#but idk how Elrond responds

[fuckingfinwions]

in the incest-eromenos au, did maglor ever come back from his wandering and claim elrond/elros as his right? did fingon and maedhros claim gil-galad again after they came back from the halls of mandos? did gil-galad (shamefully, muffling his whimpers into his pillow) miss maedhros's cock and have a toy made?

In the Incest Eromenos AU, a parent's right to their child is specifically for the fifty years after they've come of age. If the parent missed that time with their offspring, it's a sign of a neglectful parent, and the child has no obligation to let their parent fuck them.

However, if the offspring wished to heal a rift between themself and their parent, they could offer to repay that time. And everyone around them would see it as a sign of how virtuous and generous they were, not a sign of perverted fantasies. Some people might even say it's necessary to offer if you want to have a truly familial relationship with your parents, not just a polite acquaintanceship. And as far as anyone but Gil-Galad and Maedhros know, Gil-Galad never yielded to either of his parents.

Gil-Galad tells himself it's for the unity of the Noldor, to promote peace in Valinor by having their kings from all the Ages be on good terms. It's not because Maedhros fucking him was the most erotic experience of his life, or because those few stories of Fingon that Maedhros shared spawned fantasies for years. The very long dildo in Gil-Galad's bedroom is unrelated. (He tried commissioning one by description several times, but they we never right. Eventually he learned woodcarving just to make a toy that matched what he remembered.) Gil-Galad is a noble and wise ruler of his people, and that's the only reason why he's choosing to spend the next fifty years as a fucktoy for two gorgeous elves.

__

Maglor keeps it simple. He just explains that he waited because he was unsure what age was healthy to fuck peredhel. He didn't exercise his right over them when they were in their late teens because that would be insanely young for elves, even though Men are of age.

But now the War of Wrath is over, and the twins are both still under 100. And they had the opportunity to acknowledge Earendil as their father and service him properly, but didn't take it. So by default, they must be admitting Maglor is their father. There's a few practical difficulties of him reaching them without all of Lindon attacking him, but once those are solved Maglor finds his twin sons to be very comforting (and distracting) after the loss of his brother and the Silmarils.

It's not explicitly tradition for siblings to fulfill their parent's request together. But neither is it forbidden. Elrond and Elros certainly enjoy kissing and fondling while Maglor watches, or one of them riding him while the other kisses open their father's hole.

[elyarond]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG.

SPEED: listen ever since i got here in the tolkien fandom,    i’ve been pretty slow.     and that’s mostly for the reason that with elrond, i really do try to sit down and really think my reply over before i give my reply back.      i’ll have days where i write a lot,     i’ll have days where i write very little,    if not at all.     it all depends on the inspiration i have for dadrond at the time.

REPLIES: oh this is a biggie.     my replies are fucking   massive.    and i typically give superiority to threads that have been plotted over the unplotted ones,     simply because i already have an idea of what i want to say.      PLOTTED THREADS ARE MY JAM.     

STARTERS: i only really post starters for things that are plotted,      though i will occasionally post one-liner calls when i’m in need of more interactions.     i want to interact w/ the people i follow,     but i know sometimes approaching is hard   (   i also have this problem   )    the hope is that the one-liner breaks the ice and then we can plot stuff !

INBOX: ngl,     my inbox is never my priority.    i will horde my asks until the ends of the earth,     but i will respond to them in the chance that my drafts aren’t doing it for me at the time.

SELECTIVITY: i’m pretty selective, ngl.    i take exclusives more than mains simply because once i find one portrayal that i adore,    with a mun that i’m comfortable with,    i will begin incorporating that specific version of a character into my own portrayal.     that being said,    it’s normally just for the immediate people.    (    romantic partners,  children,   immediate family,    other significant relationships,   etc.    )     

WISHLIST: don’t hate me but i surprisingly don’t have one.

HONEST NOTE:  listen i’m a potato,    i will admit this.     but please never feel intimidated to reach out !    9/10,    i’ve been wanting to interact w/ u but have been too shy to do it.     also,     just to throw this out there,     plotting with me doesn’t always necessarily mean plotting potential threads.     just let us talk about our characters,     their relationship with each other,     events in their lives,     and the plotting juices will go from there.

TAGGED BY:  idk man i stole it. TAGGING:  @laurelote, @daethward, @finarfiniel, @aeternitie, @undomael, @peredhellen, @luktiene and whoever hasn’t done it !

[actualmermaid]

If I were a horrible, horrible person and wanted to make everyone (including myself) sad on a Monday morning, I'd ask for the DVD commentary on The Bit Where Amras Happens (or rather The Bit Where Amras Stops Happening) in Pieces of the Stars...

It would take Elrond many years to piece together the significance of the events directly following the sack of Sirion. At the time he only understood two things: playing the same mancala game with Elros and Osgardir the healer for hours on end, and the sound of Amras crying for his mother in the next room.

This opening paragraph was one of the first bits of this fic that I ever wrote, months and months ago before I ever had a plan or a writing schedule or any motivation to finish it. I tried to establish that a lot of the cohesive narrative is an adult’s understanding of the things he witnessed as a child, but still keep the child’s fear and confusion apparent in the narrative and let the contextual details tell the reader what’s going on. Idk if it worked—the first couple of Kid POV chapters were VERY DIFFICULT.

Anyway, Amras. Readers should understand that he’s dying at this point, even though we don’t see him. Elrond understands him crying for his mother, and the next couple of paragraphs talk about Elwing trying to get the kids to safety, so there’s sort of a parallel of two frightened boys who want their mothers (though of course one frightened “boy” is actually a dying Kinslayer, and the other is an actual boy who’s a victim in all this)

Maglor and Maedhros—that was two, but Mother had said three of the sons of Fëanor remained, all of them pursuing the Jewel with a single-minded obsession. “Who is the third brother?” Elrond asked, and Osgardir looked surprised at the question.

”That is Amras,” he said. “The youngest. He is badly hurt, so I put him to bed next door where he’ll be more comfortable. But you need not worry about him either. Shall we start another game?”

I often forget about Amras, and I think a lot of other writers also kind of forget he’s there and just sort of mention his death offhand, if at all. But he was one of the last survivors, and Elwing would have carried his reputation out of Doriath along with Maedhros’ and Maglor’s, so I tried to give him more of a presence at the beginning of the story. Maedhros and Maglor would have loved him and Elrond and Elros would have known and feared him.

The next bit is the important part:

Maglor came into the infirmary only infrequently and usually without purpose. He would stand in the doorway, stare at Maedhros or the boys for a moment, and then leave again without saying anything. The arguments outside continued until the sounds of Amras’ suffering climbed to a constant scrape that set every hair on end, and Maglor returned to the infirmary, this time with purpose.

”Your drugs are doing nothing for him!” he nearly shouted at Osgardir.

The healer frowned. “How much have you given him?”

”All of it!”

Osgardir stood with a rattle of his mail coat and pulled Maglor behind the folding screen. “How long since the last dose?”

”About an hour!”

”He should be asleep! I can do nothing but make it easier before—” a sharp brown eye peered out of the gap between the screen panels. “Little pitchers have big ears,” he muttered, and then their voices dropped to a register that Elrond couldn’t make out, no matter how hard he strained.

After a short discussion, the two men emerged. Wordlessly, Osgardir went to his medicine case and began mixing several different things together in a mug while Maglor stood by, tapping his fingers in a constant rhythm on his crossed arms. He waited and stared at the boys, then the healer, then his brother, and then Elrond and Elros for a moment longer.

Thank you,” he said when Osgardir handed him the mug.

Osgardir did not look at him. “The faster he drinks it, the quicker it will be.”

Maglor hesitated, nodded once, and then departed.

Amras stopped crying a short time later.

I spent quite a bit of time pondering the implications of euthanasia for an immortal species, and if anyone wants to get into that, I’ll leave them to it. The main emotion here is desperation, as Maglor is stretched between several forces and also trying to comfort his dying brother, and they are running out of time to try and give him a peaceful, comfortable death. The next best thing they can give him is a quick release from pain, so I try and call attention to the cocktail of drugs so that the reader knows what’s going on here. I meant for the final line to deliver much more meaning than is included in the words: Amras stopped crying. He’s gone, and he isn’t mentioned again until later, and then in the past tense.

Osgardir, My Best Dude, also gets some good characterization in these scenes. The others sort of see Elrond and Elros as mere unfortunates or obstacles, but Osgardir knows that they’re frightened and lonely and wants to help them as children, not just as The Sons Of Elwing.

Nearby, what he had mistaken for a shaggy bush moved its head and revealed itself instead to be Maedhros’ hunched figure. Maglor crouched next to him.

”Tell me,” Maedhros muttered.

”It was quick,” Maglor said. “He took the cup from me, and slept, and then…”

”Only we remain.”

”Yes.”

Maedhros did not respond. Maglor, also silent, remained with him.

This paragraph was actually the last part of the chapter I wrote before publishing. I always wondered if I should have Maedhros and Maglor talk about Amras again before he comes up in chapter 2, and one of my betas also suggested bringing him up again, so I added this bit to show that they’re still thinking about him. I also did want to show that Amras took the cup from Maglor, that he knew what it was and that he wanted it.

I ended up getting a lot of good feedback on how I handled The Amras Situation, which I was happy to receive. I worried that people would think I was trying to be overly edgy, or tell me that euthanizing him would be somehow contrary to Tolkien’s Vision or whatever, but overall I am satisfied with how I tied in his death with the beginning of the story as kind of a death/rebirth/transition between ages motif that will come up several more times before the end of the fic. And I do actually feel strongly about people’s right to a dignified death IRL, so I’m glad to have included the topic even though I am trying to keep it from being a hamhanded issuefic.

[cycas]

I tried not to respond to this, but I failed. 

‘never leaves the Halls of Mandos’ - I don’t think we actually know this, do we?  I think what we are told is that there’s no word of him leaving. So, maybe he’s in the Darkness, whatever that is.  Or maybe he left in the Fourth Age, after the Red Book was written.  Or maybe he left earlier, invented space travel and is still out there somewhere left of Alpha Centauri but the Elves don’t like to talk about it, idk. 

‘never speaks to his relatives while there’ - where’s that come from? I thought I’d read the Fëanor & Mandos bits of HoME pretty thoroughly but I don’t remember that. 

‘ the smaller and meaner he gets until by Losgar there’s almost nothing left. ‘

I feel that Cirdan might have something to say against this, since he was besieged by orcs and losing when Fëanor arrived with his army.

After Losgar,  Fëanor relieved the Falas, drove Morgoth’s armies out of Hithlum,  learned Northern Sindarin, then charged into battle against multiple Balrogs.  OK, he lost, and you may well think he was a fool for trying it, but it’s not nothing. He also made his sons repeat their Oath, and I don’t know if that mattered or not, but it feels like it may have done. 

‘just admit he was an idiot.’

I’m happy to agree that Fëanor did a lot of things that were either wrong (threatening his brother, Alqualondë, burning the ships), or turned out to be a bad idea (burning the ships,  the Oath, charging into battle against Balrogs, confronting the Valar instead of trying to persuade them.)  He was definitely proud and resentful, and arguably also petty.

But idiot doesn’t seem the right word.

He was right that action needed to be taken against Morgoth, and sooner rather than later, and right that the Valar would follow him in the end. What he was wrong about was how to do it, but tbh I’m not sure I would have done any better, given that the Valar weren’t entirely handling the situation well either.  

 Fëanor was proud and vengeful and probably not entirely sane at the end, but without him the story of Middle-earth would have had an even darker ending.  No Cirdan, no Elrond, no Lorien, no Gondor. No Hobbits. Only Morgoth, and Doriath for as long as Doriath managed to stand against him. 

And if we are talking of fits of the sulks, “The Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also.” is also a pretty good example.  Not enough Pity and Mercy from everyone going on here. 

@phoenixrisesoncemore’s post on George MacDonald got me thinking, by connection, of a line in CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce (where George MacDonald -who Lewis greatly admired - is cast as sort of a spirit guide, along the lines of Virgil in The Divine Comedy).

The Great Divorce is, in the main, a discussion of the reasons why a person might willfully refuse heaven, and it had one line in particular that brought The Silmarillion sharply to my mind.

There is always something they insist on keeping, even at the price of misery. There is always something they prefer to joy - that is, to reality. You see it easily enough in a spoiled child that would sooner miss its play and its supper than say it was sorry and be friends. Ye call it the Sulks. But in adult life it has a thousand fine names - Achilles’ wrath and Coriolanus’ grandeur, Revenge and Injured Merit and Self-Respect and Tragic Greatness and Proper Pride.

That’s Fëanor, encapsulated - childish sulking posing as epic tragedy. That’s why he never leaves the Halls of Mandos and never speaks to his relatives while there, because it’s easier to feel wronged and resentful and wrathful and proud and injured than to just admit he was an idiot.

And it is a tragedy all the same, because he did have vast potential for good, and he created wonderful things, and all across his life, the more he lets himself be consumed by pride and resentment and pettiness, the more he makes himself the centre of his world, the smaller and meaner he gets until by Losgar there’s almost nothing left.

[theepolynesian]

The Elf and the Dwarf (ch. 4)

Summary: Erebor was reclaimed and the line of Durin had not ended. You were an elf and now that your quest was over, you didn’t know what to do especially since you gained feelings for a certain King Under the Mountain.

Chapter Summary: Visits and Apologies

Chapter Categories: Humor, Small Bit of Angst, I guess. Idk

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

The next month passes by quickly. Half of the dwarves helped rebuild Dale including the Company minus Thorin, Fili and Balin. Since becoming the heir to the throne, there was a lot that he needed to learn and both Balin and Thorin helped him with that. Some dwarves also chose to stay behind to protect and rebuild Erebor.

Y/n had not seen any of the members of the Company aside from Bilbo. He had not yet gone home and chose to wait until the Coronation was over to leave. Of course, he sent word to Drogo asking him to watch over the place incase any of those Sackville-Bagginses came by. He once told y/n that they were an annoying bunch especially that Lobelia and she laughed.

Half of the Kingdom of Mirkwood also aided, but Rivendell did not. Bard did not want the Rivendell elves to make this long journey especially since they had enough help as it is.

Lord Elrond returned home, reminding y/n to be conscious of her heart. The question of choosing a mortal life came up once again and for once in y/n’s life, Lord Elrond snapped at her saying that because he was not her father, he did not have a say. That shocked her, but it made sense. While her brothers and Arwen looked alike, she was different. She was shorter and more humanlike.

After apologizing for snapping at her, Lord Elrond explained that she was given to him by her father for safekeeping. There was a certain darkness that was brewing and it was not safe for her. He had also explained that her mother was of the human race and had died during childbirth.

She had, once again, asked about the mortal life and he told her, rather reluctantly, that she could choose to become mortal whenever she wanted to, but advised her not to do so just yet and she didn’t.

Y/n has been getting daily visits from Bilbo and continued to spend a lot of her time with Bard’s children, teaching them to protect themselves with the permission of their father.

He didn’t want them to be so defenseless like they were when orcs attacked their home. What started off as three children began to turn into 20 children/teens, 30 dwarves and 40 men. Training them had become a part of y/n’s daily life.

“Alright children, remember!” y/n shouts as the lessons come to an end.

“Always keep your guard up,” they respond. Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid help her with putting the weapons away. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing here, lass,” a voice from the doorway says and they all turn to find Dwalin with his usual weapons attached to his back.

The children look at her and she nods towards the door. They leave her alone with the dwarf warrior.

“It’s the least I could do after Bard’s kind hospitality,” she says, pulling a tarp over the weapons. The only weapons the children were allowed to use were wooden sticks and dull arrows.

“You could be doing the same thing in Erebor!” Dwalin argues as he takes a seat on one of the chairs.

“I’m not going back to Erebor. I’ve made a life here in Dale. I have a purpose,” she tells him.

“Which is the same purpose that was supposed to keep you at Erebor!” he shouts and she winces, tucking her hair behind her ears, a habit she had when she was scared.

Dwalin sighs, knowing exactly why she tucked her hair behind her ears.

“I didn’t mean to scare you lass. I really didn’t. It’s just that it’s not the same without you,” he tells her, massaging his temples.

“And yet, its been a month and the only person that came to visit me was Bilbo. It is obvious that I do not matter to the company given the fact that no one had even made the small effort to say hello. I’m fine Dwalin. I love it here. I belong here,” she tells him, pulling out her bow and aiming for the targets located both high and low.

“Is it because you’re with people who are the same height?” he asks and that causes her to miss her target and smash into the wall behind. That question had taken her aback. She was never one to judge anyone and he knew that. For him to suggest that was an insult to her heart.

“Why would you even ask such a question?” she asks him, gaining her concentration back.

“Because it’s obvious. You have more in common with the people here than you do in Erebor.”

“It is highly insulting, master dwarf that you think I left you all behind because of a simple height difference. While it is true that I have more in common with the race of men, that is not the reason I left,” she says, plucking her arrows out from their intended targets.

“Then why?”

“Because I cannot stand to look at Thorin knowing that he will never love me back!” she shouts, rounding on him.

She sighs, not believing that her temper got the best of her yet again. She must pull more of her mother’s side rather than her father’s side.

“My father warned me of dying of a broken heart and by staying here I will not do so,” she says putting her arrows back.

She walks to the door and he follows her.

“Will you at least come to Erebor tonight? For the coronation. The city of Dale has been invited. I don’t see why you wouldn’t come,” he tells her.

“I am going, but as a guard. I have become Bard’s personal advisor and guard in exchange for a place to stay,” she tells him.

SECOND PERSON POV: (A/n: parts below belong to my short little imagine thingy. Well technically it belonged to this story. Continue on)

You both turn the corner only to be pushed to the ground in a heap of limbs.

You look up to find Fili smiling down at you.

“You know, when I imagined being between two dwarves, this is not what I was thinking of,” you say, smirking up at him.

He smirks back and asks, “oh yeah? And who is the other dwarf?”

“Not you,” you reply, shoving him off and standing up.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Dwalin growls as you help him up and you can’t help but send a wink his way.

“Dwalin and Thorin eh? I can’t say that I didn’t see it coming,” Fili mutters and you just punch him in his shoulder.

“What do you want Fili? Besides wanting to feel me up?” you ask him as you walk back to the way he came.

“Uncle let me have a free day and I wanted to come and visit you and apologize for not talking to you sooner,” he says, hanging his head in shame.

“It’s something that’ll take a while to forgive, but I’ll work on it my little lion man,” you respond. He looks at you, smiling slightly.

“Now about that fantasy of yours,” he starts and you tug his mustache braids, making him shut up. You look to Dwalin as he chuckles.

“What I wouldn’t give,” he says and you blush.

“Where is Kili?” You ask trying to change the subject. “Probably having sex with that elf of his,” Fili shrugs. “You sure are horny aren’t you?” you ask him. “Want to do something about it?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. You tug on his mustache braids again.

“You’re getting on my last nerves. Anyway, her name is Tauriel and you’d do well to remember your future sister in law,” you tell him.

He shrugs.

“How is managing the gold coming along?” You ask. “Balin is the only one that Thorin trusts to enter it. Not even Dain. It is getting harder and Balin has been trying to put it away but there’s just so much one can do,” he informs you and you nod.

“That’s when you’re supposed to offer help lassie,” Dwalin says. “What can I do? Your kin do not like elves so they would not like me. Besides you guys must’ve had treasurers before why not create them now?” you ask.

“Because trust lies low in the walls. Especially with Thorin being almost killed,” Dwalin growls out and you stop, heart beating hard. 

“It’s fine lass. Thorin can handle himself. Tossed the dwarf out of Erebor. Ever since then his trust dwindled down to those of the company,” Dwalin explains. You sometimes hated how he could see right through you, but majority of the time you were grateful.

“I would’ve strangled that dwarf myself. Any who, instead of putting just Balin, put Kili and Nori there too. I know Nori is the last person you’d want there but who else can you spare? Oin is a healer, Gloin needs to keep those furnaces going, Bifur makes money by selling toys, Bombur is busy cooking, Bofur is busy mining, and Dori is too busy henning over Ori while he’s working on his scribes. Those two are the only ones available,” you explain.

“Which is why we need you back,” Fili presses. “I can’t. I’m an advisor for the King. The only advisor,” you say.

“Uncle never mentioned it,” Fili mutters.

“Not a surprise. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since basically calling me a traitor. Your King is a piece of work,” you huffs. “Thank you,” a gruff voice says. 

You all turn right to find Thorin.

You immediately look down, embarrassed.

“Fili, Dwalin. I have a meeting with Bard and ask for you two to attend. I will be there in a moment,” Thorin says and Fili looks at you nervously.

“Go on little lion man,” you say, smiling at him.

He nods and the two dwarves walk away trying and failing to remember when the council room is.

“Y/n. I shall hope that you are well,” he starts, trying to make small talk. “As well as I can get I suppose,” you say. He sighs.

“We did not leave off on the right foot did we?” He asks as you both continue walking. “No we did not, but that’s how we always are, isn’t it? Always getting into fights. Never liking each other,” you say, putting your arms behind your back.

“I never said that I didn’t like you,” he replies.

“It was implied. It has always been implied from the moment I met you. It’s because of the ears,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. Thorin only cracks a little smile, but it is gone in a second.

“That was not my intention,” he says. “And yet that’s what it seemed like. What are you doing here Thorin?” you ask him, stopping. You just wanted him to get to the point.

“I came here to apologize. For everything. For treating you like filth, for not trusting you, for like you said basically calling you a traitor. Just for everything that I have done to you out of ill-will,” he lets out looking you in the eyes.

“It’s going to take me a while to forgive you, Thorin,” you say.

“And i know that and I will wait for eternity if I have to,” he replies and you giggle. “You’re a silly dwarf,” you respond. He just smiles in return and you continue walking.

“So about you, me and Dwalin,” Thorin says, smirking. Your face turns very red.

“Nothing to be discussed,” you retort, quickening your pace and he just watches you, laughing.

A/N: Sorry, this is absolute shit and is absolutely rushed. As per usual, this story was written for myself so if you see any mistakes, that’s probably why. I also wrote this whole story (and am continuing to write it) after I finished watching The Almighty Johnsons so you see a bit of Anders in here. I apologize for this crap and I’ll try to make future chapters better.