#anardil

[spruceneedles]

A little drawing of Ailinel, Almiel and Aldarion

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

What's the deal with the Sun?

If you haven't read my rant on Narþil, I recommend it, because it explains how vowel and consonant length effect the meaning of words in Quenya. Link here:

So Iþil is moon and comes from the root Þil which means a white light.

Anar looks similar to nár which means fire, so it would make sense if it was in reference to that, right? But it should be Anár then.

Except here. Quoth the Eldamo!

Okay, so since the nár is in the last syllable of Anar, then that makes sense for it to be a shortened vowel.

Anárion. That makes sense. It isn't the last syllable, so it should be nár.

Narya. ... Wait.

Narvinyë. ... Hold on.

Narmancil. ... Tolkien.

Anardil. ... Professor, you had a rule.

Anarcalin. ... Mr Professor Tolkien, we had a deal!

--- One mental breakdown later ---

So, after conferring with the Council (*cough me and some people on a Silm Minecraft discord cough*), we concluded that this was a rule that Tolkien either established very early and forgot about, established late after he wrote a bunch of stuff, or Christopher forgot to put the accent thing on. :/

I also came to the conclusion that it would be Nárþil, in order to follow the rule. But I still maintain that it doesn't mean "red and white flame".

There is no reference to red. At most, I would translate it to white light flame. (Nár means fire/flame, þil means white light.) But I believe that would be thinking a doughnut is an almond (a nut) made of dough. It's more literal than intended. Why would I think that? Point 2.

There are references on Nárþil to both the Sun and Moon. I still believe it is a portmanteau of the two, Anar and Iþil.

Also, the root SIL has two meanings now: "gleam" and "white light", since the þ to s shift turned the root ÞIL into SIL as well.

Edit:

Upon further reflection, I think that it can literally mean "red and white flame" and be a reference to Anar and Iþil. But it's still Nárþil.

[marta-bee]

More Aldarion & Erendis time. I want to take a step back from all the fun character-drama between our titular leads and talk a bit about the political situation. It's definitely turning how I think of the Numenor story on its head, but in a good way.

I've always thought of Numenoreans as prideful men who saw themselves as better than other men, their natural rulers, etc. Very imperial stuff. Very prideful generally, and pride goeth before, etc. Their thinking they could bring Sauron as a captive into their own land. The very questioning of mannish mortality. It's what did them in in the end.

A&E is set in a much earlier time though. Aldarion is only five generations removed from Elros, and was only born about 250 years after Elros died. And for the most part they're unconcenred with the wider world. You see this in Meneldur's pushing Aldarion to remain in Numenor and not go adventuring abroad, long before he married Erendis or even began courting her. His first duty was to love and know his own land, and for the people of Numenor to know him. It feels isolationist, but I don't take it in the modern Trumpian sense or even the America staying out of WWI while Europe bled and died sense. There's this idea that the Numenoreans have been given a gift of peace and having enough, and it's their job to live in that and let it heal their national soul.

Gil-Galad sends Tar-Meneldur a letter that changes that.

Ereinion Gil-galad son of Fingon to Tar-Meneldur of the line of Eärendil, greeting: the Valar keep you and may no shadow fall upon the Isle of Kings. Long I have owed you thanks, for you have so many times sent to me your son Anardil Aldarion: the greatest Elf-friend that now is among Men, as I deem. At this time I ask your pardon, if I have detained him overlong in my service; for I had great need of the knowledge of Men and their tongues which he alone possesses. He has dared many perils to bring me counsel. Of my need he will speak to you; yet he does not guess how great it is, being young and full of hope. Therefore I write this for the eyes of the King of Númenórë only. A new shadow arises in the East. It is no tyranny of evil Men, as your son believes; but a servant of Morgoth is stirring, and evil things wake again. Each year it gains in strength, for most Men are ripe to its purpose. Not far off is the day, I judge, when it will become too great for the Eldar unaided to withstand. Therefore whenever I behold a tall ship of the Kings of Men, my heart is eased. And now I make bold to seek your help. If you have any strength of Men to spare, lend it to me, I beg.

Should they keep living in peace, content in their little island's safety, or should they start preparing for war? And Meneldur knows he can't decide, abdicates the throne, and lets Aldarion step in.

It's a good impulse, to help, but it's borne out of a morally rotten premise. This is Sauron, of course everyone should help. But to think that the Numenorean uniquely are able to help, and that the men of Middle-earth are incapable of resisting Sauron sticks in my craw. It sets up the Numenoreans as having a natural nobility somehow missing from other men. Where what Glorfindel should be doing is recognize the potential for good in the humans not yet caught under Sauron.

Perhaps he's doing that too, or at least trying to. But the point is, I don't think the Numenoreans get to see that. They think they're specially responsible for resisting Sauron, which makes them special and other men almost chattel.

As an American, I'm feeling more than a bit seen, and not in a good way.

As a Tolkien fan, I'm a bit uncomfortable with how much I suspect Tolkien accepted this. It's not a stretch to imagine him viewing the English as the protectors and saviors of all those grubby men who could not be trusted to govern themselves. (Talking about Africans, Asians, and all sort of then-British colonies here.) I need to think about whether the rest of the Numenor story is a critique of that idea; whether this belief in their own superiority and their being central to fighting against Sauron was a subtle kind of pride that led to their fall or whether he thought of that later pride as something else entirely.

I like thinking they're connected because it makes for a better story. But I'm not sure if it's what Tolkien meant here. I know if he meant Gil-Galad's assessment to be genuine, I don't like that.

[mithruel]

"Oh, you poor soul, so desperate...but worry not, for I am here."

Anardil, a noble elf cleric of the god of dawn, Lathander.

A character commission of DnD/BG3 character ✨

[ten-summoners-fails]

Tyelcano’s blade was pointing to his heart, mere inches away from his chest. His eyes, bright and terrible, bore into his; and his voice was heavy with grief when he spoke. “Do not make me do this, I beg you.” “You would never,” said Laurefindil. “I already have,” said Tyelcano, “and if you force my hand, I shall never forgive you for it.” “You, on the other hand, are already forgiven.” “Cease this!” His friend all but shouted at him; but the blade did not move an inch. “Step aside, Laurefindil, and tell your King that I cornered you. That I was too quick. That you never thought I would betray you so. Hate my memory, if you have to; but let me go before something unspeakable comes to pass.” Laurefindil did not lower his gaze. “If you want this to become an unnecessarily perilous and irresponsible sparring match,” he said, “then so it shall become.” And he drew his blade as well; and their weapons sang a song of ice and fury as they clashed against each other. Laurefindil lost his balance, then found it, then lost it again as they danced their dangerous dance along the edge of the Caragdûr; always hungry and always watching, like a giant, lidless eye. After a time, Laurefindil’s every move felt slowed down and dulled, restrained by the cold. The pressure of his chainmail was uncomfortable against his back, and every clash of the two blades reverberated through his bones; for these were no training strikes, but a real duel with sharpened weapons, wielded with force and will. It was nothing like sparring; it was something terrible, and unnatural, and addictive, in the worst way possible. So they danced for a long time; sometimes closer, sometimes further away from each other, the depts of the abyss an ever-looming threat behind them, or in front of them, and sometimes, on their sides. And then came a moment when Laurefindil’s blade slid down against Tyelcano’s, their swords touching just above the hilt; and their momentum pulled them close, their faces less then an inch away from each other. “I do not wish to fight you, my friend,” said Tyelcano quietly. “Then don’t.” Laurefindil’s mouth pressed into a thin line of concentration and pain. “Put down your sword, and I shall put down mine; and we shall go, and wake Anardil, and drink him out of his tea. He has a song for you.” “I know you want to save everyone, but you cannot. Not me. Not this time. My dreams have spoken, and I have to go.”

My sincere thanks to, and deep admiration for 2fewbookshelves for this absolutely wonderful illustration of my fic <3

>> The Seven Gates, Chapter 34: Blood on the Snow <<

Also available: Chapter 35: The Third Betrayal

[child-of-hurin]

Long I have owed you thanks, for you have so many times sent to me your son Anardil Aldarion: the greatest Elf-friend that now is among Men, as I deem. At this time I ask your pardon, if I have detained him overlong in my service; for I had great need of the knowledge of Men and their tongues which he alone possesses. He has dared many perils to bring me counsel.

Gil-Galad in dire need of spies, informants, or at very least ambassadors... I feel like this tells us so much, tbh

The UT makes a point of letting us know Erendis spoke Sindarin, as it was common in Western Númenor, but that Aldarion preferred the "Númenórean tongue"; makes you wonder if he picked up more languages during his travels to Middle Earth or what? There's no way these people Aldarion was talking to spoke the "Númenórean tongue" -- so either Aldarion knew other tongues of Men or there was enough similarity between their languages that they could still understand each other! TBH, idk which explanation I prefer haha. Maybe both!

[timewandererus]

The Kings of Gondor

I claimed that I can name all the Kings of Gondor by rote. Such a bold claim demands proof. So, here:

Meneldil-Usurped Valandil’s suzerainty and ensured the Kings of Gondor could rule without Arnor’s interference. Judge him as you will but Gondor thrived under the rule of his descendants.

Cemendur-Literally did nothing at all.

Earendil-Had a famous name and an uneventful rule

Anardil-The same as his grandfather. See Cemendur.

Ostoher-Expanded Minas Anor. Not much, but better than his father. Minas Anor’s expansion would be useful in a millennium or so.

Romendacil I=Defeated the first invasion of Easterlings. Bravo, Tarostar.

Turambar-Avenged his father and dealt the Easterlings a second defeat. They remained cowed for close to a millennium.

Atanatar-Rejoiced in his father’s victory. Did nothing else of note.

Siriondil-Did absolutely nothing of note.

Tarannon-Started an epic shipbuilding program. Probably to compensate for his lack of heirs and his horrible marriage.

Earnil I-Continued his uncle’s naval expansion and conquered Umbar. Perished shortly after along with his entire armada in a very suspicious storm.

Ciryandil-Continued his father and great-uncle’s work and defended Umbar to his death.

Hyarmendacil I-Fulfilled his father, grandfather and great-uncle’s grand ambitions by defeating the Umbarians and Haradrim once and for all, earning his place as the greatest King of Gondor.

Atanatar II-Enjoyed the fruits of his father’s great labors. Called himself the “Glorious”.

Narmacil I-The most lazy and spoiled King in Gondor’s entire history. Lived in complete luxury and decadence and handed the tasks of ruling to his nephew. Lived like a literal King without any of the responsibilities or cares.

Calmacil-Lived the same life as his childless brother. Ruled for a handful of years after his brother’s death. Dude had a pretty luxurious life.

Romendacil II-The true heir to Hyarmendacil’s strategic genius and leadership. Carried the torch for his lazy father and uncle. Defeated the Easterlings after they stirred from their long past defeat at the hands of Turambar.

Valacar-Married a woman of the North-Princess Vidumavi-for love. One of the bravest Kings of Gondor. Defied the worst racism of the Dunedain. Kudos, King.

Eldacar-The first King to be of “mixed” blood. Was usurped by his chief Admiral and lost his firstborn son to the Kin-Strife. Took it all back a decade later and slew the foul Usurper for his crimes.

Castamir-Racist, usurping tyrant. Shortest reign of all the Kings of Gondor, save one. And not short enough it was.

Aldamir-Ruled Gondor after his father reclaimed the crown. Didn’t do much other than rebuild.

Hyarmendacil II-Defeated the Haradrim after their long defeat at the hands of Hyarmendacil I.

Minardil-Fell victim to a surprise attack by the Usurper’s grandsons. Bad luck, I guess.

Telemnar-Fell victim to the Great Plague. Must have inherited his dad’s bad luck.

Tarondor-Took the throne after his uncle died from the Plague. Managed to save Gondor from collapse. Relocated to Minas Anor, Ostoher’s renovations from a millennium ago finally proving useful.

Telumehtar-The first King of Gondor to take to the sea since Hyarmendacil-Castamir does not count!-and destroyed all of the Usurper’s heirs, taking Umbar back for Gondor. A much-belated vengeance for his great-great-uncle.

Narmacil II-Fought a third invasion of Easterlings. Defeated them, but died on the field of battle. Those Easterlings are a pretty resilient foe. That’s the second King of Gondor they’ve killed.....I hope they don’t get anymore.

Calimehtar-Avenged his dad, following in the proud tradition of Turambar and both Romendacil’s. Defeated the Wainriders with the help of the brave Northmen.

Ondoher-Rode to battle to fight a second invasion of Wainriders. Those guys just don’t give up. His luck was even worse than his grandfathers and both his sons died with him in Battle.

Earnil II-The great-great-grandson of Telumehtar. Literally the only choice left for a successor in the Line of Anarion after Ondoher and his idiot sons got themselves killed at the Morannon. The Heirs of Anarion are getting pretty scarce. Earnil had a lot more battle-savvy than his predecessor. He avenged Ondoher and saved Gondor from ruin. Let’s hope his son is half the man he is.

Earnur-The Last-King of Gondor in the Line of Anarion and by far the most foolish. He inherited his father’s skill on the battlefield and none of his strategic brilliance. After taking the crown, he was tricked into an ambush by the Lord of the Nazgul and slain after long torment. Thus ends the Kings of Gondor through Anarion’s Line.

[arofili]

the line of elros ♚ royalty of gondor ♚ headcanon disclaimer

          Meneldil was the only son and youngest child of Anárion, and the last man born in Númenor before its fall. He was raised in his father’s new-founded kingdom of Gondor. He ruled as his father’s steward in Minas Anor during the War of the Last Alliance, and when Anárion died he claimed inheritance to Gondor’s throne. After the war, Meneldil’s uncle Isildur declared himself High King of the Dúnedain, but granted Meneldil the leadership of Gondor after a year of managing the kingdom’s affairs himself. Meneldil was pleased upon the departure of Isildur and his sons, for though he loved his uncle and cousins, he was eager to take up the mantle of king. When Isildur was slain not a month later, Meneldil grieved, but did not send aid to the now-kingless kingdom of Arnor, instead focusing on solidifying his own rule by moving the seat of the king to Osgiliath, the city his father had died to defend.          Meneldil took the musician Nyellelírë to be his queen. She passed her love of song onto her son Cemendur, who as king sponsored many great plays and symphonies among the artists of Osgiliath, including some pieces from the time of Tar-Vanimeldë that survived the Atalantë. It is through the arts that he met his wife Tinweriel, a dancer originally from the coast.           Eärendil was the son of Cemendur and Tinweriel, named both for his mother’s love of the sea and his father’s famous ancestor. He was a renowned fencer who initiated a tradition of tournaments among his knights and often participated himself. He was bested only by Lady Aldalótë, a shieldmaiden of great renown, and in time their friendly rivalry led to their marriage. Their son was Anardil, who while not as great a swordsman as his parents was skilled in the bow.           Anardil’s wife Elquassë was a devoutly religious woman descending from a lord of Arnor. At her bidding, Anardil reached out to Gondor’s distant sister-kingdom and attempted to arrange a great feast of reuniting with Eldacar of Arnor, bringing the two realms together in kinship once more. However, Anardil and Eldacar were both men of quick tempers, and much to Elquassë’s dismay relations soon soured and the plans were discarded. Gondor and Arnor ceased communications entirely for nearly a century, and no future attempts at reconciliation bore much fruit until the coming of King Elessar.

[ncfan-1]

I know the timeline doesn’t work out, that Ancalimë would have been in the Emerië with her mother while this was going on, but I wanted to write this ficlet (And seeing as it’s Elrond giving Meneldur the letter from Gil-galad, it’s already AU, anyways). Thank @anghraine for putting the image of Elrond as that weird uncle who shows up on Númenor once every twenty years or so to spoil his nieces and nephews into my head.

--

The first thing Ancalimë noticed was the multitude of boxes the strange man had had brought into the room. Wood they were, smooth and shining black and red and rich brown and pale, buttery yellow, gleaming in the light of the sun. Some were large enough for a full-grown man to lie down in them and disappear from sight. Some were so small that Ancalimë could have held them easily in the palm of her small hand. They smelled strange—not bad, mind, but they smelled of crisp, sharp things Ancalimë had no name for, maybe flowers or herbs.

The second thing she noticed was that the man who had brought them in, the man Grandfather called uncle in spite of the fact that Tar-Amandil’s second son was long dead, was… strange. He looked like a Númenórean, had the night-dark hair and shining gray eyes so common among Ancalimë’s mother’s kin (though his skin was much paler, the color of the sand on the shores of the Hyarnustar), but there was something… different. Strange.

She was still trying to figure out what was strange about him when Grandfather eyed the boxes, and with that pinched, tired voice he used quite a lot, asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve got my son in one of those.”

The strange man whom Ancalimë was not convinced was actually her uncle shook his head. “I’m afraid not, though Anardil is part of the reason I’m here. I have books for you, and other things. Almiel asked for certain seeds, and I have some things that I hope this little one—” here his eyes fixed on Ancalimë, and he smiled; Ancalimë responded by furrowing her brow and taking a step closer to Grandfather “—might like.”

“He goes by Aldarion, these days, and I’ll look at the books later; thank you for bringing them. So…” Grandfather straightened, tried to smile and only managed to look like he had a bit of a headache, and said, “for what reason are you here that has to do with my son, if he hasn’t seen fit to come home, again?”

The strange man took two envelopes from the front of his rich blue tunic. “I have a letter from Gil-galad. You’ll want to read it soon. It’s…” His bright eyes flickered to Ancalimë, and he hesitated. “…It’s important that you read it soon.” Here, his brow furrowed in a way that Ancalimë recognized with a jolt as being a mirror of her own. Rather more delicately, he said, “I also have a petition.”

“About what?” Grandfather asked, though frankly he sounded like he would rather be asking about anything else.

“About the number of trees he’s been cutting down.”

Grandfather let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course.” He crossed the room to where the strange man stood, took the envelopes out of his hands rather less gently than he could have, and said, without looking at Ancalimë, “Ancalimë, child, I need to… deal with these. This is your uncle, Elrond. Since he has no children of his own, he has made it his life’s ambition to spoil rotten as many of his brother’s descendants as he can.”

And with that, Grandfather left the room, leaving Ancalimë alone with the strange man and his multitude of boxes.

Ancalimë eyed the man who evidently was her uncle—Elrond, Grandfather called him, and the name sounded familiar, though Ancalimë wasn’t entirely certain why—dubiously. She rather wished she had Mámë, her toy sheep, with her, though it wouldn’t have served well as a shield. Maybe as something to throw as a distraction.

For his part, Elrond did not approach, did not attempt to touch her or hug her, which made him a little better than Aunt Ailinel, though only just. Instead, he murmured, “Ancalimë… How old are you?”

“I’m six. You’re strange,” Ancalimë said flatly.

“Oh?” Elrond raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t seem particularly offended. “How so?”

“You…” Ancalimë struggled to put it into words. She thought she finally had it, but there wasn’t a word. “…You’re like an Elf, but not. But you’re not a Man, either.”

Elrond knelt down so they were on eye level, some ten feet away from each other. He smiled, gently, and if his eyes looked slightly sad as he did so, it was gone in a flash. “I am a Númenórean, Ancalimë. I’m just a Númenórean who elected to live on, where others have passed away.”

[garden-ghoul]

Well it’s time for Aldarion and Erendis

“the mariner’s rewife song”

this story starts out with a guy I vaguely remember, named meneldur. no, wait, maybe that meneldur was the FATHER of elendil, not the son of elendil, because the other elendil was definitely like the 23rd king of numenor and this guy is the 4th king... needless to say, I’m starting this one off strong by getting pissed off at mr johnald rolkien again.

well meneldur is special, because he Hates Doing Anything and also instead of being gay for the sea like the rest of the edain he is instead gay for the sky. it also says his wife was a woman of great beauty, which I am getting really tired of. I’m not sure we’ve had really ANY women who were not of great beauty. I love women as much as you, johnald, but where are the ugly women? who are still cool and awesome? did you HAVE to make, for instance, morwen beautiful? anyway aldarion the titular is one of meneldur’s sons. he also has the tar- prefix, which I think is like... specifically to differentiate Dunedain We Like from The Bad Ones (eg ar-pharazon has lost his T by being wicked).

aldarion is a really cute kid. he has a great relationship with his grandpa, the captain of the king’s ships, and he learns to sail really early so that “before he was full grown he could captain a ship of many men.” so far he is kind of a prototypical numenorean. oh and his other name is anardil, and his grandpa calls him anardilya, that’s the cutest thing. it sounds like a russian diminutive. dilya and granpa set out for middle earth, a great sailing adventure! dilya’s dad is filled with Prophetic Foreboding, but he can’t say no to those puppydog eyes, so off they go!

in summary, the one thing dilya cannot do is stop adventuring. he MUST sail. he MUST befriend all the elves on middle earth. after his dad becomes king, he MUST start a Venturers’ Guild and build a beautiful houseboat so he can always live on the water. this really feels like a Boys Club Story from like the 40s. so dilya goes about, sailing, tending the forest so they’ll always have more timber, and when he turns 100 his dad wants to proclaim him the official heir. here we also meet erendis, who is beautiful in a totally different way than numenoreans because she’s of the house of beor. I am SO SICK of beautiful women. sigh. well, erendis gets a crush on aldarion because he is hot and presumably buff from all the sailing he does. but he’s never around the castle or whatever they have in numenor, because he’s in the forest trying really hard not to think about sailing. it doesn’t work! he starts preparing to leave on a seven year voyage, like, immediately afterward.

his dad is angry. his parents start trying to set him up with erendis, because she already likes him and he’s got to marry SOMEONE. and maybe if he falls in love he’ll stop sailing so damn much?? well, he does, kinda! after king meneldur refuses to give his blessing to dilya’s departing ship, erendis sneaks the queen’s blessing to him, and he’s like, wow she’s so nice! and he brings her back a diamond from his journey. “you shouldn’t throw around nice gifts unless you’re going to MARRY SOMEONE,” says the king. “okay fuck you I’m never giving her a gift again,” says dilya. nevertheless, the next time he illegally sets sail erendis brings him another blessing.

while he’s gone, meneldur bans sailing, basically, and especially cutting down trees for new ships. when dilya comes back he is furious!! he was really good at forest husbandry!! he was a super responsible shipwright!! I’m never coming back here, dad!! this time he gets no blessing at ALL, and he’s away for fourteen years, during which time his ships and the port he founded get beat all to hell by ill fortune. because meneldur wouldn’t bless him. erendis moves back to another part of the island because she thinks he is dead. ALSO in his absence people have been using trees super irresponsibly! I love the emphasis here on responsible forestry.

while surveying the forest, he meets erendis and suddenly realizes how much he missed her. they immediately go to ask her father if they can get married, but she is filled with foreboding. the responsible forestry fixation is revealed as a metaphor! erendis is afraid that if she marries anardil she will always be competing for his attention with the sea. it says she loves the forests way more than the sea, and now I get what the setup is: you need land with trees on it, and farms and stuff, to support going to sea. if it’s true that mariners will always return to the sea, it’s equally true that they must always return to port. presumably, if they get married, he will take really good care of her like she is a forest, but she will still be sad that she doesn’t get to see him often. I can’t help but compare these two to elwing and earendil, who had to sail together to be happy and successful. I’m just saying, erendis. maybe learn to sail. get brawny and chill on the sea with your soon-to-be husband.

no, it turns out she Hates The Sea. she goes sailing with dilya and despises it; in return she asks him to hang out in the pastures with her. she accuses him of chopping down lots of trees to make boats, which is fair, and he tells her to name any tree she really loves, and he won’t chop it down. “I love ALL of them,” she says. “every tree on numenor is my personal friend.”

he says nothing to this, and apparently that did NOT mean he promised  not to chop down any trees. after the get engaged, the venturers’ guild starts bugging aldarion to chop down more trees to build more boats, and also give them money to sail further. I love this passage where he’s riding out to visit erendis in the westlands and inadvertently gets too close to the sea--

Then suddenly the sea-longing took him as though a great hand had been laid on his throat, and his heart hammered, and his breath was stopped.

this is how I feel about the sea too... meneldur says “please, son, get married!!” but

“It has come upon me again, Atarinya. Eighteen years is a long fast. I can scarce lie still in a bed, or hold myself upon a horse, and the hard ground of stone wounds my feet.”

he’s like a selkie or something. I love this crap boy. he visits erendis and is like “hey want to go sailing with me?”

“I thought you came to talk about our wedding :( ” she says. “also if I sail out of sight of land I will Die. the sea Hates me.” it’s not really clear if she’s phobic or if she’s actually cursed (there is very little difference in my experience). but she can see he’s dying too, from seagayness (a serious sickness!) so she tells him to go and sail. this time he’s away for six years, and everything on middle earth has started to suck in the 19 years since he last visited. his port was destroyed and everyone hates numenoreans, for some reason. but he comes back, and they get married! I want to sleuth out how old she is by now... let’s see... um, she’s at least 80. they met in year 800 of the second age, and now they’re getting married in year 870. so clearly the house of beor doesn’t have ENTIRELY standard human longevity... and yet they’re still worried about erendis dying! (from the appendix: turns out she was 101 when they got married. HM.)

some eldar come to the wedding and give some Parable Presents. they give a white tree to aldarion; “it must have great wood!” he says. “we don’t know,” say the eldar reprovingly. “nobody has ever cut one of these down. they’re too beautiful.” they give a pair of magnetic birds to erendis; “how shall I keep them?” she asks. “let them fly free,” say the eldar. “they’ll always come back to you anyway, they love you.”

they have a daughter a few years later, named ancalime. I think this is the one gogol told me is an awful baby. just after she turns four, dilya goes sailing again. take your daughter with you!! be a good dad!! share your passion with your kids!! well, maybe when she’s older. the image of baby teen ancalime learning to sail with her dad is so precious. except it would make her mom really sad ::( erendis is already sad, actually. she is SO fed up with men right now. she takes ancalime to dwell in sheepland and creates a Magical Foreboding that makes men not want to come to her house. so ancalime never meets any. in most fairy tales, this kind of thing backfires and she falls in love with the first man she meets. but the first man she meets is a 6-year-old kid who offers her some bread because she’s too skinny, so maybe there’s hope.

dilya has been away for 5 years by the time he comes back, despite the fact that he promised he would only be gone for two. nobody is there to greet him at the quay. he goes to his house in the capital and finds it locked and empty. he hears from his father that she went to live in emerie, so he rides there and gets a very cold welcome. “I can see that I don’t have a wife any more,” he says. erendis replies, “well you don’t have a daughter either I GUESS.” the next day he meets ancalime, who is grumpy at having to wake up early and has no clue who he is. he addresses her very charmingly as “lady ancalime,” and then rides off for some kind of errand. erendis gnashes her teeth in vexation, because anardil is being a REAL ASSHOLE to her.

aldarion goes to a party for one of his shipmates’ homecoming; everyone there is happy and his wife and son love him. aldarion is Bitter.

an interlude: meneldur reads the letter his son brought from gil-galad. the letter reads, “your son is a great guy! if possible, please send soldiers for when sauron inevitably attacks us. yrs, gg.”

now back to aldarion! he is still Bitter. he is SO BITTER that he has his house demolished and cuts down all the trees except the white tree, which he names after his daughter. he stares at it and then casually says something that probably links their fates together forever. “I will call you also Ancalimë. May you and she stand so in long life, unbent by wind or will, and unclipped!” a little while later meneldur declares that anardil is going to be king now, so he invites his family for the coronation. scepteration, whatever. erendis declines to come because she hates him, but she lets ancalime come. 

UNFORTUNATELY the story is unfinished and fragmented, so we don’t get to hear how that went. we hear that dilya set off almost immediately after being scepterated, and had a fairly bad time in middle earth. we also hear that ancalime has much the same relationship with court that her father does with the sea; she goes there for long periods and peacocks around and has fun, and then flees back to emerie to recover from overstimulation. she thinks BOTH her parents are right to hate the other and hates the concept of marriage.

“Men would be craftsmen and loremasters and heroes all at once;” says Erendis to her daughter. “And women to them are but fires on the hearth - for others to tend, until they are tired of play in the eve­ning. All things were made for their service: hills are for quarries, river to furnish water or to turn wheels, trees for boards, women for their body's need, or if fair to adorn their table and hearth... Anger they show only when they become aware, suddenly, that there are other wills in the world beside their own.

“Thus it is, Ancalimë, and we cannot alter it. For men fashioned Númenor: men, those heroes of old that they sing of - of their women we hear less, save that they wept when their men were slain. Númenor was to be a rest after war. But if they weary of rest and the plays of peace, soon they will go back to their great play, manslaying and war. Thus it is; and we are set here among them. But we need not assent. If we love Númenor also, let us enjoy it before they ruin it. We also are daughters of the great, and we have wills and courage of our own. Therefore do not bend, Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.”

ANCALIME IS MY FAVORITE TREE. She is determined to be a powerful queen and do Whatever She Wants. “She was clever, and malicious, and saw promise of sport as the prize for which her mother and her father did battle.” oh no. my dear girl. they aren’t doing this for FUN they are doing it so that NO-ONE WILL EVER HAVE FUN AGAIN.

There’s a bunch of low-resolution stuff about the shenanigans Ancalime got into as the king’s heir. she ends up marrying a rather disingenuous shepherd guy to spite her cousin so he won’t ever get to be king, but she doesn’t like being married, as she predicted. she also forbids everyone who works for her from getting married, but her husband arranges a spite party where they’ll all get married and invites her, just to be a dick. her family hates and fears her until she dies, I guess? DEMOTED from favorite tree status. favorite tree is now hirilorn again.

when erendis gets old she wants to see aldarion again, but he’s out voyaging, obviously. she “dies in the water.” probably from the Curse. there’s also a tonnnn of footnotes that I’m not going to read. there we have it! everyone was miserable, and then they died! the moral of the story is, don’t marry someone if you are constantly going to be mad at them for doing what they love.

[anghraine]

Quenya name of the day: Anardil

Anardil: sun-lover; friend of the sun

anar, Sun, possibly related to nár(ë), fire, to which it's sometimes abbreviated in compounds (though not here)

-(n)dil, friend or lover; cf Vardilmë.

Anardil is a masculine name, used at least twice, of:

Tar-Aldarion, sixth King of Númenor, who was born Anardil (and affectionately called Anardilya by his maternal grandfather)

Anardil son of Eärendil, King of Gondor, sixth King of Gondor, great-great-grandson of Anárion. We know little of him except that he was the last king to spend all year in Osgiliath.

[ten-summoners-fails]

My contribution to @gondolinweek , day 5

Being,

1,3k words of Pengolodh’s Overthinking (and me realizing I ADORE his POV, but no, we CANNOT have more POV-s in The Seven Gates, we just CANNOT...)

and... I’m not crying, you’re crying!:(

[ten-summoners-fails]

My contribution to @gondolinweek day 7

Being,

Glorfindel's corrections of the events in Chapter 2.

Apparently, Ecthelion lied to you! :D

[ten-summoners-fails]

THE SEVEN GATES

Chapter 27. Faith and Fallacies

The celebrations were over, the morning light was piercing and cheerful, and Summer had come. The Gondolindrim had left their vigil on the city walls and gone to rest, or enjoyed a rich breakfast; and silence reigned in the Tower of the King. The only sounds came from the study-room; for the King and the five lords that sat around the table were still profoundly engaged in their debate.

According to Tyelcano, the experience was about as pleasant as getting stuck between five different groups of enemy archers.

“So,” said King Turukáno measuredly, “both you and my brother… and Laurefindil…”

“And Nelyafinwë,” said Tyelcano. “That is why he sent me to Barad Eithel: so I would tell Findekáno. He could not go himself, and I was the only one to share his secret; yet alas! I have now broken my promise to keep it. Still, I believe you must know.”

“Indeed,” said Turukáno. “I have not told anyone about these visions myself, which, I am now tempted to think, was a short-sighted decision. Have you, Laurefindil?”

“He told me,” said Ecthelion, “and long since regretted it, for I would not stop pestering him. Had I not dragged him here, he would not sit with us this morn, either.”

“I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” the Lord of the Golden Flower quipped; but he looked at his friend with fondness.

Read on: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078486/chapters/76694729 or https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11979570/27/The-Seven-Gates 

Cover background artwork (c) ALAN LEE