#Silmarillion fanfiction

[xximmortalkissxx]

Where the Shadows Lie (Bonus Chapter: A Pact Forged in Darkness)

I wanted to get something posted while I'm still working on Chapter 2 of Where the Shadows Lie. I thought a peek into Móriel and Sauron's past might be fun. This is without a doubt a porn with plot filler episode.

Pairings: Sauron/Mairon x Móriel (Original Character: Daughter of Morgoth) 

Summary: In the shadowy halls of Angband, Móriel returns home from battle to claim her reward: a weapon forged by her arch rival, Sauron. Tasked by Morgoth, Sauron crafts a spear as powerful as it is beautiful, while Móriel secretly watches, captivated by his mastery and the fire in his eyes. When he finally presents her with the spear, a charged duel incites, igniting into an explosive tumble that neither saw coming. In that stolen moment, they both realize that the secrets to their ambitions may very well lie within each other.

Warnings: (18+! Smut: Slight Knife Play, Fingering, Sex, Anal Play, Biting, Brat Taming) Brief mentions of violence.

Word Count: 2k Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The steady sound of footsteps on stone echoed softly as Móriel strode into the vast and ominous main hall of Angband. Her dark armor was still marred with the stains and viscera of battle, accompanied by the smell of smoke and ash lingering on her skin. The Daughter of Morgoth's radiant gaze was fixed ahead as her father’s looming throne came into view. 

The Dark Lord Morgoth sat shrouded in shadow, his dark piercing eyes following her every move as she approached. At the base of his throne, Móriel  knelt and bowed deeply, the small decorative blades dangling from her hair ringing as she waited for his voice to rumble through the darkness.

“My Daughter returns victorious,” Morgoth began, a dark amusement glinting in his cold eyes, “Word has reached me of your ruthlessness on the battlefield, Móriel. The children of Ilúvatar, reduced to carrion at your feet.” The Dark Lord paused and Móriel bristled in anticipation. “Though if all the tales are to be believed, you have begun to reap veneration amongst my thralls as well as you reap lives.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her father brooked no rivals even as he surrounded himself with vipers.

“Is that not so, Lieutenant?”

The sound of footsteps resonated through the hall, then stopped beside Morgoth's throne. Móriel  kept her head low, but her eyes flicked up carefully to catch the new arrival. Sauron, as always, with his venom dripping into her father's ear.

“The victory and veneration are yours Father, I am but your weapon, a blunt instrument,” Móriel replied smoothly, her voice dipped in reverence. “To wield as you will.”

A malevolent smile creased Morgoth’s lips, pleased yet observant, as if evaluating the truth behind her words. She felt the weight of his gaze on her, and inwardly, she hoped her staunch loyalty appeared genuine. Her very existence depended on it.

Beside the throne, Sauron stood silently, observing Móriel with a bemused smirk. His eyes held her with an unsettling glint making her wonder just how much he truly saw. After a prolonged silence, Morgoth finally spoke, his voice reverberating like thunder. “Such devotion deserves reward in kind. You shall bear a weapon tailored to your reputation.” 

He looked to Sauron, and the order was clear.

“Make it for her,” he commanded. “Forge a weapon of true power.”

Sauron inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “As you command, my lord.”

************************************************************************

In the days that followed, Móriel found herself drawn to the forge where Sauron labored, watching the steady, controlled tension of his body as he bent metal and magic to his will. She was captivated by the dichotomy of the being before her. His copper hair, which was always kept orderly, now had stray tendrils falling across his face. Where there had been cold, calculating composure, he now held a furrowed brow and a gaze lost in fervent thought. Keeping to the shadows, Móriel observed longingly as Sauron poured the dark sorcery of his craft into the weapon, her weapon, a zealous fire reflecting in her eyes. 

The spear, once completed, was a masterpiece—deadly and elegant. Its shaft was lined with runes of binding and power while the tip was a mosaic of both light and dark steel, a subtle homage to its mistress. The very shadows seemed to dance along its length and Móriel could feel them pulse with corrupted magic. Sauron wiped his hands on a rag coated in soot, his lips curling into a smile as he sensed her approach.

“You can stop lurking, Móriel,” he said without turning, his voice edged with amusement. “It is time for you to claim your prize.”

She stepped closer, her golden eyes illuminated by the flickering light of the forge. “It is remarkable,” she murmured, her fingers leisurely trailing along its length. “And…beautiful.”

Sauron tilted his head, watching her with an amused smirk. The blaze of the fire behind them caused the sheer fabric of her dress to become almost entirely translucent. He studied the contours of her body, the way the dark edges of the fabric embraced her figure, leaving just enough to tantalize his imagination.  

“Beauty is a word for fragile things. I made this to be unbreakable, akin to its bearer.” He took the spear into his hands, his gaze lingering on her expectantly. But as Móriel’s fingers grazed the shaft, Sauron swiftly pivoted his body and spun the spear from her grasp, chastising her with the shake of his head and the tsk of his tongue. 

“I said you would have to claim it,” he corrected pointedly, positioning his body in preparation for her next move. 

Móriel’s eyes narrowed, but there was an amused smirk on her lips.

“As you like,” She replied nonchalantly, circling him slowly like a predator moving in on their prey. 

Sauron dodged her initial strikes with ease, moving with an effortless grace as he kept the spear just shy of her grasp. Móriel in turn pursued him like a shadow, making their duel look more like a dance than a true conflict. With a malicious grin, she snatched one of his forming hammers and sent it flying in his direction. Sauron easily repelled the tool with the spear but was too slow to counter Móriel as she seized the shaft and pushed him firmly against the stone wall. 

“I could get used to this Mairon,” she purred, tightening her grip on the spear. “Yield to me, now.” She commanded, her eyes blazing with impending triumph.

Sauron met her eyes with an amused glint and slowly loosened his hold. Móriel took the opening, blind to the obvious deception, and was met with the shaft of the spear connecting with her throat. Sauron spun her around effortlessly and pulled her body firmly against his. Móriel seized the shaft, but it was hopeless as Sauron tightened his grip and continued to choke her.  She thrashed against him at first, then as he pressed the spear harder against her throat her thrashing evolved into something else entirely. She began to squirm, rolling her hips against him eagerly. Before she could catch herself, a choked moan escaped her lips. Móriel could feel the vibration of Sauron’s snicker against her back and the warmth of his breath.

“So greedy,” he murmured, running his teeth along her ear. “but I am nothing if not generous. Yield to me now and I can ease that ache between your legs.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Móriel loosened her hold on the spear and eased her body against his, rolling her head back against his chest. A wicked grin settled over Sauron’s face in response, relaxing the spear from her neck. Móriel's eyes darkened with delight, she had always been his most adept student. Seizing the spear firmly once more, she plunged them forward and used their gathered momentum to wrench the spear from his hands. As they landed, Móriel straddled him with the tip of her spear resting against his bobbing throat. 

The silence in the forge was deafening as they held each other’s gaze. Móriel’s heart raced as she tried to read him, to see beyond his carefully crafted mask. At best she expected indignation, at worst unbridled fury. But all she could see when she looked into his eyes was amusement and desire. The tension between them crackled like the air before a lightning strike, and before she could think better of it, Móriel found herself leaning in, drawn to the yearning dancing in his eyes. Their lips met, soft at first, hesitant—as though both feared to cross the threshold they had danced around for so long. It wasn’t long however before the kiss deepened, passion igniting between them as the spear clattered loudly to the stone floor. Sauron ran his fingers through her hair until his hand cupped the back of her neck, while Móriel held his head firmly in her hands, running her fingers over the tips of his pointed ears. 

When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other, both searching desperately for words.

“I have claimed what is mine,” Móriel stated, breaking the silence between them, “now claim what is yours.” 

Sauron’s eyes widened with a zealous fire at her words, Morgoth’s most prized possession, his for the taking- it brought him a vindictive sense of satisfaction. 

“Gladly.” he replied, grabbing the soft flesh of her leg and rolling her under him. Removing a small knife from his leather apron, Sauron cut through the sheer material of her dress, making sure the tip of the blade kissed her skin until she lay bare beneath him. Móriel’s breath caught, her arousal palpable at his blade’s gentle touch. Once his knife had finished its work, Sauron tossed it aside and slipped his hands between her legs until he found purchase against her cunt. He hummed in delight, she was already so deliciously wet for him as he massaged her clit vigorously. With each stroke, Móriel moaned his name loudly and bucked her hips against his hand, begging for him to fill the emptiness aching within her. 

“Shh, my Zahovar. Do you want your father to hear you?” Sauron teased as he dipped two of his fingers within her and began pumping rapidly. Móriel moaned his name louder in response, delighted by her new epithet. Zahovar - or jewel in the Black Speech. Sauron had taken her bait, now seeing himself as her new possessor. 

Just as Móriel felt a warm electric tingle begin to spread from between her legs, he removed his fingers and slowly licked along their crease. The vexed huff she gave in response caused Sauron to chuckle darkly. 

“If I am to claim you, it is only right that I decide when you reach your full pleasure.” he drawled, plunging his fingers into her mouth. Móriel wrapped her lips around them, her eyes locking on to his, as she bit down hard. 

“Ow.” Sauron responded stoically, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“To claim me, you will need to endure more pain than that.” Móriel hummed cheerfully, giving his fingers a gentle kiss.

“Móriel, I have toiled at a forge since the beginning of time itself. The burn of your skin will do nothing to dissuade me.” Sauron replied, trailing his hand down her jaw and gripping it tight.

“Now, on your knees.” He commanded, kissing her sloppily against the mouth. Móriel rolled over slowly and arched her back towards him. She could hear the rustling of clothing and quickly felt his fingers dig into hips as his knee spread her legs apart. With a firm hand, Sauron pushed her upper back down until she could feel her face and breasts press against the cold stone. Móriel tried rolling her hips against him, begging to feel any part of him touching her aching cunt. With a loud crack, Sauron’s hand clapped against her ass causing Móriel to cry out with pleasure. 

“Please, try that again.” Sauron threatened, his free hand hovering over the red mark forming on her skin. 

“Do you promise to be rougher?” Móriel mused wistfully, earning the rumble of a sinister laugh and a thumb plunging into her rosebud, as she was sharply tugged against him. A surprised yelp escaped her lips as it hooked inside her.    

“For you? Always,” he replied with mock affection, edging the tip of his erection against her dripping cunt. “But only if you obey me.” 

Móriel groaned in frustration, but kept her hips still, allowing him to maintain control. His pride would be his undoing, but Móriel was patient; this could be her chance to dissect something from the great deceiver; raw, intimate, and useful.

“Very good-” Sauron noted before letting out a deep groan of his own as he drove himself inside her. She sighed with ecstasy as he continued to thrust, his groin slapping against her ass with so much force that his thumb shared the momentum. Móriel listened with delight as he moaned strings of curses in the Black Speech, his voice low, almost a growl. Quaking around his cock, she released a lusty whine and begged him to let her touch herself. Her new reverence earned a rumble of approval, and Móriel wasted no time massaging her clit as she was pounded into the stone floor furiously. 

Soon, the intense tingling warmth returned, and Móriel felt herself losing all control as she bit down a scream and gripped herself around his erection. Sauron groaned, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his own climax. Móriel continued to pulse herself around him, taking pleasure in the little noises he made in response. Nearing his own orgasm, Sauron slipped his thumb from inside her and his hands tightened over her hips like a vice. With a final curse, he pushed himself into Móriel as far as he could, shuddering inside her as he released his seed. 

Panting, Sauron pulled her onto his lap and leaned against the cold stone wall. They stayed there for a time, his arms wrapped around her possessively, until the shuffle of feet and the sound of voices carried down the hall. Neither made an attempt to cover themselves and stayed planted where they were, Moriel nibbling along Sauron's neck as a lone orc came into view.

“The Dark Lord has commanded your presence.” he stated brusquely, lumbering into the chamber with a look of disinterest. Through his eyes, the couple stood on either end of a work table, Móriel's hand running a whet stone across the edge of her new spear.

“We will be there shortly-” Sauron replied, a slight hitch in his voice as Móriel bit harder against his throat. The orc nodded and left, slamming the heavy door behind him.

“That was close,” She cooed in his ear, as though she hadn't just attempted to break his concentration. “It would have been tragic if Father found out about this. The thought of you being torn apart and put back together, again and again…” Móriel trailed off, as if caught in a wistful dream.

“With you alongside me my radiant Zahovar,” Sauron retorted, his mouth pressed firmly against her ear. “Presently, all Morgoth sees between us is rivalry. Two of his most loyal servants vying for power against one another, and distracted from greater ambitions.” 

“Is that not the way of things Mairon?” Móriel asked, slipping her hand into his with feigned affection. “Or do you wish for more?”

“As a god, your father's strength is undeniable. But all he wishes is to destroy.” Sauron replied.

“I wish to create. A perfect unending order, encompassing all of Middle Earth. Guided by more… deft hands.” he added, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Your hands.” Móriel scoffed, her eyes burning with indignation.

“Our hands,” Sauron corrected, giving her hand a tender kiss. He noted the flush on her cheeks and the fervor in her eyes. Móriel was her father's daughter in most respects. The concepts of mercy, kindness, and empathy were foreign to her. But Morgoth was only half of her lineage. Móriel's hunger for power and veneration was born of something different from her father’s. She was singular. In all creation, there was no being like her. The origins of her birth brought power, but there was terrible loneliness and fear in her as well. These qualities made her far more pliant than Morgoth ever could be, and Sauron was determined to use them to his advantage.  Móriel and the terrible might she wielded would be his, in time, just like the rest of Middle Earth. 

[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

[lyragoth]

(...) "Tyelkormo, what troubles you?" 

Celegorm sniffled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Maitimo and Macalaulë," he mumbled. "They are mean!"

Fëanor tilted his head slightly, a faint smile easing his stern expression. "Macalaurë," he corrected gently, emphasizing the proper pronunciation... ever the scholar.

"Macalaulë," Celegorm repeated, his attempt sounding much the same. His tears began to subside.

Fëanor chuckled. "Very well, Macalaulë it is," he conceded with amusement. “Tell me what mischief have your brothers done?”

Celegorm hesitated, then blurted, "They said Uncle Finarfin found me in a bear’s cave and offered me to you and amya!"

“Did they now?” "Yes!" Celegorm's hands clenched at his sides. "Why do people always mistake me for Uncle Finarfin's son? I hate it! Is it because he was the one who found me in the cave?" "Tyelkormo, no one found you in a cave—least of all Finarfin," Fëanor said, exasperated at the absurdity. "You were born of me and your mother. Do not let such foolishness trouble you." His fiery temper kindled at his elder sons’ thoughtlessness. He would see to their discipline in due time. For now, his focus remained on Tyelkormo.

Placing his hands gently on the boy’s small shoulders, he spoke with firm tenderness. "Listen to me, Tyelkormo. You are my son. A Fëanorian, through and through. Maitimo and Macalaurë may jest, but their words hold no truth. You resemble someone precious, certainly not Finarfin, but someone I carry in my heart always, though I seldom speak of her."

Celegorm blinked, curious. "Who?"

Fëanor’s gaze softened. "My mother."

[eilinelsghost]

Now Ringed About With Wolves

For @sallysavestheday. Here's to fomenting good trouble, of whatever shape or measure.

Finduilas sat silently, hands upon her knees, back straight, her eyes placid as she gazed over the Hall.

They did not attempt to conceal their disdain now. The king’s seat had been removed and her father placed on a plain chair between the brothers, timid as a fawn who has seen the hunter strike. In that at least, she found she was more inclined to pity than to blame. He had never wanted a crown. And indeed the silver filigree seemed to wrap itself about his brow in mockery—a further ridicule as he sat flanked by wolves at his own high table, their laughter passing over him as his silence grew deeper with each passing day.

Her eyes drifted across the cavern till they found the table where young Gildor had joined the feast. He was clad, as was his wont since arriving with all the fury of a gale from the Havens, in meticulous Telerin regalia, the alpatancula[1] glinting in challenge from each shoulder beneath the festal lights. Tonight, Finduilas noted, he had donned the king’s own robes, a loose-draped sea of blue and pale green, and the eight-crested wave of Olwë’s house stood out conspicuously at his throat. He met her eye and the brief touch of his thought brushed like a nod against her own.

Good. The wine was running low and Celegorm would soon beckon for the steward. It would take them an hour at least to undo the reversed lock without damage to the door—Gildor was a clever craftsman when the mood was upon him—and by then the revelers would have begun to grow restless. She had heard the grumbling already after the scant meal of the previous night. Felagund was never so tight-fisted. A fool to be sure, but his board at least was never preferential. The gathered lords knew nothing, of course, of the mad scramble in the kitchens when it was found that half the pork had been salted nearly to winter’s preservation. The chief table was already served by the time it was discovered and the brothers well into their meal before the rationed remainder had been distributed to the others gathered within the Hall. “My father and I will forego,” Finduilas had said, holding out her untouched plate to the anxious steward who brought the news. “Please take our portions to another.”

She had seen Curufin’s eyes flash in the periphery, heard the imprecations hissed under his breath, but his wife had laughed aloud. Self-righteous little shrew. Etillië had reached out in defiance to draw another serving to her own plate. If a performance of piety would sway their hearts, they’d have belonged to Felagund yet.

It was Finduilas whose lips twitched now, grim and determined. Let them sneer. It would not make their triumph rest more easily. She would see to it. The mislaid documents, the ruined pork, the severed bell-wire in the council chamber, the wine they could not reach, the murmurs traveling along the shadows and corners…She had scampered as a child amid these caverns and learned mischief in the labyrinth of their winding ways.

Let the revelers pour their wine. Let them feast and let them crush their shame.

She and Gildor would set a fire beneath their feet, prick a thousand little stings that would turn their prize to a burden. And in the quiet of the empty halls, when torches flared amid the feasting and all made merry deep into the night, she would slip like a shade by ways that none might see—and in the soft, keen ears of their turncoat hound would plant the whisper of a hidden door.

[1] alpatancula: (Telerin) roughly: swan-brooch or swan-clasp. Utilized to fasten the cloth together at each shoulder.

(Also on AO3)

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine reuniting with your brothers after many years since their deaths

After many years, you finally return home and reunite with your family.

Requested by Anon

Hello💕 hope you been well, I was wondering if you could doa continuation of that imagine about being a son of Fëanor but not taking the oath, something about reader meeting his brothers and father in the hall of mandos, with all comfort and angst please 💕💕

Continuation of this: Imagine being one of the sons of Feanor, but...

Warnings: dead characters come to life, a bit angst, mentions of your blind eye and disownment, fluff, reunion, you make amends with your brothers and father, from angst to comfort.

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

- After many years of living in Middle Earth, surviving the events of the first and second ages, and witnessing the end of Sauron. You were finally allowed to return to the Undying Lands, your home. 

- You once thought you were not worthy to return due to the oath and the actions of your father and brothers, even though you did not participate in any of their crimes and were disowned. So, you were shocked to learn through Glorfindel that the Valars had seen your actions as noble and granted you the right to return. 

- After years of being named the Traitor, the Unloyal, and the Forgotten by your brother’s loyal followers. Words could not describe the relief you felt. 

- You were eager to return to your home after so many centuries. However, you did refuse to leave Maglor behind, so before your departure, you tracked him down and brought him back to Elrond, who took care of him and convinced him to return home with you. The reunion was filled with many held-back emotions, and many things were finally resolved through talking. 

- After that, you finally returned home. 

- The feeling of joy filled you when you saw Aman and its familiar landscape. You felt eager and nervous when you finally arrived at the port and saw many familiar faces waiting there. 

- You watched Elrond reunite with his wife and Galadriel with her family. It was a joyful sight until you noticed the familiar red color of hair among the people and the gentle eyes of your mother. 

- Seeing her forced the tears out from your eyes as you had missed her terribly. You and Maglor embraced her as she was joyful to see two of her sons return home alive. You felt regret that you could not do the same for the rest of your brothers, but she hushed those thoughts away, as two of her children returning home was better than none. 

- You then introduced your spouse and children to her, who she welcomed with open arms. 

- You were then reunited with your uncle and the rest of the cousins who had been re-embodied and were joyful to see you again. Even after many years, you still felt strong familiar love for them as you had looked out for each other since Helcaraxe. 

- However, as time passed and you and your family adapted to the life of Valinor, you began to think about your father and the rest of your brothers. They had yet to repent and heal from the events of the first age thus they were still contained in the Halls of Mandos. You did not know how to act on those thoughts as you felt scared yet yearned to see them again. Even if you were still technically disowned and did not separate from your brothers on good terms, you still held love for them. 

- The scar in your eye has faded over the years, leaving only a faded line. Your eyesight never truly returned, causing it to remain white like a pearl. You did not mind it as you were used to having it. However, it still reminded you of the day when your father raised his sword at you and disowned you from his family. 

- You shared these thoughts with your family. Your mother and Maglor encouraged you to see them if that was what you wished. Doing so might heal some unresolved wounds within yourself. Your spouse also supported the idea, even if they had reserved thoughts about your father after hearing what he had done to you. 

- After that discussion and deep consideration, you decided to visit the Halls of Mandos. 

- The halls were eerie and made you think about scenarios if you had been killed and come to this place. The events of the first age were recorded in the halls, giving you a sense of nostalgia and sorrow. Even if you wanted to forget such events, you understood some records were important so future generations would not make the same mistake. 

- Mandos permitted you to seek your brothers and fathers after hearing your reasoning, and you were left searching for them among the spirits that had yet to heal or be re-embodied. 

- The first of your brothers to be found were the twins. Seeing them together again made you feel relief and your reunion was a happy one. 

- Caranthir was the next. He felt regret because the last time you saw each other: he had lashed out at you and said hurtful things. You assured him that you had forgiven him a long time ago. 

- Celegorm and Curufin were the next and though they did many terrible things while alive, especially seeing you as the traitor of your house. They admitted to their wrongs and understanding of your decision not to swear the oath. They no longer held it as an act of cowardice and unfaithfulness. In fact, they claimed how you had been wiser and even daring for standing up to your decision. 

- You made your peace with them and continued looking. 

- You then found Maedhros as he had been filled with a lot of shame that he made himself harder to find. It was a good thing that you were better at looking. 

- You two talked for a long time and he felt grief for what he had done and said to you. It was a deep discussion and you told him you held nothing against him. Even after everything, he and the rest of your siblings never stopped being your brothers. 

- The hardest one to find was your father. 

- Your brothers shared that your father had felt guilt over his actions, especially for what he had done to you, so he most likely hid himself away from you. With their help, you managed to locate him. 

- You found him alone near the tree where your grandmother resided in her eternal sleep and sat down beside him. 

- You did not give him a chance to avoid you and you two had a proper talk since the first age. He expressed his regret and admitted he fell into madness during the darkening. You saw how he avoided looking at you, more specifically your blind eye. It seemed your eye was an awful reminder of what he did to you. 

- You stopped him from rambling and told him how you stopped blaming him years ago. The circumstances back then were awful and you understood that your grandfather’s death was the last straw for him, causing his madness. The only one to blame for it all was Morgoth as he was the one who orchestrated it and took advantage of your father’s vulnerability.  

- Your father praised how wise you had become and how he was grateful that you did not follow him blindly like the rest of your brothers. 

- You grew wiser over the years, thanks to your experiences, even if they brought you a lot of pain and sorrow. 

- You embraced him and together you wept, finally being able to let go of the pain and be at peace with your past.

Tag list: @4mnd4aph

[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

[sauron-kraut]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64095604

I don't know what it is today but Tumblr will not let me insert the link properly. Oh well.

Blasphemy

Summary: Melkor lets Mairon sit on his throne.

Wohooo, catch me writing some more Angbang; a rare event! This was supposed to be a birthday gift for @admirably-abhorrent back in February, but then life happened and only now was I able to finally put this lil piece out there. I hope you'll enjoy it. 🖤

Pairing: Melkor x Mairon

Words: 503

Warnings: sexual content

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

Not beta read!

Find it here under the cut.

Blasphemy frees.

Laughter tumbles from his wicked mouth and spreads throughout the throne room like beads of red-hot molten glass. It tumbles freely. He has found liberation in serving him, Melkor knows. Piety has always been an ill-fitting, ugly thing on him, rotting away until he shed it like old skin. A blessing. 

Melkor wraps his arms around Mairon’s waist, sits him up where they lay sprawled out on the black marble floor together, Mairon’s hair rivulets of magma upon cold rock and Melkor’s own raven strands. 

Blasphemy when Melkor lifts him up and places him upon his throne like something precious, a Vala’s throne, his, and yet Mairon sits as though it were his very nature to be crowned. To be revered. He sinks back against the stone, lopsided grin on his lips, cheeks rosy with life and lechery. 

Melkor kneels. A smile tugs on the corners of his mouth, a rare little thing. Mairon’s divinity drowns in his monstrous aliveness at times, and the little that is life in Melkor, all of it, will take shape before him. 

He can breathe a god alive.

Mairon’s burgundy robe has ridden up on his smooth thighs. He opens his legs and nonchalantly rests his arms on either side of Melkor’s throne. His grin grows wider, and Melkor moves closer, comes to kneel between Mairon’s thighs. He looks up at Mairon, looks up at him who serves, and Mairon cups Melkor’s cheek. His palm feels exquisitely warm against Melkor’s cool skin. Mairon is breathing heavily with anticipation. 

When he speaks, his voice coats the cold throne room, like something rich, something lascivious and hot. 

“Unnatural, my lord. Unnatural is what we are, Melkor.” Mairon chuckles, a soft, low sound, and Melkor can hear how he savours each vowel, each consonant in perverse pleasure. “A Maia on a Vala’s throne… What would father think? Or your brother, most beloved of his? Mmh?”

Melkor places a kiss above Mairon’s left knee, then on the inside of his thigh. A sharp inhale and graceful fingers twining in his hair, nails scraping Melkor’s scalp.

“And to think you put me here…” A sigh when Melkor’s lips wander higher up. He stops, then speaks.

“Then let us revel in all that is unnatural and all that is not right, Mairon.” Melkor licks a trail up to Mairon’s groin. “I gave you freedom in servitude, sweetling. Freedom to create anew to swallow all that was right in this old world. You serve, and you may decorate my throne uncrowned, and let the crowned one serve in turn, for now.” He gently tugs at the tender skin of Mairon’s inner thigh with his teeth. “You and I, we feast on annihilation.”

Melkor pulls Mairon’s robe aside then, breathes hotly against wet waiting flesh. Mairon’s arousal has leaked onto the black stone of the throne. Alive. With a low hum, Melkor presses his lips against him, licks into his wetness, might lose himself in him, worshipped servant, and pushes his tongue inside.

[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 😭

[sadtimo]

The more Aranya spoke, the more confused Maitimo became. She looked like a child, yet she spoke with the maturity and dignity of someone much older.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Excuse me, but, how is it that you are old enough to work in the healing halls?”

Aranya’s head snapped up and she regarded him with a scathing gaze, her eyes narrow and her jaw clenched.

“I am older than you, Your Highness,” she said coldly. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making comments about my height or my apparent youth. How would you like it if I commented about your height?”

~~~

This illustration, and the accompanying story excerpt, are from my fanfic "Ill Chances and Strange Fates." After little Telvo (Amras) got hurt in an accident, Maitimo took him to the healing halls. There they encountered a very petite, youthful looking, and pretty healer named Aranya... and Maitimo got into the most embarrassing conversation of his life (so far, anyway!)

I had a lot of fun drawing this. It was a fun study in color theory, with Maitimo and Telvo's warm coloring looking out-of-place in the serene blue healing halls of the House of Nolofinwë. Also, I headcanon Maitimo with curly hair, but at this point in his life, he doesn't have his Curly Elf routine yet! Hence why his hair looks frizzy and vaguely wavy. That's how my hair looked irl before I learned my curl routine.

If you're interested in checking out the full story, you can read it here!

[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

[vera-vera-vera-lynn]

Here’s a draft of one of my Silmarillion SI-OCs, Fincafinwë Eletyel (Elathel in Sindarin); her name meaning ‘Petty Finwë’ and ‘End(er) of Stars’.

I’ve been thinking of what to do with someone who's the youngest child and only daughter of Fëanor, and while I was brainstorming, I instead decided to make a portrait out of the blue. Please don’t mind the messiness of it all oof (T o T) it’s my first time doing anything without lineart lol.

I wanted to finish this piece as an early birthday gift to myself, but I could already feel the writer + artist’s block starting to hit and so contented myself to doing what I could while I still had the motivation lmao.

Anyway, it’s a bit of a fabric + pose study too! I'm particularly proud of that silk and those hands (' v ')

Some better close-ups here:

[sevikas-biceps]

ok random as hell but would y'all read a Jinx dimension travel fic set in Middle-earth

[ylieke]

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

[eilinelsghost]

Atandil turns 2 today?!

Struggling to wrap my head around the fact that this series has been consuming my brain for two whole years now. When I posted the first installment, I remember saying in the notes that it would end up being "somewhere around 10-15 installments total" and oh poor silly naive 2023 Frankie.

We're at 20 (very nearly 21) installments and 176,547 words after 2 years of it and are about [checks outline notes] halfway there?

I'm so grateful for my niche little group of readers who have been so consistent and engaged despite my very slow writing process. You've all meant the world to me and your enthusiasm and comments have pretty much single-handedly kept me from falling back into the 15 year writing drought that preceded this. I love you all ❤️

Happy birthday, Atandil.

[animatorweirdo]

Painter's Passion

You are a clumsy painter in Aman. It was not a bad thing for you. Ever since you were reborn from the halls of Mandos, you have been seeking to capture the world around you in a piece of canvas. You also find yourself catching feelings for a certain red-haired Noldor prince.

Warnings: mentions of dying in the past, dead parents, being reborn, reader being incredibly clumsy and prone to accidents, falling, someone getting paint all over them, some angsty moments, confessions, and courting.

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

- Your life in Aman has been good since your release from the halls of Mandos, having healed from the wounds of the past and reunited with your younger sister. 

- It was a joyful reunion and her new family took you in since your parents never returned from death. 

- Your sister’s husband was a sweet ellon, and her in-laws were kind to you. You managed to adapt into their family soon enough and it was like you had been part of their family since the beginning. 

- They were so accepting and supported you when you found a new passion in painting and arts, even when you were quite clumsy for an elf. 

- You were enthusiastic and couldn’t help it. When you see something you want to sketch and paint, you tend to pay less attention to your surroundings and trip yourself, or end up in other predicaments. You have been like that your whole life. Ever since your release from Mandos, you just wanted to see all the beauty of the world and capture it on a canvas. 

- It was perhaps one of the reasons why your younger sister was so protective of you. When you reunited and joined her new family, she barely allowed you to be alone and wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Your brother-in-law even teased you that you kinda stole his wife, but you two figured out your sister might have still been bothered by the trauma you two experienced in Middle Earth, and you did die saving her. 

- Your sister was at least comfortable enough to let you wander as long as you had someone to accompany you. You agreed to her terms, knowing she just wanted to look out for you. 

- You managed to make yourself a name in Aman. Your skills in painting grew significantly, and you started receiving commissions even from the noble houses. However, after five months in your new life, you started to struggle to find inspiration. It was an art block and you wanted to expand what you usually painted. 

- One of the least usual places you have gone was the northern parts of Aman, and when you told your family your plans to go there, they hesitated but allowed it as long as you were careful. 

- The northern parts of Aman were lovely even though most claimed it to be cold and rather desolated. You did not mind it as it reminded you of your home in Beleriand.  

- You sketched many lovely things you saw before finding a good spot for a painting. 

- You climbed on one of the trees to have a better view of the mountains and the trees and began joyfully sketching. However, when you wanted to try using some of the paint, you accidentally dumped your arm against one of your paint vials and it fell toward the ground. It was really bothersome as it meant you would have to climb down and you climbed quite high in the tree, but what you did not expect was the vial to hit someone. 

- You were startled and stayed quiet when the elf below you yelled and cursed out in frustration. You looked down but couldn’t see anyone due to the branches. You doubted they could see you too. You listened for a while as the people below you talked, then heard them leave. You should have apologized for the mistake, but staying quiet was like a fear response when people started yelling angrily, it was something you couldn’t get rid of even during your healing in the halls of Mandos. 

- You sighed, trying to relax, but then you lost your balance and fell backward from the branch. 

- You yelled as you fell and hit the branches below. When you saw the ground coming, you braced yourself, but then you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, catching you and preventing you from hitting the ground. You looked at your savior as they held you in their arms before your art supplies fell from the tree as well, forcing you two to cover yourselves. 

- You then glanced at the ellon again. He was a rather handsome one with eyes striking blue and hair crimson like fire. 

- “Ehh…sorry and thank you,” you awkwardly laughed. “Wow… you’re quite beautiful,” you commented. 

- The handsome elf questioned if you were hurt and you assured him you did not suffer anything serious than a few bruises and twigs in your hair before explaining your reason for being in the tree and showing him the sketches you managed to draw before your ungraceful fall. 

- He looked skeptical of you at first since apparently, not many elves ventured to the northern parts of Aman, but he seemed to have relaxed when he saw your sketches and questioned if the paint vial that fell upon his brother moments ago was yours, making you feel more awkward as you confirmed it and apologized. 

- He assured you it was just an accident, nothing to get mad about though his brother who fell unintentionally as a victim would think otherwise before questioning why you couldn’t just sketch on the ground where there was less risk of falling. 

- You then started rambling about getting the perfect view of the land around you. You began showing him the sketches and paintings you managed to make and told him all the incidents that followed, like your foot getting stuck between some rocks, nearly falling into a river and a nest of owls not being very happy with you being on the same tree as them. 

- He looked impressed with your sketches but raised a brow at every incident you mentioned. 

- You then asked if he knew of any lovely views you could draw because he seemed more familiar with the land. Even though he seemed hesitant, he agreed to show you. 

- He then accompanied you, showing you places and views you might like. They looked colorless and boring to him, but you always found something beautiful and began drawing. You even rambled about how the north reminded you of Beleriand. 

- Mention of Beleriand gained his interest, and you then found out he used to live there too during the first age. You excitedly started conversing with him about it since so few spoke about it these days. 

- You recalled some of the continent's beauty and how you lived in Hithlum with your sister and family. When he told you he used to live in Himring, you got excited and asked many questions about it, wanting to imagine Himring and its snowy hills. Your new companion seemed baffled by your excitement but willingly described his former home. 

- During your little adventure, you sketched and talked while he mostly listened and made sure you did not end up in another incident. At the end of the day, he escorted you back to your home city and bid you farewell. You asked if he could show you around again the next time you wanted to visit the northern parts. He seemed genuinely surprised but said if you wanted, then he would be more than happy to show you more of the north. 

- You were delighted. You thanked him and then parted ways. When you returned home and told your family about your little adventure, they questioned the name of the elf and then you realized you had completely forgotten to ask for his name or tell him your name. 

- However, when you described him, your family seemed to know who the elf was. You then learned your new friend’s name was Maedhros, the eldest son of Feanor, who nowadays lived in Formenos, away from society.

- They urged you to stay weary of him. You felt a little confused, though you were aware of the sons of Feanor and what they did, Maedhros did not seem monster-like or someone who would want to cause harm to anyone. And besides, you believed in giving people a second chance despite their past. 

- Your family did not forbid you from meeting him again, or maybe because you forgot to mention that you were going to see him again. 

- The next time you met him, you found him where you last set off and together went on another adventure around the north. You rambled about things and he mostly listened. He wasn’t the biggest talker, but he seemed happy just listening and watching as you worked on your paintings and sketches. 

- He also made sure you were safe. He made sure you didn't accidentally fall into a ravine or get mauled by a bear for intruding on its territory. 

- He assured you he was not angry at all by these incidents, but sometimes it crossed his mind if you needed a safety harness or something, 

- You painted many lovely pieces of the north. When Maedhros escorted you back again, you finally remembered to introduce yourself. 

- Maedhros introduced himself and before he could start with anything else, you handed him a small sketch you drew last night. You explained you couldn’t stop imagining Himring and drew a sketch from his description. He was genuinely surprised by the gift, and when he didn’t give much reaction, you nearly apologized, but then he explained how you managed to draw Himring quite well without having ever seen it and he was grateful for the gift. 

- He then said he enjoyed adventuring around the north with you, and now that you knew who he was, he would respectfully stay away and you do not have to come to see him since most elves do not have anything nice to say about his father and his brothers. 

- You then smiled and asked why he would assume you never wanted to see him again. You then explained you were not bothered by his family’s reputation and that many unfortunate things happened during the first age. You would love to go on more adventures with him because not many had the patience to accompany you and save you from the incidents like he did. 

- Maedhros seemed shocked by your answer, but then his eyes softened and he even cracked a small smile. 

- He called you bold. You two had only known each other for two days, yet you already confessed to enjoying his company and wanting to see him again. You only giggled at his response, and it was the start of a beautiful friendship.  

- You told your sister about it, and even though she seemed a bit skeptical, she told you she would allow it as long as Maedhros kept you safe and would gut him alive if he dared to hurt you or anything. 

- Maedhros did not often visit the cities because of the reputation he and his family held, so you would mostly come to him instead, at the edge of the forest that became your meeting spot. You two would scout out interesting sights, draw, and paint. You would ramble about interesting things that happen in the city or your family. Maedhros shared a little about what happens between his brothers and father, as the atmosphere is pretty quiet sometimes but sometimes shenanigans happen. He was mostly interested only listening to you. 

- He was still a bit on guard, but each time you visited. He began to soften up and even share things about himself. 

- You even encouraged him to try drawing, which could help relieve bottled-up feelings and keep his focus elsewhere. While Maedhros did not have the most artistic hands, he was capable of drawing small things like flowers and rabbits. One time he drew a small good portrait of you, and you have kept it safe ever since. 

- Sometimes you tried telling funny stories and jokes to see him laugh. Only some of them made him smile and chuckle, but you have yet to make him laugh. 

- When you two would ride around, he always seemed to be on a watch out for you. You did tend to get into accidents, but even when he came for a rare visit in a city, most likely to visit his mother, he would keep on guard for you. It was like you had a big guard dog following you around, but you did not mind. 

- You met a few of his brothers when they began to notice Maedhros’s absence in their home and how he went out more. 

- Maglor was the first to notice and secretly followed his older brother once with the twins to see what had gotten him so keen on going out more often, and the three were surprised when they saw him with you. 

- Maedhros’s heart nearly jumped into his throat when he saw them, and they revealed themselves to you. For the first time in years, he was afraid they would do something to scare you away, but like with him, you did not even seem phased and greeted them enthusiastically. 

- You quickly won Maglor over when you started talking with him and even showed him your sketchbook of all the places Maedhros showed you, even unintentionally giving them a reason to tease Maedhros by showing his small drawings and the small portrait of you. 

- The twins kept asking you things and were surprised when they learned you were fully aware of who they were and did not seem bothered by their past. They quickly accepted you when you showed them the drawings and they were continuously cackling at Maedhros, who was at the edge of considering murder. 

- He knew well that they were not going to let him hear the end of it. 

- He momentarily told you to go elsewhere for a moment, and you heard him yell at them to go home before escorting you home without them. You heard one of them calling Maedhros out for having a crush. You only giggled at the rest of the journey, while Maedhros looked like a deflated balloon. 

- But some time later, your focus on art began to waver toward Maedhros, the shape of his face, his crimson hair, and the soft expression he often wore. You made a few sketches of him but felt yourself become a bit shy at the thought of giving them to him. It was surprising because you don’t usually become shy when giving people their portraits. 

- Maedhros suddenly became busy for a week, so you couldn't see him. It was something related to a family business, and during that time you grew to miss him. He did send you a letter beforehand and you couldn’t help but hold on to it.

- When your sister and brother-in-law came to visit, they found the sketches and the painting of Maedhros. You told them about your visits with him and your sudden change of feelings toward him. They seemed surprised, then explained you were falling in love with him. 

- The thought made you excited, and even more excited when your sister and brother-in-law supported your feelings, but for the sake of your family, you will reveal them gently. 

- You slowly opened up about your feelings to your new mother and father and since they did not hold any grudges or bad opinions about the sons of Feanor. They accepted it, having had a feeling who you have been seeing and how much happier you seemed to have gotten. 

- You then attended a party. You and your family were dressed for the occasion, and to your joy Maedhros was there. 

- People looked at you like you were a headless chicken when you approached him and Maedhros seemed stunned when he saw you, though not in a bad way, he looked at you and the dress you wore and called you beautiful. You shyly returned the compliment, telling how dashing he looked. 

- You explained your sister married one of the Vanyar, who was a noble house, and thus became part of their family. 

- You two mostly conversed the night on the side, and when it was time for a dance, Maedhros encouraged you to find someone else for a dance partner because he might pull bad attention on you.

- You told him you were a clumsy dancer and did not want to accidentally embarrass yourself by stepping on someone’s foot or making them fall though you would love to dance with someone. 

- Maedhros then seemed to have an idea and he led you outside, where you two slowly danced to the song. He helped you learn the steps, and that closeness made your face burn with shyness. You incidentally stepped a few times on his feet but he was patient. You had fun and you two even laughed about it.

- It was the first time you even heard him giggle out of the silliness of the whole situation. 

- At the end of the song or two, you then remembered and asked if he could meet you at the castle garden at the end of the party, wanting to tell him something in private. He agreed and you two momentarily returned to your families. 

- Your parents and sister were still dancing, so the only one you found was your brother-in-law’s younger brother. He was young and a bit rash, but you two were close. 

- You shared with him that you had been meeting someone and planned on confessing, and he seemed happy for you till he realized it was Maedhros you were talking about.

- He suddenly became upset and told you how you should not court someone like Maedhros. 

- He used to grow up hearing all the bad stories about Maedhros and his family, so you understood his rashness and tried to calm him down. You tried to explain that Maedhros had not done anything to make you like this, but then he mentions how Maedhros also used to be a thrall, thus he was not also evil but tainted by darkness. All thralls of Morgoth were tainted with evil and darkness. 

- You were stunned by his statement and told him you used to be a thrall of Morgoth too. 

- He became quiet by your confession. You were not angry with him but his words did cause pain in your heart since your sister had shared how you both used to be thralls in Middle Earth. 

- He started apologizing, but you assured him you were not angry but needed to be alone. 

- You do not know what happened after but you did hear your sister yell after you retreated into the garden since it was the end of the party. You tried to dry your tears while waiting for Maedhros, but they forcibly came out and you started sobbing, remembering painful memories of your time in Angband and the death of your parents. 

- Maedhros was startled when he found you like this and quickly questioned what had happened.

- You shared what happened with him and then told him the story of how you and your sister became thralls in Middle Earth. 

- When your home fell, you and your family were taken to Angband. Many bad things happened during your time there, including the death of your parents. Your sister was a child back then, and one day, you sacrificed your life so she could escape the iron hell.

- Your sister managed to escape, growing up alone and falling in love with a Vanyar elf when the host of the valar finally came to end Morgoth’s reign of terror. 

- However, the sorrowful part was that for most thralls who end up dying there, their souls would be trapped in the darkness or fade from existence. Your soul was lucky to escape the darkness and find its way to the halls of Mandos, but your parent's souls were not so lucky.

- Your younger brother's words brought back the memories and you felt hurt he thought all thralls were evil, even though you do not remember ever doing evil things when you were still alive. 

- You then apologized to Maedhros for not telling him. 

- Maedhros only shook his head and comforted you. His presence was enough to make you calm. You told him your brother got upset because you wanted to confess your feelings for him. 

- Maedhros was shocked until you explained that you accept him and his past and that you liked being with him. 

- Maedhros then told you he had already started falling for you when you accepted his brothers and how your gentle enthusiastic heart simply began pulling him toward you. He only held himself back because he believed you deserved someone, who did not possess such a tainted past as him. 

- The first age was long gone and his past as a thrall did not matter to you as you used to be one too. You would love to court him as long as he accepted your feelings. 

- He then gave you a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and told you he would guard your heart and joy till you did not want him anymore. 

- You became happy and confessed you did not believe there was ever going to be a time when you would not want him. 

- When he returned you home, you heard how upset your sister was after hearing what happened. Your little brother was ashamed after getting yelled at by her. You tried to assure them you were not angry and had already forgiven him, then Maedhros further dispelled the argument, asking their permission to court you. It was a surprise, but it seemed to have worked dispelling the violent atmosphere. 

- Your sister, brother, and parents admired Maedhros’s boldness and since they were aware of your feelings for him, they accepted. Your little brother seemed hesitant, but Maedhros seemed to have a way with words and even he relented and gave his blessing, also because he felt awful about the things he said. 

- Their acceptance made you really happy. 

- Later in the week, you finally gained the courage to show the sketches and paintings you made for him, and he admired them then teased you made him look way too pretty, which made you laugh. 

- Then during your first month of courtship, he introduced you to his mother, who was delighted to meet you. She teased Maedhros because apparently he talked a lot about you and was glad that he finally confessed.

- Maedhros still kinda wanted to keep you away from his brothers, but since Maglor and the twins already knew, he revealed he was now courting someone to his father and the rest of his brothers. 

- His father was happy for him and told him he was free to love anyone he wanted especially someone who bore him no ill will for what happened. Caranthir wanted to meet you since he was a bit skeptical but after meeting you, he was certain his brother would be fine. Celegorm was a bit bummed down that he was left in the dark and Curufin was upset when he found out you were the one who accidentally dumped paint on him during the hunting trip. 

- You apologized for it, and he then dared you to paint something good since he was not convinced about your artistic talents because of how clumsy and sometimes forgetful you were. 

- You accepted and with some tips from Maedhros and Celegorm, you managed to paint a painting that impressed Curufin. You were not certain what he thought of it after he received the painting, but Celegorm confirmed he liked it. 

-Your courtship was a joyful one, and after many months, Maedhros asked you to marry him and you accepted.

[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