mairon gasps.

Melkor hadn’t bothered to undress him properly, and neither had Mairon himself. He arches his back as Melkor drags the hem of his red and golden robe further up, his large hands wandering over Mairon’s backside, his thighs, his hips, more skin, more skin. A single low, rolling moan from Melkor. He must be close. Ravenous hunger rips through Mairon, seems to eat at his very bones. He feels stray warm droplets of his own arousal on his skin where his swollen flesh has brushed against his inner thigh. Mairon brings his hand to his lips, half covering his mouth, half biting. In the mirror, he watches as Melkor leans over him, until his bare chest is flush against Mairon’s back, wrapping his arm around his waist. “No, I want to hear you.” With his free hand, he removes Mairon’s fingers from his mouth, pushes his hand back onto the covers. Melkor slows the motions of his hips, makes them shallow, almost gentle. When he kisses Mairon’s earlobe, the Vala’s breathing trembles. Melkor’s raven hair curtains them both as he takes Mairon in hand, index finger stroking him with featherlight touches, smearing some of the liquid from the tip of Mairon’s length over his skin before he resumes taking him with what are now snapping, deep thrusts. Melkor’s hand moves faster. 

Mairon whimpers, Mairon pants. A wide grin forms on his lips. He watches as he reaches for the Vala’s face with one hand. Melkor kisses and licks his palm with abandon. Then, Mairon’s world narrows to the slickness between his legs, Melkor inside him, burning nerves, oil, heat, need, and Mairon lets go, tenses under Melkor’s hands, moaning obscenely, spilling himself over the Vala’s fingers and the bedding. 

Melkor pushes Mairon down by the neck. His face is pressed into the pillow, and Melkor’s thrusts shove his cheek across wet spots of his own release. Mairon twists his neck to look up at himself in the mirror. 

Mairon smiles, for he has never felt more powerful.

[ylieke]

My cover for @eternal-fear's Silmarillion fanfic! Which they are still to finalize a little bit😅

[leucisticpuffin]

coirë | a stirring

“Thou callest this season beautiful,” he said one morning, watching shadows shift through the canvas as an attendant cleared the doorway of snow. “Forgive me, but I cannot see it.” “But thou hast seen it not,” protested Findekáno, setting aside his mortar and pestle. (The skill of preparing medicines he had picked up in the fearful days of the last winter, needing desperately to be useful, and yet unable to look at the wound wrought by his own hand.) “Not everywhere is so grey! Come, Russandol; I shall show thee why we name it so.”

Read the whole story on AO3

[grey-gazania-fic]

Fouled Water

(Caranthir, rated G)

The moment Caranthir had seen Maedhros’ map of East Beleriand, he had known why his eldest brother was sending him to Thargelion. It was a banishment of sorts; save for Ossiriand to the south, where their youngest brothers would be safer and of better use, Thargelion was the furthest from Dorthonion, and thus the furthest from Angrod and Aegnor.

Caranthir knew it was his own fault for lashing out at Angrod during that ill-fated council meeting, though he was too proud to ever admit it aloud. He’d made a mess of things, and Maedhros’ rebuke, though firm, hadn’t been enough to salvage the situation. But it was just so difficult to stay calm around Finarfin’s children -- all of them, really, but Angrod in particular. Being in a room with him was like being pummeled by something sharp and hard, like the hailstones that sometimes fell in Mithrim’s chill northern winters, and Caranthir could stand it for only so long.

You don’t understand, he wanted to say to Maedhros. I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to feel what everyone around me feels. If I could change it, don’t you think I would? But he held his tongue. His brother had enough things to worry about, and Caranthir couldn’t help feeling guilty that he had added yet more weight to Maedhros’ burdens. So he accepted Thargelion without complaint. At least the place had a lake, which was more than could be said for any of his brothers’ lands.

Though Caranthir loved to swim, he’d never cared for the ocean. It was too salty, too gritty, too abrasive, and the violence of the sea during their voyage in the stolen swanships still haunted him. He’d been certain that he would be shipwrecked and drowned in the briny depths, as had happened to so many of his father’s followers. Even now, he half wondered if Uinen might rise against Fëanor’s sons in wrath once more if they ventured to the coast.

But Helevorn was utterly unlike the ocean. Though strong winds could raise swells on its surface, when the air was calm, the lake was as smooth and still as the glass for which it was named. And though it was dark and deep -- so deep that he’d run out of rope on his first attempt to measure it -- the water was pleasingly cool and clear. Floating on his back, hearing nothing but the peeping of the sandpipers and the plaintive call of the nearby loons, he finally felt at peace.

Now his lake is dead. Some foul concoction of Morgoth’s has turned the water murky and acidic. The weeds have withered, and putrid fish and the feathered carcasses of birds bob on the surface, floating between patches of burning oil. His fortress on Mount Rerir, too, is in flames, but his eyes sting more for the loss of Helevorn.

It’s the smoke, he tells himself, though he knows it’s a lie. It’s just the smoke irritating your eyes.

Blinking away the tears, he turns his horse to the south. There is no one left to wait for. Everyone who could escape Morgoth’s deadly host has already fled, making their way to Ossiriand with all haste. Only Caranthir and his rear guard remain.

“Move out,” he orders, his voice rough from the smoke. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

He leads his soldiers in their retreat, and he doesn’t look back.

[animatorweirdo]

The Rebirth of a Wolf (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

You wake up again alone in a forest without memories of what happened. You come to another town, but this time you hear a voice commanding you in the face of danger.

Warnings: Fair warning, this part will have some dark content involved. Mentions of possible sexual assault, violence, hearing voices inside your head, kidnapping, cannibalism, graphic description of blood and limbs being severed.

---------------------------------------------------

Like living through a dream, you saw yourself pouncing on that bastard stepbrother of yours, keeping him down and ripping him apart with your teeth. His screams echoed in your ears as you then severed his head, letting it pounce on the ground and dressing your mouth in his blood. The village people screamed at the sight of you, quickly running away and gathering weapons to chase you out. You saw yourself turning toward Lena, wanting to plunge your teeth into her flesh as well but resisted when you remembered the kindness she had shown you. You then fled into the forest.

Darkness loomed around you as you ran through the forest, seeking prey to sate your violent need for blood and flesh. It was terrifying, yet thrilling at the same time. You saw yourself attacking a wagon on the road, killing its two owners, one man and one woman. There was a baby. It cried loudly after you mauled its mother. You looked at it, tempted to eat it like your instincts told you to. However, you resisted and returned to the woods, leaving the baby with its dead parents. 

You wandered through the dark forest, glancing at the moon that shone brightly in the night sky. You howled to it before continuing your hunt, and like a dream, you woke up and found yourself alone in a forest yet again.

Your eyes darted around the forest while hugging yourself for warmth. It was cold as you were naked, covered in dirt, blood, and leaves. Leaning against the tree did little to keep you covered as the cold felt like needles biting through your skin. 

Your heart pounded against your chest as you tried to remember what had happened and the dream you just saw. Again, it was just blackness when you tried to remember what happened between you and Ronan. However, you knew you had some kind of dream, but couldn't recall it for some reason. You did remember the feeling of thrill and want for blood. 

Just… what was happening to you? 

The sound of a horse and a wagon made you freeze against the tree. You glanced over and noticed a road right behind the tree. An old man was drinking while driving the wagon, his horse snorting and pulling its master’s cargo. 

The old man noticed you and rushed to pull the reins, causing his horse to whine from the sudden stop and step back. 

“Easy!” The old man yelled before looking toward you. You stared back at him, uncertain what to do or say. 

“You alright there, young lady?” The old man asked, not seemingly hostile toward you. 

You hesitated before shaking your head. 

“No…” You uttered, scared and nearly wanting to break into tears. 

—-------------------------------

The old man was kind enough to lend you some rags to cover yourself and give you a ride to the nearest town. Throughout the ride, you didn’t say much, only staring into nothing and absently listening to the old man’s rambling as he drove and drank simultaneously. 

You didn’t mean to ignore him most of the ride. It was just your mind was still stuck trying to remember what happened. You felt like you knew what happened, but it refused to come out and enlighten you. Did you… actually kill Ronan and those travelers? Why do you remember hearing a baby’s cry? 

“Here we are!” The old man declared as a town came to your sight. 

You watched as you drove through the entrance and upon the open street. There were many people and the atmosphere felt normal like the last one. You just hoped you would not bump into another unpleasant family member here. 

You jumped out from the wagon and turned toward the old man. 

“Thanks…” You silently thanked him. 

“You're welcome. Don’t wander alone in the woods again. You were lucky to be found by me and not by a nasty person, who would have loved to take advantage of a lone lady like you,” The old man cackled. “Alright. Good luck! I have places to be,” He said and snapped the reins, driving through the town and leaving on your own. 

You stood alone on the street, hugging the rags on your shoulders close to you as you observed the people around you. Your eyes fell upon a couple of men smoking in some corner, they looked at you with an observing and bad intending eyes, causing you to feel weary. You found a corner between some houses and decided it would be a good place to stay hidden and rest for a moment. 

You walked over to the corner and sat beside some barrels. You stared at the people as they passed your view, hugging your legs and trying to bring them some warmth with the rags. Your bare feet were covered in mud and the ground felt cold against them. You laid your cheek against your knees and stared at your feet, thinking what your father and his family would say if they saw you. 

Pathetic. A dirty Rat. Homeless beggar. A good for nothing. The names would be endless. To your father, you were especially a good-for-nothing. 

You remembered the time when your mother was still alive. Back then, things were much different and even your father was more loving toward you and your siblings. It all changed, so quickly when she died from the cold and your father met the witch you knew as your stepmother. It all became hell at that point. 

Your older sister became the only source of comfort for you and your brother. She was kind and patient like your mother, and even she was stripped away from you. 

You felt anger when you saw your step-uncle's face in your mind. He was the reason why your sister killed herself. He was the one who stripped her of her innocence and dignity, and yet he was allowed to live while your sister died. If you ever wanted to kill someone, he was the main candidate, to make him pay for the suffering he caused to your sister and you. 

“You wish him dead…” 

You snapped out of your anger when you heard a strange voice. 

“If you wish him dead… What’s stopping you from taking his life and making him suffer from all his wrongdoings?” The voice questioned. 

You looked around, trying to find the owner of the voice. You felt chills as there was no one in your corner and no one was standing in the streets. It was like the voice simply echoed in your head. 

“What the hell—” 

You suddenly heard muddy footsteps and snapped your eyes toward a tall man. Your attention was immediately taken by his sharp ears and his familiar features. You knew the elf in front of you. 

“(Name)?” He questioned. 

“Faelon” You answered. 

—---------------------------------------

You knew Faelon when you were a child. You first met him when he passed the village you lived in, and you and your siblings were so fascinated by him and his companions. He was very kind and patient. He did not mind answering all the questions you and your siblings had for him, and he even showed elvish things that would make you all sparkle with excitement. 

You and your siblings were always thrilled to see him whenever he passed your village. He even brought a few souvenirs from his travels. He was a good friend. 

You hadn’t seen him since your mother’s death and moving in with your stepfamily. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t miss him. He was the father figure you wanted your father to be, but of course, you had to get a heartless monster. 

Even though you hadn’t seen Faelon in years, you felt comfortable telling him what had happened in the past years. He was sympathetic when you told him of your mother’s and sister’s death, and that your father had failed to protect you from the wrongs done by his wife’s family. 

He helped you get shoes and proper clothing before addressing the mystery of your lack of memories and waking up in a forest. 

“This thing of you waking in a forest worries me. Are you certain you remember nothing of what happened before waking up?” Faelon questioned as you two walked out of the tailor shop. You got used to feeling fabric against your skin and the warmth of your shoes before answering. 

“I remember having some kind of dream, but for some reason, I can't recall what happened in it. I remember... feeling a sense of excitement and then just... nothing,” You explained. 

Faelon hums thoughtfully. “This is concerning, especially when werewolves of Sauron had been more active in these parts of the land,” He said. 

“Could it be… some kind of illness?” You suggested. 

“Despite the circumstances of you waking up in a forest without clothes. You seem quite healthy to me. I sense there might be something else involved,” He answered. “However, I think I should bring you somewhere safe first. This town isn’t exactly the ideal place to stay,” He said as you felt weary of the looks some people sent you. 

Faelon stopped and turned toward you. “I know your father kicked you out, but do you know any place where you could go? Other relatives perhaps?” He asked. 

“My brother lives with his family from the south of here. He wanted nothing to do with our father, so he moved as far away as possible. I have visited him a few times. He might be willing to take me in,” You answered. 

“That’s good. Let us go there and then try to solve your waking up in a forest mystery,” Faelon continued walking with you following behind him. “My horse is not far from here. I will take you to your brother,” He added. 

“Thank you for helping me, Faelon,” You said. 

“It’s nothing. If I had known you were facing these kinds of troubles. I would have come to find you earlier,” He smiled. You then heard noises behind you. Two rough-looking men threw a weak-looking man onto the muddy ground. A small crowd surrounded them and watched as they threatened him. 

“Your payment is late. Where is the money you owe us?” One of the bigger men demanded. 

You frowned when you saw them continue to beat the poor man after he said he didn’t have them and needed more time. You noticed the other people looking and walking away, too fearful to get involved. 

“I now know what you meant about this town not being an ideal place to stay,” You said, looking away from the scene. 

“Yes, this town is filled with thugs. It’s for the best that we go now and not get involved,” Faelon said as you two continued your way to his horse. 

After you found his horse, you sat behind him as he guided his horse to leave through the town entrance.  When you were about to pass through, your path was suddenly blocked by two men. 

“Hey, you can’t leave till you pay the toll to pass through,” One of the men said. 

“That’s interesting. I didn’t need to pay such a thing when I entered,” Faelon frowned at the man. 

“A new policy of the town. You now had to pay the toll to get in and out,” The other man explained. 

“And how much is this toll?” Faelon asked.

“Let’s just say… eight silver coins for both of you,” The first man said, and your eyes widened. 

“Are you joking? That’s a robbery!” You snapped at them, gaining their attention on you. 

“Four silver, If you leave the girl. The boss has been announcing all pretty ladies get well paid if they keep him company tonight,” The man said with a grin and you paled. Your arms instinctually wrapped tighter around Faelon’s waist. Faelon patted your hand assuringly before grabbing his pouch. 

“That won’t be necessary. I pay the toll,” Faelon pulled eight silver coins and tossed them to the man. The man scruffed before getting away. 

“You may go then,” He said as Faelon and you passed them and rode into the woods. You looked back for a moment, having an awful feeling. The two men looked after your way before turning away. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the feeling and focus on something else as Faelon took you away from the town. 

—----------------------------

“I’m sorry you had to pay such a high price for me,” You said as his horse walked through the forest. 

“It’s alright. These are… difficult times. You can find thieves lurking in every corner of the world,” Faelon explained. 

You glanced around the forest and then at the sky where you saw the sun slowly setting over to the horizon. Worry and anxiety crept in as you thought of the night and all the dangers you would face if you stayed outside too long. You had nothing except Faelon to keep you safe and you really did not wish to wake up in some forest again. 

“Do you think we make it before nightfall?” You asked. 

“There is a village up some miles away. We can rest through the night there. We will be safe from the werewolves,” Faelon comforted. 

You thought about the men from the town and the other things that lurked in the dark. “It’s not really the werewolves that worries me,” You said. 

After you said that, an arrow suddenly flew out of nowhere and struck Faelon in the chest. You gasped as the arrow caused Faelon to groan and hunch over his saddle. His horse then whined and backed away when men from the town came out of the bushes. 

“No!” You screamed when you felt two of them pull you off the horse. 

“Faelon!” You yelled. 

“(Name)!” Faelon yelled but before he could react, he was pulled down by three other men. 

You stared in fear when you saw the men start kicking the wounded elf and try to steal his horse, which reared and pulled back from the attackers. You then began pulling back from the men that held your arms. 

The two men who grabbed you tried to pull back, but your unnatural strength began to pull them with you, causing their feet to slide against the ground. In your anger, you managed to swipe your hand out of their grab and strike one of them with the back of your hand. The strike was hard enough to toss him to the ground and break his jaw. With your other hand free, you pulled yourself free from the other man and kicked him hard enough to send him flying against a tree. 

With your freedom back, you tried to march over to Faelon to help him. However, since he had three men attacking them, the two of them quickly stopped you. You pushed them back, causing their feet to slide as well. 

“Fuck! She’s stronger than she looks!” One of the men yelled while struggling to stop you. 

“Knock her out! Now!” The other one commanded, and you weren’t quick enough to stop the man behind you who used the hilt of a sword to hit you in the back of your head. The strike left you disoriented and defenseless as they grabbed you again, pulling you away from Faelon and his horse. 

One of the men still tried to take the horse but Faelon’s companion fought back. 

“Leave the horse! We already got what we wanted!” The man above you yelled and they left Faelon and his horse alone. You struggled to stay conscious and fight back as they took you away but the hit to your head was harder than you thought and you blacked out. 

Faelon’s horse worriedly stood before him, sniffing and whining as he recovered from the assault and the arrow on his chest. He comforted his loyal companion before looking back at where the men took you. He struggled to breathe but it did not stop him from fearing the worst of what those men would do to you. 

—-----------------------------

The men dragged you through the town before taking you inside one of the houses. You began regaining consciousness and woke up after they dropped you off in a corner where other young women were left off. You rubbed the spot in the back of your head where you were hit, groaning when you felt an awful headache. 

“Are you okay?” One of the women asked. She was a pretty woman, most likely your age. Her eyes held worry when she inspected the bruises on your skin. 

“I’m fine.” You replied even though you had a headache. You looked at the women and even saw a young girl who looked younger than all of you. 

You saw other men in the room and slowly realized what was happening. Your attention was then taken by the man who sat on a chair in the middle of the room like a king in a court. You felt an awful dread as you observed them. 

One of the men who took you pointed at you. “This one nearly got away! Had to knock her out to get her here,” He said. 

“Excellent! I guess we can get started then,” The man on the chair looked toward you with twisted glee. 

“You can’t do this to us! We won’t allow it!” One of the women screamed. 

“Shut up!” One of the men snapped at her. 

“Now! Now! Let us not be rude to our guests,” The man on the chair spoke, standing up and looking toward you. “And like I said before. All you will be well paid if you keep company to us for the night,” He said. 

“And if we refuse?” You asked while trying to keep your calm. 

“Well… the old man is no longer in charge of the town. You should do what we say or things might get messy,” He answered. 

The women next to you started sobbing and hugging each other for comfort. You stared at the man in anger.

“Now, Now, there’s no need for tears. This is a joyful occasion. I can assure you we will treat you well,” The man spoke again. 

“Treat us well? I was literally taken against my will after your goons attacked my friend!” You snapped at him. “He better not be dead!” 

“Oh? That… “ The man looked at you like it was not a huge thing. “I apologize but we did send word that none of the women were allowed to leave the town without our permission,” He explained. 

One of his men suddenly came forward. “I can’t wait anymore. I want this one!” He grabbed the young girl by her hair, forcing her up and taking her off the group. 

“No! No! Please stop! I don’t want this!” The girl pleaded in tears. 

“No! Please! She’s way too young for this!” The woman next to you pleaded, reaching out for her. Even you leaned forward when the man brought the girl before their leader. 

“She’s only fifteen!” One of the women said. 

“Fifteen? So, she had just recently matured. Well, I think it would be good for her to start having experience, taken she might be doing this more in the future,” The men’s leader spoke while staring at the girl with interest. 

“No!” The girl cried fearfully. 

Your heart started pounding painfully against your chest at the sight. Panic and anger began to take hold of your mind. You struggled to breathe as you were reminded of what happened with your sister, how your uncle touched her against her will and coerced her into the very thing that took her life.  Your fingers dug deep against the wooden floor, causing splinters to pierce through your skin and your blood to bleed through. 

You were not able to look away from two men and the innocent girl, who was sobbing endlessly. 

“You know what you need do to get out of this…” The voice suddenly returned. “You can save the poor girl…” You listened to the voice. 

“All you have to do… is kill them,” 

Your eyes turned golden and you felt your teeth become sharper. Your nails turned into the claws as you felt familiar bloodlust taking control. 

“Kill them.” The voice commanded. 

A growl escaped your mouth. You charged at the man who held the girl and tackled him to the floor, plunging your teeth into his neck. The man screamed as you ripped out his throat, splurting blood on the floor. 

“What the fuck?!” One of the men yelled as you turned your attention to them. They looked back with shock and newfound fear. 

You stared at their leader, who backed away as you growled at him. You then charged and swiped your claws against his face, ripping off his lower jaw and plunging your teeth into his neck. 

The women, despite the horror of watching you slaughter the men, took the chance to flee to the door. The woman from next to you grabbed the girl from the floor after you tackled the man who held her and took her out of the house. The men howled in terror as you slaughtered them. 

After opening the door, the women fled from the house. They returned to their homes, crying and telling their families what was happening. The wailing of dying men echoed from the house, causing the town’s people to hide and be too afraid to get involved. A tall man stood before the house, covering his face with a hood and watching the house. After the women left and the screaming stopped he began walking toward it. 

You were feasting upon one of the men. The man was still alive, struggling to breathe and watching in horror as you ate him alive. The life soon disappeared from his eyes and he fell motionless on the floor, just like his leader and friends.

Blood dressed the floors and walls. The limbs and parts of the men who took you lay everywhere, decorating the house after your carnage. 

When your ears caught footsteps and the sound of the door being closed, you turned around and snarled at the intruder. Sauron stood before you with his arms crossed. You stopped growling and backed away with your head down. You apologetically whined, recognizing him as your lord and master. 

Sauron hummed as he glanced around at the bloodshed you had caused. He nodded approvingly as he had commanded you to do so. He returned his attention to you while walking toward the great chair in the middle. 

“Aren’t you a curious one,” He said as he sat down on the chair. He then beckoned you to come to him. 

Moving on fours, you swiftly moved over the bodies and crouched before his knees. You gently grabbed the hand he held toward you, sniffing in his scent before leaning your head upon his hand. 

Sauron gently stroked the top of your head before grabbing your chin to make you look at him. 

“Outside a human, yet still a wolf inside.” He said thoughtfully while you stared at him adoringly like all his wolves. His lips turned into a wicked grin. “My little wolf. I believe you will be very useful to me in the future,”