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zealouswerewolfcollector · 11 months ago

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End of Year Fic Recs

I was tagged by @swanmaids and @grey-gazania. Thank you both <3 The year hasn't ended yet, so I can post this.

Inviting all tagged authors to participate if you haven't already.

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Five Series/Multi-Chapter Fics

1. By Treason of Kin Unto Kin by @amethysttribble

This epic Silm/aSoIaF crossover is the third part of Tribble's Everlasting Song series. It's gripping, fantastically written and very carefully thought out. You won't regret checking out how the sons of Feanor, reborn in Westerosi noble families, navigate the aSoIaF world.

2. The Valiant by whyyesindeed

Reborn Fingon returns to Beleriand to find his husband just before the Third Kinslaying in this beautiful and touching fic. It has a sequel too, which I haven't read yet, but I'm sure it's just as well-written as the first part.

3. Celechwes Fixes the Noldor by @tanoraqui

To my shame, I haven't finished this fic yet, but I can't recommend it enough. Celechwes - who marries both Fingon and Maedhros - is a delightful protagonist, the story flows so smoothly and is so much fun to read, while also being very moving.

4. The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant by @melestasflight and @polutrope

All seven sons of Feanor court Fingon in this hilarious, brilliant and inspiring fic. I had so much fun reading it, and if you haven't yet, please do yourselves a favor.

5. For We Walk by Faith, Not by Sight by an_evasive_author

This fic began in 2019 and continues to this day, and I still love it like before. Post-Thangorodrim and beyond Russingon with canon divergence. It is exceptional but deals with a very heavy subject-matter, so make sure you read the tags.

Five Single Chapter Fics/One-Shots

1. Tender Morsels by @sallysavestheday

Everything Sally writes is brilliant, but this one did something to my brain. Dark romance (like cannibalism dark) and Russingon coupled with perfect prose. It makes me go insane.

2. Project Requirements by @searchingforserendipity25

This short supply list by Miriel will delight you and break your heart. The author is an expert in this.

3. The knife that shapes the knife by @quixoticanarchy

This OC-centric fic is a careful, heartbreaking study of observing without acting, going with the flow until you sink into evil when you were trying to do good. It stayed with me for a long time.

4. enemy of good by @welcomingdisaster

Every single fic by the author could be here, I chose this one because it was the first one of I read. Maedhros is going through some stuff and tries to resolve it through bondage and sex. Incredible characterization and writing. Russingon, E-rated.

5. post mortem by @swanmaids

Examination of four Feanorian bodies post-Second Kinslaying - a brilliant idea, executed perfectly. The clinical description doesn't take away from the horror, on the contrary, adds to it.

Five Oldies but Goodies

1. No Way You Can Fall by @hhimring

Himring's Maedhros is one of my absolute favorite Maedhroses ever. This fic takes place post-canon with Maedhros freshly out of the Halls meeting a suspicious Fingolfin at Fingon's house. It is written with so much care and gentleness. It warms my heart every time I read it.

2. Tributary by @oopsbirdficced

It's a Spirited Away/Silm fusion and it's Russingon! What's not to love? Adorable, beautiful and magical, I still remember this fic from time to time, even though I read it so long ago.

3. In From the Cold by @dorwinionwhining

Short but so sweet and so well-written Russingon ficlet. The tenderness and their easiness with each other kills me. So good!

4. fools enough to love each other more than we can bear by @potatoobsessed999

After the Nirnaeth, Maedhros receives braids with golden ribbons from Morgoth. Now he has to decide if he should go and save Fingon. Unbearably painful and so good. I can't bear to reread it because it hurts so much.

5. Testrun by goldtoashes and heirsofbrokenlegacies

This is just one part of the authors' series Grow as we go. It's a Modern AU that includes pairings Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros/Sauron, Sauron/Celebrimbor and even Maedhros/Sauron/Fingon. The whole series is amazing, but this part is my favorite because it's just Maedhros and Fingon in domestic bliss. The series is E-rated, this one part is M-rated.

Five Fics of My Own

1. Lady Makalaurë Fëanáriel Dying of Poison, Late Second Age, Artist Unknown

Post-canon Maglor wanders alone in her spaceship until she discovers something that Gil-galad has to know. This fic doesn't get much attention, which is understandable (it's an AU, a Space AU at that, genderbent and Maglor/Wife), but I loved writing it and I still like it. This was my second TRSB fic this year, and it's the first time I wrote two fics for this event, so I'm pretty proud of it.

2. My cannibalism ficlet and it's companion the other cannibalism ficlet

The first one is quite tragic because I like tormenting Fingon. The second one is lighter in mood, but it's still about cannibalism, so.

3. Alone in the Unknown

The angstiest thing I've ever written. It's the latest part of my Fingon Lives AU. This one focuses on Maglor and his futile attempts to bring Maedhros out of his near-catatonic state.

4. Fingolfin and Fingon and later Maedhros and Fingon discuss some heavy subjects

Not to be too modest, but I think I did some of my best writing here. Fingolfin has fears that Maedhros might be under Morgoth's influence and shares them with his son.

5. Now a Quill, Now a Sword

Maedhros and Fingon's relationship told mostly through letters. This fic deserves a click just for @melestasflight's absolutely stunning art embedded in there if not for anything else. It was a pleasure collaborating with them.

#silmarillion #silm fic #fic rec #zwc fic #a lot of these are russingon of course #but there are a few others

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i-did-not-mean-to · 4 months ago

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Week 3 - Gathering

Oh after accidentally posting this to the wrong account...

here we go with chapter 4 of this!

Prompt: Maedhros x Fingon, Fingolfin, Finrod

Pairing: Gathering

Words: 2 090

Warnings: Sadness, betrayal, drama, and fear

“A terrible creature,” Ñolofinwë gasped and waved his hands frantically to impress upon his spellbound audience just how tall and looming his mysterious jailor had been. “With fangs like knives and claws like curved daggers…”

He put all his failing strength into this impassionate speech for he could sense the natural disbelief in the shrewd gazes of his young kinsmen—he could not fault them for believing him to be merely overcome with delirious fatigue. Had he been in their stead, he’d also have struggled to simply accept so lurid a tale.

“It has my son,” he finished his diatribe feebly. “Help me!”

“You are the King,” Findaráto, ever eager to throw himself bodily into any interesting adventure, conceded. “And if this be your command, I shall be more than happy to follow your orders.”

Ñolofinwë smiled wearily; he heard the end of the sentence his nephew didn’t speak out of respect and caution. “Even if I don’t believe a word you say.”—the meaning was there, hovering like a foul smell in the blessedly warm and dry throne room, but the King was too exhausted to take offence to Findaráto’s potentially selfish, reckless motives when all that mattered was the retrieval of his son and heir.

“I’ll be off before morning light,” Findaráto promised. “I shall assemble the best men I can rouse on such short notice. Worry not, Uncle, we’ll bring back my dear cousin. Rest and recover!”

There was deep love and earnest pity in his mellow voice now, and Ñolofinwë sank back against the soft cushions someone had piled around him as if they were afraid he’d collapse without support.

“Very good,” he croaked. “May your road be blessed!”

Nelyafinwë had managed to ignite the damp wood in the old, draughty fireplace and was now sitting back on his haunches, strangely self-conscious of his glaring nudity in the face of one dressed in such torn splendour.

“How did you get cursed?” Findekáno asked, cautiously taking a sip of his bitter, stale tea. He couldn’t fully understand the strange and cruel fairy tale in which he’d found himself, but all thoughts of murder and escape had long since fled his mind.

How could he sustain such absurd musings when the captor he’d expected to be barbaric and brutal had turned out to be a touchingly sad youth of such exquisite beauty that the Prince couldn’t bear to avert his gaze from those long, sculptural limbs for even a single moment?

“My father angered the wrong sorcerer?” Nelyafinwë sighed. He’d agonised over that very question for too long without having come to any satisfactory conclusion, and he was sick and tired of the torturous doubt rearing its venomous head every so often. “He was an angry man—haughty, dismissive, and regrettably short-sighted at times—and he must have crossed one who sought to take revenge.”

“Was? Anyway,I don’t see how that is your fault,” Findekáno interjected pointedly. “Is there nothing that can be done? It was not mere posturing that made me claim that someone will come to deliver me…and I’m afeared for your safety.”

A terrible silence fell. Then, somewhere deep within the labyrinthine bowels of the castle, a clock chimed.

“We’ll be fine,” Nelyafinwë smiled gratefully. “You must be tired; let me show you to your quarters.”

“In the dungeons?” At that thought, Findekáno’s face hardened suddenly, and his gaze automatically sought the sword he’d cast aside earlier. It lay still where he’d left it, but a pair of scissors and a hammer had inched up to it in what he could only interpret as a pose of menacing challenge.

Shaking his head, Nelyafinwë got to his feet once more. His motions were jerky and awkward as if he was no longer used to performing such mundane, unaggressive movements.

“You’ve proven that you’re willing to keep your word; you shall be given a room. I’ll attempt to make sure that all the lighting fixtures are functional—you have my leave to explore our shared prison at your ease. I’d only ask you not to intrude upon the west wing—some secrets are better left undisturbed.”

Even though he nodded, the very picture of amiable compliance, Findekáno resolved then and there to disregard the exceedingly polite and undoubtedly reasonable request.

It was amply clear to him that his host—for Nelyafinwë had supplied much-needed warmth in the form of a blazing fire and a hot drink which warranted a change in title—was reluctant to share the whole truth.

“I’ll save you yet,” the valiant warrior thought stubbornly. He would not wait for the inevitable confrontation in which he would, there was no doubt about it, lose one way or another.

Indeed, he didn’t want to see either his friends and kinsmen or this bewitching contradiction slain before he’d exhausted every other avenue.

Many an ungenerous thing had been said about his father behind his noble back, but nobody could have ever accused him of neglecting the education of his children, so Findekáno was fairly confident that he could and would devise a solid plan to reverse this unholy curse and become a rescuer rather than a mere detainee.

If only his brother or his cousin had been with him—Turukáno’s love for lore and Artanis’s uncanny instinct would surely have cut his research and frenzied cogitation in half.

Alas, all he had at his disposal was his own intellect and a fierce heart, set aflame by the endearing beauty and charm of the tall redhead now fleeing the fire’s revealing glow to plunge into the obscuring shadows of the passage leading away from the dining room.

“Will your brothers guard me?” Findekáno asked as innocently as he could, hastening after the retreating gleam of a long, white back.

“My brothers are a harp, a knife, creaking scales, a hammer, and a pair of rusty scissors respectively,” Nelyafinwë chuckled. “They might keep a screw on you—for lack of actual eyes—but I rather think that they’ll prefer hounding me for my breach of the rules.”

Feeling the biting sting of unwelcome guilt, Findekáno was about to ask whether it would be more agreeable to everyone if he spent the night in the same cell his father had only recently vacated when Nelyafinwë asked a question of his own.

“Do you have siblings?”

Findekáno sighed. “Two younger brothers and a sister. My brothers are quite unlike in temper and tastes, and my sister cannot be compared to another living being without insulting one or the other…”

“What about you? Do you share many traits with them?” Nelyafinwë turned around. The light of a nearby window washed across his sharp collarbones and his almost elfin face in a way that made it so inexplicably hard for the mesmerised onlooker to breathe that Findekáno nearly failed to so much as understand the question put to him.

“They’re much like me in some ways,” he finally said slowly. “And completely unfathomable in others. Turukáno is smarter than I could ever endeavour to be, Írissë is so fearless and independent that she frightens the living daylights out of our parents, and Arakáno is impetuous to a fault.”

“You love them dearly,” Nelyafinwë commented feelingly.

“That I do. I wish you could meet them—they would be just as fascinated by you as I am.”

“You flatter one you barely know. However, you actually might understand better than most that I also have my own brothers’ well-being in mind in everything I do and say. Unfortunately, they’re as different from one another as the seasons or the times of day, and it’s nigh-impossible to make all of them happy.”

As he spoke those words, full of regret and unequivocal devotion, Nelyafinwë halted outside a richly decorated door. “My room is just down the corridor,” he informed Findekáno in a low voice, tinged with embarrassment. “Do not hesitate to seek me out if Káno’s mewling keeps you awake—you shan’t disturb me.”

“Will you be enjoying the fleeting pleasures of your magnificent body?” As soon as the words had left his lips and returned to his own ears in an avenging echo, Findekáno flinched vehemently. “Oh, my mother would have me take nought but bread and water for a week as punishment for that comment. I meant no offence—I don’t know why I said it…like that.”

Caressing the strange and unexpectedly stimulating visitor with an unreadable look, Nelyafinwë allowed himself to display that gentle, cryptic smile that had once driven maidens and squires alike mad with delight.

“Mayhap, it’s considered unrighteous that any living man should inhabit such a dangerously corrupting form for more than half the day—justly so, if I may be so bold—and it’s in an effort to preserve the nutrition and sanity of those around you that you’re perforce deprived of so fearsome a weapon,” he muttered under his breath.

Suppressing what could have been a groan or a fit of giddy laughter, Nelyafinwë pushed open the door. “Justice—as an eternal, immutable concept—is not for us to know or to question. I bid you good night, Findekáno, honourable son, loving brother, and astounding guest. This evening might have been the best I’ll ever have, and my raging regrets have dulled into a sense of bittersweet sadness—I thank you for that.”

With a crisp bow, he withdrew, followed by various metal objects clanking after him in the impenetrable darkness.

“Good,” Findekáno whispered, not even taking the time to enjoy the exceptional beauty of his lodgings, and slipped out again noiselessly to explore the forbidden wing.

He was sure that Nelyafinwë would have to contend with a gathering of irate weapons and instruments of different natures, and he pushed aside the pang of instinctive sympathy and solidarity.

His sister often reproached him for being too loquacious, but—in this instance—he was almost certain that all the conversations he’d prompted since arriving would ultimately lead to a happy resolution of his sensitive but stirring conundrum.

Nelyafinwë didn’t need to turn around to sense his brothers’ presence.

“We cannot keep him here,” he enunciated, trying to dissimulate the note of imminent grief in his voice. “To protect and defend you, I shall set him free come morning. Once he’s seen my bestial form, he shall be glad to leave this place.”

Angry sounds of scraping metal exploded behind him, but still, he didn’t have the heart to face the lacklustre objects. In his mind, Nelyafinwë conjured up the images of his brothers as they’d once been.

Even now, he could easily recall Kanafinwë’s twinkling eyes and Morifinwë’s characteristic blush. Of all the cursed members of this family, Curufinwë The Younger might have been the only one who was relieved to no longer glimpse echoes of their father’s glory in his reflection, but even he surely regretted having been reduced to unyielding intransigence.

Turcafinwë had been cutting in his remarks and actions, and the twins undoubtedly had ever been two blades slashing in perfect synchronicity, but they’d also been warm and funny.

Nobody, not even beings of such ruthless violence as they’d been, deserved to be nought but weapons, forever barred from touch without risking injuring another.

A slow, questioning melody threaded itself into the hum of the others’ discontentment.

“No, there shall be no forgiveness for us,” Nelyafinwë replied. “I just want to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.”

The harp’s song became more insistent, pleading without needing words.

“Yes, I did enjoy this evening, but I cannot keep him for my own pleasure,” Nelyafinwë sighed. “He has siblings as well—I’d never bereave them of their older brother any more than I could desert you lot.”

A single note, a strident accusation, cut him short. Nelyafinwë winced—he hated being reminded of his attempt to find the one who’d cursed them. Not only had he failed to undo their misery, but he’d also risked leaving his siblings stranded and rudderless.

“I’m here now,” he said, turning to his bed and lifting the sharp-edged tools onto the soft blanket one by one. “It’s you and I, forevermore. I love you.”

He couldn’t bear to close his eyes, so he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft clangour of the resting tools.

Suddenly, an incongruous sound startled him out of his drifting reverie—he slipped off the bed and snuck out, counting the hours until sunrise.

Heavy-hearted and soft-footed, Nelyafinwë apprehensively turned towards the condemned wing to bravely face his oldest and most intimate fears.

@fellowshipofthefics

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southfarthing · 2 years ago

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Fingon headcanons/thoughts that I need to wring out of my brain:

He has a youthful appearance and mannerisms, and he is often reckless. (Even before Turgon starts his own family, people always think he is the eldest.) Fingon is sometimes self-conscious about this – though Argon, the youngest, admires and adores him, Turgon and Aredhel stop looking up to him and asking him for advice as soon as they mature, and Fingon wonders what they think of him now – and he feels he has a lot to learn from Maedhros on how to be a good heir and older brother.

In Aman, he is perceived as gentle and warm. (Though this is perhaps because there hasn't yet been cause for Fingon to become passionate or fierce.) Not a threat, and this is why Fëanor doesn't mind his friendship with Maedhros – if anything, it is beneficial to Fëanor because it feels more as though Maedhros has Fingon under his influence than the other way round; and it is strangely satisfying thinking that he is inadvertently taking something of Fingolfin's away from him.

Fingon dotes on Argon, and later also on Idril. Argon is the first to thread gold into his hair, and he does this because little Idril asks one day why she has golden hair but some of her family has black hair instead. Argon likes the way it looks, and he decides to keep it. After he dies, Fingon begins to thread his own hair with gold to keep Argon's legacy alive. (Idril quietly helps him, the first few times, and Fingon wonders if she is thinking of her uncle or of her mother, or perhaps both.)

Things are tense during Morgoth's whispers, but Fingon has his first real fallout with Maedhros after Fëanor threatens Fingolfin with his sword; and when Fëanor is exiled to Formenos, and his sons and Finwë follow, Fingon doesn't see Maedhros for years – or his grandfather, who willingly chooses exile with Fëanor, the one at fault, over Fingolfin, the one who deserves loyalty and comfort. It stings, but Fingon looks at his father, who has always handled family grievances with grace and composure, no matter how hard his hands shake beneath the table, and Fingon knows that this is how he must also be. He must be the son his father needs.

The Darkening is the first time he feels fear. The Trees, Finwë's death, Fëanor's oath – they all happen so quickly, and Fingon, though he has little love for Fëanor, is shaken, and is susceptible to Fëanor's words about Middle Earth. When he sees the violence at Alqualondë, he rushes to the Noldor's aid.

The guilt of the kinslaying never leaves him. Worse is that Argon blindly follows him into the bloodshed; Argon bloodies his hands because of Fingon's recklessness and poor judgement, and dies early – a hero's death, despite the sins. Fingon bitterly laments that Argon is the one to die, when he was so young and full of life, while he remains. But then he grows to understand that death was an escape, and he himself must live through the guilt of his own actions and the horrors of Morgoth choking the land. He craves forgiveness and forgetfulness for himself, and this is why he so readily forgives the Fëanorians.

His relationship with Turgon is never the same. Turgon never wanted to leave Aman, and now Elenwë is dead, and he is trapped in this forsaken land, while Fingon slew kin at Alqualondë and risked his own life for those who abandoned him. Turgon is the heir Fingolfin deserves – Fingon knows this, though he never lets himself grow bitter over it. Still, he feels the hurt deeply when Turgon leaves and takes Idril and Aredhel with him; and later, when he waits anxiously for news of Fingolfin, and learns many months later that he was killed and his body taken to Turgon, wherever he is, and not brought to Hithlum – to Fingon.

He is lonely, and he has never done well with being alone. He misses Angrod and Aegnor deeply, and Finrod and Maedhros and Galadriel are so far away, and Turgon and Aredhel have left him. The rule of the Noldor was never meant to be his. He spends more time with Lalwen and Húrin and Huor, and he surrounds himself with other people, not wanting to allow silence and darkness to get a hold of his mind.

He doesn't know if they have any chance of succeeding against Morgoth, but Maedhros seems so sure, so refreshingly hopeful for the first time in years, despite everything, and Fingon hasn't the heart to say no. The plan is sound, and their forces strong, and Maedhros is right – the longer they wait, the weaker they will be. Fingon doesn't want a slow demise, dwindling in strength and valour until he dies pitifully and alone, with nobody left to care. He envies Argon, and Fingolfin, and Finrod: they died fiercely, in defense of their people. Fingon wants the same, if he cannot have victory.

He is wary with his own hopes: he does not want more disappointment. He smiles and puts on airs of confidence, and his people believe him. He lets Maedhros take charge, and once more, he admires Maedhros's ability to lead and to bring people together. It does not make him doubt his own abilities anymore: he is past such internal thoughts. He focused purely on survival, working tirelessly to make this work, and Maedhros's words, while they haven't instilled him with the same sort of reckless hope, they have given him purpose.

The day of the battle arrives, and he finally lets himself think, in the anxious stillness of dawn. He thinks of Aman, and of his mother; he thinks of his father and his siblings; of Fëanor and everything that has happened since they arrived in Middle Earth. He thinks of the soldiers below who will die in the coming days. No. He shakes his head. There is valour to be gained yet, and great deeds, and deep hurts to the enemy in revenge for everything they have suffered at his hand. Fingon feels a strange sort of peace – a light wind blows past him, and he lets out the breath he has been holding. In the distance, he hears trumpets, and he turns to look at his men in question. But then the trumpet blows again, and Fingon recognises the sound.

#🚨🚑🚨🚑🚨🚑🚨🚑🚨 girl hellp im losing it at 1am #well i started this at 1am anyway #fingon #silmarillion #mp #turgon #maedhros #sunny writes #this is basically a fic at this point lmao 😩🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

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feanor-no · 4 months ago

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Ooooh boy I have opinions. Here we go. (Buckle up, it's gonna be a long one).

First of all, lots of excellent choices here, I was mostly torn between Ingwe, Olwe, Turgon and Dior.

Now, pretty much anyone here has made mistakes at some point or another (except maedhros he's perfect in every way ❤) and while I consider those four to be the worst kings here for different reasons, I ultimately went with Ingwe for the simple reason that he calls himself king of ALL elves which is ...laughable at best. It's like Thingol calling himself king of Beleriand, or Manwe calling himself king of all Arda...hmm, I'm noticing a pattern here 🤔 (Smart choice not to include Thingol OR Manwe in this poll btw 🤣)

To quote my favourite guy “A king is he that can hold his own or else his title is vain.”

So I picked Ingwe just for that, although others on this list are pretty strong contenders and have more severe fuck-ups than him.

I'm not so hard on Dior here despite him being an abject failure as king only due to his age and the fact that he didn't exactly have the best role models, at least in terms of ruling and responsibility , so he was bound to be utter idiot I think.

As for Turgon, do we even count him as a high king of the noldor or just the king of Gondolin? I'm not sure if he was ever a high king at all, seeing that he was too busy hiding under his rock to claim any authority over the noldor. I think the kingship passed straight to Gil Galad but I could be wrong. Was he ever referred to as the high king in the text? If so, an abject failure, desperately needs a reality check in the form of a steel chair in the face along with the others I mentioned, might be worst that Ingwe in that case actually, because unlike Ingwe he was right there, not an ocean away and chose to fuck off into the mountains and abandon everyone anyway.

If we're only counting him as the king of Gondolin then....good enough ig? Towards only the Gondolindrim and absolutely no one else ever, but in that case everyone else wouldn't have been his responsibility anyway so...Not great, but not as terrible as he could have been. He's made some serious mistakes and he did fuck up massively at the end but at least he kept his people fed and safe for some time, so there's that. Personally I would hate to live in Gondolin but hey that's just me, if the Gondolindrim were happy more power to them.

Olwe... what @dfwbwfbbwfbwf said basically. I would only add that his speech to Feanor made me want to smack him through the page, he was so condescending and stand-offish for no reason to the grieving son of his supposed friend? His friend that was just murdered...wtf Olwe? Would it kill you to show some sympathy?!? Actually it might, for this was also the elf who, when the Trees died and Finwe was dead and Morgoth was on the loose and the Valar were useless and everyone was in a panic he just went...."Trees? What Trees? Not my problem, we prefer ✨ starlight ✨ here anyway, so we'll be just fine, and that's all that matters really 😄. My thoughts and prayers to you guys though 🙏" And I'll never stop screaming about how he wasn't even willing to ferry them OR EVEN TEACH THEM how to build their own boats, what an asshole. "Friend"...yeah right. Friend my ass.

Finwe and Fingolfin made mistakes, sure, but they're nowhere near as bad as some of the others here, so not much to say about them. Fingolfin's mistakes were for the most part before he became a king, so he gets a pass here. Finwe made many mistakes as a king, even more as a father but ultimately not as bad as everyone else here I think.

Feanor, my sweet darling boy...I'll be the first to admit he wasn't the greatest king, BUT I want it acknowledged that he came into kingship under terrible circumstances in what was an unprecedented and quite frankly unwinnable situation and had to figure out how to wage war on a literal deity while the other deities were looking away and tutting (and cursing him and his people 👀), AND had to figure out a way to get his people off the continent quickly while having his brother undermining him AND having to deal with his own immense grief on top of all that. My guy was in an impossible situation where he encountered obstacle after obstacle and considering all that, I don't think he was that bad at all actually. Not a king that was prepared for wartime certainly, not the right leader for that situation (or in the frame of mind that he was in at the time) but not a bad king by a long shot.

Also, I'd like to point out something that really bothers me. I keep seeing other people's actions or even the unintended consequences of someone's actions being attributed to Feanor as a way to paint him in a worse light, chief of which is that he supposedly made/forced his sons to take the oath which is...not canon? "Then Feanor swore a terrible oath. His seven sons leapt straightway to his side and took the selfsame vow together" How is this wording indicate that they were forced in any way? If anything it's the opposite of that. I'm not going to rant about the oath here, and if that someone's headcanon whatever, you do you, but please remember that not only it's not canon, it's contradicted by canon. I'm only saying that because I keep seeing people earnestly arguing that Feanor was a controlling, overbearing father who took his poor sons away from their mother and forced them to swear a terrible oath that destroyed their lives and like....where are you people getting that from???

Anyway, back to the point of the post. (I'm almost done, I promise)

As for Thranduil, I just want to say that this is complete slander, Thranduil was never a greedy, isolationist, discount Thingol, that was an invention for the movie (because they needed an antagonist to bully the heroic dwarves 🙄), he was a badass who withstood an evil spider infestation (very brave) while having to deal with Sauron squatting in his backyard for centuries AND did all that without a Girdle (suck it Thingol) but he was also just a chill guy who wore berries in his hair, who raised a goofy ass kid, who had good relationship with his neighbours and immediately came to their aid when the dragon attacked. He also thought that Bilbo was just adorable, so you know...very relatable king.

Because Thingol wins by default:

Propaganda/Who's Who

Elu Thingol, King of Doriath Didn’t even need to be involved with the Silmarils, but nooooo. Claimed to be king of all Bereriand, despite hiding behind the Girdle. Managed to be racist toward Dwarves, Men, and other Elves simultaneously. Banned an entire language out of spite. Didn’t listen to his wife or daughter, even though they were both more powerful and wiser than him. Imprisoned his daughter and tried to get her boyfriend killed. Got chopped up by Dwarves over jewelry and honestly? He had it coming. SIR NOT APPEARING IN THIS POLL.

Finwë, King of the Noldor Handled his remarriage poorly and played favorites. Arguably the reason Fëanor is Like That. Hiding in Mandos so nobody can ask him uncomfortable questions.

Fëanor, King of the Noldor Pick your battles. Pick- pick fewer battles than that. Put some of battles back. Stabbed people over boats, then ditched his siblings in the parking lot to deal with the authorities. Got his sons to swear a binding Oath with him, then died immediately. On the other hand, he is very charismatic.

Fingolfin, King of the Noldor Schemed against his brother because he thought he would be a better king. He was RIGHT, but it wasn’t a good look.

Ingwë, High King of the Elves Everyone forgets he’s High King of the Elves. High King of doing NOTHING.

Maedhros, Lord of Himring Listen. Listen. I know he was involved in multiple kinslayings. But have you considered that I love him.

Olwë, King of the Falmari Stood between the Noldor and the exit. In hindsight, a bad choice. Probably should have agreed to Uber, dude.

Turgon, King of the Noldor & Gondolin Stop hiding under a rock and help out, you utter failson. He did build Gondolin though. In hindsight, not sure that’s actually a positive.

Dior Eluchíl, King of Doriath Unfortunately, it turns out that being hot does not exempt you from Consequences.

Thranduil, King of the Silvan Elves Racist isolationist with a tendency to project his own flaws on everyone else. Somehow managed to learn only wrong things from Thingol’s example. Bad host, too.

#tolkien #silmarillion #finwe #feanor #oath of feanor #sons of feanor #feanorians #maedhros #fingolfin #turgon #ingwe #olwe #thingol #elu thingol #dior #dior eluchil #thranduil

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fuckingfinwions · 3 years ago

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The previous anon here. Thank you so much!

Yeah, some people at Himring would definitely be horrified if they knew and they would think about telling Fingolfin or helping Fingon.

Maedhros has successfully deluded himself into thinking that this is temporary and that he and Fingon will be able to have what they had before. If only Fingon stopped fighting him every second! He feels upset when Fingon’s upset, so he tries to comfort him, even if he’s the one who has upset him. Fingon hates it, but when Maedhros withdraws his affection for a while after Fingon’s attempt at his life, Fingon hates it even more because as much as he didn’t want it, sometimes he closed his eyes and let himself pretend that they are in his or Maedhros’s bedroom and everything’s fine.

Maedhros is constantly justifying his actions in his head, so he does feel betrayed and surprised when Fingon tries to kill him. His punishments are never sexual, or rather they aren’t sexual for Maedhros because he isn’t turned on by Fingon’s pain (some punishments still have sexual character, it’s only that Maedhros isn’t directly raping him and gets no sexual pleasure from it). Maedhros does believe that the punishments are necessary and he absolutely thinks that he’s being just because it could have been so much worse. It was so much worse for Maedhros.

He probably had a moment of self-doubt after the attempt on his life because it was Fingon trying to kill him. It shook him pretty badly and for a couple of days he was like ‘am I the baddie here?’ And then he decided that no, Fingon was being unreasonable, so he had to devise an appropriate punishment. He knew from experience how demoralizing and humiliating violent rape could be, so he chose that. He doesn’t think him having sex with Fingon is rape, but this time he knew it was and he knew he was going to hurt Fingon that way deliberately. He wasn’t sure he could get it up for it, so he made sure he would be able to.

Maedhros sometimes is even inspired by his own imprisonment. He never goes as far as Morgoth, though, so he doesn’t believe it’s the same thing. Fingon has compared him and Morgoth before and it has enraged Maedhros.

Fingon will be too weak to resist Maedhros at first after his punishment, but he will keep on fighting. He will be pretty traumatized and often Maedhros just putting his hands on his throat as a warning will be enough to get him to stop. Sometimes it won’t be enough, so Maedhros will actually do it again. Maybe not with the same severity, but still enough to incapacitate Fingon.

If Fingon is rescued, Fingolfin is going to be guilt-ridden, knowing that his son was within his reach and yet he let him suffer for so long, welcomed his torturer with kindness, not even guessing that he was horribly abusing his son. Fingolfin likes Maedhros very much and treats him almost like a son, so it is going to be a huge shock for him.

Thank you and outofangband for your kind words. I usually don’t post such things on my Ao3, but I did make a whump blog a while ago and abandoned it promptly. Maybe I should return to it.

Oh wow, Maedhros, how do you not get that enslaving your boyfriend means he'll break up with you? (To be fair, he has the same problem in my rape magic slavery au.) I get why Fingon wouldn't want to tell Maedhros to his face though; Fingon initially has one occasionally positive social contact in Maedhros, and that goes down to zero when Maedhros is mad at him.

Maedhros justifying his actions is great. "If I was enjoying hurting Fingon, that would mean I was evil / a sadist. Since I don't enjoy it, the pain must be for his own good."

I bet Fingon knows a little bit of how much worse it could be. He comforted Maedhros after Angband, and presumably talked him down after nightmares. So Fingon is aware that Maedhros knows all sorts of terrible, painful ways to torture an elf, and is choosing not to use them on Fingon. Or at least only use less extreme versions - I wonder if Fingon knows enough to recognize those when they happen?

Maedhros got so close to actually experiencing guilt about his actions for a moment thinking about Fingon's attack. Then decided that everything was Fingond fault after all, and that he needed to make Fingon understand that actions have consequences. Choosing to rape Fingon specifically to demoralize him, not because Maedhros is turned on by violence, is absolutely perfect. He’s very much thinking of Fingon as a project to be managed, more than a lover or partner, isn’t he?

And Fingolfin’s reaction if this ever comes out would be so amazing. Perhaps Fingon breaks out and makes it way to Dorthonion, the closest non-Feanorian settlement of Noldor. Angrod and Aegnor a message saying that Fingon is alive, but refusing to say anything about what happened to him. (Fingon is worried they’ll decide to give him back or keep him themselves, once the idea is out there.) After the teary reunion, Fingon would finally admit it to Fingolfin. Fingolfin would be chocked and horrified, and wonder what torments Fingon was suffering while Fingolfin was playing chess with Maedhros and reminiscing with him about Valinor. (Then the Noldor get a different Second Kinslaying, as Fingolfin demands the execution of Maedhros, who has a fortress full of people who either believe Fingon is lying or believe Maedhros was justified.)

I would just like to egg you on for returning to your whump blog. This is a fascinating idea, and I’d love to see more! (And/or you can reblog a bunch of other people’s whump fic; it’s your blog)

#fucking finwions answers #fingon/maedhros strangulation au #let me know if you want a different name for you au or your asks #also is Fingolfin thought of Maedhros like a son there's also the matter of the succession #I know Turgon is officially still in line for the throne but nobody can find him - or is even sure he's alive #so Fingolfin needs an heir and he might - very delicately - suggest that Maedhros had stepped /back/ not stepped /down/

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swanmaids · 2 years ago

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survival

survival; noun: the state or fact of continuing to live or exist, typically in spite of an accident, ordeal, or difficult circumstances.

for @finweanladiesweek day 4: idril.

tw: amputation, parent death, animal death, child endangerment, ice-related suffering

1034 words.

Idril Silverfoot knew something of survival. At six, she was one of thirty-six children to set foot onto the Grinding Ice, and at thirty-three she became one of five of those then- almost grown children still alive to reach Beleriand.

The Ice was cruel to the Host of Fingolfin. Idril watched as it snatched away and swallowed up her childhood playmates, whittling them down one by one, sometimes two by two. She watched as her father’s face hollowed out until he resembled nothing so much as a living wraith. She watched as her mother fell, and sank, and died. She watched, and wept, and even then swore to herself that she would survive. Elenwë had given her life for her daughter. Idril would make that sacrifice matter. Idril- no matter her youth, no matter the Doom- would not die in this frozen, forsaken desert.

And so, Idril lived in part because she willed it. Cold and dark and hunger were her closest companions, and her thoughts each day were only of how to defeat them. She stripped the corpses of her friends for their furs. She used her Uncle Finrod’s prized jewels of Valinor to light her way. She slept inside the belly of a dead horse, and the next day ate its flesh. After, some of the bolder Green and Grey-Elves who had followed her father to Gondolin would ask her, how did you feel? You must have been so angry, you must have despaired? Idril would respond, perplexed, how did I feel? Cold, and tired, and hungry, and cold. There was no room to feel anything else.

Idril survived also because of the will of others. When her fall through the ice alongside her mother turned her legs black from feet to calves, her grandfather tied a seal-gut tourniquet around her knees and in one stroke each, cut them off. For the remainder of the journey, she was carried between her father and aunts and uncles. Much later it occurred to her, with a brutal practicality, that it would have made more sense for the Host to leave her behind to die. The odds for any elven child on the Ice were slim. For one with no feet, they were practically non-existent. But her family willed her to live, and Idril lived to become Idril Silverfoot, when she made it to the shores of Lake Mithrim and newly-freed Maedhros ordered his crafty younger brother to create her first new legs.

The Ice therefore taught Idril Silverfoot two valuable lessons about survival. In order to surmount insurmountable odds, one must trust in others, and trust in oneself. She kept these lessons close to her heart, for she felt somehow that she would need them again, though she could not at first say why. But she repeated them to herself all the same.

That was why, years later when her father could not hear her husband’s warnings and her cousin returned from his “expedition” changed in a way she could not describe but did not like and she felt the icy finger of Doom trail down her spine and turn her insides glacier-cold, she stamped down on her fear with her steel feet and made a plan. Set your heart to survive and trust yourself. Idril gathered Tuor and Voronwë, Glorfindel and Ecthelion and Rôg; and spoke to them in secret of child-sized mail for her son and city-wide tunnels for her people. Trust in the strength and will of others. Idril fell into bed each night with aching muscles and clay still under her nails, too exhausted to worry if the city would fall while it slept. Her dreams ceased to feature ice, and instead were of fire and falling.

As it turned out, she had been right all along.

She survived. She could not save her father, but she saved her family. She carried her son out of the city through her tunnel, on legs her dead cousin had made, and brushed ash and soot out of his hair as she walked. Eärendil, she found, was very much like his mother in a crisis. He held on to her quietly and did not fuss or cry, not in his mother’s arms, or in his father’s, or on his own feet. Indeed, he did not cry once on the road to Sirion- except in his sleep. Her husband and Voronwë, both relatively uninjured, brought up the rear of their refugee train.

The walk to Sirion was not much like the walk to Beleriand. Now, she carried her own child, instead of being carried herself, and her greatest battle was with the ash that fell like neverending rain, not the cold. But the hunger and exhaustion were as she remembered. Their party dwindling down as members succumbed to both was familiar too. But she made it to Sirion, and by the grace of a shipwright and a child-queen, those who remained of her people had a place to live.

If Eärendil was alike to Idril, Elwing was even more so. A little girl facing down mighty Doom, simply because she had no choice but to face it, a survivor simply because she had to be. Idril immediately liked her immensely. Elwing liked her too- and she liked her son even more. The two half-mortals reminded Idril so much of her and Tuor that sometimes it was hard to look at them for too long, for Tuor was wholly mortal, and not getting younger, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

No.

There was one thing she could do to stop it.

To attempt the journey to Aman with her mortal husband was mad. They would both die in the crossing. But Idril should have died on the Ice. She should have died in the Fall. Instead, she had stared down her Doom, and her Doom had blinked first. What did she have left to fear? She had set her head and heart to the task. She had steadfast Tuor and Voronwë with her on the waves, and stout-hearted Eärendil and Elwing on the shore.

Idril Silverfoot was going to write herself out of her family’s tragedy, once and for all.

#my post #my fic #idril #finweanladiesweek #userlyndeth #tuserosie #the silm

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tanoraqui · 3 years ago

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@mandaloriandy said: Hmmm. I wonder how those numbers would change if you included the numbers that would join/leave if various other prominent elves supported/opposed said leaders? For example, Maedhros on his own polls poorly, and Finarfin doesn’t do great among the Noldor, but Finarfin-supported-by-Maedhros probably comes close to beating Fingolfin

re: this post (including tags)

for sure! The way I see it, respondents are ranking the subjects of the questions on 3 qualities, to varying degrees captured by the questions:

Common Sense: are they sensible and/or ethically upstanding?

Competence: are they capable of doing this thing?

Were They There: do they understand my (traumatic) experiences? Are we bonded by culture and/or survival?

The survey consisted of first questions establishing where the answerer is coming from - to what faction (and subfaction) were they born? To which do they belong now? Where were they born, when were they born, where do they live now? If they were born in Arda, when did they come to Aman? Did they go back and return? If they were born in Aman, did they go to Arda? Have they died? If so, when, of what cause, and what faction were they with at the time?

Demographics established, the bulk of the survey was dedicated to variations on,

Would you follow [X King or Crown Prince*] into [Y Activity] for... (check all that apply): [ ] A very bad reason [ ] A bad reason [ ] A reason about which I feel neutral [ ] A good reason [ ] A very good reason

"Y Activity" ranged from things like "on a hunt", "grocery store trip", and "big project to expand the Alqualondë quays" to "fight a mid-level dragon", "return to Arda", and "large-scale assault on Taniquetil." All of these questions (and more) were asked about Ingwë, Ingwion, Finwê, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Maedhros, Fingon, Turgon, Finrod, Galadriel**, Gil-galad, Olwë, [Olwë's son], and Thingol.

* It was at first just those who were or had been Kings, but that was even more disproportionately Noldor (because they kept dying), so for political politeness Ingwion and the Olwion were added.

** Someone put Galadriel on the list and if anyone thought to question it, they didn't say so aloud

(It was such a long survey because a) elves, being immortal, have a much higher tolerance for such things than Men do, and b) the pollsters really wanted to cushion the more...extreme questions with plenty of less exciting (though still statistically interesting!) questions.)

The question actually did a pretty good job of implicitly recording survey-takers' perceptions of the subjects' Common Sense, with the division of how good a reason is needed. "Good" and "bad" reasons are up to the survey-takers' perceptions, though there was a later fill-in-the-blank question inviting definitions. The best example is Maedhros having a surprisingly high % of people - specifically, a majority of those who followed Fëanor to Arda, no matter what happened to them afterward - willing to follow him into dire and/or Valar-defying situations, but almost only for "very good" reason, where all others have some mix of mostly "very good" and "good"for those questions. This is because next to nobody, no matter what their allegiance, believes Maedhros uses either common sense or any amount of moral ethics in choosing the wars he wages, but those who shared a blood-soaked continent with him for some amount of 500 years all recognize that he's Competent at those wars.

A good contrast is Finarfin. Across the board, he's scoring pretty well for Common Sense/Ethics - he followed his brother to avenge their father until it became explicitly against the will of the Vala, at which point he turned around, asked forgiveness, and ruled his remaining people well for many hundred years (or millennia - I'm imagining that when the Valar let the living return to Tol Eressea after the War of Wrath, they also started letting the previously Doomed dead out of Mandos - all but the Oath-takers themselves, who are there to this day. Idk how Finarfin and Fingolfin then sorted out the Noldor throne but I'm sure it was amicable.)

So, Finarfin is well-regarded as someone to follow in general, and certainly very scored well on the less dire situation-questions. He also presumably acquitted himself well enough in the War of Wrath (I don't know if we know?). so he gets Competence points for that. Actually, I probably should've given him a higher % of support in the original post; I forgot that the War of Wrath took 40 whole years.

That said, Fingolfin still scores higher with the Noldor specifically (and probably the Silvans), for 2 reasons:

Competence points for presiding over the Siege of Angband and the Long Peace, and also for being the only person to personally 1v1 Morgoth, including permanently wounding him. Actually this is universally recognized as Fucking Badass.

the Were They There quality: across the board, with survey-takers from every faction on questions about every monarch on the list, people give more support for everything from grocery trips to active rebellion to those who are from their people and have shared their timeline of experiences, in Eastern and Western lands. But the influence of Were They There on the answers of survey-takers is significantly strongest among those who spent the majority of the First Age Years of the Trees in Arda. Whether they arrived by boat or ice or were there already - those distinctions matter, but for some, even after kinslayings, they matter less than whether or not you were there at all. Because even if you came for the War of Wrath, you just don't get it otherwise. You just don't. You haven't watched your friends die abruptly in blood and flames and your Edain neighbors die year by year of incomprehensible age. You haven't felt the cold wind from Angband in the north even in the brightest days of the Siege. You haven't somehow found joy in living anyway. You don't get it, you weren't there.

The other notable thing this survey turns up is the surprising number of people, in late Third Age Aman, who write "get that hotheaded idiot and his sons out of Mandos" in the unrequired short-answer question as an example of a "neutral to me" or even "good" reason to do something. Forgiveness accrues over time, and with everyone else (well enough in mind and heart) returned, the continued imprisonment of Fëanor and his sons starts to feel unjust.

#the silmarillion #ficlet #my fic #i guess #eldar #mandaloriandy

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the-quiet-fire-of-defiance · 4 years ago

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I have some thoughts, sometimes, about a universe where Pengolodh the unreliable narrator strikes again.

Fingolfin's host sees the ships burning and has thirty years of pain and awfulness to stew in disgust and fury. If they get to Beleriand and someone from Feanor's host tries to tell them something like "oh we didn't burn the ships, [other reason for big naval fire] happened!" then Fingolfin's host is never going to ever accept that.

They'd think it's the notoriously morally corrupt Feanorians telling lies & trying to manipulate people again, to cover their own asses or not take responsibility for their actions or try to stop the Icy Bois from being mad at them. It's clearly not true.

Then we have everything that happens in the first age, and all the accounts get confused and mixed anyway, and by the end almost all the feanorian followers are dead and no one is going to start being a feanorian apologist bc they will literally immediately get murdered. Like many other things in the first age, only one version of events survives, and it's not necessarily the true one.

"Feanor totally deliberately did an evil thing and set all the shops on fire and his son with them and he laughed while he did it" does smell a bit of anti-Feanorian propaganda, even though it does also completely make sense in canon given the direction Feanor went in. But its eaually plausible to argue that ideas of Feanor as an irredeemable villain totally blew up after the first age, and this was one of them! It would also explain the competing narratives about Amrod's fate if it was another rumour that sprung up out out of anti-Feanorian sentiment.

So what actually happened? Two takes.

1: something else caused the ships to catch fire. It's also entirely plausible that they weren't in good enough condition to sail back after the absolute bashing Uinen, Ossë & Ulmo put them through in the aftermath of the First Kinslaying. I don't like this one as much, because it makes the Feanorians completely blameless in the ship burning, which I think is boring and unrealistic and somewhat of a cop out. But it's fun to play with lots of alternate ideas of canon.

2: I like the idea of the timeline being a bit wrong; it's all dark, there's no days, the host of Fingolfin has no way of knowing how long it took the Feanorians to sail to Beleriand or how long they were there before the fire became visible. And I think the rest happened in quick succession;

they land, fight alongside Cirdan's people as in canon

Maedhros: can we send the boats back now? What about Fingon? Uh, I mean, our host and supplies and army I'm thinking totally strategically here

but Feanor is high on the victory of battle and there's fire in his blood, he wants to press onwards, he doesn't want to be stuck with the boring stuff of ship supplies and sending them back for his awful half brother.

and what if he can defeat morgoth without fingolfin

so fairly soon afterwards, the battle against Morgoth's larger forces is fought.

Feanor dies. "even in the hour of his death," Maitimo goes to parlay and is captured, his whole host slain.

The effect that this has had on the entire Feanorian host is- awful.

They've stepped from a deathless paradise where they thought they knew grief and darkness but they didn't, to a land where your might and your story arc don't matter, because anyone can die.

In the bright clarity of death, Feanor knows the Noldor assault is hopeless and doomed. Maedhros goes to the parlay because maybe they can't get through by military might but if there's any chance they can win this and fulfill the oath that they're just now realizing they swore without knowing the truth of the world, or of doom, he has to take it he has to try- but he fails too.

This world is terrible beyond Maglor's darkest dreams. He sees that there's no hope, he's consumed by despair, and if he can save anyone at all...

He puts the ships to flame.

Go back, he means, go back while you can, go back and live.

They don't.

#quiet rambles #losgar #pengolodh the unreliable narrator #i was writing a fic about this

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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On Doriathrin Isolationism

I’ve seen a fair number of takes in the Silm fandom on the topic of either “the Noldor are horrible imperialists” or “the Sindar are horrible isolationists”, so I thought it would be interesting to take a closer look at Doriathrin policy.

Firstly, how isolationist are they, following the creation of the Girdle of Melian? They still have close relations with the Laiquendi of Ossiriand, and some of them come to Doriath. They still have close relations with Círdan and are in communication with him. They’re fairly close with the children of Finarfin: Galadriel lives in Doriath, the others visit, Finrod is close enough with Thingol to act as an intermediary between him and the Haladin, and Thingol is the one who tells Finrod of the location for Nargothrond. The dwarves continue travelling to Doriath, and trading, and living there for long periods to do commissioned craft-work, through long periods of the First Age, even after the Nirnaeth - the Nauglamír Incident could never have happened if not for that. All these people can pass freely into Doriath. So we’re not talking about Doriath cutting itself off from the rest of the world, not by any means. We’re talking specifically about its relations with three groups: 1) the Fingolfinian and Fëanorian Noldor; 2) the Edain; and 3) the Northern Sindar.

Every time I try to write this post it gets really long, so here I’m going to focus on Doriath’s relationship with the first and third groups, other Elves, and leave the Edain for a separate post.

Doriath and the Northern Sindar

Thingol’s attitude towards this group is the least excusable, and something I wasn’t aware of until I got my hands on a copy of The Peoples of Middle-earth (HoME Vol. 12):

[Thingol] had small love for the Northern Sindar who had in regions near to Angband come under the dominion of Morgoth, and were accused of sometimes entering his service and providing him with spies. The Sindarin used by the Sons of Fëanor also was of the Northern dialect; and they were hated in Doriath.

Now, to be clear, Thingol is wrong about the Northern Sindar being shifty. They’re the ones more commonly described in The Silmarillion as the grey-elves of Hithlum. They make up a substantial portion of the people of Gondolin. They include Annael and his people, who raise Tuor. (Presumably others live in, or moved to, East Beleriand along with the Fëanorians, as the Fëanorians speak their tongue.)

Here is what I think probably happened. We have statements in The Silmarillion that Morgoth captured elves when he could, and that:

“The Noldor feared most the treachery of those of their own kin, who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of these for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad, but their wills were chained to his, and they strayed only to com back to him again; therefore if any of his captives escaped in truth, and returned to their own people, they had little welcome, and wandered alone outlawed and desperate”.

If Morgoth also captured some of the Northern Sindar - who, living closer to Angband, would be more at risk of this than Doriathrim, Falathrim, or Laiquendi - there could, as with later Noldor prisoners, have been some who were under his control and attacked and betrayed other elves. The Doriathrin Sindar, living further from Angband, might have been unaware of their capture, conflated this with deliberate and willful treachery, and so mistrusted the Northern Sindar.

That does not excuse Thingol’s attitude. He is stereotyping, and he is claiming kingship of all Beleriand while writing off a substantial portion of his own people, and this is unacceptable. One cannot claim rule of a people while simultaneously disdaining them and forswearing respinsibility for them. It is little surprise than the Northern Sindar largely joined themselves with various groups of Noldor and would have been glad of their arrival.

Doriath and the Noldor

This case is more complicated. I don’t like conflations of Thingol’s attitude towards the Fingolfinian and Fëanorian Noldor - or the Edain, for that matter - with anti-immigration sentiment. The basic concept of immigration is that you want to go to another country and live as a member of that country. When you enter an existing realm, claim its territory as your own, set up your own government, and justify it on the basis of “you’re not militarily able to stop us” that is not immigration. That is called an invasion, or annexation, or something of the sort. (Even if the realm in question is currently under invasion by enemies! Imagine if the British, after D-Day, had tried to annex half of France.)

(I will also note here that Thingol did not abandon the rest of the people of Beleriand prior to the Noldor’s arrival. The First Battle was the Doriathrim fighting alongside the Laiquendi. When Morgoth’s invasion became too large to fight on every front, the creation of the Girdle was the right choice. When assaulted by an overwhelming enemy force, the best, and indeed only militarily possible, option may be to withdraw as many of your people as possible to your fortress (as Thingol does - many of the Laiquendi and as many as possible of the grey-elves of Western Beleriand are evacuated to Doriath) and buckle down for a siege.)

And the Noldor didn’t come with the Sindar’s benefit in mind. (As I have noted before, they were not even away of Angband’s existence. The Return was focused on fighting one very dangerous individual, regaining the Silmarils, and setting up realms in - if we’re being generous to the Noldor - presumably unoccupied territory. If we’re not being generous, the aim can equally well be read as setting themselves up as the rulers of the elves of Middle-earth. If their goal, or even a tiny part of their goal, was “rescue the Sindar”, then they could have pitched that to Olwë to get him on board - “help us rescue your brother from Morgoth” is a way stronger argument than “you owe us, you cultureless barbarians”.)

So, given that they’re annexing his territory without even considering that it might be someone else’s territory, it’s very understandable that Thingol isn’t pleased by the Noldor.

On the other hand, Beleriand does benefit from the Noldor’s presence. Maedhros is quite correct when he points out that Thingol’s alternative to having the Nolder in northern Beleriand would be having orcs there [ironically, the Fëanorians do more harm to Doriath than orcs ever do, but that’s far in the future]. So given that the Sindar and Noldor have a common and very dangerous enemy, Thingol should at least try to work wth them. His deliberate isolation from the Noldor even prior to finding out about the Kinslaying comes across as prideful and petty. I am thinking particular of the absolutely minimal Doriathrin participation in Mereth Aderthad, when Fingolfin was specifically seeking to build a Beleriand-wide alliance, something that was in all their interests; and, addtionally, of not allowing the Nolofinwëans into Doriath. It automatically precludes any high-level negotiations or, just as importantly, any amount of in-person interaction that could lead to greater understanding. I can understand Thingol’s attitude towards Mereth Aderthad on some level - Fingolfin is in effect acting as though he is High King of Beleriand, something Thingol would resent - but it is nonetheless shortsighted.

It’s also worth noting, though, that acting with more tact and treating Thingol as King of Beleriand - as in fact he was throughout the Ages of the Stars - would not necessarily have posed any great difficulty or impeded Noldoran autonomy in decision-making in northern Beleriand. Notably, Thingol is on good terms with Finrod, gives him the location for building Nargothrond, and has no problems with him setting up a realm governing a large swath of West Beleriand. And yes, being relatives doesn’t hurt, but what stands out in this relationship is that Finrod treats Thingol with respect. He understand that Thingol knows more about Beleriand than him, and asks advice; when the Edain arrive, he’s the only one of the Noldor to consult with Thingol on his decisions (and that willingness to consult is what gets Thingol to agree to the Haladin settling in Brethil). And none of this prevents Finrod, or Orodreth after him, from having autonomy from Doriath in their decisions as lords of Nargothrond.

However, another interesting point is that Thingol’s early attitude towards the Noldor is not driven only by resentment of their infringements on his authority, but also by outright mistrust that doesn’t seem to be clearly grounded. Note that, after Galadriel tells Melian about Morgoth’s slaying of Finwë and theft of the Silmarils (which is well after Mereth Aderthad), Melian and Thingol talk, and Thingol says of the Noldor, “Yet all the more sure shall they be as allies against Morgoth, with whom it is not now to be thought they shall ever make treaty.” [Emphasis mine.] Which means that prior to this, he was genuinely worried about the Noldor allying with Morgoth! To paraphase The Order of the Stick, Thingol took Improved Paranoia several levels ago. (But he always seems to be paranoid about the wrong things. The Fëanorians are a threat, but not because of any possible league with Morgoth. Likewise, he is hostile to Beren because of dreams of a Man bringing doom to Doriath, but Thingol’s death and the first destruction of Doriath is instead set off by the actions of Húrin in bringing the cursed Nauglamír.)

So on the whole, neither the Noldor nor Thingol are behaving ideally in their early relations. After Thingol learns about Alqualondë, I find his hostility - especially to the Fëanorians - very warranted. These aren’t some distant, once-related group of elves, these are his brother’s people! And “willing to betray and attack their friends” is not a quality anyone is looking for in an ally, nor something that is going to lead to trust.

This also carries over to everything relating to the Leithian and the Silmaril. (Again, it is important to note with respect to the Leithain that Thingol states outright, after giving Beren the quest that he has zero expectation of - or desire for - Beren to obtain the Silmaril. It’s a combination suicide mission and “when pigs fly” statement, and most people who say “when pigs fly” aren’t aiming at the invention of animatronic flying pigs.) In a theoretical world where the Kinslaying didn’t happen and the Fëanorians had no involvement in the Quest of the Silmaril, they might have had a good shot at negotiating for it! (A much better shot than they had at getting it out of Angband, which they never even tried.) But of course Thingol would have no interest in handing it over to the people who, on top of the Kinslaying, also 1) betrayed his nephew and sent him to his death [that’s kind of on you as well, Elu], 2) kidnapped and attempted to rape his daughter; and 3) attempted to murder his daughter. And there should not be any reasonable expectation that he ought to do so! By their actions, the Fëanorians have forfeited any right to demand anything at all from Thingol, or from Beren and Lúthien, or from their descendents.

(This is, in fact, the very point made in the Doom of Mandos: their oath shall drive them and yet betray them. Every Fëanorian action driven by the oath is counterproductive to them obtaining any of the Silmarils.)

Conclusion

In short:

- Yes, the Noldor are imperialist in their goals, but in they end they’re not ruling anyone who isn’t willing to be ruled by them. And the Northern Sindar who are part of their realms are people who Thingol had explicitly written off, which doesn’t reflect well on him.

- Doriath is not as isolationist as it is often portrayed and has close relations with many of the peoples in Beleriand. It also does participate in the wars against Morgoth (I’ll go into that in more detail in my Edain post). And they have valid grievances against the Fëanorians. However, Thingol’s deliberate snubbing of the FIngolfinian Noldor (and even before he knew about the Kinslaying), despite the evident benefits of planning a common defense of Beleriand, is selfish and petty.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #doriath #thingol #sindar #noldor #beren and luthien #sons of fëanor

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ladyespera · 3 years ago

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hm... thoughts on the Silm?

(I feel like I need to apologize to you for this... anti-honesty is far too amusing to me whoops)

Oh boy! I sure was afraid somebody was going to ask me about this.

Honestly, my first pass through the Silm was a breeze, but on a re-read it felt terribly dull and boring. None of the characters feel sufficiently tragic or fleshed-out enough, and Fëanor really is the worst offender here. I had to roll my eyes when he betrayed his brother and got himself and all his sons killed through his super smartly worded Oath--like, seriously, he's so weak he can't even take on a whole herd of Balrogs? AND DON'T GET EVEN GET ME STARTED ON FINGOLFIN. Pathetic, weak, totally unepic, his eyes don't even sparkle, killed off like nothing *snaps fingers* and for what? His son Fingon is no thoughts head empty stupid and his nephew Finrod is ugly and selfish (and Finrod's father Finarfin is even worse). Maglor and Maedhros are totally unsympathetic - after all their kinslaying, I'm just supposed to accept their redemption when they adopt the kids of the lady they tried to murder? Speaking of the kids, Elrond this, Elrond that - Elrond Half-Elven never did anything constructive and he doesn't even seem to like men, smh. Turgon's idea for a hidden city was stupid and he deserves all the fandom hate, as does his punk sister-son, Maeglin. Chuck that boy off the wall!!!! OH and the MEN - always so many stories about all the ✨ tragic ✨ bros. Like seriously, why on earth should I feel bad for somebody who was completely at fault for killing their bff and marrying their sister? And Beren just got all those cool moments and Lúthien had to be the damsel in distress? Sickening. Stayed only for the Glorfindel cameo, but even he's on thin ice (haha get it? ice? the Helcaraxë wasn't even that big of a deal!! they could have just turned back!!). Also if you think the eagles showing up in LOTR is bad, well, the AUDACITY of THIS BOOK!!! I simply couldn't stand how the eagles showed up as total deus ex machinas literally every single time the heroes are in distress. Honestly, Melkor had the right idea. The Valar are 100% at fault for EVERYTHING in this book. And Melkor's servant - Thauron or Anatar or Miron or something - is totally boring here - LOTR Sauron is so much more cool with his 100% covered armor. I highly don't recommend this book! It adds zero depth or context to LOTR and honestly the Amazon show is coming out soon anyways so it won't matter, you can just watch that.

anti-honesty hour: Ask me anything and I will respond with blatant lies.

#tolkien #silmarillion #anti-honesty hour #ask games #answered asks #swinging-stars-from-satellites #melkor ghost wrote this

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arofili · 3 years ago

Text

Three Houses of the Edain Edit Series: Appendix B

Continued from Appendix A. This section will contain information on the House of Hador.

~~~

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Appendix A: House of Bëor Appendix B: House of Hador (you are here!) Appendix C: House of Haleth, Drúedain

~~~

HOUSE OF HADOR

Note: With regard to name translations, I took inspiration from this article; specifically, I used some of the suggestions for name meanings of the early Hadorians and assigned them to elements in my Taliska glossary (see Appendix A).

~~~

Marach ft. Marach, Legen (OC), Malach Aradan, Imlach It is canon that while they were the third House to enter Beleriand, Marach’s people were originally in the lead; also canon is the attitude of the Green-elves toward them and Marach’s decision to remain in Estolad even though his son led many of his people further west. Since Imlach’s son Amlach is still in Estolad during the time of dissent, it is highly probable (though not explicitly stated afaik) that Imlach remained with his father. Everything else is headcanon. Also, Marach is trans because I said so <3

Imlach ft. Imlach, Amar (OC), Amlach The basic structure of this story is canon: Malach remained in Estolad; Amlach was a dissenter who was impersonated and became an elf-friend in his anger at the deception, entering into Maedhros’ service. I added a lot of details to flesh out the story, especially Amlach’s confusing night in the forest. I think Sauron (or one of his servants) stranded him in the woods and stole his likeness, though I doubt Amlach ever really figured out exactly what happened.

Malach Aradan ft. Malach Aradan, Zimrahin Meldis, Adanel, Magor Malach did enter Fingolfin’s service, and the basic details of his familial relationship are canon. Much of the rest of this is headcanon, however.

Magor ft. Magor, Amathal (OC), Hathol, Thevril (OC), Hador Lórindol We don’t know much about Magor or Hathol; the only canonical detail here is that Magor did move his people away from Hithlum and served no elf lord (though we don’t have details on why). Everything else is headcanon.

Hador Lórindol ft. Hador Lórindol, Gildis, Glóredhel, Galdor of Dor-lómin, Gundor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished, and everything about Gildis other than her name is headcanon. Gundor’s life is also mostly headcanon, though the manner of his death is canon; I’ll go into his story soon.

Gundor ft. Gundor, Angreneth (OC), Indor, Padrion (OC), Aerin, Peleg We don’t know anything about Gundor other than the manner of his death; we also don’t know how Aerin is related to Húrin, so I decided to expand on both of those unknowns with the same story. Aerin’s father is said to be Indor, who is elsewhere said to be the father of Peleg (who was himself the father of Tuor in an early draft), so I made him the son of Gundor. Since Peleg obviously can’t be Tuor’s father anymore, I killed him off at the Nírnaeth...just like Huor, oops. I think Brodda took Aerin to wife before Morwen disappeared, but I couldn’t figure out how to word that concisely, so I left it kind of vague/misleading in the caption. Oh well.

Galdor of Dor-lómin ft. Galdor of Dor-lómin, Hareth, Húrin Thalion, Huor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished to give Hareth a bit of personality. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo, used by Tuor in his song “The Horns of Ylmir.”

Húrin Thalion ft. Húrin Thalion, Morwen Eledhwen, Túrin Turambar, Beleg Cúthalion, Urwen Lalaith, Niënor Níniel Boy howdy this is a long one! It’s almost entirely canon, though I’ve added some embellishments here and there. Beleg is included because he and Túrin were definitely married (at least by elven standards); I’ll go more into that, and the details of Túrin’s time with the Gaurwaith, in a future edit, but for now I settled just using the gayest possible language. Same deal for his time in Nargothrond.

Huor ft. Huor, Rían, Tuor Eladar We don’t know that Galdor took an arrow specifically to the eye, but I thought it would be poetic if both he and Huor died in the same manner so I added that detail to the canon that Galdor was killed by an arrow. The rest of this is pretty much all canon, with some embellishments. Tuor’s story will continue in another edit.

Tuor Eladar ft. Tuor Eladar, Idril Celebrindal, Eärendil Ardamírë The meat of this story is canon, but I’ve added in some of my headcanons as well. I definitely embellished Annael’s departure from Mithrim to show my perspective on his decision to leave Tuor behind (I really do think he thought Tuor was dead or as good as it, and that as a leader he had the responsibility to keep the rest of his people safe). I’m a little foggy on why Tuor was already so obsessed with Gondolin when he met Gelmir and Arminas, because why would the Sindar of Mithrim be so excited about a Noldorin city? I guess maybe they had friends from way back when who went with Turgon? Or maybe they just wished they could be “safe” like the Gondolindrim were, idk. I was kind of vague there. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo; Yssion is a Sindarin name for Ossë (the other one is Gaerys, which I think sounds cooler but isn’t as close to a literal Sindarization as Yssion). The bit about Voronwë teaching Tuor Quenya on the road is headcanon, but I think it makes a lot of sense. Telpevontál is my Quenya translation of Celebrindal. I skimmed and skipped a lot of Tuor’s time in Gondolin, since I went over that in another edit. “The Horns of Ylmir” is a real song that Tolkien wrote (Adele McAllister has a cover of it); I added the bit about it triggering Idril’s foresight, though the song is absolutely foreshadowing no matter how you look at it. Eärendil did canonically get married the same year that Tuor and Idril left for Valinor; we don’t have much info on that otherwise, so I made it as bittersweet as possible. The bit about the Elessar is a lot of convoluted headcanon in my attempt to make sense of its 3 bajillion different origin stories. The name Ardamírë is prophetic because, you know, the whole Silmaril thing, but I liked the idea that Idril made the connection with the Elessar before the Silmaril came into the picture. All we know about Idril and Tuor’s fates in canon is that people ~believe~ they made it to Aman and that Tuor was counted as an elf, but that last bit never sat right with me since elsewhere it’s very clearly stated that the Gift of Men is not something that can be refused or taken away. The alternate legend is my own headcanon for what happened to them (I also think they had more peredhil kiddos); in my mind, the Valar let Tuor live the rest of his days in Valinor (all 500 years of them, I just think it’s poetic and connected to his grandson Elros’ fate) before he died peacefully and willingly, able to get closure with Idril before he went.

Storytellers ft. Eltas, Dírhaval Eltas is a character from the Book of Lost Tales, who tells Eriol the “Tale of Turambar.” Supposedly, he once lived in Hísilómë (Hithlum) and came to Tol Eressëa and the Cottage of Lost Play by the Straight Road. That story does not add up at all when you look at it through the lens of Tolkien’s later Legendarium, so I took the name and his origins in Hithlum and crafted an entirely different story for him. Dírhaval is canonically the poet who wrote the Narn i Chîn Húrin; he only wrote that one poem because he was killed at the Third Kinslaying before he could finish any of the other Great Tales like Narn i Leithian (The Lay of Leithian; from his Tolkien Gateway article I think that’s what he was working on after CoH? but I’m not totally sure. But Tolkien never finished the Leithian either, so I think it’s poetic to have Dírhaval do the same). Andvír was one of his sources in canon, I added in the others (Eltas, Nellas, Celebrimbor, Glírhuin), though it was conceivable (and canon, in Nellas’ case) that they knew Túrin enough to report his story (though we don’t know anything in canon about Nellas’ fate). These name translations are my own; I thought “sitting man” worked as a meaning for Dírhaval since I imagine that storytellers like him were known as folk who sat around a lot writing or telling tales.

Servants of Morwen ft. Morwen Eledhwen, Gethron, Grithnir, Ragnir the Blind, Sador Labadal Morwen sending her servants to talk to the elves is headcanon, and so is Gethron knowing some Sindarin, though I think that makes sense considering he did canonically travel across Beleriand and was the one who spoke to Thingol when they arrived in Doriath. We don’t know anything in canon about Ragnir except that he was blind. Sador’s story is canon, though I have added some embellishments here and there. Aside from Sador and Morwen, these name translations are all my own and extremely dubious, but I did my best.

Companions of Húrin ft. Húrin Thalion, Asgon, Ragnir the Outlaw, Dringoth (OC), Dimaethor (OC), Negenor (OC), Tondir (OC), Haedirn (OC), Orthelron (OC) This edit tells the beginning part of “The Wanderings of Húrin,” an unfinished manuscript that was cut from the final published Silmarillion. Húrin’s role in this tale is canon up through his departure from Brethil (that was where Tolkien left off); the way that he left his companions a final time is my headcanon. Asgon and Ragnir are the only names of his companions we know from canon; Asgon’s role as a former outlaw who had known Túrin when he returned to Dor-lómin and started a rebellion is canon, and Ragnir’s pessimism (asking to go home) and his relative youth is also from canon. Everything else about these outlaws is my headcanon, including my reasons for why they weren’t present at the Nírnaeth where literally all the able-bodied men of the House of Hador had perished (except for Húrin). Húrin did go to Nargothrond after Brethil, but I made up everything past that point. We know that there were some Edain at the Havens of Sirion (and presumably there were Men present in the War of Wrath that Elros mingled with before becoming their King), so I thought this could be a way for the remnant of the Haladin (and some of the House of Hador) to get there. I’ll go over the rest of ��The Wanderings of Húrin” in future edits, when we get to the relevant Haladin characters.

Gaurwaith ft. Neithan, Beleg Cúthalion, Forweg, Andróg, Andvír, Algund, Ulrad, Orleg, Blodren This is largely a canon-compliant overview of Túrin’s life among the outlaws. The stories of Forweg and Andróg (and Beleg and Túrin/Neithan) are canon (though I did take that extra step and marry off Túrin and Beleg). Orleg’s story is canon, though it’s one that I had overlooked on my various readthroughs of Túrin’s Silm chapter & CoH. Algund and Ulrad’s stories are presented in a slightly tweaked/condensed form; Andvír’s origins as the son of Andróg (??? when did he have a son and why is it never mentioned in the main story???) are canon but (as expressed in parentheses) rather baffling, so I didn’t really emphasize him. Blodren is a character who isn’t in the later drafts of this story; he was an Easterling who was tortured by Morgoth because he “withstood Uldor the Accursed,” and eventually turned into a spy for Morgoth. (As with all Easterling names, his etymology is entirely made up.) He “served Túrin faithfully for two years” before fulfilling the role later taken up by Mîm and betraying the Gaurwaith to the orcs. He was killed by a “chance arrow in the dark” during the battle. I altered his story so that he wasn’t personally tortured by Morgoth and thus did not turn; since he was an Easterling and the rest of the Gaurwaith were Edain, I decided they probably treated him poorly, and threw in a bit of a friendship with Mîm as a nod to how Mîm took over his role. Also, I think Easterlings having pre-existing relationships with dwarves is a cool concept—especially since Bór’s people and Azaghâl’s people both served under Maedhros at the Nírnaeth, and could possibly have had the chance to interact!

~~~

CONTINUED IN APPENDIX C

#three houses of the edain #peoples of arda #house of hador #house of marach #estolad #ered wethrin #dor lomin #my meta #tefain nin #thote appendices

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surpassingvalour · 4 years ago

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grief, in isolation

for anon, who requested “angsty nolofinweans after fingolfins death”

Fingon didn’t get to say goodbye.

That was what kept coming back to him: again and again he lost those he loved, never getting the chance to give them a last farewell. His mother hadn’t been able to face him after the Kinslaying; he’d been in the middle of a pointless spat with Arakáno right before he was killed; Turukáno and Írissë and Itarillë had vanished without warning, the better for the secrecy and security of Turno’s kingdom, he said in the letter he left behind.

What a load of horse shit. Secrecy be damned, Fingon missed his family. He didn’t know if they’d made it safely to Ondolindë, what had befallen them there, if Itarillë had gotten up the courage to kiss that girl she’d been so enamoured with before she abandoned her, too—

And now he’d lost his father also. Fingolfin hadn’t even left a note like Turukáno. He’d just...left. Charged into battle with no care for anyone other than himself—no, not even for himself. An eagle had been spied carrying his body away, and if it truly was Thorondor as the rumors said, well. Fingon would have words with him about that. He didn’t even get a body to bury. Why would Thorondor return Fingolfin’s corpse to Hithlum when it would be safer in Ondolindë?

He had Maedhros, at least, to comfort him. Maedhros who had lost his own father centuries before, Maedhros who loved him more than he deserved, Maedhros who Fingon trusted would never, ever leave without a goodbye. Not after the last time.

But aside from Maedhros, Fingon was alone.

Turukáno knelt by the cairn he had built with his own hands. Sorontar had watched, solemn and silent, as he had dismissed the watchers and tended to the broken form of his father’s body with his own hands. It was not beneath the King of Ondolindë to honor his father like this, even if Ñolofinwë had not also been High King of the Ñoldor.

He even turned aside Itarillë, urging her to keep Maeglin away from the sight. It was not fair that the lad would never meet his grandfather, but Turukáno did not want Maeglin’s only memory of Ñolofinwë to be the bruised and battered thing he was in death.

Now the work was done, and his hands ached. His robes were stained with dirt, his cheeks with tears, his heart with yet another grief. It was too much, too much. And he was alone—by choice he was alone. He had banished his daughter and his nephew to spare them this misery, shunned his friends and lords when they offered to help. This was something he had to do by himself, no matter how it pained him.

He was so lonely in Ondolindë. This was his glorious kingdom, a living memory of Tirion upon Túna, and he was proud of it, proud of his people—and he was so alone. Elenwë was dead; Írissë was dead; Arakáno was dead; Ñolofinwë was dead. All that remained of his family were Itarillë, sweet Itarillë who he loved more than anything, and Maeglin, the ill-fated child he tried to love in his sister’s place.

And Findekáno, somewhere out there, rising to take the throne. Turukáno should be there, standing beside him, supporting him, and yet—

And yet he had risked everything to create this place of safety. He could not leave, not even for Findekáno’s sake. Not when letting Írissë roam free had led to her misery and death.

At least he had a grave to mourn by. Findekáno did not have even that.

Itarillë’s hands shook as she attempted to make her words as smooth and elegant upon the page as they once had been. She breathed deep, and still they trembled. But she pressed on regardless, because she needed to write this letter. She had to let her uncle Findekáno know that his father had been laid to rest.

Her father did not allow communications from the outside world. But Sorontar was here, and Grandfather Ñolofinwë was dead, so surely this would be an exception. Itarillë’s heart broke at the thought of Uncle Finno all alone without any family to comfort him—any family but Maitimo, that was. And though she was not as resentful of her Fëanárion cousins as her father, gone were the days where she smiled and sat on Uncle Maitimo’s lap and read him stories written by her mother. She could not muster hatred for him, but neither could she muster love.

Dearest Uncle Findekáno, she wrote, and then paused. Was it alright to write in Quenya? She knew her uncle went by Fingon now, that with Thingol’s ban upon their tongue everyone outside of Ondolindë had changed their names...but surely an Eagle-borne message would not be scrutinized by the King of the Sindar. Then again, if she ever hoped to leave these walls, she ought to practice her Sindarin.

Dearest Uncle Fingon, she tried again, this time in Sindarin. Yes, this was better; it took more effort to think in this second language, which meant she could not spend so much energy purely upon grief.

I write to you because my father will not. I am certain you know this already, but your father and my grandfather, High King Ñolofinwë Fingolfin, has perished...

Itarillë wrote until her hands cramped and her mind went blank—and then she threw the letter in the fire. How could she write to Uncle Finno now, about her grandfather, when he didn’t even know his sister, too, was dead?

Maeglin was used to the stares. He was different, an outsider, the only newcomer to Gondolin since its foundation. At least, the only newcomer who yet lived. Everyone seemed to discount Eöl.

So of course people stared at him. It wasn’t all bad; many of them were just curious. And they got used to him after a time, especially when he started to work in the forge and they came to appreciate him for his craft. And then the king his uncle had declared him a Lord of Gondolin, with all the pomp and circumstance that entailed, and people looked to him as some sort of leader instead of a stranger. He still wasn’t quite used to that.

But these stares—this time they unsettled him.

They weren’t looking at Maeglin, Eöl’s son, the stranger, the half-Avari changeling, the boy who flinched from loud noises and couldn’t stay long out in the sun. They weren’t looking at Lómion, Írissë’s boy, the poor royal orphan, the young man who stuttered through his Quenya and couldn’t make any friends. They weren’t looking at Maeglin the smith or even at Lord Maeglin of the House of the Mole.

No, for the first time, people stared at Prince Maeglin, grandson of Fingolfin, the castaway heir of a broken throne.

Maeglin had never met Fingolfin. Turgon hadn’t even let him see the body. He didn’t know if he resembled his grandfather, if Fingolfin would have loved him or hated him, if he would have been welcomed into the great Ñolofinwëan family as Aredhel’s son. And now even the unrealistic fantasy of meeting those relatives of his who still lived was being crushed.

He only had the one grandfather. Eöl had been one of the Unbegotten, fatherless, woken at Cuiviénen. That had seemed wondrous and exciting when Maeglin was a child, and Eöl had for once been happy to talk about the past, eager to remind his son that he, too, had woken alongside Finwë and made the journey west. Only he was braver and better than any Ñoldo, because he had done it alone.

But Maeglin had loved his mother’s stories more, when it came down to it, though the legends were not as grand when he saw them up close. He didn’t feel like Fingolfin’s grandson, not when he’d never met the ellon. And now he never would.

Anairë hadn’t known who to go to when she felt her marriage bond break. Eärwen still had her husband, the Valar had doomed Ñolofinwë to his fate, most of her old friends had left with her husband when he marched away from her. It had been centuries—she had tried to move on—she had closed their bond long ago. She didn’t expect it to hurt so much when he died. She didn’t even expect to know.

In the end there was only one person she could talk to. But drawing Nerdanel out of isolation was not an easy task.

The first years after the Flight of the Ñoldor were hectic and dreadful. Nerdanel, Anairë, and Eärwen had stuck close together for survival, but when things began to settle down... Well, Anairë and Eärwen had always been closer to each other than to Fëanáro’s wife. They loved Nerdanel, of course, but...well. She had distanced herself from the line of Finwë even before her husband’s rebellion. And her husband...

And so they drifted apart. Anairë never felt alone, not with Eärwen, and later, not with Arafinwë, too. How strange that her husband’s little brother would welcome her into his bed! Such a fate was not one she could have predicted when she married Ñolofinwë. She had believed then that they would never be parted, that strangeness of Míriel and Finwë and Indis was unique. She knew better now.

And yet: Eldarin marriage was forever. The bond had broken with Ñolofinwë’s death—she didn’t even know how he had died—but it was still there, just...in pieces. Anairë didn’t know how to start reassembling them, if she even could.

Nerdanel’s house was empty the first time she worked up the courage to visit. The second time, her once-sister turned her away. The third time, however, Nerdanel invited her inside.

It was awkward and painful and confusing. But Nerdanel confirmed what Anairë had guessed: yes, this meant Ñolofinwë was dead. No, it would not be possible to rebuild their bond, not with him still confined to Mandos’ Halls.

“But,” Nerdanel had said bitterly, “your husband was a valiant king. I have faith that he will be released someday.”

Anairë did not need to ask about her opinion on Fëanáro’s fate. She, too, had known the Spirit of Fire.

The visit was worth it, though it did not bring peace to her heart. At least now Anairë knew that she was not alone in her strange grief, supposed to be foreign to the Blessed Realm.

And Ñolofinwë would return to her, someday. She just didn’t know if she would return herself to him.

[also available on AO3]

#silmarillion #nolofinweans #fingolfin #fingon #turgon #idril #maeglin #anaire #finno #turno #nolo #fic #op #a king is he that can hold his own #the names and kinship of their princes

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absynthe--minded · 4 years ago

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If Supernatural Can Get Fifteen Seasons, The Silmarillion Can Get Fifteen Seasons: An Overview

I’m going to be going into much more detail in individual season-specific posts, but for the moment, here is the extremely condensed look at what each of these seasons would entail plotwise. I’ve included a cut for length; I hope this translates to mobile well. I’ve followed chronology more or less as closely as I can, adding additional time in places where I thought it made sense or moving events closer together for thematic resonance, and I’ve included Russingon because I’m me and of course I did.

The idea is that this is a 2D animated series rated TV-MA (comparable to R for feature films in the US, or any of HBO’s shows) with fifteen seasons, 26 hourlong episodes each.

Season 1: Valinor, and the unrest between the houses of the Noldor, interwoven with stories about the beginning of the universe/the Great Journey from Cuiviénen/etc. Establishes our core Valinorean cast, and hints at Thingol being a presence later. Main storyline involves Finwëan Family Drama, with bonus Melkor Fucking Shit Up. We meet Maglor's secret wife Aeriel, Curufin's known wife Annamírë + his son Celebrimbor, and become aware of Fingon and Maedhros's love affair. The Sword Incident and Fëanor's banishment to Formenos are featured. The audience knows Melkor is plotting something but doesn't know what. Series finale is the Darkening of Valinor - like, the last thing the audience sees before the series ends is the elves' festival in Tirion and then everything goes dark. Roll credits.

Season 2: Cold open on Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm finding Finwë's body + realizing the Silmarils are gone. Flashback to Melkor's plans, and we see the Darkening from his perspective. He flees across the ocean and Ungoliant vanishes. Cover the drama between Fingolfin and Fëanor over the crown, Lalwen and Findis and Finarfin rallying around their brother, etc. Maedhros and Fingon marry. Fëanor convinces nearly all of of his loyalists to leave specifically to avenge his personal losses, Fingolfin has a larger amount of people who want to go East to fight Morgoth. Set up a conflict between Fingolfin and Fëanor here - Fingolfin does actually want to defend the elves still living in Arda proper and the soon-to-come Men from Morgoth's influence, while Fëanor is raving about how I Will Not Be Replaced. (This is not strictly canonical, but it is a good contrast of their leadership styles, and it widens the gap between them/adds another reason why Fëanor would perceive Fingolfin as a threat.) Kinslaying at Alqualondë, Finarfin and his people noping out, Fëanor seeming to forgive/make nice with Fingolfin after his people joined in the fight for the ships. He offers to sail East first, with the justification that if there is danger there he'll be the first to encounter it. Maedhros is reluctantly parted from Fingon. Maglor reveals to Amrod that he was married, and his wife died in the battle. They arrive at Losgar, empty out the boats, and make camp for the night. Amrod goes back onboard the ship to sleep. Maedhros wakes up early, finds his father awake, and asks if he can take the boats back West to pick up Fingon et al. Fëanor loses his shit and starts rousing everyone for the shipburning. Maedhros asks him not to, and reveals his marriage, and Fëanor's response is to throw the first torch. Amrod dies, and none of his brothers can get to him. Fingolfin's host sees the flames from across the ocean, and turn towards the north and the Ice. End season.

Season 3: The host moves inland to Mithrim and begins to set up camp. They've met some Sindar by now, and they carry word back to Doriath that Finwë's son and grandchildren have come back to Arda. Thingol tells Lúthien, who is just past her majority into adulthood, a part of his life story that she hasn't heard yet: that Finwë was his best friend, and that he'd been on his way to see Finwë when he was sidetracked by Melian. He decides to let Fëanor and his host stay in Mithrim in memory of that friendship. Dagor-nin-Giliath happens, Fëanor dies at the end of the second episode. Episode 3 deals with Maedhros being hastily crowned, and receiving word from Morgoth that he'll parlay for a Silmaril, and him riding out despite his brothers' suspicions. He's taken captive, end episode. Episode 4 is after a 58-solar-year timeskip, revealing the fate of Fingolfin's host on the Ice. We open on a dream of Elenwë drowning by Turgon; he wakes to reassure himself that Idril is all right and then everyone continues on. The whole episode is taken up by the Ice and the Battle of the Lammoth, ending with Argon's death and the rising of the Sun. Next episode starts with the elves but cuts over to humanity, newly awakened in Hildórien - this is a hint of what’s to come. Fingolfin's host challenges Morgoth and goes unanswered, and then return to Mithrim and settle on the opposite side of the lake from the Fëanorians, who are doing SUBSTANTIALLY better bc they stole a lot from their fellow Noldor and they also don't treat the land they're living on like Thingol's, vs Fingolfin who refuses to do anything except the bare minimum his people need to survive until they get Permission. Basically the rest of this season is some of the events of Blessed Hands, with Maedhros's rescue and recovery and ensuing family drama. Five solar years pass, and the season ends with him and Fingon riding up to the outskirts of the Fëanorian encampment.

Season 4: Season opens with Maedhros being reunited with his brothers and opening formal negotiations for an apology to Fingolfin. Thingol opens formal negotiations with Maedhros and Fingolfin, but neither one reveal to him why they've come to Beleriand/the circumstances surrounding their departure. Fingolfin wants to speak to Thingol personally, and Maedhros defers to him. Permission is granted for the Noldor to settle in the north of Beleriand. A council meeting is held to settle the matter of the High Kingship; Fingolfin is elected and Maedhros votes for him, angering his brothers. He offers to take up residence in the northeastern mountains near Angband, and Fingolfin grants him and his House lordship of that region. The Fëanorian host begins to depart, but postpones their journey for the Mereth Aderthad. Beleg, Daeron, Mablung, and a few other Sindarin elves attend the feast. Orodreth meets his future wife. Last half of the season covers 40 years - Turgon and Finrod have their visions, the Noldor begin to construct multiple settlements, and attack Morgoth with renewed strength. Season ends with the triumph of the Dagor Aglareb and the departure of Turgon from Nevrast with his host.

Season 5: Season opens in Doriath, with Galadriel having taken up residence there. Brief summation of the beginning of the Siege of Angband. Angrod pisses off Thingol and causes the Ban on Quenya, and news of this is carried to Himring, Nargothrond, and Gondolin, giving us a sense of their status/construction. Caranthir meets the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and strikes up a friendship/partnership with them. Fingon visits Himring once it's finished. Gondolin and Nargothrond are completed. Orcs attack Hithlum by coming up the Lammoth but are turned back. Maedhros, Caranthir, Maglor, and Celegorm go to Barad Eithel for the bicentennial of the Mereth Aderthad. Tension here is primarily political/slice-of-life - it's peaceful, even if it's a watchful peace, and it seems like Morgoth is pretty effectively held at bay. The only exception is Aredhel, who grows dissatisfied with Gondolin and finally leaves after a massive fight with Turgon about everything from his family loyalty to his politics to his taste in clothing. Young Glaurung is turned back easily by Fingon and a few other soldiers. Season ends with Finrod getting separated from the sons of Fëanor while on a hunt and encountering Men in the woods, changing everything.

Season 6: Speedrun Part Two! This is the Season of Men and Politics, covering 145 years. We see the Edain choose to integrate into Noldorin society, with all the lumps and bumps this causes, and how they respond to the elves around them. Bëor, Marach, Haldad, Haleth, Haldar, Malach, Zimrahin, Hador, Adanel, Bereg, Amlach, and Andreth all become important characters. The Green-elves can't stand Men bc they're insufferable vegans, the Sindar are isolationist and suspicious save for a few of their Marchwardens/soldiers, and the Noldor are eager to make new friends. Focus is given to the tensions between the different Edainic groups and philosophies, and how different Houses and clans interact with elves and dwarves. There's not a lot of certainty that the decision to stay was the right one, and different voices have different opinions. All this tension culminates in two things: the council meeting that ends with Bereg leaving Beleriand along with a thousand followers, and the Haladin being trapped behind the Gelion-Ascar Stockade and saved by Caranthir and his forces before going to Brethil. The resolution of this season-long arc is the Edain essentially deciding that if they're going to stay, they'll stay on their own terms, and each House decides what that means. Andreth and Aegnor meet and fall in love. The Athrabeth gets an entire episode. Elvish character drama that isn't about interacting with Men is kept to a minimum except for Aredhel's arc - this is the season where she loses her guards, gets stuck in Nan Elmoth, and encounters Eöl. He's dark and creepy and mysterious and she's at once afraid of him and kind of enamored by his difference from everything she's known, but he quickly turns awful. Huor, Morwen, Rían, Emeldir, Barahir, and Húrin are introduced. Maeglin is born, and grows up, and he and Aredhel escape Nan Elmoth and make a run for Gondolin with Eöl following. The Bragollach and Aredhel's death make up the season finale.

Season 7: Season opens with Fingon's coronation, Maedhros crashing said coronation, baby Gil-galad being sent to Fingon to be his ward and then sent away to Círdan on the coast, and the revelation that Sauron has taken Tol Sirion and Dorthonion has fallen. Flashbacks to various parts of the Bragollach: Celegorm, Curufin, and Celebrimbor saving Orodreth from Sauron's forces and fleeing to Nargothrond/Emeldir fleeing over the mountains to Brethil with the Bëorian civilians while Barahir and Beren and what's left of the fighters remain/Huor and Húrin being taken to Gondolin. Maedhros begins plans for Revenge, Fingon starts leveling austerity measures against the nobility to finance refugee relief, Gondolin mourns Aredhel and doesn't know what to do with Maeglin, and Nargothrond adjusts to having C&C around. Barahir tells Beren about Finrod's oath to always help their family. Sauron tricks Gorlim and slaughters everyone but Beren, who tries and fails to defend Dorthonion and finally flees south and gets lost in the woods of Neldoreth. He meets Lúthien, falls in love with her, and runs afoul of Thingol, who decides to use him to cause infighting in Finwë's descendants. Quest for the Silmaril, with all that entails, meanwhile Fingon struggles with High Kingship and Maedhros makes alliances with the Easterlings and the Dwarves of Belegost. Plenty of time is given to Beren and Lúthien and the Hunt for Carcharoth, with the season finale being their marriage after they return to life.

Season 8: Season opens with Huor and Húrin leaving Gondolin and returning home just in time for battle plans to really start ramping up. If everyone's attacking Angband, no one's attacking Doriath, and if Morgoth is defeated, maybe two Silmarils are really all we need, or so we hope. This is an entire season dedicated to loose ends - Thingol's refusal to join the Union, Orodreth assuming lordship of Nargothrond, Gondolin drama, etc. Morwen and Húrin marry and have Túrin and Urwen. Huor and Rían court and fall in love and marry, and Rían gets pregnant. Beren and Lúthien sneak away from Ossiriand with an infant Dior to visit Beren's family and are present for the wedding. There are little skirmishes, and some suspicions of treachery among the Easterlings that get shut down both by Bór's steadfastness and Fingon insisting that everyone's allied here and due complete respect. A plague hits Estolad, with Urwen dying, and Húrin trying to convince Morwen to send Túrin to Doriath since he's now blood kindred to the King. Morwen refuses, and discovers she's pregnant again as Húrin marches off to war. The Nirnaeth is a three-part season finale, with Tuor's birth juxtaposed against Huor's death.

Season 9: The Children of Húrin/Fall of Gondolin Extravaganza, Part One. Túrin is sent away to Doriath, grows up there, spends time on the marches, falls in love with Beleg and marries him in elvish fashion, and then finally snaps because he can't deal with Menegroth's racist bullshit anymore. Tuor, raised by elves, is finally captured and enslaved. Saeros dies. Túrin leaves Doriath to become an outlaw. Tuor survives as a thrall for years. Morwen and Nienor flee to Doriath, Gwindor escapes Angband and makes his way south towards Nargothrond, Beleg is killed by Túrin, and Tuor finally escapes thralldom. Tuor arrives at Nevrast and Túrin arrives at Nargothrond in the same episode. Ulmo appears to Tuor, and Túrin discovers from Gwindor that Húrin and his entire line have been cursed by Morgoth. Contrast Túrin's desire for action now with Tuor's somewhat careless wandering. Tuor meets Voronwë and they make for Gondolin. Glaurung attacks Nargothrond, and it falls. Túrin escapes into the wilderness and crosses paths with his cousin. Nienor loses her memory and is found by the men of Brethil in the same episode that Tuor comes to Gondolin. End season.

Season 10: CoH/TFOG, Part Two. Túrin goes home and finds his mother and sister gone and makes a mess of things but manages to escape. Tuor tries to tell Turgon to leave and can't convince him, and decides to remain in Gondolin. Tuor and Idril/Túrin and Nienor/Dior and Nimloth meet and fall in love, with this arc culminating in them all marrying in the same episode with the last scene cutting between the three ceremonies. Glaurung returns. Túrin kills him, Nienor gets her memory back, they die. Eluréd and Elurín born. Wanderings of Húrin, including the curse on Gondolin for not letting him in. The Nauglamir comes to Doriath, and with it the first echoes of doom. Season ends with Húrin and Morwen reuniting and their deaths.

Season 11: TFOG Part Three. Thingol gets nerfed by dwarves. Mablung dies. Battle of the Thousand Caves, Battle of Sarn Gebir, where Beren takes the Silmaril back from the dwarves and sends it to Doriath again. Melian departs for Valinor. Dior crowned King of Doriath. Elwing born. The Fëanorians attack Doriath in the Second Kinslaying but Elwing escapes with the Silmaril and makes it to the Havens of Sirion. Maeglin caught by Morgoth and tortured. Maedhros learns Elwing has the Silmaril but forswears the Oath. The actual Fall of Gondolin is a six-part season finale.

Season 12: Season opens with Maedhros futilely sending letters to Elwing pleading for her to relinquish the Silmaril. She refuses, being in her mid-teens now. Most of this season, the Fëanorians are a distant threat; the majority of the story is Eärendil and Elwing falling in love and assuming leadership of the Havens. Gil-galad becomes High King of the Noldor. Círdan starts advocating for asking for help from the West. Celebrimbor escaped Nargothrond's fall and is living as a civilian in Sirion. Idril and Tuor sail for Valinor, their fates unknown. Years pass. Eärendil and Elwing marry, and Eärendil resolves to try to go for help once more. An absolutely kickass ship gets built. Elrond and Elros are born. Eärendil sails West. The Fëanorians are unable to stave off the Oath any longer and attack the Havens, destroying everything. Elwing, convinced her sons are already murdered and having flashbacks to the disappearance of her brothers, jumps from the cliff with the Silmaril and flies for Eärendil's ship. Elrond and Elros are 'adopted' by Maedhros and Maglor. Season ends with a new star appearing in the sky, and Maedhros and Maglor recognizing it as a Silmaril and wondering what that means.

Season 13: Season opens with Gil-galad and Círdan and what Mannish and Dwarvish refugees they've encountered beginning to consider trying to fight back against Morgoth again, as he's been attacking their last remaining refuges. It's been seven years since Sirion was sacked, and no one's seen Elrond and Elros since their disappearance. A pair of twenty-year-old-by-human-standards twins who look neither elven nor human show up on Gil-galad's doorstep, and Círdan recognizes them as the missing boys. They won't talk about their childhood at all, but they say they're here to help in whatever way they can. Hostilities escalate quickly. Halfway through the season the Vanyar and several reembodied Noldor and Teleri arrive in Beleriand, led by Ingwion and Eönwë and Finarfin. The War of Wrath begins.

Season 14: Just. An entire season of the War of Wrath. It's decades of war there's a lot of shit to do here. The biggest thing is that Elros meets Men for the first time and feels like he's come home, starting at the bottom of their ranks and rising through them meritocracy-style. He meets a woman named Elwen who's essentially a pirate and falls in love with her.

Season 15: The first half of the season is the last bit of the WoW, ending with Eärendil killing Ancalagon and breaking open Thangorodrim. Sauron escapes, Morgoth is cast into the Void. Elrond and Elros make their Choice. Celebrían is born, with her naming witnessed by all the reembodied Arafinwëans. The elves who wish to return to Valinor do so, with some - Gil-galad and Galadriel and Celebrimbor, namely - electing to stay. The Valar reward the Men involved in the war with Númenor, though not all of them choose to go. Those that do elect Elros as their King after the Valar have departed. Loose ends are tied up, the beginnings of Middle-Earth are established, and the series ends on a shot of the setting sun from the point of view of Elros's palace.

More specific examinations of each season are coming. But this is a basic idea of what I’m looking for, this would be my Ultimate Dream Adaptation. I could probably cut it down to eight seasons? Probably. But then I’d lose that precious pacing.

#yes I'm well aware fifteen seasons is BONKERS #but if DBZ can run for always So Can We Damn It #the seriesmarillion

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sweetteaanddragons · 5 years ago

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A Guide to Feanorian Elves, by Bilbo Baggins

This is for @mstreason who wanted Feanor, Bilbo, “Have I mentioned I hate you?”, and fake academia.

I struggled for a long time with the “Have I mentioned I hate you?” aspect of the prompt as Bilbo is not a particularly hateful person and while Feanor is certainly very capable in that area, Bilbo is not a particularly likely target.

I ended up going with a more playful direction with that prompt. Unfortunately, the words, “Have I mentioned I hate you?” never directly appear in the fic, I feel that they are somewhat implied towards the end; I hope this story fits the prompt well enough for you to enjoy it.

. . .

Well! With all the hustle and bustle and new guests arriving, it shall be all I can do to remember everyone’s names, and while Frodo seems to be muddling along well enough, I fear poor Sam is in the same boat as I, and he has had even less time to learn the oddities of elvish naming conventions. To that end - and for the benefit of any future travelers in Aman who find themselves rather over their heads - I have constructed the following guide. Hopefully it shall do us all some good.

The House of Feanor:

Feanor, also called Feanaro, or, rarely, Curufinwe: His first two names at least have the benefit of being rather similar to each other, and he stands out in a crowd rather nicely. It seems rather trite to say that you’ll know him when you see him, but I find that it is indeed true. If you are in any doubt, I personally recommend dropping the use of Þ and replacing it with ’s’ while speaking in Quenya in his earshot; if he flinches and visibly restrains himself on the basis that you are a mere hobbit and cannot possibly know better, then it is almost certainly Feanor.

The main difficulty here lies in his title. It is as of yet unclear whether he should be referred to as ‘High King,’ “King,’ ‘Prince,’ ‘Lord,’ or if perhaps all titles ought to be dropped altogether, and picking one to use makes a rather large political statement. I recommend pretending to be old and confused enough to refer to him as ‘Mayor’ and then using whatever you’re corrected with, although admittedly this strategy may work better for some of us than others.

Nerdanel: If she has other names, I’ve never heard them, which makes her rather unique among the elves here in Aman. If she has preferences on titles, she’s yet to make a sufficient fuss about it for the gossip to reach me, so just figure out what you’re going to call Feanor first and then call her the feminine form of that. She’s almost as easy to spot as her husband; just look for the red-headed woman with the rather impressive muscles, presumably from hauling around all that stone for her sculptures.

Maedhros, also called Maitimo, also called Russandol, also called Nelyafinwe: There is no one alive who needs that many names, and I stand by that point firmly.

That said, the names provide several useful descriptors of him, so, in order: Maitimo apparently means well-formed, and although I suspect most mothers would say the same upon seeing their first child, apparently there are a fair few maidens in Tirion who agree despite everything that’s passed since. Russandol is a reference to his red hair, which matches his mother’s very well, and Nelyafinwe means “third Finwe” and seems to be regarded as a backhanded insult to Feanor’s two half-brothers, so I recommend avoiding that one unless you intend to wade far deeper into elvish politics than good hobbitish sense would dictate. Maedhros seems to be safe enough and even the preferred form, so it might be best to stick with that.

He has been a king, a prince, and a lord, and although no one seems to be keen on calling him the first, the rest are still up in the air, and I’m hearing now that they’re considering making up some brand new title for former kings, of which they seem to have an abundance. I recommend repeating the mayor trick, or, if they seem to be catching on to that, coughing in the middle of mumbling your pick of titles. This has the added advantage of the nearest elf usually offering to fetch you a beverage.

Maglor, also called Kanafinwe, also called Makalaure: If you don’t recognize him after all this time in Elrond’s house, I can’t help you. Personally, I think it best to just stick with calling him Maglor, as that’s what we’re all used to, but I’ve written a brief etymology of his other names in case you hear anyone calling him something else.

Kanafinwe means strong-voiced of Finwe. The strong-voiced bit sounds like another name that would occur to a great many new parents, but it also turned out to be rather prophetic, so it suits him. Makalaure, on the other hand, means gold-cleaver, which makes little sense to me, as I’ve yet to see him cut anything in half, much less gold, but apparently it is meant to refer in some manner to his skill with a harp.

You may also hear a few people with more voice than sense call him ‘Elrond’s pet kinslayer’; I recommend giving these people your best look of disappointment and/or disapproval until they look ashamed of themselves and stop.

Celegorm, also called Turcafinwe, also called Tyelkormo: I am told Turcafinwe means ‘strong Finwe’ which is appropriate enough, given his skill at hunting, but it seems to leave a rather poor implication towards the original Finwe’s comparative strength. (This observation is probably left kept to yourself, however.) There seems to be some disagreement about what hair color to expect from him (I have no idea why; perhaps he likes to dye it), so if you miss his introduction, try bringing up hunting and seeing who looks most enthusiastic about it. Alternatively, see who looks most awkward around Elrond - I imagine there will be some lingering difficulty about the whole Luthien affair. Goodness knows there was in the Shire after Poppy turned down Otho, and this is a good deal more awkward a situation than that.

I would try not to bring that up though as his mother name when translated reveals itself to be a prediction of a quick temper which, combined with his strength, might be best not to provoke.

Caranthir, also called Morifinwe, also called Carnistir: Morifinwe translates to ‘Dark Finwe’ which has led to some calling him “Caranthir the Dark” which contrasts rather nicely with those that call his older brother “Celegorm the Fair.” Said darkness is a reflection upon his hair, not his character, although since he is hardly the only dark haired Feanorian, I am not sure why it was considered worth commenting upon.

It still strikes me as a better name than Carnistir which as best I can make out means “red-faced.” I have no doubt that this was indeed true upon his birth, but as this is true for most healthy babes it seems rather pointless to make a name of it.

But I suppose I am being rather harsh; the duty of naming a child never fell to me as Frodo was already well secure in his name by the time he came to me, and I suppose upon being handed a newborn babe, it might be easy to panic and just say the first thing that came to mind.

Curufin, also called Curufinwe, also called Atarinke: If you look around and see someone that looks almost exactly like Feanor but who is deferring to the person that’s actually Feanor, that’s Curufin. Feanor passed down his less used name to Curufin, but it still seems best to stick the Sindarin form in order to help avoid confusion.

Atarinke means ‘little Father,’ a name that must have been wonderfully appropriate in childhood but seems a little less so now as Curufin has managed to surpass his father in height by approximately the width of a thumb, at least according to Maglor. I am also told that I ought not to bring this up.

Still, I suppose ‘little Father’ remains somewhat appropriate as he is the only son of Feanor to have actually achieved the state of fatherhood.

I think. I am still not entirely clear on which kings Gil-Galad is descended from, exactly.

Celebrimbor, also called Telperinquar: According to elvish naming customs at the time of his birth, he should have at least one more name, given to him by his mother. I can find no one willing to tell me this name, or, for that matter, to talk about his mother. I will continue searching what records I can but will decline from further questioning as, despite what the Dunedain might have thought, I am actually capable of tact in these things.

Telperinquar means silver-fist which works well enough for a smith, and, in an additional stroke of luck, he is the only who currently has a clear title: Lord of Eregion. The fallen state of that city appears not to matter in this case, so Lord Celebrimbor or Telperinquar it is.

This is additionally important as while you may not end up talking with all the Feanorians during this visit, a long talk with Celebrimbor seems rather unavoidable. Hopefully it shall be good for all of us.

Amrod, also called Pityafinwe, also called Ambarussa, also called Ambarto, also called Umbarto and Amras, also called Telufinwe, also called Ambarussa: I recommend calling them both Ambarussa as apparently even their own brothers sometimes can’t tell them apart, in which case, we haven’t a chance. Supposedly Amrod’s hair is a shade darker than Amras’s, but unless they’re standing next to each other, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to tell the difference.

As they’ll be arriving first, it seemed best to go ahead and give you this collection of notes as it stands; a continuation of the guide shall be presented shortly before the arrival of Fingolfin and Finarfin’s clans.

. . .

Dear Master Baggins,

I was delighted to make your acquaintance last night. I was slightly less delighted when I discovered this packet which appears to have fallen from your pocket.

- [ink blot over title] Feanor

. . .

Dear most honorable and hopefully most forgiving [ink blot over title] Feanor,

Oh, dear. In my defense, I never intended anyone other than my nephew and his good friend to read this; I assure you I would have made it far more polished if it were for public consumption.

Please forgive any lines that may have given offense. In the hopes of more readily attaining this forgiveness, I have enclosed copies of my notes on your half-brothers’ families.

- Bilbo Baggins

. . .

Dear Master Bilbo,

Your second set of notes was delightful; all is most certainly forgiven.

- [ink blot] Feanor

#feanor #sons of feanor #nerdanel #bilbo #bilbo baggins #silmarillion #lord of the rings #fic #prompted fic #feanor and his sons are released into Aman #and the hobbits have to wade through the approaching tide of names

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feanope · 5 years ago

Note

On your list of Caranthir things, you mentioned him standing up towards Curufin's accusations against Maedhros which I found really interesting because I also headcanon Curufin shouting some pretty nasty accusations towards him (regarding Angband). Am very interested.-@outofangband

*cough* I feel terribly sorry for having that ask sit in my inbox for... forever @outofangband

The thought of Moryo standing up against Curufin when he attacks Maedhros for giving the crown to Fingolfin is something I’ve tackled in my fic Smoldering Embers, in which Caranthir reflects on all his brothers and the past.

Here’s this part about Moryo standing up against Curufin ( in which Curufin shouts something very nasty to Maedhros

Curufin.

Somehow he had become Caranthir’s bane and it had surprised him not that their lands were as far away from each other as possible.

That it was for the best, Maedhros knew most of all.

No, Caranthir did not exactly hate Curufin, had never hated him, at least not in the literal sense of the word. Because no matter what, they were brothers – family. And weren’t brothers meant to quarrel and be at peace afterwards again? It had never been Caranthir’s fault that the drama went on for many days. He was quick to anger, but even quicker to calm down, whereas Curufin carried a grudge against him forever. In fact, Caranthir didn’t know anyone who was so extraordinarily resentful as Curufin.

No, he had never hated him.

With the exception of one night – the night Maedhros, partly recovered from the horrors of Angband, had announced that he would surrender kingship and give the crown to their uncle.

The announcement had come quite as a surprise. At least, that was what Caranthir had thought then. Now, recalling the days before, perhaps it had not been; they just had been too blind and reluctant to see.

The night had been deadly silent as they stared at Maedhros in disbelief. True, they had not been exactly content with their leader’s decision, the fact shining evident from each pair of eyes, but deep inside they all knew it was just and right.

All except for Curufin.

Caranthir had never seen him like this before, or ever after. The same fey laughter that had tumbled from their father’s mouth as he had set the ships ablaze now shone from Curufin’s eyes, which glittered golden and malicious.

A fist had landed on the table as Curufin had screamed, ‘Betrayer!’

The silence that had followed had been deadly until Celegorm had spoken.

Even now, thinking of it, anger flashed across Caranthir’s face – and surprise as he remembered Celegorm’s attempt to talk reason into Curufin.

Curufin would not listen. ‘Keep your mouth shut, Tyelko,’ he had cried at Celegorm, then had turned again towards Maedhros, fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly, ‘Our father’s precious heirloom! The gems lost, the crown usurped! Thrown away, by his eldest son, our father’s true heir!’

Maedhros, diplomatic as ever, had Curufin’s verbal outburst wash over him, jaw set. Though Caranthir knew Maedhros's calm had not been what it seemed. Nothing about it had been diplomatic. Rather, it was stoic as if he had trained for it. Caranthir knew he had. The silence and the defensiveness as Maedhros had simply regarded him with tired eyes had sparked Curufin’s temper all the more.

Celegorm had thought it was over then. Caranthir had known better. It had been the calm before the storm.

Swallowing hard, Curufin’s rage had reached a peak none of them had thought possible, yelling furiously at Maedhros, ‘You had better stayed where you were – dead.’

It had been then that Caranthir had completely and utterly lost his temper in a way he never had before. Without thinking twice he back-handed Curufin with all his strength, hitting hard enough to draw blood. A feeling of a strange satisfaction flowing through his veins followed immediately after.

A terrible silence reigned as Caranthir had waited for Curufin to lunge at him. He never had. Many emotions sparked in Curufin’s eyes, as he had risen his hand to carefully touch his cheek, hurt and pain, shock, but most of all surprise before they leveled out into something far more familiar – vengeance. It had not come, not that day as Curufin had simply stormed out of the tent, with Celegorm following on his heels, nor any other.

When Maedhros asked him, later, Caranthir said he did not regret his actions. It was true, he did not. He had never before assaulted one of his brother’s physically, nor ever did again. But then, never again had tempers flared as on that night.

#outofangband #caranthir #Curufin #Silmarillion #my writing #Feel free to hit me up #I am curious about your thougths re: Moryo and Curufin and Maedhros #Anonymous

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