#finarfin

[sweetteaanddragons]

B2MEM - "Hope" (Again)

@spring-into-arda (450)

Elrond had come to Aman to heal. For the most part, people had respected this; he had been left alone in the new valley he had chosen with only his closest family and stubbornest followers surrounding him.

He had not expected the High King to be the first to interrupt that streak.

“Forgive me,” he said, as he poured the tea for the first unexpected guest he’d had since his arrival. “I should have come to present myself to you long before now.”

The king - his several times great uncle? His grandfather-in-law? - accepted the cup but only seemed more uncomfortable for it. He set it on the low wall beside his chair in the courtyard almost immediately. “Nothing of the sort. I have heard how exhausted you were. I should beg your forgiveness for intruding now, especially on a matter of politics.”

Elrond sipped his own tea. “Politics?” he asked politely.

Finarfin sighed. “You may have heard that the Valar have been considering the case of Feanaro for some time now.”

Elrond went still. “I had not.”

“It has been . . . a very long time since the case begun. I suppose it was old news to everyone by the time . . . regardless. They have reached a decision, of sorts. They have decided that since it is primarily the elves that were hurt by his decisions, not themselves, that the matter ought to be decided by the elves.”

“So you have been asked . . . ?”

“They have decided it should be determined democratically.”

Elrond was, distantly, very glad that he was currently a long way from Tirion.

“There are three main strands of thought at the moment,” Finarfin said after a long pause. “Feanaro’s followers, of course, are agitating for his release. Others are arguing that he should remain in the halls of the dead indefinitely.” For a moment, he looked impossibly weary. “I know what you have lost because of him, but I hoped I could convince you to stand publicly for the latter option. It would hold weight with many. If you would allow me to present my case - ”

His first response to this he bit back against his tongue. “Three strands of thought,” he said instead. “What is the third?”

Finarfin swallowed. “That we should take him at his word,” he said quietly, “and consign him to the Darkness.”

For just a moment, even the eternal sunshine of Aman seemed to dim.

“Five minutes of your time,” Finarfin pleaded quietly. “Let me present my argument.”

The weariness that even now had been his constant companion was firmly pushed back. “Allow me to save you the time,” he said. “I stand with the Feanorians on this. How stand the rest of the votes?”

[pujojoi17042]

Feanor: Look! My grandsons are so perfect (holding Celebrimbor & Elrond)

Fingolfin: Actually…Elrond is…Fine…whatever brother likes …

Turgon: ATAR!!! Feanorians KIDNAP MY GREAT-GRANDSON!!!

Finarfin: Elrond is also my grandson-in-law! My granddaughter is the best!

Thingol: THAT’S RIDICULOUS!!! Elrond is ONLY 3/32 Noldor, and 10/32 Sindar!!!!! AND 2/32 FROM MY WIFE HERSELF!!!!! SO HE IS MINE!!!!(ignoring the fact that Elrond is 12/32 human)

[kudriaken]

Finwe`s family.

[braxix]

Finarfin: This is a reminder that sword fighting in the hallways is still a code of conduct violation.

[syrosaur]

[nevermindigotthis]

House of Finarfin (Finrod, Finarfin, Galadriel), inspired by the Harrowing by Chthonion and my musings about fourth age Tirion politics that may occur in part 3

[whorefindel]

being a silmarillion fan is looking at a piece of fanart featuring forty different elves who all have the same shade of either black or gold hair and instantly being able to tell by their vibe who is who and which finwhatever is which

[catsandcatci]

had a revelation

[dalliansss]

And then the week of stalling with revelry and feasting comes to an end, and Arafinwe sits his nephews in the lesser throneroom with him.

Fingon is straightforward. “I have no intention to reclaim my title as High King. My reign is insignificant and short in the bigger picture of things.” Arafinwe almost breathed a sigh of relief, but Fingon is not yet done talking. “However, my waiver does not and will not affect my father’s rights, and how he decides to enforce those rights, once he returns from Mandos.”

Arafinwe hides behind a most gracious smile and a nod. “Of course, Findekano. I too await the time my hanno rejoins us.”

“You may call me Fingon, uncle. I have not been Findekano for a long time. Fingon will suit me just fine.”

“Very well, Fingon.”

There is silence between the three kings. Fingon picks up his goblet of wine and sips his drink. Gil-galad remains seated, his hands clasped together and resting on his middle. Arafinwe, still beaming and smiling, turns to him.

“And, Gil-galad? Yes. I understand you were the last High King of the Noldor on Middle-earth?”

“Yes.”

“Your deeds are famous.”

“Dying by burning from Sauron’s hand is not.”

Awkward quiet. Was Fingon hiding a smile by the rim of his goblet? Gil-galad certainly does not hallucinate the spark of mischief he sees on the older elf’s remaining good eye.

“Do you rule Entulesse in any capacity?” Arafinwe asks now. He does not know how Gil-galad plays his games. Perhaps it is best to go on the offensive. So he does.

“Good gracious, no,” Gil-galad says mildly. “I am but a humble tailor making a living for myself in the city. The people govern themselves by a council that they have elected. The Avari who live there do not want kings or queens, as do the Sindar and Silvan. The Exiles also do not want that headache. So Atar  and Finrod, alongside the other Exiles who established the city with them, came up with a solution that makes everybody happy: a ruling body of fifteen, elected into their post, from which they can also be removed, if the citizens do not feel happy with their governance anymore.”

“You can remove them from their posts?” Arafinwe repeats, surprised.

“Of course. We put them there, we can take them out,” Gil-galad shrugs. “The system of Entulesse’s governance is tailored precisely for its unique circumstances and citizens. It does not aim to encroach on long-standing ways to be found on Taniquetil, Tirion or Alqualonde. Though of course I can only speak for the people who are here. And not for those who are yet to arrive.”

[such tangled webs of our making / AO3]

[thesummerestsolstice]

Notes on the Care and Keeping of the Peredhel, by Maglor Feanorian:

Need to eat three times a day, more if they can be persuaded (they do not seem to have the refined palettes elves do, and do not like my attempts at Valinorean fine dining)

They are very fond of maple syrup

One of the human healers told me they were "growing boys," unsure of the significance of this– a reference to their shapeshifting abilities, perhaps?

It does not appear that they will reach a full elvish height, though that may change

They can hear high tones that elves can, but humans can't

This bodes very well for their education in music theory

They do not appear to have the venom that some humans do, as evidenced by the fact that both Mae and I have been bitten several times with no ill effect

Still, I am thankful that Finrod warned me of this human feature, as it has served me well in many battles

They have not bitten anyone in months, which I appreciate, especially given how sharp their teeth are

Boys said that they could talk to shadows– unsure whether or not they were just attempting to scare me (ask later? Bribe with maple syrup??)

They like having their hair brushed, but do not like any of the scented hair oils we have at the fortress

They refuse to eat bird meat; unsure of why but I won't push

Elros prefers wooden toys, Elrond fabric ones, and neither of them is fond of metal

They grow faster than elves, but are still too young to begin intensive battle training, Maedhros

They are very sensitive to the cold, ensure that they have ample blankets and cloaks, especially in winter

Feel much better after spending time with them– those who spent time around Luthien reported similar effects

They appear to appreciate being pat on the head

Based on information by uncle Arfin (regarding Eonwe), this is common amongst Maiar

I've only had them two years, an incredibly small time in the face of the centuries I've lived, but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this fortress and then myself

[tanoraqui]

I just saw Six live (the ex-wives of Henry VIII musical), and I think I strained my voice from elated cheering, so let the record state: in the late Fourth Age, when they’re all alive (again), finally none of them are the currently elected High King nor have any other pressing duties, and they’ve all sufficiently reconciled to agree to this and sustain it without unbearable rancor, the seven* historical non-elected High Kings of the Noldor go on a musical apology/self-defense tour that is nominally a competition for who had the most epic tragic and/or heroic story—and, of course, death.

*Finwë, Fëanor, Maedhros, Fingolfin, Fingon, Turgon, Gil-Galad, Finarfin. Turgon’s inclusion is essentially, by design, an ongoing test of Fëanor’s temperamental tolerance of being arguably correct (in saying Turgon doesn’t count) but technically incorrect, and moreover outvoted.

[thetiredprometheus]

Part 2: Indis and her sons

Here's the two pieces together:

[istaricelebelasse]

Arafinwë’s Holiday

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64509097

Arafinwë has been High King of the Noldor in Valinor for four Ages. It was peaceful eat first, but since the last ships from Middle Earth and all those released from the Halls of Mandos he has found that he needs a holiday.

Only who to leave the crown to…

[silmalope]

Thinking about the timeline where Maedhros is older than Finarfin always fries my brain, but it would be so cute.

[braxix]

Finarfin: This family is going to drive me to drinking.

Fingolfin: It hasn't already?

[jolidei]

Of Fëanáro & Arafinwë.

Fëanáro : How do I look, Ara?

Little Arafinwë : So beautiful, Naró!

Little Arafinwë : How do I look?

Fëanáro, carrying him on his hip : Perfect!