#Vána Maiar

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

“Witches’ Circle”

Pairing: Varda & Yavanna & Vána & Arien & Urwendi

AU: Medieval Valinor AU

Themes: Soft | Good ending

Warnings: Blood rituals | Blood | Use of blades

Wordcount: 1.3k words

Summary: Varda and her handmaidens gather around the sacred trees to perform a ritual.

Minors DNI

A/N: For this AU, Urwendi is a separate character | Current list of the noble houses of Valinor can be found here.

Original image is from unsplash

Yavanna listened to a bell chiming in the distance as she followed the others down a path lined with gnarled oak trees and towering sentinels. Their leaves rustled like hushed whispers in the wind. It unnerved her a little. Nevertheless, she fought back her fears. It was not the night for such things.

“A quarter to the hour,” she said. “Then the witch’s hour itself will be at hand.”

“And on the day when the veil between this world and the next will be at its thinnest,” Varda supplied. She held a lit lamp in one hand, and a heavy velvet parcel in the other. A sheathed dagger adorned her silver girdle. It was fresh from the forge, but it would see much use later. “If we succeed, our gifts will increase tenfold.”

“Are you certain this is wise?” Vána asked. She glimpsed the mingling lights of the sacred trees and shivered. “The divine will bring much punishment upon our heads if we offend them.”

“Have faith, my friend,” Arien told her. “We will succeed this night.”

Yavanna’s sister was not so sure. They were mere novices compared to the one who led them, for they did not have Queen Melian to guide them in their craft. Nevertheless, she heeded her companion’s counsel and kept true to her faith. The gods would look upon them with kindly eyes, she told herself. There was nothing for her, or for any of them, to fear.

Varda strode ahead of the others, her gaze fixed intently on the silver and gold light spilling into the pre-dawn night. Her handmaidens followed in her footsteps. They each held aloft lanterns and offerings to the gods in the parcels they carried. A sense of foreboding came over them, as well as a sense of heady anticipation. None of them had partaken in such a ritual before, and Varda, having learned much at the feet of the fabled Witch Queen of Doriath, wished to teach them.

“We are here,” the heiress of Starfall declared when they reached the mighty roots of the sacred trees. She set her parcel down on soft, loamy earth. “Come, my friends. Let us put down our lamps and prepare ourselves.”

The others took their proper places and knelt beneath the canopies of two trees as ancient as the realm. Telperion effused light like liquid silver, and its flowers grew upon slender stems that swung together in the wind. Laurelin was all gold, its gilded flowers gathering in thick clusters that burned like flame. They were a gift from the gods, a source of all old magic. They were also a place for prayers to be offered and, sometimes, for prayers to be answered.

“The hour is almost upon us.” Urwendi, having perceived an otherworldly hush settling around the two trees, spread a beautifully embroidered mat of thick blue velvet between her and her companions. She placed her own parcel beside her. “Pray how do we begin?”

“We must set our offerings before us,” Varda began. “After, we must perform the sacrifice and open the witches’ circle.” She untied the ribbon around her parcel and revealed the contents it held within: a little lamp in the shape of a star, a delicate glass goblet, and a bottle of honeyed wine. “If the gods are pleased with us, we will know.”

The others did as she did. Each drew out their offerings from the bundles they brought with them. Yavanna’s was a slender glass chamber containing a rare blue rosebud she tended with her own hands, and her sister’s was a lilac nightingale in a silver cage. Arien produced a golden sun she forged herself, and Urwendi presented a yellow candle shaped like roaring flames. Then they watched Varda unstopper the bottle of wine and pour its contents into the goblet.

“We must now shed a portion of our life’s blood into the wine,” Varda instructed. She unsheathed her dagger and drew a thin line along the flat of her palm, taking care not to show fear or pain. When she held her hand over the goblet, deep crimson droplets trickled down her flesh and into the libation it held. “And then we place it with the other offerings. When the gods see such a willingness to suffer, they will surely listen.”

Her handmaidens followed her lead, accepting the proffered goblet and the proffered blade and spilling drops of their own blood into the wine.

“Rulers of the earth,” Varda said, closing her eyes and raising her arms to the heavens, “on this day, the most sacred of days, we beseech you for your favor. Givers of air and fire and water and spirit, Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, listen to us, your humble and faithful servants if it please you. Our gifts are mere trifles to the powers you all wield, yet we seek to wield them for a greater purpose. Grant us this boon so that all who may see them may bear witness to your own power and glory.”

“We are not alone,” Yavanna murmured, giving the goblet for Varda to take. She became all too aware of the unseen eyes that seemed to pierce into her very soul, and she dared not look back over her shoulder. She did not wish offend a being older than known time and bring about some dark and cruel punishment upon her person because of her impertinence.

“The circle is open,” Varda said, placing the goblet among the offerings. Her skin prickled as if someone, or something, was standing right beside her. “Let us now join hands, recite the incantation, and invite the gods to join us.”

“Rulers of the earth,” they began in unison after they all clasped hands, “givers of air and fire and water and spirit, we present these gifts to you. Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, we pray to you. We invoke you. We invite you. Come and join us, your humble servants. Come to us and show us your might and your glory.”

Thunder echoed throughout the vast gardens House Starfield claimed for itself, and lightning pierced the sky like a blinding white lance. The blue rosebud opened within its glass chamber, petal by flawless petal, and the nightingale sang a melody so sweet it would have moved the coldest of hearts to tears. The young maidens continued, undaunted by the wind that rose and crashed around them.

“We invoke you!” They cried and swayed hypnotically. The candle burst into flame, and the lamp filled with bright light. The golden sun began to sparkle and gleam with a light of its own. Telperion and Laurelin groaned as if they were alive. Their light pulsed and grew so bright it nearly blinded those gathered between them. “We invoke you! Bless us with your favor!”

The wind turned into a howling gale. Suddenly, lightning ripped through the air and struck the ground between the two trees with an almighty crack. The glass chamber shattered, and a fragrance sweeter than any perfume flowed freely into the world. The cage burst, and the nightingale flew into the night. Varda and her handmaidens collapsed to the earth, thrashing violently as trails of unknown power surged through their veins. Then, the world went dark, and the wind abruptly died.

Clarity came slowly. “Are you all well?” Varda called feebly and opened her eyes. She pushed herself to her knees and took a deep, steadying breath to compose herself. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We are well, my lady,” Yavanna returned. She gathered herself before she helped her sister. Then she looked at the others. Arien was brushing fallen leaves off Urwendi’s coppery hair. “Did we succeed? Were the gods pleased with us?”

Varda, still weakened by the ritual, crawled on her hands and knees to the center of the mat. She took in the rose, the broken and empty cage, the still-burning candle, and the gleaming sun. Then she peered into the goblet. During the tumult, it toppled over. And it was empty.

“We have indeed succeeded.” She smiled and held up her lamp. Its light brightened even more in her presence. “Now let us give thanks to the divine and close the circle, for it was through them that such a blessing was made possible.”

tags: @cilil

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

The Physicality of Sauron x Galadriel: Cosmic Connection and Physical Attraction

We already heard the expression “cosmical connection” a million times, and even I already discussed that in this post. Expressions like “higher beings” and such have been used by the actors and show producers to describe Sauron and Galadriel’s connection.

And, then, we have this iconic moment:

What does this “cosmic connection” means? Both Galadriel and Sauron/Mairon are immortal spirits. Mairon, as a Maia, is one of the Ainur, and one of the forces who first shaped the world, alongside the Valar (Ainulindalë or “Music of the Ainur”). He’s ancient, being around since the Days before Days (before the world was created).

Galadriel was born during the Years of the Trees, thousands of years later. And she’s of one the Children of Ilúvatar, an Elf. Her grandparents were among the first Elves created by Eru to live in Valinor.

What’s the difference?

Mairon belongs to the Unseen world, because he is, up and foremost, a spiritual being. And like all Maiar and Valar, he can choose his physical form (Halbrand, Annatar, etc.) in the Seen world. And he’s not bound to it, but these forms are all the same spirit. Hence the big focus on “Halbrand is Sauron” in Season 2, and even Charlie Vickers said many times in recent interviews how he wanted to show that continuity between both characters in his interpretation of Sauron in Season 2.

Galadriel belongs to the Seen world, and cannot chose her physical form. She’s bound to the one she was born with (in this sense, Elves are pretty much like Men, who are also Children of Ilúvatar). In the Third age, Galadriel can move between the Seen and Unseen world, but that’s not the case when she and Mairon first meet.

Let’s see what happens when Maiar and Elves fall in love:

Melian and Thingol

In the Valaquenta, we were introduced to some Maiar of interest. Melian was one of these. She’s a Maia to Vána (Vala of preserving youth and of fauna and flora on Middle-earth, also known as “Queen of Flowers”) and Estë (Vala of healing and purveyor or restful sleep). Melian dwells on the gardens of Lórien, and has a magical voice, great wisdom and was beloved by all. Birds, especially nightingales (her signature friends) surround her at all times. Around the time the Elves are created by Eru, she ventures across the Sundering Seas and arrives on Middle-earth.

Centuries later, the Teleri are the third or the Elf clans (alongside the Noldor and the Vanyar) to take the Great Journey, from Valinor to Middle-earth. Their leader, Elwë (Thingol) has the habit of wandering the woods by himself. One day, he ventures a forest called Nan Elmoth, in Beleriand. And there she meets Melian, and he was absolutely smitten.

“Enchantment” falls on him, and when he actually hears Melian’s voice, it’s all over. Her song fills “all his heart with wonder and desire.” And this is before he actually sees her: when he finally does set eyes on her, he’s at awe, because the “light of Aman” is reflected in her face.

Love overtakes Thingol, completely. He takes Melina’s hand, and “straightway a spell is laid on him.” Suddenly his plans (to reunite with his friend Finwë, to lead his people to Valinor, to dwell again in the light of the Two Trees) just disappear. He forgets everyone and everything. Thingol and Melian just stand there, looking at each others’ eyes, hands clasped, and perfectly still, for (according to some sources) 200 years. The trees grown tall around them. And no one knows Thingol is there, so his people search for him in Beleriand, in vain.

Since this event seem so over the top, many speculate that an actual spell, indeed, fall upon Thingol, even thought Tolkien gives no indication of him being “enslaved” or joining with Melian against his will. Anyway, one theory is that this meeting was orchestrated by Eru himself, because many key events happened because of it. Meaning, they were “doomed” to meet and fall in love:

Thingol and Melian will go on to establish the first of the organized Elven kingdoms of Middle-earth, in Beleriand, and rule it as Queen and King: Doriath (and their people are known as the “Sindar”);

They will have a child, described as “fairest of all the Children of Ilúvatar that ever was or shall ever be”: Lúthien, who would help in defeating both Morgoth and Sauron in the future.

In order to be with Thingol (= have sex with him), Melian retained her physical form, and became bound to it after conceiving a child with him. Meaning she couldn’t access the Unseen world, anymore (= return to her true spiritual form).

“Rings of Power” created a parallel of Thingol and Melian’s first meeting with Galadriel and Mairon, throughout Season 1:

Then an enchantment fell on him, and he stood still; and afar off beyond the voices of the lómelindi he heard the voice of Melian, and it filled all his heart with wonder and desire.

He forgot then utterly all his people and all the purposes of his mind, and following [the sound] and was lost

But he came at last to a glade open to the stars, and there Melian stood; and out of the darkness he looked at her, and the light of Aman was in her face. She spoke no word;

[…] but being filled with love Elwë came to her and took her hand,

[…] and straightway a spell was laid on him so that they stood.

[…] thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; [not only are they outside, but Galadriel armor has a star sigil – and, no, this is not Fëanor’s sigil, it’s a different design] 

[...]; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word

Like Thingol and Melian, there is no need for words between them. They look into each others’ eyes and feel it (“I’ve felt it too”). This makes it hard for the audience to understand what is happening between them, but it is what it is.

However, I think this was *the moment* when they truly saw the extent of their mutual feelings for each other; when their souls are merging due to being bound together (via Morgoth’s crown). Which explains their reactions here: Galadriel is shocked, and Mairon is in happy disbelief. “Wait- you’re actually in love with me?”

Galadriel thinks Sauron is evil incarnate, she’s not shocked because he stabbed her, come on.

Which, again, explains this expression over here. This is pure joy, and he has tears on his eyes: Mairon believes that Galadriel is about to join him, and they are going to run into Mordor the sunset together.

Cosmic connection and Physical attraction

Galadriel belongs to the Seen world, the same as Thingol. But their Maiar pair, Melian and Mairon, are from the Unseen world. Meaning: are these connections only spiritual (“cosmically”) or they have a physical component (“lust”), too?

We know that Thingol and Melian went physical with theirs, because they had a child together. Since Thingol is from the Seen world (and cannot access the Unseen world) he’s both a physical and spiritual being (Elf) but he’s only spiritual after the death of his physical body. The same with Galadriel.

Both Maiar and Valar are capable of feeling love and lust in Tolkien lore. We see this not only with Melian, but with all Valar couples. We also see Melkor/Morgoth lusting after Lúthien when he saw her dancing for him (this implies a very physical sentiment).

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought. Lúthien dances for Morgoth on his Dark Throne [before she puts him and all the host of Angband to sleep with her magic singing]

In other works describing this episode, Tolkien goes on using words like “lust”, “hunger”, “blinding thrist”, “pleasure”, and stressing the importance of Morgoth trying to reach out for Lúthien with his hand (= he wants to touch her). Meaning, there is a real physical element at play here (even if it’s evil and diabolical).

Mairon himself got pretty “touchy” with Galadriel back in Season 1. This is not random, and this implies the connection between them was not only “cosmical”; Mairon, a spiritual being, wanted to touch Galadriel, meaning, there was as a physical element/attraction there, too.

We also saw this with Mirdania in Season 2, the she-elf of Eregion who reminded him of Galadriel, and was used as a plot device for the audience to see that Galadriel is always on Mairon’s mind.

Meaning: yes, Mairon wants to “shake the sheets” (or the table forge) with Galadriel. It’s not only “cosmical” or “spiritual”. He desires her, on a physical level, too.

Mairon, the Maia of Aulë

To understand the physical attraction, we need to go back to the beginning of Mairon himself.

Mairon was created by Eru as a Maia of Aulë, the Vala of smithing and handiwork. He was among the most powerful Maiar, and the purest one, too. Eru created him to be good and loyal, but also to love several things: crafting and creation (smithing), beauty, order and perfection, and to dislike wastefulness. These were, most likely, Mairon’s contributions to shape the world in the Ainulindalë.

Melkor/Morgoth used Mairon’s love of order and perfection to corrupt him, and turned it into an obsession with domination and control. Morgoth corrupted his goodness and loyalty into evil and treachery (turning him into “the great deceiver”). His love of beauty corrupted into ugliness, by the breeding of the Orcs. Mairon’s greatest virtues became his downfall.

And who better embodies the qualities of “beauty” and “perfection” than Galadriel herself? Her beauty is the stuff of legends, and everyone is at awe when they first meet her. Her very gold/silver hair inspired the most legendary jewels in existence: the Silmarils. The light of the Two Trees of Valinor shine on her hair and eyes.

We also see Galadriel connected with “smithing”: she’s the object of the love and lust of the two legendary Elven smiths: Fëanor and Celebrimbor (Brimby in Tolkien lore, not in “Rings of Power”). Fëanor was inspired by how the light caught her hair to create the Silmarils; and he asked her for a few strands of hair, three times, and three times she denied him. In the Third age, Galadriel would gift strands of her hair to Gimli, a Dwarf, a Child of Aulë (the Dwarves were created by Aulë himself; another connection to smithing and to Mairon’s original Vala).

Yes, "Rings of Power" really went there. All the paralells.

Galadriel is also connected with power, something Mairon liked from the beginning, too (which caused Melkor to target him and get him to his side). She's not only power-hungry, but she's powerful, herself, and will only grow in power as the years go by. She's a natural leader, proud and rebellious; she was born to rule (literally, because her father was High King of the Noldor in Valinor, she’s an actual princess).

Just like Thingol and Melian!

Galadriel was also a pupil of Aulë and his wife Yavanna, back in Valinor. Which means, that if Mairon wasn’t corrupted by Morgoth/Melkor and he didn’t betray the Valar, they would have met, then. And what would have happened? Galadriel would never marry Celeborn, in the first place, that’s for sure (they met on Middle-earth, not in Valinor). And if sparkles happened in Middle-earth, in the most antagonist of scenarios (with Mairon already corrupted), OG Mairon and Artanis (Galadriel’s original name) meeting would set Aulë’s forge on fire. Artanis would have the most enviable jewelry collection in all of Arda. Because Mairon would gift her and worship her, nonstop: I will place crown(s) upon your head. I will never rest until all Arda had been brought to its knees, to worship the light of its Queen.

The “what ifs” don’t stop here. Because Artanis and Mairon power couple would parallel Yavanna and Aulë, too. Yavanna, Aulë’s wife and queen, “Queen of the Earth”, physical form is described: “in the form of a woman she is tall, and robed in green (…) crowned with the Sun; and from all its branches there spilled a golden dew upon the earth.”

Wild how “Rings of Power” already went there. Several times:

In fact, the first regal outfit we see Galadriel wear in "Rings of Power" is a teal (greenish-blue) cape and a gold dress. And she's wearing a gold flower crown. All hail, Queen Artanis, stronger than the foundations of the earth? Interesting choice of words, because Aulë created the "foundations of the earth" (= mountains).

In 2x02, we see Galadriel planting flowers, while wearing green and with a gold leaf crown on her head (as she was meant to be):

How could Mairon not love her? That’s the real question. Galadriel is the materialization, the physical form, of everything he was designed to love. And she can’t change her physical form, mind you. She belongs to the Seen world.

And this was probably the reason why Eru brought them together, in the first place: for Mairon to recall his original purpose. And probably to rub on his face what he lost for being a evil b*tch and side with Melkor. Galadriel is already bound to another (Celeborn) in the eyes of the Valar and the Eldar. The only way to “undone” that is for the Valar themselves to give permission.

[corsairspade]

Celegorm but everything about him is 10x funnier because he's a chronic ainur fucker and just doesn't tell anyone about it. He looks inwards and decides marriage is between elves so deciding to roll around with maiar of the hunt is absolutely valid and not marriage. Who's ever heard of an elf marrying a Maia?

Elven polyamory may be illegal but it doesn't count if he's just ferrying kisses between Oromë and Vána- they're not elves. No, it's not hypocritical, what are you talking about. Just don't tell his father. What? No, not because of the whole polyamory thing, Feanor's just got a thing about Valar. Yes Celegorm is sure that's the only reason he doesn't want to tell his dad.

[cilil]

Crossroads of the Fallen King: The Sundelions of Arien

❁ Verse: Silmarillion x Legend of Zelda Totk/BotW ❁ Pairing: Mairon x Arien ❁ Synopsis: Mairon has a favour to ask of his former lover. ❁ Warnings: / ❁ Oneshot (~1.4k) | SWG

AN: Here's my contribution to the Crossroads of the Fallen King challenge! This oneshot takes place in my TotK/BotW AU and deals with the Sundelions, Arien as their caretaker and the key role they play in healing wounds dealt by Void creatures like Ungoliant and her spiders. For a more detailed explanation, see the end notes down below.

"Arien."

The sound of Mairon's voice is pleasant as always, and she listens before she knows it, ignoring the dread and anger welling up within her chest. Many times has Arien imagined what it will be like when he finally  decides to show his face again, how she will confront him for his betrayal, how she will be wiser and not let him fool her ever again. 

She doesn't have to look at him. She knows he's standing there, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't broken her heart. 

And she knows that these days he only comes to see her if he wants something. 

Arien has no patience for it. 

"What do you want?" she asks as coldly as she can and refuses to face him. Stubbornly, she keeps her gaze on the black and golden flowers she's tending to for her lady, the miraculous Sundelions that can produce the only known cure to the Void's Gloom; and suddenly she has an idea why her former lover chose to appear in a domain where he's not welcome. 

The fact that Mairon was able to reach her without being seen or detected worries her, though less for her sake and more for the Maiar of Vána and Yavanna who cannot match his fell fire. 

He has taken a step closer, and Arien feels an uncomfortable heat surging through her veins. Is it his gaze on her that she feels, she wonders, or is he already looking at his prize. 

She caresses the Sundelions' fragile petals as if in reassurance, and she knows his eyes follow her movements. 

"Look at me." 

Mairon's request, uttered softly and without the edge of command that so often accompanies his speech, startles Arien so much that she does. She sees the same face she knew many years ago, yet marred by a blackened wound across his left cheek, as if struck by a poisoned blade. Similar wounds are on his neck, chest, arms and hands, and pity overcomes her before she knows it. 

"What happened to you?" she gasps and rushes to his side. "Did the Dark One...?" 

For a moment Arien hopes that he will answer yes. If it was Melkor who hurt him, maybe he would finally see the error of his ways and come back to her. But as quickly as that thought has crossed her mind, she begins to abhor it. She knows well how dangerous the Dark Vala can be and doesn't want her fiery kin, fallen as they all may be, to face the wrath of his freezing storm. 

"No. I was hurt while fighting monsters from the Void; with his help, if I may add," Mairon says, holding up his hands and looking at his damaged palms. 

Arien takes his hands into hers. He remains eerily calm and composed, and the lack of any wincing or flinching makes her hope he isn't in too much pain. 

"Are you sure this is what happened?" she asks gently. "Are you sure you are not blaming something else to cover for him?" 

"He hasn't hurt me and would never do so. It is as I said." 

There is no anger in Mairon's voice, but his tone is firm. Arien isn't sure if she should admire his conviction or think him a fool for trusting and defending Melkor. 

And even if he didn't hurt him himself, he let him get hurt, she thinks, nodding to herself as if to reassure her conscience that the Dark Vala is indeed to blame for this mishap as well. 

Gingerly, she examines his wounds and finds that Mairon hasn't lied to her. Injuries from Void creatures have unfortunately become more common in recent times, prompting her lady Estë to instruct her Maiar accordingly and request a steady supply of Sundelions. The pervasive decay infesting their once thought unbreakable weapons must cause him as much ire and stress as his former lord Aulë, she muses. 

"You want me to heal you," she says. It's not a question; she is certain that she knows the reason for his visit now. At least he was wise enough to come alone and not bring his miserable master with him. 

"Ah, you don't have to." Mairon looks up at her, an amicable smile on his lips. "A few of these lovely flowers would already suffice. I can handle the rest myself; after all it would be rude of me to ask for too much from you." 

His words seem fair, his voice is smooth. It's all so perfectly easy and reasonable that Arien pauses, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Why would he not take the freely given help of a Maia serving both Vána and Estë, he who has never been a healer. 

Unless... There is a reason why he wants to take the flowers himself. 

"Is your lord hurt as well?" Arien asks sharply. 

There is a flash of something unreadable in Mairon's eyes, gone before she can see it for what it is. 

"Of course not, why do you ask?" He laughs lightly. Too calm, too serene. It doesn't ease Arien's worries in the slightest. "You would not feel very inclined to help him if it were the case, no?"

"Are you lying to me because it is in fact the case and you want to use my compassion for you to take my flowers so you can help him?" 

At last mild annoyance clouds Mairon's fair features, and the ancient familiarity of seeing him thus makes it strangely comforting. Endearing even. Yet Arien keeps her guard up while trying to glimpse past his. 

"You have seen for yourself that I am wounded as I told you," he says. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards again as if to regain his smile, but it's more akin to a haughty smirk this time. 

Arien finds a strange sort of pleasure in breaking through Mairon's barriers and ripping off his carefully crafted masks, even if what she finds is less fair than the faces she remembers. 

"It is not like I fail to understand the thought," he continues, "deny me in order to deny Melkor, just in case. That is certainly something he would think to do to spite former lovers as well." 

Her own control slips, her hands sizzling against his as her fána heats up. To imply that she would stoop to Melkor's level — and yet, even though Arien knows full well the intent behind such a well-placed comment, she cannot deny that Mairon has a point. 

"We wouldn't have that problem if you just agreed to let me heal you instead," she snaps. 

"Perhaps, though I did tell you why I didn't feel it was appropriate of me to ask for that." Mairon has regained his calm, controlled composure with infuriating professionalism. 

It's not the first time that Arien has wondered if speaking to her is some sort of task or game for him that he completes with the same excellence as his other work. 

"You are going to come with me," she orders, still fuming. "We will go to my house and I will heal you properly and you will stay as long as it takes."

"If that is your wish, I shall." 

Mairon's smile is as bright as Arien's fury. She lets go of his hands and links their arms; he knows the way to her house, yet she feels the need to hold on to him lest he slip away too soon. At least his wounds will make him stay with her for a while, even if his powers and strange new magic seems to be mostly unscathed and only his fána is damaged. 

There is a strange sort of triumph in taking her wayward former lover home. She even begins to enjoy herself once she takes a few Sundelions to brew a healing potion, applying it to every inch of blackened skin and adding a few spoons to a bowl of hot soup that she feeds him. 

Thus absorbed in this brief moment of reconciliation with the Maia she once wished to spend eternity with, Arien remains blissfully unaware of the shadow that comes over her meadows at night, cruelly rips out a handful of her beloved flowers and disappears with his prey. 

End notes: In Zelda TotK, Sundelions are a plant ingredient used to cook healing items that can restore damaged caused by Gloom, an evil and harmful substance that essentially drains the life of its victims. It causes decay in weapons and permanently reduces Link's health, making him unable to heal himself fully until he can get rid of the Gloom damage. I felt like Void and Void creatures like Ungoliant would be an excellent fit for Gloom and Gloom-affected monsters, as well as Arien as a servant of Vána and Estë growing and maintaining Sundelions.

Thanks for reading! ♡

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[annabawritersdream]

Maiar in 'The Lady of Ithilien'

(to be updated with new information as the story progresses. As such, things may change)

Eönwë

Herald and banner-bearer of Manwë, the High King of Arda. He's among the most powerful Maiar in Valinor and the mightiest in arms. Military leader and High Commander of the Host of the Valar, he was one of the key fighters during the War of Wrath, which marked the end of the First Age of the Sun.

Birth: he entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Married to Elenna of the House of Húrin.

Fancast: Daniel Sharman

Ilmarë

Eönwë's younger sister and handmaiden of Varda, Queen of the Valar and Manwë's wife. Along with her brother, she's one of the chiefs of the Maiar.

Birth: she entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Eventually married to Eldarion, Crown Prince of Gondor and Arnor.

Fancast: Matilda Lutz

Olórin

Also known as Gandalf (one of his many aliases), he has served several Valar throughout the various ages of Arda. He's mainly associated with Manwë and Varda, but he also served Nienna, Valië of sorrow and compassion and Irmo, Vala of dreams and visions. (Olórin is a Quenya name and its meaning is something along the lines of "dream of mind")

Birth: he entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Fancast: Sir Ian McKellen (as Gandalf during the War of the Ring. He sticks to this form for a little while longer before switching back to his usual one); Bradley James (as Olórin)

(they give the same vibe tbh)

Wilwarin

Maia serving Irmo and occasionally Nienna. She's had a major crush on Olórin ever since she met him. She's not the sharpest tool in the box (sorry girl, I still love you), but she's kind-hearted and keeps to herself because no one wants to befriend her due to her perceived stupidity. SHE NEEDS LOVE AND AFFECTION, which no one has ever given her because most Maiar are stuck up and arrogant. Extremely naïve and completely clueless at times, she's been nicknamed "Wilya" (meaning airhead) by her fellow Maiar. She's obsessed with Olórin because he's the only one who's ever actually interacted with her.

Birth: She entered Arda at the beginning of the Second Age of the Sun, following the War of Wrath.

Fancast: Tuğba Melis Türk

Isilmë

Maia of Vayanna. Considered among the most beautiful Maiarin women to ever enter Arda, she has been obsessed with Eönwë ever since she first saw him. They had a brief fling following the War of Wrath, which, needless to say, ended very quickly (and badly). She's firmly convinced he's still in love with her and will do anything to get him back. Her name is Quenya for "moonlight".

Birth: she entered Arda following the War of Wrath (around the same time as Wilwarin)

Fancast: Beste Kökdemir

Isilya

Maia of Yavanna. She's Isilmë's close friend (or so she believes). She fails to realize Isilmë doesn't really love her or value their friendship, but simply uses her for her own purposes. She blindly follows her "friend" and indistinctly agrees with everything the latter says or does, as she's been brainwashed into thinking she's perfect. She doesn't seem to have a mind of her own, modeling her own behavior after Isilmë, as she's afraid to lose the connection they share. She's petty and very annoying, but not inherently evil and might even redeem herself eventually. Who knows. Her name is Quenya for "the third day of the week" according to the Númenórean calendar.

(It might sound odd, but I picked the name purely because it sounds similar to Isilmë and because I like the sound of it, not necessarily because I had a specific idea. I'm terrible at naming characters, I know. Please don't be mean)

Birth: she entered Arda following the War of Wrath.

Fancast: Dilara Aksüyek

Elenna's household

Four Maiarin ladies enter her service after her marriage to the Herald.

Handalimë

Originally a Maia of Vána, she is thoughtful, level-headed, smart and highly practical. Elenna is entrusted to her and she quickly grows fond of her new lady, becoming one of her most trusted servants and her main confidante. She's usually calm and collected and makes it her mission to protect her lady from anyone who might wish her harm—namely her sister Isilmë and a few of the Noldorin elves— and constantly worries about her. Her lady's well-being is her utmost priority.

Birth: she entered Arda sometime before the end of the First Age.

Fancast: Gülcan Arslan

Naráel

A Maia of Aulë, she's spunky and crafty but also naive and shy. She loves making rings and necklaces and will be gifting many jewels to her new lady. She can often be found chatting with Gimli, as she's never seen a dwarf before and wants to know all about dwarf customs and traditions (for fairly obvious reasons, I'd say). Kind-hearted and wiser than she lets on, she loves sitting by fireplaces (and lighting them).

Birth: she entered Arda at the beginning of the Third Age.

Fancast: Sophie Turner

Aranwen

A Maia of Nessa, she loves dancing, nature and poetry. She's not a great conversationalist, but when she does speak, one had better stop and listen. She loves reading and will spend many hours discussing books and history with her lady. She enjoys needlework and she's quite a good painter as well. She respects Elena greatly and often reassures her. Even though they get on each other's nerves quite often, she's great friends with Naráel. She too will spend a bit of time with Gimli, but only to try and convince him that ripping down trees is inherently bad. Nevertheless, she grows fond of the lord of the Glittering Caves- she and Legolas will try and teach him how to dance. Whether they will succeed is still unknown.

Birth: she entered Arda at the beginning of the Third Age.

Fancast: Rose Williams

Elenya

Maia of Varda (the name is kind of a giveaway).

She's sweet, kind and very protective of Elenna. She often likes to remark how similar their names are and loves to recount stories that most have forgotten (star-related, of course). She was lady-in-waiting to Ilmarë before she volunteered to join Elenna's household.

Birth: she entered Arda during the Years of the Trees.

Fancast: Yasemin Allen

[valardynasty]

Histoire de la Maïa Melian, reine de Doriath.

Maïa Melian

"Melian était la Maïa de Vána et Estë. On disait qu'elle ressemblait beaucoup à la Vala Yavanna. De Melian on dit qu'elle a appris aux rossignols à chanter et que leur musique suivait son rythme. À Valinor, elle habitait dans les jardins de Lórien, s'occupant de ses arbres, et elle était la plus belle, la plus sage et la plus habile en chants d'enchantement de tous les habitants de Lorien. Elle voyageait souvent vers la Terre du Milieu car elle aimait les ombres profondes des arbres et des forêts."

"Au moment de l'éveil des elfes, Melian quitta Valinor. Après qu'Oromë ait trouvé les Elfes à Cuiviénen, les Valar prévoyaient de faire la guerre à Melkor et pendant leurs préparatifs, ils envoyèrent Melian à Cuiviénen, pour veiller sur les elfes. Lorsque les Eldar marchèrent vers Valinor, dans les bois de Nan Elmoth, Melian tomba sur Elwë Singollo du peuple des Teleri. Elwë fut fascinée et s'évanouit à la vue de Maia Melian, et tous deux se tenaient main dans la main, incapables de bouger ou de parler pendant des années pendant que les arbres poussaient autour d'eux. En raison de son absence, une partie de ses partisans resta à sa recherche, tandis que le reste continua sa route vers Valinor sous la royauté d'Olwë, frère d'Elwë qui fut nommé Elu Thingol."

"Melian et Thingol récupérèrent et rassemblèrent les Elfes restés sur place pour chercher Elwë. Ils fondèrent le royaume d'Eglador et régnèrent en tant que roi et reine de tous les elfes du Beleriand. Melian était la seule Ainu connue à s'être associée à l'un des enfants d'Ilúvatar, et elle engendra ainsi un enfant, la fille nommée Lúthien, qui était la plus belle des enfants à avoir jamais vécu. Elle épousa l'Homme Beren Erchamion et, par conséquent, le sang des Maiar de Melian fut transmis à la fois aux Elfes et aux Hommes."

Création par Intelligence Artificielle. Source

[urwendii]

Arien Headcanons

you know what i rave about her all the time here or over discord but ive never done this and it must be fixed.

- Arien was the 2nd fire spirit of the Maiar to be made.

- She is one of the Higher Maiar - one of the 6 most powerful of the Maiar order ( Mairon, Eönwë, Ossë, Arien, Ilmarë, Melian)

- During the Discord while Melkor was rallying fire spirits to his cause (after taking note on how powerful they were) he noticed Arien but she turned him off. (vibe check came back wrong).

- Despite popular belief she is a Celestial Maia, initially a Maia of Varda but was loaned to the service of Vána due to her affinity with nurturing the golden flowers of the Valië. Later in Valinor she officially entered her service when she was the only Maia with a close affinity with Laurelin whose blazing light did not bother her.

- She was one of the most enthusiast Ainu to bring the Quendi to Valinor. Something that later tasted like cruel irony when she realised her own light was too much for them to be in her company for too long (+ the accidental retinal damages). Due to this she felt isolated and tried to dim herself, to no avail.

- Before her departure to Endórë, Melian and her were great friends. Arien slightly resented her for staying in Middle-Earth, not understanding Melian's choice.

- Despite being kind and cheerful, Arien - as any fire spirits - has a temper you should not try to ignite (rip Melkor's epidermal<- he deserves it). She is also quite stubborn and independent.

- She had a close friendship with Mairon as one of the only fire spirits that understand her, and was heartbroken when his allegiances changed.

- She is the one who nurtured and grew the last fruit of Laurelin after its discovery.

- From her solar position she actually can look into the Void. Both her and Eärendil will be the first aware when Melkor will finally break the Doors of the Night.

- She is well aware of Tilion's feelings for her but does not reciprocate outside of friendship.

- no she doesn't have the same red hair as Mairon, actually hers is strawberry blonde thank you very much.

- in a polyamorous relationship with Mairon & Eönwë.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Can I get a platonic Eonwe x adopted girl child apprentice reader, where the child asks him a complicated question like " why can't elves men and dwarves all get along and be friends instead of living separately" being a Maiar, he is supposed to be wiser than most elves and others, but even then, there are some questions that are too complicated, and he has to explain how things aren't that simple.

EÖNWË WITH AN ADOPTED CHILD:

featuring eöwnë and adopted female child

fandom tolkien — the silmarillion

Eönwë had known the hardship of taking care of children - he had watched many children bearing and struggling with them. Manwë had even warned him.

But when he met you - the little girl mesmerized by his wings and pulling at it - he felt a sudden urge to protect you and keep you away from all harm, to wrap his wings around you and carry you away from the place that gave you no home.

He took care of you and loved you as his own - knowing very well this is what he wanted.

Eönwë didn’t care for you bundles of energy - or excitement to learn anything and everything. In fact, he encouraged it.

Eönwë knew children weren’t an easy job - to be honest he would definitely say being the herald was much easier than being a father to a child.

Eönwë prepared himself for everything - the laughs, the crying, the screaming and the whining - but the end of the day when he returns to see your wide sparkling eyes and smile with small arms that wrap tightly with all your might around his neck calling him ‘atya’ is when he knows he always did the right thing.

The herald loved being home to his little chick that was determined to get his attention on every little thing they found interesting - he loves when you come climb onto his lap and talk animatedly about your day.

But what he didn’t prepare himself for were the boundless questions of why. . . 

“Why can't elves, men and dwarves all get along and be friends instead of living separately?”

You suddenly asked one day as he explained to you about Middle Earth.

Eönwë looked at you shocked - then blinked, stammering for answer.

 He scratched the back of his neck - his eyes moving around the room trying to think of something to explain to you as you waited extra patiently for an answer.

The as if Manwë somehow had his back - or perhaps it was Queen Yavanna or her sister Queen Vána - but anyways his eyes landed on the slowly blooming flower nearby the windows

Eönwë softly hummed - then stood from his sitting position on the ground and sat on the chair.

He gently scooped you into his arms and placed you on his lap.

“You see that pretty flower?”

He asked - pointing to it after you settled on his lap.

Eönwë smiled as you nodded your head enthusiastically.

“Well we know flowers like spring, don’t we?”

Again you nodded your head.

“But did you know some flowers like winter too?”

You frowned.

“But won’t they die?

You asked - rather sad.

Eönwë quickly shook his head.

“No, some flowers like snowdrops love the cold. . .while some do not and love to grow in spring or summer.”

He explained carefully.

“Like flowers - we are all different, little one. We do not tend to like the same things - and sometimes there is nothing wrong with that. If we all liked the same things the world would be too boring.”

He tickled you - making you erupt into giggles.

“But even though we are different - in some way we get along. Like seasons give space to one another, comes and goes - the men, elves and dwarves tend to do the same. There are some harsh winters, but still they help to make sure the flower blooming spring can break through the icy winters and live. . .”

Eönwë sighed for a second.

“While it would be better for all of us to get alone, little one - it does take time, like the seasons take time. . .we must wait, especially when they are all so stubborn!”

He rolled his eyes, making you laugh again.

“One day, little one. . . One day all will be well.”

He said – stroking your hair. 

Eönwë prayed it will be because he wanted a better world for you. . .

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

Ainur taglist: @cilil

[anerea-lantiria]

Five Wizards :|: Istarlindalë

My second art for @tolkienrsb was claimed by the lyrical @lferion, who's created a poetic exploration of the five Maiar who became the Istari, covering everything from their origins in the Great Music to their involvement in all the major events from the First Age to the end of the Third Age and beyond!

Istari is Quenya meaning "those who know" and lindalë means "music", thus Istarlindalë is the "Song of the Wise", their story:

"... A quintet they were now, five Thoughts become (and becoming, growing, changing, living) individuals, single selves, though they clung still each to the others.

"It was then that individuals began to realize their names, while also feeling drawn to one or the other of the Valar. Maiar were not then meant to be wholly separate; distinct, yes, discrete, not as such. Neither separated from the Valar nor from their harmonic fellows. And thus it was that the quintet became five separate selves, no longer intermingled, though still in harmony, in friendship and alliance and hope with each other. "Fiery-red Curumo was Aulë's by choice and affinity; brown Aiwendil naturally went with Yavanna, though Vána and Estë loved him as well; Alatar and Pallando blue-green, blue-violet, sea-blue and lake-blue and the white-blue of rushing water were drawn to Ulmo, to Varda, to Oromë, returning always to Ulmo after each venture, and mist-grey, silver-granite-cloud-grey Olórin served and learned and grew with Manwë and Lorien and Nienna in turn. "And due to their inquiring spirits and breadth of knowledge, their willingness to both question and learn (sometimes to the exasperation of those they would learn from, for they were to a one persistent and filled with curiosity), to listen more than they spoke, they came to be known as The Knowledgeable Ones, the Istari as the Elves would later have it."

From Istarlindalë by Lferion, coming soon.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #24: LotR, but make it half-Maia!Legolas

I honestly thought I was done with Legolas headcanons, but then this one hit me over the head: what if Legolas’ mother was a Maia?

Bear with me:

We are given little-to-no information about Legolas’ background in canon. The only thing we know for sure is that his father, Thranduil, was originally from Doriath and has been ruling Mirkwood since his own father, Oropher, died of his own poor tactical thinking in the War of the Last Alliance.

But what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because no one in Middle Earth has any idea either?

Just imagine it:

After the War of Wrath, Oropher led his people into the Greenwood and established himself as king over the local population. However this came about, "The few Sindar who had come with him were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their customs and language and taking names of Silvan form and style. Oropher and his household wished to return to a simple existence natural to the Elves before they had been disturbed by the Valar" [x].

I'm not quite sure what Silvan elves got up to before Greenwood became Mirkwood, but I imagine it involved a lot of frolicking and hunting in the woods, and generally living up to the stereotype forest-dwelling immortal spirits at one with nature. And Thranduil, being the prince of this realm, would be naturally be the best of them all.

I imagine this catches the eye of one of the more minor Maiar sometime in the Second Age - a hunter in Oromë's retinue, most likely, but someone in Vána's retinue could possibly work too.

Thranduil strikes up a relationship with this Maia whenever she passes through, because unlike Melian a hunter of Oromë wouldn't be content to stay in one bounded woods when there are things to hunt across Arda and Aman. It is the epitome of a long-distance relationship.

Key to all of this is that Thranduil never tells anyone her identity. Oh, he very obviously is in a relationship and will disappear for weeks at a time throughout the Second Age to be with his wife, but no one ever meets her - or, as they assume she's just some Silvan elf with no interest in being princess or queen, admits to being her.

Thranduil goes off with his father to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. Unlike his father, he lives and returns to the Greenwood as king of his people.

Shortly after he returns, his Maiar wife presents him with baby!Legolas to raise and rejoins Oromë's hunt. Depending on his actual age when given to Thranduil, Legolas may even have some youthful memories of hunts he spent on the back of his mother's horse and/or of hunts in Aman.

Their relationship continues much as before, and though she makes the effort to be more present for Legolas' benefit it's dealer's choice whether she's successful at it. Maybe as a Maia of the hunt she's not good with children and is able to salvage her relationship with her son when he gets old enough to spend all his days hunting too; maybe she's a really good mother despite her frequent absences and the family dynamics just work for everyone. Who knows?

Legolas' mother is only a minor Maia, and so he's not quite as extra as Lúthien. He's noted for being the best hunter of his age - but most assume that's down to genetics, because of his father's legendary skill, and because of a lifetime of practice, because Mirkwood is Mirkwood.

And, honestly, a Mirkwood filled with spiders to hunt is probably all a half-Maia elf could ever want, particularly when their Maia parent is a huntress of Oromë.

The events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings go as in canon, with the exception of Galadriel saying that she cannot give Legolas a better bow than his mother made for him, and so granting him a different gift. This prompts several questions about Legolas' mother, particularly when Aragorn admits that not even Elrond knows her identity.

The hobbits responsible for The Red Book of Westmarch never learn the truth.

But, as I'm an inveterate Legolas/Gimli stan, Legolas admits the truth to Gimli sometime after that relationship forms - maybe Legolas' mother shows up at some point while they're in Ithilien to check up on her son after the war ends and the truth comes out; maybe it comes out when Legolas is trying to reassure Gimli theirs wouldn't be the most unusual marriage in the family - but no one else ever learns the truth.

It's Legolas' Maia heritage that allows Gimli to sail with him to Aman - either his mother requests it as a boon from the Valar for her son, or something about his ancestry allows him to grant others access.

Bonuses include: 1) Everything that might point to Legolas' Maia heritage is written off as elfish weirdness by non-elves, Silvan weirdness by non-Silvan elves, and Sinda weirdness by Silvan elves; 2) Despite all this, Legolas talks about his mother a lot and so by the breaking of the Fellowship everyone has this idea that his mother is the Greatest Hunter Ever To Live; and 3) the question of just who Thranduil is married to being a big source of betting and speculation for elves, and all the elves the Fellowship encounters try to use them to get the inside track.

And that's it. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Abominations of the flesh

Day 5 Prompt: New companions

For: @feast-of-horns | Requested by MoonLord

Rating: E

Pairing: Celegorm/Curufin/Turgon/Finrod

Themes: NSFW | NSFT

Warnings: Kissing | Incest | Celegorm and Curufin are up to no good

Wordcount: 3.2k words

Summary: Celegorm and Curufin are convinced there is something more than friendship between Turgon and Finrod. Turgon and Finrod think otherwise. Their cousins are determined to show them there is more to their bond than they think.

Minors DNI | 18+

A/n: A big thank you to @cilil and @urwendii for their help with Turgon's pre-Alqualondë personality and the idea that inspired this fic.

This is also available on AO3

The feast was a riotous affair. Many ate and drank their fill. A few ate and drank more than they ought to. Some sang bawdy airs. Others laughed. Many and more prepared themselves for the chase that was to follow. Turukáno was scandalized as he observed everything taking place around him. 

“Do all of the Valar conduct themselves in such a debauched manner during these feasts?” He whispered to his cousin in disbelief. 

“Not just the Valar, cousin.” Findaráto was as taken aback as he was, but his curiosity remained undiminished. “The Maiar and their attendants, and even our fellow elves.” 

Turukáno, his cheeks aflame, touched the crown sitting amidst his hair. Gold horns inlaid with brilliant white enamel gleamed as they rose from a thin gold band full of diamonds. A hunter’s crown, it was, and it was only proper, the others had said, for a high prince of the Noldor to take on the role of a hunter. 

I should not have agreed to this, he thought when he found himself yearning for the comfort of Tirion’s great library and the fragrance from its many tomes and stone tablets. I do not belong here. I should have remained in Tirion.  

He glanced at the others. His sister, Írissë, stayed close to the Great Huntsman and his lady, whispering. Oromë was in a high mood, as was Lady Vána. The Ever-Young was particularly taken with his sister, and on more than one occasion, she uttered something that made Írissë laugh.

“My sister is by herself,” he said, and he drained the last of his wine. “I must see to her.” 

When he tried to rise, Findaráto grabbed his arm by the wrist. “Leave your sister be.” 

“I must tend to her.” 

“Chicks and elflings need tending, cousin. Your sister, on the other hand, does not. Leave Írri be. You will only draw unwelcome attention to yourself and to me if you do not.” 

Turukáno scoffed softly, but he heeded his cousin all the same. He made himself comfortable in his seat and called for more wine. Someone laughed. It was thunderous and carefree at the same time. That laugh came from none other than Tyelkormo. Turukáno dared to look his way. His uncle Fëanáro’s sons were seated at the same table, though not all of them lingered after their plates and goblets were taken away. Nelyafinwë rose to speak with Findekáno, and Makalaurë took his leave of his brothers when Laurefindelë invited him to join him and his companions. Morifinwë kept to himself, brooding as always, and the twins teased each other over their choice of adornments. Then his gaze cut back to Tyelkormo. His cousin had been studying him with a shrewd leer while his brother, Curufinwë, whispered something in his ear.    

“Pray what happens now?” Turukáno—flustered—asked when Tyelkormo winked at him and looked away. 

“Now we must make our way to the gathering field,” Findaráto replied, rising with the others. Lady Vána arose from her place on the dais, to fetch the Valaróma for her lord husband. “It is time for the chase.” 

The chase was as rowdy as the feast, if not more so. Turukáno and Findaráto were hunters; the latter’s circlet of silver horns glinted amidst his golden hair. Findaráto took part because his curiosity would not let him be at peace. Turukáno took part because his kinsman and dear friend convinced him to, and he was not one to go back on his word after he had given it to someone he treasured. Oromë sounded the Valaróma once, and hunters silently chose their prey even as they raced into the forest. Moments passed, and the air around them thickened, feeding the anticipation that had been building since the feast began. 

“Hunters!” Oromë's cry boomed across the field, startling the nearby horses and compelling the great hounds he bred to stand to attention. “Are you ready? 

The roar that followed echoed through the gathering field. Then the Valaróma sounded a second time, and the hunters gave chase. Turukáno caught brief glimpses of many of those who ran alongside him. A few others he saw quite clearly. Varda’s handmaiden ran down a twisting path away from them, her robes a swirl of indigo wisps, her starlit skin and pink and molten silver hair shimmering in the starlight. He heard a sharp gasp, then a lusty laugh. He stopped for a moment to look. Ilmarë was ensnared by none other than the Elder King himself. She squirmed and giggled in his arms while he cooed barely heard words of endearment to her. His queen emerged from a thicket of trees, her dark hair falling around her like a waterfall full of little stars. They embraced each other. Turukáno turned to his cousin, dumbfounded.

“As long as there is no cleaving of the spirit, no ill-will ensues.” Findaráto grasped his hand and led him away. “Come. There is a clearing not far ahead.”

The clearing was full of flowers and new grass and large rocks thick with moss, and little else. No one could be seen. The others preferred the trees and forest floors covered with soft leaves over the open field. Turukáno made himself comfortable on a moss-covered stone and looked at the stars. His cousin sat by his side on the grass.

Turukáno said, “Do you remember the times we made our way to the highest balcony in grandfather’s palace?” 

Findaráto looked at him, smiling. “We would sneak into the kitchens first and fill a basket with little cakes and sweets. Then we made our way to that balcony and tried to name all the stars. The one who could name the most stars won the right to eat most of the cakes.” 

His cousin’s reply was interrupted by another who found them. “Well, well. What do I see before me?” 

The voice that called to them was thunderous and carefree at the same time. They rose to face their intruder, an elf that was well known to them. Tyelkormo stood by the edge of the clearing, garbed only in hunting leathers, with horns of bone and ivory adorning his silver-gold hair and ears and waist and wrists. He held a length of silvery rope weighed down at both ends with smooth, stone balls in his hand. He had another length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. Findaráto swore his cousin looked very much like one of the Valar on the hunt—glorious, savage, and otherworldly at the same time. Then he chided himself for even thinking such a blasphemous thought. His cousin was but an elf, and nothing more than that.  

“So this is where the two of you fled to.” The third son of Fëanáro regarded them with a sly smile spreading its way across his countenance. “And to talk of stars on a festival day such as this, when so many delights await you beyond these trees! I confess, dear cousins, that I am quite disappointed.” 

“Tis not only you who is disappointed, brother mine.” Curufinwë emerged next, dragging a delicate silver net in his right hand. He too had a length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. “We are here at a festival that frees us to be with whomever we desire, and these two prefer to gaze at the sky.” 

“Or perhaps, stargazing is not the reason why they are truly here.” Tyelkormo’s smile was a vicious thing. His shrewd, hunter’s gaze pinned his kinsmen to where they stood like they were nothing more than moths pinned to a board. “Perhaps they came to this place because they wished to do more than just admire the heavens.”

Findaráto understood his cousin’s insinuation well enough. “You assume incorrectly, Tyelko,” he sputtered, mortified. “There is nothing untoward between Turco and myself. We are friends and kinsmen, no more, no less.” 

“Nothing untoward, you say.” Curufinwë’s smile was as calculating and vicious as his brother’s, perhaps even more so. And yet, it did little to mar the finely-formed beauty he inherited from his father. “But, my dear Ingoldo, what else are we supposed to think when the two of you seek only each other for company and when one of you is always coming to the aid of the other, even when there are others more skilled at the task at hand?” 

Turukáno finally understood what his cousins were implying. “Ingoldo and I have never committed abominations of the flesh!” 

Tyelkormo turned to face him. “Truly?” He said. “Why do I struggle to believe it?”

“Peace, brother. Perhaps they speak the truth. Perhaps they have not violated taboos between kinsmen, and what we have observed thus far is wrong,” Curufinwë told him, his crafty eyes shining wickedly in the starlight. “Or perhaps, they do not see what we see.” 

“Perhaps we should help remove the scales from their eyes.” 

“Indeed, brother. Indeed.” 

Their cousins each took a step back, startled. “We have taken on the roles of hunters!” Findaráto cried protest. 

“There is no prohibition against a hunter chasing after another hunter,” Tyelkormo remarked with a casual air. 

“And we are bound by blood!” Cried Turukáno as he prepared himself to flee. His cousin could be as determined as a wolf chasing a hare when the urge to hunt was upon him. He had to be ready to turn on his heels and run as soon as Tyelkormo made a move to come near him.  

“That is of little consequence,” said Curufinwë, his knuckles white against his net. “And no one will ever know, so long as we do not talk to the others. Come, now, Turco. There is no need to be frightened. We merely wish to help; that is all.” 

“We will not consent!” Turukáno snapped at him. 

“Ah!” Cunning gray eyes shone again. “That is where you are mistaken, cousin,” he countered serenely. “You will consent.” 

Tyelkormo loosened his hold on the rope, preparing to throw it as soon as the opportunity to do so presented itself. “Remember what I taught you, brother.”

“I will, brother.” Curufinwë had eagerly listened to all that his brother had to say, for the chase was a first for him, as was the feast. “I will remember all that you told me.”

“Good.” His brother’s voice was as stern and commanding as the Vala he served when he said, “Run.” 

Turukáno took hold of Findaráto’s hand and pulled him along as they ran around the thick trunks of trees that crowded too close together, barely evading twisting, low-hanging branches and gnarled roots that protruded out of the earth. He dared to stop for a moment to look over his shoulder. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë had melted into the surrounding darkness, and nothing but darkened trees and a thin, swirling mist remained in their wake. 

“We must not tarry.” Findaráto tugged gently on his cousin’s arm, urging him forward. “We cannot linger here for too long. They will find us!” 

They ran again, and for how long, neither could say. They ran, and they ran, and they did not halt until they reached another clearing. There was no being to be seen. There was no being to be heard. They had gone further than they had ever gone in the forests of Oromë, and they had to stop. To keep running meant to lose their way, and that was something they could not do, not while rumors of a dark creature dwelling beyond the southern borders of the forests flourished. 

“Have we lost them?” Findaráto asked and stopped near the periphery of the clearing with his back to the trees. All around them stood graceful pines, mighty oaks, and giant sentinels, their leaves and branches rustling in the wind. 

“I do not know,” Turukáno said. He turned and studied the trees behind his cousin, and he saw nothing but dappled starlight flowing through the thick canopy. “There is no sight of them, at least. No sound. Perhaps we did lose—”  

He was interrupted when a whirl of silver flew toward him with such force that it knocked him to the ground. Turukáno could not move his arms. The rope had entangled itself around his torso He turned to his cousin for aid, but his cousin was also writhing against the forest floor in a vain attempt to free himself from the strange silver net that had enveloped him.

“Tyelko!” He called out in anger. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tyelkormo was the first to step out from among the trees; his brother followed him. Their boots fell against the forest floor with barely a sound made. 

“What do you think, cousin?” He helped Turukáno up to a seated position before going down to his haunches to bind his cousin’s legs at the ankles with the other length of rope that he had. “We are going to remove the scales from your eyes.”

Turukáno did not even deign to reply. He knew he could not fight his cousin and win. Tyelkormo may not have had his great stature, but he was as strong as him, and he was the better hunter by many a league. He stole a glimpse of his other cousin. Curufinwë bound Findaráto's hands and legs, and he brought him to where Turukáno sat, his back to an old pine tree. Turukáno could only watch while Tyelkormo rose, satisfied that they could not free themselves. His cousin moved to sit apart after that, regarding them the way he would a fine meal that was ready to be devoured. 

“They make such a pretty picture together.” Curufinwë dusted his hands and moved to sit cross-legged next to his brother, to better admire the sight of their captive kinsmen. 

“They do.” Tyelkormo rested his hand on the small of his brother’s back. Findaráto believed it was merely a protective gesture, and nothing more. “And they believe that there is nothing besides friendship between them. How shall we help them see, brother mine?” 

“With this,” said Curufinwë, before framing his brother’s face firmly in his hands, and pulling him in for a kiss. 

This is not the first time they have indulged in such acts. Turukáno watched, horrified, while Curufinwë and Tyelkormo embraced each other like experienced lovers, when Curufinwë allowed his brother to take liberties with him, when one let the other tangle his hands in his hair, and when one let the other move their hands to the clasp of a belt. He looked away—ashamed at not being able to dampen the arousal he felt growing between his thighs—then turned his attention to them once again when he heard a low moan.   

They look so beautiful together. Findaráto was as stunned as Turukáno by the deviancy of their cousins. Much like Turukáno, he could not look away for long. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë painted a striking image together, all silver and jet and slender, tapered hands moving in perfect rhythm with large, sculpted ones. Tyelkormo was all heat and wildness. Curufinwë was all cool restraint. He closed his eyes and tucked his head against Tyelkormo’s shoulder when he loosened the lacings of his breeches and took his erection to hand.  

“Yes. Like that,” he whispered, his hands clutching desperately at his brother’s broad back. “Ah, brother.” 

They kissed each other savagely, and then Curufinwë opened his eyes. They were dark and wanton, and they settled on his cousins. Turukáno had shame and lust warring with each other in his gaze. As for Findaráto, he had something akin to thirst in his. The firstborn son of Arafinwë turned to look at his cousin, his heart fluttering at the sight of his wide, beautiful eyes, his thick, dark hair, and his fine lips.  

Are Tyelko and Curvo correct? Findaráto pondered to himself. Is there something more than friendship between Turco and myself? Something neither of us has seen before?

At that moment, Turukáno turned to face him. Findaráto smiled bashfully. It made him look achingly beautiful. Turukáno flushed and looked away.  

No. He told himself. It cannot be true. They are wrong. There is nothing beyond friendship between us.  

He regarded his cousin again. Yearning stirred in his belly when he drank in the blue of Findaráto's eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. His head spun. Thoughts of rich, fair hair caught in a spill of bright starlight and a golden voice ringing out while caught in the throes of rapture took the place of all else. Turukáno was amazed; it was as if he was seeing his cousin in another light for the first time.  

Curufinwë smiled. We were right all along, he thought triumphantly. These two truly do share a bond that goes deeper than the bond shared by friends and kinsmen.    

They suspected it for many days now. Findaráto would always seek the opinion of his cousin, Turukáno. Turukáno would do the same in return. If one needed aid, the other would come to them. Hours would be lost when they wove their worlds of dreams together. Lovers in all but name and deed, Tyelkormo had once said, and Curufinwë remarked that perhaps such may indeed be the case. Their plan to expose their cousins' true feelings for each other was born after this, just in time for the Feast. 

“Brother,”Curufinwë groaned. Tyelkormo did something wicked to the tip of his shaft with his thumb. “Brother, I believe our kinsmen can be freed now.” 

Tyelkormo turned to look, albeit reluctantly. His treelit eyes lit up when his brother said something just loud enough for him to hear. 

“I believe you are right, brother,” he said, rising. His cousins braced themselves when he came to them, not knowing what he planned to do with them. Their fears were put to rest when he unsheathed his blade and cut the rope around Findaráto's wrists and ankles. Turukáno was next. Then he sat astride his lap and kissed him. 

Turukáno longed for nothing more than to resist him, to bite back and bloody Tyelkormo’s lips. It was no less than what he deserved, he thought. Then Tyelkormo sighed and kissed him harder. It threw the floodgates wide open, and drowned what little resistance Turukáno had.  He yielded to the wild and insistent demands of his body and returned his cousin’s kiss with equal fire, hoisting himself to his knees and taking his cousin into his arms when the warmth of his mouth continued to flow into his own. 

“Perfect,” Tyelkormo all but purred when he pulled away. He still kept himself firmly seated on his cousin’s lap, his arms draped around his shoulders. Then, he turned to Findaráto. “Join us, Ingoldo,” he said, and he gestured for his brother to join them. Curufinwë took the place he always did: by his brother’s side. “No one besides the four of us needs to know what took place this hour.” 

“Do I have your word on this?” Findaráto was tempted to say yes, but he had to consider the risk of discovery. If the others found out, the shame and disgrace that would surely follow should word of his sharing pleasures with his cousin spread—he and Turukáno would never be able to show their faces in Tirion again.

“You have my word as a son of Fëanáro, and a grandson of our king, Finwë.” Tyelkormo shuddered when his brother’s lips pressed against his shoulder and when his cousin tightened his hold around his waist. “Pray what is your answer?” 

Findaráto took a deep, steadying breath and gripped Turukáno’s chin, tilting it to the side so their lips could meet. 

[arwendeluhtiene]

✨Valar and Valier series (late 2000s)✨ - 🌟Varda Elentári🌟 and 👻Námo Mandos👻. Featuring the final paintings, plus some initial sketches. Some years ago I started a 'Valar and Valier' project in which I took an existing painting/drawing as reference/inspiration to draw/paint one of the Valar. So far, I've done Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Mandos and Aulë, and I also have some sketches of Nessa, Vána and Estë. Hope to get back to this project sometime! . I now prefer to headcanon Varda as raven-haired or white-haired and dressed in darker colours such as deep azure as well as white and gold, I think it fits the Universe theme more. I also favour non-Caucasian headcanons, such as her taking an East Asian, Egyptian or Middle-Eastern ethnicity in her form. And canonically, the Valier and Valar can technically take any form they like regarding ethnicity, appearance and such, so there’s not even an in-universe rule against having a myriad of ethnicities amid the Valar and Maiar 👌

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🌟 VARDA 🌟

🎨Media: Graphite, metallic pens, colour pencils, watercolours, metallic silver and gold gouache. The porportions are not quite right in the finished painting, the arm is too long and so on, but I really like how the head and the metallic paints turned out. . ✨References: The head for the finished painting is a direct inspiration of Alan Lee's Lady of the Lake. The initial sketch is original, the other Varda sketch and the hand studies are study-copies

👻 MANDOS 👻

. 🎨Media: Graphite, gouache on black cardboard. I quite like how the mantle turned out, not so happy with the shape or shading of the hands, but ah well xD. . ✨References: An illustration of mage Gwydion from The Mabonogion by Roger Garland, from a book of Celtic myths 

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🎨ArtStation

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🎨 DeviantArt

[outofangband]

I headcanon that there is variation in the natures of Maiar regarding their devotion, free will, purpose and expression, and intentions. Though almost all serve one of the Valar (some more closely than others), they vary in form and roles with some functionally autonomous beings with preferences and opinions and others closer to concepts or vessels.

To rank them into a neat scale would be near impossible (especially considering the number of factors) but for some examples

Eönwë is an example of a more autonomous being. He is fiercely loyal to Manwë and cannot conceive of being otherwise but he is nonetheless capable of his own opinions including those that might include a note of uncertainty or disagreement towards the will of Manwë. Eönwë is capable too of taking on different forms and has preferences regarding his appearance and control over how he changes it. Despite having a high level of autonomy for the Maiar, he will not, or cannot, veer from his path. He will serve the will of Manwë (though he might challenge it on occasion) until the end

Some Maiar are clearly capable of changing allegiances like Ossë and Sauron and Langon, perhaps feeling a devotion more to a concept than a Vala

Melian is a Maia of Vána who does not appear to serve her directly. She is capable of decisions for her own sake and the sake of others around her -and can apparently exert her will onto others and possibly control them- (CoH, Silm).

Arien and Tilion, Maiar of Vána and Oromë: they seem bound to specific tasks they do not veer from however still seem to have some autonomy, as in some versions Arien chooses different forms to appear in, Tilion makes conscious choices regarding his path, and both seem to have had some say in the ultimate decision to bear the sun and moon. They are both very powerful and in control of that power and thus I think they are more similar to Eönwë in terms of autonomy however their binding to eternal tasks still marks them as more distinctly non human and non elven

Each Vala has a different level and type of influence over their Maiar too with some forms of influence or contact that is normal for one considered taboo to another

We get into more speculation and headcanon here with other forms of Maiar

In canon there are creatures that seem to be Maia or Maia adjacent (the Eagles which do not or cannot change form and have greater power but narrower paths than ordinary eagles, dragons with their complicated autonomy and sentience, Huan and Nahar, etc)

I headcanon there are innumerable more examples of these types of beings. (I talked a bit here about the extent of Maiar)

There are Maiar who take on the forms of specific phenomena and might remain dormant or incorporeal when not appearing thus. Maiar might appear as colors, smells, wisps, emotional or psychological or even physical phenomena, flora and fauna, and even geography or dimensional spaces one can enter (I’m somewhat inspired by Mushishi too as well as the spaces in Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Remnants or residue of the Ainur appearing this way can further confuse things.

They have vastly varying degrees of sentience and awareness and communication. Less complex forms can often mean less complex existences, at least in the minds of elves and humans, but there is not a direct correlation. Some Maia appear to present only aspects of a full emotional and autonomous existence, for example appearing fully capable of humor through timing, context, etc but not otherwise able or willing to communicate with elves or replicate their experiences and expression. Some might be capable of profound empathy but unable to communicate through any spoken language, or able to mimic the body language and appearances of elves but not their tongue. Some communicate solely through music, through color, or imparting emotions.

On that note, it is not uncommon for pronoun conventions to differ among the Maiar with pronouns specific to objects, animals or abstract concepts being not uncommon

To be continued (I love world building and speculative subjects like this so please feel free to ask more! Or share thoughts!)

Follow up

[cilil]

Headcanons: The Day of Love

I felt spontaneously inspired to write down my headcanons (yes, I've thought of this before a few times) for Valentine's Day in Valinor, or, as it's known there, the Day of Love, featuring both Ainur and Elves. Enjoy!

♡ The establishment of a dedicated holiday to celebrate couples and other forms of love and companionship was, as certain people (*cough* Melkor) would snidely remark in later ages, most likely inevitable due to Manwë being a hopeless romantic and Irmo's penchant for playing matchmaker (and subsequently winning bets he made with his wife and siblings).

♡ After Tulkas and Nessa were wed - within the circles of Arda, unlike the other Valar who espoused their partners earlier - Manwë was inspired to take action and create this holiday, as everyone had greatly enjoyed the festivities and many wished to have the opportunity to express their affection for their loved ones in a similar manner, without the pomp of a wedding.

♡ It was decided that the Day of Love would be in spring, as per Vána's suggestion. To this day, there's still some debate among the inhabitants of Valinor whether she simply thought the season was appropriate or whether she was making a thinly veiled mating season joke; the Ever-young, however, has declined to comment on this. It takes place in the month of Súlimë (March), much to the delight of Manwë, usually within the third week since this is (roughly) the beginning of the season, as determined by Yavanna and Vána.

♡ Over the ages, various traditions evolved. Among the first and most notable to this day is Manwë's poetry soirée, where everyone is invited to share their romantic poems and other writings - a special iteration of his regular writing group get-togethers that strives to be as inclusive and affirming as possible. Ever since the first Day of Love was celebrated, Manwë has written a new poem for his beloved queen every single year, and Varda shows her appreciation with breath-taking meteor showers. The event has naturally become important to the Vanyar in particular, especially those who are regulars among Manwë's fellow poetry enjoyers.

♡ Irmo and Estë take great pleasure in hosting a "casual tea time feast" (as described by the Lord of Lórien himself) that welcomes not only couples or friend groups, but also explicitly those who feel lonely on such a day and would like some easy company. While Estë and her Maiar serve herbal teas for health and good spirits and bake lots of delicious cakes and other treats, Irmo prepares his (in)famous punch which so far has never failed to get a party going and distributes special "love candy" that has also come under scrutiny a few times, but is still consumed with great delight by those who dare.

♡ Aside from (more or less) innocent tea party shenanigans, Irmo is wide awake on the Day of Love for different reasons as well, mutating into the kind of entity we know as Cupid. The use of arrows has been forbidden, but that does little to stop the Lord of Dreams and Desire from making his OTPs come true by providing a little bit of "assistance". He gleefully plants courage and inspiration into the hearts and minds of Ainur and Elves alike, so that they may finally confess those feelings they have been carrying around for too long. It has been alleged that he has attempted to play bingo with his brother in regards to these things coming to pass, yet nothing could be proven and Námo, as usual, was silent.

♡ Oromë, being in good spirits as hunting season is drawing near, likes to host a special hunting events where couples (and throuples and so on, naturally) can either compete against each other or team up to hunt and see if their love is strong enough to catch even the greatest prey. While it's all in good fun and the competitive side isn't taken seriously, Oromë and his people do hold the belief that the ability to work together and cooperate, as well as engaging in friendly, playful competitions without hostility or ill will, are important parts of a relationship of any kind and thus can be a good test for couples looking to get married in particular. It is also worth noting that the hunting duels of Aredhel and Celegorm have become particularly infamous and are to this day lauded as a great example.

♡ Tulkas, as always, is looking for a fun little fight and a good laugh, and those sharing his passion are welcome in his mansion for a special kind of celebration. Many Elves and Ainur alike seek to prove themselves in battle against their peers to win the affection and admiration of whoever they wish to court, as well as engage in friendly duels with their friends and loved ones. Making sure that everything is as fair as it can be, Tulkas presides over these fights with glowing pride and invites all participants to attend a great feast after.

♡ Said feast is usually coupled with a special performance by Nessa and her Maiar, as well as others who wish to join them, and afterwards everyone is invited to dance with their partners. It is not unusual for non-martially-inclined couples to spend their day elsewhere but attend Nessa's dance party in the evening, and oftentimes the lord and lady can also be seen on the dance floor together.

♡ For Yavanna and Vána, the Day of Love is yet another instance of their boundless generosity. The two Valier share their gifts and boons freely, providing flowers, fruits and materials for the crafting of presents; sometimes even advice to those who seek it. Year after year, their husbands show their gratitude - as well as vicariously for the rest of Valinor - by crafting and hunting special gifts for them, and it is said that the trees and flowers bloom even more beautifully on that day to celebrate their ladies' joy.

♡ Among the Elves, traditions are varied as well. Particularly famous is the pearl-diving of the Teleri, a test of both courage and skill where young and old lovers alike venture out into the sea and seek to find the most beautiful pearls to bring home to their partners. Ulmo gives his blessings freely to all who attempt such a feat and, together with his Maiar, makes sure that everyone returns home safely; over the years, many a daring Elf had to be fished out of more perilous waters. These pearls - and other treasures that were found - are particularly precious to the Teleri and objects crafted from or with them may even become family heirlooms.

♡ The Noldor, together with Aulë, Vairë and their Maiar, spend a lot of time before the Day of Love crafting wonderful gifts for their loved ones. These creations are a matter of great pride and may hold a lot of different, intricate meanings, often being a key component in courtship. Aside from all sorts of trinkets, couples are often seen exchanging promise jewelry. A particularly noteworthy occurrence over the years was the unveiling of a great Fëanor statue, made by none other than Nerdanel during their courtship, and to this day spectators claim that they have never seen Fëanor this speechless before or after.

♡ The Vanyar, aside from attending the festivities in Ilmarin, are also fond of music and love to sing or otherwise perform for their loved ones. Such performances are often done with special costumes and instruments, and the gifting of instruments is regarded as something especially intimate and meaningful. Those among the Maiar of Manwë and Varda who are not too fond of poetry like to join the Vanyar instead, offering their own songs and arts as entertainment. Eönwë and other avian Ainur are regularly asked for their feathers and even grow special plumage to accommodate these requests.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to take inspiration from these (though as always a little shout-out is appreciated if you create your own stuff based on this post ♡).

[genempire]

for cleon's tolkien universe, i have a few thoughts: there were a couple of options that came to mind, but i've ultimately settled on him being a maia in service to vána, the ever-young. replacing the maiar arien, the valar named him to guide the vessel of the sun to give light to middle-earth. in this decision many counselled otherwise, for it was known that though he did not choose to side with melkor and the other corrupted maiar, darkness had entered his heart of hearts, and the valar saw a time when the sun would grow dark and no longer give warmth and brightness to the land. still, they named cleon to this role, and to the elves he became known by three names in the three forms he took during the sun's passage: brother dawn, brother day, and brother dusk. each had a growing visage and temperament, from the naive dawn, the impulsive day, and the contemplative dusk. one form, known by name only to the most learned of elven scholars, is that of brother darkness, when the vessel of the moon takes over the sky. though not wholly bound to the vessel of the sun (as the golden fruit of laurelin is what gives most, if not all, of the light), he cannot stray from it for long lest the sun drift from its path. he often departs during the autumn and winter, when the sun distances itself slowly without his guiding, until his return in the spring and summer.

[swanmaids]

for @imakemywings . huge congratulations on finishing your school exams!! have some pain.

Tirion

Gently, Turukáno lifted his little sister out of her tow- cart, and set her onto the path. Tirion’s walled gardens were beautiful, blossoming with unnumbered types of flowers, dotted throughout with marble statues and tended by maiar of Vána herself. He was about to tell Irissë of some of the rare plants that could be found along the path, but before he could open his mouth to do so, the little girl was racing ahead of him. Turukáno smiled to himself as he followed her, long legs easily keeping pace.

Keeping his little sister out from under his parent’s feet while they took lunch with his aunt and uncle hadn’t been Turukáno’s plan for the day, but Findekáno was nowhere to be found, and besides, spending time with Irissë was never a chore.

“Look!” she cried, an enormous leaf clasped in a chubby fist, “I’ve found the biggest leaf ever!”

“Let me see, dear heart” he smiled, encouraging her to open her hand. “My goodness!” he mock-gasped. “That certainly looks like a big leaf to me. But for the biggest ever - well, we might need to make for Laurelin for that. What do you say we go there tomorrow, hmm?”

“Laurelin!” Irissë cheered.

That was settled, then. “But now we’re here, I’d like to get some sketches of the statues...”

“Turukáno? We didn’t expect to see you here!” a voice behind them called. He turned, to see Findaráto’s sweetheart Amarië , arm in arm with -

“Elenwë ?”

“It was actually me who called out to you, but yes, I am here with my lovely friend”, Amarië rebuked lightly,  “We came to see the rose garden. But what about you? I’ve not seen you around here before.”

Turukáno felt his face heat. Surely his feelings about Elenwë could be seen from space at this point, no matter how he tried to conceal them. He chanced a look at her - her face was red and she was staring at the ground. Oh no, had he embarrassed her too?

Salvation came in the form of Irissë barelling into his legs.

“What’re you talking about?” she called. Turukáno would never cease his fascination with how such a small child could be so very loud. He lifted her onto his hip and let her play with one of his stray braids.

“I’m just saying hello to my friends, sweetling. Amarië, Elenwë , this is my sister Irissë . I’ve just brought her here to play, she likes the leaves...” he paused, noticing that his sister had begun to chew on his hair. “Actually, it’s about time for her snack, excuse me a moment -” he fumbled with the pockets of his robes, to produce a small pouch of dried fruits - “here, sweetling.”

Elenwë smiled, Laurelin’s light illuminating her face and hair. “You’re, um. You’re good with her”, she said quietly.

He shifted Irissë ’s warm, solid weight in his arms. “I love her”, he said, and meant it.

Gondolin

Turgon had not thought he was capable of crying any more tears, not since his wife’s hand had slipped from his grip and she had fallen below the icy waters, but it seemed life was determined once again to prove him wrong.

“Turukáno”, his sister rasped, and a bloody froth bubbled from her mouth as she did so. Her shoulder where the javelin had smote her was staining the bandages around it a foul green colour, and the air in the room was thick with the strange sweet scent of rot.

“Don’t try to talk if it hurts you”, he implored her, “I understand. It’s alright.” It was difficult to get the words out, around the ache in his throat. He knelt by the side of her bed and took her hand, damp with sweat.

She gave a small smile. “Turukáno. I’m glad that I could see you again..”

“Me too”, he said, and scrubbed his face with the back of his free hand. “Me too.” But not like this, anything but this...

Aredhel had not wanted her son to see her this way. The siblings were alone together, the world condensed to the bedchamber of the dying woman.

“Do you remember how you used to take me to the gardens in Tirion?” she asked. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without weeping.

“I always loved those trips. Perhaps we’ll see each other there again... I’d like that...”

Her hand slipped from his grasp. Turgon buried his face in the blankets and howled.

***

He told his daughter and his vassals to leave him as he walked the city walls alone. There was much to do. He had ordered all the tapestries taken down and the statues covered, so that the very walls themselves would mourn for Aredhel. Then there was a funeral and a burial to ready the city for, and a grieving nephew to shelter.

His stomach swooped as he reached Caragdûr and looked down over the edge. It would be quick, whispered the traitor voice inside his head, the one that had dogged his heels ever since that awful day on the Ice. A few more steps and put an end to all this. A few more steps and you’ll be back with Aredhel, and Argon, and Elenwë.

But he could not do it. There was his daughter to think of, and the boy...

Alone on the ledge, he let out a scream, and stood to listen as it rang around the mountains.