#eonweweek

[quinthejester]

Eönwë Week - War

I couldn't help myself, I had to draw a showdown between Eönwë and Sauron during the War of Wrath. I think Sauron gets decimated lmao

@eonweweek

[cilil]

Eönwë Week - Day 1: Genesis

𓅛 Characters: Eönwë, Manwë & Eru 𓅛 Synopsis: The first of the Maiar awakens. 𓅛 Warnings: / 𓅛 Triple drabble

He comes into existence with one timid note of song, akin to a gasp of breath, and the first thing he senses is that he's held by a mighty presence and watched by others, like him but bigger. 

The young spirit curls in on himself, frightened.

"Behold the first of the Maiar." 

The others draw closer now, reaching out to make themselves known. He avoids them at first, until suddenly he senses one who feels familiar. 

They are... alike, this older spirit and he. 

"Father," a voice exclaims then, "Father, I sense that he shares my element. Will he be like me?"

"In a way, yes," the presence — Father — says. "The Maiar shall be the younger of the Ainur, smaller in stature and sharing the elements and domains of you, the Valar. Your task will be to teach and guide them, and their task will be to learn and serve."

Father brings him closer to the older spirit, and he finally uncurls just enough to see. Yes, that one is less frightening; his spirit feels warm, kind and gentle like a summer breeze, though the newborn Maia doesn't know yet what it means. 

He reaches out, just one tiny, trembling tendril of spirit, and is pulled closer. It's comfortable around this Vala, he thinks happily; in the future he will remember this moment being akin to a baby bird hiding in its parent's plumage. 

"What is his name, Father?" 

"He will be swift and he will be steadfast, strong like the mightiest of your creatures, yet gentle at heart, like you. He will dutifully carry your messages and fiercely defend those he holds dear." 

Father pauses. Then — 

"His name shall be Eönwë."

"Hello, little Eönwë," the Vala coos, delighted. "I am called Manwë."

And Eönwë has loved him ever since. 

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

[eonweweek]

Hello everyone! In a little more than a month Eönwë Week will run and we are very excited to see what you will come up with.

Here are the prompts for the event:

🦅 August 12th: -> Genesis | Air | Almaren

🦅 August 13th: -> Friendships | Herald | Valinor

🦅 August 14th: -> War | Celeg Aithorn | Beleriand

🦅 August 15th: -> Romance | Mercy | Taniquetil

🦅 August 16th: -> Lost Tales | He Of The Sun | Son of Manwë

🦅 August 17th: -> Eagles | Duty | Noldor

🦅 August 18th: -> Freeform

See you soon !

[cyraes]

A Loyal Knight - Sun priestess Arien AU for @eonweweek Day 4 : Romance

Matching drabble by @cilil

posting the lineart only, will colour it later.

[elennalore]

Where have you gone, my friend?

Eönwë in Almaren after Mairon went missing.

My art for @eonweweek Day 1. Prompt: Almaren

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 2 for @eonweweek

"Lessons in war"

Prompt: Friendships      

Pairing: Eönwë & Ingwion

Themes: Soft

Warnings: None

Word count: 1K words

Summary: As preparation for the War of Wrath, Eönwë trains his friend, Prince Ingwion, on the art of swordplay.

A/n: for this story, I wrote Telimektar as being a Maia who serves Tulkas.

“You did well for your first lesson,” Eönwë said, “but there is more to be done, my prince.”

Ingwion sighed. He had been thrown to the dirt with ease, and he prayed none of the others bore witness to his defeat. Presently he said, “What must I do, my lord?”

“You must watch the placement of your feet,” Eönwë said, extending his hand, “the swing of your body, and the flow of your arms. If you do not, they will betray your every move to the enemy, just like they betrayed your every move to me mere moments ago. Come. Let us try again.” 

Prince Ingwion grasped the hand that was offered and was pulled back to his feet. “I fear my hands were crafted for the wielding of quills,” he said, his chest heaving from exertion. “And my feet and body were made for the elegance of dance, never the elegance of swordplay. But I will try again, my lord. I swore an oath when I answered the call to arms, and I mean to honor it.”   

“Good.” Eönwë returned the prince’s sword, and he went back to his own position. All around them the sounds of swords clashing, and flails and maces smashing against heavy armor and shields, filled the air. A great war loomed before them, and the warriors who answered the call to arms tested one another to their limits in Valimar’s great sparring yard. They could not afford to fail; to do so meant that Melkor would gain complete mastery of Endorë and possibly beyond. “Now take your place,” the Maia commanded, “and let us begin.”

Ingwion took a moment to compose himself. Then he charged at his opponent with a cry and swung his sword. Eönwë answered with greater skill and swiftness. The sheer force of his blade striking true made the prince grit his teeth in pain. Nevertheless, Ingwion preserved, and he pressed forward a second time. Eönwë did not falter. He countered without a moment’s hesitation, his sword slicing through the air in a glittering silvery arc. It rang with a great clangor as steel cut into steel. Ingwion, shocked, drew back and glanced at his sword; it bore a deep notch.

“Again,” Eönwë said. “Attack me again.” 

The elf circled him, alert and silent. He could never best Eönwë; no elf could ever best a Maia who was at their most powerful. Still, he had to try. He was the crown prince, after all, and it was he who had to lead the Vanyar in the war that was to come. He could not call an end to the fighting so quickly.

The others finished their training. They gathered around the prince and the herald in a circle to watch. Some even held wagers. Ingwion paid little attention to them. He set his thoughts on the one before him instead and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, determined to do better. Eönwë smiled, and he waited. 

Ingwion pressed the attack for the third time. Eönwë countered him with a masterful swing of the sword, and he forced him back. The prince narrowed his eyes. Then he lunged with all his might. Eönwë was prepared for this. In one swift move, he slid to the side, his blade glinting as it caught the golden light of the sun. It fell before anyone could even perceive it, knocking the sword clean out of Ingwion’s hand. The prince stopped, gasping for breath. He turned to face his friend and mentor, ashamed he had failed so easily. 

“Do not give your heart over to shame and disappointment,” Eönwë counseled. He picked up the fallen sword and returned it to the prince. “Failure must be expected, especially now that you have only just begun your training. And you have much time still, to master the sword.” 

“You are not angry?”

“I am not, my friend. Besides, I am Ainu. You are elf-kind. I can never expect you to unarm me.” 

The others left, talking quietly among themselves. Ingwion, on the other hand, followed Eönwë to the little hall, where warriors would gather to eat and drink. Here, beneath the light of gilded lamps affixed to hooks in the ceiling, they kept to themselves and dined on a simple meal of bread and stew and wild berries in honey. An attendant pressed a cup of golden Miruvórë into the prince’s hand. He took a sip and sighed in contentment. The beverage was warm and fragrant, and it revived him, filled him with renewed vigor, and drove away the aches he felt in his limbs. 

“You did well, truly,” Eönwë said. He savored a spoonful of stew, and a small bite of bread. “And you must not be disheartened by your loss. War is wholly new to the Vanyar, and the use of weapons besides. I will teach you all that I know. And I will guide you when we are in Endorë. You will not have to shoulder your burdens alone.”

“Tis strange,” Ingwion said. Another attendant set down a platter of tiny fish roasted to crackling on their table. The prince helped himself to a few, closing his eyes in delight when they crunched between his teeth. “Before the Mariner arrived, you and I whiled away our hours indulging in poetry and delicious food and song. Now, we must spend our time learning the many intricacies of war. I must confess, I never thought such a thing possible.”

“Aye,” Eönwë agreed. “War was not thought of by many, until elf rose against elf in Alqualondë.”

“There you are!” Telimektar cried. The Maia of Tulkas stood by the lip of the doorway, his harp in hand. He was not alone. Ilmarë stood a pace behind him, her silver-pink hair woven into thick braids. “Dining by yourselves and speaking quietly. This will not do. This will not do at all.”

“What do you propose, my lord?” Ingwion said, beaming. No chamber remained quiet for long after Telimektar arrived. 

“A song,” Telimektar told him. He crossed over to the table where the prince and the herald sat, and he found a seat for himself by Ingwion’s left. Ilmarë found herself a seat by Eönwë’s right. “What say you, my lords? My lady? Would any of you care for a melody or two?” 

“A song would do just nicely,” Eönwë said. He grinned when he caught the twinkle in Telimaktar’s eyes. The Maia would sing a bawdy air, no doubt, and make them all flush from cheek to chest. “Begin, my friend! Grace our ears with something delightful.”

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[wormedeye]

day 4: romance @eonweweek

🕊️Characters: Eönwë x male elf OC (whose lore i will probably drop in the tags)

🕊️Synopsis: Eönwë’s young apprentice wants to heal him after the sword training

🕊️Warnings: implied self-harm, bc eönwë’s a lil depressed, english is not my first language, 700+ drabble that turned out to be 1k+ drabble.

🕊️someday it will be on ao3

His sleeves were rolled up slightly above the elbow. The tunic was loose enough, though when Eönwë raised his sword to strike his muscles still strained the linen cloth. Dear Eru.

“Look, how I’m holding it.” Eönwë repeated the move once again,more slowly. “You don’t cut straight, tilt it slightly.”

Laireno nodded, trying to memorise everything from how his arms move to the expression on his face. Eönwë stopped and stuck the blade in the ground and folded his hands on the pommel.

“Now you.”

Laireno breathed out, took his sword and tried to repeat everything his mentor was doing. Eönwë watched silently, until he suddenly interrupted the elda in the middle of a move. Laireno froze obediently, frowning slightly from strain.

Eönwë walked behind the elf’s back and placed his hand on the elf’s forearm, just short of the elbow. Laireno understood the unspoken order and unbent his arm until Eönwë stopped him. And something was still bothering him, so he also corrected the direction of the sword, bending the elf’s hand. The linen sleeve crept up Eönwë‘s arm, following the movement, revealing a bandage hidden beneath.

“Your hands are shaking.” The Maia noticed. “Are you tired?”

Laireno shook his head desperately.

“No, Sir, just trying not to move.”

“Do tell me, if you are, and we will take a break or finish for today, alright? I don’t want you to overtire yourself.”

“Okay.”

Eönwë returned to where he was standing and told him to repeat the whole thing from the beginning. Laireno did. He tried really hard, wanting to impress his mentor. He had listened closely, he had watched carefully, he could repeat this movement that Eönwë was coprrectingfor the second time already.

“That’s it.” Eönwë finally commanded. “You need to rest.”

Laireno lowered his sword and looked at the Maia with hope in his eyes.

“Did I do it? Was it good?”

Eönwë almost smiled.

“Yes. You did very well.”

Laireno beamed, and then Eönwë couldn’t hold back a small smile. A strange, incorrect smile, but still a smile. It was never right on Eönwë‘s face. He always frowned for some reason, sometimes even lowering the corners of his lips instead of raising them like everyone. Like he wasn’t truly happy. But Laireno was, every time he saw his mentor smile.

Eönwë leaned on his sword stuck in the ground, staring off into the distance. Silent and pensive. Laireno couldn’t take his eyes off him, a small, but a very strong intrusive thought not leaving his head, a question he was dying to ask. He paced back and forth, tugging at the hem of his clothes, gathering his courage. Finally, he couldn’t hold it any longer and strode determinedly over to his mentor. Eönwë immediately turned his head to the elf, shifting all his attention from his thoughts to his young apprentice. Laireno lost a half of his former confidence, but didn’t give up.

“Sir Eönwë, do you-” He lowered his gaze, unable to hold eye contact with the Maia. “Are you-”

“Don’t be afraid, I don’t peck, I don’t bite.” The herald said softly, encouraging the elf to continue.

Laireno took a deep breath.

“Are you injured?” He blurted out, his eyes still locked on the grass. “I saw a bandage on your arm, and I thought- I was worried-”

His fuse faded and he fell silent, waiting for an answer. Eönwë did not speak a word as well. Laireno raised his head and met his mentor’s detached, almost defensive gaze. He hadn’t expected such a question. Maybe didn’t even want it. Laireno regretted asking it.

“I- Yes.” Eönwë said slowly. “Yes, you could say that.”

He straightened, and Laireno had to raise his head higher.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Eönwë said a little softer.

He jerked his sword out of the ground, stepped aside and leaned his back on a tree, wincing a little as the bark scratched the tender skin between his wings. That don’t make Laireno stop worrying, not even a little, the exact opposite had happened.

He ran up to his mentor with an almost teary look.

“I’m sorry, please, I didn’t want to disturb you, I didn’t mean- I just- Y-you might be in pain, and i’m stressing you with this training, I don’t want you to feel bad-“ Laireno stuttered. “I just- I wanted to help, but you probably don’t need help, you’re a Maia, you can heal yourself, and-“

“Hush, owlet.” Laireno stopped talking and stared up at Eönwë with his big star-like eyes. “It’s alright. You haven’t hurt me nor stressed me out in any way. On the contrary, I appreciate you care so much.”

Laireno sighed.

“But… You can cure it, right?” He asked hopefully.

“It’s-“ Eönwë turned away. “It’s not a wound I can heal.”

Realising he had said more than he should, he added immediately.

“Though it will heal soon, don’t worry.”

“Please,” Laireno pleaded and got down on one knee, taking Eönwë‘s hand in his. “Please, let me help you.”

“Laireno, I beg you, get up.” the herald whispered in a faltering voice, looking a little shocked.

The elf shook his head desperately. Unfortnately for his mentor, he was stubborn and determined.

“I know how to do it, I learnt so I could do it at war…” Laireno stopped and squeezes Eönwë‘s hand. “I want to heal you.”

The Maia knelt with a heavy sigh, to look his apprentice in the eyes.

“Laireno, sweet Laireno” Eönwë‘s voice was gentle and sad. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to.”

Eönwë sighed and relented. He was unable to refuse, unable to look in those shining eyes he couldn’t bear to see unhappy.

“Fine.”

He released his hand from the grip of Laireno’s warm palms carefully and rolled his sleeve up reluctantly. The elda sat at his mentor’s side immediately and touched the bandage with trembling fingers. He was visibly nervous.

Eönwë was sitting with his head lowered as the young elf untied his bandage. Layer by layer, there were not many. Noe Laireno could see four red stripes, very contrasting on the Maria’s unearthly pale skin. Today’s sword practise had disturbed the scratches that had barely closed up.

Laireno’s gaze shifted involuntarily to his mentor’s hands. His nails were cut unusually short. Laireno didn’t ask anything, aware of Eönwë‘s unwillingness to talk, but he couldn’t keep himself from stroking the skin an inch above the top cut. Eönwë frowned, his head hanging even lower.

The elda cupped the herald’s arm with his palms, feeling how tense the muscles under his hands are.

“Relax, please.” Laireno said with a look of a serious healer.

Eönwë took a glance at his apprentice. It was very obvious the elf was taking this extremely seriously. His lips were pressed in a thin line, his blond eyebrows drawn together, his eyes focused on the wound in front of him. It was…endearing.

Eönwë turned away again, relaxing as much as he could.

Laireno took a deep breath, closed his eyes and started humming something slow. The scratches began to heal. Eönwë felt a slight tingle in his skin, but didn’t move and even held his breath.

Soon the humming stopped, and the warmth of Laireno’s hands left Eönwë‘s shoulder. There were just thin whitish lines where the cuts had been.

“That’s it.” Laireno said quietly, folding his hands on his laps like a good student.

“Who taught you that?”

“Estë’s Maia, Sir. She said that if i want to be a knight, I should be able to heal as good as I fight, because…” he begun to tug on his shirt again. “Because, a knight must help those he care about, know how to save the, and-“

The elf fell silent again, unable to fight his embarrassment. hen he looked at Eönwë pleadingly and whispered “Please, don’t do it again.”

Eönwë smiled his wrong smile again.

“I won’t.”

He took Laireno’s hands in his.

“Thank you, owlet.”

[urwendii]

For the Eönwë headcanons! 3, 7, 8 and 9 please🤗

What kind of relationship does he have with Manwë? Varda? Ilmarë?

I'm a BoLT girlie first so to me Eön is Manwë's son hatchling and i always think of him and Ilmarë as siblings. They are not necessarilly close to each other, Eönwë is closer from Manwë while Ilmarë takes more after Varda but they do respect each other. His relationship with Varda is a bit less maternal I'd say but that's mainly because of Varda's personality still she has faith in his abilties and definitely feels proud when he goes after uncle Melkor.

A fanon idea you dislike ?

Pure Christian-Compliant Eönwë is not my fav just because it's usually a gateway for Purity and anti-lgbt sentiment, that yes I have seen on here, so I'm usually very careful with how it's used by people. Painting a character that is basically a weapon and has been leading a war host for entire decades, as anything but pure is not understanding the horrors of the War of Wrath I think. Yes Eön is good, yes he's kind, but he's also a multidimensional character that in some versions does very much chops Melkor's feet off and breaks Arda. Let him have a temper, let him have an edge, let him have flaws and darkness inside of him. it's so much more interesting that way.

Your fav Eönwë platonic/friendship relationship ?

I should give him friends yes

Eönwë and Amarëa tbh, he's not the father but he's the father who stepped up. (not that he had a choice in that matter actually.) Even when she grew up, he's her fav person.  Beside I think he took it upon himself to make sure she would not be impacted by whatever ongoing fuckery her actual neurotic dad is doing in Middle Earth.

For canon friendship I like his friendship with Arafinwë (sorry i do not ship them aha)

Your fav Eönwë romantic relationship ?

how dare you make me choose... but alright i will have to go and say it's Eönwë x Arien not only bc it's actually canon he loves her but also because the parallels between Manwë x Varda and Ëarendil x Elwing are too good to be ignored.

Tolkien obsessed with shipping celestial bodies with birds ? more likely than you might think. Also i truly think nothing is sexier than a good man breaking the world and slaying Satan to avenge your honour. Sorry, but it's this or nothing.

[silvergiftingweek]

Silvergifting Week 2024 is now over. A big ✨thank you✨ for everyone who participating by creating art, fic, photo edit, or fic rec, and everyone who read and viewed, liked and commented and gave kudos to things posted. You made this week special! ✨💖✨

I'm going to check the tag #silvergiftingweek for late entries, too.

And if you're looking for other things to do in the Tolkien/Silm fandom, let me rec a couple of themed weeks happening on Tumblr that might interest you:

Eönwë Week: August 12-18 @eonweweek

Ainur Week: September 1-9 @ainurweek

Imladris Week: September 16-22 @imladrisweek

Silm Smut Week: September 30- October 6 @silmsmutweek

See you around!

-mod @elennalore

[quinthejester]

Eönwë Week - Freeform

my magnificent bird boi

@eonweweek

[cilil]

Eönwë Week - Day 7: Freeform - Etymology

AN: So I promised to compile this a while ago and finally got to it. Enjoy!

Today's topic: A possible etymology and Valarin version for Eönwë (idea dump)

𓅛 The meaning of the name "Eönwë" is unfortunately unknown. The only thing we know for certain is the suffix "-wë", as it also occurs in many other names, which means simply person, being or individual. Fun fact: While it's generally masculine, it's not exclusively so, the main example being Elenwë.

𓅛 Before receiving the name Eönwë, he was known as Fionwë. For Fionwë we do have a meaning: "Fion" is glossed as hawk and/or haste, which I'm sure has many of you thinking "oh yeah that fits" right now and I agree.

𓅛 So we find ourselves in a bit of a weird spot where we have an old name that fits and gives us an idea what it could have been about and a new name without a clear meaning. I have a few ideas how to solve this, but please keep in mind that I'm not trying to do completely accurate and squeaky clean linguistics here, I'll be sticking to ideas and headcanons while trying to do my best to find something that makes at least a bit of sense. Alright? Alright.

𓅛 According to War of the Jewels, Eönwë's name was apparently adapted from Valarin (which, given how close the known Valarin names are to their Quenyan counterparts and how Quenya even borrows some names from Valarin, is not surprising). Therefore, my first idea was that perhaps the meaning of Fionwë ("hawk-person", "haste-person") still applies, but whatever the Valarin word it comes from is just slightly different (has an e instead of an i). Someone would then have to come up the Valarin word in question (and it won't be me, at least for now >:D).

𓅛 My second idea was that "fion" and "-wë" are just two elements of the name, with an additional third element conveyed in the "e". There are various things you could "shove" in there, but one idea I'm currently liking is that it's tied to "ea" (existing, being) or "ëala" (being, spirit (non-incarnate), the general term for Ainurin souls). This would correspond with my headcanon that Eönwë was the first Maia to be born/created and the meaning would be "haste/hawk spirit being" (loosely translating).

𓅛 Another alternative I found during my research is "ëa"/"ëaren" (eagle) which could also be cool, though I suppose in that case it'd be better to read "fion" as haste rather than hawk because having two bird species in one name would be a bit weird. The meaning would then be "hasty eagle person" (again, translating somewhat loosely).

𓅛 Funnily enough, I found coming up with an idea what Eönwë's Valarin name could be easier than putting all of the above together. Since we know so little about Valarin, this will once again be guesswork and ideas.

𓅛 Conveniently, we have half of his name thanks to Manwë -> Mānawenūz, if we take it that "-wenūz" is the general Valarin version of "-wë" (and not an isolated instance of this particular name being that way).

𓅛 If we then see how "man-" simply becomes "mana-" and observe the trend of Valarin words having additional syllables with vowels compared to their Quenyan counterparts, such as:

ayanūz -> Ainu iniðil -> indil (lily)

An easy solution would then be Eōnowenūz.

(I have admittedly not yet dared to take all the words above that I suggested could be part of his etymology, attempt to translate them all into Valarin and see if everything would still fit (more or less), but if I'm really bored one day I might.)

So yeah, these are just some ideas and stuff I dug up, please don't take it as absolute fact or gospel and I hope it was interesting or at least entertaining to see me flail around trying to make sense of that poor man's name. Feel free to let this inspire you and make use of my findings, just be a dear and give me a cute little shout out if you do :)

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Aww... this was so sweet ❤️

Day two of @eonweweek :

Friendships | Herald | Valinor

Characters: Eonwe & Mairon

Warnings: none except english is my second language Mairon feeling his work is not perfect enough and Eonwe giving him platonic hugs. It is not love if you're not loving your lovely friends.

It's been few hours, maybe it was the whole day. Mairon again failed another project and because of that Mairon been mumbling a list of reasons why it failed. The project wasn't a total failure, it just Mairon is perfectionist.

"You're being hard on yourself, friend" Eonwe chimes in "I saw no fault with your locket."

Mairon paid no attention to Eonwe, and kept muttering his incompetence as he walked around the workshop.

Eonwe shook his head and bent down to pick up the rest of Mairon's work, gathering it in a handkerchief and putting it in his pocket.

Gently, he placed one hand on Mairon's shoulder and the other tenderly stroked his hair.

Mairon's breath hitches, It's been so long since anyone has shown him affection. He turns in Eonwe's embrace, leaning into his shoulder and breathing his scent, Eonwe smelt like autumn breeze early in the morning.

"hush now my blazing storm" Eonwe's voice thick with emotion "everything will be alright" he started swaying his body while Mairon was trapped inside his embrace.

The simple hug turned to a silly dance with the two maia laughing until their faces turned red and their stomachs started to hurt, with a final twirl they fell on the floor gasping for air.

"Remember that I will always see your work as perfect as the two lamps" Eonwe declared with his right hand on his heart.

Mairon hummed and lifted himself off the ground, offering his hand to Eonwe who accepted it without hesitation.

"how about we go to lord Irmo's dominion?" Mairon suggested while he was patting his clothes removing any dust.

"as long as lord Namo is invited" Eonwe wrapped his arm around Mairon's arm and pulled him outside, the bright light reflecting off their skin making it glisten, they walked towards the gardens laughing at the faces lord Namo will give Melkor every time he sees him.

[eonweweek]

Hello everyone,

we are pleased to announce the coming of Eönwë Week, a fandom event dedicated to our favourite Herald.

The event will run from August 12th to 18th 2024, so save the date!

[morgoth-into-the-void-week]

I'm stealing from @eonweweek (this is a Melkor-themed event, of course we steal things!) their great idea to warm up your creativity before the event by making polls!

(If you're curious, the canon answer varies depending on which version do you read but most are pretty ambiguous. But in one of the late versions he is explicitly said to be executed by Namo.)

[elennalore]

A drabble (100 words), Mairon/Eönwë. Rated: T. Written for @eonweweek Day 4. Prompt: romance.

Mairon had not stopped loving Eönwë. He loved his lithe, muscular body and his bright blue eyes, he loved Eönwë’s arms wrapped around him. Eönwë’s kisses were passionate, his touches tender and Mairon submitted to him willingly. How focused Eönwë always was, how joyful when he opened his winds and glided in the air. His element was air, and Mairon’s was fire, and for a long time Mairon thought that there would not be one without another.

Mairon had not stopped loving Eönwë, but the desire to leap into the unknown became overwhelming. He let go of him and leaped.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 3 @eonweweek

"Unprepared"

Prompt: War

Pairing: Eönwë & Angaquárë (OC)

Themes: NSFT | Angst-ish

Warnings: Very mild sensuality

Word count: 1.4k words

Summary: During the beginning of the War of Wrath, Eönwë calls on Angaquárë to speak to him on the manner in which he fights during battles.

A/n : Bio for Angaquárë, my OC, can be found here.

Minors DNI

“The Lord Commander is without, my lord,” an elven warrior said. He stood by the tent entrance, for etiquette decreed that he stay that way unless invited inside. “Shall I allow him entry?”

“A moment,” Angaquárë replied. He turned to face his companion, and said, “Tis best if you left, my lady. The Lord Commander may not take kindly to another listening to what he has to say.”

“Of course, my lord.” The Maia’s companion threw back their furs and got out of bed. She set herself to the task of getting dressed and trembled when he reached out and caressed the small of her back. “I trust you will want me to call on you later?”

“Indeed, my lady,” Angaquárë told her. “We still have much to discover about each other.”

The elleth flushed from cheek to chest, but she smiled and said, “As you will, my lord.”

Angaquárë watched her depart with a mournful look. The lady was almost as fair as those of his own kindred. Her thick sable hair smelled of lavender oil, and her lips tasted sweet. Then there was her skin—it was soft, like silk. She was eager also, willing to accommodate herself to his every whim and pleasure. It was an aspect Angaquárë intended to make the most of while she continued to agree to him bedding her.

“I will speak with the Lord Eönwë now,” Angaquárë called out, rising. He slipped into a robe he had laid out for himself at the foot of the bed and left his sleeping chamber. And this was how the Lord Commander found him when he entered the tent: garbed in a linen robe, standing by a little table, and pouring cups of fine wine for them both.

“Was your companion to your liking?” Eönwë asked with feigned indifference. In truth, he wanted to satisfy himself with the knowledge that no harm came to his general’s elven companion. Angaquárë was a Maia, after all, and he was known for his many appetites. He could have easily forgotten himself and gone too far.

“Very much so,” Angaquárë replied truthfully. He held out a cup of wine for the herald of the Elder King to take, and then he studied him keenly. “The lady was a most welcome companion, and we each found much pleasure in our coupling. But I suspect you did not come here to speak of the companions I take to my bed. Am I correct on this score?”

Eönwë nodded. The time had come to speak of the true cause of his calling on his fellow warrior.

“Yes," he said, having perceived the other Maia was indeed speaking the truth about his relations with the elf. He moved to sit on a high, lattice stool, and he gestured for Angaquárë to do the same. “I came to speak to you about the manner in which you conducted yourself during our first battle.”

“Ah,” Angaquarë said. He straddled his stool with long legs and sipped his wine. “You believe I go too far?”

“Oh, aye,” Eönwë returned. “You are too thirsty for the spilling of blood, as always. And I have come to ask you to restrain yourself, my lord. These fell servants of Morgoth may yet wish to turn away from the path they set themselves on. Others may wish to return to Valinor, and plead for pardon. We must allow them to do so.”

“These creatures will never turn away from the paths they have chosen for themselves. They will never plead for pardon,” Angaquárë said. He took another sip of wine and savored its taste. “Tis folly to even believe that they would do so.”

Eönwë sighed. The Úmanyar spoke the same during their many meetings with him, as did the emissaries of Men. The Edain who pledged themselves to Morgoth could not be saved, or the orcs and the lesser spirits, or the Maiar themselves. They were lost to all now, consumed by the darkness and malice fed to them by their lord. There would be no joyous return, no turning away from paths shrouded in shadows, and it grieved him immensely. Nevertheless, he held onto the hope that at least a few of them would return, and that his own lord would grant them pardon.

“Such may indeed be the case,” he allowed, albeit reluctantly, “for some of them. But for others, redemption may yet be possible. This is why I urge you to curb your hunger for violence the next time we go to battle. We must give quarter to those who yield.”

Angaquárë studied the Lord Commander again. “When you speak of these others, do you mean the great smith who even now serves his master as his most trusted servant and companion?”

A flash of heat rose up Eönwë’s throat. Angaquárë spoke of Mairon, the Maia who once lived beside him in the Timeless Halls, and who was once a beloved companion of his heart. Still, he composed himself. He would not give a servant of Makar the pleasure of seeing him startled, or distressed.

“I speak of many,” he began, and he drained his cup in one swallow. The wine was quite light and sweet and fragrant, more suited for a delicious meal shared with friends than a darkened tent used by a quarrelsome spirit. “And not just the one you spoke of. Restrain yourself from here on out, my lord. That is a command.”

“I hear your command,” Angaquárë said. He stood and set his cup down on the table. “And I say nay. How I deal with our enemies during battle is not your concern, my lord.”

“How you deal with our enemies is very much my concern, for your conduct reflects poorly on me, and it reflects poorly on the Host of the Valar.” Eönwë set down his cup and stood as well, his vivid cobalt eyes blazing. He seemed to grow tall and fierce and menacing, and the air within the tent crackled and sparked. He did not wish to do this, to remind another of their own place, but he felt like he must. Manwë gave to him his own sword and bid him to lead the Host of the Valar in his stead; he would not be seen as a leader if he bowed his head to one of inferior rank. “And you will heed me on this. Restrain yourself, my lord. Offer quarter to those who ask for it. Are we in agreement on this matter?”

Angaquárë was not afraid of him, having grown accustomed to his own master’s fiery temper. Nevertheless, he yielded. He was in too fine a mood after having spent a most glorious evening with a choice companion, and he desired the Lord Commander to leave. At length, he said, “Very well, my lord. I will do as you command.” He paused, hesitated. “But I, myself, believe no quarter will be asked. Who would ask for such a thing, while Morgoth still lives? If he achieves victory in this war and comes upon all those who gave themselves over to us, they would have to suffer his wrath.”

“You say they will not yield?”

“I say they will not. These fell servants will fight us to the very death if need be, for death would be preferable, no doubt, than having to contend with Morgoth's fury. This war will be a long and bloody one. You best be prepared for it.”

Eönwë shivered. “Let us hope that this bleak outcome you speak of does not come to fruition. My thanks, my lord, for the wine. I will leave you now to your duties and your amusements.”

The other Maia merely grunted and turned away. Eönwë turned sharply on his heel and departed. The night was quite cool, and the stars shone brightly in a blackened sky. And the Lord Commander did not see their beauty; his thoughts lingered on Angaquárë’s words instead.

The servants of Morgoth were numerous. They infested forests and caves, and they dwelled in ruined cities and great holdfasts. Some of them were loyal to their master’s cause, and many of them lived in fear of him. And they, as Angaquárë said, would fight the Host of the Valar to the death, for death would indeed be preferable to failing and suffering their master’s wrath. The battles to come would be violent and filled with much bloodshed and grief, and he, Eönwë, perceived in his heart that he was wholly unprepared for it.

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese