#feanor did nothing wrong

[silmarillion-ways-to-die]

[molteasee]

Silmarillion Noldor Kings summed up pretty accurately 😂

Fëanor

Maehdros

Fingon (imo the last of the great kings)

Fingolfin

Maglor

Finwë

Turgon

Gil-Galad

Elrond

[artanis-draws]

Soo here is some older piece I did with Photoshop and a Wacom Bamboo tablet! Feanor is one of my favourite characters from Tolkien-Universe. His name fits so well with his kinda fiery temper and I imagined him surrounded by -of course- fire. I think I am really into wild personalities. Thought of him fighting the second major battle of the War of the Jewels in Beleriand, the Dagor-nuin-Giliath (or the Battle Under the Stars).

->The pose was a reference from Pinterest! Thanks to the artist, but sadly he wasn't mentioned and I can't find the artwork anymore.

[hongchenzhu]

[i-am-darth-feanor]

Guys omg I have two friends who are LotR nerds and one of them is mostly a movie nerd but he's getting through the books for the first time (he's currently on return of the king) and I convinced him to read the silmarillion oh my gosh

I'm gonna brainwash him into believing that Feanor did nothign wrong

[silmarillion-ways-to-die]

Fëanorian Tumblr enters the chat.

kill 'character did nothing wrong'. nurture 'character did everything wrong and i was whooping and cheering the whole time'

[raointean]

Silmarillion Survey Essay!

My essay was due last night (submitted it with 6 minutes to spare!) and my professor said I could post it to Tumblr if I wanted to. It's divided into four sections, all marked. The first section is the introduction where I explain the point of the survey, who I studied, and why. The second section is the methods I used to design the survey, get answers, record answers, and control for variables. The third section is results, where I highlight several of the questions I thought would be most stratifying and explain what I actually found (it has graphs!). The fourth section is the discussion where I talk about what I found and what conclusions I drew from that.

I'd love to hear all of your thoughts on the results and my conclusions!

Introduction

            For this project, I looked into age (and length of time in fandom, in one case) affected knowledge and attitudes about fandom language. I investigated several terms and phrases, both from fandom at large and from the Silmarillion fandom specifically. The group I studied was the fandom of The Silmarillion on Tumblr because I am intimately familiar with that internet space (and could therefore phrase the questions in a way that would be understood) and because the majority of Archiveofourown.org (a popular fanfiction website) users are also Tumblr users.

            For the purposes of this paper, I am defining the Silmarillion fandom as a community of practice. The Wenger-Trayner article, “Communities of practice a brief introduction”, defines a community of practice as an entity with three parts: domain, community, and practice. The domain is “an identity defined by a shared domain of interest” (Wenger-Trayner 2). The domain in this case is The Silmarillion. As The Silmarillion is a history book set in a fictional universe, it is incredibly dry at times (there is an entire chapter titled “Of Beleriand and its Realms” which deals mostly with geography) so anyone who reads it by choice is necessarily interested in the work. The second part, community, is made up of “members [that] engage in joint activities and discussions, help each other, and share information” (Wenger-Trayner 2). Most fandoms engage in discourse/discussion, create transformative art (mostly written or visual, but I have seen musical as well) and exchange craft advice to better each other’s creative work, but due to the almost academic nature of the Silmarillion fandom, we exchange background lore knowledge, additions to Tolkien’s conlangs, translations, timelines, and character sheets in addition to the regular fandom activities. Finally, the Silmarillion fandom also has a shared practice, defined as “They develop a shared repertoire of resources: experiences, stories, tools, ways of addressing recurring problems—in short a shared practice” (Wenger-Trayner 2). As mentioned above, the Silmarillion fandom has shared resources (such as tolkiengateway.net, Nerd of the Rings on YouTube, as well as several established “fandom elders” who are happy to answer questions), stories, established characterizations for “only-mentioned-once-in-a-footnote” type characters, settled linguistic debates, and several research-oriented blogs (such as two of my own) that record niche or new knowledge about either Tolkien’s work or the fandom itself. Almost all of the above (with the possible exception of the website and the youtuber previously mentioned) is unpaid hobby work.

            When doing this survey, I expected to find a rather steep difference between older and younger members of fandom regarding their knowledge of fandom terminology. I expected the 18-25 age group to be the most knowledgeable of fandom terms with the under 18 group to be only slightly behind them and the 26-30 group a slightly further way behind the under 18 group. For the groups over 30, I anticipated that the rate of knowledge would sharply decline and that older fans would be unfamiliar with fandom terminology for the most part. I was… incorrect.

Methods

            There are eight questions highlighted in this paper. The first chart (Figure 1.) is the total percentage of answers that amounted to “I don’t know”, filtered by age. The first table (Figure 2.) looks at the people who did not know the term “Isekai” based on whether or not they were native speakers of English or live in Asia (given that “Isekai” is a Japanese word). The second table (Figure 3.) compares the percentage of people who mentioned that the word “angst” is also present in everyday German, categorized by German speakers and non-German speakers. The third table (Figure 4.) examines attitudes towards the anti/pro-ship terms based on age. The second chart (Figure 5.) examines attitudes towards the term “omegaverse” separated by age. The fourth table (Figure 6.) compares groups of people who could define the difference between “peredhel” and “peredhil”, separated by how long they have participated in the fandom surrounding the Silmarillion fandom. The third chart (Figure 7a.) looks at people who understand the phrase “Fëanor did nothing wrong” as a joke, filtered by age. Finally, the fourth chart (Figure 7b.) shows the percentage of people who used the phrase “tongue-in-cheek” in the 31-40 group as opposed to other age groups (that one was not explicitly asked for in the survey; I simply noticed a steep trend while dissecting the results from the “Fëanor did nothing wrong” question).

            I compiled all of these questions (along with several others) in a google form as a three-part survey. The first part was comprised of basic demographic questions, the second of general fandom terms and phrases, and the third of terms and phrases specific to fanfiction of The Silmarillion. The 418 responses were recorded and examined in Google sheets, which I used to filter the demographic information for ease of synthetization.

            The group I examined was people who participate in the Silmarillion fandom on Tumblr. I chose this group because I am familiar with them, because they are the most likely to be aware of these terms (due to the large overlap between Tumblr and Archive Of Our Own), and because fandom language is (to the best of my knowledge) not well studied. I was able to isolate this group by only posting the survey to Tumblr itself. Tumblr posts are only viewable to Tumblr users, so even if someone were to post a link to the post elsewhere, the only people able to access the survey would be Tumblr users. I further attempted to control by including several fandom related and The Silmarillion-specific questions in the demographic portion of the survey. Anyone who completed the demographic portion would have been well aware of the nature of the survey by the end, regardless of how poorly they understood the original survey posting. These measures, of course, did not stop everyone. I had a few respondents who submitted only the demographic portion or the demographic and general fandom portions. Luckily, due to the Google Sheets functions, such responses were relatively easy to filter out.

Results

(Figure 1. A chart observing, out of all 16,065 answers, how many equate to “I don’t know?” Under 18: 14.24%, 18-25: 5.9%, 26-30: 7.43%, 31-40: 9.17%, 41-50: 13.63%, 51-60: 7.3%, 61-70: 9.7%)

(Figure 2. A table comparing different categories of people and what percentage of them are unfamiliar with the term “Isekai”; a Japanese term which is most commonly defined as “a trope in which a character somehow travels from the mundane ‘real’ universe into a fictional one.” 23.08% of native English speakers are unfamiliar with the term. 27.07% of non-native English speakers are unfamiliar with the term. 20% of respondents who live in Asia are unfamiliar with the term.)

(Figure 3. A table comparing different categories who mention that “Angst” (defined in fandom context as “dramatic, serious, and sometimes dark”) is an everyday word in German. 12.73% of German speakers mentioned it. 1.38% of people who either do not speak German, or did not mention it in their language background, mentioned it.)

(Figure 4. A table comparing the attitudes of different age groups to the terms “anti-ship” and “pro-ship”. These terms are hotly debated in fandom. Those on the anti side of the debate define anti-ship as “being morally against abuse and pedophilia,” and pro-ship as “excusing abuse and pedophilia in fandom.” Those on the pro side of the debate define anti-ship as “puritanical and chronically online people who can’t separate reality and fiction” and pro-ship as “letting people ship whatever they want and separating reality from fiction.” Those under 18 are 4% anti, 4% pro, and 92% neutral. Those from 18-25 are 2.44% anti, 29.27% pro, and 68.29% neutral. Those from 26-30 are 0% anti, 33.67% pro, and 66.33% neutral. Those from 31-40 are 2.2% anti, 26.37% pro, and 71.43% neutral. Those from 41-50 are 0% anti, 46.15% pro, and 53.85% neutral. Those from 51-60 are 12.5% anti, 37.5% anti, and 50% neutral. Those from 61-70 are 0% anti, 50% pro, and 50% neutral (although, admittedly, there are only two respondents in that group.))

(Figure 5. A chart that shows the rate at which respondents cringed (using phrases such as “please don’t make me define this,” “oh god,” and “Nuh uh. Sorry man. Sweet baby rays good lord.”*) within their responses while defining “Omegaverse” (an erotica subgenre within fandom based on outdated wolfpack dynamics. Very popular, but also very taboo). Under 18: 16%, 18-25: 6.71% 26-30: 7.07%, 31-40: 6.45%, 41-50: 12%, 51-60: 12.5%)

*All real responses I received

(Figure 6: A chart exploring the differences between who can correctly identify the difference between the terms “peredhel” (half-elf, singular) and “peredhil” (half-elves, plural) based on how long they have been in the fandom. Those who have been in the fandom for less than a year are 31.71% correct and 14.63% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 1-2 years are 71.67% correct and 10% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 3-4 years are 74.44% correct and 7.78% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 5-9 years are 65.93% correct and 9.89% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 10-14 years are 73.85% correct and 12.31% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 15-19 years are 76.92% correct and 11.59% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 20-24 years are 69.57% correct and 13.04% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 25-29 years are 100% correct and 0% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 30-34 years are 75% correct and 0% incorrect. Those who have been in the fandom for 35-39 years are 100% correct and 0% incorrect.)

(Figure 7a. A chart observing who sees the phrase “Fëanor did nothing wrong as ironic” divided by age. Under 18: 23.53%, 18-25: 35.77%, 26-30: 36.9%, 31-40: 42.67%, 41-50: 22.22%, 51-60: 37.5%)

(Figure 7b. A chart observing the percentages of age groups who used the phrase “tongue-in-cheek” while answering the above question. 18-25: 1.84%, 26-30: 2.04%, 31-40: 9.78)

Discussion

            Observing these results, I can see that, while there is some level of stratification by age and length of time spent in the fandom, it is not nearly as dramatic as I had expected it to be. These results strongly demonstrate the power of communities of practice. These people, across ages and continents, communicate so often and so deeply, that nearly all terms are understood to the same degree by everyone, and nearly everyone has similar stances on divisive pan-fandom debates.

            Were I to do this study again, or a similar study in the future, I would probably narrow the purview by a lot. I would ask fewer questions (or at least, only ask questions of a single type), compare them against only one demographic question, and sincerely consider making them multiple choice. That being said, I do not regret this survey having short answer questions. There were several definitions of several terms that I never could have come up with in a million years. Synthesizing the short answers may have taken more effort on my part, but I learned a lot about my fandom.

@proship-anti-discussion (ship debate was mentioned)

[silmarillion-ways-to-die]

[feanors-mom]

666 notes for ye old Feanaro, who would have guessed

Fëanor, Lord of the Lights

[hongchenzhu]

[braxix]

I love a Elrond kidnaps Maglor to take him to Valinor, or a Galadriel tracks him down and manhandles him onto a ship, but I want a Celeborn sees the pain of his family and dispite his own dislike and pain he tracks Maglor down and forces him to come home. I want a angsty hurt/comfort where Maglor thinks Celeborn is here to kill him, but Celeborn just hands him some bread and tends to his wounds. I want Celeborn deciding that the only way to stop the cycle of hurt is to forgive and to be the one to show kindness. I want the war in Celeborn's mind over the morals of doing this. I want the slips where Celeborn accidentally hurts him without realizing. I want enemies to friends. I want Celeborn to decide that, in the least, kidnapping Maglor can't be that bad. It's for the elf's own good and he talks himself into it by saying that it's a revenge kidnapping.

I want Galadriel to be so worried about where her husband disappeared to that when he comes home with a kinslayer trailing after him she's so surprised she doesn't even put on a mask of indifference and tries to keep Maglor out. She's more worried about what her husband is doing to Maglor than what Maglor could possibly do to Celeborn. Celeborn is the one to talk her into letting Maglor in, forcing her to let him stay.

I want Elrond's surprise/hurt/worry when he finally sees Maglor. I want him refusing to look at Maglor because he thinks Maglor doesn't love him because he stayed away. He thinks Maglor went to Galadriel before him on purpose and that because he wasn't told that Maglor wants nothing to do with him. I want miscommunication. I want Maglor thinking Elrond hates him. I want Celeborn to be so confused by what's going on between Elrond and Maglor because didn't Elrond say he wished Maglor would come home? Didn't Elrond say he misses the son of Feanor? Didn't Maglor talk non-stop the entire way home about how he doesn't want to be a bother to perfect wonderful Elrond? I want the realization. I want the tired of this bullshit sigh from Celeborn before he locks them in a room together so that they'll realize that they both miss each other dearly and want to be father and son. I want their painful realization of how deeply miscommunicated everything was. I want their fight. Their stories. I want them all to be a crazy family.

I want it to be because of Celeborn deciding to forgive, but not forget. I want it to be Celeborn who does this because he's the one who remembers all of the wrongs Maglor did, he has no reason to forgive, but he does. Celeborn stops the hurt. Celeborn's the one to bring him home, not Galadriel or Elrond or anyone related to Maglor. It's Celeborn.

[papita474]

YES YES YES

i'm sorry but you will never convince me that feanor was a bad or unloving father and that he just hated on all his sons except curufin. they obviously loved him so much the way they were just unfailingly loyal to him and immediately jumped up to swear the oath with him? like they abandoned everyone else for him

bad brother? sure but not a bad father

[raointean]

Funniest responses* to the "What does "Blorbo" mean?" question

(In reference to my silmarillion fandom linguistics project, the results of which you can find in my "survey says" tag)

*not necessarily the full response, some are just fragments from longer responses. Also, I'm not filtering by "correct" or "incorrect" responses

Special Little Guy (gender neutral)

Lmao. That's like, my special little guy. He takes up my brain space. I'm rotating him.

you know how lilo from lilo and stitch has that doll she made, complete with backstory? basically like that

one's blorbo is a character one cares a lot about. it kind of has like... condescending or woobifying connotations? like expressing that Maedhros is your blorbo is sort of uh... one imagines like, a chibi Maedhros. cute, not scary. but it doesn't necessarily imply the speaker has distorted perception of the character in general, just a sort of fondness

The character a person wants to use as a doll/stuffed animal

A character who the author loves too much (and knows it)

"OMG Blorbo was in the new trailer for 5 seconds!" is a common statement

which often provokes... strange thoughts at 11pm.

Beloved character who you think about entirely too much and also enjoy putting in Situations

It implies some degress of being pathetic as well.

No relation to Blorbo Baggins.

The character you put under a microscope, put through the cheese grater, put into the salad spinner, and squeeze like a plushie.

A beloved character whom you want to both stick in a microwave and protect with all you have

character one fangirls* over (*gender neutral)

Just a little guy, whom I am deeply enamored of and just want to squish on the head and see what happens.

Favourive character, often pathetic, someone to pity as much as love

obsessed. baby. Will run my mouth off about them

the word "favorite" wasn't enough to encapsulate "the exact kind of character made specifically for me in the lab" either. my friendgroup started calling those types of characters "callouts" because they were calling you out by existing Exactly To Your Tastes

(not necessarily in a way that condones their actions, but deeply beloved nonetheless)

The "cinnamon roll" kind. Idk I love Namo but I'd never call him a blorbo, it just wouldn't feel right.

??

dear?

My personal favourite character, whom I want to adopt even if he's a dark lord

A particularly beloved (or beloathed-in-a-positive-way) character.

Generally seem to be problematic favs.

I think it was originally meant to be somewhat mocking, but it was wholeheartedly adopted and is now used unironically.

A favored character that usually is subjected to great amounts of trauma and or fluff.

A favourite character, usually male

The obsession character

Feanor/character you are unreasonably attached to esp. if they are a Bad Person TM

The character who is most special and beloved to you (and often that means you're gonna put them through The Horrors)

a character that makes you chew on the bars of your enclosure

Special little character from my shows(tm)

usually having an aura of kicked wet puppy (brimby)

You'd build a shrine to them

Idk, ask the children 😹. Er. Hot character you like? I'm sure people have very complex definitions explaining why they like the hot character but I don't take fandom that seriously.

Your guy (gender neutral), not a comfort character, but perhaps a character you would like to see experience the worst situations possible (affectionate)

occasionally blorbo from my floor (my cat)

Just a widdle pathetic guy 🥺😈

A favourite character, thuogh usually one you squash like a stress ball or squeaky toy rather than put gently on a shelf

Ungoliant

Guy (gender neutral) who I hold in my hand like a neat rock and look at

character whom i will put in a glass and shake

character you are putting in the metaphorical salad spinner

A favourite character, often a war criminal treated like they did nothing wrong, they are a little kitty

(character you're particularly attached to and usually put in physically and/or mentally torturous situations for fun)

A character you’ve imprinted on and like seeing in misery. They’re your wet cat you enjoy pouring water on but also toweling off

Your favorite character, to whom no harm may come (except in the service of angst)

my guy. my friend my buddy. the person

Literally your favourite ever character, but not like you want to f*ck them, more like "how much can i let them suffer?"

Your favouritest character from media that you like to put in all kinds of situations, but is not morally problematic.

favourite character you want to bully

a fictional character that you like to an obsessive amount, typically more than other favourite characters; your specialist little guy; someone you are unwell about; you don’t always have to like your blorbo per day but they must take up constant thought space

[amethysttribble]

If You Hold a Silmaril-

Things might get a little weird.

On the night which Thingol first held the Silmaril, he dreamed of Finwe.

He saw his friend standing beneath Laurelin and Telperion, laughing in wonder. 'Elwe!' he called, 'Elwe, isn't it beautiful?'

Thingol didn't get the chance to reply, because the seasons of Valinor which he had never seen passed them by swiftly, and the light of the Trees which had so touched him changed and Finwe changed, too. His features softened, his stature lessened, the gleam in his eyes grew brighter.

In a soft voice, he asked, "Isn't it beautiful?" Laurelin and Telperion winter-dead behind him and a Silmaril cupped in his palms, presenting.

"Yes," Thingol agreed with a smile.

---

Beren never held the Silmaril for long; at least, not outside the wolf's stomach. He took the stone in hand once, twice, thrice, always just trying to convey it to its next location, it's new owner. He was fine with this.

He would never forget how his own hand had look in Carcharoth's stomach- first perfectly preserved, and then naught but dust once disturbed. Felagund had once recounted the Sons of Feanor's oath to him, and the line about 'mortal hands' had stuck out.

Beren did not trust the thing. He did not trust the lullaby that had teased his ears since he first pried the burning thing from the crown of darkness. Never could he hear the words clearly, but when he tried to provide reason to that sweet, haunting melody, he ascribed that Oath of Feanor. He was pretty sure he was wrong, though.

He was especially sure he was wrong about the lullaby when he draped the Nauglamir over his fingers and pondered what to do with it.

___

Earendil sang with the Silmaril. Old songs and new songs, Quenya songs and Sindarin songs; Elvish songs, Mannish songs, and songs from before either of their times. There was little else to do while sailing on the rim of the world.

They'd become friends, the two of them.

___

Melkor held three Silmarils, for a time. Even at his poorest, he possessed two. That voice and light was hewn into his very being. So much so that his eyes and ears- which were constructions, falsehoods, empty veneers- tricked him.

He grew used to the shadows haunting every corner of his eyes. The whispers which came from every direction.

For him, there was no singing, no memories.

There were taunts, jeers, and laughter, because he and dear Feanaro were cut from the same cloth, and there was nothing spirits like them hated more than being mocked. Melkor knew this well, had used this well, and so he did not react. Did not provide the satisfaction to Feanaro.

Because he had been the one to bring Feanaro low, he was the one who won.

So even when his feet were cut from under him, and that little fey thing that only he could see looked down at him, smirk split over his unreal face, triumph in those eyes, Melkor didn't care.

He didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't CARE-

Feanor laughed and all of Morgoth's screams couldn't drown it out.

---

The first time Luthien held the Silmaril was when her husband, brow knit in worry, handed her the Nauglamir.

"Interesting," she said.

"I think there is some fairy within it," Beren said, quoting the legends of his youth. "When your father and the Dwarves of Nogrod were moved to madness, I thought it a demon, but after holding it myself for a time... Perhaps not. Perhaps it has ensorcelled me as well."

"So not evil?" she asked, though already well-sure of her assumptions. No, not evil, just-

"Not good either," Beren grumbled, crossing his arms. "But, no. That's why I now think it to be a fairy."

"I agree," Luthien said, bringing the pretty thing up meet her eyes. She had never understood the allure while hearing tales or while retrieving this creation, but holding him, feeling him, she felt she might understand.

He was very warm, and very bright, and the scope of him was so very wide and colorful and varied. And this was just one Silmaril? Luthien was starting to understand how love for such a father could turn a son to such evil. This could also inspire greatness.

"Not evil, not good, just very strong in who he is. Quite the fairy, indeed. I think, if minded correctly, a great blessing."

___

Silmaril in hand, Maedhros heard only one thing: a call of recognition, wreathed in infinite sorrow and regret.

My son!

He wanted to hear no more.

___

Carcharoth burned. He cried. He wanted this to end.

There was something within that hated him. Furious and heated. It tasted like the sky at first, like the slight sting of stars except worse, and then it grew worse still.

At once, the fire within was both hot and cold, tasting of his master's Ainur fury and the slaps of the Orcs which fed him as a pup. Both his spirit and his flesh burned. It hurt so badly.

He wanted it to stop, why wouldn't it stop, wouldn't master return and make it stop?

What was this crystallized flame he'd swallowed, where had it come from, why would anyone make such a thing? Carcharoth could not understand, would never understand, especially when it cried, Foul imitation.

His bane rejoiced when the puny wolfhound appeared again, and Carcharoth's last joy was killing that holy lapdog. Then the pain flared even brighter, all heat and fury and hatred, and he faltered. He, the Red Maw. He howled in pain around the Man in his mouth, and his Elven prey struck.

He was almost grateful to the Elves.

___

Varda, completely taken with her own designs and creations, happily humming to herself, actually didn't notice anything of note.

___

Dior grew up on stories of the Silmaril.

Hearing of wicked Feanorions and the massive wolf and the Great Enemy's palace. The eagles and horseback duels and the hand. On rare occasions, his grandfather had showed the treasure to him, but it wasn't often and never for very long.

So, suffice to say, when he and his father recovered the Nauglamir bound Silmaril, he was awe-struck.

For the last year of her life, his mother wore that necklace, and he often told her that she was beautiful, and looked healthier in that light, and she seemed to keep laughing at private jokes. She'd wink at him. Luthien was very lively in that last year, especially for an old Woman, but it did not stop her from lying in bed with Beren as he died, and slipping away in the same heartbeat.

The Silmaril lay forgotten in a drawer when they went.

Dior retrieved it as he packed up their house, their life, and prepared to make for Doriath. This was the first time he'd ever held it, because his father was wary of the thing, his grandfather possessive of the thing, and his mother a funny kind of person. As he trailed his fingers over the warm, glowing gem, he did not think it deserved all the fuss.

His mother once said there was a fairy within that gave advice that was not strictly good or bad, just mad, mad, mad. And grand. As Dior entered beautiful, wild, Elvish Doriath, he felt he could use a little madness and grandness both.

He put it on.

And there was the lullaby his father spoke of, and there was the tricksy warmth his mother traded japes with, and there was the strength of will that always kept his revered grandfather's countenance so tall and straight. Dior smiled, and asked Nimloth how he looked, breathing a little bit easier. Feeling a little more confident.

Dior felt like a real Elf-king when he wore the Silmaril.

___

Mablung held the Silmaril for the briefest of moments, and still felt the world shift.

Or maybe the world did not shift. Maybe he shifted. Moved slightly to the left on the plane of Arda. Drawn slightly closer to his spirit, the world's; spirit of an Ainu.

Because after that brief moment of possession, the colors of the world were brighter. The sounds sharper. The smells richer. The tastes deeper. Was this how it was in Valinor, he wondered.

Or was this something unique. Was it the appeal of the Silmarils? Why they were so coveted?

He still did not understand why they were worth the death and blood and suffering of so many. So the world was greater and vaster and there was now a taste in his mouth that urged him to seek that world and understand it and bend it.

No, he would not do that. He was loyal to his king and home. And he would fight for the Silmaril if heeded, but it was with great reluctance. The Silmaril had touched him and he did not like it.

Mablung supposed some would feel blessed, but he just felt tainted. Violated. Who would want such a thing?

___

Hanar was a craftsman of Nogrod, a disciple of Gamil Zirak. Not as renowned as Telchar was he, but still respected, still well-known, still good enough to receive the invitation to King Thingol's court. He was given a special job.

Though his heart pounded with envy at seeing all his people had wrought occupied and hoarded by Elves, especially the Nauglamir- which bore that foul name for his people though they made that beautiful thing- he was a reasonable person. An honorable dwarflord. He accepted the terms of the deal and got to work. He accepted the Silmaril.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This was delicate work, his hammer remained stored away, but his pounding heart filled the void. He evaluated the shape of the Silmaril, turned it over in his hands and contemplated how to hold such beautifully wrought facets without defacing it.

Hanar felt that the gem in his hands understood his task. His care in fulfilling it. As he unwound the Nauglamir and nestled the Silmaril within, it offered advice, as if from one craftsman to another.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Into the silver and steel, the twinkling gems and the burning Silmaril, he poured himself. He slaved over this project for many weeks, scarcely sleeping, eating. The Silmaril rejoiced with him, crying, So long its been since I helped make something! So much I have missed it! Thank you, thank you!

Together, they worked.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

When complete, Hanar held their new creation and wept. Such a masterpiece he created in the merging of two previous masterpieces. It surpassed the work of Telchar. Why, it might even have surpassed his master.

And his masterpiece, it had helped him bring itself to fruition. It thanked him for giving it life. They were friends now.

How could anyone ask Hanar to give this up to unappreciative hands? How?

No smith of any artistry could.

___

When Finwe first beheld the Silmarils, cupping each reverently in his hands one-by-one, he knew what he had been gifted immediately.

He kissed his beloved son and smiled sadly as he said, "Are you still so scared of your mother's fate?"

Feanaro denied it, but Finwe knew the truth.

___

If Mairon could grind the Silmarils down into dust, he would.

His beloved master returned home with them in hand, burning in hand, burning down to the soul so that the wound could not be wiped away. They were beautiful and powerful. At the time, the prospect excited Mairon. His master tasked him with forging a crown for his prizes, and he'd grinned in excitement.

What creations, what strange creations, smithed by an Elf? Mairon could not wait to break them down and build them back better and recieve praise for his genius.

Except... Except.

Except, that proved... difficult. Difficult, at first, it was just +difficult. Why couldn't he cut into them? Alter them with temperature? Remove that pesky burning? Why could Mairon not peer inside and break down the molecular structure and understand?

He didn't understand. What was he working with? He couldn't understand!

His master issued a warning when he took too long to make the crown, and Mairon was forced to retreat.

It wasn't a defeat. It wasn't impossible for him to alter, to better the Silmarils, it wasn't. He would recreate them.

Then master would see that he was the better smith than this Elf. Maybe the first try didn't work. Maybe the second didn't either. And the third, fourth, fifth-

Mairon screamed and raged and razed his smithy to the ground, taking a dozen servants with it.

He tried again. Not light, but darkness. Something more fitting for his master's reign! And then he'd give up on the Silmarils. He only had two now, why did he even still care?

He would keep trying and trying and trying and trying-

Mairon would dissect Curufinwe Tyelperinquar as many times as it took, physically, mentally, alive or dead, as many times as it took to understand.

___

Elwing really knew nothing of the Silmaril but what she learned herself.

There was no one to tell her what the Silmaril had whispered to them, shown them. Many hands it had gone through, and not one was around to impart any wisdom. She wasn't frightened of this gift, though.

On her twentieth birthday, her people draped the Nauglamir, Silmaril front and center- around her neck and named her queen. Elwing took on the Silmaril and was struck with familiarity.

It sung her a song that she recognized. It was the one that soothed her as she was spirited away from Menegroth, silver and diamond necklace weighing down her little body, family dead. A song that told her not to cry, to not be scared. Oh, how the Silmaril hated the sound of crying children.

She started to wear the Nauglamir often, more the sign of her queenship than any crown. It gave her people hope. It made her feel stronger. More... connected to something.

That night and many thereafter, she dreamed of shores she'd never been to, and started to recognize traits of Idril's as belonging to people she'd never met, and learned which songs Finwe would use to sing his children to sleep. Strange treasure, curious relic. It had life and memories of its own, and it communicated feelings.

The Silmaril was fond of her. Sometimes, in snatches, it told her of what it'd seen of her own family. That made Elwing happy. Their connection made her own soul brighter.

She told Earendil of all this and only him. At least, only her husband until-

Elwing sneered in the face of Maedhros, and said, "Why do you even want it? He would hate you as you are."

___

"You are not my father," Maglor said, holding the Silmaril before his face, collapsed upon the shore, defeated. His hand was still burning, though his flesh was long since ruined. At once, he wanted nothing more than to hold on and let go.

"You are a shadow. A remnant. An echo. But a piece of him, capable of communicating memories and the basest of feelings and impulses, but no higher thought. My father, distilled. But not him.

"Which is a shame, I- I never believed Curufin's theory about my father's spirit only being recoverable with the Silmarils, but I'm disappointed now that it is not him speaking to me. I have so much to say, but I find myself mourning only one lost opportunity thing: it would have been nice to debate poetry movements with him again.

"You're not my father. You're a will-o-wisp, a taunt. A false light, guiding us to our doom. Our fault. Our stupidity. Our end."

He ambled to his feet.

"Yet, I feel your love for me, and I'm glad. I feel your horror, and I'm ashamed. To sadness, I respond with anger, and to regret- Do you feel regret? Are you capable, strange little reflection? Am I seeing what I want to see or disregarding what I cannot stand? I don't know. I don't know. I wish I didn't know. To have died in pursuit and not know would be preferable."

Fury gripped Maglor's heart and hot tears came to his eyes. He pulled his arm back.

"You are not worth what has been done in your name!"

He screamed, and the Silmaril was gone. All was silent. Then, Maglor started to weep. He had not realized until this moment how much he had forgotten about who his father was, beyond the last words he said.

How much the world had forgotten about Feanor, beyond the scope of a Silmaril.

___

If you hold a Silmaril, you're going to get to know Feanor. When you get to know him, you're soul will brush up against his. When you possess his soul and he stains yours, you might just start to understand him.

[meneliltare]

My boy be just as petty as me and I live for it...but he's also right.

Fëanor: Oh, so when crows remember people who’ve wronged them and hold grudges, it’s ‘intelligent’ and ‘really cool’

Fëanor: But when I do it, I’m ‘petty’ and ‘need to let it go’